#and even if I was kidding it was still hurtful

[highvern]

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists.  Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away. 

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger. 

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too. 

It was fun. 

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on. 

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted. 

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times. 

“What the fuck did he do this time?” 

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?” 

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.” 

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.” 

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call. 

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?” 

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away. 

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences? 

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day. 

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe. 

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic. 

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.” 

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears. 

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.  

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin. 

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge. 

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you. 

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.” 

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza. 

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into. 

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been. 

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go. 

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his. 

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance. 

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much. 

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command. 

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat. 

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers. 

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth. 

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh. 

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does. 

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you. 

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears. 

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh. 

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease. 

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo. 

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask. 

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it. 

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes. 

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.  

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm.  “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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[cute-little-fly]

Fuck, I relate so much to this it hurts, but seeing other people have this same experiences makes me feel not so alone on this. I realized I have never told my story so I will use this post to do it.

This is how I felt most of my school and high school years, except for a few friends that I managed to do until sixth grade of school and high school. So, in my case I have had friends, I have known what reciprocated friendship is like and that helped me so much. But I have also felt that sensation of being apart from everyone else by an invisible veil. Is very sad. I would really wish that we could be able to have better education as a society.

Even with all its problems for me school was better than high school. I managed to drag some people on my special interests like ants and insects. We fed them in school and got in trouble. I also managed to make everyone in school have a tamagotchi because I was obsessed with them. They sold them very cheap in the corner store near school. But I had to suffer so much before that, and even after that I struggled to maintain and have friends and still I felt appart sometimes. A lot of students came to my school only one year because their school flooded, then, they went away and I was alone again.

I remember I had this one friend in kinder garden whom I clung as if my life depended on it. Then, on first grade she told me she wanted to have more friends, to go and run and play and that basically she probably didn’t enjoy to spend time with me. I let her go, because she wasn’t forced to be with me all the time and I didn’t played like the other kids and I understood that. But I felt so broken. Even after that I expected that one day she would come back and I tried to. I had some friends during that time, short lived, only one was very close that was the queer guy everyone else bullied. I pretended to be his “girlfriend” sometimes, but we were really friends. Then he was put in other section so we could barely see each other and we started to have other friends, but still we kept in some touch and I didn’t felt the same trauma and rejection than with my other friend.

Then, in sixth grade of school I found my real and first girls friend group, they were all new girls that came from other schools for different life situations. They were trying to make me forget about thar friend (we never kept contact but for years, I still tried to befriend her again and again) until that moment I knew that she didn’t deserved me. My self steem was so low and I still clung to her so badly even if she barely talked to me, and I didn’t cared that she didn’t cared how I felt. My new friends made me see that, so I ended being loyal to them because they were the ones that actually cared for me and accepted me completely. They were the ones that supported me with my ants and tamagotchi. I think that was the best year of my childhood.

High school was ok I guess. At least I knew by that time that trying to be someone I wasn’t was not going to work, and that I could wait until I found my people. So I went alone to the high school library every day to read and play board games alone. I had some friend groups before them but didn’t worked, and they told me that I couldn’t hang up with them anymore. Just because I didn’t wanted to do some performance in class. Then, I met my new friends group there, in the next year, at the library. They were from another year, so I could only see them in breaks and after classes. But, it was ok, better than being alone 100% of the time.

I don’t use this blog for much personal stuff, but here I talk about autism sometimes so I figured that from my other blogs here is where it fits most :).

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

[kenwio]

Joker's kid reader: Joker's kid first friend

Route: recovered dove

Author's note: Connected to this ask (finally did it ^-^). Another author's note will be in the end.

Warnings : Grammar, fluff with hints of hurt/comfort.

Your day began pretty normally: Alfred woke you up, saying that breakfast is ready. After you managed to wash your face and brush your teeth, you walked in the kitchen, only to witness your family being tired and for lack of a better word, restless. They all seemed bothered by something, and you couldn't really understand what. Tim and Bruce were looking at the screen of bat-tablet (yeah, they totally have bat-tablet), Dick was thoughtfully chewing on food, stopping occasionally so that he could tell Damian to stop death staring Jason, who looked pissed. When Alfred walked in again, you noticed little leaf stuck to his usual attire.

- Master Bruce, our little guest is still acting aggressive, even after watering.

Now you looked confused. Guest? Being watered?

- It's all your fault, Todd - Damian said harshly

- Oh, for the love of God! - Jason snapped - you were there when that thing fell on me! How in hell were I supposed to know it would take my helmet!

- Still - Damian started, but he was quickly interrupted by Dick

- B, Timmy, any luck finding out what is.... that thing?

- No - answered Bruce, not looking up, while Tim only shook his head

- What thing? - you inquired quietly. On your question, Jason and Damian answered at the same time.

- The thing that stole my helmet!

- The thing that Todd trapped and can't get out.

- well, uh alien-plant? - Dick chimed in

- All of above - Tim added - we can't find out what is until we get it out of Jay's helmet

- Can't we just slash helmet? - Damian asked

- Hey, it's can hurt it! - Dick defended

- it will hurt my helmet!

As they continued bickering, you chewed your food, and after some thoughts, you asked

- Can I see it?

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So there you were, in the batcave with your brothers (Bruce wanted to join in, but he had a meeting in Wayne Enterprise). You were looking at the little creature that was in the helmet of Red Hood. You couldn't really see it, but you didn't want to blind it by lightning it with a flashlight. You were looking at it, until you saw that shiny dark eyes of the creature looked at you back, you felt like it's eyes touched your soul, as if you and this little one had a connection

- Oh, they are hiding - you noted quietly

- well, duh, Sherlock, we can see it - Jason answered

- and they are scared of you

- They? - Dick asked, and you just nodded in response.

As you looked at little plant creature, you couldn't help but feel like you understood the creature. It was afraid, just like you, when you were first taken in. You gently reached out your hand, showing that you wanted to, he don't have to be afraid of you. It let out a strange noise, after which he touched you. It moved a bit, and you saw a little wooden humanoid creature with emerald colored leafs poking out of his different parts, which was looking at you curiously. Seeing that you didn't move and was looking at him kindly, he climbed in your hands, making little creaking sound, and you understood what he was saying.

- they like hats - you translated for your brothers.

Your brothers looked eyes widened, and all of them looked at you as if you had just changed some basics of the world like it was nothing. They did not understand how you understood this creature.

- You can understand this thing - Jason voiced first, sounding shocked

- Yep. And they liked your helmet. He likes hats. - you stated, taking little creature closer to you

- So, can he tell you what they are? - Tim questioned, his curiosity returned quickly. You looked at little creature, who answered to you with his little creeking

- They don't really know. They are too little, they don't even have a name - you answered, looking at creature sadly. You remember times when you didn't have a name, too.

- You know, since they like you, maybe you could help him choose name - Dick walked up to you putting his hand on your shoulder, smiling at you and at creature. You nodded.

- Chlory? - you said quietly, quickly adding - short for Chlorophyll - on your words creature creaked happily

- Tt, how original - Damian said, he was faced away, his arms crossed, his face tinged with forced indifference

- I am Chlory! - creature creaked happily, trying to mimic your speech, making all of you surprised.

- Seems he likes the name, good job (your name)! - Dick cheered you up, patting your head, and chuckled, looking at Damian - Don't sulk, Dami

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From the moment Chlory climbed in your hands, he was glued to you, refusing to climb down from you. Since you were the only one who understood that little creature, you were the one who was taking care of the little plant alien since you were the only one who could understand it. And since Chlory didn't want to get down for you, you were the one who was taking care of it, but soon, your family noticed that the way your routine changed for them was healthy.

Yes, in the beginning, Alfred and Bruce were suspicious. Bruce knew his children had a knack for befriending aliens (and you befriending this little one just proved that tendency), but it still made him worry. What if this little one will hurt you? But you yourself asked Bruce to keep them, and it surprised him, since you almost never asked for anything, so he couldn't deny this one request (you were too cute). So he had to keep his eye on you and Chlory, making sure your little duo would be just fine. As for Alfred, he was utterly surprised with decision to keep this alien, but seeing that Chlory could help him with garden, he made his peace with it, and started helping you to take care of Chlory. But as long as you seem happy, Alfred wouldn't mind.

Since Chlory needed being watered, while consuming it, they made you drink water with them. Sine Chlory needed sun, you had to take walks with them. But other then that, when Chlory noticed that you need to eat, Chlory made sure that you ate, by constantly creaking "I am Chlory" that translated in "you are hungry", and you weren't sure if Chlory made you believe that you are hungry or stated the fact. Chlory even tried to eat your food, and drink your drinks on several occasions, though Chlory just chewed your food and they also didn't enjoy hot tea you usually drink with Alfred, and never touch your steaming hot cup if tea after one bad experience. Sometimes, when you were washing your face, Chlory would jump in open water, so you had to drag them out of it, and drying him up with towel from time to time, yet it was fun and cute, they reminded you cat that tried to play with water tap in videos Tim and Damian showed you.

Thouse little experiences with Chlory became part of your daily life, and one that was quite comforting, one that reminded you you weren't alone anymore. Oftentimes, you could hear Chlory creeking happily, and this sound helped you not to zone out. I'm dark corners of your memory, reminding you yet again that nightmare of your previous life was over.

Surprisingly, Chlory helped you to learn how to speak up. For example, one time you were reading a book Jason told you about, you felt how Chlory were tugging onto your sleeve repeating "I am Chlory" that translated in "Read to me" over and over. You weren't sure you could do it right, but you tried, mentally recalling all the times Jason read to you. Chlory were happy to hear you, and those sessions of reading outloud to them lead you to being complimented by Jason on how good you read and pronounce things now.

Also Chlory forced you to tell you what you were doing and what you were doing. Chlory liked when you talked, and you had to talk more, and one time you were commenting how you were trying to put together puzzle, Dick was a quiet witness of your interaction. He couldn't help but smile at the scene and be proud that you were actually talking. And of course he joined in just a bit later, having cute conversations with both of you.

While Chlory was too attached to you, Tim knew that sometimes you just needed your space. He remembers that you told that Chlory like hats, and since he couldn't really sneak vigilante gear in your room (he tried, yet Alfred advised against it) he began quest of finding best hat for Chlory that also can be just a little bed or shelter for them. So Tim, you and Chlory (more Tim and you, who were searching for approval of Chlory) began researching into hats, trying to find a perfect model of it. Chlory seemed interested in berets, and now you three bought a few (just in case Chlory wanted to change them).

Watching your interactions, Damian can't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy, but he would never admit it. It was good enough that many of the animals he took care of sometimes liked Drake and Grayson more, but now you were the only one who could get along with that's creature and not him?! How come! He didn't voice it, of course, but it seems like you got the idea yourself. So when you were holding Chlory while explaining to Damian how he needed to act. He needed to be even more calm and more gentle than he is when he was with Titus when he was a puppy. You didn't expect it, but you and Damian would bound about taking care of little friends. Yeah, friends, because outside of the family, Chlory is your first friend.

---------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ ----------------------

Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinion and have a good day 💖

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Tag list :

@socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla ,  @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @mel-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn

@dearlawdimasimp  (My appologies for not adding you sooner)

if i forgot to add someone to the tag list, please let me know, and i will add you to the next part

---------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ ----------------------

Author's note : My break is over (unfortunately Т^Т), so I would have a little to no time, BUT! I will try to post at least once a week!!!

[rosegolden13]

How TF-141 acts as your ex!!

cw: stalking/cyber-stalking (but not malicious)

Soap is going to all your old haunts. The little coffeeshop you would always send him off to get you both coffees in the morning? He’s there nearly every morning. The gym you’d both go to together? Yup, he’s maintaining the same schedule. Your favorite farmer’s market? Every Tuesday like clockwork he’s stopping there and buying your favorite sourdough. He’s not exactly trying to run into you, though he does miss you like a dog, but he’s a creature of habit and, as many people have aptly headcanoned, super sentimental. A little reminiscing never hurt anyone. It’s near impossible but he doesn’t reach back out, gives you your space, even if he’s going to all your old spots. And when he finally does bump into you… “Is tha’ my hoodie, bonnie?”, delivered with a smirk, of course. 

Price still checks up on you. An occasional text or call just to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. He can’t just make himself stop caring. That’s not in his nature. So even if it is for the better (he doesn’t think it is), he can’t go no contact. Good luck moving on when he’s sending you sweet little texts every week or so. His texts are formatted almost like an email and they would be formal like one, too, if not for the slew of pet names: “Hey love, I just landed back in London. What are you up to, pet?” And if you block him or don’t reply… he won’t personally show up at your door but he will send one of the boys to check up on you. This man is nothing if not a meddler. Whatever you do, don’t let him find out about the new guy you’re seeing. He will use whatever military issued overrides and confitatnial data he has access to in order to find any and all dirt on the guy then send it to you. “Love, this James bastard is paying for five different OnlyFans subscriptions… Shame, that is.”

Simon leaves without a trace after the breakup. You don’t see him ever again. Not kidding. Once he’s gone, he’s gone for good. He’s not one to stick around where he’s not wanted. He’ll miss you but mostly it’s too hard to think about. He’s well aware he’s a hard man to love and he wouldn’t force that task on anyone, never mind you, his once sweet love.

Gaz is a cyber-stalker for sure. Despite the fact that you both unfollowed each other, he still views all your stories. He won’t call you, won’t beg you to take him back, but he will drunk text you (“What uu doing tonite?”, “Miss my babyygirl”, insert any pathetic and poorly spelled text here) which is essentially accomplishing the same end goal. He’s charming enough to get anyone he wants and likely will in order to try to move on. It’s not the same as what you had together and he knows it.

[pretentious-blonde]

for you? always

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you’re unravelling—badly—but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

warnings: toxic work environments, crying, SWEET STEVE OMG

a/n: i made a part 3 but can be read as a STANDALONE, and once again, it is hurt/comfort. i just love sweet steve!!

if people want another part i am down. pt. 1 pt. 2

It might be an exaggeration, but Steve Harrington didn’t think life could get much better than this. 

He was standing behind the counter at Family Video, half-listening to Robin as she complained, not really giving her his full attention. She could have been ranting about his terrible sorting system, or the stain on the carpet neither of them had managed to get out since last week. He wasn’t too sure. His focus was more invested at the clock on the far wall, waiting for it to hit 6 p.m. 

It was Friday night, closing time. Normally, he’d be stoked to clock out and get home, maybe lounge around or hang with the kids. But for almost four weeks now, his evenings had been filled with something—someone—more exciting. 

He was aware of how annoying he had gotten. Hell, even Robin teased him about it, calling him the “lovesick puppy,” for the amount of times he was caught staring out the door wistfully, hoping you would wander in on your lunch break. 

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Plus, if he could put up with months of her pining after Vicky, she could put up with it for a little while longer. 

Four weeks—four perfect weeks since that first time you let him take you out for dinner. He brought you to Enzo’s, the fanciest spot in town, really trying to impress you.

He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face remembering it: the two of you tucked into a booth, your eyes lighting up when you tasted the pasta, holding it up for him to try it from your fork, your giggle when he got some of the sauce on the side of his mouth. He became acutely aware of your laugh, actually. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds. 

After he’d driven you home that night and dropped you off at your door, he’d stood there, wanting so badly to kiss you, but also not wanting to assume just because you let him before, he could do it again. 

So, he’d leaned in awkwardly, maybe an inch too far, and you’d given him the sweetest little smile that told him to relax and pulled him in the rest of the way. That moment was etched into his memory, something he found himself revisiting over and over. 

And from there, it had only gotten better. 

The second date at the local diner (you’d shared fries with him and stole a sip of his milkshake), the movie night where he insisted you pick the snacks—any snacks, your call—and still ended up grabbing M&Ms halfway through the film, claiming it was for “variety.” Then there was the afternoon you invited him over to bake cookies—insisting it would be a fun bonding activity—only to end up with flour in your hair and half the dough on the floor, while Steve practically bent over double laughing at how grumpy you looked in your patterned apron. 

And that perfect night at Lover’s Lake. God, he was happy you hadn’t grown up around here. He took full advantage of your lack of knowledge about the location. It was magical, lying on a threadbare blanket underneath the stars. You’d called him “a total sap” when he waxed poetic about constellations he barely remembered the names of.

He had caught you smiling at him like he’d hung the moon himself. He’d stolen a kiss—okay, maybe two, or three—when you’d turned your head toward him, and the surprise on your face melted immediately into something so soft. It made him sure you were feeling the same as him. By the time he was driving you home, hand resting on your thigh, you both felt like you’d just lived out a scene in one of those old romance movies he pretended not to like.

Then came your visits to his territory. He could still picture the day you stepped through the door, a shy smile on your lips. He tried to maintain some level of professional cool, but the moment Robin saw you, she took it upon herself to tease him relentlessly. “So you’re the one Harrington won’t shut up about.” 

He’d glared but couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. You’d just grinned, leaning against the counter, and introduced yourself to Robin, who then spent the rest of the shift chatting with you while Steve tried to play it cool and failed miserably. Yet somehow, that failure felt okay—good, even—because seeing you click so easily with his best friend just made his day sweeter.

Yes, the last month had been a whirlwind—one that left him with a permanent giddy glow. He liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And it wasn’t just because you looked great in every light—though, let’s be honest, that didn’t hurt—but because you seemed to get him. You found humour in his dumb jokes, shared your own stories with him, and let him into your life without any of the hesitations or expectations he’d grown used to.

Even Robin had mentioned how he didn’t snap at customers as much. He threw a glance in her direction, who was now tapping her fingers on a shelf impatiently. 

“Dude,” she said, rolling her eyes, “if you stare at that clock any harder, it’s gonna melt.”

“Give me a break,” Steve smirked, flicking his gaze back at the time. “I’m just… in a good mood, okay?”

“You just want to get out of here to see your girlfriend,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“She’s not my—” He paused, the flush creeping over his cheeks again. “We haven’t exactly— I mean, yeah, we’re kinda… I dunno, it’s been a few weeks. She might be my girlfriend.”

Robin laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm as she approached. “You’re so far gone, it’s painful to watch. Honestly, it's jarring watching you be all heart-eyed lately.”

He wanted to deny it, but instead he found himself laughing too. Was it that obvious? Judging by the glances from Robin and the kids—especially Dustin—it definitely was. But he couldn’t bring himself to care; if being obvious meant you were in his life, then so be it.

Finally, the clock hit closing time. Steve turned, circling the counter to the front entrance. He flipped the sign to “Closed,” already imagining what he might do for the rest of the night. 

You told him to come over that evening at around half past, maybe order some late-night takeaway, or go for a drive, or just hang out on the couch, do nothing but talk about your days. It all sounded equally perfect to him. 

As he began turning off the main computer, the store’s phone rang, shrill and unexpected in the quiet. He exchanged a puzzled look with Robin. 

Who the hell was calling this late?

You arrive at your apartment with shoulders hunched. Your day at The Hawkins Post had been a complete train wreck. You’d expected to face challenges when you got into journalism—no one just handed out dream assignments on a silver platter—but you hadn’t expected to be treated like the office errand girl.

All day, you’d been fetching coffees, photocopying pages, and biting your tongue whenever they cracked jokes at your expense. You told yourself you could handle it, that it was just part of paying your dues. But this afternoon, when they were brainstorming story ideas for the week’s paper, you’d jumped at the chance to volunteer something—anything. Before you could even get more than a sentence out, they’d laughed it off, practically shooing you out of the room.

You clenched your fists, trying not to let tears burn at the back of your eyes as one of the senior editors—some balding guy who’d never bothered learning your name—actually said: “Why don’t you just get us another round of coffee, alright hun?” 

You’d never felt so small in your life.

Now, alone in your living room, the tears finally came. Hot, embarrassing, unwelcome. You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag aside, your mind buzzing with memories of the condescending smirks you’d gotten. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Made you question what you were even doing there. 

The clock on your bookshelf read 6:00 p.m. That meant Steve was probably about to close. You’d said something about grabbing dinner, or even just hanging out at your place to watch that cheesy horror flick you’d both joked about. Normally, the thought would make your heart lift. But right now? You felt too raw to face him.

Not that you didn’t want to see him—you did, desperately. But something inside you balked at the idea of letting him see you like this: tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, humiliated. It’s too soon for that, you had only known him for about a month. No point in handing him your emotional baggage just yet. Maybe that was a two or three month sort of milestone. 

With trembling fingers, you picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d scribbled on a scrap of paper “just in case” you needed him. A part of you wished you had the strength to ask for him, to ask for comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

It rang a few times, and your stomach twisted painfully. Then, his voice came through, warm and cheerful, exactly what you needed and exactly what you felt you didn’t deserve right now.

“Steve?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve’s tone instantly made your eyes sting with fresh tears. “I’m just finishing up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer. You alright?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice not to crack. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean—no, not really.” You cringed at how shaky you sounded. “I’m not feeling so great, so, um… I think I’m gonna have to cancel tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, really? You sure you’re okay? Like fever or something? I can—”

“N-no, I promise, I’m good,” you cut in too quickly, wiping at your cheeks even though he couldn’t see you. “Just think I need some rest.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” He sounded so disheartened. You didn’t like disappointing him. “If you need anything, will you call me? I can be there in like ten minutes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt gnawing at you. He was so sweet, and you were lying. Well, half-lying. You weren’t okay. But you couldn’t tell him that. At least not yet.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured instead. “Just… sorry to cancel.”

He hesitated, that warm voice going even softer. “No, don’t worry about it. Feel better, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve,” you said, barely keeping it together. “Talk later.”

You hung up before your voice could betray you. The moment the line clicked, you tossed the phone aside, heart feeling heavier than before. God, you just hoped he wouldn’t be upset—or that he wouldn’t pry deeper. You didn’t trust yourself not to break down if he asked the right questions.

Still, a tiny part of you wished he’d come anyway.

Steve set the receiver back on its cradle, staring at the phone for a moment longer than necessary. His stomach did a little flip, the kind it did when something was wrong. He could usually read you pretty well by now—your moods, the subtleties in your tone. And that phone call? It screamed distress.

Robin, who’d been watching from across the store, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her. “She canceled.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Robin’s face immediately fell into sympathy. “That really sucks.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “No, I don’t think it’s… I mean, I hope it’s not that. She sounded off, like… said she wasn’t feeling well.”

Robin tilted her head. “She’s sick? Flu or something?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, trying to reconcile the tension in his gut. “She said she just needs rest. I offered to bring her something, but she shot it down.”

Robin gave him a long look, then sighed dramatically, piecing together the puzzle. 

“Harrington, come on. You told me she just moved here, right? She’s got no family around? No close friends yet?”

“Yeah, she’s new,” he admitted, mind flashing back to the time you mentioned how weird it was living in a town where you barely knew anyone.

Robin folded her arms. “So, if she’s not feeling great, she’s gonna be alone.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated, slower this time. A prickle of realisation stirred in him.

“Which might mean,” Robin continued in her usual exasperated tone, “that you, as the devoted whatever-you-are—boyfriend? friend? something—should maybe check on her anyway.”

His eyes widened. “But she said—”

“People say a lot of things,” Robin cut him off. “Sometimes they don’t want to feel like a burden. Or they’re embarrassed. You, of all people, should get that, right?”

A flicker of memory—Steve himself blowing off concerned offers because he didn’t want to look weak—made him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “You think the pharmacy’s still open?”

Robin gave him a small, genuine smile. “Definitely. Swing by, grab some tea or cough drops, or whatever else might help. And maybe the grocery store for soup.”

Steve nodded firmly, adrenaline already buzzing in his veins. You’re alone. You’re upset. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let you suffer through that. Not if he could help it.

“You’re a genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” She waved him off. “And call me later—if you’re still alive. Just in case she actually has the plague or something.”

“Ha-ha,” he shot back as he flew around the counter, grabbing his jacket and headed for the door. 

Steve hovered outside your apartment door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, an overstuffed bag clutched in one hand. He’d stopped at three different stores, grabbing tea, soup, your favorite candy, a variety of painkillers—everything he could think of to help you feel better.

Maybe he was totally wrong about the situation. I mean, hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe you truly wanted space. Maybe he’d overstepped. Maybe he’d come off overbearing. 

But the memory of your shaky voice on the phone nagged at him. He couldn’t just stay away. You’d insisted you were fine, but your voice cracked at the edges. Better to let you tell him in person than for you to suffer in silence. So he took a breath, rang the doorbell, and braced himself.

When you opened the door, it was worse than he expected. Way worse. Every bit of resolve he’d mustered wavered.

You were still in your wrinkled work clothes, eyes red, cheeks blotchy. It was obvious you’d been crying, and the sight of it knocked the air from his lungs. Instantly, all of Steve’s doubts vanished, replaced by a need to do whatever he could to help.

“Hey,” he said softly, attempting a small, reassuring smile. You looked ready to apologise, but before you could say a word, your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. His heart clenched as he gently pushed the door open wider and slipped inside, letting the bag drop beside him.

“Hey, c’mon,” he murmured, pulling you toward him immediately. Not expecting to find you in this state, but nonetheless prepared to help. “It’s okay. Talk to me, yeah? Are you—are you feeling sick, or…?”

You stood there, overwhelmed, arms shaking as you let yourself cling to him. Steve’s heart ached—the same way it did when he saw one of the kids upset, except this was deeper, more urgent.

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and sank further against him, your breath catching in a muffled sob.

It was all he needed to hear.

He readjusted his arms to fit you better, cradling the back of your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He could feel how shaken you were, how close you were to coming completely undone. It made him want to bury you in every comfort he could possibly give.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.” He didn’t know if those things were true, but by the end of the evening, he would make sure they would be.

You pressed your face into his chest, holding him like he was the only solid thing in your life right now. He felt the tremor in your shoulders, the ragged rise and fall of your breaths, and it lit that familiar spark inside him—he needed to fix this. Except he didn’t know how yet. But he would try. So for now he just held you, gently running his hand across your back.

Eventually, he guided you away from the door, nudging it shut behind him with his foot. He decided it would be better to get you settled before trying to get you to talk.  

“C’mon,” he murmured, leading you to the couch. “I…I brought a bunch of stuff—tea, soup, that candy you like…” He tried a tentative smile, but worry still ached in his gut. Those things seemed rather redundant now that he spoke them aloud. When he looked at you, it appeared you didn’t even register what he was saying. Whatever was ailing you, it certainly wasn't the flu.

“Hey,” he said again, voice hushed so as not to scare you. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” His gaze flicked over your tear-stained cheeks, and you could practically feel the genuine concern radiating off him. “I just… I want to help. I can’t help until you tell me what’s wrong. So… let me try, okay?”

His words hung in the air, soft and pleading. There was so much earnestness in his eyes, it almost hurt. He was trying so hard, and you could tell he was moments away from offering every solution under the sun.

That was who he was—a guy who dove in headfirst, wanting to protect and fix. And though part of you still felt hesitant, the rest of you knew you needed him right now. His soft, brown eyes begging you to let him in. 

It would be cruel to tell him not to worry, especially since he already saw the state you were in. You took a deep breath as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

“Work was… hard,” you start, voice trembling on the last word.

Steve nods, encouraging you to continue. “Yeah?” He scoots a little closer. “Tell me about it, angel.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. The humiliation still burns in your chest, but as soon as you see the concern in his eyes, the words begin tumbling out.

“All the guys at the paper,” you say, swallowing hard, “they basically laughed in my face today. I wanted to pitch an idea—I thought, maybe if I showed some initiative, they’d take me seriously.” You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. “Turns out, they don’t.”

He inches forward, the couch creaking beneath his weight. “They laughed?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, blinking away tears. “The whole room, practically. They didn’t even let me finish. Just told me to go make more copies or bring them more coffee. I felt so stupid. Like I’m not cut out for any of this.”

Your voice cracks, and Steve’s expression tightens with empathy. He raises a hand to your cheek, carefully brushing away a stray tear with his thumb before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know how you feel,” he says softly. Then he corrects himself with a small shrug. “Well, not exactly. I know someone else who went through that crap. I don’t know the full story, but from what I heard, it was awful.”

Nancy let slip here and there snippets from her time at The Hawkins Post. The incessant ridicule, the constant demeaning remarks. It irked him then, but now? He was vexed. Grown men picking on you all for a power trip? Unbelievable. 

He had to school his anger before he said something regretful, he always did have a sharp tongue. What you needed now was comfort, not someone going on a rampage on your behalf.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. But you know what I do know?” Steve continues, his voice dropping to a firm, truthful tone. “Those guys? They’re idiots, alright?”

“Maybe…” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and you sniff, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “They made me feel like a complete joke.”

“No way. Not even close.” He shakes his head firmly, like he wants to banish that thought forever. He won’t allow you to linger in self-doubt. “You’re brilliant. Look, you picked up and moved across the country by yourself, found a place to live, and started a brand-new job in a town where you barely know anyone. That takes guts.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of the day pressing in again. “Feels like it was a dumb move,” you admit, voice quieter. “Like I’m playing dress-up in a grown-up’s world, and everyone else can see I’m an imposter.”

A flicker of protectiveness flashes across Steve’s face. He can’t stand the idea of you belittling yourself—he’s seen how you throw yourself into your work, how bravely you uprooted everything to move here, how determined you can be when you set your mind on something.

“Hey,” he says, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re strong, you’re smart, and if they can’t see that, well…” He shrugs. “That’s on them. They’re the ones missing out. I swear half those guys probably haven’t stepped foot outside of Indiana.”

When you lean into him, relief flickers in his chest. 

Thank God, maybe he’s getting through. 

He tucks you closer against his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ll crush it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I believe that.”

“Yeah?” you ask, voice thick.

“Absolutely.” He gives you a little squeeze. “You want a new job? You’ll find one. You want to stay and prove those assholes wrong? You’ll do that too. Just say the word, and I’ll be right there to cheer you on. Or beat them up, if that’s easier.”

Despite the tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes, you let out a half-chuckle. “I’ve never really been much of a quitter,” you admit, the first spark of determination returning to your tone.

“Didn’t think so,” he says with a grin, admiration evident in his voice. “Strong girl like you? You’re gonna do just fine.”

You nestle closer into him, thankful beyond words that he’s here, that he understands in a way you desperately needed someone to.

Steve’s just relieved that you’re letting him be the one to help you shoulder the weight. Something else he realised this evening was that he hates seeing you hurt, but if being here—listening, comforting—helps even a little, then it’s worth every second.

You exhale a shaky breath and smooth down the front of your shirt, eyes still puffy from crying. You feel lighter, like a burden’s been lifted just from having Steve here. Even with a hint of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice quiet. “For making you worry, I mean. I should’ve just told you what was going on.”

Steve’s gaze flicks over your face. “You didn’t—well, okay, maybe I was worried,” he admits, a tiny wry smile tugging at his lips. “But I’d prefer it if you just told me when you’re sad. I mean, I can’t fix everything, but I want to help—when you’ll let me.”

You nod, fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I still feel bad for lying earlier. Telling you I was sick.” You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You got me soup and everything.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, shifting with a touch of bashfulness. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least try to look after you?”

A beat passes, and then your eyes snap to his. 

“Boyfriend?”

Steve freezes, colour blooming across his cheeks. 

Shit.

“Uh… yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, that’s—what did you think we were doing? I figured we were… you know, dating. I pick you up, I pay for stuff, sometimes we—uh—we kiss—” He falters, stumbling over his words. “Not all the time, but—”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile as you watch him ramble. Something tender wells up inside you. It’s like he’s laid himself bare—admitting out loud how he sees you, how he sees this. And it’s so damn endearing you can’t help the small giggle that escapes.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you tease, reaching to gently poke his cheek.

He groans, cheeks going even pinker. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, covering his face with one hand. “I can’t believe—”

You place your hand over his, coaxing him to look at you. “I like the idea of you being my boyfriend,” you say softly, each word weaving comfort through the space between you.

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and for a second, he looks almost boyish with relief. “You do?”

A small smile curves your lips as you lean in. “Yeah.” 

You slide a hand to his cheek, guiding him into a kiss—slow, sweet, and laced with the warmth of everything you’ve been lacking back all day. He exhales against your mouth, shoulders easing with the gentle press of your lips. His thumb strokes lightly over your jaw as he returns the kiss, and you taste a hint of peppermint from the candy he’d been snacking on in the car. When he finally pulls back, breath a little unsteady, there’s a stunned happiness in his eyes. 

“So…” he murmurs, voice catching in his throat. “I’m your boyfriend.” He tried to make it sound like a joke but you could see the question behind his statement. He wanted full clarification here. He wanted to hear you say it out loud. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Yes, Steve. You’re my boyfriend.”

“That’s—God.” He laces his fingers through yours, a giddy laugh bubbling from his chest. “That’s—yeah. Glad we cleared that up.”

You both end up in the kitchen soon after, unpacking the soup he brought. It’s nothing fancy—just store-bought chicken noodle—but it warms you from the inside out as you eat together, perched on stools by the counter. He slides you half the candy he picked up, and you pass the bag back and forth, bumping shoulders with quiet smiles. There’s something so normal about it—the day’s troubles left behind in another world.

Later, you curl up on the couch together, switching on the TV. Steve insists you get first pick after the day you had. You flick through the channels until you settle on some old sitcom that neither of you pay much attention to. You’re more focused on the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, the clock inches toward midnight. The hum of the television plays softly in the background as you shift to look at him. 

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

He winces a little. “Yeah,” he says, regret threading through his voice. “’Fraid so. Saturdays are insane. I tried to switch shifts, but Keith was being a total pain. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shake your head. “I was just wondering if… you wanted to stay here tonight.” Your cheeks warm slightly at the invitation. “I live closer, and I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Plus…” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze momentarily. “I’d really rather not be alone tonight.”

Steve’s eyes flicker with surprise and then a rush of tenderness. “You—you want me to stay? I mean, I don’t want to impose. Not like in a—like we don’t have to—I mean—”

You cut off his rambling by resting a hand over mouth. “Steve.” Your smile is gentle. “Stay the night, please? I’m asking you to.”

He searches your face, seeing sincerity there, and his entire demeanour softens. You’re too damn sweet for your own good, he swears. 

“Alright,” he breathes. “Yeah. I’ll stay.” Then he leans in, pressing a slow, grateful kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Eventually, the two of you shuffle into your bedroom, quietly laughing as you rummage around for that spare toothbrush you promised. You lend him an old T-shirt that’s slightly snug across his shoulders, which only makes you giggle more. By the time you both slip beneath the blankets, the mood has shifted from the sadness of the day to the tenderness of tonight. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, and you snuggle into his chest, breathing in his soft scent. For a moment, neither of you says anything—it’s enough just to lie there, safe and comfortable, heartbeats syncing in the quiet. 

“Night, sweetheart.” He murmurs and you sigh in agreement, already being lulled into sleep. It’s a happy sound—one that makes him pull you closer as you drift off. 

You stir awake to the warmth of Steve’s arm still draped over your waist. Morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating the little dust particles swirling in the morning light. The alarm you set starts to go off and he lets out a quiet groan, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder as if he can hide from the responsibilities of the day. You can’t help but smile, tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand.

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You push a sleepy chuckle past your lips. “You have to—Robin would miss you too much.”

“No she wouldn’t.” He sighs dramatically, rolling onto his back and turning off the blaring sound. “Probably count it as a blessing not to put up with me for a whole Saturday.” But there’s a small, silly grin on his face that betrays the fondness beneath all the complaining.

A short while later, you’re both in the kitchen, sipping hastily brewed coffee due to your shared reluctance to get up. You lean against the counter, watching as he rubs sleep from his eyes and nurses his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. You don’t say anything about the state of his hair, enjoying the way it falls messily across his forehead. 

“You sure you’re feeling better?” he asks, gaze flickering over you, still laced with concern even though you’ve assured him more times than you can count.

You nod, a softer smile pulling at your lips. “I am. Thanks to you,” you add, nudging his foot with yours, blushing with how sappy you’re both being.

He tries for a humble shrug, but the flush creeping up his neck is unmistakable. “Anytime, angel.”

Before long, the clock reminds him that time is up. He slips into yesterday’s shirt—grimacing a bit at the wrinkles—and heads for the door. You follow, hands clasped around your mug. At the threshold, he turns to you, pressing a gentle goodbye kiss to your lips.

Then another.

And another.

“Steve, you’re gonna be late.” You let out an exasperated laugh, placing a firm hand on his chest.

He grins like a kid caught stealing candy. “What—trying to get rid of me already?”

“You know I’m not,” you sigh, rolling your eyes as you gently shove him. “I’m literally seeing you after you clock out!”

His voice lowers playfully as he backs out the door. “Damn right you are.”

He winks, then sets off, leaving you with a warm, tingly feeling long after he disappears from sight.

When Steve finally strolls into Family Video, he finds Robin already at the counter, re-shelving tapes. She glances up, raises an eyebrow, and greets him with a lazy wave.

“Hey. So… how’d it—” She stops mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at him. “Wait a second.” She points accusingly at his shirt. “That is the same outfit from yesterday. You did not—”

“Whoa,” Steve lifts both hands defensively. “It’s not like that, okay?”

Robin sets down the tapes, folding her arms over her chest. “Then enlighten me. Because it sure looks like you had a fun night.”

“Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It was—look, it’s not what you think. She was having a rough time, I went to check on her, and… well, I stayed over. Nothing crazy.”

Robin cocks her head, curiosity replacing her initial look. “So she’s okay?” She may not know you as well as Steve did, but if you were important to him, you were important to her too. 

“Yeah. She will be.” He nods, and a small, proud smile graces his lips. “My girl’s tough.”

Her eyes light up. “Your girl, huh?”

He bobs his head, trying to hide the giddy surge that washes over him. “Yeah. Officially.”

Robin squeals—actually squeals—and Steve flushes, glancing around to make sure there are no customers to witness it. 

“We have to do a double date!” she says, practically bouncing on her heels. “We’ll get Vickie—”

“Rob,” Steve pleads, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from curving up too high, “let’s not scare her off, okay? One step at a time.”

“Fine,” Robin huffs, but she’s beaming at him. “But soon. I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, yet there’s no denying the warmth in his expression. The truth is, he’s never felt so content. The memory of your smile still fresh in his mind, and the knowledge that, yes, you’re his girl. Officially.

“Yeah, we’ll figure something out,” Steve says quietly, stocking a few tapes behind the counter. His voice is softer than usual, carrying a note of contentment Robin hasn’t heard in him for a long, long time.

She shoots him a conspiratorial grin. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, thinking of how you looked in the morning light, how sweet it felt to hold you close and kiss you goodbye. He looks out the window toward your apartment, knowing you’re going to be there when he leaves in a few hours. “Me too.”

[thewitchblue]

"Stop stealing my shit."

Jason said as he yanks his favourite hoodie from Dick's hands. Everybody comes by his apartment and steals something for the road. He had assumed this sibling habit would stop when he moved out, but apparently, that is not the case.

Dick, undeterred, continued to riffle through his closet. The apartment looked too lively in the past couple of months. It looked like people actually live here and not Jason's usual barren home. Dick held up one of your plushies and examined it. Jason said aggressively,

"That's not even mine! Put it back!"

Dick huffed. Jason used to have a stuffed animal that he dragged everywhere back in his early Robin days, so Dick could totally believe Jason having a plushie collection in secret.

"I knew my little birdie is still in there."

Dick smiled as he held the plushie. It was a fluffy polar bear that looked like it was used regularly. The image of Jason holding a small bear to fall asleep with was too cute for Dick not to feel the familiar joy little Jason used to bring him. His baby brother is still his baby brother! Underneath all that rage, Jason is still the 12 year old kid who wants love.

"Honey, I'm hooooome!"

Dick heard a voice call out dramatically like a 1950s sitcom. You were putting away your coat and humming softly when Tim casually climbed into your house through your living room window. He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to proceed after climbing through the window and spotting you. This is an awkward way to meet his brother's significant other. You screeched when you noticed him and smashed a lamp on his head. He cursed his silent footsteps as he stumbled back. Five seconds ago, you were humming Singing in The Rain, and now you have an injured vigilante on your doorstep.

"You alright, munchkin?"

Jason called out as he managed to finally take the bear from Dick's grubby little hands. The white fur wasn't covered in Gotham's dirt, thankfully, but now he was angry.

You were quiet for a suspicious amount of time, so he couldn't fight Dick the way he wanted to. He went to the living room to find you cleaning up shards of glass while Tim awkwardly plucked out shards from his hair. His head hurt, but he didn't complain, and you didn't apologise.

Neither brother knew what to do around you. Dick wants answers. He will get to the bottom of this.

"How long have you been together?

Dick asked when he got over the initial shock. He needed to know everything. Tim is the one to answer,

"Four years, yes, they know about Red Hood, they've lived together for a few months now and recently got engaged."

You nodded to confirm everything while throwing away the glass. It was weird that Tim knew everything about your relationship, but you didn't really care in the moment. You sighed and lay on the couch after putting away the broom and dustpan. You need a nap, not guests.

Dick was hung up on the word engaged. It's one thing to keep a secret partner, but a secret fiancée hurts his big brother ego. Was Jason going to get married before he ever met you? Dick was frustrated. He asked,

"What was the plan? To never show us your partner?"

You lazily took Jason's hand in yours. You remained in your comfortable position on the couch, but you wanted to show your silent support. You were willing to do whatever makes Jason comfortable.

Jason lightly squeezed your hand in gratitude. He knew they would adore you and steal your attention at every possible chance. Why would he tell them about you? They would all be insufferable. He said flatly,

"It wasn't a secret. Replacement found out about it."

Dick was still mad, but now he turned to Tim with a look of betrayal. He just remembered that Tim was the one to answer his earlier question. He asked Tim,

"You never thought to tell me?"

Tim shrugged and replied,

"It was good blackmail in the beginning."

You laughed despite the tension growing in the room. Tim found out within the third week of your relationship. Master detective indeed.

He knew something was different. Jason wasn't as aggressive nor as self-destructive. He started to pull his punches in their spars, and he stopped bullying everybody. He either had six months left to live and wanted to make amends, or there was something or someone in his life fixing him.

Dick didn't like that excuse, but it made sense to Tim. Why wouldn't he blackmail Jason? He has dirt on everyone, even Bruce. Jason was livid at the time, but Tim held him back by threatening to leak the relationship to the press.

Jason sat on the armrest of the couch you were lying on and kissed the back of your hand gently. He wouldn't care if people knew now, but he admittedly wanted to selfishly keep you to himself. Jason asked,

"Why does it matter?"

Dick was malfunctioning. Why does it matter? How does it not matter? These are huge steps in life, and he missed them? He was going to miss his little brother's wedding! What's next? Adopting kids from Crime Alley? Dick was speechless.

Jason just wants them out of his house. He always hates when they show up randomly, but it's even worse now that he has someone waiting for him at home. You had clashing schedules up until now, so it wasn't a huge problem with their random visits because he could always physically shove them out the door before you arrived home. Now that you switched shifts, you can spend a lot more quality time with him, but at the cost of his family popping in and snooping like they are right now.

You and Tim were watching from the sidelines with intrigue. If there was popcorn, you both would have a bowl. Normally, this is around the time Jason punched Dick and started a fight, but this time, Jason simply dragged Dick and the previously forgotten Tim by their shirts and stuffed them out of the window. He quickly locked the window and closed the curtains while giving them the middle finger.

You walked over to him when you noticed his irritation not leaving and wrapped him in a hug. He needs something to de-stress, and you often use sensory stimulus to keep him in the presence. You murmured softly,

"Sugar bear, it's okay."

Jason nodded. He wanted your gentle touch, but he needed to search the apartment for any stolen property. What if Dick stole your favourite plushie or Tim stole his combat knife? They are stealthy in what they steal, which is why he kept everything barren in the first place. If they can get away with it, they will do it.

Your hands run along his arms. Jason relaxed into your touch. How do you do that? What magic do you have that can calm him so efficiently? You make his loud mind silent.

"If he stole one of your plushies, I'm going to kill them both."

He said gruffly. You laughed and gently ran your fingers through his hair. You shouldn't be surprised by the clear irritation, but it really highlights the effects his family still has on him. The way he tensed when he saw Tim and you, the way he squeezed your hand a tad tighter than normal, and the way his breathing changed to calm a raising panic attack just like you taught him. You lightly kissed his shoulder before saying,

"He probably stole my Nightwing plush. I have the whole family set, you know."

Jason knows for a fact Dick would steal a Nightwing plushie if he found one in Jason's home. He can already see it in Dick's apartment. It would probably be next to his bed as a trophy, teasing Jason and daring him to try to reclaim it.

He casually reached for one of his guns and loaded it. You lightly hit his arm and scolded,

"I can always buy a new plushie. You can't buy a new brother."

Jason raised an eyebrow. He definitely could buy a new brother. He could bring Bruce an orphan and his baby fever would take over. What's Bruce going to do if Jason shows up with a baby who was recently orphaned? Adopt them, of course.

"You underestimate Bruce's baby fever. He would adopt the whole orphanage if he could fit them all in the manor."

You shook your head with amusement in your eyes. You pointed out,

"You would become the eldest if he was killed. All your brothers would go to you for advice on life experiences."

Jason sighed and put the gun away. Fine. You win this round. He doesn't want to deal with his family any more than he has to anyway. He pulled you into a calming kiss. It soothed his aggression instantaneously. He practically melts into your arms. He is excited to spend his life with you.

Your beautiful boyfriend may be rough around the edges, but you love the chips and scratches.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi, I hope this is an okay question to ask. I am s l o w l y exploring and learning what kinds of kinks I like. I’m drawn to taboo kinks and I’m really curious about ageplay, but I’m worried that if I open the door to letting that be hot, I’m going to start seeing actual kids as hot. Obviously that doesn’t mean I would do anything about it, but I’m still not sure I want that in my head. Is there any truth in this fear? Could that happen?

well much in the same way that the majority of pup players aren't trying to hump real labradors on the street, D&D players generally aren't running around pulling swords on random shopkeepers, and my years doing Warriors Cats rp online never made me want to live in the woods pissing in the dirt and eating mice, I suspect that what you're attracted to is the safety of fantasy and play rather than the actual, literal thing. pretty big line between those two things, actually, and most people are pretty clear on the difference between stuff that's made up and harmless and stuff that's really really bad. I use this example often, but I assure you that my abiding love of Batman using his billions of dollars to dick around doing lawless bullshit has not softened my feelings on Elon Musk in the slightest.

I assume that, like most well-adjusted adults, you aren't attracted to children. what you're into is, presumably, adults acting in ways that are characterized as immature, carefree, cutesy, helpless, bratty, etc, and the dynamic of those playacting adults might have with others who take the role of their caregivers. that is... so, so, so far removed from being attracted to an actual human child. I don't know if you've ever actually, like, hung out with kids, but they're pretty different than adults. I mean obviously they're little humans who have their own opinions and ideas and personalities and have a right to autonomy and making their own decisions as much as is safely possible, but they are REALLY different from age appropriate, sexually compatible adults. someone doing ageplay is, like, a million miles from an actual kid.

it's kind of like how when Riverdale was on I'd see gifs of that insane redheaded lesbian and go "yeah, she's hot." like, sure, the character's a teenager, but that actress is an adult woman who's only two years younger than me and we all know that. the idea of fucking an actual teenager is vile. even if I were to see someone and have an initial aesthetic appreciation, the second they open their mouth and start saying 17 year old things the attraction is gone because I've realized that's a child.

(no offense to the teens in the room! you're great and I'm sure your 17 year old stuff is really important to you! but adults should not want to fuck you, is the point.)

so what I'm saying is: seems unlikely!

also, okay. let's assume the absolute worst case scenario happens and you experience a twinge of sexual interest towards a child. that's understandably alarming; that's not an urge most people want to harbor within themselves. that may require some dialing back from ageplay, or a chat with a kink-friendly mental health professional, or seeking out some community and advice from others in your kink scene who may have struggled with something similar. but please, give yourself some credit: you have some shred of impulse control within your body, yes? you're not going to make the leap from having a thought to being an active child predator in one fell swoop. the choice to harm a child, or to seek out pornographic material of child sexual abuse, are still choices that you would have to actually make. and it's making those choices to do harm that actually make child abusers a danger, not just having thoughts. having a thought all by itself doesn't hurt anyone; it's the way you act on it that has the potential to cause harm.

but again, I want to emphasize, sexual behavior is by and large a pretty easy wire not to get crossed with other things. please note the brave billions of people who manage to get through every day without groping their colleagues and random strangers because they understand it's not the appropriate time, place, or partner!

[mywordstovictor]

Yeah I’ve thought I was safe talking about testosterone stuff with other trans people just to get told that it’s gross. Like ‘what about bottom growth though? What do you do about that?’ Not something I feel the need to do anything at all about actually. ‘And you want to get hairier?’ Yep. ‘Testosterone makes you smell bad though.’ It doesn’t stop you from showering, though. It doesn’t dematerialize all your deodorant, though. My happiness is worth the potential cost to your nose, though. "It’ll ruin your singing voice." One, you’ve never heard me sing, and there’s a reason for that, two, go listen to some trans guy singers because your blanket statement is wrong, three, you know that most cis guys have voice cracks for a couple years, right? "You won’t be able to have kids." Bold of you to assume I hold my genetic material in high enough regard that I want another human to have half of it. Also, not necessarily. Also, I could have frozen some eggs.

It’s not surprising from cis older relatives, but other trans people? I’m happy for you and the peace you’ve found in the body you landed in and I’m proud of you for staying true to yourself despite pressure to medically transition. That’s a wonderful thing. But I just wanted to talk about how happy my straggly little chin hairs make me because I thought you’d be happy for me, too.

Anyway let’s be nice to each other even if we don’t really understand each other’s needs and choices, okay? We can be confused about why other transes want or don’t want the things they want or don’t want and hold back our judgement to keep from dampening each other’s happiness. ‘I don’t personally understand how growing belly hair, of all things, could make you this happy but I’m really really glad you have the belly hair of your dreams’ is okay. ‘Why would you want that, that’s gross’ is not.

We’re not talking about thinking someone’s lunch looks unappealing (which most people still consider quite rude to point out), we’re talking about the bodies of actual human people. If you might hurt someone’s feelings saying it about their sandwich, don’t fucking say it about their body.

Anyway I’ve been told testosterone makes you gross enough times I wanna rub my somewhat oily man hair on someone out of spite.

everyone knows that cis people need to be less weird about trans bodies but trans people also need to be less weird about trans bodies. no one gaf if ur scared of bottom growth or thinks its weird. keep that shit to urself. ppl keep talking about normalising trans people who don't medically transition but like. don't normalise not wanting to medically transition to the point that medical transition is stigmatised bcs you guys r freaks about trans bodies. no one cares u think that either ftm or mtf bottom surgery is ugly or weird looking. keep that to urself

[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[alessandra-14]

A slip of the tongue

Dean Winchester x sister!reader and slightly Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summmery: After a tough hunt, leaving the three hunters bruised and hurt and Dean angry at his little sister. But when she slips up and calls him "Dad," everything shifts.

Warnings: none really

(It's been requested weeks ago but I just now I managed to get it done)

Being raised by two older brother who don't really know what they're doing, may not be to ideal but for Y/N that's all she could have asked for.

Their dad was rarely ever home, usually away on hunt and blinded by the need to revenge his wife. So Dean and Sam had no other choice than to step in and raise her to be a strong smart woman. And she wouldn't trade that for anything in this world.

Like that one time when Dean tried to get her ready for the day.

“Sam, do you know how to braid hair?” Dean asked, frowning at the tangled mess called a ponytail. She was 5, sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, flipping through an old, dog-eared picture book.

“No, but I’m not the one who promised she’d look like a princess today,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. He was fifteen, gangly and awkward but always ready to help.

Then Dean also rolled his eyes and glared at his little brother. "You know you don't have to be so sassy all the time Sammy." He sayed in an obnoxiously annoying tone, to which Sam didn't say anything further.

Dean huffed, trying to mimic the motions he’d seen in some movie Y/N had made them watch. “Hold still, kid. You’re gonna look amazing.”

Or that time when both brothers decided to take her to the fair after she had been begging to go there for days.

The fairground lights twinkled and Y/N was full of energy, practically dragged her brothers toward the entrance.

“Dean! Funnel cake first! No, wait—the merry-go-round!” she shouted, her voice rising above the carnival buzz.

“Slow down!” Dean laughed and quickly tried catching up to her. Sam slightly less enthusiastic, rolled his eyes but followed close behind.

They played games. Dean won her a stuffed lion and they shared a funnel cake, When they reached the ferris wheel, Y/N squeezed into the seat between her brothers, resting her head on Dean’s arm.

“This is the best night ever,” she whispered already sleepy and exhausted after this fun night out.

Dean smiled, pulling her close. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.”

But their lives weren't always fun and peaceful. More often than not it was the complete opposite. John's anger, the constand yelling and fighting between Sam and John, the hunting. Oh especially the hunting.

The two brothers were never a big fan of taking her with them on hunts but John insisted she had to learn, so they hadn't much of a choice than to agree. But after seeing how good she actually is at this they decided to let her tag along even after John was long gone.

The Impala’s rumble was a soothing constant, a reminder of safety despite the chaos that had just unfolded. Sam’s face was taut with worry as he pressed a blood-soaked rag against her arm, the gash beneath stinging like fire. Dean’s jaw was clenched as he drove like a mad man, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Y/N sat in the backseat, trying not to wince every time the car hit a bump. Blood was soaking through her white shirt, but she knew better than to complain about a piece of clothing at the moment. Even if she really loved that shirt.

The hunt had gone sideways—what a surprise.

Dean and Sam had both sworn to protect their sister at all costs. But lately, she’d been trying to prove she could handle herself, trying to show them she wasn't just the kid tagging along anymore.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. Ghosts were her bread and butter. Something relatively easy to handle. But this one had been different. Angry. Vengeful. And ridiculously fast. Before anyone could react, it had slashed at her, sending the girl flying into a set of windows.

“Pull over,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. “I need to stitch this up before she loses too much blood. We've waisted to much time so far."

Dean didn’t argue, which was how she immediately could tell he was mad. He pulled into the parking lot of a dingy gas station, threw the car into park, and slammed the door shut behind him as he got out.

Sam turned to his sister, pulling out the first-aid kit. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it. His hands were steady as he threaded the needle and got to work, his murmured apologies lost in the sharp sting of every pull. Y/N tried to focus on the familiar sounds of Dean pacing outside the car, his boots crunching on gravel.

When Sam finished, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to check on Dean. The girl was alone for maybe thirty seconds before the driver’s side door opened and Dean slid in loudly. He turned to face her, his green eyes scanning her pale and tear struck face and then her bandaged arm.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Fine?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration and anger. “You know you could’ve died back there.”

She flinched at his firm tone. “I wasn’t trying to get hurt, Dean.”

“You think that matters?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to stay back and let us handle it. We know what we are doing!”

“I know what I am doing too and most importantly I’m not a little kid anymore!!”

“Well, you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Y/N looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She knew he didn’t mean it—not really. Dean was scared. He always got like this when something happened to her or Sam. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after an intense silence.

Dean sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His voice softened. “I just—damn it, I can’t lose you. You get that, right? You and Sam… you’re all I’ve got.”

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over, and before she could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I know, Dad.”

The silence that followed was definitely awkward.

Her heart sank as soon as she realized what she’d said. “I—I mean, Dean. I didn’t mean. I—”

But he didn’t look angry. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened into something she couldn’t quite place. He reached out, his calloused hand gentle as it gripped her left hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, cutting off her rambling. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him worried and confused, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And it’s okay. You’re my kid as much as you’re my sister. Hell you’ve always have been.”

The weight of his words settled over her, warm and reassuring. For the first time since she’d climbed into the Impala, the tightness in her chest loosened even for just a moment.

“Thanks, Dean,” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away. “Just… stop scaring the crap outta me, alright?”

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He started the car, the familiar rumble filling the space and waited for Sam to come back in too. “Now, let’s get you patched up for real. And next time, you’re wearing body armor, I don’t care how stupid it looks.”

Sam climbed back in, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in mood but wisely deciding not to comment. As the Impala roared back onto the highway, Y/N leaned her head against the window, a strange sense of peace settling over her.

Dean might not have been her dad in the traditional sense, but in every way that mattered, he was. And now, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

[arc-misadventures]

Son-in-law Bonding

Jaune: So... Red Hood...?

Red Hood: Athena is just fine, Love.

Jaune: So, Athena... Why... Why did you invite me out here?

Athena: Why? Well, because I wanted to test your blade.

Jaune: My blade? You were testing my potential as a Huntsmen?

Athena: Yeah. Pyrrha is a hell of a Huntress-in-training, she'll probably become more famous than myself when she become a full blown, Huntress.

Athena: I've had lots of people both after myself, and my daughter, trying to use our fame, or the power of our family supposedly has. I've started filtering out all the trash to keep their slimy little hands off of myself, and my daughter.

Jaune: Oh, thank you.

Athena: 'THank you?' For what?

Jaune: For looking after, Pyrrha such as you did.

Athena: Oh... Well, I just love my family... After losing my sister, and her husband, Pyrrha is all that I have left... So I'm going to do whatever I can to protect her.

Jaune: I understand, if someone hurt my family... Well as the saying goes: 'Demons run when a good man goes to war.'

Athena: I have certainly made my fair shar of demons run. IT's quite fun watching them run! Several of the poor bastards pissed themselves when I went after them~!

Jaune: Pfft! Now that must have been a sight to see.

Athena: Yeah after I threw one out of my house... from the second story window. They finally back off. Mostly. None of those bastards are worth me, or my daughter.

Jaune: And, what about me; Am I worth anything?

Athena: ...

Athena: When my daughter first mentioned you, I thought you were another sweet talker trying to steal my girl away from me. But, you never even knew who she was when you two first met. And, even after you got to know her you just treated her as your friend. And, when you started dating you were more concerned about her well being instead of your own. I always hopped she would find a friend like you, even more so now since she found a lover like you. You're worth your weight in gold, Jaune. I am honoured, and proud to have my daughter date a man such as yourself.

Jaune: O-Oh... Thank you... That means a lot to hear. Thank you, Athena.

Athena: My pleasure love.

Jaune: But, how am I as a Huntsman?

Athena: Well, Pyrrha told me how you cheated your way into, Beacon Academy.

Jaune: Ahh yeah... that happened...

Athena: Pretty ballsy of you kid. I admire that! You are still a bit green, but I can see you become one hell of a, Huntsman one day!

Jaune: Oh, thank you, Athena! That mean's a lot to hear from my childhood hero

Athena: I'll happily give you some training if your interested?

Jaune: I would love that!

Athena: Alright! Now it's time for some fun!

Jaune: F-Fun?

Athena: Yeah, you think me testing your skills as a Huntsman-in-training was the only reason why I asked you out here?

Jaune: Well... Yeah?

Athena: Well you're wrong! I asked you out here, because I wanted to test you out. Only this time without, Pyrrha around.

Jaune: Another training bout?

Athena: Something like that...

'Click.'

Jaune: Uhh... what are you...?!

'Boing~!'

Jaune: ...?!

Athena: Alright, Jaune ready for me to test out your 'blade~?'

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Aura don't fail me now.

Athena: Haha~!

Athena: Bring it on, Love~!

///

Here's another one, @lar-mx

Question: I'm callings this pairing of, Red Hood, and Jaune: Yellowhood. Does that sound good?

Link to Art

[marvelstars]

I agree.

James didn´t need to become a bully, he could have been like Harry or Ron or bassically any other kid his age, mind his bussines and have fun without hurting people, yet he didn´t and he focused on Severus because he didn´t like the fact the girl he wanted for himself was Severu´s friend. James may have not been a darkarts practicant but it´s hard to ignore one of the reasons he bullied Severus was the fact he tought he was below James and Sirius and so didn´t deserve to have Lily as a friend.

James was a good friend of Sirius, he gave him a home and supported Remus but he and Sirius still used Remus to get their fun putting other people in danger letting him get loose during full moon and when push came to shove Sirius and James doubted Remus precisely for his lycantropy and keep the truth of the secret keeper from him.

Them both were lousy friends of Peter Pettigrew calling him names or thinking he was pathetic and expected his co-dependence with them would lead him to lose his life as SK having Voldemort persecuting him instead of Sirius, they were wrong, they tought real life was like Hogwarts and found out Voldemort wasn´t quite as easy to fool as their teachers or as easy to fight like beating other kids at school. That was a fatal mistake. he keep bullying him even after he and Lily became a couple and this didn´t stop until graduation. That´s the story of canon James with Severus and all the fics in the world can´t change those facts.

I also believe they exaggerate Severus "torture of Harry Potter" yes he was biased agaisnt him and usually listened to his Slytherin students like Draco over Harry and Ron or Hermione when they fought each other but the most Severus ever did to Harry as his teacher was to punish him with detention and usually Harry gave him reasons for this, be it because he stole ingredients from his classroom, was out after hours or put himself in danger when the whole school wanted to protect him from Sirious when they believed he wanted to kill Harry and

If Severus was THAT abusive to Harry as his teacher then Minerva would not have supported Severu´s detentions and even add she would have been more strict than him in one occasion and we saw this, say whatever you want about Snape but he never send Harry, Ron and Hermione to the darkforest as part of their detention, his personality and words may be horrible sometimes but Snape´s main thing/motivation after repenting for becoming a death eater was the fact he keep students safe and he took this duties seriously, yes including Harry.

Harry himself would not have gone out of his way to keep Sirius and Severus from fighting each other if his relationship with Snape was so bad and he only started to truly hate Snape because he blamed him for Sirius and later his parents death.

We have been over this for many years and fandom seems to repeat non-stop the takes they believe will win them arguments but sometimes we just need to read the books again before making more arguements imo.

I cannot believe people let Snape get the high ground.

How do people casually overlook the fact that Snape spent six entire years of his life telling a kid—who never even got the chance to know his father—that said father was an arrogant douchebag? Like, how do people think that behavior is normal?

Snape, a grown man, spent years trying to convince a grieving, orphaned child that his dead father—who literally died protecting his family—was a terrible person. No compassion for a man who gave his life for his wife and son. No sympathy for a kid who grew up abused, unloved, and completely alone, only learning about his parents through stories told by others.

Instead, Snape chose to rehash his teenage rivalry with James Potter by bullying his son. Imagine being so petty that you can’t move past your high school grudges, even when the other person has been dead for over a decade.

Even the coldest, most detached person would muster some respect for a man who died fighting for good. But Snape? No. He chose to sit on his high horse—ignoring the fact that he was once a Death Eater who only changed sides when his own personal interests were threatened—and still had the audacity to act morally superior to James.

James Potter died a hero. Snape, on the other hand, spent his life tormenting the child of the woman he claimed to love—while refusing to let go of a teenage rivalry and weaponizing it against a traumatized, grieving boy.

I cannot get over how utterly selfish and cruel that is. Snape had no empathy for the dead and no sympathy for the living. And people still try to defend him? Seriously?

[capquinn]

Does Buggy ever experience injuries being a typical kid or while playing hockey? Dad!Quinn would be such a cutie being a stressed mess worrying about his little buggy

So the thing about Quinn is that he’s not a helicopter parent (anymore). But when Bug was small… yeah, he hovered.

The first time she got properly hurt, she wasn’t even walking yet, just crawling, still figuring out how to pull herself up. She reached for the coffee table, one tiny hand missing the edge, and boom — forehead straight into the corner. Big bruise, big wails, and Quinn? Quinn was devastated. Held her so tight, murmured “I got you, baby, daddy’s got you” over and over while you pressed an ice pack to her head, his own eyes wet, looking personally offended at the coffee table.

Now? Now she’s almost four, and she trips over air. She's always moving, always chattering, always distracted, and then — bam! Face-first into the ground. Quinn’s learned to wait, to gauge the reaction before he reacts. Sometimes she pops back up like nothing happened, other times she milks it, giving him those big, watery eyes that have him scooping her up immediately, pressing kisses to her curls, murmuring, “I got you, baby. You’re okay.”

And with hockey? That’s where it gets tough. Because Bug wants to be a goalie, which means she’s constantly in the way of flying pucks. She’s not old enough for a team yet, but she insists on tagging along to the rink, throwing on mismatched gear and making Quinn take shots on her. And he does — soft ones, gentle ones, controlled.

But the other day, she came with him to practice, sitting on the bench, watching everything with that same serious, locked-in expression she always has at the rink. And when warm-down rolled around? She skated right out onto the ice like she belonged there.

The guys knew the drill. They kept it light, sent her easy passes, made her feel part of it. But then, one of them sent a soft, harmless shot toward the net — harmless, because they all knew Bug was back there, always watching, always involved. It wasn’t even going in.

But instead of letting it pass, Bug threw herself in front of it.

Quinn heard it before he saw it. The sharp thwack of rubber against her arm. The way her little body staggered from the impact.

And just like that, every instinct in Quinn’s body kicked in.

The whole 'wait and see' rule? Yeah, that went out the window. There was no pausing to gauge her reaction this time, no hanging back to see if she’d shake it off or get back up on her own. He was already moving, skates cutting across the ice as his stomach clenched, hands itching to fix whatever had just happened.

But Bug? Bug paused.

She looked down at her arm, then up at Quinn, then back at her arm again, like she was trying to decide if this was something worth making a fuss over.

Quinn was already there.

“Bug, baby, you alright?”

She blinked up at him, wide-eyed, and without a word, held up both arms, bottom lip trembling.

And yeah. Quinn’s heart dropped.

Quinn scooped her up instantly, tucking her against his chest, already peeling off his glove to check her arm. His brain told him it wasn’t serious — just a red mark, nothing more — but his heart still clenched at the sight of it. His jaw tightened, his grip shifting to cradle her closer, like if he held her tight enough, he could absorb the pain himself.

Bug, to her credit, tried to hold it together. But then she saw it — her little arm, blotchy and pink, already bruising — and that was it. A sharp inhale, the beginnings of a sniffle, her bottom lip wobbling and then... full tears.

Quinn felt his stomach twist, already smoothing a hand over her back, rocking her slightly.

“Bug, baby,” he murmured, voice low and warm, meant just for her. “You’re okay. Just a little bump.”

She sniffled again, blinking up at him, eyes glassy.

“It hurts,” she whimpered, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his jersey.

Quinn pressed a firm kiss to the top of her helmet, the way he always did when she was hurt.

“I know, baby,” he soothed, tucking his chin over her head. “I got you.”

Because that was the thing — he always did. From the moment she took her first steps, to the times she tripped over nothing, to now, throwing herself in front of a flying puck like she was made of steel. She was fine — he knew she was fine — but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wired to react. To scoop her up at the first sign of distress, to comfort, to fix.

Quinn exhaled, rubbing slow, steady circles into her back as she buried herself against his chest. Behind them, his teammates hovered — watching, waiting, like they weren't sure if they should step in or stay out of dad-mode's way.

Bug let out a deep, dramatic sigh after a moment, exhaling into his shirt. “I almost saved it.”

Quinn huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, baby,” he murmured. “Almost.”

Behind them, the guy who took the shot still looked horrified, rattling off a string of apologies. Quinn glanced over, shaking his head.

“She threw herself in front of it,” he muttered, waving him off, adjusting Bug in his arms. “Like, it was going wide, and she just—” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, still cradling Bug against him like she was fragile. Like she wasn’t the same kid who ran full speed into walls without blinking. “That’s my kid for you.”

Bug perked up, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I am your kid!” she chirped, like it was the best news she’d ever heard.

And just like that, she was fine.

The tears? Gone. The dramatics? Over.

Quinn just shook his head, exhaling through his nose, “yeah, Bugs. You sure are.”

[sunflower1experiment]

Children (Risk's Prequel 2.0)

pt1, pt2

Harley is so full of himself, sometimes dating him was like dipping your hand in a rose bush. Like him they were beautiful. charming, hell you even considered the relationship with him to be a thorn bush without the roses. But it was the day something happened in the labs, you went in and noticed the toys were crying? "What happened?"

You march by and comfort them, "What is wrong with them!?" The other scientist who fails to answer at first, backs away but then she feels you lean in. "What happened? Answer."

"You really don't know? Of course not, not when you're busy playing work wife for Sawyer." You glance at Leith, eyes filling with animosity.

"Mind running that by me? What is wrong with my children?"

"Ah so you claim them. Well, let me break it down, your children, they are not just toys. You of all people should have noticed the vast majority of the new high rise of emotions and tension between them and us." What is he spouting about!? You look at Stelle with a curious eyebrow quirk, she avoids your gaze and once more you return to Leith's cold side glance.

"Sawyer didn't....inform me..."

"Of course not, why would he want to break his favorite sentimental experiment's heart." It goes quiet.

The toys who coward behind you, look up as he leaves, as everyone leaves. You kneel down to study them, then your eyes begin to well up. "......Prototype was serious."

The little ones start to hug your feeble form, while you realize how terrible and naive you are the sounds of shoes fill your ears. "You, you're different..." A pink hand holds your shoulder, a long arm follows after and hugs you.

"No need to cry, Mommy's here." You look at this so-called Mommy, and realize why you recognize this voice, it couldn't be, not her.

"Marie Payne?" She backs up with a slight chuckle and the little toys cling to your hand sadly while Mommy stands on the ground, "So you know, or you did know. What makes you think you're different from them?"

"I'm not, I failed...I-"

"Then stop wallowing and do something!" Mommy's hand punches the ground, this was obviously Marie talking. You firmly nod but then hug the toys again, Banzo bunny, the mini huggys, Daisy, Cat-Bee, so many of these little ones.

When you leave the toys behind you take one more glance at them, Mommy watches with a somber stare, Harley took you for a fool didn't he? Or did he simply know how senstive you were.

You couldn't let these children starve, going back home, it meant missing dinner, breakfast, sure but they had to eat. Risking your job would be worth it regardless, Leith calling you an experiment was one thing but to be embarrassed by everyone? Over his dead body, whenever you returned to work with food, you'd just make a simple curt excuse, then place the boxes and containers down.

"What is this?" Mommy grabs the food, "This will feed you all, starvation leads to difficult actions. Now come on. We have to take care of the kids."

She was in shock, for you to get back up after a day, why weren't the adults who hurt her like you? Even if you played a role, the willingness to do better still prevails. Maybe, she looks at your lab coat while you feed the children fruits, "Maybe there are some good people."

It was a lot to handle, a bit overwhelming even but you didn't pull any punches, but when you met with Harley, you both were quiet. He was sent to sleep on the couch that night. Three days would pass, and he’d check on you, “Dear?”

“What did you do with those orphans I cared for?” Harley kicks himself, cursing Leith, Stella and Eddie. Those three were told to keep you away, how can he adore you if you know too much!? Your face of revulsion or disappointment, so he gently holds your hand, “What do you mean?”

“Harley, do not play dumb with me, you’re smart and that's what I love about you…” Of course, of course he should be honest…. “I, well Elliot said we should do this for the betterment of humanity, I’m simply following orders.” The audacity, you were there when he argued with Elliot and everyone knew he had anger issues. 

That was why you chose to avoid Harley but you both attracted each other, he was enamored by your genuine curiosity and adoration for simplistics, meanwhile he always had such charisma with that gentle tone, polite demeanor and fascination with anatomy. Were you in love with a facade perhaps? “So you knew, and didn’t tell me?”

 He didn’t deny the knowledge but to deliberately not tell you, why? So Kissy, her stress, Mommy, Huggy, and who else? Harley hated it when you cried, he knew when the tears fell that you’d rebel or probably not speak to him. Relationships were complicated, but you both communicated and that was what made Harley stay, yet this time he knew you’d speak your mind. So he did what he could to try and change the perception of the situation.”You know I love you, I would never lie.” 

His hand falls flat and he clutches it, your face wasn’t shedding tears but they looked disappointed. You then hold your stomach before hugging him sadly, “.....One more question, what did you do…with him?”

No, not him, not the boy… 

“Him?” That was the answer you needed, “How can I trust you if you won't even tell me the truth?"

Why? Why were you so sentimental!? Did you not realize the risks? No, of course not.

--

NSFW, CW and TW // Minors DNI (signs of pregnancy, intimacy for NSFW)

CW// Signs of emotional abuse, self-loathing, child experimenting, and abuse

TW// Slight suicidal thoughts. (If you ever feel this way, be sure to call a trusted friend/adult or the hotline, know that you are not alone, you are deserving of care and to be heard.)

"I'm sorry, I’ll make sure to do better..." You nod into his hand while his gentle gaze remains on you, he may be a liar but Harley knew he adored you, you’re perfect. His perfect experiment, the only one who understands him, the only responsive and reactionary force he wished to invest in after he was tired from his other sets of experiments. He slept in the bed beside you, his larger hands resting along  the arm while you remained in Harley’s arms, you were naive even when you held so much unconditional love for him. His lips travel to your neck, hands intertwined together in the moment where Harley’s lips touch, he notices how much your lips embellish his growing adoration. 

When things start to heat up, Harley is there, his arms will wrap around your waist while you admire him, those worry wrinkles, his gentle hands with calluses, and most of all his gaze. Bed creaking, your soft sounds of breathing filling the doctor’s ears whenever those hands of his would roam your frame. At some point he had a moment of lingering, a longing, and it makes him wonder what would you have done if he told the truth? Would you love him enough to fix things, perhaps give him a chance. It was wishful thinking on his end, especially when it comes to his lover. In the intensity of this heated moment between you both, he could feel your hands resting along his face or they’d move to hold him close. 

His deep chuckles and breaths, while you both share more kisses than one can count, Harley would let himself sink into your arms while he indulges in everything he loves. About you, it was strange to be in love with someone, someone of his intellect falling for you. A scientist with a bleeding heart and someone who was always willing to cater to him.

Harley would simply lose his mind at the idea of not being able to cradle your form, in life or death maybe but, he simply wouldn't allow it. Not when someone as perfect as you, could fit his standards of experimentation.

Every fiber of your being knew something was wrong, even after you began cuddling again, his grasp of you was firm with the iron grip. The way he’d kiss your forehead while you lean into his bare chest, “Hey....if Leith ever talks to you poorly, let me know…and, try not to worry about the toys. You should be focused on our work.” It goes silent, as you cuddle into him with a distant sad gaze, taking note of his slightly serious tone. 

“Okay..”

--

You lied, now you were worrying for the children more than ever, feeding them and then the visit to Kissy’s room, carefully feeding her you note the long gaze. Kissy slowly moves forward and then her slender arm moves carefully; she begins hugging you close. “It's okay Kissy, I’m fine.”

How could someone of your caliber be so naive and caring? Especially when she and these children rely on you, the only adult to make this right?

"So, you and Harley?" Stella tries to make conversation, you merely nod in agreement, even if he had to sleep on the couch for a couple of days. Somehow it always worked out, because you'd still feed him, tend to him, you could be angry right now and he's already slipping through those cracks and crevices. But when he was angry, he was never one to aim it at you but when he did, you'd offer a hug, some time alone or just to talk.

The thing is this anger wasn't ever aiming to you: his partner, but instead your coworkers who could feign innocent all they want, yet none of them were any better than you or Harley. That is why you hated your sense of morals; how could you date a potential child abuser? What if, he hurts....

"Mz.?" You startle when Stella speaks again, gently moving the Candy-cat toy so he wouldn't get hurt. "I- need to check on the children."

She frowns, "Hey, um...If...Harley is..."

"What?"

"You'll come to me if he does anything right?" Stelle asks, you pause then turn to her while she gives a somber smile to assure any form of Desolate emotions that threaten to spill out.

"Stelle, you and Leith know what he is doing. You never told me; we are no better than him and you shouldn't try to be of help when these children are being treated this way. The least I can do is comfort, nurture and love them." As your back turns to the woman who watches your retesting form she looks down, gripping the Zinnia while Harley, as if to mock her walks by with a Tuberose flower.

He places it in your vase, then looks to Stella, "You should focus on work. I'm sure you both will find a way to rekindle whatever friendship you had."

Whatever Harley told you it was obvious he didn't realize how much it would hurt you at the end, Stella saw the signs clear as day. She was your friend, easy to socialize with, but you always took the time to listen to her dreams and desire to care for the children. As you place more food down for the little ones, Mommy finally speaks again.

"I saw you with Kissy, she's being moved...further down, and... there are more...down below."

"Down, below?" Mommy couldn't help but scowl at your naivety, she felt sorry for you. ".....That boy, Quinn?"

What about Quinn? She tells you softly while you listen, her hands grip your arms to keep you from running. Being outraged, it was quiet...

Down below, Quinn, Marie, how many children...

One last thing to do.

You step into the lab, where Prototype remains. "gOoD tO sEe-E you, mY dEAr.." His metallic hands carefully hold your soft fleshy ones.

But you merely look away, he senses the hesitation to speak and realizes how much you knew. "s0 thE dOcTeR t-TRu-TRULY! Truly did fail, you know a lot but how much?"

Enough to where you were sitting before his creation, "I...I am not any better than him. I asked him to stop hurting you, he was...."

"Angry?" The experiment says in his voice to which you wince and then nod slowly, "Yes but it wasn't enough, you and I both know that." Prototype lifts your chin up.

"oF cOurSe."

"I'm sorry, I cannot apologize enough, I so badly wanted to think that, not everyone is truly a monster, and these children deserve the best....as many have said: Children deserve parents, but parents do not deserve children or deserve to even be parents. But I was truly naive, Mommy knows this." As the Prototype listens, he also twitches.

Harley was coming, so he gently shushes you and then points. You stand, grabbing the files but before you leave. You speak one more time, "Please do not hurt the children, and don't let vengeance cloud your perception."

With that you leave with the door shutting behind you, Harley walks in and notices the files. At first, he wanted to start a long lecture about his experiments being disturbed but you hand him the files. "Sorry, I wanted to help you work..."

Harley smiles at you for a quick moment but then you both go your separate ways, until you stop. "Harley."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered the thought of children?"

He pauses at the question, thinking of the implications of you having his child...the thought occurred to him during your intimate nights together. But he truly didn't see the resolve, especially when there are children surrounding you every day. "No, not when we have the Playtime Co. You and I are truly different."

It goes quiet and you leave, but not after chuckling to his little banter. Of course, Harley Sawyer is so full of himself. Very apathetic, very....

Foolish.

Sometimes, life felt like grappling at a thread just to see you survive, the more food you'd distribute the more guilt you felt.

The last straw was probably when you asked him to go down below. ".....Of course, is there a reason?"

"Of course, I want to see my partner's work up close." Harley couldn't help but crack a smile, he holds your hand, like always as if trying to form some sort of emotional power balance. Then his lips connect to your head, "I'd be happy to."

.....

What have you done?

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

CAN WE HAVE DOEY BEING A PLATONIC YANDERE TO THE PLAYER?? I WONDER HOW HE WOULD ACT GIVEN HIS CONFLICTING PERSONALITIES AND EMOTIONS DUE TO BEING MADE OUT OF THREE KIDS

Yes, you absolutely can! This ended up being way longer than I first planed and I'm actually pretty proud of it :)

Platonic yandere Doey & Reader

★ When Doey first meets the Player, he is intrigued. It's not every day you meet someone who keeps cheating the grim reaper. As Doey spends more time with the Player, he realizes that they are different than most employes. You are nice and treat him kindly.

★ His conflicting personalities create a strange mix of curiosity and adoration inside of him. Especially after you stay to help the Safe Haven instead of working with Poppy. Plus, the Player has been through so much already. They really should really take a break.

★ He goes above and beyond to make them feel comfortable and secure in their new home. He introduces them to the other toys, making sure they feel included and part of their little community. Tries to help them relax after what they have been through, also.

★Doey becomes emotionally dependent on the Player, deriving a sense of purpose and stability from their presence. The thought of losing the Player or not being able to protect them fills him with fear and anxiety, fueling his yandere tendencies.

★ All three parts of him agree on one thing, protect the Player at all costs. That means not letting them leave the Safe Haven. At least not without him. It comes from a place of genuine care, having concern for the Player's well-being.

★ He prioritizes their needs, ensuring the Player feels safe and loved. If the player were to reciprocate his care by doing things to make him feel valued, it would mean the world to him. If it's not too much, could he pretty please hold your hand? (please say yes)

★ The player's consistent care builds trust between them. That trust is very important. Never break it or you might regret it. Doey is still unstable at times, and he could still lash out at you if the wrong button is pushed.

★ Yandere Doey is very possessive, he is aware of this and tries his best not to be. He really wants to give the Player the freedom they deserve but at the same time he fears losing you to others and may become anxious if you spend too much time with another toy.

★ Those thoughts are silly, he knows it, you would never abandon him for a new friend. However, that nagging voice in his head tells him differently. It may end up with him subtly manipulating the Player. It was for friendship though so it's okay!

★ He might use guilt or even fear to keep the Player close, making them feel responsible for his emotional well-being. The thought of the Player getting hurt when he's gone fills him with all sorts of bad feelings. Ones he doesn't even want to think about.

★ By this time it's too late to go back. He is too afraid of being abandoned, if you suggest going off to finish what you started and killing the prototype he would have a panic attack.

★ His conflicting personalities are unified in their fear of the Player facing danger and he becomes visibly distressed. It's too dangerous! If you leave and never come back, what will he do? Doey may even go as far as physically putting himself between the Player and the exit if it comes down to it.

[bogleech]

I'm actually not going to let this go until Gerry is at least as widely ridiculed as Human Pet Guy. That guy still didn't do anything half as disturbed as this fucking loser, let me pull up my favorites again:

Gerry messaging me from an alt pretending not to be an alt

Gerry claiming again that it's antisemitic of me to say the IDF are bad guys who do not represent the entire Jewish population. This is not, in fact, the same as saying they're "not jews anymore." Also bragging about supposedly baiting and sealioning me into saying whatever they believe I said wrong. I guess the stupid ass hell thing????

Calling me a "blorbo" like I'm a fictional character rather than a human. Also, I went and got the original hell comment to double check it:

.....This doesn't even say the IDF should go to hell. It says I hope people "excusing" the IDF's actions should go to hell, I just typoe'd it as "excising." I guess Gerry successfully gaslit me, since I fully believed I had said specifically "the IDF go to hell." Thanks!

Gerry accusing me of "lumping them in as pro genocide" in response to a comment in which I specifically state I do not see them that way. How else am I supposed to read them NOW, though? Because I defined that as "someone who thinks kids deserve bombs dropped on them," and Gerry's response is "how dare you say that about me......???????" What?? Not once do they ever simply say "no one deserves their town to be bombed" or anything like that. They absolutely refuse, because they do in fact believe that it's okay to bomb a whole community if some of that community might hypothetically be "hamas." They do in fact think it's acceptable that people who never hurt anyone else should die that way for some sort of greater good, or that only hamas can be blamed for those deaths by "forcing the hand" of the ones with those bombs.

Gerry admitting the IDF bombs, loots and tortures, even though most comments they call antisemitic are calling out just that very behavior. Gerry to my knowledge has never willingly blamed anything negative on the IDF since this comment and continues to attack people who do.

Gerry admitting the honest core of their beliefs and behavior. This isn't really about me, though. I mean, part of it is, I can definitely be vindictive. But I mostly ignored this asshole for the past year until the doxx comment, and now I'm getting more messages than ever from people who feel actually hurt and terrorized by this motherfucker. I've suffered ZERO fallout from their attacks, I am evidently too big I guess, but there are people who change their username to hide from this piece of shit, even fucking minors who dared to say "free palestine" once. Then there's @stoptheantisemitism, who is NOT gerry, but is impersonated by gerry's alt account @spottheantisemitism and other alt accounts, @stop-the-antisemitism and of course @stop--the--antisemitism in this very thread. Creating so many variants is a deliberate attempt to make it as hard as possible for casual rebloggers to remember which one is the real person. I mean, two alts only add dashes to the same username, and the other only moves one letter "p." I have no idea how tumblr staff can rationalize that as okay. But, again, if there's a guy who can't show his face without human pet jokes because he was just generally creepy, or everyone remembers sixpenceee's family having slaves, why can a user devote this much of their miserable life to "baiting and sealioning" people from multiple accounts and still have a usable blog left? ONE LAST THING!!!!!!!

In the notes on this very post, gerry is so bent on finding people to call out and slander they tried to find "misogyny" in a comment saying that women like studying bugs????????

Gerrysherry, the user who tells people I'm antisemitic because I think IDF soldiers are killing innocent civilians (rather than framed by some kind of Hamas conspiracy), believes my real name was a secret that I only just now accidentally revealed rather than the default way I've signed all my web content since the 1990's. Also believes that I have an employer, that "telling my parents" would affect a grown man, that my hippie mom would disagree with me anyway, and that the hatemail they got last year was all me rather than the natural and inevitable fallout of the supremely fucked up shit they say about the victims of a mass murder. Apparently would gleefully leap at any hypothetical chance at "doxxing" me though. Good to know. Literally wishes they could ruin my real actual life because I don't think Netanyahu is a hero.