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cripplecharacters · 12 hours

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Hello! Want to double check that I've done a decent job of avoiding disfiguremisia, and try to turn it into great counter to hatred instead of just an okay one.

Preface: I have a form of memory loss and likely brain damage so I cannot always phrase things clearly although I will try my best.

Personally I do not feel happy reading escapist stories as that happy ending is not achievable for real people. We don't get to live in a place that's completely safe and free from judgement. I'd like to write people in a hostile world who find love and safety and community, however this does necessite writing hostility. I want to make sure I'm doing so with care.

I would like to make sure that the hostility written as tension does not tar how I write how one of the main characters. He should be written with dignity and respect even when he is not being treated well by those around him.

One of my characters is blind and develops severe burn scars. He wears a blindfold to help with photophobia and sensory overwhelm, but takes it off when its dim. (CVI plus autism.)

While he does wear a cloth coverings in public due to ugly laws, he views it as a ridiculous requirement and happily removes this mask when with friends. He also enjoys that being visibly strange or somewhat unnerving to most people means that shallow people who judge by appearances avoid him.

Question: what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia? I have him being content with his face as it tells a story of his life and he's a blunt, forward person, not covering his face for most of the story despite laws necessitating that he do so, and a few other things too (and many side characters with facial differences and deformities also).

Also none of the central plotlines centre around facial difference. He's joining a servant rebellion, befriending a bitter exile intent on status at all costs, and discovering the truth of history. (Also a mind controlling octopus being is involved and a semi sentient moon amalgam thing but don't worry about it everything's fine.)

I think later books will be a more effective counter due to lack of ugly laws and him finding a lovely interest. I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world. I want his happy ending to feel real.

I respect the hell out of escapist fantasies it's just that they do nothing for me personally. I really want to write someone dealing with a lot - more than I ever have - and coming out the other end happy. Yes this world is hostile and will judge me but I can find joy despite it all. Some say the world is universally cruel but I have not found this to be the case. It is wise to be wary but myself and friends can create small sections of time and space where no precautions are necessary. Am I not part of the world? Are not they? The world is not universally cruel as long as I and those I treasure live in and we are not extraordinary, simply uncommon, and what is uncommon is still a great bounty. (Something to that effect.)

I'm set on what I want to write but the specifics I'm more than happy to change in order to bring joy. Do you have ideas on how I can do this full idea full justice?

Hello,

before getting to your actual ask, I have a "few" questions about the premise of the story itself.

You mention that you don't like escapist fantasies - that's fair. Taste differs; you can write whatever and that's great. But I do find the insistence to write a story about a specific type of discrimination as an outsider rather strange. If you want to have facial difference representation, I assume you want to have readers with facial differences, correct? I mean, I don't think that many able-bodied people would be too interested in it specifically considering most don't know what it is. So okay, this is supposed to be a story of characters with facial differences overcoming centuries worth of hatred and all that. Arguably more, considering that disfiguremisia and ableism go all the way back to Biblical times.

Why are you the person who needs to tell this story?

Just as people with facial differences are readers, we can be authors as well. We tell our stories. I will take an #OwnVoices book over a one that isn't that any day, and this fact will influence the rest of this answer. I'm a firm believer in #NothingAboutUsWithoutUs and all when it comes to this stuff.

Have you talked to people with facial differences who would be interested in the kind of story you want to tell? Do you know what they want to see from an author that's not taking it from their own experience? I don't count here, because as I made clear before, I'm not and won't be interested in it. I also don't know anyone in the community who has ever said "I wish more people without our experiences wrote about how hard it is to be us!". You need to make sure there are people who want this.

So, have, or will you, reach out to those that could like it? Sensitivity readers, random people online who like to read about disfiguremisia in their free time, advocates who work on media-centric problems? Anyone who would enjoy it is automatically a better candidate to help than me. I'm too jaded, I suppose.

If you want to talk about people with facial differences in such detail and setting, you need to get to know us. One guy with a specific set of opinions from a blog on Tumblr isn't that (thank god), but I guess I can serve as a reminder that not everyone will be excited to read a book that represents them in some way. We still have preferences.

To write it, you need to involve yourself in the community, start actually spreading activism about our issues. Preach about Face Equality and celebrate when our once-a-year week happens in May. See what disfiguremisia causes. Share our efforts to get all the problematic garbage off the big screen. Read our stories. Understand us as people who are incredibly diverse, and that not all of us like to be described as strange or unnerving.

If you only want to talk about our suffering as some quota to fill on a "types of discrimination" list, it will always be flat and inauthentic, and if you don't put in the effort it's pointless. We don't want tragedy porn, and we don't need to be included in every story about struggles that just wants some brand-new type of bigotry in it. We want authors who care about us, the living and breathing people. And sometimes it might mean respecting our opinions on writing disfiguremisia.

Here is a great post by @writingwithcolor explaining the effects of tragedy exploitation. Not everything there applies, but I would consider it a very valuable read.

If you think about all this, and decide that you are ready to write such a heavy, community-based story, go ahead to...

Actual Answers! Hooray

what other things might I be able to employ to counter disfiguremisia?

Sympathize with him. Disfiguremisia is a tragedy, it's brutal and it hurts. It's traumatic and impossible to forget, even if it wasn't happening constantly just to remind us that it's still there. On this note, I would recommend you research writing characters with PTSD.

Have him think about it. Sometimes I get home after getting stared down on the street and just want to yell. You don't forget a microaggression or a hate crime after five minutes. Let him vent and let him be upset. He can have flashbacks or recall similar situations that happened in the past.

I'm glad that he's aware of disfiguremisia unlike a ton of characters who are somehow always unable to figure out that it's a problem. If the ableism he's facing is so systemic and severe, individual people will be even more extreme. You can have him remember that the shop owner was a slur-spitting bigot, or that his neighbors avoid even talking to him. I want him to call them out - in retrospective, at the moment, in his head, whatever - on what they're doing. Throw a "not this fucking thing again" or something in there.

The minimum is to make him feel like a human with an internal thought process, who is able to actually experience what's happening to him, and for it to have long-term effects.

Also, outside of the whole disfiguremisia thing and me being overdramatic, check out our #blindness tag, and research burn scar care. If you don't show the boring and mundane, it will only feel closer to tragedy porn; just a sad thing one after another.

I will also do my best to make the counters feel real and feasible - I want it to feel like an achievable option for those who deal with prejudice in the real world.

This I think is the part of the ask that made me the saddest, and not because of what you wrote. I tried to think of achievable ways; ways that we did it, tried to do it, and are doing it, and one-by-one I crossed them out as "didn't work", "no one cared enough" or "kinda worked but honestly, it didn't". Face Equality is basically non-existent, not matter how much it hurts me to admit it! We are trying our best, and it doesn't work. It's just plain hard for me to come up with suggestions for this.

In fiction, I suppose that personal resistance is the way when it comes to this. I don't think there are feasible systemic changes that could happen that don't border on magical thinking or get into the "singular glorious revolution that somehow fixes everything and everyone lived happy ever after. We fixed racism, yay!". This just sucks.He could try to educate the people who are willing to listen - that's somewhat what I'm trying to pull off here on this blog, I guess. Sometimes it works, often it doesn't, but in his situation it wouldn't hurt to try.

The fundamental part here will be whether your character is able to find a way to make the ordinary person care in the end. To me, society who still hates us just as much, with a small group that thinks we're okay isn't a happy ending. The opposite, rather. It's cold and isolating to know only your friends could value you as a human being, and downright sad to imply that we should be happy for that. I don't mean that everyone should love us in every story, but there's a difference between The Ableism being represented by an antagonist or two versus the entire world except for the main characters.

If you decide to go forward with this story, I do hope your other readers with facial differences enjoy it!

mod Sasza

[This ask was submitted before my announcement of not taking questions regarding this subject matter. As of publishing this, it still applies.]

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #disfiguremisia #tw ableism #long post

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aforgotto · 1 year

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the evolution of perfection

#'he's small and he's full of hatred' is also outdated information just real life specimens still being labelled incorrectly even tho their #information is updated as new discoveries are made #fred is full of love and joy and he does everything he can to maintain peace #he's a carnivore so he had to sacrifice hunger for friendship (oops)#but he's a pretty princess now #spore #spore creation #fred

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irndad · 1 month

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won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man.

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one.

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk.

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership.

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you.

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself.

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning.

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks.

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection.

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone.

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation.

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically.

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this.

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting.

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride.

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth.

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips.

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic.

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?)

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shanieveh · 9 months

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when im no longer young and beautiful...

— growing old with the genshin men

you both wander the world — kazuha, KAVEH, itto, bennett, TARTAGLIA, kaeya, xingqiu, heizou

Even as years and decades go by, you and him travel the world in order to really feel its beauty. And the best part? Even as your hair color turns gray, you both were still together. And it was the most beautiful part in all your adventures.

Seeing every single part of the world and cherishing all it's glory. You were glad to do it with him, his smile never really changed after all these years. In some cheesy way, in all your adventures his utter joy is the best view.

settling in and starting a family— alhaitham, DILUC, ayato, thoma, TIGHNARI, gorou, tartaglia

It probably is adopting or other means, but with him you finally have family. Full of cheers, full of parenting but always full of love. Every day you were never alone, there was never an instance where you felt unwanted. Home. That was one word to describe it.

But watching all your little babies grow up was the hardest part, and as they all go on and live their lives he was still there. Doing the same lovey dovey gestures he did when you first fell in love, when you married, and when you grow old in each other's arms.

living a quiet life— kaeya, xiao, THOMA, tighnari, CYNO, dainsleif, SCARAMOUCHE, KAVEH, albedo

Both of you have gone through so much, and this domestic bliss is really the heaven. The happy ending. Everyday growing the plants to eat, doing laundry, cleaning the dishes. These little mundane tasks, just being in each other's presence. No one to bother you, no more pain. Just... peace.

Even as time fades by like sunsets in the afternoon, it never really got boring. Just living in a simple house, sleeping in an always disorganized bed. Playing with the little kids in the farm. You couldn't ask for anything else, with him by your side you couldn't ask for anything more. Because what else can you even ask for when this is enough.

still acts like young couples— kaeya, ALHAITHAM, xingqiu, VENTI, heizou, itto, cyno, ZHONGLI

It doesn't matter even if wrinkles cover your face, he would still kiss every part of you. The same over the top pet names. Still twirling you around like your first date. Still sharing the same straw in your favorite drink. Sometimes people would share a look of judgment but he really didn't care.

Dancing in the rain, the water droplets as your very own music. Laughter as your melody. 5 years.. turned to 20 years turned to 30 years. Even then the dance never had actual steps, more so the tapping and intimacy of two soulmates in the comfort of the rain.

BONUS: visiting your grave— scaramouche, VENTI, zhongli, xiao, DAINSLEIF, pierro, albedo

Knowing that one day his immortality would catch up, he cherished every single day with you. And for a very long time he never had been so happy—so content. Looking at your grave, one that he himself carved your favorite flowers. Making a garden surrounding it. It became more of a haven for him, rather than a mouring spot.

He was grateful for everything, the memories, the time even if finite, and you. His mind always full of war for a minute... finally became happy. He finally learned to be grateful for what he had. And even years after your death, he was still so glad... that you grew old with him.

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elixrr · 4 months

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It's heartbreaking, being a fictional character in a fictional world. They're either loved and cared for until they're abandoned by their player, or they're mistreated and misplaced by that player. There's no control, no option for them.

They could fall in love. They could do everything to please their player, but in the end, their player will always leave them behind. They'll end up as some toy to tinker with, a little plaything until their player gets bored and slowly but surely begins to leave them behind.

You did that to them— you did it to him. Maybe you used him so much that you got too bored, or perhaps you just found someone else to play with; you did reach friendship level 10 with him. During your friendship level journey, you've played and listened to all of the voice lines he provided, even repeating your favorites. He sought after the joy of hearing your praise, comment, and remarks in response to his voice lines. He's seen so much of you over the course of the journey, and, in return, he showed himself to you.

But then you left him.

It started off with you visiting strange domains and obtaining its artifacts. Judging by the collection, you definitely weren't trying to rebuild him. Those artifacts and materials were clearly meant for somebody else.

He'd often watch you switch teams to build that mystery person, maybe to test them out; to use them; to play with them. Yet, you'd always come back to him afterward, and because of that, he was fine, satisfied. As long as you'd keep coming back.

But, at some point, you simply didn't return.

He was fighting the monsters of a smoky blue leyline, and he, having won the battles, gave you those same purple and maroon papers that you needed for this mystery person. You were happy. You looked really relieved to finally get these, and through the mask of an idle animation, he smiled, proud of himself for making you smile. You thanked him, and then you switched the character and team, and you were out of view once more.

He sighed, tired from fighting all these battles and random enemies, but he was glad that you'd probably be able to finish leveling this mystery character up. Now you can keep playing with and using him, right? This way, you'll be done with this other person, and you'll come back to him, right?

Wrong.

One whole day passed. You were online, but he couldn't see you.

Another day passed. Where'd you go? Are you still testing out that new person?

Five days drag by. Some of those days you didn't go on for, but for the most part, you were there, just not for him. What happened? Why weren't you coming back?

One full week had finally passed.

You were nowhere to be seen.

Waiting in the team lineup screen began to get lonely. You took two of the supports with you, and so he couldn't talk to him. One other person remained. Another support, but more off-field. Often, he would glance at them to see how they were doing. Even they looked as miserable as he did, but eventually, they found their way back to you through another team composition.

You took everyone with you except for him.

Where did you go?

He tumbled, falling down on the ground. It's been nearly a full month. You haven't even looked at him once. He could see through the slightly translucent walls and backgrounds, and he saw other team lineups waiting. He saw one team in use, as it had an open fourth wall and it was emptied, meaning that the characters left that team screen to join back into the world of teyvat.

He began to reminisce about his first awakening when you got him, you were smiling really hard. You were so excited when he woke up in that wishing star, striking a pose. He doesn't know how long he'd been unconscious around that time, but you woke him up, and you gave him more purpose, more life. He could see you and everything behind you. He could see that there was more than just teyvat through this strange wall you lived past. He was curious, yet he was happier just being yours to have in your little party with different people, some of which he had never seen before.

But now they're gone, and so were you. He doubts that they're ever coming back, and he doubts that you'll ever come back to him.

Wait.

The fourth wall in front of him shatters.

Is that you?

He immediately stood up, ready to greet you with that same pose he would always strike in the team lineup. And the moment you opened that wall, all of the other supports came back instantly, like they never left in the first place. He wasn't alone anymore.

His eyes lit up. You selected his character and were going through his character details. You're finally paying more attention to him! Are you finally gonna use him again? He puts his hands together as you check his artifacts.

There's a moment of hesitation in you. He barely opens his eyes to look at your apologetic face. You whisper an apology, and— to his horror— strip him of his artifacts one by one.

His flower is gone. His feather was taken. His sands timer, his goblet, and his circlet were stripped of his very being. Then you switched to his weapon. It was his very own weapon that you spent so much time on, and you took even that from him. He looked up to the upper-left corner of the room. Even if the text was backward, he could see that this new weapon was nothing but some random 1-star weapon from some measly chest you opened. You looked at him one more time, and you left his character details.

He felt betrayed. You weren't going to use him anymore. You re-entered the team lineup screen and selected him. He watched you scroll through your list of characters, and within a zap, he was transported to a black screen, a void, a room full of nothing but himself.

You had just completely replaced him.

You left the team lineup, and his eyes were forced shut. Your once beloved main was now back into his deep, endless, meaningless slumber.

“Creator! Creator!!”

A large group of people were yelling, waking him and a few others up. It was every single character that you owned and obtained throughout your journey. Some he recognized from the get-go, and others he'd never seen before in all of his life. Everyone you had obtained were shouting for you.

“Wh— wha? What's the matter?”

A short girl with brown hair and amber eyes came up to him in a panic.

“Thank Barbatos, you're up! The player is about to delete the game! We might be erased!”

He froze. You were deleting the game? He put his hand over his mouth. You were really leaving him now, weren't you?

Would you ever come back?

“Please!” The amber-eyed girl cried, “Help us!”

He wobbled backward. He couldn't take this.

“The player loves you! Maybe you can reverse this!”

“They don't.” He mumbled.

“Wh— what?”

“They don't— don't love me anymore.”

He stumbled, falling over at the realization. At that moment, everyone was panicking. The calmest people he knew were crumbling and stressing over this. He looked up at the transparent digital fourth wall. Your mouse hovered over the digital recycling bin.

Suddenly, you spoke.

“It was really nice playing the game, but I think...”

A moment of silence evoked in the crowd.

“...I think I need to start a new chapter of my lif—”

And you let go of that mouse. You let go of them. Everyone felt a strong gust of wind blow them out of the black screen, and they were transported to their designated places in the character list. Nobody—except for the traveler—remained in any team lineup. You removed everything.

He looked around. Black and grey smoke began to overtake the elemental colors of each designated character screen. Everyone banged on the walls until the void took them, and they became forever motionless. They were mannequins now, thoughtless ragdolls standing still. He banged on the glass, using his 1-star weapon to try and break out, but it was useless.

Eventually, he became just like everyone else. A thoughtless, motionless, abandoned toy that you had played with until you left.

—

(any) genshin men x reader ｜ comment for p.2

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wilwheaton · 11 months

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fuck you pat robertson

Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.

The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.

"Pat Robertson," they say. "We've been expecting you."

Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 ... they all deserved it. They were sinners!

The bouncer speaks into their headset. "He's here." They listen. "Yep. At the front of the line."

The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. "Just wait here for one moment, please."

Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.

After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.

"Excuse me," he says to the bouncer, "I am Pat --"

"Robertson. Yes. We know. We're just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment."

Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.

They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don't even notice him as they pass. It's like he isn't even there.

Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn't had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.

"Hey!" He shouts at the bouncer. "What's the problem? Don't you know who I am?"

The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. "We know exactly who you are."

"Well, alright, then!" Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, "if you aren't going to help me, get someone here who will!"

The bouncer speaks into its headset again. "We're ready."

A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh -- or was, once -- slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson's view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.

Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.

In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson's hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.

Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they've been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.

One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it's inside Pat Robertson's head and everywhere else all at once. "I'm Rush Limbaugh," it says. "I'm your new roommate. Come with me."

And that's when Pat Robertson knows. That's when it all hits him, all at once. He's getting everything he deserves.

The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can't hurt anyone, anymore.

The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It's built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.

The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.

Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.

A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn't feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.

And Pat Robertson's eternity begins.

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joonipertree · 11 months

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Gang Leader Girlfriend Things™

Tags: Mikey x Fem!reader, Fluff, crack, no angst, he's only soft for you <3, love of his life

You know, I think the first rule of joining a gang should be 'don't piss off the leader'. Like, you wanna fight people who can whoop your ass? Go for it, that takes courage and respect. But you join a gang like Toman with 'Invincible Mikey' as the head, the one thing you should probably not do is make him mad.

(Nobody is stupid enough to do that though, much less Toman.)

Mikey personally didn't fight the weak, finds no joy in something that isn't a challenge. Two highschoolers that got recruited by Mitchy's crew? He could tell they were nothing from the back of their babbling heads.

"My god, there's no way a girl like that is here. She's so fucking hot."

"What's a girl even doing in a gang? There's no way she fights."

Mikey's eye twitched. Not only are you most definitely in Toman, with a gang jacket and everything (You had your own but you ended up wearing his most of the time, pretty in what's his.) One of Toman's strongest was Senju, someone who would kick their ass too.

"Do you think she's single?"

"She is not." Mikey drawled, eyes dead and head tilted. Draken came behind him, wondering why his captain was just standing there. Mikey was always friendly with new members but very evidently, those two were an exception.

"What a bummer. She could've been mine."

Draken wanted to laugh so badly but Mikey's hand was warning him into silence before he could.

Mikey couldn't see the dude's face but knew that he was too ugly for you. You weren't into pathetic fucks. And the only person Mikey was pathetic for, was you.

A lot of gang members' eyes were on them now, ready to bow to their captain but stopping when Draken raised his palm. They could tell something was off, looking at the two kids who just didn't bother turning. The aura around Mikey was practically tangible though, suffocating to anyone who took notice.

Yamagishi staggered towards his friends, ready to point out the very dangerous threat behind them. Of course, he was the one who recruited them. If he wasn't Takemitchy's friend, Mikey would've added him to his blacklist. Mikey's finger against his lip kept Yamagishi from saying anything. Their fates were sealed already.

"Man, I could probably take her boyfriend on. Easy win and I get her."

Draken choked, Yamagishi wanted to die, the few people who were close enough to listen stepped away. Mikey still didn't say anything, because the moment he was waiting for finally happened.

Chifuyu had let you know of the arrival with a nod of his head, pausing in his rant about a manga you guys had been reading. You saw Draken's head first, eyes lowering, knowing that Mikey would always fall close. And there he was, his blond ponytail the only thing you could see. Your heart filled up like it always did because fuck, you wanted to consume him in your love. His eyes peaked out and your smile stretched your cheeks.

You walked as if on auto pilot, feet having a pep in them as you did. He stepped out in full view and you squealed at his gentle eyes and outstretched arms. You practically ran to him, you missed him and missed him and missed him.

Your shoulder grazed someone's as you zoomed past and launched yourself into Manjiro's warm embrace. Strong arms encircled you immediately, his cheek squishing against yours. And before you knew it, your feet were off the ground as he twirled you around. Unabashed laughter left your lips, hanging onto him and letting his warm and wet kisses pepper your face. The swooping in your chest was welcomed, clinging to the boy you've loved for years. Your precious----

"Hi, Jiro~" You crooned, eyes open to catch his reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes.

He put your feet on the ground and pulled you close by the waist, noses touching each other's.

"Hi, baby." He said in a hushed voice.

You gave his cheek a peck, knowing one on the lips would result in him not getting off of you. There was supposed to be a meeting, so you decided to have him later. Being a gang leader's girlfriend was hard work.

"Did you have a good day?" You asked, knowing he woke up an hour ago, barely in the realm to text you a 'good morning, honey' ('Morning' in Mikey's realm was 1pm).

"Mhm." Mikey hummed, giving your cheek a kiss too. You relished in it.

"Where are you going?" Draken's voice came gruffly and you saw the tall man with his hands on two members' shoulders.

Your boyfriend's gaze fell on them, hardened and cold. It made you shiver, his arms tightening around you when you did. It didn't scare you, he looked hot but it never meant anything good.

You blinked at the two boys, confused and just now noticing the complete silence and the eyes of everyone on you.

I mean, you were a spectacle whenever Jiro was involved but weren't they used to it by now?

"You guys have really bad awareness if you didn't notice me even when I spoke up. I don't know if we want that in our gang." Mikey's words were sweet but dripping in venom, a grin to hide his clear rage.

"I'm so so sorry, boss! We didn't know she was yours, I swear!!" Dude no 1 got on his knees immediately, more so because his legs gave out.

"It's our first day, please have mercy." Dude no 2 shouted, bowing till his head met the floor.

Oh, you thought, they were actual idiots.

Seeing people bow and beg at your boyfriend was always surreal. You knew he had repertoire and respect because of years of being a gang leader. Personally, you never really understood gang things tm. But you knew your Mikey could kick ass and people looked up to him, so you always enjoyed the times he did gang leader things tm cuz it was hot.

"Yamagishi, you recruited them so you have responsibility. Have anything to add?" Mikey asked the frozen boy, who probably stopped breathing a long time ago.

"Uh, it was Takemitchy's idea?" The boy said, knowing who Mikey's kryptonite was.

"You're the one who asked me. Don't try to get me killed along with them!" The acting president hollered.

Mikey turned to his best friend, smile still plastered on his face. If Takemitchy didn't have the trauma to back up his biggest endeavour, he would be worried that the dark impulse would've possessed him from that interaction alone.

"Mitchy, normally I would let the head captain step in for any decision made about their division. But since they directly challenged me, we have to deal with it like all gangs do, right?"

"We didn't....we didn't know, promise!" Dude no 2 peeped out.

"Hmm, but wasn't it you who said that you could take her boyfriend on? It'd be an easy win? There's enough people who witnessed that."

"Oh, Lord Almighty." Takemitchy murmured, "nothing can save them now."

"Not even an hour in and they're going to die." Another murmur from the crowd. (It was Ran)

"I never said that, I am not a part of this." Dude no 1 threw his friend under the bus immediately. It was understandable.

"'She could've been mine,'" Mikey practically sang, taking off his jacket, "is what you said, right?"

"No I couldn't," you spoke absentmindedly, only looking at your boyfriend cuz you'd lost interest in the morons, "you're too ugly for me."

It was a blow that hit almost as hard as the kick they were about to receive. Mikey let out an affectionate snort as he covered your head with his jacket. The heavy material blocking your peripheral as he left your side within a second. A sick crack brandished the air, followed by two thuds.

"Welp, that fight didn't last. How boring, wanted to show off." Mikey sounded bored, the asphalt crunching under his slippers as he walked back.

"Are they--" Takemitchy's panicked pitch followed, a very common tone whenever Mikey was involved.

"Breathing." Draken called out, giving them a light kick on the side to check.

"Takemitchy, your crew is banned from recruiting." Their leader yelled back with his head only half turned, a flurry of 'yes sir!'s came.

"Thank you for holding onto my jacket, baby." Mikey whispered as he took the jacket off your head and draped it on his shoulders. His eyes were back to being kind and gentle, warm hand cupping your face in gratitude. You melted into him, eyes closing. He left a kiss on your forehead, keeping you close.

"Ah, I'm hungry," he whined, "let's go get mcdonald's. I didn't eat breakfast."

"You didn't?" You asked as he interwined your fingers together and tugged.

"I had cereal but that barely counts." Mikey started chattering on, waving a hand to dismiss the meeting that never began.

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kishibei · 1 year

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GUYS MY AGE ...

dilf! toji x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.6k words

summary: toji loves everything about his younger girlfriend, all except the overly friendly relationship she has with his son. to curb his unspoken fear of losing you, you fuck him.

cont: jealousy, possessive language, affectionate toji, missionary, mating press, no resolution, creampie per usual

Toji loved your body; he could never fight that little nagging thought sitting in the back of his mind— the one telling him to touch you.

Your boyfriend's hands were strong, holding a roughness that was tender in its own right— the honest pads of his fingers hardened from years of dirty work.

His fingerprints were practically committed to your memory, each one just a little different from the next. Uneven swirls and ridges winded into each other; tips tacked with scars and deeper indentations from his gunslinging days.

You could feel them all when he walked his hands down your body; even more so when he had you spread open across his thighs, teasing you with just a couple of fingers.

...

Toji appreciated the softer parts of you and paid more attention to them. Your chest, your ass, and the slight pinch of your cheeks constantly reminded him of your youth compared to his— a youth that appeared long gone when you'd met his gaze now; thin black eyes adorned with crow's feet.

His eyes held a vision that was faraway, a distant kind of look he'd always given when he was upset about something. That stoney face he wore never failed to betray his emotions, bearing them on his sleeves despite his best efforts at swallowing them down. There was only one thing that could've been bothering Toji; the same thing that had been eating him up for weeks— his irrational fear of losing you.

Toji really had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping you to himself. You were a one man kind of girl, ignoring the advances of any others who set their sights on you. He often scorned your younger peers, making fun of them without second thought, especially taking joy in tormenting the very man who introduced you to himself: his own son.

...

His first and only, Megumi was beyond fit. Clever, agile, and full of much more life than he was; Megumi was the spitting image of Toji in his younger years. Their striking resemblance was never quite something he saw as a bad thing, at least not until he began to date you.

It was the spoils of his own labor he envied— so much younger and almost perfect for you.

With the kind of drive that came with youth, Megumi easily had a long list of goals he fought fiercely to achieve; ones that he was never really shy to let you know of. He was shameless in this right, not even trying to hide his willingness to impress you in front of his father.

Toji would have been an idiot to not notice his son's infatuation with you. Only a fool would've choosen to ignore the longing glances, the lingering hugs, how the younger man always managed to look away whenever his father kissed you.

At times your boyfriend wondered if you’d prefer someone who wasn't this much your senior, mumbling his insecurities into your chest when he thought you’d already fallen asleep at night.

You had loved him just as much as he did you; your heart swelling with an appreciation for all things Toji. So here in his lap, you humor him; giving him a small reminder of just who you belonged to.

The man had softened up over the years but his strength still remained, thick corded muscle staying firm beneath the thinning skin he had cursed so much.

You hardly blinked; watching intently as he fingered the hem of the shirt he was wearing, peeling it off slowly to expose his muscular chest. His pecs were adorned with light blue branches of veins that shone through his patinaed skin.

Despite how perfect, almost god-like he appeared in this moment, the sight reminded you of his humanity.

You're not sure of what exactly he did before he settled down with you, how many people he’d really killed, or the curses that followed him in his lifetime; but it was a reminder that blood still ran thick in those veins of his, and that they sustained the heart that bled only for you.

“I love you…” he whispered, the sudden confession making you laugh. A giggle bubbled up in your throat before bursting forth into the air, a sound reminiscent of wind chimes escaping your lips. It was an infectious thing, lifting the corners of Toji’s lips to form a gentle arc that stretched from cheek to cheek.

He's impatient when he tugs your jeans off, not even bothering to remove his as he opens his fly just enough to pull his heavy cock out. You know he’s hard despite the fact it barely stands erect, his leaky head bowing under the weight of the rest of him.

You can't help but lick your lips as you stare down at it, eyes already lidded with hazy vision as he grips onto the base, slipping into you without much of a fight.

A shaky breath leaves Toji's lips as he settles in, hissing at how your hole flutters, already clamping down on him.

"Shit..” he sibilates, “so fuckin’ wet for me…”

The words seem to go straight to your pussy as you clench around him, whining a bit from the praise and the mind-numbing feeling of him sinking into you.

He’s so big, he knows he is. Toji’s fully aware of how he fills you to the brim, how deep he reaches, practically prodding at your cervix as he lowers you down on him. He’s teeming with confidence now, pressing down on your tummy to show you just where he’s sure the tip of his length reaches.

“Mm, you feel that, baby?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear your head enough to find the words to respond. Pushing past little whimpers, you stumble over all the syllables you need. Deciding it's best to give up on speaking, you nod profusely, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. Upon revealing your stupefied expression to him, he laughs like he always does; a low rumble that just drips in arrogance as it falls from his lips.

“That’s all me…” he purrs, deft fingers slowly caressing the rest of your body, stopping to squeeze at your soft chest.

His unyielding touch moves down to your legs; strong hands finding purchase on the back of your thighs as he practically folds you in half, pressing your thighs to your chest like nothing.

It's so much, and you can feel him even deeper now, every inch of him plunging into you at a disconcerting pace. You squeal as he pounds into you sloppily, pressing messy kisses to your cheeks, the tops of your ears, down the expanse of your neck, and just about every bit of skin he can get his lips on from this angle.

He loves you, this you know. And even if he hadn't said it earlier, the way he’s fucking you says it all.

“Ooohh, shit Toji!” you sputter, eagerly bouncing on the man’s lap as you try to match his thrusts. Your body shakes with the force of each pump, moaning wantonly as he slowly drags his cock out of you, ramming it back in your dripping hole again and again.

You seem to be growing dumber by the second, incoherent babbles and whines leaving your lips as he fucks the shit out of you. If you could focus on one thing, you would; but your eyes shift everywhere, rolling into the back of your head before meeting with the place where your bodies connected, watching in a trance as Toji’s thick cock disappears into your sopping wet cunt.

Toji grunts, his hips bucking wildly as he clings to you tightly, your back against his broad chest as he uses the force of his pounding to bounce you on even harder than before. He grits through his teeth, eyes shutting hard before they open again, his lips at your ears as a string of expletives leave them.

“Fuckin’ hell, ease up, you’re squeezin’ me…” he strained, jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might just break.

Toji looked like he was reeling, so close to the edge but still holding on, trying to push you over yours before letting himself go.

“Fuck…whose pussy is this?" he panted, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keeping his pace, his hips stuttering as he got closer to finishing now.

You couldn’t answer, mouth preoccupied with moan after the next as you tried anyways, babbling at him like an idiot.

“Mmngh! Y-yours! Yours, right?!"

It was difficult to even answer him straight, just saying anything, you jumbled up the first few words that floated into your hazy mind.

Toji laughed, taking in a shaky breath as he kept going, pulling your legs back even further as he slammed into you with a force that was overwhelming.

"Mine… all fuckin’ mine, you hear?!"

His pace was grueling and you were surely at your limit, crystalline tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he fucked you. Your skin felt like it was on fire, a deep familiar knot in the pit of your stomach just threatening to break.

“I hear! Hear you, Toji!" you yelped, mouth hung open in a perpetual 'O' as you teetered over the edge, right at the cusp of your orgasm.

“I can't! Can’t take any more, please!"

Toji amused you with a crooked grin, using his rough fingers to circle your puffy clit, the extra stimulation giving you just what you needed. You came with a cry, electricity coursing through your veins as you moaned wantonly, gushing around him with a shudder.

The force of your orgasm sent Toji straight into his own, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you, filling you to the brim with thick spurts of cum.

He huffed, chest heaving as he kissed you messily, slotting his tongue into your mouth just before he pulled away to speak.

“You’re so good… but just for me, yea?"

He pressed his lips against yours again and the corners of your mouth turned up in a satisfied smile, loving when he got like this. Toji grew soft, cuddling up to you as he slipped out of your cunt, a runny mix of both his and your fluids dripping onto his lap.

“Only for me…”

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explicit-tae · 5 months

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One Way Or Another (2/2)

After nearly 3 years, your therapist encourages you to let the past be the past - "what can go wrong after all these years?" she says. @silversparkles11 @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @mak7sstuff @namjinsworld @laylasbunbunny @roseki @castlewolfsbane @babycandy111 @minshookie29 @btsw1fe @kyglover @trevsinz @roseki

Part 1

i'm so sorry this took a whole year :')

Word Count: 7.295

Warning: dark themes, smut, yandere, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, mentions of dark sexual desire, noncon/dubcon, creep jungkook, kidnapping, acts of violence, narcissistic behavior, unsolicited grinding/groping, unprotected sex, creampie,

“Hyung,” Jungkook sighs over the phone, his voice cracking. “she’s so beautiful…”

Namjoon sighs over the other line. “Where are you?”

Jungkook’s legs begin to bounce, the child lying against him. “With my daughter.” was not the response Namjoon is expecting. He’s silent, unsure if his ears heard what Jungkook actually said. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N never told me…” Jungkook’s voice cracks once more. “...Why would she leave me, hyung? Leave with my daughter?”

Namjoon can hear the rage in Jungkook’s voice, getting higher as he speaks. “Calm down, Kook.” Namjoon begins. “Are you with Y/N now?”

Jungkook scoffs. “No. She left my daughter with a babysitter.”

Namjoon sighs in relief. “Alright.” he begins. “What are you planning on doing?”

Jungkook presses a kiss against the child’s head, holding her in an embrace that he doesn’t want to release her from. His heart is full, even when he knows it would just be broken by you once more.

For years he had tried to search for you to come up with nothing - all until a few months prior. He had to thank Namjoon for it, his hyung having a lead that led him to you.

You looked so different, yet still so beautiful. It causes a smile to form on Jungkook’s lips watching you - he wants to come to you. He wants to reach out and hug you and declare how much he missed you.

But Jungkook didn’t - you weren’t ready. So what he chose to do was continue to watch - and when his eyes caught on you and the small child, he nearly cried; both in rage and in joy. Joy because this was his first child that resembled him more than not. Rage because you had left him with his child, refusing to come back home where you belonged.

Now here Jungkook was holding his child, the small girl welcoming him with open arms. She’s sweet, willingly allowing him to hold her close and kiss her head once she heard that he was her dad - even at her young age.

Jungkook’s attention peaks when he hears the water to the shower turn off. He sighs, annoyance running through him. He sets his daughter down, upset that his time with her was so little, but the babysitter - one who was not worthy to be around his child - was moments away from returning.

“My beautiful daughter.” Jungkook presses another kiss to her head, sighing into it. “Appa will be back, okay?” he says, smiling down at her.

“O-kay.” the soft voice hits Jungkook’s ears and it takes everything in him to leave her there.

“Obviously I need to get my family back, hyung.” Jungkook responds, dipping out the front door just as he hears the door to the bathroom open.

“I agree.” Namjoon says. “Don’t do anything too rash, Kook.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but when it comes to having you and his daughter in his life, nothing was “too” rash. He had to start with whoever this Stefan person was in your life.

“You like this guy, right? Your co-worker?” your therapist questions.

Your head lays in your hands as you nod it, leaning back against the decorative chair - the same one you’ve sat in once a week for years now.

“It’s been a year since you opened up about your past.” she notes. “What you’ve been through with that man is terrible, Y/N.”

That man - your therapist never says Jungkook’s name. She refuses after you told her the entire truth of what you’ve endured by him.

“That does not mean love is out of the picture.” she leans forward with a soft smile on her lips. “You’ve spoken fondly of your co-worker. Do you like him?”

Your mind thinks of Stefan. You met him when you first moved and started a new job - and life away from what you were accustomed to. It was a stressful move that had you constantly looking over your shoulder, terrified that Jungkook would be there.

Stefan, however, appeared to be a breath of fresh air. He was charming in his own way, someone that could make you laugh when you needed it. He was persistent, but never pushy.

But even if Stefan was everything you thought you needed, you weren’t sure you could ever pursue him. You were left traumatized after Jungkook - the constant calls and messages to your phones; oftentime threatening. The amount of times he was able to find you when you thought you’d lost him - only when you filed for a temporary restraining order did it stop. But temporary was the keyword, nothing was ever permanent. Jungkook was a charming man to the public, flashing a smile and batting his eyelashes and everything he’s done could be washed away.

The first chance you took to move away, you did, not caring if the restraining order would be voided. Jungkook would know where you’d be - he’ll have to know where he couldn’t go.

Even now, years later, you could hear the harsh, threatening words from Jungkook. “I hate that you choose them over me.” Jungkook said about Lina and any type of friendship you had. “You’re leaving me because I care about your well-being?” when you attempted to end it with him, and the cherry on top being, “You look at me as if I would ever hurt you. I could kill you then myself…but I’ve never thought about doing that once.” and somehow, you weren’t convinced.

“Y/N?”

You blink a few times to come back to reality. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize to me.” your therapist shakes her head. “You do that often. You get in your head and it’s hard to get out of it.”

You smile weakly at her. Your eyes turn towards the clock on her desk facing you. “Looks like time is up.” you murmur.

“Ah, I suppose so.” your therapist eye’s you as you rise from your seated position and gather your belongings. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” you say to her with knitted brows.

“Happy Birthday to your daughter. She turns 3 today, correct?”

You smile, nodding your head. “Yes. Ava is turning 3.” you say. “I actually have to go pick her up.”

Your therapist nods. “I know she’ll have an amazing birthday.”

You tried your best to give your daughter everything she needed. It’s not easy - nothing in your life ever was, especially now.

Finding out you were pregnant in the midst of getting away from Jungkook was not something you wanted to deal with - yet and still, an abortion is not something you wanted to go through. Your pregnancy was a rough one - you’ve grown depressed and rotted yourself in self-pity. You couldn’t fully connect with your daughter until the end of your pregnancy when reality was settling in that you were going to be a mother.

As you held your daughter in your arms the day she was born, your heart swells with love, even if she appeared similar to the man you didn’t wish to see. You wanted her to be nothing but safe and feel all the love from you that she couldn’t feel from another parent.

“Think about it, Y/N.” your therapist speaks as she walks you towards her office door. “You deserve happiness, as well. What can go wrong after all these years?” she says.

A shudder runs up your spine for the first time in years at her words, unsure truly as to why.

“You’re so messy.” you laugh at your daughter, going to wipe her face from the pasta sauce that is smeared on her cheeks.

You and Ava are seated in the small restaurant, an intimate moment between the two of you. She was older now, and you always wanted to give her the birthday she deserves. However, you aren’t making the amount of money you once were - working at Sapphire's after dark made you more money in one night than you do now with a paycheck. You could only ever afford to take her somewhere to eat and a small cake.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.Sometimes as parents, we blame ourselves for not being able to give our children the world.” your therapist has said a week prior. You had cried how you wanted to give your daughter more, but couldn’t afford to. “But children don’t want the world, they want their parent’s love and support.”

It’s advice you often have to repeat so you wouldn’t put yourself down.

“Wanna eat your cake?” you sniffle, blinking a few times to regain focus.

“Yes.” your daughter nods meekly, her voice so soft that it causes you to coo.

The cake is small and round. It’s chocolate, her favorite, and you are quick to cut her a piece. You aren’t hungry and would often watch her eat, satisfied with her being fed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, noticing how her eyes would flicker from her cake up towards you. “Do you not like the cake?”

Ava shakes her head. “Where’s appa?”

You’re positive that your face pales, possibly looking as if you saw a ghost.

“W-What do you mean, baby?” you stutter. Ava has never asked for her father - or any father at that. This is the first time you’re hearing this and your heart is pumping with nerves.

“Where is appa?” Ava asks again, this time a little higher. “Appa said he will be back.”

Your heart begins to beat loudly outside your chest. Your throat tightens, unable to respond to your daughter. Your mind is racing at her words - again, Ava never speaks like this.

What does she mean he said he’ll be back?

“Come on, baby.” you gather the cake in your hands to save it for later. You’re trembling and it angers you. You don’t want your daughter to see you like this. “We have to go home.”

“I wanna see Appa.” Ava’s voice is growing softer and you’re certain she was going to cry. You shake your head, eyes bouncing around the restaurant. The familiar feeling was coming back - the feeling of being stared at. You haven’t felt this way in over a year.

“Ava, baby. We have to go.” you don’t allow your daughter to continue with her tantrum. You place money down on the table, gather your daughter and the cake and journey out of the restaurant.

“Y/N?” the sound of Yuri’s voice sounds through your phone. “Is everything alright?”

“I-I…can you watch Ava?” you murmur. “I’m sorry this is so last minute. I-I know I just picked her up but-”

“Y/N, calm down.” Yuri quips. “Are you alright? You sound so scared.”

You weren’t alright, but you couldn’t tell Yuri - or anyone - anything. You look down at Ava walking besides you, her small hand in yours. Her eyes are up at you, a slight sad look on her face.

“Y/N…” Yuri trails off at your silence. “...I can watch Ava no problem.”

“Thank you, Yuri. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize.” Yuri interrupts you. “You know I love Ava.”

Yuri was someone you were grateful for. You were grateful for your therapist for helping you find Yuri - she was her niece, after all. She was young and attending college. She lived in an apartment fully paid by her parents as long as she attended college. She was a sweet girl and Ava loved her just as much as she loved Ava.

It took ten minutes for you to be at Yuri’s door, her already meeting you. She slightly pats Ava’s head as you arrive.

“Here’s her cake, I, um…she didn’t really get a chance to eat it.” your heart drops. Yuri notices that you’re trembling still as she takes the cake. “Thank you so much, Yuri.”

“Y/N, please. Are you safe?” Yuri drops her tone to assure Ava isn’t listening. The television is on in the livingroom and she’s already seated in front of it.

“Yes.” you nod, even if you’re unsure yourself. “I just…have to go talk to your aunt and-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Yuri shakes her head. She doesn’t know your backstory, and she understands that her aunt being your therapist that it isn’t something she could ask. But the terrified look in your eyes is what worries her.

You nod. “Thank you.” you were grateful for Yuri, truly.

Within 20 minutes, you were back at your therapist's office. You were speaking nonstop, going through countless scenarios of what Ava could be speaking of about her father - stating that he would be coming back.

“Sometimes children have imaginary friends. Especially at her age.” your therapist stands to calm you. “She probably made up her own father figure to make up for the lack of it.”

“But,” you shake your head. “I don’t think-”

“Y/N. It’s been years.”

You inhale, counting in your head. You exhale.

“Ava is fine. You are fine.” your therapist assures. “Ava is growing older. She will soon ask about where her father is as she enters school. She will see her peers have something that she does not.”

Your head falls into your hands at her words.

You didn’t want this for Ava - you wanted to be everything she needed. You wished she had a father figure, but if Jungkook was that, you’d rather do everything alone.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t an amazing mother. You are. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“She asked about him.” you say meekly. “She said that he was coming back as if…she saw him. Can children imagine so vividly?”

Your therapist nods. “The imagination of a child is unmatched. I suggest you sit down and speak with her. She may be 3, but she’s a growing child.”

As you were about to respond, your phone sounds with a notification. It’s Stefan, you note, his name dashing through your screen.

“Respond to it.” your therapist nods. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He can be a psycho.” you murmur, but even you didn’t believe that. Stefan didn’t share any red flags with you and acted like a complete sweetheart.

But again, so did Jungkook in the beginning.

“Don’t allow yourself to not feel love because of your past, Y/N.” your therapist gives you a small smile.

“He…wants to meet up.” you sigh. “I can’t it’s Ava’s birthday and-”

“Does he know about Ava?”

You nod.

“Do you not want to bring him around Ava yet?”

Slowly, you shrug your shoulders. You didn’t want Ava to get the wrong idea, especially now that she was growing older and wanting a father figure. Yet, you didn’t want to hide the fact that you had a daughter from Stefan.

“I can see you aren’t comfortable just yet with the idea of dating.” she says. “That doesn’t mean you and him can’t be friends, right? Hang around one another with Ava. See how he interacts with her. If he’s good with Ava, then it’s a step forward, no?”

You nod. “I suppose you’re right…”

You begin to text Stephan back, eyes glancing at your therapist for comfort.

“I said we can um, meet at a cafe.” you murmur, a hot feeling growing throughout you. You haven’t felt this way in years - since Jungkook.

“That’s good.” she smiles widely at you. “It’s good, right?”

“Yeah…I guess it is good.” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for coming back here so suddenly.”

“Please don’t apologize, Y/N.” your therapist assures. “You’re a mother and were worried for your child. Trust me, Ava and you are safe. You aren’t terrible for feeling the way you do after all you’ve been through.”

Hearing her words is encouraging. You just want Ava to be safe in the end - it’s your main goal. You loved Ava with all your heart, wanting to give her the life she deserves. She deserves a mother who wasn’t always looking over her shoulder afraid of a man who’s probably given up on her.

“Thank you.” you mumble, clenching your phone in your hand.

“Appa!”

Yuri watches as Ava runs into the man’s arm. He picks her up and holds her close. “Hey, baby.” he says softly to the little girl. “Happy birthday! Look what Appa got you.”

Jungkook is holding a small, pink bag in his hands.

“You said you’re Y/N’s-”

“Ex.” Jungkook nods his head, not liking the word a bit. “Ava’s father.”

Yuri has an uneasy feeling in her stomach as Jungkook speaks. “She told me to watch Ava-”

“I know. But I think I should be the one taking her now.” Jungkook smiles at the younger girl. “Y/N had a bit of a scare earlier.” Jungkook chuckles. “She told me to come get her.”

Yuri furrows her brows. “Really? She didn’t text-”

“Again. She’s going through something right now.” Jungkook interrupts, holding onto Ava tightly. He didn’t want to harm Yuri - not while he had his daughter. But if she was going to stick her nose in business that didn’t involve her, then he wouldn’t have a choice to.

“I guess you’re right…” Yuri trails off, recalling the way you appeared seconds away from crying. Her eyes turn to Ava - the girl finally looked happy since you left. Everything she has tried to do to get the girl to cheer up has failed. “...Happy Birthday, Ava.”

Jungkook smiles, turning to his daughter. Yuri was smart, afterall. “Thank you for taking care of her.” he says sincerely then bows to bid his farewell.

Jungkook strolls out of the apartment complex and towards his car. He opens the back seat and places Yuri inside of it, having already bought a car seat for her to sit in. He straps her in and couldn’t help but place another kiss on her forehead. “Here, baby. Happy birthday.” he says to her, handing her the pink bag with the gift inside.

Jungkook gets inside the driver seat and starts the car. Jungkook begins to drive, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to assure his daughter was okay. “Are you happy you and Appa are going for a ride?”

Ara nods, her smile has yet to falter. Inside the pink bag had been a stuffed animal - the biggest she’s ever gotten - of a bunny. She holds it close to her that Jungkook just knows that when you finally came home, he would make it his mission to buy his daughter a mountain of them.

“Appa?”

Jungkook’s hand clenches the steering wheel. He’s upset with you. Hearing his daughter call for him has a rush of emotions flowing through him - and he blames you for keeping this moment from him. How would you raise a child without a father in the home? “Yes, baby?”

“Where’s e-eomma?”

“Eomma is meeting us at home.” Jungkook says with a slight smile. He couldn’t wait to be reunited with you. “But Appa has to make a stop.”

“Stop where?”

Toddlers and their questions, Jungkook thinks. “To the lake.” he answers.

Ava is satisfied with the response for now, and Jungkook continues to drive.

Finding whoever Stefan was had been easy. He’s upset to know that the name has come up far too many times for his liking, and the months he has been following you, he’s grown to realize that the man was your co-worker - someone you had to see often.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Stefan liked you more than he should, and that would cost him his life. Surely, it would be easier to just take you, his daughter and leave - yet that wouldn’t satisfy him. Knowing that you took his daughter from him - and took away the experience of him holding his child the day she was born - he had to find a way to punish you. “You’re too nice to her.” he recalls Namjoon saying one day. “She’ll never respect you as you are.” and his hyung was correct. Now three years later here we were - all because you wanted to be selfish.

“Going swimming?” Ava’s voice sounds through his ears as Jungkook parks the car. The sun is minutes from setting, the dark hue in the sky. The clouds are forming, as well, and he’s positive that the moon will be shining bright tonight.

“Not us, no.” Jungkook removes his seatbelt.

“I come?” Ava asks as she witnesses Jungkook get out of the car.

“Of course.” Jungkook coos, opening the door to the back and removing Ava from her carseat. The bunny is held tightly in her embrace as she places her head on Jungkook's shoulders.

Jungkook goes around to the trunk and opens it. “Looks like Stefan’s awake, baby.” Jungkook cackles, his eyes darkening at the sight of the tied up man. “He was taking a little nap in the trunk.”

“Why?” Ava’s soft voice asks over the muffled screams of Stefan. He has tape around his mouth and rope around his wrist and ankles. Ava doesn’t appear to be frightened as a normal child would - but then again, she’s with her father. Jungkook would never allow any harm to come towards her.

“Must’ve been sleepy.” Jungkook shrugs. “Appa’s going to put you down, okay?”

“Oh-kay.”

Jungkook places Ava down, patting her head slightly. He then proceeds to yank Stefan out of the trunk, the man falling with a thump, along with a pocket knife that he attempted to use against Jungkook.

Jungkook goes to grab the pocket knife out of Ava’s reach, the little girl already attempting to reach for it. He places it inside his pocket and turns back to Stefan. “Let’s go.” he states, but it isn’t like the man can move. Instead, he is dragged from the muddy scenery towards the lake.

Stefan’s muffled screams get a bit louder, but not loud enough. He’s squirming against his restraints, so much so that it begins to annoy Jungkook. “Stop resisting!” he hisses, his boot kicking Stefan in the ribs. “To think you had a chance with my girl is insane.”

The wooden dock is long and narrow. It creeks underneath Jungkook’s feet as he walks all the way to the end of it.

“To think all Y/N had to do was not leave me.” Jungkook looks down at Stefan, the terrified look in his eyes comical. “Maybe then you would’ve lived to see tomorrow.”

Jungkook kicks Stefan into the lake. His body makes a splash, water wetting his boots. Jungkook turns away and makes his way back to Ava. “Such a good girl!” he cheers, scooping her into his arms. “Ready to see eomma?”

Ava nods, rubbing her eyes slightly.

"You must be tired. Let’s go home, baby.”

Your eyes stare down at the text-message in horror, your body completely stiff.

Yuri: Hey, Y/N. Just to let you know, Ava went home with her father. She looked so excited to see him. I hope you’re feeling better than before. Please try to get some rest.

Your world feels as if something crashed through you. Your throat was tightening up and tears were swelling in your eyes. Your hands trembled, nearling dropping your phone several times.

Ava’s father.

Ava didn’t have a father - not someone you agreed upon. She didn’t have someone you co-parent with.

Ava’s father.

That meant the feeling from before was true - the feeling of being stared at.

Jungkook was back.

Jungkook had found you.

Jungkook knows about Ava - he has Ava.

Your hands tremble as you go through a message thread you hadn’t opened in years - even after multiple number changes.

You swallow the thick lump in your throat as you press call, bringing it to your ear.

It only rings once.

“About time you called.”

Hearing Jungkook’s voice after all these years causes the hair on your body to rise. It brings back memories you want to suppress.

“Is Ava okay?”

“What type of question is that?” Jungkook hisses. He’s driving, you note, you can hear cars in the background. “I would never hurt our daughter.”

Our daughter.

Your blood runs cold.

“Please, Jungkook.” your voice cracks as you begin to cry, no longer caring. You just wanted Ava safe, and as of right now, she wasn’t. Not with Jungkook - anyone but him.

“Aww, don’t cry, my love.” Jungkook’s taunting you. “I’ll see you at home.”

The line goes out before you can speak.

Your home wasn’t far, only a few blocks away. But you’re sprinting there, pushing past anyone in your way. Your chest is heaving and your appearance was anything but presentable.

There’s a car outside your home that you don’t recognize. It sits right outside of it - a sign that Jungkook was here.

“Ava’s asleep.” Jungkook says as you barge into the home. He’s seated in your livingroom, Ava in his arms. She’s asleep, clutching a stuffed animal you haven’t seen before. “Why are you looking at her like that? I said I’d never hurt her.”

You swallow. “I-I know.” you murmur. You don’t want to upset Jungkook. You’re positive that he’s already pissed having found not only you, but his child. “C-Can I…um…let’s put her to bed.”

Jungkook watches you for a moment, but nods. He follows you down the hall and towards a small room. A few toys are sprawled out on the floor. He places her in her bed and lifts the covers. “My pretty baby…” he murmurs, kissing her cheek. “So beautiful.”

The sight would warm your heart if it wasn’t Jungkook.

“I usually turn this on.” you murmur towards her desk. It’s a small humidifier that you flick on. It makes a noise as it works, a white noise that keeps Ava sleep during some nights.

“Come.” Jungkook turns away from you. “We need to talk.”

The door to Ava’s bedroom closes behind you. You usually don’t close her door at all - she didn’t prefer to be left in the dark. However, you wanted her far from you and Jungkook’s conversation.

Jungkook walks in your home as if he’s familiar with it, opening the door to your bedroom and flickering on the light. You no longer fight with your mind, contemplating if you were delusional or not.

Jungkook had been watching you - you’re sure of it. How long, you’re unsure. But you’re positive that he has. Ava is a sweet girl and far too trusting for your own liking, but you didn’t want to corrupt her mind when it came to meeting new people - and now you blame yourself. She had asked for her father because Jungkook had made himself present to her before…

Your heart aches at the revelation that you weren’t safe, and haven’t been for years.

“I thought about what I’d do when I saw you.” Jungkook begins just as you close the door to your bedroom. “When you first left, I’d admit I was angry.”

Jungkook looks nearly the same as he did 3 years prior - he added a few piercings and you’re positive he added more tattoos underneath his clothing. His eyes are the same, piercing right through you like they had many times before.

“I never thought about hurting you more than I did the moment I found you.” The silence after Jungkook’s words is loud and deafening. You contemplated if you’d be able to get out the room and run down the hall to Ava’s for an escape, but you know he wouldn’t allow it.

“You took my daughter away from me, Y/N. What have I done to you to deserve that?” Jungkook’s voice raises just a bit and you flinch when he steps closer to you. “You hate me that much? Was I not the one funding your lifestyle?”

“I didn’t ask you to.” you retort quietly - regretting it just as quickly as you said it.

Jungkook scoffs. “I didn’t have to?” he says. “You were my girl. I gave you everything you wanted and more. Then you send a restraining order and leave with my-”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant!” you hiss. But even that wouldn’t have made you return to Jungkook.

“Your excuses aren’t good enough for me, Y/N.”

You yelp when Jungkook lunges at you. He flings you around, hands digging into your skin. You and he stumble a bit until he shoves you away. Your face is planted into your mattress, him pressed firmly against you.

Jungkook presses his nose into your hair and inhales deeply. He shudders. “You still smell the same.” he murmurs, his hips rocking against you.

You’re frightened to your core, unsure what in the world you’re supposed to say or do in this situation. You couldn’t think of just yourself anymore - Ava was just in the other room. You couldn’t trust Jungkook completely to not harm her if it meant hurting you.

“Why don’t you love me?”

Jungkook’s mood changes quickly, he leans back to yank your hair. You fight back a scream at how hard he tugs. You’re pressed firmly against his back, his nose against the nape of your neck.

“No answer…?” Jungkook hums against your neck. His hands let go of your hair, trailing to your shoulders. “...Did you love Stefan?”

You gulp, your breathing so loud that it echoes off of your walls.

How did he know about Stefan?

Your heart thumps with anticipation for Jungkook to continue.

“I hope you didn’t. He’s dead.”

Jungkook’s right hand grips your neck, a yelp releasing from your throat. You struggle to get away from his grasp, but Jungkook wasn’t going to allow it. He wasn’t going to allow you to leave him again - especially not with his daughter.

“I’m tired of being nice to you, Y/N. You don’t like me being nice.” Jungkook squeezes your neck a bit harder, you grunts only fueling the erection in his pants. “I had to kill a man to make sure you know that I’m serious. Here,”

Jungkook is quick to remove his phone from his pocket and go through his photos. Your eyes widen at the picture of Stefan, bound and gagged in what appeared to be the trunk of a car.

Your stomach feels sick and you snap your head away to get the image out of your head. You can feel the tears lining your eyes.

“You killed him, Y/N. I wouldn’t have done anything if you didn’t leave with my daughter.” Jungkook pushes you away from him, releasing your neck. You fall against the mattress roughly, but you don’t have the strength in you to fight anymore.

“Why are you crying?” Jungkook snickers. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You want me to treat you like this, so I am.”

You’re flipped over once more, your back hitting your mattress. Your tears blur your vision of Jungkook, and it pains him to see how terrified you were of him - but this is what you wanted. You didn’t want the nice, protective boyfriend he was trying to be.

“I gave you everything, Y/N. And you left me.” Jungkook’s tugging at your shirt so roughly that you aren’t surprised it rips. Your room is cold, colder than it’s ever been. “You forced me to find you here with my daughter. You’re struggling, barely able to afford anything. The cherry on top was you agreeing to meet that man…” Jungkook shakes his head, rage bubbling up through him again. “You were going to have that man around my daughter, Y/N. How selfish can you be?”

Your bra comes off next, and Jungkook takes a deep breath. How he missed you beneath him, your sweet moans dancing in his ears. His hands grip your breast entirely, his thumbs rubbing along your erect nipples.

“I think you like the way I’m touching you now.” Jungkook murmurs. “Is this what it was, Y/N? You wanted me to be a little rough?”

You shake your head, sobs spilling out of your lips.

“Then what was it? Why did you leave me?” Jungkook’s thumb continues to rub circles on your nipples. “You took away our daughter. I didn’t have the chance to see her first steps because you want to be selfish.”

Jungkook pinches and pulls at your nipples, but you only liked that. Jungkook knows your body - even after all these years.

Jungkook’s hard, you note. You can feel it twitching against your clothed heat. Your eyes blink away the tears, throat so tight that you’re unsure if you could truly speak. “Are…are you going to hurt me?”

Jungkook tilts his head, eyes looking at your weeping figure. So fragile - so hopeless.

Jungkook has witnessed your walls begin to crumble down. Any resistance you had was tumbling right before him. You weren’t going to fight him anymore - the sooner you realized that it was pointless, the sooner he could treat you how he wants to and not how he has to.

“I want to.” Jungkook admits. “I want to hurt you and show you how bad you’ve hurt me all these years. But I love you.”

You want to laugh - because this couldn't be love. This isn’t what you want Ava to grow up and endure.

“I love you so much, Y/N, that I can’t bear hurting you. But if I have to live with hating myself, I will.”

Jungkook’s right hand dips down slowly, as if taunting you to react. It goes beneath your pants to touch between your legs.

“If I have to hurt you to make sure you never leave me again…” Jungkook’s finger twirls around your clit, satisfied with how wet it was for him. “...I will, Y/N.”

You’re stiff, even when Jungkook removes his fingers and plop them inside his mouth. His eyes flutter, a deep groan coming from his throat. “How I missed the way you taste, my love.”

Your heart races - as does your mind.

You’re powerless.

Jungkook was not going to let you go - not without hurting you. You didn’t know how far hurting you went, but you didn’t want to find out.

You begin to cry harder, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Please don’t h-hurt Ava.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I’ll never hurt her!” he hisses. “Stop crying, Y/N. I want to give our daughter the life she deserves. With a mother and father.” he coos, going to wipe your falling tears. “Ava deserves to be in the best schools money can offer. I can offer. Would you really deny her an amazing life just because you want to be selfish?”

Jungkook’s words sting.

You wanted Ava to have an amazing life - she was your main priority. You couldn’t afford the best schools or luxuries like Jungkook could, and the thought has your heart breaking.

“Doesn’t Ava deserve to have two parents who love her?” Jungkook asks. “Or would you rather her grow up thinking her father left her? Are you going to tell her you didn’t allow me to father her? That you took the first man that’s going to love her away?”

Jungkook knew what to say to hurt you - to get you to submit to him fully. He was going to use Ava to his advantage - if that is what it took to have you and her back in his life. He didn’t want to hold you hostage. He wanted you to come to him willingly and be the family he knows you and he could be; for his daughter.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Jungkook’s face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin. “Don’t you want us to be a family? For Ava’s sake?”

You swallow.

You wanted Ava safe. You wanted her to have a good life - the life any child deserves.

Your mind is screaming at you to fight Jungkook off - to take Ava and leave.

But where would you go? You couldn’t stay here and you could only run so far until Jungkook found you. You were tired of living your life in fear - constantly looking over your shoulder for Jungkook to come and take you away.

So, you had to make your own decision. You had to choose Ava over you.

Jungkook is surprised when he feels your lips on his so suddenly, but he doesn’t dwell. He melts into your lips, arms wrapping firmly around you.

“My good girl…” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “...I knew you’d choose the right choice.”

You want to laugh - you didn’t have a choice. It was either go with Jungkook willingly or against your will.

Your legs wrap around Jungkook and he allows you to flip him. Jungkook watches you with wide eyes.

You had to do this, you think. You had to do this for your safety and for the AVa’s future. Maybe if you didn’t give in to Stockholm Syndrome, then maybe when Ava’s away at college you’d be able to escape.

You want to laugh at your unfortunate circumstance.

“Do you promise Ava will be okay?”

Jungkook’s eyes soften at your tone. He nods his head. “You have my word. You and Ava will be okay.”

You weren’t convinced about yourself, but as long as Ava was, then you wouldn’t care about the life you live alongside him.

“Okay.” you murmur. “The humidifier sometimes keeps her asleep. Not all the time.”

Jungkook nods his head.

“Sometimes she’ll wake up because she wants to sleep with me.” you swallow. “We have about another half an hour before she might.”

Jungkook’s ear perks, and he nods rapidly.

You lift yourself from him, going to kick off your pants and underwear. You haven’t been with Jungkook (or any many) in so long, that you feel betrayed by yourself for being wet.

Jungkook wants to take his time with you - to run his tongue all over your body like he used to. To pleasure you until you’re cumming against his tongue.

But, there wasn’t any time now. And that was okay - because you are his now. Forever. What he couldn’t do now, he’d do next time.

Jungkook kicks off his own pants and underwear, revealing how excited he was to have you once more.

You swallow, getting onto your bed. You don’t want to face Jungkook - not now at least, pressing your face against the mattress and arching your back.

“It’ll get better, my love.” Jungkook murmurs, pressing himself again you. His lips are against your shoulder, peppering you with soft kisses. “If you’ll allow me to love you the way I want to, it’ll be good.”

You nod your head sullenly.

You’re wetter than Jungkook expects. He rubs his tip against your clit and between your folds to lube himself up. He gulps as he inches closer to your entrance. “So tight…” he says to himself, inching himself closer and closer until he’s in fully. “...all for me.”

Your hands grip your bedsheets, the feeling of a cock in you becoming foreign with time.

Jungkook begins to thrust, slow at first until your wetness completely engulfs him. Then, he picks up the pace. Hands gripping your waist to completely hold you into place, his eyes stuck on the way your pussy takes him so good - just how he remembers it.

You’re sure your clenching around him only fuels Jungkook to go harder, but your body is working against you. You don’t want it to feel good - you hated Jungkook. You hated the way he forced himself back into your life and gave you an ultimatum. He was a monster, admitting to killing an innocent man just because you left him.

But your body loved Jungkook - always had. His cock pumps inside of you with such need, never getting tired. You can feel your juices pooling out of you and onto your thighs, and even your moans are becoming hard to be suppressed.

You hated Jeon Jungkook with a passion; this is the man that got you fired from your job and turned your life upside down. The same man that admitting to wanting to hurt you for the pain that ‘you’ caused him.

But you loved the way Jeon Jungkook fucks with with such passion; such love. His right hand presses itself against your clit, rubbing with need. His lips are pressed loving kisses against your back.

Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, never wanting to be let go. Your legs widen to have even more of him, and Jungkook gives you exactly what you’re asking for. The pleasure is so good that you no longer hide your moans as they’re growing higher and higher by the second.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Jungkook grunts, his grinding never stopping. He was so deep, hitting places that hadn't been touched in years. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise to be better…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Don’t believe him, your brain tells you. Jungkook’s lying. He wasn’t sorry in the slightest - he would hurt you again and again if you didn't bend to his every will.

But your heart crumbles at Jungkook’s words. You once loved Jeon Jungkook, and maybe there’s somewhere in you that always will. Everytime you looked at Ava, you saw her father. Those doe eyes looking up at you each day are the ones belonging to the monster that was Jungkook.

Your heart thumps at Jungkook’s words because you want to believe them - believe that he would never hurt you or cause you such pain; but your brain doesn’t want you to lead with your heart.

“I love you, baby. You know that.” Jungkook grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy. If he could fuck you like this for hours, he would. Years he’s been without you could that a half an hour could not satiate him.

Jungkook lifts you from the bed. He presses you against him, continuing to pound into you. His left hand forces your head to turn to look at him. “I love you, Y/N. Everything I did has been for you.”

“I…I know…” you moan.

You were weak - and soon you’d regret your actions and not fighting back against Jungkook.

But you missed Jungkook - you missed the kind Jungkook. The soft Jungkook who held you at night and would listen to you talk about any and everything for hours.

Maybe that Jungkook could come back, you think. As long as you didn’t do anything to upset him and accept the fate that was bestowed upon you.

“Say you love me back, baby.” Jungkook pleads. He needs to hear it - he hasn’t in so long.

Jungkook’s right hand continues to rub aggressively on your clit, his mouth on yours. His tongue suckles on yours for dominance - dominance he already had against you.

“What’s the worst that can happen after all these years?” your therapist's voice rings through your mind.

The ironic - a part of you feel like the universe is playing a game on you.

“I love you, too.” you say against Jungkook’s tongue, feeling your high reaching. You’re so wet that you can hear the disgusting squelching sounds of your pussy, completely satisfied that it’s getting stuffed.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grumbles, pumping into even harder. “fuck, fuck, I love you, too baby. So much.”

Jungkook lets you go to fall back onto your mattress, a twitching mess as your high was riding down. He pounds into you a few more times, the sound of skin slapping and pants echoing off the walls until he cums inside of you, completely painting your walls with his seed.

Jungkook doesn’t remove himself until he’s soft, having no more cum left to give you. He kisses your back softly, wrapping his arms around your limp body. “I’m so happy you’re coming back to me, baby. Now we can be a family. You, me and Ava.”

“What’s the worst that can happen after all these years?”

#one way or another #jungkook x reader #jungkook yandere #yandere jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #yandere bts #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #bts yandere #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #explicit-tae

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queerly-autistic · 2 months

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One of my favourite things about S2 was that we got to see so much in terms of Ed's relationships with women, and it just made me love him even more (if that's humanly possible). We didn't see him interact with many women at all in S1 (I think it was only the posh ladies at the fancy party which was...yeah, not a good experience), so S2 actually giving us a glimpse into his friendships with all these (very different) kickass women was so, so special.

I love that, as messy and fucked up as they all are, and even with the 'well we're pirates, we're not normal and we will fuck with each other' threat that hangs over everything, Ed's relationship with Mary and Anne is still so affectionate, and they both thrown their arms around him the moment they see him. Even though Ed is incredibly tactile, I don't think we've actually ever seen him be hugged like this, and it's just so lovely to watch him be embraced and clearly feel very safe being embraced by these women (and I can't with the way he clings to them, as well). I also love that this is a wlw/mlm friendship; yeah it falls apart later and turns into delicious gay-on-gay violence (and I wouldn't alter a note of it), but I love seeing this sort of affection between queer women and queer men, there's not nearly enough of it.

Don't even get me started on the BFF handshake he has with Anne - I want all the history there, give me six spin-off films about their adventures please.

And then we finally get a glimpse of his relationship with Jackie, which is similarly just lovely, but in a different way? You get the sense that they could sit there for hours, talking shit about the world, all whilst casually ripping the shit out of each other (but affectionately). You also know full well these two have talked extensively about men and know pretty much everything about each other's sex lives - we didn't see it, but I'm absolutely certain that Ed went into full gushing details about sleeping with Stede, just like Jackie did when she talked about The Swede fucking like a jackhammer (historical accuracy ftw).

And, again, whilst they're still pirates, and it's messy, the entire thing feels incredibly...safe, particularly from Ed's perspective? He feels more comfortable around Jackie than he is around most other characters (apart from Stede), just like he was with Anne and Mary.

And then, just to hammer the point home even further that Ed has, generally, fantastic relationships with women, and connects with them, and feels relaxed and safe with them, you have Ed and Zheng becoming instant BFFs literally minutes after meeting each other. Ed goes 'ooh, very cool woman kicking ass and killing people, she shall be my best friend, immediately', and Zheng is automatically incredibly relaxed and open with him, too (suggesting she feels as safe and comfortable with him as he does with her).

All I want in life is to see Ed and Zheng get silly-drunk with each other (and this is why we urgently need a S3).

And none of Ed's relationships with these women are a fetishistic 'I love women because they're fabulous' thing, or an overly patronising paternalistic 'I love the women and I must protect them' thing - all the relationships he has with women are very equal, very comfortable, fully believable, just fantastic friendships to watch play out. I feel like, given everything we see on screen, Ed generally feels a lot more comfortable and safe and open with the women he knows than the men he knows (Stede is the only other person he is this physically affectionate and comfortable with). Which is probably very understandable? Yes, the women he's friends with are all violent pirates too (that's part of the joy of it - none of them are lovely demure morally pure women, they're all violent pirates), but Ed has a lot of experience with specifically overtly abusive men - right back to watching his dad abuse his mum. And that's a distinction that matters: the show treats the violence of normal piracy and the violence of abuse very, very differently. Ed is not used to being treated softly or affectionately by men, as we saw in his shocked reaction to Stede holding his hand. I don't think it's any wonder that he gravitates more towards friendships with women (or that the men he feels the most open and safe with, such as Stede, Fang, even Frenchie, are very pointedly the opposite of the abusive men he has experience with). I just love love love that being friends with women is such a core part of Ed's character, and that we got to see all of these fantastic relationships in the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #anne bonny ofmd #mary read ofmd #spanish jackie #zheng yi sao ofmd #ofmd s2 ep4 #episode: fun and games #ofmd s2 ep7 #episode: man on fire #ofmd s2 ep8 #episode: mermen #ed x stede #blackbonnet #ofmd meta #erin waffles

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soryualeksi · 2 years

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Watching Big Kiddo, who is 4,5 now, grow up is so amazing. I don't know, I guess I also made some false assumptions, but I always expected 4-year-olds to be... more like toddlers, still. And they're not the least bit. Like. I thought they'd be A LITTLE like toddlers and there is. ZERO toddler. There's just "This is a very short pre-schooler (and they're already pretty short)."

It's great.

#also the absolute joy of your kid being neurodivergent like you #big kiddo has discovered numbers and there's no holding him back anymore #we will probably start teaching him the alphabet now #he writes his name and a few things so he might as well learn the full thing and he's suuuuuuper into it and it's just so amazing #he's like a little vampire everything has to be counted and every number read out loud it's so funny #he's standing there staring and I'm like what is he doing oh he's counting the fence posts lmao #he's perfect #he's also the kindest most considerate little guy i could dream of #he's like a natural problem solver when he sees a problem he tries to think up a solution #his solutions are still somewhat out there at times but that's him lacking life experience lmao #did i talk about the time he wanted a cat and he explained to me his plan to get a flashlight and find one at night #'cats are nocturnal. they have big and sensitive eyes to see even in the dark. so. we wait until night. then we take a flashlight #I'm like 'sweetie do you think we can CATCH a cat at night'#he thought this is how you acquire pet cats lmao #sadly we really can't keep cats right now lol #but his plan was great #'cats are nocturnal. they have big and sensitive eyes'#so funny #this is an ode to my perfect son #parenting stuff #kid stuff #soryuchan's personal issues

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cryptidcasanova · 1 year

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The Depths You’ll Go

Namor x Reader

This is a big ol’ fever dream. It’s been a while since I felt this way about a Marvel character.

Summary: The price of protecting a an advanced civilization from the rest of the world is high, but the rewards? Priceless.

Warnings: 18+ Content. Angst, cannon level violence, mutual pining. Namor is overwhelmingly protective. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

Words: 2.5k

Dividers by the stunning @firefly-graphics.

You had to keep moving.

You were close to the water; you could feel it deep in your bones.

The little boy in your arms must have felt the saltwater lingering in the air. He was frantic, twisting in your hold as you rushed through the corridor.

His blue skin was pale, and he was trying to breathe in the air you knew wouldn't sustain him.

"Just a little longer," You cradled him close, whispering reassurances in his hair. "I'm getting you out of here."

But you were biting back tears.

You never expected to be followed home by the young Talokan boy. He was so little and curious and full of love. He had hardly left your side while you watched Namor teach a sparring session. How he trained, moved, and spoke with his people made your heart swell.

And you didn't expect the raid on your home soon after you returned to the beach. You didn't stand a chance against the swat team busting down your door. The boy was the most important thing. You weren't going to let anything happen to him.

Shuri warned you to be careful. The agencies have kept an eye on you since you left Wakanda.

It was everything Namor feared. All he wanted to do was protect his people; you were the reason they were in danger.

Oh, Namor.

Your stomach ached. You wanted to scream and call out for help, but the best thing you could do was sneak around the guards and get the boy back to the water. The boy. The adored one.

Taavi.

You treasured him more than you thought possible. He was strong and curious in the water but bashful and wide-eyed above ground.

Dark hair fell against his cheeks, and his eyes drooped as you turned a corner. You cradled him close.

But you were running out of time.

And then, when you finally kicked open the metal door at the end of the hall, you cried out with joy.

You were close to the water. Closer than you thought.

It was a sheer drop from the cliffside base into the Atlantic, and it was only then you heard the clinking of footsteps not far behind you. The guards found you.

The boy pushed out of your arms just in time and dove into the brink as the guards pulled you back. You should have jumped. And then you watched the little boy poking his head out of the water and staring up at you with a fearful expression. He didn't know what was happening.

You cried out when the guards pointed their guns at the top of the water.

"Taavi, go. Get out of here!"

You were wrestled back into the base, frantically throwing your body toward the water. You weren't even sure if you could make the dive. But before you could slip out of their grip, something hit you hard in the back of your head.

And everything went dark.

Your cell turned into an interrogation room.

The soldiers wanted to know about the little blue boy, that thing. They didn’t even treat him like a child, but an experiment. They wanted to know what was in the water. About the vibranium.

Interrogation turned from fear tactics to torture. And you were no soldier.

You were trained in the sciences, to know biology, to understand life and nature. That's why Banner recommended you go to Wakanda in the first place.

And with Talokan? You still had so much to learn. Their livelihoods and families were on the line. Hundreds of years of culture were preserved.

And you cared about them.

You weren't going to betray their trust. That is, if Namor didn't think you already had.

His fatalist streak made you fear the worst. He was fiercely protective of his people, and the way he was around the children? Patient and compassionate. Taavi's disappearance must have caused an uproar.

You hoped he would be merciful.

Time passed. Days passed.

You thought you would rot in that jail cell, battered and bruised, until you just drifted away one day. That they'd forget about you until it was too late. Until you were lost to the wind.

And one day, the guards were given new orders.

They all knew something was in the water. But didn't know what to look for, and they never did catch that little boy.

If he could make his way out of their surveyed waters, the people in power were convinced something could find its way back in.

All they needed was some new bait.

There must have been a reason why the boy was with you. You were their best bet for finding out why.

The soldiers changed. At first, it was the Americans, then the French, and the Germans, and then you couldn't tell after a while.

The thought of all the surface countries working together made your head spin.

They waited until the tide was at its lowest. That's when they drug you out of the cell by your arms, until you were too tired to fight back.

You were too tired to think. It felt hopeless. You were taken to a different side of the base, where paths of rocks were cut out down to the water.

And then you saw the chains.

The guards attached arm restraints to the rocky walls, where the water kissed the land. One look at the guards was all it took, and then you knew. They wanted their intel.

They wanted to know about Talokan, and they weren't above drowning a scientist to get it.

"Last chance, sweetheart," One of the men said, all dressed up to fight off the chill in the air. He was different from the others; you'd never seen him before. He must have been the man in charge.

Your stomach roiled in frustration.

He sauntered up to you, pulling your chin up with a firm grip. You hated his clever expression and bad breath.

"We just want to know about your little blue friend," He tormented, looking out to the water. "It's a little cold for a swim, don't you think?"

Your chest ached. But you had come so far; you couldn't hand them over. Namor would never give up like this.

You choked on a cry before taking a breath of sea air.

"He's in New York.”

The man turned around. You caught his attention.

"Come again?" He smirked, urging you to continue. The others were looking now, waiting for an answer.

"New York," You repeated tiredly. "But he turns green once in a while, not blue. Maybe you should get your eyes checked-"

You were kicked down to your knees without compunction.

"You think you're real funny, eh?” He scoffed. “String her up."

Your fate was sealed. You were gagged and bound like a worm on a hook and couldn't go crying out for help.

And then they dragged you into the water.

The cold plunge made your teeth chatter, but there was no time to consider it. Your arms were strung against the rocky walls on either side of your shoulders. Your legs were bound and weighed down. The saltwater only came up to your waist, but you knew it wouldn't last.

You rested your head against the wall in defeat.

And at last, you understood Namor's resentment. It pierced through years of you trying to help people and fight for the right causes.

At the end of the day, people in power wanted to keep their knowledge, power, and strengths. They wanted it all for themselves.

The water spray against the rocks gave you an excuse to cry, to mourn the life you couldn't live.

You should have told Namor the truth. You stayed in Talokan to learn, but it was more than that. As time went on, your trips into the sea lost focus. You were enamored by the Talokan people and how their lives were completely untouched by the outside world.

They were considerate and humble. They cared for one another.

Namor cared for them, for all of them. His icy demeanor was an act. He could talk strategy with his advisors and turn around to celebrate a new baby in their city. He could help by collecting food and scouting the perimeter of their sanctuary. It was no wonder why people worshipped him.

And his animosity towards outsiders didn't touch you. As much as he resented the world above, it was as though he wanted to show just how far they had come. They were a prosperous and independent nation. Completely indigenous. It was breathtaking.

It was hard not to swoon over him. You should have told Namor how you felt sooner.

Shuri could see it. M'Baku could see it. Hell, you were sure Namora could tell how you felt for their leader. But you could keep them safe.

They were the best warriors you had ever seen, and now it was your turn to protect them.

When the water cupped around your shoulders, you were pulled away from your thoughts. It was much colder than you thought. Your arms were shaking, and your fingers were numb.

The water was ruthless against the scrapes and cuts along your body. The weight was doing its job. It was keeping you from being buoyant. You swore you could feel something against your legs and panicked, pulling yourself up as best you could.

But the next wave came at you fast, making you choke on the gag in your mouth. You were running out of time.

The soldiers were looking out over the water with their guns ready, waiting for the call.

They were waiting to find something in the water. But the night was quiet.

In the last attempt to rectify yourself, you begged for his forgiveness. Namor let you into his home and world, and you almost ruined it. Your heart was hammering as the wave receded, and your pleas were lost behind your water-soaked gag.

You'd never see him again. You'd never hear the low timber of his words or see the passion in his eyes. Your eyes were squeezed shut.

Your heart was breaking and you couldn't stop it.

K’uk’ulkan

The water was rising, but all you could see was his profile. You could remember the curve of his nose and how his eyebrows moved when he told a story.

K’uk’ulkan

Another wave hit hard, and you choked on the icy water. But you could still see Namor guiding you through his sanctuary, pointing to the paintings on the walls.

K’uk’ulkan

The next wave didn't recede as far as you hoped. Another wave struck you, but you could still see him. You could smell the salt on his skin and hear how his necklaces moved when he walked. You could almost hear his voice.

He was - the bubble burst.

You couldn't breathe.

Your body was on auto pilot, thrashing and kicking wildly. Your body was fighting off the water that burned in your chest. It surrounded you in a coccon, murky and frothing against the rocks.

But you weren't as alone as you thought.

You couldn't feel the little grouping of octopuses at your feet trying to find a way to undo your chains.

You couldn't hear the soft singing above the water, urging soldiers into the brine.

And Namor - you couldn't see the carnage.

You couldn't see the rage and anguish on his face as he barreled through the base. Their water explosives shook the ground. You couldn't have known he was scouring the ocean for you.

Taavi made it home because of you.

You protected the little boy like he was your own, no matter the cost, and Namor couldn't see past it. You put your life on the line for them. It was his turn to serve you.

His chest ached with some long-lost realization, something he never dared to put into words but was forced to face. His heart beat a little faster when you were around. His focus swayed. He cared about you most ardently.

You were his to protect.

After all the time he had to dance around it, humbly flaunting his world to an outsider, Namor finally understood. The moment he let you see his world, he knew; he would protect you.

The way he flew into the water and pulled the chains away from the rock was terrifying.

His blood boiled as your hands fell limp into the water. He tugged the gag away from your face and cradled you above the water’s surface.

But you weren't breathing.

There was too much water in your lungs. Your heartbeat was faint, straining against your ribcage.

In a moment of hesitation, Namor pulled you from the water and up the rocky shore. The singing stopped. The chaos stopped.

And all eyes were on K'uk'ulkan.

The sea was claiming you for itself, but Namor wasn't going to give you up so easily. His expression welled with power, even when his jaw locked with uncertainty.

He needed to get the water out of your lungs. You needed air.

His hand spread over your heart before pressing down, the ridges of his palm digging into your skin. A command left his lips that was sharper than any blade.

"You cannot have her."

He began chanting in his native tongue, commanding the seas.

"Her heart beats for my people. It beats for me," He realized. "You cannot have her."

A rush of wind swept through the sky. And the sea, fearful of his wrath, receded from the shore.

His other hand cupped your face, leaning in with intention. He had never been so close, but it made perfect sense now. It felt important, felt right.

There was another way.

His eyes lit up. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was met with lifetimes of bottled-up affection. Slow and intentional, he poured out his power. It was his breath, a kiss from a god.

The unspoken command broke the spell.

When Namor pulled back, your body lurched up with a frightful cough.

The sting of saltwater burned in your throat. Your hands were clammy, reaching out to hold on tight. Your chest ached, and your eyes burned as you tried to move. It was disorienting.

And then you heard it; the lull of your voice being called out, followed by a string of native words you couldn't understand.

Then you felt it; a strong hand covering yours, warmer and firmer than your own. He wasn't going to let you go.

And you saw it, saw him. Namor looked down at you like you could have hung all the stars in the sky. He was careful, like you could break under his stare.

But he brushed the tears out of your eyes. You didn't even realize you were crying.

Namor.

He had more love in his heart than anyone gave him credit for. He deserved the world.

And when he pulled you up into his arms, you held on tight.

Namor wanted to burn the world down. He wanted to fight, but for a moment it was stolen by the way you called his name. It was the sweetest sound he ever heard.

He wasn't going to let anything else happen to you. Because while your heart beat for his people, his heart was beating for you.

#namor imagine #namor x reader #k'uk'ulkan #namor x y/n #k'uk'ulkan x reader

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mooshywrites · 2 months

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What they’d be like as a dad

Bg3 men and fatherhood

Masterlist

Art Commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion ~

~ Astarion wasn’t sure he wanted to be a father at first

~ After all, kids require a lot of attention and affection, things he was still learning to give

~ So when he realized he was going to be a father, he was a nervous wreck for a while

~ Everything changed when he held his pale little bundle of blanket

~ After that, he was almost obsessive

~ His favorite was the toddler phase, he loved walking around and seeing your little one see discover everything in the world for the first time

~ He was a little too indulgent, though he’d never admit it. There was nothing his baby could point to that he’d say no to

~ Even if he had to steal it

~ In the evenings, you’d find him sitting in front of the fireplace, snuggled close with the baby

~ “I want to give you everything I never had and more”

Wyll ~

~ Wyll was excited to be a dad and was very present through the whole process

~ He worked a lot, but made sure to spend as much time as possible with his kid

~ Even when he wasn’t home, he talked about the baby all the time

~ He told everyone who would listen everything new the kid had learned, proudly boasting about their accomplishments

~ His favorite part of the day was coming home from a long day as the Duke, being tackled by their clingy kid

~ He’d laugh and clean up, sitting with them to patiently hear about their day

~ He always brought home gifts for you both, little snacks or a new toy that had caught his eye

~ He was the perfect playmate, he loved making wooden swords and props to pretend

~ At dinner time, he made sure everyone got a full plate before he fixed one himself

~ Then he’d ask around the table, making sure to give his child undivided attention

~ “The highest honor I could ever receive is being called your father”

Halsin ~

~ Halsin was made to be a dad and wanted a big family

~ In the end, he had a mixed herd of orphans he’d adopted, kids he’d fathered, and a few mystery cases

~ It didn’t matter if they were blood or not, he loved them all the same

~ Halsin’s a very patient dad, he loved to teach the kids everything he knew about the world

~ He memorized each of their favorite fruits, making sure to stop and gather them often

~ He loved when the herd gathered around him and begged him to turn into a bear, using him as a giant furry jungle gym

~ Those days usually ended in a big sleeping pile, all the kids snuggled into his soft fur

~ His kids were his entire world, and he knew each of their personalities well

~ It wasn’t rare at all for each kid to have a collection of whittled toys, each personalized to them

~ “Guiding you through life is my greatest joy and my deepest pride”

Gale ~

~ Gale was nervous, but excited to be a dad

~ Tara was absolutely exasperated by the amount of questions he asked her, saying she was too old to remember how to raise a Dekarios

~ So he started researching instead

~ The two of you could have built an entire nursery with the parenting books he bought

~ He relaxed quite a bit after the baby was born, falling into fatherhood in a beautifully natural way

~ He loved sitting with your child and entertaining them, spending hours casting little spells

~ He made sure the baby never felt lonely, helping them sneak in all sorts of creatures

~ He loved when the kids hit school age and took interest in all of their hobbies

~ The house was an absolute mess of crafts and experiments, Gale never said no to exploring a theory

~ He was always a safe place for your kid to go to, he had the best listening ear and advice

~ “There isn’t enough time in the world for me to tell you how proud I am of you”

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.

“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.

“What is it, B?”

“Drills. Again.”

Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.

It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.

Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.

Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of

“B.”

“Hm.”

Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.

“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.

“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.

“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”

“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.

The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.

“You have a direct line to Gotham?”

Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”

A beat of silence.

Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.

“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Hm.”

“That means you’re done, too.”

“I’m not tired.”

Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.

“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”

Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.

Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.

He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.

“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”

“Not necessary.”

“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.

“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”

Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.

“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”

And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.

——

“Go home.”

Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.

“Sleep, before I make you.”

Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.

As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”

He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.

Alfred snapped a quick picture.

#Tim Drake #Tim Drake as Robin #dc x dp #batman #danny phantom #danny phantom is tim drake #danny phantom is a little shit #sassy danny #Bruce Wayne #bruce wayne getting bullied into self care #depressed Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Gotham!Danny #danny is a menace #the cave has a shower #Bruce is using the hosing down station #like the ones in labs #for safety? but Bruce is using it because it’s a quick rinse

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chelseeebe · 3 months

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everything has changed

you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.

i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition

18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe

‎♡‧₊˚

“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.

“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”

steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.

life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.

it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.

you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.

and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.

steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.

he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.

“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.

he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.

“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.

“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.

robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.

they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.

steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.

she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.

“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.

she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.

robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.

it’s you.

the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.

“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.

“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.

you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.

you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.

“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.

“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.

“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.

“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.

“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.

“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.

he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.

your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.

plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.

steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.

he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”

he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.

you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”

steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.

“no!” they chime in unison.

“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.

“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.

“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.

he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.

“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.

you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.

there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.

especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.

he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.

and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.

fuck.

steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.

you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.

“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.

you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.

“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.

it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.

“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.

“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.

you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”

he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.

“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.

“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.

“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.

“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”

you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.

“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.

his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.

“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.

“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.

you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.

as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.

“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.

that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.

“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.

“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.

he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.

you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.

“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.

“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.

you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.

the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.

katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.

“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.

katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.

“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?

he can’t decide.

“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.

he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.

“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.

“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.

they really don’t.

in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.

the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.

everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.

steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.

“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.

“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.

“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.

sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.

like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.

“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.

“of course,” returning the smile.

he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.

it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.

she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?

“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.

you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.

“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.

“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.

you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.

that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.

“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.

you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.

there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.

“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.

“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.

you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.

except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.

you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.

“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.

steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”

“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.

“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.

“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.

he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”

the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.

“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.

“absolutely.”

there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.

you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.

maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.

“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.

there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.

steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.

“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.

“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.

“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.

you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.

its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.

“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”

he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.

he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.

studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.

you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.

two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.

you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.

steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.

he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.

he’s not sure it ever will again.

fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.

he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.

katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.

it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.

steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.

she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.

it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.

nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.

“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.

“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”

katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.

“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.

“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?

unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.

“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.

he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.

“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”

steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?

he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.

there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.

at least now.

steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.

“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.

“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”

“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”

“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.

“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”

“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”

steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.

“..yeah.”

“well there you go!” she shrieks.

“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.

“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.

“well it felt right.”

the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”

“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”

she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”

he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?

“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.

“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.

he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.

his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.

it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.

steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.

no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.

you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.

there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.

they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.

but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.

“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.

“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.

“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.

he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.

steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.

you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.

he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.

your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.

“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.

he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.

his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.

in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.

there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.

“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.

steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.

you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.

he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.

a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.

he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.

she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.

steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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