#I don’t think I’m making any sense but

[februarysmoonlight]

got your heart in a headlock

aka soft secrets and domestic moments with jason todd

———

jason grew up in fire. all that he is and all he that knows is cigarette smoke and uncaged adrenaline. he never used to pretend to be something different, he knew what he was and he lived with that burden like he did any other. in the past, he never lied to himself, or let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something else.

something good.

enter you, you who is good and whole and endlessly kind. you with lips full of sugar, arms full of warmth, and eyes full of love. you, who was made with starlight and wonder, who never looked at him like he was a bad dog, like you were capable of being bit. you, who is light and closeness and understanding. who loves him so deeply in a way he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

so when he comes home from his world of ash and blood, he becomes someone who wears your vanilla shampoo, just because he likes to smell like you. he becomes someone who has the time to watch cheesy romcoms and lengthy youtube videos, just because he gets to hold you in his arms. he becomes someone who sleeps in a bed with eight pillows and dozens of stuffed animals, because he can listen to your soft snores all night long. in your home (which you insist is his too), he is not made of jagged, broken edges, he is not unloveable, he is not a violent dog.

he starts to believe that your love could make him something beyond bloody knuckles and restless nights.

he’s your jason, and he thinks that’s all he wants to be. even if he’s not good at showing you how much he cares. even if he has trouble accepting that your kindness and goodness don’t come with ulterior motives or strings attached. even if he can’t be the guy he thinks you deserve, he still loves being your jason. it’s his duty more than his role, he lives to see you smile, to hold you in his arms on rough nights, to kiss you senseless. because you’ve given him a strange sort of hope that makes him believe he can be more than he is.

normally, you’re not able to sneak out of bed without waking him up. vigilantes senses and whatnot make him an infuriatingly light sleeper, but today was one of those rare mornings you managed to slip from his iron grasp and get up to pee without disturbing your sleeping beauty.

you take a second to watch him, smiling softly as his chest falls rhythmically while he breathes. you don’t often get to see him so peaceful, where his body isn’t tense with the weight of the world, his eyes don’t have that worried glare. you like that, at least in his moments of unconsciousness, he doesn’t feel so unfathomably stressed when he’s with you.

you gently close the bedroom door, making sure you’re quiet enough to not let your boyfriend continue to rest. once you hear the satisfying click of the door, you move to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

you turn on some soft music, ensuring that the volume is low enough as not to disturb jason’s sleep, as you work, pulling the ingredients from your pantry, preheating the oven. you crack three eggs into a small bowl, humming to yourself as you go through the motions. you don’t notice jason until he slips his arms around your waist, pulling a yelp from your throat.

he breathes you in, carefully smushing his nose into your hair. he’s so warm you think, you want to live a life in those arms, big and protective and a wonderful source of heat. “tell me i didn’t wake you up.” you wince, leaning back into his chest, looking up at him. he shakes his head, yawning.

“you didn’t, ma.” he says, sleep plaguing is voice. his obvious exhaustion not stopping him from smiling down at you. “what’re’ya making?” a twinge of an accent bleeds into his voice, the jersey he doesn’t care to hide so early in the morning, a part of him you revel in getting to hear.

you smile back, looking back down and continuing your work with the ingredients in front of you. “i’m baking a pie for mrs. lewitski downstairs.” you explain. “her cat just died.” you say, a small pout pushing at your lips.

jason shakes his head, frowning softly. “poor lady. can i help?” he asks, his voice twinging with empathy. he wonders if, before he met you, he would care about such a thing. if he would be the sort of person to sympathize with something as small as a cat funeral without your guiding hand.

you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would.

you nod, pointing at a cutting board and a pile of granny smiths. “cut the apples.”

he nods, pressing a kiss against the tippy-top of your head before he pulls away, a goodbye that feels like torture. “yes ma’am.” he says, carefully taking a knife out of the knife block before heading over to his station.

neither of you talk, lost in the comfort of each other’s company. jason peels and cuts the apples with expert precision, you form the dough for the crust. it’s quiet little moments like these that make up a life together.

“jay?” you ask, after giving up on rolling out the particularly tough dough. “could you give me a hand?”

he looks up from the apples, of which he’s already almost finished (damn those vigilante skills), and gives you a nod. he sets down the knife, coming up behind you, pressing himself against your back.

“of course, baby.” he whispers into your ear, his teeth lightly sinking into your cartilage, just enough to make you shiver. he gently places his arms over yours, holding his calloused hands atop yours. he moves the rolling pin slowly back and forth, putting his strength into the dough.

he pushes dough slowly, his breath hot against your neck. “like this?” he asks, once the dough gets thin enough. again, you shiver, his voice sending little waves through your spine.

“little thinner.” you say, leaning back into him.

“little thinner.” he hums, his voice a low mumble in your ear.

jason todd grew up in fire, he was born in it. but that fire makes him emit a pleasant warmth that you can’t live without. it makes his touch burn against your skin, sending electric shots through your body. it makes him the only person you’ve ever wanted to come home too, the only person you’ve ever been capable of loving, the only person you could ever love. his warmth was made for you, a cocoon of his fire you can only pray surrounds you for as long as you live.

he continues rolling, until he gets the crust rolled just right. truthfully, you extended the moment a little more than necessary, lightly instructing just a bit more, oh wait, can you make it thicker? to allow yourself to bask in the fire a second longer. you can feel a knowing smile pressing into your head, noting how he does move ever-so-slightly slower in service to you.

once he’s done, he pulls away, his hand trailing against your waist, lingering in the small of your back for a second longer than he likely should. he goes back to chopping the apples, humming with a small smile on his face. you too continue your task, making a sugar mixture to pour over the cubed granny smiths.

eventually, you both finish, and he helps you pour the apple-brown-sugar mixture into the dough-lined pie tins he helped you make. his hands are surprisingly gentle with the pasty. you didn’t realize that he was scared of ruining something as delicate and beautiful as something your hands were benevolent enough to create. but he would do whatever you asked, even if he was unsure why you would want his help. he doesn’t create, he destroys.

“can you press a fork against the edges, like this?” you ask, demonstrating how he could press both ends of the pies together. he simply nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the silver from your hands. “i’ll check the oven.”

you pull back and open the oven, sticking your hand into the scorching air to test its temperature, earning a small frown from jason. you quickly close the door and turn back to him, moving across the kitchen. your hands slide around his waist, meeting just below his belly button. you lean up, pressing your head into the back of his neck, planting a small kiss against his spine.

“you’re good at that.” you say, watching as he works.

“yeah?” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. he doesn’t quite believe he’s doing less harm than good, but he likes the reward he’s getting for it.

“i should make you my official pie-presser.” you respond, placing another kiss against his neck.

“i’d be honored.”

“you should be.”

“you’re making it a bit hard for me to focus, ma.” he says, shivering as you kiss him again and again, making sure to breath him in.

you smile against his skin. “i only need you to focus until we put these in the oven.” you mumble seductively, breathing hot air into his ear.

he pauses, stiff and still for an entire moment, before his shoulders drop and he returns to work like a man possessed. you squeeze yourself into him, breathing in his scent- a mix of irish spring and leather.

he only moves to put the pies in the oven, giving your arm a squeeze before he pulls away. “how long?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the keypad on the oven timer.

“twenty-five minutes.” you say, leaning back against the countertop. he presses the buttons carefully, before making his way back to you.

he smiles, not just with his mouth, but with those piercing blue eyes you can’t seem to tear yourself away from. his hair, messy from sleep, falls a bit in his face and, well, it’s your job to push it back. once he gets close enough to dip his head down, your hands are all over him, one against his forehead, smoothing his hair, and the other trailing down his arm.

“you’re my favorite helper.” you say, as he leans closer, a grin forming from the smile that had such a hold on his lips.

without warning, his hands slip on the bottoms of your thighs, and he hoists you up on the counter, eliciting a yelp from you.

“jay!” you exclaim, giggling. you spread your legs just enough to make room for him, letting him lean in, placing your arms against his shoulders. he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“you didn’t think all that help was for free, did you?” he says, moving closer, his lips a breath away from yours. you playfully roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile on your face, or the red that dusts your cheeks.

“and what exactly do i owe you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he leans in closer, his lips taking yours. for a moment, all you are is jason, all you can and ever want to be is a person that he loves. his lips crash against yours, in a perfectly soft rhythm that you two have learned to follow with each other. passion isn’t a word intense enough to describe a kiss like this, especially when compared to the loveless kisses you’ve given your past partners.

this is love.

neither of you want to pull away, but you do. something so good means eventually you’ll have to come up for air.

“y’know, we’ve got—“ jason pulls his head back, checking the oven timer. “—twenty minutes and fifty three seconds before you have to take out the pies.” he points out, his eyes darting back to yours with a mischievous sort of grin. “why not make the most of them.”

you giggle a little bit, like he’s not your jason and you haven’t been in love with him all this time. it’s ridiculous your boyfriend of a year has such an effect on you still, but here you are, a blushing mess of a woman, infatuated with the man in front of you.

“and how would you suppose we do that?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his grin spreads across his face, and before you can think to do more than flash your dopey smile, he pulls his hands under your ass and picks you up, holding you against him.

you yelp again, giggling as he pulls you closer. your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms meet at his middle back. he smiles up at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your smile, before moving you towards the bedroom, sucking a soft kiss against your neck.

the secret you keep from jason, only because you know he wouldn’t believe you if you dared confess it, is that he is inherently good. yes, he was forged in fire, tossed around by a universe with little care for his happiness or his safety. you’re not sure how he hasn’t realized that that’s what makes him a good man, a man who cares about cat funerals and revels in making you feel warm and loved. you know that he credits you with his goodness, that you’re the reason he loves and deserves to be love, and if he needs you to be that reason, you’ll do it proudly. but jason is good beyond you, a man with unwavering character. that’s why you love him so.

[itsrlymine]

How Many Times Do You Need To Be Told It Already Happened To Know It's Done Now?

Make it simple because it is. Remember it already happened because it did. When we manifest something, WE LITERALLY BEGIN TO TALK ABOUT HOW IT MANIFESTED SO DO THAT SHIT NOW!!!  When something happens, we all naturally recount it. We explain it to ourselves afterwards in whatever way we can. If you want something to happen, tell yourself that it did.  I want a new job. Omg I love my new job. I want to receive tons of money. No way I just received so much money wow. I want a new apartment. Omg I love my new space.  The physicality of a thing isn’t what makes it real. It’s your perception that does. I don’t need to know what device you are reading this on to know you are reading. I don’t need to know when you started, how you pronounce the words, I don’t need to know anything but I know you are. It’s the same with everything else. 

Your mind’s eye sees EVERYTHING FIRST. That doesn’t mean it “takes long.” If you just saw something in your mind, IT HAPPENED. If you just thought of something you would like to experience, YOU ARE EXPERIENCING IT NOW. The only reason you “aren’t” is because you say so. Literally.  Again, when you think about memories, you experience them within you. You can feel like you are experiencing past feelings or thoughts by thinking about them yet you don’t question it. Now when it comes to things you do want, you act all weird about it??? Make it make fucking sense.  This whole entire thing is just about whether or not you trust yourself. Whether or not you believe in yourself. To believe in you is to believe in everything because you are everything. There is nothing outside of you. No power or being dictating whether or not you are worthy of something. The power is you.   I wanted to hear from someone I hadn’t heard from in years last night and then I had to remember “umm?? I’m pretty sure we just got off the phone what the heck.” They called me and we spoke as if there hadn’t been any time that passed at all between us. It had been over 3 years but should I have let that determine if I’d hear from them? NO. It doesn’t matter. The story you tell about yourself is the experience you live. Think back to before you found out about the law (you). You can literally see how your thinking and who you thought yourself to be created situations you were in as a result. There’s no need to sit and beat yourself up about the past because it’s also now just what you say it is.   Give yourself that peace you want. Give yourself the stress free space to enjoy life. There is nothing you can’t achieve as long as you have an open mind.  The world is constantly showing you who you say you are and what you believe about it. Whatever you say you are, you are.  You’ve accepted the fact that you can read and understand the words on this post so what’s stopping you from accepting the fact that you now have what you previously wanted. Be still and fucking know. It’s yours already damn. 

[lesbiansforkevinday]

Three new diva’s have entered the chat in part 5! (tell me how you like it when I include “exy fans”) (featuring my own little self insert hihi)

Please ignore the lack of tattoos/scars these people will have in pictures I can’t be asked to edit them I’m sorry just imagine they’re there this is taking place after tkm and somewhere during tsc/tgr. Also ignore if the numbers on the posts don’t make any sense I don’t use Twitter and don’t know how it works and I have no idea what quoted tweets even are.

Translations from the German words/phrases:

Schabernack betreiben - causing mischief (Google told me the translation to Schabernack would be prank but genuinely I disagree. I mean a prank definitely is Schabernack. But Schabernack is more than just a prank. It’s a lifestyle. *flips hair* sincerely, a German person).

noch mehr Schabernack - even more mischief

sein Name ist Kevin - his name is Kevin (here in Germany we make fun of people called Kevin. There’s this prejudice against people with that name that they’re stupid. I actually read up online why it is that we think that and it’s basically just based on prejudices (duh!). If you’re interested, feel free to look it up yourself, but it makes this whole thing a lot less funny and I already prepared more Kevin jokes in the next parts)

If you’re interested in getting tagged in these so you don’t miss them, let me know!!

tag list: @minyard-05 @all-for-exy @andreilscat @tessasilverswan @carbon-dated-gal @anxiouslyandmessily @gansey-like @iwannascreameurekaa @qixjone @hawkeye08 @buffalo-fox @meta-breakers @williamluvr @you-know-i-get-itt @youdontknowhowtodiequietly @bumble-bean-boy @weralika @dead-welsh-king

[sevsgiirl]

hi, ive been reading a lot of your fics lately and i absolutely adore how you write sevika mwehehe can i have a request? can you make a fic where reader unintentionally raised her voice at sevika during an argument and sevika went teary eyed with her puppy eyes, and after that reader promised sevika that she'll never do it again, maybe a lots of angst and fluff/comfort? thank you so much and please never stop writinggggggg AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

— sevika when you raise your voice at her

synopsis: you and sevika had one promise to each other; no matter what happens, you won’t blow an argument out of proportion. if either one of you senses you’re about to say or do something spiteful — you walk out. so what happens when you fail to do that and hurt her in the process?

tags: arguing, mentions of violence, screaming, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, angst, reader is kind of a bitch (I was lowkey projecting when I wrote this)

note: I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but as a girly who has serious temper issues this req hit too close to home :’) because my biggest fear is accidentally letting my anger out on my partner so thank you for sending this req in and for your kind words. ily <3 I hope you like this.

it felt like you two were running around in circles at this point.

you only ever asked sevika one thing and one thing only - to look out for herself and to stop playing martyr all the time. you get it. she has a job to do and she looks out for people. but how much more of playing sacrifice will it take before her actions eventually backfire on her?

maybe you sounded selfish, but you didn’t care. you were exhausted seeing your girlfriend come home all the time looking so beaten up - sometimes her prosthetic was missing, she’s limping, blood smeared all over her and there have been occasions she didn’t even come home. you ran around zaun in search of her during those days just to find her sporting new bruises and another broken limb in the last drop, clearly not wanting you to see her in that state.

but you did. you always do and you were getting tired fearing for her life 24/7.

“sweetheart, it’s not that big of a deal-“

you scoffed, throwing your hands up “of course you don’t think it’s a big deal, you’re only thinking about yourself, vika.”

you’ve been going on about this for almost an hour now and yet neither of you can’t seem to reach an agreement. you were both stubborn but the minute she walked into the front door adorning another black eye, bruised upper lip and new stitches, you knew enough was enough.

you shook your head, setting the medicine kit aside as you turned away from her because you knew if you stared at her for too long you were going to end up having a nervous breakdown. because how much longer until she realizes her self destructive behavior is not only hurting herself but you as well?

she sighed, leaning against the couch as she watched you gripped the kitchen counter, refusing to meet her eye.

“it’s not like I wanted this to happen. who wants to get their ass beat? but it was inevitable and if I didn’t get those payments silco will-“

“oh my god, who gives a fuck about silco?” you exclaimed, whipping around to look at her with a scowl “he is not worth getting your ass whooped every. single. day, sevika. he really isn’t and you need to get it through your head that this need to put your life on the line for people who treat you like crap is not doing you any good and it never will.”

“he has a plan. I wouldn’t be trusting him if he didn’t.” she argued through clenched teeth, trying to sit up and you only threw a glare at her.

“sevika, sit your ass back down before you hurt yourself-“

“no, because I hate it that you’re treating me like I’m so fragile and acting like my work means nothing and that everything I do is just for nothing.” she hissed and you only looked at her with your mouth agape.

“when did I say any of that?” you said as you stalked towards her “stop making it seem like my concern for you is just me trying to undermine you and your job when I’ve been here to support you since day one.”

“well, it doesn’t feel like it-“

“because fucking look at you, sevika!” you couldn’t hold it in anymore, your anger finally boiled over and words were thrown just to spite “you look like a fucking idiot every time you walk through the door and you have a new black eye, your mech arm is ripped off, your leg is limping or you can’t feel your left fucking ass cheek. I take care of you every single time yet you still to go back to silco just so he can put you through the same bullshit over and over again!”

“so what? are you just reckless or too stupid? which one is it?” you were breathing heavily and sevika could only stare at you with wide eyes and her lips parted.

she’s never seen you this mad before, not only that but what you just said to her… it hurt not only because you wanted your words to hurt, but because all she could think about is how you once promised each other that you’d never let your arguments get this far.

she understood where you coming from but if there was one person she’d never expect to blow up on her, it was you.

she closed her eyes and tried to muster up a response, but she found nothing. instead, you were greeted with silence as sevika turned her back on you and placed her hands on her hips.

you were still recovering from your outburst but the second the dust settled in and you realized your mistake, it was as if your factory settings were switched and you immediately walked over to sevika, your hands trembling.

“vika…” you said as you laid a tentative hand on her shoulder “vika, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

“j-just forget about it,” you didn’t miss the way her voice shook. she was never the type to cry in front of anyone, not even you most times, but you recognized the signs of her resolve crumbling.

with that, you wasted no time hugging her from behind, holding onto her like she was your life support.

“vika, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice I just…” you let out a shuddering breath and held her tighter “I just got so worried. I hate seeing you get hurt all the time and I know it’s your job and you know much I appreciate what you do for this city but just… I can’t afford to lose you, baby.”

you nuzzled against her broad back and let out a sniffle “because what if one day you just don’t walk through those doors anymore? what if it’s not your mech arm that’s gone, but you entirely? I can’t keep risking letting you get hurt until eventually I just lose all of you. that’d be the end of me and I can’t fucking do that.”

“I’m so scared of losing you, vika.” you said, your voice trembling “you’re the only one I have left and if I lose you I wouldn’t know what to do.”

it was quiet. so eerily quiet you could hear a pin drop before finally, sevika lets out a deep breath and loosens your arms around her so she could face you.

what you see once she turns around nearly shatters your heart into smithereens - tear stained cheeks and glossy eyes, she looked absolutely torn apart and you wanted to beat yourself up for even raising your voice at her in the first place.

“oh baby,” you cupped her cheek and almost as if on instinct, she leaned into it “I’m so fucking, sorry. I’m so sorry, vika. please f-forgive me. I just-“

she shook her head, placing her palm on top of yours “i-it’s okay,” she said “just… I understand where you’re coming from, and I’ll try to look out for myself more properly. but just know you’re never gonna lose me, okay? I’ll always be here with you. no matter what. forever and always.”

she squeezed her eyes shut and intertwined your fingers together “let’s just not fight like that ever again, okay?”

you nodded, engulfing her in a tight embrace “I promise.” you said, emphasizing every word “never again.”

[numinously-yours]

Choose a letter: A message from your future spouse

In this week's reading, I have letters from your future spouses <3 Each reading will also have a love song attached along with a specific line from that song that stuck out. Choose a group and happy reading!

Like your reading? Reblog and tag your group!

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Letter 1

Song: True by Spandau Ballet Lyric: "This is the sound of my soul"

Cards for your letter: ace of swords reversed, three of pentacles reversed, queen of cups reversed, and the two of cups

Text: Hi Darling, I’m sure that you’re wondering where I am & when I’ll finally show myself. Right now, I am working to make sure I will be the best version of myself when we finally come together. Past relationships haven’t worked out. I know I get to meet you eventually, but the journey’s been a bit exhausting. I bet you can relate. As I take this time to work on myself, I feel my soul being pulled closer and closer to yours. I know this is a test of our faith. The universe is asking us to following our souls’ purposes. Among all the signs, synchronicities, prayers, and intuition, if we always come back to the needs of our souls then we’ll always be on the path to each other. I don’t know when we’ll meet (I hope it’s soon!) but I know that when we do, this will all make sense. With love, Your future spouse

Letter 2

Song: You're the inspiration by Chicago Lyric: "You know our love was meant to be; the kind of love that lasts forever, and I want you here with me"

Cards: The World reversed, Justice reversed, The Lovers, ten of wands reversed, seven of pentacles reversed, The Fool

Text:

Dear X, The main purpose of my letter is to let you know that our relationship will be unlike anything either of us has experienced before. Where there used to be passive aggression, there will be healthy communication. Where there used to be blame, there will be accountability. Where there used to be burdens we carried alone, there will be an extra set of hands to distribute the weight. In my own life, I am finally gaining the closure I need for the experiences that have brought me down. I am feeling rejuvenated and optimistic. I know for a fact that all the bullshit was to show us we don’t deserve anything less than the feelings above. We will take this upcoming adventure together and I think you’ll be convinced, too. I can’t wait to show each other what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. Let’s find each other soon, okay?? I love you! X

Letter 3:

Song: I swear by All-4-one Lyric: "I'll build your dreams with these two hands"

Cards: Six of wands, page of cups reversed, four of pentacles reversed, The Hierophant, The Empress

Text:

Dear future spouse, This is the fourth draft I’ve written of this note to you. The first three were on paper but with all the scratching out I’ve been doing, I decided to skip the paper and find a keyboard with a backspace button. I want to get my words just right. Up until recently, what mattered most in my world was fancy gadgets and making enough money to buy them. But then something changed and all I can think of is wanting to create a life of substance, not a life of things. My viewpoint of the world has been opened, and with that, comes longing for connection and sharing the beauty of life with someone else. I am ready for that feeling people talk about when they speak on love. I am ready to show someone how important their mere existence is. Now more than ever, I truly believe we only get this one life to live, and it shouldn’t be wasted on the material. I hope that when we meet you will know it’s me. My yearning to connect with you is strong and I would be surprised if my energy hasn’t made it your way yet. If it hasn’t, that’s okay because I won’t stop trying. I finally know what is most important in this lifetime and I won’t forget it any time soon. Sincerely yours, Your future spouse

Letter 4:

Song: Meant to be by Bebe Rexha (Acoustic version) Lyric: "We got nothing but time. As long as you're right here next to me, everything's gonna be alright"

Cards: The Lovers, The World, Seven of Cups, The Chariot, Queen of Swords

Text:

Hey you! Our meeting is right around the corner, I can FEEL it. I’ve been working hard on manifesting the life I want and you are an integral piece of that. You emit an energy that I can’t get enough of. I can just tell how smart, true, and incredible you are. When we get together, there will be a sense of fulfillment that neither of us knew was missing. So many opportunities are on their way to us! I know you share the same value for relationships as I do. I want you to know that I will always work my hardest to make you aware of how special you are. It is my promise that I will be honest, open, and respectful to you. I am SO ready to make these manifestations come to fruition. See you soon! - Your future spouse

[gingerteafairy]

“more rodrick fics!” me and the crowd yell in unison

say no more, rodrick's back

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

rodrick heffley x reader

summary: Rodrick feels bad for being dyslexic, but you're always there to support him. tags n warnings: fluff, college!rodrick, maybe a little angst and low self esteem, dyslexia.word count: 1.5k masterlist

A/N: one of my best friends is dyslexic, so i thought about her doing this. she believes in canon dyslexic rodrick lmao

What wouldn’t a human do to rack up extra hours for their college resume? Once again, you and Rodrick found yourselves sitting through a lecture you didn’t even know the topic of.

On stage, an older woman spoke with the confidence of someone in the middle of a great dream, refusing to wake up. The audience, on the other hand, looked like they were trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

Rodrick, already slouched in his seat, pulled out his phone and started typing, subtly gesturing for you to do the same.

Rod: This lecture sucks. Get me out of hereeeeee.

You: So boring. I don’t think she even knows what she’s talking about. She keeps asking if she’s making sense or if she’s right.

Rod: you actually paying attention to this shyt?

You: I would be if I weren’t distracted by the fact that she’s wearing a leopard print dress, a neon green belt, and hot pink boots.

Rodrick lowered his phone slightly, glancing up at the woman on stage.

Rod: That’s stile right there. You got any woter?

You: Woter?

Rod: Yeah, woter. The liquid that kills thrust.

You: THRUST

Rod: OH MY GOD. Watter and thirst.

You: AAAAAAAAA.

Rodrick widened his eyes and smacked his forehead with his palm.

Rod: Doesn’t matter. You know I’m epileptic.

You: You mean dyslexic?

Rod: No, that’s a soda.

You nearly choked on your laugh, quickly covering your mouth to avoid drawing attention.

You: Dyslexia is when someone has trouble reading and writing. Epilepsy is seizures.

Rod: Ure just making up words now. My psichrist told me it’s epilepsy.

You: Considering what you do with drumsticks, I kinda see it.

Rod: stfu, you’re being a idiot.

You: How did you even get into college?

Rodrick smirked, lazily draping an arm over the back of his chair.

Rod: Because you woudn’t suvive with out me.

You: So you rigged the tests?

Rod: Anything for my wondrfu girlfriend.

Rodrick finally glanced away from his phone to look at you. His smirk softened before he leaned in and pressed a slow, unhurried kiss to your cheek. Then, he lowered his phone and scanned the room. The auditorium was empty enough that no one cared what you two were doing.

Picking up his phone again, he typed:

Rod: Looks like this thing wraping up. Wanna go get an amburger?

You: Let’s go now. We already signed in at the entrance.

Rodrick nodded in approval, shoving his phone into his pocket as he stood up. He waited for you to step ahead, then grabbed your hand, fingers intertwining with yours as you walked toward the parking lot.

The campus was quiet—the other students were probably skipping the lecture entirely or napping somewhere.

When you reached the van, Rodrick unlocked the door and pulled it open, pausing before getting in.

“Hey, what did you put for letter three?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“For the test?” You held back a laugh as you caught the small mistake and slid into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. I think I got it totally wrong. Why do we still have math in college anyway?” He shook his head, turning the key in the ignition. “I mean… we still have that thing with the number lines.”

“You mean Roman numerals?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with an amused smile.

Rodrick rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his head back against the seat.

“Yeah. There’s this crowd pleaser in my class who wrote the test questions in Roman numerals. Everyone laughed at him.”

“Wow, that’s mean.” You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Rodrick waved his hands around dramatically before dropping them onto the steering wheel.

“There’s something wrong with that kid. He asked me what LII was like I’m an idiot.”

You tilted your head, curious. “And what did you do?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, like he was still annoyed about it.

“Told him to quit being a psychopath making up numbers. That one doesn’t even exist. I know because numbers only go up to XX. High School biology.”

You widened your eyes, barely holding in your laughter. "I never made that connection before. You must be a genius."

Rodrick, clearly pleased with himself, puffed out his chest and stretched his arms as if he were carrying the weight of immense knowledge on his back.

"A lot of geniuses were dyslexic. I looked it up on ChatGPT." He paused dramatically, resting his hands on the steering wheel before shooting you a serious look. "By the way, I love being born in this era. I have no idea how I’d survive without ChatGPT."

You laughed, leaning slightly toward him.

"So I guess you hate those people who say they were born in the wrong generation."

Rodrick groaned, throwing his head back once again.

"Totally. As if these kids wouldn’t be glued to their phones no matter what era they lived in." He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "At least I’m honest about my eight hours of screen time."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised.

"I never realized you were on your phone that much."

Rodrick scratched the back of his neck, glancing out the window like he was reluctant to admit something.

"It's just... when you're not with me, I kinda get stuck on it."

Warmth spread through your chest at his confession. You smiled and reached out, gently touching his chin to turn his face toward you.

"You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?"

Rodrick blinked a few times, looking caught off guard. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, his gaze flickering down to the dashboard before meeting yours again.

"Don’t you ever feel bad about dating someone so…" He took a deep breath, swallowing hard. "...so dumb?"

Your smile disappeared instantly.

"Dumb?" You furrowed your brows, leaning in slightly.

Rodrick pressed his lips together, staring at the steering wheel. He shook his head, like he already knew you were going to deny it but still couldn’t fully believe it himself.

"Rodrick, you're not dumb. You just have more trouble reading. That doesn’t make you stupid."

He let out a long sigh, his shoulders sinking as if he’d been carrying that thought for a while.

"It’s not that... I don’t know. You’re so smart, and I just keep messing things up all the time." His voice was lower now, almost like he was talking more to himself than to you.

You slid your hand over his, which rested on the steering wheel, and slowly intertwined your fingers, giving a firm squeeze.

"You’re sweet for ignoring my mistakes and not making fun of me," he murmured. "But sometimes, I feel like you’re just lying to make me feel better."

Without hesitation, you squeezed his hand tighter.

"Rodrick, I love you." Your voice was steady, leaving no room for doubt. "And that’s never going to change. Never let this make you feel less than you are."

Rodrick lifted his eyes slowly, like he was trying to fully absorb your words. A small, almost hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Then, without saying anything, he brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss against it, closing his eyes for a moment.

He stayed like that for a while, just gently brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, as if he wanted to hold on to this moment forever.

"You know when I realized I was in love with you?" he asked, locking eyes with you.

"When?" You leaned in closer, curiosity shining in your gaze.

“When I asked if you wanted to see my dick and I said duck.” He beamed, intertwining your hands with his. “Seriously, you didn’t break the mood or anything, you just laughed and kept going. That was, like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever done to me.”

“It was kinda cute tho.” You smiled, playing with his hands. “The only thing cuter than when you saw a cat and said you were petting a pussy.”

"Oh, okay. You might as well run me over with a truck now."

He threw his hands up in an exaggerated gesture before covering his face with both palms, as if he wanted to disappear from existence.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter. A loud, uncontrollable laugh bubbled up from your chest, filling the van.

Rodrick froze for a second, narrowing his eyes as a dramatic sigh slipped from his lips. Slowly, he peeled his hands away from his face, the corners of his mouth twitching into a satisfied smirk.

"At least my epilepsy makes you laugh."

You rolled your eyes, still laughing, and tilted your head to the side, letting it rest against the seat.

"It's always good to see the bright side of things."

Rodrick watched you for a moment, his gaze softening. Then, he leaned in slowly, his hand trailing up to your face, cold fingers barely grazing your cheek before gently pulling you into a quick, but affectionate, kiss.

"Guess not everything about me is a disaster."

[glitchy1938]

(Same anon who asked for the reader who gets visions) oooo I loved the reader who gets visions post, you really know how to make a vision take flight

Sorry for requesting again, but I’ve got another idea floating in my mind. You don’t have to write this if it is too detailed of a concept :)

What about a reader who is a friend and fellow virtue of the ancients or beasts (they’re my favorite groups I’m sorry) and desperately craves to be acknowledged as worthwhile, not exactly jealous and will never say it but they feel like they are never recognized for all the work they do, so obviously they need to do more! And they begin to slowly corrupt with visible cracks throughout their dough, and they start getting more resentful, refusing to stop their work because they think their friends want to steal the glory for themselves, as they are actively destroying themself.

It took a while but I made it, I also made with my OC if that's okay.

Even If I'm Crumbling..... I Need More...!!

[Ancients & Beasts x reader]

Pure Vanilla Cookie

• You were his closest friends with White lily Cookie, and he really appreciate that you want to know more about everything.

• But he feel... Something else in you... Like, everytime he get better at something, you want to surpass him, he didn't quite get it at first...

• You never admit it to him, or anyone, but the more he get of acknowledgement, the more you feel you NEEDED to do more.

• You started to work even more harder then before, even not eating, drinking or getting any sleep ! That doesn't matter to you. All you needed what to prove to everyone that they recognise your hard work.

• Pure Vanilla tried everything... To at least make you eat, drink or get a sleep. But you deny all of that. Saying that you had to surpass yourself more and more and they won't take all your glory to themselves.

• He didn't want to force you, but that change when you saw that your Doug start to slowly crumble.

• This time, he stayed with you all time, refusing to leave your side and forcing you to take care of yourself. He didn't care that you'll hate them, all he wanted was for you to come back to your sense...!!

Hollyberry Cookie

• She's the one who saw first that you truely change, yes, it's good to surpass yourself, but not until you crumble !!

• You're one of her dearest friends and she can't stand seeing you refuse to take care of yourself and only wanted to be more stronger than her to get more glory.

• She'll force you to, even if it means locking your room with her so she'll be here with you and make sure that you won't die of working yourself until death !!

• She will not allow it.

Dark Cacao Cookie

• Now, this man will be impressed by all your work, telling you that you did great. But... That wasn't enough for you.

• As a king, he know that all eyes are on him when he do something impressing. So he doesn't get it why you so need to do more.

• You wanted to take away his crown ? No, he knew you didn't... Than why ?? Why working so hard into the aren to prove you're strong ?

• He didn't want to interrupt you at first, but it's when Caramel Arrow Cookie informed him that you passed out in the training area and your Doug was slowly crumble that he take it seriously.

• He won't listen to your pleading or order to let you go training again, for crumble yourself even more ?!? DON'T YOU SEE WHAT'S HAPPENED TO YOU ?!!

• He'll order his servent or even himself to take care of you. It doesn't matter of you don't want to, he won't lose you like he almost lost his kingdom.

Golden Cheese Cookie

• This diva will NOT tolerate that you're willing to give your life just to prove yourself more.

• Yes, she's greedy and love gold and her kingdom, and also the fame and glory, but she know what's more important and take care of yourself.

• She doesn't allow you go to found the most important treasure or something, she won't let you get hurt or killed.

• She'll pemper you for your hard work every time you're about to do more or your Doug is about to crumble more.

White Lily Cookie

• She's also working herself to get forgiven by the other Ancients, but she's very worried about you.

• She always find yous still in your desk because she's also working a little more ay Night time but seeing there with more knowledge books beside than before, where you there the hole time ?!?

• She doesn't want to force you, she take your hands and pleaded you to stop your work, you only hurt yourself more !!

• If that doesn't work.... She'll apologize but dragged you in your bed and laying on top of you so that you won't escaped.

• She'll hug you tightly as you told her that you won't let her take your work, she doesn't care about that !! SHE CARE ABOUT YOU GOD DAMN IT !!!

• She'll give you all the medecin you need to recover, and to your mental health is back to a normal cookie work.

• She doesn't want to lose you please !!

Sweet Bleu Chocola Cookie (aka Zakia)

• She already saw the Doug started to crumble when she saw you working harder then before. She immediately start to heal you injuries and taking you to your chambers.

• She maybe sweet and all, but she won't let some glory get the better of her friends, and specially not you.

• She'll even ask her uncle or sister to the throne until she's SURE that you'll stop working yourself too hard !!

• If you say to her that she won't take your work away from you, she'll cry and for the first time yell at you to stop your none sence !! DID SHE EVER VALUE GLORY MORE THAN FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE ?!?

• You'll be stuck with her until you recover, end of story.

The Beasts

Shadow Milk Cookie

• Well this man is... already interested in your hard working self, and almost happy that you see him as glory as he also see himself... that, is until he saw your Doug start to crumble.

• He won't tell you to stop, oooh no, he'll just dragge you into his chamber and give you What you need to stop.

• He won't take "no" for an answer when he ask for you to eat or sleep. You'll need all your strength if you want to recover.

• He's not the best at comforting, but you can see that he's trying to.

• His minions also are worried about you, believe it or not.

• Candy Apple Cookie pleaded her master to let her take care of you, seeing you like that makes her heart broke... Same with Black Saphire Cookie, his mission is to look out for you when you try to work again.

• He get it that you want to clam glory for your hard work, but it's not like that that you'll succeed.

Burning Spice Cookie

• This man, as we all know, is THE working cookie then anyone, and he push his army or anyone else who can be useful.

• He's proud to see you working more and more of yourself when your in the training area. But he saw the Doug slowly crumble too...

• He didn't ask you to stop or go get rest, he ORDERED you to stop. But of course, you didn't listen.

• He'll have to dragree you by picking you like a potato bag on his shoulder while you scream at him to let go of you.

• He doesn't care if you try to fight back, the last thing he want is you die because you didn't take care of yourself.

Mystic Flour Cooke

• She's the cookie of Empathy, but that doesn't mean that she's not worried about your health.

• She get it that you want to prouve yourself more, but if that mean you'll die of this, she won't accept it.

• She'll directly tell you to stop and get rest IMMEDIATELY. And if you're being stubber and refuse, she'll take you hand like a child and won't listen to your pleading to let you work

• She'll scold you for pushing yourself just for glory. Saying that it will only hurt you more than it'll give.

Red Chocola Cookie

• This girl won't listen to you saying that you need to know more or be more strong.

• she'll force you to stop doing what ever your doing to go to bed and to think of nothing else.

• The glory must really take your head, did you think she need fame or glory ? hell she'll think you go crazy because of it.

• Even if she's married and want to see her sister and brother, she'll ask- no... Order her husband (Fallacy) to send letters to her sister and brother, and cancel any work or duty she has.

• She'll give you the best medecin you need to recover, food, water, anything you need for stop hurting yourself more.

[rainydayathogwarts]

would you write older!ron weasley x potter!reader where reader is harry‘s new stepdaughter & ron has never met her before. so one day they hook up & take a selfie afterwards cause they got along great. so ron is bragging about banging this hot chick last night & showed his friends the picture. well hermione recognizes reader as harry’s stepdaughter & immediately tells ron. he freaks out „what?!? but she’s not a minor, right?! she said she was 25!“ „no but she turned 18 just 2 months ago!“

and then harry finds out too!🤭 would be so funny! but reader & ron are a good couple so it’s all sorted out in the end🙂‍↔️ pls include smut!!🤭

Buy you a drink - ron weasley x harry's step-daughter reader

summary: when ron unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through a one night stand, he rushes to tell his friends the next day. but unfortunately, that reveals some new information about you, the apparent love of his life. wc: 3976 cw: smut, age gappp (r! 19, for the logistics to work, ron mid/late 30's, kind of dbf vibe but they don't know yet)

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

Ever since the new year had hit, Ron was convinced that this was his year. There were some moments in which he doubted that (severely), but other times the universe showed him it was on his side.

For instance, when Seamus had dragged Ron to a pub after work with a large group of giggling girls in a corner, Ron had shaken his head, begging Seamus to find another spot to spend the night. However, the bartender had quickly cut in, telling him “Oh give them a break, it’s a birthday celebration.” And begrudgingly, Ron had let Seamus drag him to the only available booth left, just next to the table they occupied. As the night went on though, Ron found himself warming up to the group of giggling girls, listening in on the funny jokes they shared. “Hey, let me buy the birthday girl a drink.” Ron had finally told Seamus, halting their conversation momentarily as he waved over one of the cocktail waitresses. “Uh if you have any idea what the birthday girl on that table is drinking, could you get her another one? Put it on my tab.”

Ron had no idea whose birthday it was, but when Seamus snuck off to the bathroom, leaving him alone, he was glad he had decided on being generous. Why? Well, the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life had stood from the table of girls, wearing a short, black, corseted dress that exaggerated all of her curves. Your eyes met as you made your way towards Ron, a gorgeous smile on your face. Ron felt his breath hitch in his throat, shuffling deeper into his side of the booth to make space for you to sit down. You did, sliding in next to him, and cocking your head to the side.

“You know, I’m not a believer that I owe something to men who buy me drinks, but how can I resist when you are just so handsome?”

Ron literally felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of your velvety voice. He leaned forward, putting on his most charming smile, and instantly noticed the way your eyes flickered down to steal a glance at his lips. Ron brought his hand up to his face, caressing the stubble on his chin. Your eyes were instantly attracted to the movement, only snapping back up when he spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and smooth, making your thighs squeeze together as he said “Well I don’t usually buy women drinks, but how could I help it when you look like an angel sent from heaven? You know, I’m trying to score my place there.” You giggled softly, putting a hand on his bicep. “That’s sweet if we’re not thinking about the fact that there’s no way of telling I am the birthday girl.”

Ron gulped, his cheeks flushing for being caught in his lie. “Would you believe me if I said I could just sense it was you? Because that’s not the truth.” You laughed, squeezing Ron’s bicep slightly where your hand was placed. Ron looked down at where your second hand was placed neatly on your lap. He lifted it up softly, leaning his face down slightly to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “The truth is that I felt kind today. And I’ve never been happier to be kind because I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of witnessing your beauty otherwise.”

“That’s awfully poetic. Shame the only thing I have to say is that I thought you were leng.” Ron chuckled, letting go of your hand to wrap his big hand around his beer, taking a big swig of the drink. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever tried flattering a woman like I did with you, and to find out I could’ve just gone with ‘leng’” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side. “Well I don’t mind when a man is being poetic to me. Not too picky about it.” Ron smiled, a hand falling on your bare thigh, sticking his other one out in front of you. “Well I’m Ron, by the way. Sometimes I can be a poet, most of the time I’m not.”

You eagerly shook his hand, revelling in the rough touch to his skin. “I’m y/n - not a poet any of the time.” A silence fell amongst you, in which you just looked at each other, hands still clasped together. You broke eye contact with him, running your gaze down his body, and you caught a glimpse of the shiny badge on his waistcoat. Your eyes widened slightly, recognising that he wore the same badge your step-dad usually did. “You’re an auror?” You question, reaching up to run a finger over the shiny metal. Ron hummed wordlessly, and he noticed the mischievous glint blooming in your eyes when you asked “Will you walk me home later then? To keep me safe of anything looming in the shadows?”

“And you said you weren’t a poet.”

It didn’t take long for either of you to be walking out of the pub with your arms wrapped around each other. Despite Ron’s job as an auror, neither of you were paying enough attention to the streets you were walking on, too engrossed in the way each other’s lips moved when you spoke, desperate for the other to kiss you first so you could finally pounce.

When you were finally in front of your apartment door, you fiddled with your keys, taking several attempts until you finally managed to slide it into its position, unlocking the door with a satisfying click. You could smell Ron, his musky cologne radiating off his skin. His scent completely engulfed you as you locked the door behind you, both his arms locking you between him and your your front door. Giggling nervously, you pressed yourself onto your tippy toes, curling your arms over Ron’s broad shoulders as you smoothed your body flat against his.

Ron took a couple of steps forward until your back was flat against the dark wood of your front door before he finally leaned in to kiss you, his lips teasingly hovering just above yours. With a whine, you gave yourself the last push, launching yourself closer to Ron to deeply kiss him. It was as though something in Ron suddenly snapped, his fingertips gliding against the skin of your waist before tightly gripping you and tugging you deeper into your apartment. Gasping when the man suddenly began groping your ass, you arched your chest into his.

The older man pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, his lips barely touching yours as he gruffly asked “Bedroom?” You pointed to the door across the room, a breath of air getting caught in your throat as he dragged you in its direction, shoving the door open and encouraging you into the room.

Ron removed his waistcoat without bothering to undo its buttons, and he did the same with shirt. Yanking the tie from around his neck and tossing it into the corner of your room, Ron suddenly gasped as you undid the button of his trousers, fingers grazing over his erection as you tugged him closer to your bed, which you sat on the edge of. “Shit” He mumbled, watching carefully as you pushed his trousers down his thighs, his boxers quickly following.

Just as Ron decided to take over, leaning down to remove the articles of clothing completely, you wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him a couple of times until pearly beads of pre-cum trickled down his thick member. A hand cupped your cheek and you looked up curiously, smiling softly at Ron before ducking your head down and licking the tip of his cock. With a whimper, Ron thrusted his hips up, pushing his cock into your mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” He apologised, pulling out of your mouth completely, “I didn’t mean to.” Giggling softly, you shook your head, repeating your previous movement. “It’s okay, I liked it.” Your hand squeezed the shaft of Ron, cock, and he immediately wrapped a hand around your wrist, halting your movements. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. I won’t last long.”

You stood up, the tight proximity between you and Ron heightening the tension in the room as his cock grazed your stomach through your short dress. Ron didn’t move away, his fingers edging towards the bottom of your dress. He slowly pulled the fabric up your body, teasing himself as inches of your skin were revealed at a time. You lifted your arms up once the fabric surpassed your chest, and Ron eagerly tugged it off you before his hands were immediately on your body again, lips leaving kisses down your neck as his big hands groped at your braless chest and the fat of your ass. You whimpered as he bit down on the skin of your neck, tilting your head to expose more surface area to him, which he keenly welcomed with more kisses.

Squeezing your thighs together, you let Ron push you back on the bed, climbing over you to trap you between his beefy body and the mattress underneath you. You gasped as Ron wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, leaning on one forearm to hold himself up whilst the other one trailed down your body, nudging your legs apart from each other. “Oh!” You panted, closing your legs around Ron’s hand when he finally reached your cunt, fingers sliding under the flimsy material of your underwear to touch you.

“Be a good girl and keep your legs open for me.” Ron instructed, lifting his head off your chest and reconnecting your lips. A shudder ran through your body at the term of endearment, and your legs immediately fell open. Ron rewarded you with a satisfied hum, swallowed in the kiss as his fingers gently rubbed your clit before sliding down your pussy, feeling how wet you were. You snaked a hand through Ron’s fiery hair as he slid two fingers into you, licking at his bottom lip so he could get the hint and deepen the kiss.

And deepen the kiss, he did, his tongue roughly gliding against yours, swallowing every single moan you had to offer him as he pumped his digits inside you, scissoring them to stretch you out. Suddenly, Ron was lifting his body off you, expelling a disappointed cry from you as his fingers slipped out of your needy pussy. The man giggled, watching your cunt pulsate in front of him. You shut your legs at the sight of his gaze fixed onto your cunt, watching as he kicked off his shoes and tore his trousers off the rest of his legs.

As Ron climbed back onto the bed, you pushed yourself higher onto it so you could have enough space. His fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped your movements, freezing when he dipped his head down to press a kiss to the skin above his hand, continuing to trail them up your leg until he was leaving a wet stamp of saliva all the way up your inner thighs. He hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear, shooting you one last look before slipping them down your legs. You enthusiastically kicked them off your feet, one arm hooking over Ron’s shoulder to pull him down onto you. He chuckled as you bucked your hips up, eager for friction. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“Not little.” You disagreed, but Ron chuckled nonetheless, glancing down where his cock was resting on your abdomen. “We’ll see about that.” Ron gripped his cock, guiding himself into your entrance, moaning as he pushed the tip in, feeling your tight walls constrict around him. “Fuck, you’re tight. When was the last time someone took care of you huh?” You were too busy moaning to immediately answer his question, hooking a leg over his hip as he pushed deeper into you. “Fuck - like this? Never.”

Ron started snapping his hips into you at a fast pace, smirking in amusement as you screwed your eyes shut, mouth falling open to expel loud moans into the small room. “Yeah? These young men can’t give you pleasure this good?” Ron bit his lip as a groan grumbled in his chest, gasping when you slung your second leg over his hip to connect with your other one at the base of his back, closing the proximity between you. “No… no one fucks - oh god - no one fucks me this good!” Ron felt his cock twitch inside you at the unexpected praise, and he pushed your hair away from your neck to latch his lips onto it, sucking harshly on the skin.

He groaned against you as a hand came up to tug at his hair, moving your hips with the rhythm of his harsh thrusts. You lifted your free hand to play with your nipples, pinching them softly to add to your pleasure. Ron’s eyes fleeted over momentarily to watch the movement, groaning as he realised you were pleasuring yourself too. One of his hands trailed down your body to rest on your pelvis, pushing your body deeper into the mattress as he increased the power of his thrusts.

You gasped, back arching as the tip of his cock began repeatedly hitting the spongy spot inside you, your grip on Ron’s hair loosening so you could dig your nails into the sweaty skin of his back as you held on for dear life. Ron panted, moving his lips up to capture your lips in a desperate, messy kiss, full of tongue and hot breath.

“I’m close!” You cried, but Ron didn’t need you to tell him that, because he could feel it from the way your pussy began clenching around his dick. Ron lowered his hand down to your cunt, returning to their previous spot on your clit to put pressure on it again, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves with more power than he previously had. “Oh my god!” You moaned, back arching off the bed, nipples rubbing against Ron’s chest. “I’m so- I’m so-” But your words were cut off by the string of cries of Ron’s name, using your legs to pull his pelvis deeper into you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming.” Ron grunted, his hips digging into yours as he halted his movements, spilling his seed into you with thick ropes of cum. The overwhelming pleasure began fading away, leaving you in a state of post-orgasmic bliss. You unravelled your legs from around Ron’s body as he panted heavily, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. Raising your hand, your softly brushed away rogue strands of hair from his face, leaning down to press a kiss on his cheek that had a hot fluff overtaking his face.

With great effort, Ron pulled himself out of you, slumping down on bed next to you, his back leaning on the headboard. You turned around onto your stomach, pushing yourself up with a loud exhale of air before crawling over to Ron and settling yourself over his lap in a straddling position. Pleasantly surprised, Ron let out a fond laugh, his arms snaking around your waist to rest his hands on your ass. “You alright?” Ron asked, his voice hoarse. You hummed, resting your head on his chest.

This man, this stranger who you had known for no longer than three hours yet felt inexplicably safe around, with his cum dripping out of your cunt and onto his thighs.

“You look beautiful like this.” Ron found himself saying, pulling a suddenly shy smile out of you. He reached over the side of the bed, where his trousers lay, and he fumbled with the pockets until he felt for his phone. You watched curiously as he unlocked the device, finding the camera app and flipping the camera to face towards him. Ron pulled the camera back, just enough so both your faces were in the frame, and without instruction, you pressed a long kiss to Ron’s cheek, hearing the click of the camera as the image was captured.

“Another one, so I can remember your smile.” He bid you, and you smiled softly, looking at the camera as you admired how cute of a couple you would make.

“There’s no reason you'll have to remember it.” You said, reaching out to take the phone from his hands. You searched for the contacts app, opening a new file and adding your information to it before tossing his phone aside on the bed and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. Ron hummed, both hands resting on your waist. When you broke away from the kiss, you looked down to the spot your mixed cum had pooled down onto Ron’s thighs, and muttered “We should probably shower.”

And Ron nodded, walking with you into the shower, steaming water running down both your bodies as Ron pulled another orgasm out of you, his fingers selfishly rubbing you between your legs so he could watch the look of pure ecstasy cross your face again. He watched the way your back arched against this chest through the foggy mirror, whispering filthy words in your ears as you came again, your knees giving out on you. You only remained standing up because of Ron's muscular arm wrapped around your waist. When you were guided back to your bed, slumping down in exhaustion, Ron pulled your body against his, face finding home in the crook of your neck as he pressed one last kiss to your skin before falling fast asleep.

Despite his alarm ringing loudly the next morning, you were still snoozing away when Ron turned his phone off, struggling back into his clothes as his muscles groaned tiredly. Still, he walked into your kitchen and busied himself so that when you woke up, trudging into the open space of your flat in nothing but panties and a tank top, you found Ron making pancakes, a look of adoration in his eyes when he turned to greet you despite the mess you looked. “I was hoping I’d get a proper goodbye before going to work.” He sheepishly admitted as you wrapped your arms around him, giving him a gentle, tired kiss. “It’s already 10 though…”

“I work in the afternoon on saturdays.” He told you, offering you a plate stacked with freshly baked pancakes. You stole one off the top of the pile, and Ron followed you onto the couch like a lost puppy, abandoning half of the raw pancake mix in the bowl by the extinguished stove. Ron accepted all of the fluttering kisses you pressed on his skin before he finally had enough, cupping your cheeks in his hands and giving you a proper kiss. You moaned quietly, and Ron pushed you back to lay down on the couch, his lips separating from yours to continue pressing kisses down your body. He licked his lips as he reached your cunt, slipping your panties off to press a few teasing kisses to your inner thighs before moving your pussy, already wet with arousal. You held your breath, watching as he caressed the sides of your thighs, until suddenly, a phone started ringing.

Ron jumped up at the sound, abandoning you on the couch to find the source of the noise. He shot you an apologetic look as he read the name on the screen, answering the man on the other side of the line. Ron began nodded and humming along to whatever he had to say, and occasionally rolling his eyes in amusement too. Sighing, you slid your underwear back into place and sat up on the couch, stealing another pancake to nibble on. Ron hung up the phone and rushed towards you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before he was snatching a pancake and saying “I have to go, I’m sorry love.”

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s okay. Don’t be a stranger.” Ron grinned, looking back at you as he opened your front door. “Oh trust me, I still haven't started with you.”

When Ron apparated to his apartment, he was met with three awaiting figures already sitting at his dining table. “I forgot, I’m sorry.” Seamus laughed as he unpacked the pastries they had bought, snatching the pancake from Ron's hand and tossing it aside. Hermione’s arms were crossed over her chest as she took in Ron’s appearance with amused eyes, and Neville responded to Ron’s comment with a shake of his head. “This was what I’m spending my days off on.” “Oh, calm it Nev, you’re a teacher.”

But as Ron sat down, he realised there was someone missing. Harry Potter. Ron paid no mind to Harry’s absence, used to his best friend’s disregard for punctuality. “So, how did it go last night?” Teased Seamus, shooting Ron a look from the corner of his eye. Hermione grinned fully now, nodding towards Ron’s chaotic appearance. The man hadn’t even thought of checking what he looked like in one of the many mirrors in your flat, but he was positive anyone could tell that he had fucked someone the night before.

“You guys won’t believe it. I think I met the love of my life.”

Neville’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the revelation. If Ron was making such a bold statement, it had to be true because he was never the one to fall for someone so easily. “Let me show you guys.” Ron fished in his pocket for his phone, pulling up the selfie you had taken last night in bed. Seamus snorted as he took the phone from Ron’s hands, swiping to see the image of you kissing his cheek. “You seriously took a selfie after shagging?” At those words, Hermione snatched the phone from across the table, putting it in the middle of her and Neville so the boy could see the image.

But as Hermione observed the image of you more closely, looking at the one where you both smiled into the camera, her jaw completely dropped. “Ron.” Hermione gasped, looking straight up at her friend with wide eyes. “What? Hermione, what!?” Hermione shut the phone off, handing it to Ron as she finally stated “That’s Harry’s step-daughter.” Unanimous gasps shot out in the room and Seamus choked on his drink.

“You’re lying to me.”

“Why would I lie to you about that!?”

“Oh Godric, Harry’s going to kill me. I thought his step-daughter was young!? She’s not a minor is she?”

Hermione looked at Ron with a disapproving gaze “You slept with her without asking how old she is!?”

“She said she was 25! But that doesn’t make sense if she’s Harry’s step-daughter!”

Hermione snatched Ron’s phone off the table, unlocking it and returning to the photo album. Ron did a double take “You know my pass-” But his words were interrupted as Hermione shoved his own phone in his face, the image you had taken staring back at him. “Ron, does this girl seriously look 25 to you?”

“I’d fall for it.” Defended Seamus, shrugging his shoulders. “Of course you would. But you got lucky with this one Ron, she turned nineteen like two days ago.”

Ron felt as though his eyes bulged out of his face at the discovery, and for a moment he just stared back at Hermione. “How on earth am I going to marry Harry’s step-daughter?” A silence took over the room as the door closed, and Ron slowly turned his face towards the front door, panic overtaking his features as Harry Potter, boy who lived, killer of Voldemort, walked into the room.

“How are you going to what!?”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony

[nnnaaahhhiiiaaa]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐭.2 - choi seung-hyun

Summary | Now that you know who your secret admirer is, the two of you go on a small date.

Pairing | Bully! Choi Seung-hyun x Fem! Reader.

Genre | 2000s school era.

Warnings | Fluff, veeery romantic.

Author's note | English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

Honestly, you never would’ve expected it. You never thought a few letters could change your perspective so much. But here you were, trapped in thoughts and emotions you didn’t know how to handle. And, strangely, for some reason, it didn’t completely disgust you.

During class, your mind wandered. It was hard to concentrate because every time you could, your eyes would find him. It wasn’t something you were looking for, but it happened inevitably. And though you tried to look away, a part of you stayed focused on him.

You hated to admit it, but you knew the truth: you had fallen for the person who had been sending you letters without you knowing his name. Now that you knew it was Seung-hyun, you refused to accept those feelings. But inside, you knew that denial was costing you more than you wanted to accept.

You decided to talk to your best friend to distract yourself a little, but that didn’t help much either. She, with her mischievous smile, couldn’t help but bring up Seung-hyun, the letters, and the expensive gifts. She was subtly pushing you to take the first step and approach him.

“Come on, girl. I know you’re dying to talk to him and tell him about the letters.”

Mi-eun looked at you with a teasing smile, enjoying your reaction too much.

“Stop it, Mi-eun.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “We’re supposed to not get along. I don’t know why he sent me those letters… He didn’t even seem like the one writing them.”

Mi-eun didn’t insist anymore. She just shared a meaningful look before letting the topic fade. You both waited for class to end, eager to head home and relax.

When the moment finally came, you followed your usual routine. You changed your shoes at the locker and prepared to leave. This time, you were calmer. You didn’t expect more letters or gifts. After all, everyone knew who had been sending them.

But apparently, that didn’t matter to Seung-hyun.

Because there it was. Another letter.

“What? But…” You murmured, confused.

The envelope rested in your locker, untouched, as if it had been waiting for you. With trembling hands, you took it and opened it quickly. This time, the scent was unmistakable. A faint trace of cologne that he always wore.

Your pulse quickened.

Impatiently, your eyes scanned the words written in a familiar handwriting.

“For you, one last time,

I suppose it doesn’t make sense to hide anymore. You know who I am.

I didn’t plan for you to find out this way, but now that you have… I don’t see why I should keep avoiding the inevitable.

I know you probably still don’t understand why I did this. Maybe you think it was a joke or that I’m not the kind of person who would write something like this. But the truth is, every word you’ve read was sincere.

I don’t expect an immediate response. I don’t expect this to change what you think of me overnight. But I want a chance.

If you’re willing to listen, I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at Cheonggyecheon Park at 6:00 p.m. Just you and me.

If you don’t go, I’ll understand.

But if you do… I promise you won’t regret it.

— Seung-hyun”

Your eyes remained fixed on the letter, your thoughts racing at full speed. You couldn’t stop thinking about how all of this felt so… unreal. The guy you barely ever talked to, the one who annoyed you with his arrogant attitude, was now inviting you out, for a date. And the most surreal part of it all was that, despite everything, a part of you felt an odd excitement as you read his words.

The heat rushed to your cheeks so fast you couldn’t even control it. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You looked around, nervous, afraid someone might see you like this, so exposed. But at least, to your relief, the hallway was practically empty. There was no one left. It was the perfect time to process what you’d just read.

But then, just when you thought you were safe, Mi-eun appeared out of nowhere, her energy overflowing. Without thinking, you grabbed her arm and pulled her toward you, seeking comfort in her presence.

“Mi-eun, he sent me another letter…” you whispered quickly, your heart still in your throat. The paper felt heavy in your hands, as if you were carrying a huge revelation.

“What?!” Mi-eun let out a shriek, making you jump. But you quickly gave her a light tap on the arm, silently asking her to lower her volume. You didn’t want to attract attention, but the excitement on her face left no doubt she was as surprised as you were. “Sorry, sorry. But, another? Didn’t you already know who it was?”

You lowered your head, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. What you felt was confusing. Part of you still couldn’t believe it was him, the guy you’d considered arrogant and annoying so many times. But at the same time, a spark of curiosity grew inside you.

“Yes, but this time…” you stopped for a second, looking at the letter in your hand as if you were searching for an answer in the words written. “He asked me to meet him at Cheonggyecheon Park.”

Mi-eun’s expression changed instantly. Her face lit up with a smile so big you could almost hear it from far away. You knew what that meant. You knew she wouldn’t let it go until you figured it out, and she’d pressure you with questions until you agreed to the date.

“WHAT? Cheonggyecheon Park?” she repeated, her eyes shining with excitement. It was so obvious she was enjoying every second of your confusion.

You looked at the letter again, as if hoping the words would change, that it would all be a joke, but no. It was clear. It was real.

“Yes…” you responded, with a sigh, feeling a mix of uncertainty and excitement taking over you. Mi-eun didn’t take long to start jumping up and down, excited.

“Oh my God! This is epic!” she said, almost shouting at you, as if she were living the situation instead of you.

You covered your face with your hands, though you knew there was no way to hide what you were feeling. Not only because now Seung-hyun knew you knew who he was, but because the date seemed more real than ever.

“Mi-eun… I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” you confessed, a sigh escaping your lips. You knew this would change everything. The letters, the mystery, now everything was about to become much more personal.

Mi-eun looked at you, her eyes gleaming with complicity.

“Ready? Who needs to be ready? You’re going, of course! And you’ll see how all this gets even more interesting.”

You sighed. You knew there was no escape. And even less, because you knew Mi-eun would be your personal stylist tomorrow.

The next day arrived faster than you expected. With it came the bags of clothes you had bought with Mi-eun the previous afternoon.

You weren’t exactly a fashion expert. Most of your wardrobe consisted of hand-me-downs from your older sisters, which had never bothered you. In your family, there were no unnecessary luxuries or excessive spending on superficial things like brand-name clothing. Your mother had always done everything possible to support the family since your father passed away four years ago, and you never wanted to be an extra burden.

But this time was different. This time, for some reason, you had agreed to buy something just for yourself. And although the idea still felt a little strange, you had to admit it excited you more than you had expected.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" Mi-eun asked, holding up an outfit with evident satisfaction.

It consisted of a long-sleeved black sweater that left the shoulders bare, a brown plaid skirt that reached just above the knees, elegant black shoes, and a beret in the same color as the skirt. The combination was simple, but it had a sophisticated and feminine air that you would never have chosen for yourself.

"Wow, you really know fashion," you commented with a light laugh, surprised at how well all the pieces fit together.

"Obviously." Mi-eun smiled proudly. "Now try it on, come on."

You didn’t argue and went to the mirror after putting it on. The image your reflection returned left you speechless. You weren’t the type to dress up too much, but you had to admit the outfit suited you better than you imagined.

"What did I tell you?" Mi-eun clicked her tongue, triumphant. "It looks perfect on you. Seung-hyun is going to go crazy when he sees you."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile.

Time advanced mercilessly, and soon the clock hands marked 5:45 p.m.

"Alright, it’ll be six soon. You’d better head out now," Mi-eun urged, giving you a thumbs-up with an enthusiastic smile. "Good luck!"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of nerves swirling in your stomach. Finally, you gave your friend one last smile and hurried out of the house, not wanting to risk being late.

Cheonggyecheon Park wasn’t too far away, so you decided to walk instead of taking the bus. The cool evening air brushed against your skin, and with each step, you felt your heart beating harder.

When you arrived, you spotted him immediately. Seung-hyun was already there, standing next to a lit streetlamp, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. The soft glow illuminated his face with a warm light, highlighting the gentle features of his face and the deep gleam of his dark eyes. It seemed like he had been waiting for a while because as soon as he saw you, his expression lit up with a mix of relief and admiration, as if his whole body relaxed upon confirming that you had really come.

For a moment, it felt like the entire world went silent. The distant murmur of the city, the footsteps of passersby, even the cold wind sneaking between the streets—all seemed to fade as he looked at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. His gaze traveled over every detail of your outfit, lingering just a second longer on the beret that matched your skirt, as if engraving the image into his memory. The way his eyes sparkled made heat rise to your cheeks before you could stop it.

"Wow…" he finally murmured, his voice barely a whisper that the wind almost carried away. His lips curved into a lopsided smile, one that couldn’t hide the awe in his expression. "You look beautiful."

The blush on your cheeks deepened. You weren’t used to receiving compliments like that, especially not from someone like him, whose mere presence had the power to make your heart race. You lowered your gaze slightly, playing with the sleeve of your sweater in an attempt to disguise your sudden nervousness. "Thanks," you replied softly, unable to stop a small smile from forming. "You look good too."

And it was true. He was wearing a gray turtleneck sweater, an elegant black coat that gave him a sophisticated air, and dark jeans that accentuated his natural poise. His hair fell slightly over his forehead in that perfect balance between messy and carefully styled, as if it hadn’t taken him much effort to look that good.

Seung-hyun let out a soft laugh, lowering his gaze for a second before looking back at you. There was something in his expression, something sincere and warm that made you feel special. "I’m glad you came," he said honestly. "I was afraid you’d change your mind at the last minute."

"And miss the chance to see you this nervous?" you teased, trying to lighten the tension in your chest, though deep down, you knew you were just as nervous.

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head, amused by your comment. Then, without losing that playful air that characterized him, he took a step closer, reducing the distance between you. The scent of his cologne, a mix of wood and something subtly sweet, immediately enveloped you, making your breathing slow down—a little more conscious of his proximity.

"I don’t want to sound impatient, but…" he raised an eyebrow with a smile that sent a shiver down your spine, "can I hold your hand?"

Your heart skipped a beat. The question was so simple, so innocent in essence, but the way he said it—with that soft tone and expectant gaze—made a chill run down your spine. You didn’t trust your voice, so you simply extended your hand toward him, feeling your fingers tremble slightly.

Seung-hyun took it gently, intertwining his fingers with yours in a warm, secure grip. His touch was firm but not dominant, as if he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, that you wouldn’t let go unless you really wanted to. For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stayed like that, feeling the light but significant weight of the contact, letting the night move at its own pace.

Finally, he gave your hand a small squeeze and smiled tenderly, tilting his head slightly. "Come on, there’s a place I want to show you."

As you walked together along the sidewalk illuminated by streetlights, the atmosphere took on a special warmth despite the cold night air. Seung-hyun never let go of your hand, and though at first, the contact sent a tingling sensation through your stomach, you soon got used to the comforting feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours. As you walked, the city’s bustle faded into the background, and the sound of your footsteps became the only thing perceptible in that quiet corner.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked curiously, watching his profile as he kept his gaze forward, a faint smile drawn on his lips.

"It's a surprise," he replied with an air of mystery. Then, he turned his face toward you, his eyes shimmering with an amused glint. "I promise it's worth it."

The tone of his voice and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t insist any further; you simply let him guide you, enjoying the walk and the slow pace at which you moved forward. Every now and then, his thumb would gently brush the back of your hand—an almost unconscious gesture that sent warmth spreading from your chest to the tips of your fingers.

After a few more minutes of walking, you arrived at a small park hidden between the buildings. It wasn’t luxurious or particularly striking, but it had a special charm. The streetlights cast a soft glow over the stone pathway, and the trees swayed gently with the night breeze. In the center of the park, there was a small, tranquil lake reflecting the starry sky.

"Wow…" you exhaled without realizing it, mesmerized by the view.

Seung-hyun glanced at you out of the corner of his eye with a satisfied expression. "I knew you’d like it. Not many people come here at night, so it’s a good place to find peace… and to share special moments."

His last words made your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You felt the air grow a little heavier as he, still holding your hand, led you to the edge of the lake. Seung-hyun stopped and, with a smooth yet deliberate motion, turned you slightly so that you were facing him.

"You know…" he began in a low voice, as if afraid of breaking the magic of the moment. "I've been wanting to do this for a while."

Your breathing became erratic. His hands slowly slid to your wrists, his touch firm yet delicate, as if testing how close he could get without startling you. His gaze flickered to your lips for a fleeting second before meeting your eyes again, and your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it too.

"If at any moment you want me to stop…" he left the sentence hanging, giving you the chance to step back if you wished. But you didn’t.

Instead, you raised one hand and placed it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his sweater. It was just as fast as yours. That gave you the confidence to slowly close your eyes, leaning in just a few centimeters toward him.

He needed no further invitation. Seung-hyun closed the distance with gentle ease, and with a contained sigh, his lips brushed against yours in a slow, warm kiss—filled with emotions that had been held back for too long. The entire world seemed to disappear in that instant. It was just the two of you, with the reflection of the stars in the lake and the cold breeze wrapping around you in a silent embrace.

It was a sweet kiss, unhurried yet full of meaning. His hands traveled up to your face, holding it tenderly as he deepened the kiss with care, as if wanting to etch every second into his memory. And you reciprocated with the same intensity, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of being exactly where you wanted to be.

When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested against each other. Seung-hyun smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"Definitely worth the wait," he murmured with a playful smile, making you laugh softly as warmth crept back into your cheeks.

And in that moment, under the starry sky, with his hand still holding yours, you knew that this night would be engraved in your memory forever.

@leni111

[rosemaryhoney27]

Danny: Leaning forward, excited No, no, hear me out! Dani is my clone, right? She’s technically my DNA, but she’s also her own person. So, in a way, she’s like my daughter.

Tim: Reluctantly nodding …That tracks more than I want to admit.

Danny: And then there’s Dan. He’s technically me but older and evil. If we follow comic book logic—

Duke: Holding up a hand And we always do.

Danny: —then he’s either my evil future self or my messed-up son who just happens to look exactly like me.

Dick: Shaking his head This is some time travel nonsense, and I hate it.

Jason: Pointing aggressively No. Just—no. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works!

Bruce: Still deep in thought If you follow that logic, then yes, you could have technically developed ‘dad strength’ in an unconventional way.

Jason: Gesturing wildly WHY ARE YOU ENTERTAINING THIS?!

Steph: Still laughing I mean, it makes sense. He has the ‘unexplained parental strength’ thing going on. That’s literally how Bruce works.

Cass: Nods Ghost dad.

Damian: Muttering I hate everything about this conversation.

Tim: Sipping his energy drink, resigned So what you’re saying is… Danny somehow has dad strength through sheer ghost nonsense?

Danny: Grinning smugly And you all doubted me.

Bruce: Looking at Danny, now determined We should train.

Danny: Nearly chokes on his burger Wait, what?

Duke: Cackling Oh, you messed up, dude.

Jason: Still distressed No, what’s messed up is that this twig is somehow stronger than me!

Danny: Still panicked No, seriously, what do you mean ‘train’?

Bruce: Serious Bat glare If you have dad strength, I need to test its limits.

Danny: Slowly realizing what he’s gotten himself into Oh, this was a mistake.

Danny: Eyes widening in realization Oh no.

Bruce: Cracks knuckles Oh yes.

Danny: Immediately tries to bolt Nope! I take it back, I don’t want to test my limits! My limits are good where they are!

Dick: Laughing Oh man, I’ve never seen someone run so fast.

Cass: Shrugs Not fast enough.

Before Danny could even make it three steps, Bruce effortlessly snatched him up like a sack of potatoes and slung him over his shoulder. Danny, who barely weighed 100 pounds soaking wet, didn’t even stand a chance.

Danny: Flailing weakly Noooo! Betrayal! Treachery! Someone help me!

Duke: Filming the entire thing Yeah, I’m helping by recording this.

Jason: Crossing his arms, still fuming You deserve this.

Tim: Nods Yeah, if you’re gonna claim dad strength, you gotta back it up.

Danny: Still squirming It was a joke! I take it back! I’ll admit I cheated or something! Let me goooo!

Bruce: Calmly walking toward the training room Too late. You’ve made a claim. Now we see if it holds up.

Damian: Smirking slightly If he survives, I may consider acknowledging him as competent.

Steph: Wiping away tears of laughter Oh man, I can’t believe Bruce just yeeted him like that.

Cass: Nods Effortless.

Danny: Kicking his legs uselessly I regret everything.

Jason: Watching them disappear down the hallway You know what? I hope Bruce does break him. Maybe that’ll make me feel better.

Duke: Still recording This is my new favorite video.

Dick: Grinning I can’t wait to see how this turns out.

Steph: Still giggling So… when do you think we’ll hear the first scream?

-Two minutes later-

Danny: OH GOD, WHY IS HE SO STRONG?!

Tim: Checks watch Huh. Faster than I expected.

Dad strength

Jason: Ugghhh, I can't believe I lost to an old man. Bruce is like 50 something. How is he so strong?

Bruce: I am 40.

Jason: Potato potato. Same shit.

Dick: To be fair, he beats all of us in arm wrestling. And I think he is putting his Batman face but he doesn't even twitch while wrestling with you.

Jason: Way to rub in the salt, dickhead. Do any of you wanna go?

Damian: And humiliate myself? I have self respect Todd.

Tim: Yeah, no. I'm already running low on my energy drink. I don't think I can even lift a finger right now.

Cass: I am agile, not strong. If Jason can't beat him, I probably can't too.

Steph: How are you so strong anyway?

Bruce: Dad strength.

Jason: Bullshit.

Dick: Dad strength is real?

Damian: Is that why you keep bringing in new children, father?

*Entering the living room*

Duke: Hey, guys. Danny's here. He has some burgers with him.

Danny: Way to rat out my lunch, dude.

Duke: You have like 2 dozen burgers there. Ain't no way you are eating all of that.

Danny: You don't know that. I could totally eat all of this.

Duke: Sure you can. What are all of you doing on the coffee table? And why does Jason look like he wants to shoot Bruce.

Steph: He lost to Bruce in arm wrestling.

Tim: And Bruce says the only reason he is strong is because of Dad strength.

Duke: You're exaggerating. Bruce can't be that strong.

-2 minutes later-

Duke: I take back what I say.

Danny: Oh I want to try. I've been lifting a lot recently. Look at this. *Flex almost nonexistent muscle*

Tim: Yeah, sure dude. Looks great.

Damian: Your sarcasm is dripping, Drake. And there is no way you are beating father, Fenton.

Danny: Oh just you wait.

-1 minute later-

Jason: What The Fuck.

Dick: You're joking, Bruce. Tell me you're joking.

Jason: There is no fucking way I am weaker than this twink. He looks more malnourished than when I was a street kid.

Damian:*Frowns heavily*

Steph and Cass: *Laughing at Jason's, Bruce's and Dick's shocked face*

Tim: How are you so strong?

Danny: Dad strength.

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow” or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[gregheiferly]

LOVEY-DOVEY

first comes love

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. established relationship, hurt to comfort, angst, fluff, leon’s mental problems, future smut, ddlg

note. the first of hopefully 3 chapters?!! i have lost the ability to write im ngl,,, i promised this fic over a year ago and never got it out but i forced myself thru it bc it’s been sitting around like unfinished for a year LMFAO so it’s clunky.. doesn’t make sense… and also i do want to make clear this isn’t supposed to be a baby and marriage = happy marriage sort of fic i just see that ending for this couple in particular.. anyway ignore typos,, ignore any mistakes and pretend it makes sense. feedback / rbs always appreciated!

i would also appreciate if you read this post about plagiarism by a user on both tumblr and ao3

lovey dovey

“I used to hear Hola! and jump—Oh, gosh, I’m not racist or anything, I voted—“ Ashley adjusts her monogrammed scarf, looking at him with her new face. It’s the same, but different. Tighter, brighter, when her eyes widen her brows don’t raise and when she pouts her chin doesn’t dimple. 

“Ashley.” Leon interrupts to get her back on track before it gets any worse. 

D.C. does its best to dampen his mood, torrential rain soaking him to the bone, but you’re wearing these tiny winter booties that make his day a little better. 

“I just bet, I mean I know Leon never tells you anything about Spain, or anything at all.” She waves her hands in a flourish, not a hair out of place. “I signed an NDA, I don’t know how long they last, but I’m sure it must be over by now, I don’t really believe in them to be honest–What is a piece of paper going to do? I mean, it’s not like the piece of paper knows who I’m telling.” 

“She’s too little to know,” Leon says out of instinct. He takes the role of Daddy very seriously these days. 

“Leon.“ You frown at him, it’s so cute he’ll think about it for hours. 

“Sorry.” Is all he can come up with. 

“Anyways, I wanted to ask about plans,” Ashley says, the exchange going unheard by her. 

(If she’s not talking she doesn’t really seem to care about the conversation at hand.)

“Plans?” Leon doesn’t follow, and neither do you.

“Oh, you know.” She dabs at the corner of her lip with a handkerchief that matches her scarf, her lipstick leaves a pink smear on the edge of her cup. It’s heart-shaped. Fucking Cupid over here. “Haven’t you ever thought about babies, Leon? You’re pretty old now.” 

That’s not her card to play. Shouldn’t he be asking her about babies? She’s only getting older, not many eggs left in her basket. But, y’know, that’s not very PC, and Leon really isn’t that bad. He’d like nothing more than for her to move at her own pace - it was hard enough seeing Sherry grow up, passing her off to a guy nearly ten years younger than her—And Leon is in no place to talk about age gaps, but guys are immature and stupid, he would know.

“Ashley,” he interrupts once more, though he has nothing to say at all. Marriage. Babies. Jesus Christ, you are the baby. He’s got jackets older than you. 

“We haven’t thought about it—I mean, I ask him about it sometimes, but nothing serious,” you tell her honestly, the corners of your mouth drooping downwards in a frown.

You are one unhappy little girl and he is in for one hell of a ride back home. 

“I never make plans that far ahead,” he says, rehearsed, before your soured mood runs off the edges of your face and into the rest of the room. Distemper in a dogfighting ring. 

“Hm.” You make a noise beside him, knee bumping his under the table. It’s a touchy subject. An untouchable subject, actually, because he refuses to sit down and talk about it, he shuts it down immediately. You can’t make babies with a baby, that’s just plain wrong. 

(But you can fuck said baby every which way. You can spit in the baby’s mouth and spank her raw. That’s perfectly normal.) 

“The next time I see you, Leon, it better be at your wedding,” Ashley warns him, a burnt orange blazer draped over her slender shoulders as she primps herself up enough to face a camera or two. “I’m happy to help with, well, with everything, I have a lot of time and money to waste so don’t think you’re bothering me. Oh and another thing—Leon?”

“Yeah?” He shifts from foot to foot, the arm circling your waist drops to his side limply. 

“You can call me anytime, you know that, right?” She stares at him, right through him with her big brown eyes. “And you know I can see when you’ve read my texts, right?” 

Leon nods stiffly, he stands there like a fucking scarecrow when she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I know,” he mumbles into perfumed hair. 

When you ask him, “Why didn’t you hug her back?”

He tells you, “I didn’t want to make you jealous.”

“I don’t get jealous.” That’s right. You’re a very self-assured little girl with your head screwed on right, he can’t go around telling such obvious lies. 

“Dunno, just felt weird,” Leon admits, plucking the fuzz off your sweater to keep his hands busy, “haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“That’s your fault.” You walk ahead and he knows you’re pissed. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

The air crackles with tension, heavy enough to shift the layout of Leon’s home a little to the left—Or maybe you really have gone and done that without telling him, taking over his world with parts of your own - it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. That’s got to be some form of gaslighting. He can’t even see the TV from this angle. 

“Baby?” Leon calls out.

You poke your head out of the kitchen. 

“Did you move my chair to the left or am I losing it?” He shifts in his seat, moves from left to right, leans back to try and understand what has gone on. 

“You’re losing it, I moved it to the right.” You wipe your wet hands on your skirt, it borders on frumpy, makes your hips look even wider. He pretends that he hasn’t ever thought about knocking you up. 

“Why, baby?” You’re testing his patience, being short with him, huffing and puffing and sticking your nose in the air.

“Because it looks better, but I can’t do it when you’re home ‘cause you never get up.” Carefully, you edge towards him, skirting around the room until you find yourself in daddy’s lap. 

The weight is grounding, his hands find your hips in no time, fingers dimpling the fat as he squeezes down to ease whatever is going on inside of him. “You can’t stay mad at me, baby.”

“Yes I can.” 

“Who’s gonna take care of you then, hm?” Leon asks, sliding his cold hands under shirt to grope your heavy tits. He pretends that he hasn’t thought about running his fingers over your lace bra to find milky wet patches. That he hasn’t thought about you, glassy-eyed and in desperate need of daddy’s help, pushing your leaky tits against his chest and begging him, pleading with him to take on the role of dairy farmer for the day.  

“I can take care of myself.” You shrug. So cold, so cute. “But you, daddy.” You kiss his nose. “Without me, you can’t even remember to take your meds.” 

That’s right. You did well without him. You didn’t need a daddy until you found the right daddy. You wanted a daddy so dearly, but you can take care of yourself just fine. You can pour your own juice and you can tie your laces and fix your hair just fine, it’s just better when daddy does it for you. 

“True,” Leon mumbles, he kneads your breasts contemplatively,  “but it’s good to ask daddy for things, I don’t want you getting hurt doing it on your own.” 

“I have bandaids.” Comes your rebuttal. 

“Baby, you’re being mean.” Leon’s voice verges on a whine. 

“I’m not being mean, Leon.” You let yourself melt into him, fat tits spilling through the gaps in his fingers. His hands are small and there’s too much of you to contain. “Why don’t you want to marry me?” 

That’s a loaded question. One he can’t quite answer because there’s no real answer and he doesn’t really want to answer it.

“You’re too good for me.” 

“Oh my goood,” you groan, rolling your eyes so hard you age backwards, and it really makes you look like a teenager—A little girl—It makes him feel like your father. Not your daddy, but your father. And hell, he’s old enough to play the part. 

“What?” 

“It turns me off when you say shit like that, like ohhh I’m such a old loser, I can’t even get it up, baby, why are you even with me?” You do your best Leon impression, it almost makes him smile. “You literally want everyone to feel bad for you all the time, and you know what, Leon?”

“What?” Leon says again. He’s feeling parched. Lightheaded. Sick. Psychotic. Bad. Just fucking bad. Everything gets so bad when you’re not smiling at him.

“I can’t feel bad for you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—You don’t tell anyone what’s going on so nobody feels bad for you.” You stand up, his hands are left cold and empty. “Only you feel bad for yourself, you literally sit around all day drinking and feeling shitty about sitting around and drinking—You don’t even want to do anything anymore, you didn’t even want to see Ashley today! She loves you so much, she’s your friend and you can’t even text her back because, because… Well, I don’t even know!”

“Baby—“

“You don’t go to therapy and you forget to take your meds, and, and I have to remind you all the time and—“ You take a breath, your lips moving soundlessly as you count to ten. “I don’t mind doing that for you, I like taking care of you and I like when you take care of me—It makes me happy that you let me y’know do that…” You gesture to a stray pacifier on the coffee table. “And I love you, Leon, but it’s just like you never want to fix anything, you just want to stay like this and I don’t want that, Leon—“

“Babe–“

”I told you that I wanted to get married, I told you that it would be a problem for me if you didn’t want kids, Leon—I don’t want to be with you if you don’t want that with me, I told you that before we got serious and you said yes and now—“ You throw your hands in the air, cutting yourself off with a half-aborted sob and splitting his heart right down the middle.

“It’s not like that, baby,” Leon starts gently, pushing up out of his armchair so he can hold you like you need to be held, “I didn’t… It’s not you, you know that don’t you? You’re perfect, you’re a good girl, it’s just…”

“What?” You press your face into his chest, searching for comfort as you run your hands over his back. “It’s what?”

“It’s me.” 

“Oh my god, Leon.” Your voice breaks, and you look up at him. For a minute it’s like you’re in soft-focus, like you’re a love letter gone yellow with time, sepia-stained and unspeakably tender and—and the reel is burning away because you’re too beautiful to last forever. You’re the most fragile little package, stamped to handle with care and he’s tossed you onto someone's lawn and you’re going to be plucked away by a porch pirate and—God, he’s such a fuck-up. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

Might be cliche, but it’s true. It’s him, not you. It’s always him. It’s why he’s been alone for so long. It’s not work, it’s not what happened in Spain or Talk Oaks, not even Raccoon City—Not mom, not dad, not Ada or Jack or Ashley or the fucking President, it’s not some grand, tragic circumstance—It’s just him. 

“If I marry you…” Leon’s mouth dries up while he flicks through a mental Rolodex of excuses. 

I drink too much. I’m depressed and probably bipolar. I’m infertile. You’re a baby, I can’t have babies with a baby. You’re too young. I’m too old. Especially for kids. I look like I could be your dad. I’m suicidal and needy and if we have kids what if you like them more than me? I work a lot. What if I put our kids in danger? What if I put you in danger? What if I’m a shit dad? What if you stop liking me after we tie the knot? You’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you and you want to marry an old man? You should leave me for someone younger. Please don’t leave me. 

All of it is true, although none of it is an honest answer to your question—The answer is quite simple really—Leon won’t marry you because he refuses to be happy. 

“If I marry you,” he says again, eyes flickering from your eyes to your pout, “what will Sherry think?” 

Your hands are in tight fists by your sides, bottom

lip trembling as you struggle to remain impassive—And he knows you like the back of his hand, like the veins in his dick—That wrinkled nose could only mean one thing. You’re not about to cry, you’re mad at him. 

“Leon.” Your jaw tightens, grinding your teeth into a fine powder. “You know Sherry isn’t thinking about you, right?”

“How could you say that?” He asks, somewhere between hurt and confused. 

“I’m just… Like, fuck, Leon!” You angle your face away from him, cycling through every stage of grief as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not about what Sherry wants or what she’s thinking or whatever, it’s about what I want and what you want.” 

“But—“

“She isn't a part of our relationship, Leon, nobody is.” You tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling and squeezing your eyes shut. Praying or doing a breathing exercise. “Like… Like you don’t like Jake and she still married him because he makes her happy, Leon—Why don’t you want to be happy with me, Leon?”

“I am happy,” he lies. 

“Don’t lie to me, Leon—Do I not make you happy, is that what it is?” You look at him helplessly and he stands there with nothing to say. 

“You do make me happy,” Leon insists softly, you’re the only thing that makes him happy. Light of his life, apple of his eye, the centre of his whole entire world.

“I just don’t get it anymore, Leon.” 

Oh, god.

“I don’t… I made it clear that I wanted something serious, I want to marry you and I want to have kids with you—I don’t get why you would lead on me like that.” You cross your arms over your chest, bracing for his answer. “Has all of this been for nothing?”

To be entirely frank - Leon is being selfish. 

He’d rather keep you in limbo than let you move on with someone else. He doesn’t want to think about you in bed with someone else, calling someone else daddy, letting them touch you and take care of you—It makes him dizzy, he’s getting jealous of a guy he made up in his fucking head. You’re the only good thing in his piece of shit life and he has no intention of letting you go—He really should, and he probably would if you asked him a year ago, before the D word but now—

Leon feels out of place. 

If he’s not your daddy, then who is he? 

“You’re just… You’re just freaking out ‘cause Ashley put it in your head,” Leon retorts childishly, “we don’t need a baby to be happy.” You’re the only baby he needs to be happy. 

“Are you kidding, Leon?” Your nose is running and you wipe at your face with balled up fists. “Don’t make this about Ashley, you know that isn’t the problem—I really can’t believe you, if you're not serious about me then why are you still with me?”

Truthfully, he didn’t mean for all of this to go so far - then your toothbrush joined his, your Sylvanians found a nice spot on his mantle next to the potpourri, the whole daddy thing happened—

And all of that means that this is not a midlife crisis or a fling or a distraction. 

It means that you’re his girlfriend, the woman he loves.

“I am serious about you.” 

We just want different things, would be the right way to put it. It’s not entirely true, but Leon doesn’t know how to tell you that peace is unrecognisable to him. He doesn’t know what it feels like, it scares him, the finality of marriage and kids and all of these childish dreams he had so long ago—It’s scary, and it takes a lot and Leon could shoulder the whole fucking world if he had to and the whole fucking world is a lot. He’s done it before. Jesus Christ, he’s fought creatures that go beyond the scope of human understanding, but all of it comes to an end. Fights end. Missions get completed. Damsels are saved and monsters are slain and Leon gets home okay as he can be. 

But this… Marriage. There’s no way out—Like, there’s divorce, obviously, but something about marriage is permanent. He can’t shoot a gun and get out of a marital dispute, and he can’t outrun a missed birthday because ultimately he has to come home to you.

Coming home to you sounds good. It is good. It’s the reason he bothers coming home after work instead of bumming around in bars like he used to. But, but, but it’s about trust and working together and while nothing will really change you’ll legally own him and he’ll legally be yours and that’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young to take on and technically you’re already doing all of these responsible things for him and—Marriage is just different, okay?

“I don’t think you are, Leon.” You blink at him slowly, sadly. 

“I am,” Leon insists because he is serious about this. About you. He loves you and he knows that, but he’s fine with what you have now. Girlfriend-Boyfriend. Daddy and baby. “I am, baby, but don’t you think that we're moving into this too fast?”

“It’s been two years, Leon.” Another slow, sad blink, you look off to the side. “I told you I was dating to marry, Leon, I told you what I wanted, I want kids with you—And I’m sorry but you’re not getting any younger, if you’re just wasting my time—“

Something sharp and ugly takes hold of his chest. ”You just think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a baby, that's all you want from me.” That isn’t what Leon wanted to say, but the room is getting too small and that struck a fucking nerve. 

“Excuse me?” 

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A rotten sole-crushed peach, that's all he is, it’s true. And he doesn’t deserve you, but he doubles down selfishly. “You think I’m gonna blow my brains out before I give you a kid,” he repeats, “that’s why you’re freaking out about this now.” Leon’s so very talented at fucking things up. Paperwork, his liver, his entire fucking life. 

“No… That’s not—Are you kidding me? Is that all you got from this, Leon?” You’re looking at him with these accusatory eyes and you’re not calling him daddy or tugging at the back of his shirt for attention. “How could you say that about me? Is that what you think of me?”

Leon would like to say no and he’d like to apologise, instead he fumes silently, teeth clenched so tightly they’ve started to ache. “C’mon, use your big girl words and tell me the truth.” He’s not very tall, but he’s taller than you - he looks down his nose at you. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Leon.” The shift in his behaviour is new, you’re used to his self-loathing, his laziness and reluctance and his general unlikeability, but this—Leon has never been mad at you, and he doesn’t want to be mad at you and he’s more mad at himself than he is you—But still, like, he looks mad at you and he can see the way you’re trembling, puffing out your chest and standing your ground to appear so much bigger than you are. It breaks his heart, he’s the worst daddy ever. The most dick-headed jerk of a boyfriend and you’re still here. Fighting for him, well, with him, you’re here and you’re fighting with him, that’s still something. 

“Why not?” Leon tilts his head to the side, his face softening in faux confusion. “You like it so much, don’t you?”

God, maybe he’s not so normal after all, and you haven’t fixed him, and bad thoughts always come back, and if he was normal he wouldn’t be wanting to jump off every balcony and walk into every main road and disappear into bodies of water.

Leon isn’t normal. Big surprise.

He’s just starting to realise that it doesn’t matter how many people love him, it doesn’t matter how many medals he’s awarded, it doesn’t matter that he’s a treasure to some degree, an old gun worth keeping—None of it matters, Leon realises, none of it will ever fucking matter because he is who he is. 

Leon is going to lead a miserable dogshit life because he can and he will and it doesn’t matter how many good or bad things happen to him, it doesn’t matter who he falls asleep next to - he’ll still feel shitty in the morning. 

(At the end of the day, he’s a Kennedy, and no Kennedy has ever been particularly lucky.) 

“I’m trying to be serious, Leon, and you’re acting like a child!” Your bottom lip quivers, and you’re probably wondering where your daddy has gone. “I can’t… I can’t believe you’re talking to me like that right now.” 

Neither can Leon. 

Guilt coils in his gut like a snake, constricting and hissing in the back of his head that he should know better, he’s so much older, he’s your daddy, and he’s meant to take care of you. That’s what daddies are for.  

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to force you into this, Leon, I don’t want to make you marry me if you don’t want me—“ He does want you. He wants you so bad. “—I don’t want to force you to have kids with me if you’re not ready, I just wish you had told me before I moved in with you—“ The hurt that crosses your face strikes him right in the heart, teardrops beading your gossamer lashes. 

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, quietly, earnestly, not daring to take a step closer because he doesn’t deserve to feel you or smell you or touch you, “I want to be with you, I love you.” 

“I don’t know anymore, Leon.” You look to him helplessly, blinking up at him with these big doleful eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, equally as helpless, “I don’t know.” 

He’s your daddy, he’s meant to know, but he doesn’t, so he just stands there like an idiot. 

“I’m sad,” you tell him honestly, “I’m going to go upstairs now.”

Leon goes to follow you.

“Don't follow me.”

Leon goes back to standing there like a fucking idiot. 

[dreamdragonkadia]

Requested by @that-choir-girl I hope you enjoy! I'm so sorry it took me a minute to get to this. p.jackson/apollo!reader

It was a stupid hope.

Thinking Luke would come to his senses. That maybe the boy who once taught you how to shoot an arrow before you'd even been claimed would look at you—really look—and remember who he used to be.

But, he didn’t.

You hadn’t told anyone what he asked of you. Not Annabeth. Not Chiron. Definitely not Percy.

The guilt sat in your stomach like a rock. You hadn’t said a word about Luke’s offer—about his plan, about Kronos. You kept it buried, hoping it would fade.

You’d always been angry at the gods. At your father for waiting so long to claim you. But this? Joining Kronos? No. That line, at least, you wouldn’t cross.

Then Luke took Percy. Lured him away like it was nothing.

You didn’t even think. Couldn't think. You just ran—Annabeth and Grover close behind—praying to any god who might listen that you weren’t already too late.

'Please, please, please.'

You found them just as the sun was bleeding into the trees, orange and gold and too beautiful for how wrong everything felt.

Percy was on his knees. Sweating, pale, barely upright. And Luke was behind him, Backbiter angled at his throat.

“Don’t move,” Luke said, eyes locking on yours.

You froze, heart hammering. Grover's breathing went nonexistent beside you. Annabeth didn’t even blink, gripping her dagger like a lifeline.

One wrong step and that cursed blade would tear through Percy like paper.

“Luke,” you said, carefully. “Let him go.”

His grip tightened. “You should’ve joined me.”

“You’re hurting people.”

“I’m making things right.”

“By poisoning him?” Annabeth snapped, stepping forward.

Luke tilted his head like it’s no big deal. Like this was another day. “He’ll last long enough.”

You barely heard him. Your eyes were locked on Percy now—on the sickly purple veins crawling up from the gash in his side. Backbiter’s poison. You can practically feel it burning through his bloodstream.

Then Percy’s eyes flick to your side.

It’s subtle. Barely a twitch. But you know him well enough to understand.

A signal.

With whatever strength he had left, Percy slammed his shoulder into Luke’s leg, knocking him off balance just enough.

It’s all you need.

Annabeth moves first—quick as lightning, dagger drawn. Grover’s right behind her, charging like a goat possessed.

And you?

You go straight to Percy.

You drop to your knees beside him, tuning out the clash of the fight behind you.

His skin was burning. His lips were pale. He blinked up at you, slow and dazed, like he was trying to figure out if you were real.

“You came,” he murmured.

“Of course I did,” you whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “What, like I was gonna let you die out here?”

He gave a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh—or a wheeze. “Not… my best day.”

You pressed your hands to the wound at his side. The magic came instinctively—warmth building in your chest and pouring into him, chasing the venom like light through smoke. Your father’s power was supposed to be sunlight and music. Right now, it felt more like fire and desperation.

Percy jerked under your hands, gasping. But he didn’t pull away.

You kept going until the poison was gone.

Behind you, there’s a grunt and a thud—then silence.

You turned to see Luke on the ground, Annabeth’s dagger at his throat, her eyes wild with fury. Grover stood nearby, panting hard, looking like he’d just headbutted a freight train.

Luke’s gaze flicked to you.

And for one second—just one—he looked like the boy you used to know. The one who showed you how to notch an arrow. The one who laughed with you by the campfire like the world was never going to end.

Then he moved.

Fast.

With a twist of his arm, an elbow to Annabeth’s ribs, and he was on his feet before anyone could stop him. She lunged after him, but he was already backing into the shadows of the trees.

“They’ll fail you again,” he warned, breath ragged. “And when they do… you’ll come looking for me.”

Then he vanished into the trees.

Percy slumped forward the moment he was gone, like his body had been held together by sheer will and now that will had snapped.

You caught him before he could hit the ground, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured.

He let out a shaky, warm breath against your neck. For a second, you thought he’d already passed out—until you felt his fingers curl gently into your shirt.

“Hey…” he whispered. “You’re not gonna… disappear too, right?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean…” He swallowed hard. “Could you… maybe stay? Just for a little while? I— I don’t really wanna be alone right now. Not after everything.”

There was something so soft, so Percy in the way he said it—like he was embarrassed to ask, like needing someone made him feel guilty.

You didn’t let him finish the thought.

“Of course,” you said, tucking your hand behind his head, gently guiding it to your shoulder. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned into you, heavy and warm and still trembling slightly.

The walk back to camp was slow. He pressed into your side the entire way, head tucked into the crook of your neck like it was the only place that felt safe, one arm looped around your shoulders.

At some point, his hand found yours and didn’t let go.

You didn’t make him.

And honestly… you didn’t want to.

[igotanidea]

My level of messy: Jason Todd x reader

„What are you doing?”

A simple question dictated by unusual circumstances.

Any other Saturday morning, Y/N would be all over the place, huffing and puffing, cleaning the dust, vacuuming and doing all the things that usually came with weekly cleaning up the place.

That day, however, she was sitting on the couch, with something in her hands, looking –

Well it was hard to put it into words.

So he didn’t, instead plopping next to her, sending her a few inches up due to the impact.

“I’m re-reading my old journal.”

“Ok.” Jason nodded. The silence that fell after that acknowledgment was his attempt at giving her a chance to elaborate. “Aaaaaand? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!”

“Mhm. Same accusation, same answer every time.”

“I am not-“

“Y/n/n, we’ve been through it a million times before.” He rolled his eyes “save us both some time sweetheart, and explain it, so I can make it better for ya, huh?”

“You’re gonna laugh-“

“Mh. Yeah. Sure. I’m gonna laugh at my soon-to-be-fiancé watering her eyes out. This is how big she thinks of me. That’s just effing great!”

“Stop being dramatic and – wait. Whoa, whoa. Hold back. Rewind. Soon-to-be-fiancé?”

“Not the point. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not-“

“Ah!” Jason groaned and before she realized what was happening she was being held down on the couch, with him hovering over her like a freaking predator with dangerously glistening eyes, tickling her side.

“Jason!”

“Talk or I’ll hold you captive forever.” His fingers were mercilessly rubbing her side making her giggle.

“But I am literally not crying now!”

“Talk!”

“Will you let go first?”

“No.”

“But-“

“Talk!”

“God!” she groaned, trying to wriggle and make herself a little more comfortable

“I mean it, princess, talk or-“

“You do realize your threats have no effect on – AAH! Ah! Stop! Fine! Fine, I’ll talk, just stop tickling!”

“Good girl. Now – what is the reason behind you trying to make yourself unhappy huh?” he brushed away tears from her cheeks, helping her sit up, now having made sure she won’t deflect anymore.

“It’s just – “ she sighed “do you ever feel like hugging your younger self?”

“Hugging my-“

“Don’t look so shocked. Do you? Actually, you know what, do not answer that question, it’s stupid-“

“Yeah.” He cut her off with one word, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do feel like – well – maybe not hugging but at least saying some nice shit to that rascal.”

“Right…”

“I see a piece of my past self in every kid I stumble upon in the Crime Alley.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Big bad red hood getting all emotional. See what you did to me?”

“Well, for the record, it’s your fault. We were talking about me and then you just hijacked the conversation, acting like you’re a victim or something – “

“You’re so selfish, did I tell you that?”

“Not today, no.”

“Well, you’re selfish princess.”

“I am but a lady in distress and you refuse to help a lady in distress with offering a strong arm.”

“I’m not prince charming, Y/n/n. I am Red Hood.”

“You could be a red prince charming?”

“If you’re hinting at Deadpool, then let me tell you not a benchmark when it comes to Disney princes.”

She laughed softly, her mood becoming a little better, just by this banter, any outside would deem mean and harsh on both of their parts.

“Fine. Fine, have it your way” he raised hands in surrender. “What were you crying about – oh, wait, you call me inconsiderate but I think I actually did ask you that before-“

“I can’t remember.” She chuckled.

“You can’t remember why you were crying?” Jason frowned a little, sensing some sort of trap

“Yes.”

“Um… no?”

“Um… is this one of those situations when you pretend to have temporary sclerosis and then remind me of the tiny mistake I made a year ago on Monday, at 11.25?

“No!” she chuckled again “No, I’m being serious, I can’t remember. Wanna know why?”

“Because every time I feel down and like I’m a mess you come around and – “

“- prove to you that there’s a whole other level of being a mess?”

“NO!” she patted his chest in mock offense “will you let me finish the sentence!”

“Stop this domestic violence at once, young lady.” Her wrist ended up in his grip and away from any possibility of him getting abused again.

“- you come around and you prove to me that all you need in life is a person who matches  your kind of messy and crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called a partner in crime-“

“Ugh! You’re so dense! This is a whole different thing!” she opposed, becoming a little agitated, missing the obvious point that Jason was just messing with her in sheer selfish pleasure of seeing her eyes sparkle with mirth and her cheeks flushing.

“Y/N.”

“Why can’t you just understand that I’m trying to say—”

“I get it”

“No, no you don’t!” she wriggled against his hold

“Hey! Hey, stop it! Stop! Look at me!” his hands moved from her wrist to cupping her face. “I get it. Really. I know what you’re saying and I think –“

“Yeah?” she looked deep into his eyes.

“I think you’re my kind of mess too. And I think we match.”

“Like on Tinder?” she grinned pushing her luck

“God you’re impossible!!”

Yeah. So maybe it truly was about finding and keeping the person who was on the same level of craziness. The one who would understand that sometimes, healing trauma was about laughing at it and finding a way to move on with that laughter on the lips.  

[sturnsblogs]

Petty revenge PT.2

Nerd!Chris X Mean!Girl!Reader

—

Chris wasn’t talking to you.

And you noticed.

You tried. When you try, you really do try.

You had sent him apology messages the night of the party, trying to explain, trying to fix things.

— “Chris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”

— “Baby, please talk to me.”

— “I feel horrible, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

— “I love you. You know that, right?”

And all you got in return?

— “K.”

— “It’s fine.”

— “I’m busy.”

— “Whatever.”

Chris had never been like this with you before.

He was never cold. Never distant. Never the type to brush you off, to act like you didn’t matter.

But now?

Now, he barely gave you anything.

At first, you told yourself he was just being petty. That he was milking the situation, trying to make you suffer a little before he inevitably forgave you like he always did.

So you tried harder.

You showed up at his apartment with his favorite snacks, smiling at him like nothing was wrong, pressing kisses to his cheek, to his jaw, whispering, “Chris, baby, come on… don’t be like this.”

He barely reacted.

You cuddled into him when you saw him in person, running your hands over his chest, tracing shapes into his skin, whispering, “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I didn’t mean it.”

He hummed. That was it.

A simple, indifferent hum—like your words meant nothing to him.

You kissed him, desperate for something, for any sign that he was warming up to you again.

But when your lips met his?

He barely kissed back.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t him.

And when you tried to pull him closer, when you tried to deepen it, he pulled away.

You blinked, brows furrowing. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Chris exhaled, leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe because last time I cared about something, you laughed in my face?”

Your heart dropped.

“Chris, I didn’t—”

He shook his head. “Can we not? I don’t wanna talk about this.”

You swallowed, trying to push back the tightness in your throat. “I just— I just wanna fix this.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “Yeah? Well, some things don’t get fixed that fast.”

And Then He Started Hanging Out With Lauren.

You tried everything.

You sent sweet texts. You showed up at his place. You did anything you could think of to remind him that you loved him.

But Chris?

Chris was petty.

And his latest form of pettiness came in the shape of a study session with Lauren.

The same Lauren from his old study group. The same Lauren whose name had popped up on his phone once before, sparking the whole argument about whether he liked smart girls more than you.

You had made plans to see him. He was supposed to come over.

But then, an hour before he was supposed to show up—

— “Can’t come over. Gonna study with Lauren instead.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stared at the message for a long moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you finally responded.

— “What?”

— “Why?”

Chris took his time replying.

— “Because I want to.”

That was it.

No excuse. No explanation. Just a simple, dismissive because I want to.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Chris wasn’t doing this because he needed to study.

He was doing it because he knew it would piss you off.

Because he wanted you to feel what he felt.

Because this was the same toxic shit you pulled on him whenever he messed up.

And the worst part?

It was working.

And He Didn’t Stop There.

A few days later, when you finally got him to come over, he was different.

Not just cold—cocky.

You curled up beside him, desperate for any sort of affection, but he barely acknowledged it, scrolling through his phone with a smug little smirk.

You glanced at the screen. Lauren’s name.

Your stomach twisted.

Chris noticed.

And then?

He smirked.

“She’s actually really sweet, you know,” he murmured, still typing.

You stiffened. “What?”

Chris shrugged, finally setting his phone down. “Lauren.” He stretched his arms behind his head, letting out a small sigh. “She’s just… nice.”

Your jaw clenched. “Chris.”

“I mean, she actually listens when I talk,” he continued, completely ignoring your tone. “Doesn’t interrupt me or change the subject.” He tilted his head slightly, a slow smirk forming. “You know, sometimes I think you zone out when I talk about stuff I care about.”

Your stomach churned.

Chris chuckled. “Lauren doesn’t do that.”

You swallowed hard. “Chris, stop.”

He hummed, pretending to think. “She also doesn’t get annoyed when I get excited about something.” He turned to you, raising a brow. “Do you know how many times you’ve rolled your eyes at me when I try to explain something? How many times you’ve sighed like you couldn’t be bothered to care?”

You looked away. “I didn’t—”

“Lauren likes the things I talk about,” he cut in. “She actually wants to hear them. She doesn’t just tolerate them.”

Your breath hitched.

“She’s funny, too,” he added, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Not in a mean way. Not in a hurtful way. Just… naturally.” He let out a soft chuckle. “She laughs at my jokes.”

Your chest tightened. “Chris, I—”

“And she actually compliments me,” he continued like you hadn’t spoken. “You don’t do that a lot, you know.”

Your eyes burned.

Chris just smiled.

And then, just when you thought he was done—

He said it.

“Maybe I should’ve been with someone like that instead.”

The air was ripped from your lungs.

Your throat closed.

Chris didn’t take it back.

He didn’t soften. Didn’t reach for you. Didn’t say he didn’t mean it.

He just sat there, arms crossed, watching you fall apart.

And then—

He fucking smirked.

Because for the first time?

He was making you feel small.

—

A/N- should he forgive her next chapter?

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @slvtme0utt @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl l @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill

[mollywog]

Hi!

I can't stop thinking about this scenario i'm your complicated universe:

Burdock is now showing off his granddaughter.

Thank you for letting me know: I’m so tickled!! It inspired me to write a small addition.

For context, Complicated is an in-Panem AU where Mr. Everdeen lives and this would have happened anyway happens much sooner.

Shout out to all who suggested names for the Toastbaby girl for this universe!

Haymitch first saw the girl at the Hob when she was just a baby. Burdock was so proud of her, toting her everywhere. Katniss soon outgrew his arms, trailing behind him with her own scrawny squirrels on her belt, until she was striding beside him with just as much to show as her old man.

They’d never mended the old wound, he and Burdock, but he still paid particular attention to the Everdeens. That way, if Lenore Dove’s ghost ever came to him, he’d be able to tell her of her kin— at least that’s what he told himself.

And recently there’d been a new branch added to the family tree.

Haymitch had watched the girl— Katniss, over the last several months as her belly’d swelled near splitting, until he’d worked himself up worrying it’d be twins— but then he’d learned the father was one of Otho’s boys and her size had made sense.

He’s heard she delivered— a healthy little girl, but it’s just luck that he’s at the Hob today when Burdie arrives, his bundle in tow.

He doesn’t see her right away, just the unmistakable pride on his old friend’s face as he introduces her around.

Haymitch has no reason to linger, his business with Ripper complete, but he can’t resist the urge to get a peek of the girl and any information he can glean, so he sidles up to Sae’s stall and sits at the booth. He ignores the old woman’s raised brow, carelessly pulling a fistful of coins from his pocket. Gone is the bribe and the questioning looks as the bowl of something he rather not contemplate slides across the counter. He hunches over the stew, running his spoon through the sludge, straining his ears to catch crumbs as Burdock moves closer.

Bits and pieces of conversations float over the chatter and Haymitch’s chest tightens at the sound of his friend's voice, so achingly familiar and comforting despite all the years, until the girl’s name shakes him out of his revelry.

Olive?

He scoffs, frowning at Sae’s knowing smirk.

Like the food? He supposes it’s an improvement from the tuberous roots for which mother and grandfather are named…

But no, it’s not just a food. He turns the name over again. It’s a color— green— a dark yellowish green like the moss that’s begun to grow over Lenore Dove’s grave stone, though he doubts that’s what the happy parents were imagining when they picked it. Still a nod to Burdie’s family perhaps? But color alone does not a Covey name make. He briefly wonders if there’s a ballad of Olive Mellark.

He really hopes not.

But there’s still something that nags at the back of his muddled mind. He closes his eyes to clear his head, but instead an image floods his memory: the floor of a Justice building on his tour long ago— a mosaic depicting a bird with a bough — no, that's not quite right— a dove with an olive branch.

He breaks into a sweat and his stomach rolls. Unbidden, his eyes seek out the source of his distress; the tiny girl, swaddled in a dove colored blanket, with a muted orange ribbon accenting the scalloped edge.

It’s as if someone has walked over his grave— no, not his— Lenore Dove’s— but aren't they the same thing? They’re a matched pair, mated for life, more married than any piece of paper could make them. And that girl is his kin too. Beloved and endangered if he cannot fulfill his promise to Lenore Dove.

“Don’t you . . . let it . . . rise . . . on the reaping”

He stands abruptly, knocking the stool over in his wake. He gives the girl— no, Olive, one final look before retreating back to his house. He won’t waste another minute; There’s work to be done.