#and NOT when he’s having the worst spiral of his life

[emsdevs]

If you had "dragged" Jack to the Eras tour he would have pulled out a bracelet he made based on your favorite song. It's a little sloppy but it's the thought that counts. He maybe also got you a clear bracelet to signify your invisible string and held you extra close when she performed it.

a/n: so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you like it still because I had wayyy too much fun with this one 🫶

All Too Nervous (Jack's Version)

Jack had been quiet all day. Well, he’s been quiet for the past week or so really. You thought he was excited to go to the Eras Tour with you, but now you weren’t so sure. He’d sat through the grueling ticket-buying process with you, even made you use his card. He had let you buy him matching outfits as well. Jack didn’t want to do anything too crazy for his half, telling you it would be your night so you should be the star of the show. While you had gotten the cutest custom bodysuit, boots, and karma jacket (in Devils’ colors of course), he simply wore a t-shirt with “KARMA” across the chest paired with his favorite pair of jeans and his well-worn AirForces. The outfits were even his idea, taking inspiration from the line “karma is my boyfriend.” 

What you couldn’t understand is why he suddenly seemed so hesitant to go. He was much quieter than usual, and it almost seemed like he was avoiding you for the past week or so. Now, the two of you were in an Uber, heading to MetLife for the show, and it feels like Jack is somewhere else. He has his knees facing away from you, and the only reason you two are even touching is because you grabbed his hand.

————————————————————————

Jack was a nervous wreck. If he’s this nervous about something so small and possibly insignificant, how bad will it be when he proposes? He feels like he might throw up, and he’s not sure why. You’ve always made him a little nervous. He’s always wanted to impress you, but it had never been this bad, not even when he kissed you for the first time. The worst part is that he didn’t even know when he should do it. Should he do it when you two arrive at the stadium? Should it be in between sets? Should he do it during “Love Story”? No, that’s too much like a proposal. Does she perform your favorite song? He could do it then. No, then you would miss your favorite song. He was spiraling while you were excited to see one of your favorite artists. He should not be freaking out so much over a friendship bracelet.

He’d spent the last week and a half working himself to the bone to make a bracelet perfect. He knew trading friendship bracelets was a big part of the fan experience at these shows, and you had mentioned that you’d be making a few to trade and give out. That gave Jack the idea to make you a special bracelet, from him to you. He spent a concerning amount of money on beads and strings, and he listened to more Taylor Swift in that time than he had in his entire life. 

Every chance he got, he was sitting at his kitchen table, trying his best to make a bracelet he thought would be worthy of sitting on your wrist. In between practices, before games, after games, no matter the time it was, if he was free, he was making your bracelet. The first one he made broke two seconds after he cleaned everything up. The second one, he just hated. He couldn’t give a reason, but he did not like it. The third he thought was perfect until he noticed half the letters were upside down.

He set in on the fourth bracelet, really taking his time. He took little details from your favorite songs and added the colors of your favorite albums. Eventually, he had a bracelet he was proud of, mostly. He knew it wasn’t perfect, and that was the main cause of his worries. He had run out of time, unable to make a fifth like he wished he could. This one was okay. It was cute but simple, and Jack knew he could do better. However, this would have to be the one he gives to you tonight, so he could only hope that you’ll like it.

————————————————————————

You and Jack had finally arrived at MetLife. You were walking to the line, ready to inside, when he grabbed your hand, pulling you aside. Just when you open your mouth to tell him the line is the other way, you notice the nervousness on his face and the way he’s keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“I umm… I wanna give you something before we go in. It’s not much, but I… I thought you might like it, and… yeah,” he felt like he couldn’t breathe, terrified you’d hate it. He pulls the bracelet from his pocket, slowly placing it in your now-opened hand. You weren’t saying much, only staring at the bracelet in your palm. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not the best, but I just wanted to do something for you. The beads are kinda of see-through, so you can see the string I used. It’s um… it’s one of the clear ones so it’s like all of our invisible strings. I tried to use the colors from your favorite album too since they’re all color-coded ya know? And-” he was stopped in his tracks when you looked up at him with that bright smile he loves to be the cause of.

“Jack, you made this for me?”  you look away from the blush that’s spread from his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears in favor of looking at the bracelet again. He wasn’t lying, you had seen and made better bracelets than this, but none of them meant what this one did. It had colorful, transparent beads in no specific order to pattern, and you could see the clear string he had used to tie them all together through them. In the middle of all the beads were three little white beads with letters on them, Jack's initial and your initial with a heart in between. Honestly, it looks like something an elementary school boy might give to his crush on Valentine’s Day, but you loved it all the same.

“Yeah! I uh spent a lot more time on it than I’m ready to admit,” he let out a chuckle hoping some of his nerves would go with it.

“I love it, Jack. It’s perfect,” you hug him tightly, kissing his cheek as you go in for the hug. You can feel the sigh of relief he lets out at your reaction.

“I’m so glad you like it. Let me help you put it on,” he pulls back grabbing your hand that had no bracelets on the wrist, ready to receive them in trades. He grabs the bracelet, moving to put it on your wrist when he notices something off. “Wait! Is the J upside down? Are you kidding me? I tried so hard to get all the letters the same way on that one,” he sighs as the bracelet finally sits on your wrist where it belongs.

“That one? Did you make more than one, J?”

“Let’s not talk about it. Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a bracelet now? That’s how trading works, Babe.”

You giggle before pulling the perfect bracelet off of your other wrist. You had made it with Jack in mind. It was filled with light green and a few light teal beads, the letter beads in the center reading “OUR SONG”. It was one of Jack’s favorite Taylor Swift songs, and although he’d never admit it to anyone, you two sang it to each other quite often. Well, it was more like you were yelling the lyrics at each other, but you two were having fun. You cherished the smile on his face when he realized what song the bracelet was themed after before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the line.

————————————————————————

That was easily the best night of your life. You were practically buzzing by the time the timer had counted down, and when Taylor popped up from the floor, Jack was wondering how well he’d be able to hear at the end of the night after all your screaming. You two had swayed together during “Lover”, singing to each other while your head lay on Jack’s shoulder. You sang “Fearless” to him, telling him it always makes you think of him (“You run your finger through your hair, absent-mindedly making me want you”? If that isn’t Jack what is?), and he sang “Love Story” to you. You both dramatically sang “tolerate it” to one another, pretending you could relate. When the “reputation” set started, Jack was sure he’d lose his hearing. Either way, both of you were jamming out to every song in the set, Jack being a little more excited for “Look What You Made Me Do” since it reminds him of his career. 

The “Speak Now” era began, and you both sang your heart out to the only song in the set. “Enchanted” had been on your and Jack’s shared playlist since you got together, so it was a little surreal to be singing it with Taylor. In the “Red” era you were lucky enough to get a song added to the setlist, “Nothing New” with Phoebe Bridgers. Soon, you were in “folklore” and singing and dancing to every song. Next was the era you had been waiting for, “1989”. The entire album made you think of Jack, and it was one of the first you were able to talk him into listening to. You screamed the lyrics of “Style” and “Blank Space” to one another, dancing to “Shake It Off” and adding more drama for the “Wildest Dreams” and “Bad Blood” mashup.

Finally, it was time for the surprise songs. Before Taylor even sang anything, she debuted the “Karma” music video with Ice Spice. When she grabbed her guitar, you couldn’t believe your ears. She had begun playing one of your favorite songs, “Getaway Car”, and Jack Antonoff came on stage to help her perform it. When she moved to the piano, she played a song that Jack loved, “Maroon.” When you two finally made it home, you were still reeling.

“Did you enjoy your night, Baby?” Jack asked as he knelt to take your boots off for you.“I had the best night, Jacky! Thank you so so so much! I can’t believe we got all the surprises that we did!” you were still bouncing off the walls, although exhaustion was starting to settle in. After Jack took care of your boots, you both began undressing so you could get ready for bed. Jack watched you carefully take off the bracelet he had given you, placing it in your jewelry box with all the nicest jewelry you own. He’s sure he felt his heart stutter at that moment, but he ignored it in favor of getting ready for bed. Soon, you were both cuddled up in bed, sharing your favorite parts of the night before falling asleep, still tangled up in each other.

tags: @heartsforjh @fofiquierellorar @justxpaulina @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels

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[gingerteawrites]

teehee are u able to write a fic about geto and y/n baking together and having a movie night in? yes im delusional LMAO

A/N: Omg my very first Anon request?? Girl if you're delusional, I'm the president of the club! I'm so happy you asked for this, and hope you enjoy this little thing. Unfortunately I am still busy as a bee, so expect slower updates on this account for at least a couple of weeks😔🤚🏾

Content: Geto x female reader, fluff, established relationship, non-sorcerer AU

Some days, life pressed heavy upon your shoulders, a weight borne in weary steps and silent sighs. Obligations clung like shadows-- engagements to honor, duties to mend, and the world, ever unkind, offering only the worst of itself.

It came to a point that most interactions began to feel like a chore. The mere presence of others acting like a draining force on your already dwindling energy.

But when the *ding* sound of a notification on your phone pulls your attention to the device, you feel part of the exhaustion melt away as your lover's name pops up on the dim screen.

[Hey there pretty girl, are you still up for movie night?] The text from Suguru immediately brings a smile to your face, and your fingers are quick to type a reply.

[Yes! Your place at 8, right?]

[Yup, I'll come pick you up. See you later, love]

The anticipation for the evening gives you the strength to push through the mountain of work you have to do. And as soon as you register the roaring of Geto's bike outside your building, you are quick to grab your things and rush to the door, leaving behind the chaos of your own world.

You unlock your door, breathing in relief as fresh air filled your lungs.

"Hey," you smile, letting him engulf you into a warm hug. You smell the sandalwood of his cologne, closing your eyes.

"Hey," he replies, rubbing your back gently. He pulls away to let you close your door, and then interlaces your fingers as he leads you over to his bike.

You slip on your helmet with ease and climb on the vehicle, wrapping your arms securely around his torso. A routine that your mind welcomed, slowly silencing your spiraling thoughts from the day's events.

As if sensing your fatigue, Suguru rides a bit slower than usual. The quiet rumble of the bike's engine fill the silence. And his hands, rubbing your thighs occasionally when stopped at red lights fill you with peace. His own little way of saying he was there, that he cared.

When you finally walk into his apartment he strides into the kitchen, tying a dark apron around his waist.

"You can just relax and pick a movie, baby," he speaks from behind the counter, while you're still putting your stuff down. Incense sticks fill the room with a soothing smell, and like everything about Suguru, the apartment's ambiance makes your body relax further. But you perk up at his words.

"But we were supposed to bake together," you walk over to him, a slight frown over your features.

His expression softens even further, reaching out to hold your cheek. A large hand settles on your face and you feel his warmth seeping into your skin. "You look exhausted," he sighs, watching you nuzzle into his touch. "You could have canceled for tonight, you know?" He would never want for you to feel forced to be around him. He wanted to be your peace after all, and never a source of weariness.

You look up at him, stepping closer. "I'm glad you're trying to be considerate, but I really want to do this with you,"

His other hand finds your waist, rubbing soothingly along it. The movement sends pleasant shivers down your spine, and you relax further against him. Suguru smiles, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Alright then pretty," he pulls back. "Cookies it is?"

"Cookies it is." You confirm.

Suguru wraps his spare apron—unofficially yours—around your waist and queues up a bossa nova playlist before you both get to work. A relaxed ambiance settles over the room, the sweet aroma of batter curling through the air.

At last, you slide the cookies into the oven, turning just as you close the warm furnace. Before you can step away, Suguru pulls you close, his arm slipping around your waist.

There were birds in the sky But I never saw them winging No, I never saw them at all 'Til there was you~

You giggled lightly as he swayed with you around the small kitchen, humming along to the lyrics. The deep rumble of his voice reverberated through his chest and to yours, making your own body thrum with the rhythm of love.

"You're such a romantic," you whispered when the flute outro drew to a silence, your body still firmly planted against his.

"Only because I love you so much," he replied with that same easy smile. As if the depth of his affection did not rock you entirely. "Do you still want to watch [comfort movie]?"

You smiled, "Of course! Unless you want to watch something else," you secure your arms around his neck, enjoying the proximity as you still gently swayed to the instrumental suite that began to play in the background.

He shakes his head, drawing closer to give you a quick kiss on the lips, sweet and soft, almost too fleeting. "Your pick tonight."

No time passes until you're curled up together on the couch, the movie score ringing melodiously in the background.

But your attention is not on the screen, you could recite the whole movie without watching anyway. All that mattered was Suguru's arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, his hair tickling your cheek as it fell away from his face, the feel of his hands absently caressing you. The way he quietly hummed along to whatever tune that he recognized from the movie. Him, with you.

In his arms you felt safe, warm and loved. You could forget the weight of obligations, even if for a moment. And that was something the chaos of the world could not take away from you.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to request anything else :))

comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[cryptiduni]

“white mourning.”

[girl-bateman]

Gaslighting, my old friend, I'll fall for you every single time <3

[yanderenightmare]

TW: obsession, obsessive thoughts

fem reader

Thinking about when the playboy finally falls in love…

It’s so silly, soft as it may sound, untrue even given his record of sleeping around, but sometimes all he wants is pure unadulterated love. A hug once in a while would be nice – maybe a chaste kiss on his cheek – or cuddles.

You hadn’t believed a lick of it. You’d only laughed in his face with a shake of your head, telling him that must have been the worst pick-up play you’d ever been the victim of. 

It’s cliché, but he’s been obsessed with you ever since.

He feels like such a loser thinking about it – for real now – rolling his eyes with a hidden smile while looking at the candid picture he’d snapped of you. 

Chewing on this tongue while fantasizing such ridiculous things – virginal nothings such as handholding or resting his head in your lap and feeling you play with his hair. Sleeping together with your clothes on – spooning each other all clingy and soft...

Whispering sweet little nothings against the shell of his ear – teasing him. Playfighting – making you squeal and giggle as he grabs you and pins you beneath him in the bed. Tickling – making you laugh. Or kissing your nose and head and hand. 

Oh, and making breakfast together, eating lunch, and sharing dinner. 

Don't get him started on showering – helping each other wash – backrubs and headscrubs. How good your hands would feel carding through his hair as you rub in soap and rinse it out. Or just face masks. A whole evening in the bubble bath.

Watching some stupid romcom in fluffy bath robes afterward with your dopey tired head falling to rest on his shoulder. Snoring and mumbling small sweet little nothings to each other.

Saying good morning. Saying goodnight. Have a nice day. Good luck. I love you. I love you more. I love you most.

And there’s more.

Baby-names.

You haven't even gotten his dick wet once – he hasn’t even scored a kiss yet, and he’s already thinking about knocking you up and putting a ring on it.

You would look too good with his brat on your knee…

Bouncing them, breastfeeding, playing peek-a-boo games, zerbert, and doing the Simba from The Lion King – all with a great big beaming smile on your face. A smile that even the sun would envy.

Not to mention the kid itself. 

He would love the ever-living life out of a little baby version of you – pouty plump lips and mochi cheeks – spluttering and hiccupping on earth-shattering sobs when scuffing her dainty little knees on the pavement – asking for piggyback rides and candy before dinner.

Or a little miniature of him. Seeing you lull little devil-faced Junior to sleep.

Fuck it, you should get both. A truckload.

He’s shaken from his thoughts when his friend snaps his fingers.

“You’ve been staring at your phone forever. What’re you looking at that’s so important?”

He can’t believe how far down the rabbit hole he’d just spiraled. Thinking about a girl without picturing her naked. He must be losing it.

“… I’m not sure…”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso, Denki

JJK – Gojo, Sukuna

HQ – Oikawa, Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins, Suna

BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Rin

AOT – Eren

[acid-ixx]

(12/30/24) — again &. again masterlist

by the bird and the bee

ft. platonic soft! yandere batfam! x gn! neglected reader

✮ MAIN MASTERLIST ✮

— TRIGGER WARNINGS !

- lowercase writing, emotional neglect, allusions to sexual assault, prostitution & physical abuse, kidnapping, alcohol abuse, drugging, themes of depression, dissociation, vague traumatic events, mentions of murder, amnesia, other warnings would be added soon.

— SYNOPSIS !

who would have thought that living with your rich, billionaire father and endless supply of sisters and brothers would actually end up being the worst thirteen and a half year of your life?

when your mother was taken away from you at the ripe age of five, you were forced to live at the solemn wayne manor with nobody to accompany you but the butler, alfred pennyworth.

there, you learn that giving up was better than trying to gain the attention of your ever-growing family. so you left, and never once tried to look back at the decades of neglect they left you with.

but when alfred, your kind caretaker, had started leaving clues of your sudden disappearance; that's when they all take notice and then on starts the ultimate race of chasing freedom, and escaping what once was your gilded cage.

little did you know your mother's dark past manifests itself at the worst of times.

— CHAPTERS ! ; 48k+ words

00. — oh, please leave me be.

01. — because you only notice me once i'm out the door.

02. — and you don't even remember my face?

03. — i need a drink, away from everyone.

04. — mors tua, vita mea / your death, my life.

05 : 01. — a halo in the pit of darkness.

05 : 02. — to be his child is all i want.

— DRABBLES ! ; #series: again &. again

dick grayson calling you his baby bird

why now? (yan! damian wayne)

brutus (villain au concept)

brutus: out for blood

what if you were never neglected?

just a taste (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

laughter is the best medicine (yan! dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne)

to you, my greatest passion (non-neglected au-verse)

brutus: both arms cradle you now

bruce finding your graduation picture

how to be a heartbreaker! (yandere harem)

mea culpa (mini chapter)

conflicting comfort scene with jason todd

dialogue spoilers related to above drabble

more about jason todd and hurt/comfort

dick and his baby blue eyes

time travel au concept

sharing the same features with damian

brutus: the only fucked up thing in this world is you

cause you're takin' it like a champ, sweetheart! (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

brutus: just a burning memory (yan! conner kent)

young, just us?! (yan! young justice au)

that's my type! (yan! john constantine)

— ASKS ! ; #series: again &. again

dick's spiral into yandere-ism

leaving gotham, resenting alfred, changing last names

your mysterious identity &. conner being your love interest

dick seeing you as a child & damian's need to be your favorite

damian and his cool, matching bracelets

does dick close the door on you? nah, he doesn't even know you were behind the door

wally west as your love interest

you care now?

conner as your angry, protective bf

jason trying his damn best to be a brother to you

calling bruce by his last name only

calling alfred your dad ft. jealous bruce

how are damian and jason obsessed towards you

their nicknames for you

how bruce and damian would try to bond with you

will you still go to college after being kidnapped?

will the series have a happy ending?

why does damian hurt you? and why do you justify his actions?

the family stalks you even in-game

— INCORRECT QUOTES ! ; #a&a: incorrect quotes

yan! villains kidnapping you

hostage situation

how to become a target to the wayne family

dick and you miscommunication trope in a nutshell

— FANART ! ; #a&a: fanart

happy birthday by @luffyadolover

diary by @luffyadolover

another reason they're broke &. finished art by @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu

a take on the reader's appearance by @luffyadolover

reader trying to study ft. the batfam's endless calls &. finished art by @ghostdoodlen

reader finding bruce and damian watching a movie by @luffyadolover

again &. again mv by @luffyadolover

reader and their playlist by @luffyadolover

a comic panel by @lucioleestolie

conner and reader flying through the skies by @ghostdoodlen

when all of a sudden, i hear this agitating noise by @punpunsonny

villain au reader by @lazyemmy

a&a oc: emile by @questionthegrapevine

graduation pic, conner comfort, and mirrors by @ghostdoodlen

neglected &. non-neglected reader by @lazyemmy

jason calling you his angel by @ghostdoodlen

alfred gives you a christmas gift by @luffyadolover

— TAGLIST ! ; taglist is under construction!

@.lilyalone, @.secretomelettetroops, @.earlqurl, @.simpingfor-wakasa, @.amber-content, @.ruiroku, @.okaybutfullhomo, @.trasshy-artist, @.obsessedwithromance, @.jjsmeowthie, @.fairy-lenaa, @.ilovvmyhusband, @.6uuyuuhgy, @.plsfckmedxddy, @.lavender-moony, @.sweetheart-era, @.chemicalsandghosts, @.darling006, @.starringyau, @.samanthahanes, @.rosecentury, @.jaythes1mp, @.pi1nkl0ver, @.i-thirsty-boy, @.sharks-are-cool-l, @.silverklaus, @.samanthathanes, @.traumaramacenter, @.maddimoon, @.anxrq, @.thedarknesslord, @.h0rr0r-10ver-69, @.lazy-idate, @.cupids-pretty-boy, @.alishii, @.mel-star636, @.sitepathos, @.freakyotaku059-blog, @.dirtydiavolo, @.sunbleachedantlers, @.24hrsoflanii, @.ceramic-raven, @.une-lueur-dans-la-nuit, @.tdickensstuff4, @.thickerthanthieves, @.arlandvery, @.distressed-lezbo, @.bunbunboysworld, @.bellethesleepypotato, @.naina326, @.nebuluma, @.alliwantisadonut, @.alishii, @.kusakiguzen, @.sirenetheblogger, @.emmbny, @.ryukyuin, @.solkara, @.starsdotalk

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one ┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

Once you knew, you knew. 

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amount of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him. 

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes. 

There it was.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake – From Vigilante to Infinite Realms Royalty

It was one of those things that Tim never imagined would happen, not in his wildest Gotham nights. But then again, dating Danny Fenton, aka Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, came with more than just the usual paranormal hijinks.

Tim was used to strange things, but being royalty? That was definitely new.

The revelation hit him one evening when Danny casually mentioned it, like he was talking about the weather.

“You know you’re technically royalty now, right?” Danny said, lounging upside down in the air like it was the most normal thing ever.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Royalty? What are you talking about?”

Danny grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Well, you’re dating me. And I’m the King of the Infinite Realms. So that makes you my consort… which, you know, technically makes you royalty too.”

Tim froze. “Wait—what? That’s not how this works. I didn’t sign up for—”

“Oh, but it is how it works. Welcome to ghost politics, Drake.”

And that’s when Tim realized his life just got infinitely more complicated.

Naturally, the bats found out. Because of course they did. And it spiraled into something Tim really didn’t want to deal with.

It started when he casually mentioned it during a meeting in the Batcave. He figured it wasn’t a big deal. After all, being ‘royalty’ in a ghost dimension didn’t really change anything, right?

Wrong.

Bruce didn’t even flinch. He just kept typing at the Batcomputer. “You’re dating the Ghost King, and now you’re royalty?”

“Technically, yes,” Tim said, trying not to sound too defensive.

Bruce glanced at him. “I see.”

That was all he said. But it was enough to make Tim feel like he’d just announced he was moving to the moon.

Jason, of course, immediately jumped on it. “Hold up. So you’re, like, ghost royalty now? Does that mean you get a crown or something?”

Tim shot him a glare. “No, I’m not getting a crown.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Jason grinned. “Sounds like royalty to me. Next thing you know, we’re gonna be bowing to Prince Drake of the Phantom Zone.”

“It’s not the Phantom Zone, Todd.”

Damian, predictably, was furious. “This is ridiculous. You, Drake? Royalty? You are not fit for any throne, especially one in the Infinite Realms. The entire concept is absurd.”

Tim sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m not ruling anything, Damian. It’s just a title.”

“An unearned one,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Steph, on the other hand, thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “Wait, wait. So if you and Danny are together for real, does that mean we have to call you ‘Your Highness’? I need to know. Are there royal ghost duties? Do you have to make decrees?”

“No. Please stop,” Tim groaned.

But the worst part? The teasing didn’t stop. Every dinner, every mission, every time Tim walked into the room, someone had something to say.

“So, Tim,” Dick said one day with a grin. “Have you started planning ghostly state visits yet? I’m sure the Justice League would love to attend a royal banquet in your honor.”

“No state visits,” Tim said through gritted teeth. “I don’t even rule anything.”

“Sure you don’t, ‘Your Ghostliness,’” Jason added with a laugh.

The bats seemed to think it was the funniest thing in the world. Tim? Not so much. But he had to admit, ghost politics were no joke. He was already getting drawn into weird Infinite Realms power struggles, where ancient beings would bow to him and ghosts would whisper about “the King’s consort.”

At first, Tim tried to play it off. He didn’t need the title. He wasn’t about to walk around with a crown and robes, or start making royal proclamations. But when one of the ghost courtiers addressed him as “My Lord,” he couldn’t help but cringe.

Danny found the whole thing hilarious. “Don’t worry,” he’d say with a smirk. “You won’t have to do anything royal. It’s just… a perk.”

“Some perk,” Tim muttered.

Still, despite all the teasing and the bizarre ghostly politics, Tim knew one thing for sure: he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Dating Danny came with chaos, sure. But at the end of the day, Tim was okay with it. Even if it meant being ghost royalty.

Just… no crown. Ever.

[moonpascaltoo]

sebastian sallow

MASTERLIST • HOGWARTS LEGACY • 11/22/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 never forget I @zevrra

where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them

𑣲 caught in the rain I @/zevrra

you and sebastian seek shelter inside an abandoned home where every feeling is laid to bare.

𑣲 truth or dare I @ppomumgranatum

Truths emerged and friendships were tested as you found yourself confronting two years' worth of suppressed feelings towards Sebastian. Drunk.

𑣲 the dance of love’s sweet potion I @/ppomumgranatum

When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.

𑣲 marry me I @theealbatross

The 3 times Sebastian thought about marrying you and the 1 time he asked.

𑣲 fight the alchemy I @/theealbatross

Garreth asks why Sebastian isn’t dating you. Sebastian spirals.

𑣲 i love you, it’s ruining my life I @/theealbatross

Sebastian has the worst insomnia known to man and you are not dating him.

𑣲 never not been mine I @/theealbatross

Everyone wonders if you and Sebastian are together. Sebastian wonders when will everyone mind their own business.

𑣲 fever (what a lovely way to burn) I @shadowtriovibes

"since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly.”

𑣲 request I @/shadowtriovibes

Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back

𑣲 break a sweat part 2 part 3 part 4 I @/shadowtriovibes

sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

𑣲 mind if i move in closer? I @/shadowtriovibes

𑣲 it’s a sign of the times part 2 I @/shadowtriovibes

Rivals-to-lovers Sebastian and MC use a Time-Turner to travel to the future with Ominis in search for a cure for Anne. Instead they find a girl who's the spitting image of MC trying to sneak into the Restricted Section in the 1910s, only she has freckles like Sebastian

𑣲 fissured composure I @anto-pops

After watching you hold your own against a handsy classmate, Sebastian is feeling particularly needy and steals you away to the Undercroft to show you just how worked up your right hook got him.

𑣲 possessive touch I @/anto-pops

Sebastian has never been the sharing sort. He was happy to loan people notes or quills, maybe even the occasional book from the Restricted Section. But not you. Never you.

𑣲 sudsy confessions I @/anto-pops

Sebastian confessing his long-harbored love for you while you’re naked in a bathtub.

𑣲 request I @/anto-pops

𑣲 unspoken attraction I @arthenaa

The girls and you have a talk on who they'll date amongst the students in Hogwarts. No one mentions Sebastian despite being deemed the most handsome in your year. You wonder why?

𑣲 jealously, jealousy I @awkwardauthorwrites

𑣲 i think he knows I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Sebastian helps Y/N with an interesting request

𑣲 violets and verbena I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Two years have passed since the events in Hogwarts Legacy, in which Y/N has drifted away from Sebastian. What happens when she has to spend some time in the hospital wing and he comes to visit?

𑣲 in the middle part 2 I @/awkwardauthorwrites

After a few months of knowing the reader the boys suddenly realise one day they are falling in love with the reader and start to become a bit bitter towards each other and very jealous if another guy gives her attention.

𑣲 wildest dreams part 2 part 3 I @/awkwardauthorwrites

Ten years have passed since the events of Hogwarts Legacy and Y/N is invited back as part of a reunion to celebrate.

𑣲 diesel is desire I @wttcsms

sebastian sallow is a good friend. so good, in fact, that when you find yourself under the ungodly influence of a lust potion, he's willing to help give you some relief.

𑣲 trust fall I @fairytalesandlegacies

Sebastian Sallow teaches you how to fight against the Imperius Curse late one night, and in the process, some long-kept secrets are revealed.

𑣲 i need you I @ravenelyx

Sebastian has different ways of dealing with being hurt. One of them is burying his face in your chest while you cuddle him

𑣲 who do you smell? I @roarieluz

Sebastian Sallow has had a crush on Y/N for a while now, this isn't news to him but when a strong batch of amortentia is made for potions class it is hard to keep his mind clear of anything that isn't about you and what he wants to do to you.

𑣲 the night shift part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 I @writing-intheundercroft

You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

𑣲 a long time coming I @undergaunts

aka three times Sebastian is a flirt, one time he gets called out on it, and one time he finally does something about it.

𑣲 pining in potions class I @festivalsofmargot

Sebastian Sallow is forming a huge crush on you, and it’s hitting him all at once in a very annoying way. Something as simple as not being partnered with you in potions class eats away at him.

𑣲 pretty thoughts part 2 I @/festivalsofmargot

Sebastian is down bad for you, my dear reader. But a lot of overthinking on your part makes you blind to it. So, his only option is to keep chasing after you.

𑣲 a worrisome box of chocolates I @matchavellichor

𑣲 you look better in green part 2 I @fierymiasma

In which Sebastian sees the new transfer student wearing someone else’s scarf and proceeds to absolutely lose it.

𑣲 snow, scarves, and schemes I @spaceyaceface

Y/N is sick of Leander Prewett trying to court her. Luckily, she has a best friend named Sebastian Sallow who would love to help put an end to it. They devise a plan to pretend to court up until the Yule Ball. Should be simple, right? If only. 

𑣲 the one who stayed I @talesofesther

For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

𑣲 the winner takes all I @justauthoring

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

𑣲 bludgered I @slytherizz

Sebastian never really knew what his friend saw in Isaac Cooper but he never questioned it - he made his friend happy. That is until a Quidditch match goes quickly awry and he realises his feelings for her may go far deeper than simple friendship.

𑣲 between the two of you I @cuffmeinblack

Rewriting of the events of the Shadow of the Study/Discovery quests.

𑣲 i crumble completely (when you cry) I @atlabeth

there's only one way to get into salazar slytherin's scriptorium.

[theconstantsidekick]

klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.

luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.

ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.

alison got her happy life but couldn’t sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.

diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasn’t even shown saying goodbye to his kids.

lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.

viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didn’t. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.

five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brother’s wife not liking him back.

there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.

[sunraies]

Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹

Sleepy baby

As requested above

Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.

*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*

16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.

You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.

Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.

At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.

But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.

You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.

Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.

The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.

"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.

"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.

"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.

All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.

"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.

"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"

Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.

Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'

He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.

"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"

If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.

What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.

He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.

"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.

"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them

"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.

"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"

You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.

"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.

"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.

"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.

"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.

He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'

[crushmeeren]

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

࿐ take this 🍧 to keep you occupied while you browse ࿐

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Hoshina’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Mating runs are boring and common where you come from. You’ve taken part in more than you can count, yet no one has been able to catch you and the thrill’s worn off. You’re on the verge of giving up completely when someone new joins your pack. It startles you when you realize that you’re about to be in for the mating run of your life.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Bakugou’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ You’ve danced around each other since you were kids. It didn’t start that way, no, it only developed into something more once you turned into teenagers. Once you’ve both reached 21, it’s no secret who you’re deliriously hoping will pin you down during your first, and only, mating run.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ knotting, breeding, scent kink, biting/marking, fighting as foreplay, a/b/o dynamics.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Shinsou’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Hitoshi is the only other vampire that works at the bar with you. In fact, you’re two of the only vamps in town. It’s kind of isolating, but you have each other to lean on. You’ve resisted sleeping with him for fear of losing you’re only vampire companion, but when the shitty drunk regular takes it too far you and Hitoshi decide to…. “take care of him”. And each other.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Inumaki’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Being the only vampires in your specific group of assassins, you and Toge get contracted out and sent into a vampires only club to pose as a couple and hunt down your next non paying target. Someone must slip something into Toge’s drink to distract him, because the next you know you’re being dragged into a “private room” and riding Toge until your thighs burn.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ biting, blood play, exhibitionism, sadism/masochism ish?, mild body horror, etc. full versions have all the warnings!

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Touya’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Touya’s a regular at the coffee shop you work in. It’s in a seedier part of town and nobody bats an eye at the villain who stops in every night before close. He never speaks to you after he orders, winking and smiling eerily until the hair on the back of your neck stands up. But he’s the least of your worries. There’s someone wearing a ghost face mask who’s been stalking you after every shift. It’s been going a lot longer than you care to admit. Maybe it’s because, in a twisted way, you kind of like it?

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Megumi’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Megumi’s your boyfriend, but he’s a bit too obsessed with you. He starts pretending to stalk you at night while wearing a demon mask to drive you even further into his arms and see him as your protector. It backfires when Megumi doesn’t realize that you found out it was him almost immediately. Nevertheless, you’re going along with it because you’re just as obsessed and delusional about him.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, knife play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere vibes.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Kirishima’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Boys fucking suck. Especially when it comes to sex. When you come across a forum of other women who have dealt with this problem, the word incubus catches your eye. After spiraling down a rabbit hole of what and how to obtain your own incubus, you think you’re getting a demon who’s dark and mysterious who can satisfy you. You end up with a demon that has the sun shining out of his ass. Although, he still ends up being way more than satisfying.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ Kenma’s version ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Kenma, according to you, is the laziest and worst incubus you’ve ever worked with. As a succubus, you work twice as hard as he does and still he ends up wreaking more havoc and causing such an insane amount of psychological damage that it causes your blood to boil. When you confront him about it, Kenma’s apathetic as usual. Then he shows you why he wears the crown. What a fool you were.

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ light bondage, choking, size kink, biting/marking, praise kink, rough sex, anal sex.

⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣ ⇣ ༄ ⇣ ⇣

Whether you’re into monster fucking or something creepier, I’ll be feeding you little bats well this year. I do hope you’ll take a look around and find something that interests you.

I can’t promise these will all be super long since I’ve decided to torture myself and use two characters for each prompt, but I can promise they will be written to the best of my ability!

For the record, I will be writing these as 𓐩 ⋆ FEM READER ⋆ ��. I hope this doesn’t disappoint anyone, but this is what I’m comfortable with and I’m not changing my mind.

That being said, cross my heart and hope to die I’ll put my blood, sweat, and tears into these! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

master list link

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 9: Sink or Swim

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You confront Joel and he struggles to tell you the truth and open up, leaving you with a broken heart.

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, mountains of angst, jealousy, reader has long-ish hair, reader falls down into a shame spiral where she compares herself to a prostitute

WC: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

You had never felt more stupid or naive in your life.

How could you let this happen? How could you allow yourself to be put in this position, knowing deep down you would ultimately get hurt? And the worst part was, you had no one to blame but yourself. Joel was upfront from the very beginning. He was paying you to pretend to be his significant other and he repeatedly drew the line in the sand, refusing over and over again to take things further with you. But you just kept pushing and pushing and he eventually caved, your persistence finally wearing him down. And after everything, after he told you he had never been in love, after explaining he was only with Tammy for vengeance and then convenience, you still foolishly thought maybe you were different. That maybe you could change him. What the hell had gotten into you? Why couldn't you just do the job you were hired to do, collect your payment and go home?

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the tears back as you stood over your bed, packing the rest of your belongings before the plane took off in a couple hours. Most of your things were packed, the clothes and accessories Joel and purchased for you before the trip, but you still had to gather all your own personal items. When you pulled your bag from the closet, forgotten and untouched for weeks, you immediately spotted an old, baggy shirt and your favorite pair of jeans. Without even thinking twice, you stripped off the pajamas and underwear that were purchased for you and replaced everything with your own clothes. When you pulled your shirt over your head and looked in the mirror, you took a deep breath and gave yourself a little smile.

This was the girl you knew. This was who you really were. Not some girl who pranced around in lingerie that cost more than a month's rent or a swimsuit that could cover a car payment.

You should have known this life wasn't for you. Joel had called you a hopeless romantic that day on the beach. The same day he got you the pretty pink seashells you now cradled carefully in the palms of your hands.

Maybe he was right.

"Almost ready?"

You jumped at his deep voice in your doorway and nearly dropped the seashells. With extra care, you wrapped them in an old hoodie and buried them in your bag.

"Yeah, almost," you said over your shoulder, pausing a moment when you saw the two white, unopened envelopes filled with tip money you had completely forgotten about.

Joel's arms circled your waist from behind and you quickly closed the bag.

"Feelin' sad it's over?" he asked, lips pressed gently into the crook of your neck. And you knew he meant the trip, but your heart still wrenched in your chest, anyway.

"Uh, yeah," you said, swallowing down the dejection that threatened to crawl up your throat. You carefully pried his hands off you and slipped away to pack your toiletries, leaving him standing there with a confused look on his face.

He watched you as you busied yourself with packing, taking great care to wrap your shampoo and face wash so it wouldn't leak, and he frowned.

"Somethin's up."

You shook your head and pressed your lips together, focus still fixed on your task. "No. Just... like you said. Sad it's over."

Joel ticked his jaw to the side, still not convinced. Then it dawned on him and he slowly sat down on the edge of your bed.

"We never talked last night like I said we would," he said. "'M sorry, I was thinkin' 'bout the land and all the shit I gotta do to finalize the sale... we'll talk on the plane, alright? Promise, baby."

For some reason, hearing him call you baby made your stomach turn and you instantly bristled.

"Uh, no, it's fine," you insisted, tucking your hair behind your ear when you bent over to shove your toiletries into your bag. "Nothing to talk about, it was stupid."

And now, it really did seem stupid. Admitting you would have come there without being paid just for him to lie and break your heart hours later?

But, shit... it was still true. Even after he lied, you still didn't want any of his money. He could keep it all if it meant he would open up and let you in.

"Wasn't stupid," Joel finally said softly. He was beginning to worry now. Something wasn't right and it was making his pulse race. When you breezed past him to gather the things from your nightstand, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around. Reluctantly, you met his eye and he imploringly gazed up at you.

"Talk to me."

You inhaled a shaky breath and dropped your chin to your chest. "Joel... I still have to pack-"

"I don't care," he said sternly, "I got people to do that for us. Why ain't you lookin' at me?"

Nerves shot through your limbs, fingers beginning to shake so you curled them into fists. You had to bring it up one way or another, right?

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"Why won't you tell me what happened with your daughter?"

Once the words left your lips, the room instantly felt colder, his grip felt tighter, and your muscles stiffened in anticipation.

"What?" he asked, his voice so low and his tone so icy that it sent a shiver down your spine. You shifted nervously from foot to foot, eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Why won't-"

"I fuckin' heard you," he snapped, dropping your wrists and standing up. "Who told you?"

You swallowed tightly and took a few steps backwards.

"Tammy."

Joel practically growled with rage as he began to pace around your room, the area that once felt so spacious and luxurious now felt so small and cold. He grumbled under his breath and dragged his hand through his hair, curls sticking up in odd directions when he turned on you with a look that could melt steel.

"The hell you talkin' to her for?"

Of all the things for him to say, you didn't expect that.

"What do you - she came at me last night! She threatened to tell Glenn about your daughter and brother and I had to pretend like I already knew!"

Tears welled up in your eyes and your hands pressed protectively against your chest.

"I was helping you, Joel. I stopped her from ruining this deal for you." And you hated the way your voice wobbled when you said, "I was doing my job."

His eyes flashed with anger when he stopped a few feet away from you with his hands propped on his hips.

"You shoulda came to get me. This didn't have anythin' to do with you," he told you. You winced and looked back down at the floor, unable to stop yourself from taking it personally.

"Why does Tammy know more about your family than I do?" you asked, your voice so small and weak it was borderline embarrassing.

"'Cause-" he cut himself off, swiping his palm over his mouth while he stared at you, wrestling with his anger and his feelings all at once.

"'Cause it ain't part of the deal?" you offered bitterly, just as surprised as him at the quick change in your tone. And because he was foolish and always quick to anger, he took the bait.

"Yeah, 'cause it ain't part of the deal," he huffed, narrowing his eyes at you.

"But it was part of her deal," you pointed out. At that, Joel rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.

"The hell you want from me?" he asked, voice rising now. "I told you 'bout her, told you what happened-"

"And you told me she was the only reason you felt you weren't a 'good man'!" you shouted with air quotes, your heartbreak bleeding into anger. "You fucking lied to me, Joel!"

"My family ain't none of your goddamn business!" he shouted back, the look in his eye and the sting of his words making you falter for a moment. "If I wanted to tell you, I woulda told you!"

"That's the problem, isn't it? You don't want to tell me anything! It's like pulling teeth with you, Joel, I swear to god..."

You pushed past him to shove the remaining items from your end table recklessly into your bag while he stalked after you.

"You wanna know 'bout my daughter? 'Bout my brother? Will that make you happy?" he yelled, his face growing hot and his eyes flickering with anger as he towered over you. You spun around with your arms crossed, refusing to let him intimidate you. But before you could shoot back an answer, he kept going.

"You wanna know how I abandoned my kid? You want me to tell you how I turned my back on my brother, let him lose his goddamn business? Huh?"

You blinked and shook your head, stunned.

"W-what?"

"Yeah, that's right," he sneered, turning away momentarily before twisting back around to face you. "This is why I don't do shit like this. 'Cause of the look you're givin' me right now."

You were speechless. You couldn't think of a single thing to say to make the situation better, so you kept your mouth shut and held back your tears while he cursed under his breath and tried not to yank his hair out at the root. When it became apparent you had no fight left in you, he twisted his wrist to look at the time with a scowl, then haphazardly picked up your bag from the bed and tossed it on the ground next to the others.

"We're leavin' in half an hour, be ready," he muttered, then slammed your door behind him after he disappeared into the hallway.

You let the tears fall, then. Only when he was gone and couldn't see. You buried your face in your hands and fell to your knees next to your things and sobbed as silently as possible, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you so hurt.

When you found a break in the sadness after taking a deep breath and drying your cheeks, you righted your bag only to hear shards of something delicate rattling inside. You frantically dug around and found the pink seashells all but destroyed and another wave of tears washed over you, only that time you didn't try to hide it. You sobbed openly while clutching the pieces to your chest, rocking back and forth, hoping to ease the pain somehow, but nothing helped.

Nothing could put the seashells or your heart back together.

Panic seized his throat approximately four minutes after he slammed his door, storming into his bedroom and muttering angrily under his breath until the clouds cleared and he realized his mistake.

His huge, fat, monstrous fucking mistake.

The hurt he carried with him about Sarah and Tommy wasn't meant to be unloaded onto you. It was something he was responsible for and something he had to deal with. It wasn't fair to snap at you the way he did just because he felt shame. He was taken off-guard, shocked that you knew anything about them in the first place, and he lashed out. Everything between you was so new, he was too scared to tell you the truth.

But it ultimately didn't matter.

He pushed you away, like he always did. He wasn't honest, you called him out on it, and he fought back like a petulant child.

And now he was going to lose you.

He whipped out his phone and typed out a quick text to his assistant, Liam.

What should I do for a girl when I've fucked things up beyond recognition?

He waited for a response and stared listlessly out the window, fingers tapping anxiously against his leg until he heard something. He rushed to his door and pressed his ear against the wood, brows furrowing as he tried to pinpoint the sound. Then his chest ached when he heard your muffled crying from across the hall.

Are we talking Chanel bag fucked up Cartier watch fucked up?

Joel frowned at his screen before replying, remembering the relaxed outfit you were wearing when he walked into your room earlier. They were definitely not clothes he bought. He already knew, but you weren't the type of person who cared about stuff like that.

I have no idea which one of those is better or worse. I fucked up big time but I don't think designer shit's the answer.

Then something sentimental. Something that means something to her. Or the both of you, if that's possible.

Joel rolled his eyes before tapping out a thanks and sliding the phone back into his pocket. Right before he was about to step out into the hall, his phone buzzed again.

And say you're sorry. Feels like that's a given but who knows with you.

Liam had been Joel's assistant for almost a decade. He knew Joel would never fire him because he was just too damn good at his job, and he loved to wield his power whenever moments arose to do so.

A simple apology wouldn't be enough. He needed to do more. But he was so fucking terrible at this, so rusty, he could hardly even remember what it was like to be in a legitimate relationship.

Was that was this was? He never had the chance to ask. And now he could feel it slipping through his fingers, just like the sand on the beach that day he kissed you in the ocean, or the powdered paint used to decorate your faces.

Joel swung his door open, ready to barge back into your room, take you into his arms and apologize until you either accepted it or screamed at him to stop. But when he stepped across the hall, your room was empty. Your bags were gone.

He hurried into the living room to find you tugging at your luggage, hair all wild and covering most of your tear soaked face as you struggled to get your bags closer to the door.

"Darlin', you don't gotta do that, the crew'll get all this shit," he reminded you, purposely softening his voice. He rubbed at his chest as he approached, ready to apologize, but the minute he got a good look at your face, he knew it was no use. Your eyes were all puffy and filled with rage when your head snapped up to look at him.

"I don't need you or your people to help me," you hissed, angrily swiping at your hair. He held out his hands in surrender, hoping you could see how sorry he was, but you just swiveled away to grab your bag and toss it over your shoulder.

"Wait, can we talk-"

"I'll be in the lobby," you said bitterly, and before he could say anything else, you disappeared out into the hall and the door had swung shut.

Admittedly, you had envisioned using the bed on Joel's private jet for something far more fun than lying there staring at the ceiling with eyes so dry and raw, they felt like sandpaper. Yet that was exactly how you found yourself three hours into the flight, unable to find peace or rest, your argument playing on a loop in your head.

Then, of course, came the intrusive thoughts.

Were you no better than a whore? Technically, you slept with a man who was paying you for your companionship. Wasn't that the very definition of a prostitute?

Joel only carried on a relationship with Tammy when it was convenient and the moment she started to develop feelings, he cut her off. You were certainly convenient, sleeping right across the hall, practically throwing yourself at him. And although he could probably sense you wanted more from him, that you were feeling something more but too afraid to admit, at least you never got to the point where you put yourself out there. At least you still had some dignity intact.

Somewhat.

You rolled over with a frustrated groan, savoring the feeling of the expensive, buttery soft sheets against your skin, knowing in a few short hours you would be back to the worn out cotton set you had bought back in college.

The luxury items were nice, but you could live without them. There was only one thing on that plane you really wanted, but your mind won the battle over your heart: you wouldn't let him hurt you again. He told you exactly who he was, and you didn't believe him.

You wouldn't make that mistake again.

But that didn't stop your heart from splintering in your chest every time you thought about the way his lips felt against your neck, or the sweet things he whispered in your ear - my girl, all fuckin' mine, you got me, or the way he took such gentle care of you after the incident with Brooks.

He was a good man, deep down.

No, he was a fucking asshole and a liar.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up in bed and fixed your hair, bending over to look in the mirror by the closet at your appearance and swiping the pad of your finger underneath both eyes, as if it made any difference, before straightening up and opening the door.

Joel sat with his head in his hands in front of his glowing laptop. He didn't hear the door open at first, so you paused, taking a rare moment to study him when his guard was down. His shoulders looked heavy, fingers curling into his hair as if he were in pain, and his leg bounced wildly underneath the table. If you didn't know any better, he looked conflicted. Like he was wrapped in guilt and self-pity.

You tossed your hair over your shoulder and lifted your chin high. It's not about you. He's working. It's probably about some bullshit with work. Don't do this to yourself again. Don't think you're something to him when you're not.

You stared at him a minute longer, anger bubbling up inside you again, but this time your anger was directed inward. Why, after he lied to you, after he said his family ain't none of your business and if I wanted to tell you, I woulda told you and it ain't part of the deal, did you stand there wishing you could climb into his lap and bury your face against his neck? Breathe him in and let him fill you? Whisper your names into each other's mouths and scrape your nails over his scalp just to hear him groan?

You must have made a noise, or maybe he was developing a sixth sense because suddenly his hands dropped, his leg froze, and his eyes snapped up to meet yours. Your gaze darted nervously around the plane, squinting out the window through the clouds as if you could tell where you were as you flew over the entire goddamn ocean, before finding his eyes again.

"Get any sleep?" he asked. His voice was raspy from disuse and you rolled your shoulders, trying to physically rid your body of the effect those three simple words had on you.

"No," you replied before slumping down into a chair on the other side of the cabin, furthest away from him. You tucked your fist under your chin and gazed tiredly out the window. Joel's eyes could have burned holes into your head from the way he was staring at you, scanning you, trying to come up with the right combination of words that would take back everything he said, until finally he cracked.

"Please talk to me."

Your eyelids fluttered closed at the soft desperation in his tone, throat feeling like someone's fingers were squeezing around it.

"There's nothing to talk about."

Joel huffed and stood, joints cracking from sitting in the same position for too long. In three long strides, he dropped himself into the seat across from you.

"You had questions. Lemme answer 'em."

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at him. Up close, he looked disheveled. A little rattled, maybe. But mostly determined.

"You said it yourself. If you wanted to tell me, you would've. If she never said anything to me, would you have told me you had a daughter?"

His mouth opened and closed for a moment, considering his answer.

"No," he finally replied. You rolled your eyes and turned your head away, neck straining at an impossible angle so you could stare out the window and avoid seeing him in your peripheral vision. "But not for the reasons you think."

"Yeah? You have no idea what I'm thinking," you muttered.

"What happened was... it's a long story, but-"

"But you told Tammy," you snapped, eyes still glued to the clouds.

"I've known both of 'em for years-"

"You said you didn't care for her that way, yet she knows so much about you," you rambled, too lost in your own anger and jealousy now.

"Can you let me-"

"God, I'm so fucking stupid. This was a huge mistake-"

"Will you let me fuckin' finish?" Joel asked, voice rising and purposely cutting you off before you could finish the sentence that might shatter his heart for good.

You whipped your head around, nostrils flaring and brows sewn together into a glare. Joel just stared right back, his chest rising a little faster under his button down shirt, dark eyes looking stormier than usual. When too much time had passed, you raised your eyebrows and wiggled your head from side to side expectantly. Go on, speak. He took a deep breath and pressed his back firmly into the plush leather chair before continuing.

"I've known her and Scott for a long time. They knew 'bout Sarah years ago. And, yeah, when I was younger and fuckin' stupid, I told both of 'em too much 'bout me. But I couldn't tell you, 'cause-"

He cut himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat as you stared one another down.

"'Cause I care what you think. 'Bout me. I care what you think 'bout me. Don't care what she thinks. Just you."

Sarah. Joel. Sarah and Joel, Joel and Sarah.

Just you.

Your eyes pinched shut and your shoulders sagged, the emotional whiplash finally taking its toll.

"I can tell you, if you want," Joel offered. His hands were fidgeting in his lap as he searched for any possible sign that he was breaking through.

"If I want. But you don't want to, right?"

Your voice sounded so small, you barely recognized it.

When he didn't answer, you lifted your chin and opened your eyes. You watched his throat bob and his lips purse before giving you a defeated look and slowly shook his head. At least he didn't lie again.

You bit your lower lip and nodded. You'd had enough.

"Then don't. Doesn't make a difference now, anyway," you told him. Reaching for your bag, you pulled out some earbuds and a hoodie, muttering angrily to yourself when you found it inside out.

Joel just watched, dejected and lost, too out of his element to undo the damage he caused as you yanked the hoodie over your head and popped your earbuds in. Once you reclined your chair and closed your eyes, he got the message.

He would just have to accept it was over.

When you finally fell into a restless slumber, you dreamt. You dreamt about a pair of soulful brown eyes, strong hands and a smile that made you weak in the knees.

The worst I'll ask is for you to hold my hand and the occasional kiss.

Only it wasn't just that, was it? It was secret touches that blossomed into flirty kisses when no one was around until the tension broke and he turned your world upside down with his deep laugh, sweet touch and torn knuckles.

Then you dreamt of broken seashells, salty tears, and you were hired to look pretty and act like you're in love with me. Everythin' else is none of your goddamn business.

He tried to warn you, you gave him that. He tried to push you away, but you persisted. You were foolish and had no idea what you were getting yourself into, and now you were left with a broken heart, heading back to Los Angeles to an empty apartment.

Joel was unavailable, plain and simple. He had a fortress built around himself that was impossible to tear down, and even though he offered to let you in, give you the grand tour, it wasn't genuine. He didn't offer because he wanted you in, he offered because it was what you wanted. And maybe to assuage his own guilt.

The flight crew woke you up when dinner was ready. You groggily sat up and tried to force feed yourself some chicken, something you assumed Joel had ordered for you, but you hardly made it halfway through before giving up.

He glanced at you occasionally but he kept to himself. He focused intently on his laptop or phone while you tried to find something to distract yourself with on TV.

When the flight crew announced you'd be landing in half an hour, Joel straightened up and began to look a little panicked, like maybe he had been expecting you to cave, trapped on his private jet with him, and you never did. And now you'd be landing soon, his chances dwindling.

"I ain't good at this," he said out of the blue. You just shrugged and kept your gaze fixed on the television.

"I noticed."

His fingers rapped impatiently on the table.

"What if we started over?"

Curiosity got the best of you and you rolled your head to the side to look at him with a raised eyebrow, which he took that as an invitation to keep talking.

"We didn't meet on the right terms. This wasn't -"

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I don't do relationships," he began again, and at that you scoffed.

"I'm very aware of that, too."

He narrowed his eyes at your dry tone. "But you do."

You frowned and turned back to gaze blankly at the TV. "Yes, Joel. Like most normal people, I have relationships."

"Alright. What if I'd be willin' to try somethin' like that? For you? Start over and do it right?" he asked hopefully.

"Then I would say twenty four hours ago, that was exactly what I wanted to hear," you said coldly. You saw him stand out of the corner of your eye and find a swivel chair closer to where you sat on the couch.

"And now?"

The deep timber of his voice had you taking a moment to breathe deep and collect yourself. You could smell his cologne, the one you never got the name of but would spend two hours one day in the near future trying to find it in a department store just so you could smell him again.

"And now..." you echoed, your brain tossing around various replies until you settled on, "I don't know."

He inched forward on the chair and glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were alone before saying, "Listen, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so unbelievably fuckin' sorry that it makes me want to pluck by goddamn eyes out. I wanna make this right. Just tell me what to do."

The pilot announced your decent and you sat up to buckle yourself in.

"I'm not going to force you into opening up for me, Joel," you said, clicking your seatbelt loudly before meeting his eye. "You can tell me everything about you. Every ugly, horrible, nasty little thing. But unless you really want to tell me, unless you trust me and care for me enough to not judge you for it, I don't want to hear it."

His eyes dropped sadly to the floor and he nodded. He lied to you already, and he wasn't going to sit there and lie again. But maybe one day he would grow into a better person, someone who would want to share the terrible things they've done with someone they care for and trust they wouldn't think any less of him.

But today was not the day.

He sat back in his chair and you kept your focus on the television as the plane landed and began to screech to a halt. When it slowed, you leaned forward to put your earbuds and book away, then frowned when you saw the pieces of pink seashells still scattered around the bottom of your bag.

You began to scoop them up and Joel watched you curiously, ignoring the flight crew flitting around and doing all their checks.

When your hands emerged from the bag holding the broken pink pieces, he found himself lurching forward.

"They broke?" he asked, feeling far more sentimental about it than he ever expected.

You nodded and dumped them into a small trash can within reach. "When you threw my bag on the floor earlier."

Joel froze and scanned his memory. When did he throw your bag? Then he remembered angrily storming out of your room and haphazardly tossing your bag off your bed to join the rest by the door, not thinking anything of it at the time.

"Fuck," he muttered, dragging his palms roughly over his face. Yet another mistake. "Darlin', I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," you told him, cutting him off when you unbuckled your seatbelt to stand. You caught the look he gave you and you shrugged. "Really, it's fine. I'm over it."

You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the exit. Joel stood to follow you, glancing forlornly at the garbage one more time before swiping his wallet and phone from the table next to his laptop.

He nodded to his driver, who stood obediently next to the open car door where you had disappeared inside.

"Richie," Joel greeted him with a firm handshake. Richie smiled before holding out his arm and stepping to the side.

"Congratulations, sir. You must be thrilled."

Joel gave him a curt nod and ducked inside the backseat of the car. Thrilled? No, he was hardly thrilled. A day ago he was thrilled. A day ago he had it all. But now? He had the land, sure. He was bound to make a mountain of money off the new hotel, his business would thrive and his hotel would become a household name.

But it didn't make him happy. Not the way it used to.

"Here," you said after ten minutes of driving in silence. He turned and felt his heart skip a beat when you held out your ring. Slowly, he unfurled his fist to open his palm so you could drop it in his hand. Joel gazed down at it, the gold still warm, and wondered how long it would take for the tightness in his chest to ease.

"I'll have someone drop the clothes and stuff off sometime next week," he murmured, sliding the ring into his inside jacket pocket. It felt like a goddamn weight pressing into chest.

"Keep them," you replied, still facing away from him so you could stare out the window at the quiet, dark streets.

"Part of the contract. They're yours," he reminded you.

"I don't care. I don't have the room for them. Besides, where the hell am I going to wear a designer dress? To the grocery store?"

Joel dropped his gaze to the seat, staring at the space between you. It was only a handful of inches but it felt like miles.

"The money'll be wired tomorrow," he said, clenching his teeth when Richie turned onto your street.

"Keep that, too."

His head whipped around, eyes narrowing into a glare. "No."

"I don't want it, Joel," you insisted as you unbuckled your seatbelt. The car came to a stop and Joel shot his arm out to stop you.

"Richie, give us a second."

The driver immediately stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood to light a cigarette. You fixated on the bright orange glow so you didn't have to look at Joel.

"You're takin' the money," he told you firmly. "You ain't got a job and we signed a goddamn contract. Quit bein' so stubborn."

You sniffled and gathered your bag.

"If you send it, I'm asking my bank to reject it," you replied. Joel groaned and twisted to the side to face you.

"Why? Why are you fightin' me on this?"

"Because!" you exclaimed, emotions getting the best of you. Finally, your watery eyes found his. "Because I can't take it! Not after everything -"

Your voice caught in your throat and your lower lip trembled. Joel's eyebrows pulled together, stomach feeling like it was filled with cement as he fought the urge to cup your face and pull you into his chest.

You took a deep, steadying breath and then temporarily collected yourself.

"I signed that contract before I knew you," you said quietly. "But now... I ... I just can't." I don't want your money, I just want you.

You reached for the door handle, hellbent on leaving before he could see you cry, but his voice stopped you.

"The money's goin' in tomorrow. If you feel that strongly 'bout it, give it to charity or somethin'. But you're gettin' that money."

Before you could respond, you heard him shuffle in his seat and open his door, telling you to stay put, that he would walk you up. And in the brief few seconds it took him to round the car and shoo Richie away from your door, you tossed the two unopened envelopes onto his seat.

The door opened and you hurried out, clutching your bag tightly against your side and jogging up the few stairs to your building.

With shaky hands, you unlocked the door and took a step inside. You weren't sure what made you do it, but before you let go of the door, you turned to look at him one last time.

He stood at the bottom of your steps, staring up at you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored pants. It took him no time at all to lose the casual attire and slip back into suits that probably cost thousands. Even after everything, part of you still wanted him. The pieces of you he did allow you to see were good and fun and sweet.

But just pieces wouldn't do.

"Goodbye, Joel," you said, pretending that your voice didn't crack or that a tear didn't sneak down your cheek. He didn't reply. He just continued to watch you from the sidewalk until you turned and disappeared inside, into an elevator and back into your tiny apartment to cry yourself to sleep.

He didn't say goodbye because he wasn't done. He had already decided hours ago.

He was going to do whatever he had to do to win you back.

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[ggomos-maribat]

Double Lives

Damian was certain that his wife was keeping a secret from him.

He trusted her with his life, of course—Marinette had kept a number of things from him in the earlier stages of their relationship, like her experience and trauma in Paris. He knew not to pry, and eventually she opened up. He was glad that some burden was taken off her shoulders.

But this was different. She was deliberately trying not to get caught; she took care to hide her phone from his view, and there were days she'd come home very late. When asked, she'd get irritable but also nervous around him. Damian didn't want to assume things right off the bat, but he did hope she would finally grow comfortable to talk it out with him. And so he resisted using his ‘resources’ to peek into her life—what kind of distrusting partner would he be if he did that?

He knew, too, that he was being awfully hypocritical. He was still yet to sit her down and reveal his vigilante alter ego to her as well as his family's. Damian would swear he planned to rip the bandaid off when they got engaged. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, out of the fear that she'd leave him. As far as he knew, Marinette wanted a normal quiet life after living through the Evil Butterfly Man's reign of terror. Telling her his identity would just put a target on her back, if there wasn't any already after she became a Wayne.

He couldn't imagine his sweet innocent wife exposed to the horrors of vigilantism.

Still, even though he had his own secrets, it felt quite frustrating not to know hers. That was what Damian was thinking one dark night when the door finally opened, signalling her arrival from work.

“Damian?” Her eyes widened. “Why are you still up? You shouldn't have waited for me.”

“It's alright. I couldn't sleep anyways.” And I will be sneaking out for patrol later. He stood up to kiss her cheek—

But froze upon seeing a red mark right at the base of her neck.

Marinette hummed tiredly. “Next time, don't wait for me if you're tired, okay?”

“. . . What's that on your neck?” He dared to ask.

Her hand immediately flew to the spot on her skin. For a split second, her expression changed into a hint of annoyance. “It's—it's . . .” she stammered, “I accidentally hit myself.”

“You hit yourself?”

She nodded meekly.

Damian stared at her for a moment. There was one thing he knew about his wife: she was a bad liar. But she was expert at omitting things, partly because she probably knew he wouldn't interrogate her further. He knew that she was aware it was the vaguest of explanations but she never tried to elaborate.

He mustered out a smile. “Be careful next time.”

She let out a nervous laugh and squeaked out a ‘yes’.

“By the way.” He took a deep breath, “I visited your office this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and your secretary told me you hadn't punched in for the day yet.”

The silence between them was thick.

“Ah . . .” Damian could practically see the gears turning in her head. “That was . . . erm, I had to run an errand before work! Yeah . . .”

“I see. I was hoping to have lunch with you earlier but it seems that you're busy nowadays.”

She cursed in French under her breath.

“I'm really sorry, Damian.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “I'll make time this week. I promise.”

She hurried off to their bedroom, leaving Damian with his thoughts.

He really really didn't want to assume the worst. But his heart was racing and when he looked at the signs, they were clear as day. His mind started to spiral a little, wondering where he could've gone wrong, wondering if he didn't spend enough time on her or if she felt that he wasn't giving enough effort.

But he pushed all those thoughts away and followed her to bed.

***

One Saturday afternoon saw Robin and Superboy in the Watchtower's breakroom, talking about Damian's predicament. He hoped his friend could at least contribute an objective outsider's perspective in his dilemma and encourage him to broach the topic with Marinette.

“She's cheating,” Superboy deadpanned.

“She's—she's not,” he argued back, “Perhaps I am just reading too much into it . . .”

“Um but the hickey? The late night escapades?” Superboy frowned. “I don't know about you, but I don't think there's any other explanation for it.”

Robin bit his tongue. No, it's not possible. He loved Marinette terribly, and he knew—he could feel the same love from her if not more.

His friend sighed, “Look, I know it's hard to believe. Even I don't think M can be . . . unfaithful but you should confront her about it.”

“I can't. I can't face her like that when I am still keeping a secret of my own.”

“Then tell her you're Robin. A secret for a secret, hm?”

Robin didn't even want to think about how messy that conversation would be.

“It's all just about communication,” Superboy continued. “If you're worried she won't accept you, take my mom and dad as an example—”

He stopped talking, indicating that he sensed another presence nearby. Just on cue, a fuming Ladybug stomped into the breakroom, heading straight to one of the refrigerators.

The two men watched as she muttered angrily while looking around for food—Robin could see the clear exhaustion on her tensed figure. The Parisian heroine had joined the Justice League after the Hawkmoth fiasco became public; the heroes were quick to recruit her but not before she voiced out her complaints about the League neglecting her city. Though she hadn't revealed her identity to anyone, she had formed bonds with the other heroes her age, not excluding Robin and Superboy.

Superboy winced when she kicked the fridge door.

Ladybug did a hundred eighty, showing both the fires of hell and sleepless nights in her blue eyes. “You don't happen to have an extra stock of Kryptonite, do you?”

Superboy looked at her warily. “What happened this time?”

“Your dad assigned me to another magic-involved mission!” She tugged at her hair, sitting beside them. “I thought I made it clear I didn't want to be involved in too many missions especially if it's non-miraculous related ones!”

“You could . . . tell him that?”

She shot a sharp glare at them. “You don't think I did? They're insisting it's miraculous related when Constantine hasn't even confirmed anything! Just because Paris was terrorized, it doesn't mean miraculi are going to pop out from everywhere! These missions are affecting my normal life!”

It was a common complaint for heroes who had alternate civilian lives, but Robin was a bit surprised that she was that open about her feelings.

“And—and Batman too!” She pointed a finger at Robin. “I know Monsieur Furry's guilty about the Paris thing and all and me not having a mentor but he keeps checking on my progress after missions liked a damned helicopter parent! “

Before either of them could reply, she continued ranting, “I was going to meet an important client yesterday but they just had to call me in to help with the mission! And then it goes on until freaking midnight! What about my precious sleep?! Then Zatanna accidentally used a spell on me—it hit my neck and now it looks like a hickey!”

Her head dropped onto the table. “How the fuck do I fucking explain that to my husband?!”

Robin and Superboy looked at each other, wide-eyed.

“You—you haven't told your husband that you're a hero?” Superboy asked carefully.

Not lifting up her head, she replied with a muffled voice, “Of course not! I can't do that to him! He's already exposed to enough danger because of his last name! I just can't tell him ‘ hey mon amour so I'm actually that heroine from Paris on top of my emotional PTSD!’”

Robin swallowed. That was Marinette's name for him.

It ticked too many boxes.

He started to subconsciously connect the dots: catching his wife absent at work at the time the magic-wielding team of the JL was away on a mission; Ladybug sharing that she finally linked up messages from her yoyo to her personal phone; his wife coming home late, tired and fatigued from head to toe when all she was supposed to be doing was designing.

“I'm sure he'll come to understand your circumstances,” Superboy consoled.

“He won't.” The heroine sat up, revealing that her eyes were now welling up with tears. “He probably hates me right now because I'm sending the wrong signals. What if he thinks I'm just taking advantage of him for his money? His family already hates me! What if he's filing for a divorce right now?”

Robin felt the nudge from his friend, as if to tell him to do damage control. Superboy abruptly stood up, spouted out an excuse about being called by someone, and left the room to the two of them.

Ladybug sniffed, “Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that.”

“It helps to get your problems off your chest.” Robin awkwardly patted her head. In truth, she was really Marinette, he wanted to pull her into a hug already.

He coughed. “Why—why do you think your husband's family hates you?”

“Oh . . . I don't know, but his father’s always distant. Whenever I'm at a family dinner, they're just very quiet,” she replied sadly. “I know they're good people but I felt like I didn't belong somehow. My husband keeps saying they adore me though.”

Robin wanted to sigh out loud. His father still had his guard up because he believed she was a civilian, hence there was a side of her family they could never show her. It was always quiet due to Alfred's stern lecture about behaving in front of Marinette lest they accidentally spill something they shouldn't.

“It sounds like your husband cares a lot about you,” he told her, “Don't you think he would trust you if you told him the truth?”

“But I can't! I don't know where to begin!” She pursed her lips. “He's always been good to me and he never steps the line even if I'm obviously lying. I just . . . I thought I could tell him before we got married but I was too scared and I didn't want to ruin what we had.”

“But he won't think any differently of you, would he?”

“No . . .”

“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” He smiled a little. “It may come off as a shock at first but he will accept it in time. You will be stressing yourself out even more if you keep thinking about the worst scenarios.”

She stared at him. “When did you get so wise?”

“Ever since I started thinking about what my wife was doing.”

She tilted her head. “Huh?”

It was unmistakable. Those gleaming blue eyes were Marinette's.

He was such an idiot.

“She keeps coming home late, hides her phone every time I'm near,” he listed, gauging her reaction. “Last night, I found out she hadn't come to her office even when she said she was working, and I caught her with a strange mark on her neck.”

Her eyes slowly widened as she seemed to come to the same realization. The heroine's gloved hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Damian?” she whispered.

He checked if the coast was clear and slowly peeled off his domino mask to show his full face. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you habib –”

He was cut off by her warm lips, her arms winding around his neck. Damian immediately melted into her touch, relieved that they finally divulged their secrets. He wouldn't have to be worried about introducing her to the hero world after all.

He was extremely relieved, in fact, that he hadn't noticed his father and eldest brother stroll into the room.

“ROBIN! Are you cheating on your wife?!”

Robin pulled away from Ladybug, withholding a sigh of exasperation. He put his mask back on and turned around to see Batman looking constipated and Nightwing utterly shocked.

"How could you do that to—to . . ." Nightwing cried out.

"Leave us." He glared.

"Robin—" His father's voice was tinged with disapproval.

"Leave. Us."

Fortunately, the two scurried off. Damian faced his wife, who seemed as flabbergasted. He was worried since it was her identity that was at risk, unless he embraced the unexpected cheating allegations.

"Oh my kwamis," Ladybug said softly, "I called my father-in-law a furry ."

"It's deserved." He rubbed up and down her shoulders. "What do you want to do?"

"Oh um . . ." She ducked her head. "Maybe go home and I'll—I'll explain everything from the beginning."

***

Damian had to recount his life story after his wife shared hers whilst they cuddled in bed. After they talked, he was surprised to learn so many new things about her—he thought he had her memorized already, even before they exchanged vows. At the same time, he was mentally kicking himself for thinking that Marinette was never closely involved in the war against Hawkmoth.

Of course she was Ladybug.

Of course she was a hero.

So while she was spiraling at the number of times she'd unknowingly mocked her in-laws in the suit, he was regretting not telling her the truth sooner. If they'd opened up years ago, he would've stayed by her side during missions, helping her deal with the troubles of having a masked alter egos, and sharing his own experiences with her. A stronger bond would've formed between them, because they both understood the hero's life after all this time.

Not long after, she finally decided she was ready to tell the Waynes who she was. ‘It would do more harm than good if I kept hiding it anyway,’ she reasoned. He did agree, since she was part of the family, both as Ladybug and Marinette. The others would surely be overjoyed (and less overprotective) if they found out that she was a hero. What Damian found strange, however, was Marinette seemed to worry that Bruce's opinion on her would change and he'd become ‘distant’ as Batman as well.

“Remember, Batman is afraid of you,” he had reminded her over and over again.

(And Batman would be ecstatic to discover that Ladybug was his daughter-in-law, but Damian would never tell her that. The caped vigilante had grown fussy over the Parisian heroes as his way of ‘making up’ for the Paris incidents . . . But at the same time, he cowered ever so slightly when Ladybug raised her voice on him. Damian's siblings blamed Ladybug's black hair and blue eyes for triggering the adopt-itis.)

And so Damian and Marinette decided to arrange a family lunch to break the news to everyone. It was then Damian remembered that there was one issue he hadn't resolved yet.

“If you don't tell Marinette today, I'm telling her.” Dick glared at him from across the table.

Damian glanced at his watch. His wife wasn't present yet, and had sent him a message about picking up pastries from Paris first.

“Tt. That would mean revealing our identities, Richard.” He crossed his arms.

“Just because you have the mask on it doesn't mean you can do that to her!” Dick argued. “Does Ladybug even know you're married?! ”

“What did he do to Pixie-pop?” asked Jason.

“He---he—” Dick was once again trembling in anger and disbelief.

“We saw him kissing Ladybug.” It was Bruce who replied. “Damian, I never expected this from you. You will have to talk and apologize to Marinette.”

“You did what?!” Jason stood up so abruptly that the utensils clattered.

“What the fuck?” Tim exclaimed.

Stephanie gasped. “What the hell Damian?”

“Holy shit,” Duke whispered.

Damian could only stare at the entryway of the dining hall, hoping that Marinette would arrive soon. If he was left with his family any longer, they'd be beating him up and disowning him.

“I have . . . a reason,” he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't exactly tell them right off the bat, since Marinette wasn't there yet.

“Open . . . open relationship?” Cass frowned.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared at the ceiling—a portal— and from it, a figure dropped down, much to everyone's shock. Ladybug, unified with the Horse miraculous, grinned at them with an armful of boxes filled with croissants and macarons.

“Ladybug?” Bruce gaped.

“Your daughter-in-law actually.” She lowered the sunglasses, showing her narrowed eyes. “And your worst fucking nightmare.”

“W---What?”

Damian could barely control his laughter, seeing his father frozen.

She detransformed completely and scowled at Bruce. “This is technically your fault, furry old man! If you didn't keep agreeing to send me on those magical missions, I wouldn't be so tired and caused a misunderstanding in the first place.”

Damian didn't have time to shield himself from the eruption of noise on the table. With his wife's theatrical reveal, everyone was in different states of shock. Tim stood up quietly to face a wall with a blank stare, entertaining another existential crisis. Duke choked on the water he was drinking. Jason was crouched on the floor miserably with his hands over his face, perhaps because of the times he complained to Marinette about Ladybug's uptight methods. Dick's jaw was completely unhinged, and he was slapping himself every minute or so. Stephanie passed a hundred dollar bill to Cass.

And Bruce. Poor Bruce was paler than their porcelain plates, speechless and unmoving.

Damian exchanged a wide smile with his wife. He loved her so much.

[draconic-desire]

Gosh i just loved your Sunday fic.. 😫

Im wondering what about a naive type darling? With so much isolation, it has made darling insecure. Darling thinks Sunday deserves a better woman and just ups and leaves Sunday when he isnt home. But ofc is soon found not long after 😋

ohhhh so personally i imagine this happening after sunday uses the harmony one too many times on poor reader…you never saw it coming, never would have thought sunday would hurt you despite being isolated for so long. any thoughts you had about escaping, even going outside to see friends, are obliterated. sunday becomes your whole world.

Yan!Sunday x Naive!Gn!Reader

You’ve been standing in front of Sunday’s door, fist raised and poised to knock, for twenty minutes now.

For what feels like the millionth time, you lower your hand, worrying your lip.

He’s been in there all day. Sunday is a busy man, his schedule constantly filled with meetings and Family affairs, but never too occupied that he would ignore you for an entire day.

Your mind fears the worst; even those initial days of being drowned in the Harmony, before you realized Sunday was trying to help you adjust to your life with him, is preferable to this. Did you do something wrong? Who is he in there with? Is he ignoring you?

Has he…grown tired of you?

The mere thought chills your heart and fills your veins with ice as you take a step back, inhaling sharply.

The wooden door before you is polished to a fault, bright enough that you can see your faint outline. It bitterly reminds you of how inferior you are compared to him, a mere speck of dust, a fleeting shadow on the wall.

You start to spiral. Surely Sunday, the most handsome and sought after man in Penacony, could have his pick of anyone—so why would he settle on you? Why did he bring you here, trap you in this mansion, keep you by his side, if only to throw you away in the end?

Did he never love you?

Why does that thought hurt you so much?

Heart pounding and tears blurring your vision, you quickly turn and flee, your knock forgotten.

~*~

It has long grown dark on the streets of the Golden Hour.

The normally bustling city is slumbering, the only light provided by the plethora of flashing billboards that never sleep. The few individuals you have passed are either drunks stumbling home or the stray Intellitron. You’ve been walking aimlessly for hours, wiping away tears and fruitlessly searching for a way to escape to reality.

After all your time mulling in your sadness and insecurities, you have come to the conclusion that you should relieve Sunday of his care of you. He’s much better off without you, or rather with a better individual than you. He should be dating royalty, a celebrity, an angel. The type of person who would have knocked on that door, would have strutted confidently into his office and sat directly into his lap to—

Another pair of footsteps echo behind you.

You almost don’t hear them at first, but you most definitely see the haloed shadow on the wall in front of you.

“And where do you think you’re going, (Y/n)?”

You immediately freeze, your breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His voice sends little butterflies pounding against your chest, begging to fly to him.

“Do you really think this pathetic attempt to escape would succeed?” A hand wraps around your waist, spinning you around to meet golden eyes rimmed in violet. You expect them to be filled with anger, perhaps even loathing, but you’re shocked to discover they are brimming with nothing but thinly veiled panic.

His grip tightens when you don’t respond immediately. “Answer me, (Y/n).” His voice cracks as he says your name again. “Where have you been?”

Words clog in your throat. “I—I thought—you were—you didn’t want—”

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t thinking. I believed we had moved beyond your futile attempts to leave, that you understood that you are mine—”

“But what if I don’t deserve to be yours!”

The two of you freeze in the wake of your outburst. His breath hitches as you lower your head and whisper softly, “I thought you stopped loving me the same as I love you.”

For once, you’ve caught Sunday off guard. His beautiful gaze widens in shock as he truly takes in your form—shivering, tears rolling down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms—and realizes his mistake.

You left because you thought he didn’t want you.

The mere idea baffles him. Standing before him is the most beautiful individual he has ever seen. Every fiber of his being screams for him to lock you in a birdcage and throw away the key—you are a precious treasure, meant to sing only for him. He has created you to be the perfect devotee in his very image.

And all of his efforts have succeeded, because you said you loved him.

His anger and fear immediately melt into softness as he holds your face between both hands, his forehead lowered to press against yours. “Oh, darling, no. You cannot fathom the adoration I harbor for you, the multitude of praises I wish to preach each day in your name.”

His voice takes on a nearly holy reverence, but his eyes shine with an untamed desire. “There is nowhere you belong except for by my side. Finding you missing this evening nearly tore my heart out. You must never venture out again, do you understand, my precious dove?”

You sniff and lean into his touch, a smile parting the river of your tears. Yes, that’s right. That’s what the Harmony said before, too: your purpose is to please Sunday, to serve Sunday, to live for Sunday.

Why would you ever doubt his love?

Why would you ever want to leave him? What a silly idea.

You think you feel a tiny pull at the back of your mind, a hook that wants to tether you to reality. But a quick slash of a knife severs the line, leaving you floating in a sea of multicolored bliss.

“I’ll never doubt you again, Sunday. I love you.”

Sunday’s lips curl into a smirk as he lifts your chin and examines the rainbows dancing in your eyes. “I love you, too, (Y/n).”