#anything. so you can have it with him. so you can live with him. again. a third life. and you don’t get it

[promptedwordsmith]

I love your headcannons so I gotta put an ask in here. As we all know, MC can act a bit childish and is quick to push touch/affection away.

It makes me think of the quote, "If you touch me without violence, you'll be the first". Would love a writing about it.

Aw thank you! I hope this is what you meant <3

Caleb

The first time Caleb touched you, you flinched.

It was barely anything—a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours as he handed you something, an innocent, meaningless gesture—but your entire body stiffened, your breath hitched, and before you even realized it, you had yanked your hand back.

The warmth of his skin lingered, and you hated it.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he did. His sharp violet eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t say anything. Not then.

But he never stopped touching you.

Not in a way that was forceful or overwhelming. Never in a way that felt like he was trying to push you past your boundaries. But it was there—the careful way his shoulder would bump into yours when you walked side by side, the way he’d place his hand on your lower back as he guided you through a crowd, the way his fingers would brush against your wrist when he passed you something.

Each time, your reaction was the same. A flinch. A step back. A refusal.

At first, he gave you space. He didn’t push, didn’t question. Caleb wasn’t the type to force someone into anything they weren’t ready for. But he wasn’t blind either. He saw the way your guard never dropped, the way your muscles tensed at even the gentlest touch.

And then, one night, he finally asked.

You were both standing outside, the city lights stretching far into the distance, stars barely visible beyond the haze. It was quiet between you, peaceful, until he broke it with a simple question.

“Why do you hate being touched?”

You froze.

Your fingers curled into fists, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to ignore him, wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard, but Caleb wasn’t the kind of person who let things slide.

When you didn’t answer, he turned to face you fully, his voice steady but softer than usual. “It’s not just me, is it?” His eyes searched yours. “You don’t let anyone touch you.”

You swallowed hard.

And then you said it. The words that had been sitting on your tongue for years, unspoken, buried beneath layers of defense and survival.

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The weight of those words crushed the space between you.

Caleb didn’t react right away. He didn’t wince, didn’t gasp, didn’t give you that pitying look you dreaded seeing. Instead, he just stood there, his violet gaze locked onto yours, taking in everything you weren’t saying.

You braced yourself for rejection, for discomfort, for him to leave—but he didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath and said, “…Then I guess I’ll have to be first.”

Your stomach twisted. “Caleb—”

“I won’t push you.” His voice was firm but patient. “I won’t touch you until you let me.”

That should’ve been the end of it. It should’ve been the part where you turned away and let him go, where he accepted your boundaries and never tried again.

But the problem was Caleb never stopped caring about you.

And worse? You had let yourself care about him too.

Caleb never tried to force his way into your space, never laid a hand on you without permission. But he stayed.

He stayed through the silence, through the bad days, through the moments when you wanted to push everyone away but couldn’t bring yourself to do it with him.

He made himself a constant.

And that was dangerous.

Because the longer he stayed, the more you caught yourself wanting to reach for him.

The more you caught yourself watching his hands—the same hands that had held weapons, that had taken lives, that had commanded entire fleets—and wondering how they would feel if they touched you gently.

The more you caught yourself leaning in just a little when he stood beside you, like some part of you was trying to unlearn a lifetime of flinching.

You weren’t used to it.

You weren’t used to someone treating you like you were something precious instead of something hardened. You weren’t used to someone looking at you like you were worth waiting for.

And it scared you.

Because if you let yourself have this, if you let him in—what then?

It happened one night when you weren’t thinking.

You had both been caught in a battle, pushed to your limits, and despite everything—despite all the odds—you had both made it out alive.

Caleb was covered in cuts and bruises, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, but the moment he saw you stumble, he reached for you instinctively—just like he always did.

And this time, for the first time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands found your arms, steadying you, grounding you. You felt his warmth, his strength—and you let him hold you.

It was so small. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Just his hands on your arms, steady and reassuring. But to you, it felt like something shattered.

Caleb stilled, his grip light, as if he half-expected you to come to your senses and shove him away. His eyes searched yours, cautious, waiting.

But you didn’t move.

For the first time, you let yourself be touched without bracing for pain.

Without expecting violence.

Without fear.

And the look Caleb gave you in that moment—soft, careful, like he knew exactly how much this meant even if you hadn’t said a word—was enough to make something inside you break.

You swallowed hard, pulse racing.

“You’re the first.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, barely a whisper, but Caleb heard them.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the edge of your sleeve in the gentlest motion imaginable.

“Then I’ll make sure I’m never the last.”

And you believed him.

For the first time in your life, you actually believed someone.

Because Caleb had never broken a promise to you before.

And deep down, you knew he never would.

Rafayel

Rafayel had always been affectionate—too affectionate, if you were being honest. It wasn’t just the teasing smirks or the casual way he draped himself over you like a cat seeking warmth. It was the way his hands would linger, the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way he spoke your name like it was something precious.

But you weren’t used to it.

So, when he leaned in too close, when his fingers brushed against yours absentmindedly, when his warmth wrapped around you in unspoken promises of safety, you pushed him away. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firm enough to make the message clear.

He didn’t take offense, at least not outwardly. Rafayel always bounced back with a lopsided grin, a lazy roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Fine, I’ll wait. But there was something in his eyes—something quieter, something more knowing.

And you hated that.

Because deep down, you knew what he saw.

He saw the way you flinched, even when his touch was gentle. He saw the way your shoulders tensed whenever he got too close, the way you shrank away from affection like it was a foreign language you never learned to speak.

Most people didn’t notice. Most people assumed you were just distant, that maybe you simply weren’t the affectionate type.

Rafayel knew better.

And that made him dangerous.

It started one evening, after one of his exhibitions. The gallery had emptied out, the patrons long gone, and yet he lingered, still basking in the afterglow of another successful night. You had stayed behind too, for reasons you weren’t entirely sure of. Maybe because he had asked. Maybe because it was easier than saying no to him.

He had pulled you into the back room where his latest painting was covered with a cloth. With a dramatic flourish, he yanked it away, revealing the canvas beneath.

It was you.

Not a perfect replica, not a stiff, lifeless portrait. It was you in motion, caught mid-laugh, the golden glow of light flickering behind you as if you were something divine.

It took your breath away.

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You painted this?”

“No, it painted itself.” Rafayel smirked, stepping closer. “Of course I painted it.”

You didn’t have words. You didn’t know how to process something so raw, so intimate. It was one thing for someone to look at you, but it was another thing entirely for someone to see you. And Rafayel had always seen you.

That was the problem.

“I—” The words stuck to your throat. You weren’t good at this. At accepting things. At being loved without conditions, without expectations.

And then, just like always, Rafayel reached for you.

His fingers, long and paint-stained, brushed against your wrist—light, hesitant, careful. No force, no demand, just warmth.

And just like always, you flinched.

You stepped back so fast you almost knocked over the easel. “Don’t.” The word escaped before you could stop it, sharp and unsteady.

Rafayel’s hand froze midair before he slowly pulled it back. His expression didn’t falter, but there was something—something—in his eyes. He tilted his head, studying you with that same knowing look that had always unsettled you.

“Why?” His voice was soft. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just curious.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him to drop it. You wanted him to go back to making jokes, to fill the silence with something light, something meaningless.

But he didn’t.

Because Rafayel never let things go.

You swallowed. “Because… if you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rafayel exhaled, slow and careful, as if he were afraid of shattering you. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t apologize, didn’t pity you. He just stood there, watching you with those piercing blue-pink eyes of his, like he was unraveling all the pieces of you you’d kept hidden for so long.

It made you want to run.

And maybe he saw that too, because he took a step back. Gave you space.

“Okay,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Okay?”

He nodded. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you want me to.”

The simplicity of it made something inside you ache.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

For the first time in your life, someone didn’t demand. Someone didn’t take.

Someone just waited.

Days passed, and true to his word, Rafayel never touched you. He still leaned into your space, still gave you that infuriatingly charming grin, but his hands never reached for you again. Not once.

And you hated that you noticed.

You noticed the absence of his touch. You noticed the way his fingers twitched when he was excited, the way his hands curled into fists like he had to remind himself not to reach for you. You noticed how much you wanted him to.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

And one night, when he was sitting beside you, lazily sketching something while you both watched the waves crash against the shore, you made the first move.

It was small. Barely anything.

Just your pinky brushing against his.

But Rafayel noticed.

His breath hitched, and his gaze flickered to you, cautious, questioning.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt electric, buzzing with something unspoken, something fragile.

Then Rafayel, ever patient, ever waiting, turned his hand palm-up beneath yours.

An invitation.

Not a demand.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, before slowly—so slowly—you let your fingers slip into his.

Warmth. Solid, steady warmth.

No violence.

No pain.

Just him.

Rafayel said nothing, didn’t make a big deal of it. He just held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had been waiting lifetimes for it.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been waiting too.

Sylus

The first time Sylus touched you, you flinched.

It was subtle—just a stiffening of your shoulders, a flicker of tension in your stance. But for someone as dangerously observant as Sylus, it was enough. His fingers had barely brushed your wrist—light, almost teasing—as he leaned in to whisper something low in your ear.

And yet, you recoiled.

He didn’t comment on it then, only let a smirk curl at the corner of his lips as if he hadn’t noticed.

But he had.

Of course, he had.

Sylus never missed anything.

Sylus was nothing if not patient.

He had seen resistance before. He had encountered people who feared him, people who worshipped him, people who wanted something from him. But you?

You were different.

You didn’t fear him—you feared being touched.

And that… was fascinating.

So, he tested it.

Little things, at first. A hand at the small of your back as he guided you through a door. A knuckle brushing over your cheek under the excuse of tucking away a stray strand of hair. A moment where he let his fingers graze yours when he passed you something.

Every time, your body tensed—just slightly—but you didn’t pull away.

Not right away.

You always let it happen for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if waiting for something.

And that was when he knew.

You weren’t just unused to affection.

You were waiting for it to turn into something else.

Something harsher. Something cruel.

Something violent.

And that realization—that truth about you—made his blood burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

The night it finally broke, Sylus hadn’t meant to push too far.

It had been a long evening, tension thrumming beneath the surface between you both like an electric current. You had been irritatingly stubborn during negotiations, as always, challenging him, testing him, making him bite back a smirk as you stood your ground.

But the moment that lingered with him was after, when the night had settled and you had found yourself alone in his office.

He approached you like he always did—without hesitation.

This time, he touched your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn’t just teasing.

It wasn’t just a test.

It was real.

And you panicked.

You slapped his hand away, hard. The sound cracked through the air, sharp and startling, but Sylus didn’t react. He barely blinked, only watching as you took a step back, breath uneven, eyes wild.

His fingers flexed once before he let them drop to his side.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, quietly—

"If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first."

It wasn’t said with anger. It wasn’t a warning or a threat.

It was just… the truth.

And Sylus, for once in his life, didn’t have a response.

Something Unspoken

After that, he changed tactics.

He didn’t stop touching you entirely—no, never that. But he let you decide.

He let you approach him.

He gave you space but stayed close enough that you could always reach him if you wanted to.

And, for a while, you didn’t.

But then—

One night, after an exhausting mission, you sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his. You didn’t move away.

Another time, when exhaustion weighed on you, you let him take your wrist to check your pulse, your fingers trembling slightly—but not from fear.

And then, the night that changed everything—

You let him touch your face again.

This time, when his hand cradled your cheek, you leaned into it.

Not much. Just a fraction. Just enough that he could feel the shift.

Just enough for him to know.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Slowly, deliberately, his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his voice low when he finally spoke:

"I would never hurt you."

Your breath hitched.

He felt it.

He didn’t ask why it was so hard for you to believe him. He didn’t ask who had left you expecting pain from every touch, from every lingering moment.

He only let his hand remain where it was, grounding, steady—yours, if you wanted it.

And finally, you did.

You didn’t say anything that night. You didn’t have to.

But after that, something changed.

Sylus, perceptive as always, noticed immediately.

The way your body no longer tensed at his presence. The way you lingered just a little closer when you stood beside him. The way your fingers, hesitant at first, brushed against the sleeve of his coat as if testing a boundary you weren’t sure you were allowed to cross.

And the way, eventually, you did.

It happened late one evening, when the city outside was silent, the only sounds in the room the distant hum of a record player spinning on low and the soft shuffle of papers on his desk.

You had been sitting across from him, absentmindedly twirling a pen between your fingers when, out of nowhere—you reached for him.

Your hand, small but steady, settled against his.

No hesitation. No flinching. No fear.

Sylus, always composed, almost stopped breathing.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

But his fingers curled over yours, slow, deliberate—a silent promise.

A promise that, for the first time in your life, someone’s touch wouldn’t bring pain.

And that was enough.

For now.

Xavier

The first time Xavier reached for you, you flinched.

It was instinct, sharp and immediate. His fingers had barely brushed your sleeve before you jerked away, stepping out of reach so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, tilting his head as if trying to decipher something unsaid.

You weren’t looking at him, though. You were staring at your own hands, fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles tight. Get it together.

"You okay?" His voice was light, easy, like he hadn’t just watched you recoil from his touch as if it burned.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Just—" You hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "You shouldn’t do that."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with something colder than you really felt. "Touch me."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before his expression shifted back to something more familiar—a smirk, teasing but careful. "Alright," he said, as if it didn’t matter. "No touching."

Except it did matter. Because Xavier wasn’t someone who kept his hands to himself—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made him feel real. He was the kind of person who nudged you with his elbow when he made a joke, who ruffled your hair just to annoy you, who tugged at your sleeve when he wanted your attention.

But he listened.

For the next few weeks, he was careful. He kept his distance, kept his hands in his pockets, kept a respectable space between the two of you even when it was just the two of you on a mission, walking side by side.

And for some reason, it made your chest ache.

You wanted him close.

You just didn’t know how to let him be.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. If anything, that was the problem.

Xavier had wormed his way into your life in a way no one else had before. He was constant—too constant, maybe. There was no hesitation in the way he cared, no moment of doubt in his affection. He liked you, so he showed it. He wanted to be around you, so he was. There was no second-guessing, no caution.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Because affection had always come with conditions. Because touches had always been accompanied by something sharp—by expectation, by control, by violence.

So the idea of Xavier touching you with nothing but warmth?

It scared you more than any fight ever had.

"You ever gonna tell me why?"

You blinked up from where you sat at the edge of a rooftop, staring out at the cityscape below. Xavier was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

"Why what?"

"Why you don’t like me touching you." His voice wasn’t accusing, wasn’t pushing—it was just curious.

You swallowed. "I just don’t."

Xavier hummed, as if considering that. "You sure about that?"

You tensed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, stepping forward—not close, but closer. "I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes."

Your heart skipped. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupted, voice softer now. "Like you want me to reach for you, but you don’t know if you should let me."

You exhaled sharply. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me."

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeves, gripping tightly. You should have expected this—Xavier wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He was patient, sure, but he wasn’t blind. He noticed things, noticed you.

And now, he was waiting.

You stared at your hands. "If you touch me without violence," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "you’ll be the first."

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he might not have heard you. But then, after a long pause, Xavier let out a quiet breath.

"That’s a damn shame," he said. His voice was soft, but not pitying. "Because you deserve better than that."

You didn’t look at him. "Maybe."

"You do," he said, firmer this time. "And I want to prove it to you."

Your breath hitched. "Xavier—"

"I won’t touch you until you want me to," he promised. "But when you do?" His gaze was steady, unwavering. "I’ll make sure you never have to doubt it."

It took time.

Xavier kept his promise. He didn’t touch you—not even accidentally. He was careful, patient in a way that made your chest ache. But he never pulled away emotionally. He was still there, still unwavering, still him.

And slowly, slowly, you started to realize something.

You wanted to close that distance.

You wanted him.

It started small—lingering closer when you walked together, sitting next to him instead of across the room, letting your shoulders brush just slightly before pulling away. And Xavier noticed. He always did.

But he didn’t push.

He let you take your time, let you move at your own pace.

Until one night, after a mission, when you were exhausted and sore and tired of your own fear, you turned to him and—hesitantly, carefully—reached for his hand.

His fingers twitched in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. He let you take his hand in yours, let you squeeze it lightly before letting go just as quickly.

You expected him to say something—maybe tease you, maybe push for more. But he didn’t. He just smiled, warm and real.

"Was that so bad?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

Xavier chuckled, but there was something softer in his gaze. "Alright. No teasing. Not today, anyway."

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. "I hate you."

He grinned. "You love me."

You paused.

Then, quietly, you admitted, "Yeah."

Xavier stilled. His smile faltered—just for a second—before it softened into something genuine. Something real.

"Good," he murmured.

And for the first time, when he reached for you, you didn’t pull away.

Zayne

Zayne had always been patient. It was in his nature, woven into the fabric of his being just as much as his steady hands and level-headed presence. As a surgeon, patience was a necessity—an unwavering calm in the face of pressure, a stillness when chaos reigned.

But this was different.

This was you.

You, with your guarded eyes and the walls you built around yourself so high that even he, with all his skill, couldn’t navigate them easily. He had known from the start that you were different—not because you were difficult, not because you weren’t capable of love, but because the world had been cruel to you in ways it hadn’t been to him.

And still, he wanted you.

It started slow. The quiet companionship, the moments where neither of you needed to speak but simply existed together. A shared cup of tea in the morning. The warmth of his coat draped over your shoulders on a cold night. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give, and yet…

Even he had limits to his patience.

Zayne had always been affectionate. Not in a way that was overwhelming, nor in grand declarations. No, his love was in the small things—in the way his fingers would brush against yours when passing you something, in the way his voice would soften when speaking your name, in the way he would lean in, close enough that you could feel his warmth but never quite touching.

And so, when he reached for you one evening—just a simple touch, the lightest brush of his fingertips against your wrist—he hadn’t expected you to recoil the way you did.

You flinched, your entire body going rigid, as if his touch had burned you.

Zayne froze. His hazel-green eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly withdrew his hand, watching you carefully. He wasn’t offended, nor was he hurt, but there was something in his expression that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I—”

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and sharp. The room felt heavier in their wake, like the air had been sucked from it.

Zayne didn’t speak for a moment. He simply looked at you, studying you in that careful way he always did—like he was dissecting a puzzle, trying to understand without breaking it further.

You hated the silence. Hated the way it stretched between you like an open wound.

Then, finally, he exhaled softly.

“I see.”

And just like that, he shifted back, putting a comfortable distance between you. Not out of rejection, not out of frustration, but because he understood. He always understood.

You expected him to ask. To pry. To demand to know what had led you to this—why you had flinched, why you had spoken those words with such bitterness. But he didn’t.

He simply nodded, accepting it as fact, and changed the subject.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

Because Zayne, for all his patience and for all his understanding, was not one to simply forget.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Zayne hadn’t touched you since.

Not in the way he used to. No fleeting brushes of his fingertips, no teasing nudges, no quiet, lingering moments where his warmth bled into yours. It was as if he had drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it.

You told yourself it was for the best.

So why did it feel so much worse?

You had never needed touch. Never craved it, never longed for it. But now, in the absence of it, you felt its loss like a phantom pain. You missed it.

You missed him.

And so, when you found yourself standing outside his apartment one evening, your fingers curled into fists at your sides, you knew you had to do something.

The door opened before you could even knock.

Zayne blinked at you, surprised but not displeased. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you in.

You hesitated.

And then, taking a deep breath, you walked past him, into the familiar warmth of his home.

He didn’t ask why you were there.

He simply poured you tea, as he always did, and waited.

You stared at the cup in your hands, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

“I don’t…” You hesitated. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly, watching you with quiet patience. “Stop what?”

You swallowed. “Touching me.”

For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely surprised. Not in a dramatic way—Zayne was never dramatic—but in the way his fingers stilled against his cup, in the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“I did.” Your throat felt tight. “I do. But I also… I don’t know.” You exhaled sharply. “I just… don’t want you to stop trying.”

Something in his expression shifted.

He set his cup down carefully before looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. Not with judgment, not with pity—just understanding.

“I never stopped,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

“I just adjusted,” he continued. “To what you needed.”

And you realized, with startling clarity, that he had been touching you. Just not in the way you had expected.

It was in the way he always made you tea, the way he listened so intently, the way he never pushed, never pried, but always made sure you knew he was there.

He had been touching you in the only way you would allow.

And now? Now, you wanted more.

Tentatively, hesitantly, you reached out.

Your fingers brushed against the back of his hand, and you felt him still beneath your touch.

It was light. Barely there. But it was enough.

Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t push for more.

He simply let you choose.

And, for the first time in your life, you did.

You let yourself be touched—gently, without violence, without fear.

Zayne, patient as ever, simply held still and let you set the pace.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

mean!rafe slowly getting soft for reader but she realizes what sort of sick person he really is so she leaves him and now rafe is the desperate one (this would be really appreciated pretty!!!)

i loved, i loved, i loved you

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — talks of murder, stalking, manipulation

summary — after overhearing a conversation between your boyfriend and his best friend, you begin to rethink your decisions.

authors note — can be read as a standalone but is apart of the mean!rafe series. part 1 is “i just wanna be one of your girls” and part 2 is “but i’ll do anything for you.” i’ll probably make a masterlist for this cause it’s probably going to end up turning into a series tbh so lmk if i should do that! please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“baby?” you heard him call out from the living room as the front door shut. he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack then followed the smell of food into the kitchen where you stood all pretty. you had a cute little pink sundress on, a white apron with a ribbon adorning the middle, and your hair was perfectly curled. “you look like a fucking dream.”

he walked over to where you were standing and pulled you into him with his big hands lightly squeezing at your hips. “thank you, rafe. i made your favorite,” you replied with a smile on your glossed lips as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “how was work?”

a sigh left his lips and his body tensed. “same thing as usual. nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he said with a kiss to your temple. “i missed you, angel.”

you frowned slightly and hugged him. “i missed you too, rafe.” you nuzzled into his chest deeper and he held you close, taking in the delightful scent of your shampoo. you pulled away a little sooner than he would’ve liked and pulled out his designated chair at the table. “why don’t you eat before the food gets cold?”

he nodded and sat down, laying the napkin over his lap and unraveling one pack of utensils you spent your afternoon packaging up to look professional. you sat across from him in your own seat and waited for him to take his first bite before beginning to eat your own.

he wrapped up some of the noodles on his fork and placed it carefully into his mouth while you sucked in a breath and waited for his validation. “it’s amazing, sweetheart,” he praised while getting more onto his fork. “you always prepare the best, you know that.”

you smiled to yourself and glanced down at your own plate, a red blush spreading across your cheeks. you began to eat as you two sat in a comfortable silence and enjoyed the pasta.

once he finished and was getting ready to get up and place his dish in the sink, you stood and beat him to it. “i’ve got it,” you said softly. you knew how long and draining his work days were and you’d do anything to make the rest of his day better.

“thank you, angel,” he replied gratefully while standing and brushing past you with a loving squeeze to your hip. “i’ve gotta finish up some stuff on my laptop. i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

you nodded and began to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. once you were all finished, you neatly folded your apron and placed it in the closet in the living room before heading up the stairs and to the office to see if he needed anything. before you could even knock, you heard a loud bang, which you assumed was his fist against his desk.

“goddamnit barry! i fuckin’ told you that i had it handled,” he spat into his phone. “i took care of him, alright? they got rid of the body, the evidence, all of it and now you’re over here screwing it up.”

the body? you placed a hand over your mouth to cover the sob threatening to slip past your lips. you pressed your ear closer to the door and waited for him to speak again.

you heard him curse under his breath and laugh angrily. “it was all going to plan and then—“ he paused. “get rid of him. do whatever you have to do, just fuckin’ get rid of him. i’ll do it myself if i have to.”

a tear hit your hand and you quickly backed away from the door and quietly walked into your shared bedroom. you immediately began throwing clothes into a bag until you heard the office door open. you shoved it under your bed and sat at the edge of it.

he came in and immediately made his way over to you, kneeling in front of you and holding your hands in his. “hey. what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

you just shook your head and faked a sad smile. “i jus’ miss you, rafe,” you lied as convincingly as you could.

he sighed. “i know, baby. and i’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. “look. i gotta go handle something really quick but we can spend the whole night together the moment i get back, ok? i promise.”

a shaky breath left your lips as you nodded and allowed him to kiss you then your forehead as he stood and made his way out towards the front door. the moment you heard it shut, you packed everything you could and sprinted out towards your car. you didn’t know how much time you had until he got back.

you were quick to disable your location on everything and turn on do not disturb before speeding off towards your parents house an hour away. you hoped it would be far enough and undisclosed so he’d never find you.

and only 30 minutes into the drive, you had 72 missed calls and 101 texts from rafe.

[weoris]

BIRTHDAY BOY ‎ ❪ 엔하이픈 ꔫ 양정원 ❫

O1 ✉️ each year you stress on making his ‎ ‎ birthday even better than the last. who knew ‎that all he ‎ ‎ needed was his favourite girl?

O ୨୧ 2 childhood friends to lovers | birthday au. ‎ 💼 ׂ  ׅ shy! jungwon x fem!reader fluff ‎ ‎ alcohol kissing 2.7k wc.

‎ ❛ clickhere! 🎀 dailytoo! ❜

2016 ━━━ THE 12TH BIRTHDAY

another huff of frustration left your lips, as you panted and wiped the sweat off your forehead. your mom chuckled while placing the sprinkles on his cake, as she looked at how focused you were on blowing the balloon.

“Honey relax.. you’ve been at it for Jungwonie’s not going to focus on one balloon for his birthday.”

your mother said softly, making you glare at her and shake your head, “You don’t get it, everything has to be perfect!”

she rolled her eyes and nudged Jungwon’s mom’s arm, as the two women chuckled.. it was adorable how hyper fixated you always were on birthdays of your best friends. your mom didn’t even want to begin thinking about how crazy you got on your own special days..

tons of other elementary school kids started to fill in Jungwon’s house a few hours later, and you watched from afar with a little prideful grin on your face. yeah, you did that. invitations were your job! and you took these sorts of jobs very seriously.

“Guys! I see him!” Minji exclaimed, her voice echoing off the living room walls as she saw his mom’s car parking outside. All the kids shushed each other, hiding behind the couch, the counter, the plants.. anything.. as you giggled and turned off the lights hurriedly.

Jungwon let out a content sighed with a grin in his mom’s car as he licked the spoon of cake icing. he had just gotten his own little birthday celebration at taekwondo practise, his coach and teammates singing him happy birthday and even getting some cake slices!

“Don’t eat too much, we still have dinner at home..” his mom playfully scolded, parking in the driveway as she looked through the mirror.

Jungwon smiled shyly mid-lick, giggling a bit as he got caught, putting the dessert down. “Sorry, mom~”

His mom chuckled and shook her head, as Jungwon removed his seatbelt and they both started walking up to their house. “Mom? Is y/n not coming over?” He suddenly asked, making her sigh again.

“Sorry sweetie, she has to stay over at her aunts house for another week.. her parents will be there! you’ll still get your present from her!” His mom replied, trying to bite back a smile.. jungwon nodded but a pout grew on his face as he looked down..

it wasn’t really the present he wanted..

“Yeah.. I can always see her at school-” Jungwon muttered, trying to be optimistic even when his eyes showed disappointment..

“Surprise!” but suddenly, his saddened eyes sparkled in shock and adoration.. his eyes sprawled across the room.. the chocolate cake on the table, cat and bts themed birthday ballon’s, all of his friends.. you..? you were here?! was this real?

“H-Happy Birthday!” You started awkwardly, causing a chain reaction as everyone in the room cheered as well.

Jungwon chuckled shyly and rubbed his neck, looking down at you.. “You told me you were going out of town.. did you plan all of this?” He muttered quietly, as you shrugged in a playful manner. “Maybe?” tilting your head, you giggled and ruffled his hair.

He bit his lip, closing his eyes.. while letting you mess up his hair. “You.. you’re so..” jungwon whispered, chuckling a bit as he looked down at you.. while you tilted your head and raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “Hm?”

“Let’s go dude!!” his friends grabbed his shoulders suddenly pulled him in to the party, disturbing your cute moment..

You giggled and looked over at him, how he seemed so shocked at the sudden action. you hoped he’d have fun tho.. after all, you had planned out only all of his favourite party games ever!

Jungwon hummed as he looked out on the night sky, not really paying attention to his friends leaving with their parents down the road.. or the fact that his house was a mess downstairs.

he just stared at the pretty stars in the night sky, the 10 o’clock hour making him feel almost scandalous for staying past his bedtime..

but another thing itched the back of his mind. Jungwon loved all the gifts, all the party games and of course the cake.. but he hadn’t been able to spend much time with you.

he didn’t have time to thank you for the surprise, he didn’t receive your gift, he could barely even see you from all the music and dancing his friends forced him in to!

Plus.. jungwon felt too shy to admit wanting to spend time with you. he knew his friends would tease him, everyone already teased you both relentlessly! And anytime that happened, he risked the chance of spilling out his secret feelings..

He sighed and leaned back against the wall of his balcony, sitting on the wooden floor with his knees tucked, his arms resting atop.

“Hey.. What are you doing here? On.. the ground..” You whined a little, peeking out from the door. “You should be helping your parents and I clean up!”

Jungwon couldn’t help but smile at your complaining, looking at you from the side. “Mhm.. sorry.. I’ll be there..” he hummed quietly, eyes trailing down to the ground again.

You didn’t know why, but you felt a bit guilty.. he seemed to be a bit troubled, why not lend a shoulder to rest on? “..actually it’s fine.. the birthday boy shouldn’t clean up~” you cooed gently, sighing before joining him on the floor.

He sighed and smiled, looking down and fiddling with his fingers again. “I can clean up..” he added, wanting to be of help, but you smacked your lips and nudged him.

“Tch.. I just excused your chore, and now you wanna do em? Seriously.. what kind of kid are you?” you huffed, making him giggle again as he kept his eyes down.. he couldn’t look you up in the eye..

but he noticed the floor was pretty dirty, and your white skirt was sat on it. he frowned and poked your thigh, grabbing your attention. “Don’t sit there.. you’ll dirty your skirt. you can rest on my bed, if you’d like?” Jungwon whispered, making you blush a little at how sweet he was..

You smiled but shook your head. “It’s ok..” you whispered. “I wanna spend time with you..”

Jungwon froze for a moment, before gulping and nodding.. trying to appear calm. only, he had to turn his face away from you and keep his hand over his mouth to hide his reddening cheeks and shy grin. You giggled again at how cute he looked, but didn’t push it..

“So.. you enjoyed the party?” you asked gently again, making him nod immediately, still playing with his fingers. “Mhm..” he hummed.

“Only.. I couldn’t find you for most of it..” jungwon admitted, feeling his heart race at how bold he suddenly felt. you smirked and looked at him. “Missed me?”

he chewed his inner lip, sighing a bit as he looked up at the stars again. you giggled and shook your head, liking how he got all shy.. “Yea..” he suddenly said, making you turn and widen your eyes, with your cheeks turning warm.

“I.. wanted to thank you for the party.. and I wanted to talk to you.. I wanted to take Polaroids too..” he suddenly let out, feeling a sudden rush of boldness hit him. maybe it was his birthday luck that he thought could help him?

but you were surprised.. and Polaroids? he hated whenever you took Polaroids of him. “.. you like those things, right?” jungwon whispered, looking up at you again. your eyes turned big again, gulping and nodding.. he wanted to do something you liked?

“Y-yeah.. I do..” you whispered back, gulping and looking down.

Jungwon felt his cheeks warming up.. but he felt a strange sense of pride and his ego rising in his chest.. you were the nervous one for once.

“By the way.. here’s your gift..” you added, grabbing the little gift box from behind you and handing it to him. He chuckled and hurriedly opened it.. a little friendship bracelet resting inside, blue and orange strings, with his initials and even a cat charm..

jungwon raised his eyebrows and took the bracelet immediately, breath shuddering a little. it was something so simple, so small.. he didn’t even like jewellery or things like that. but he couldn’t stop that fluttery feeling in his heart..

“Ta da~ see? I have one too!” You cooed, showing him your wrist, yours with pink and white strings and another kitty charm. he looked down at your wrist.. ‘JWS GIRL’ it read.. making him stumble a bit.. his girl? you had a bracelet.. calling you his girl?

You chuckled at the surprised reaction on his face. “It still is your birthday gift. I wanted it to be special for you!” jungwon smiled shakily and nodded, his eyes fluttering from his gift to your wrist, to back to your eyes.

“I.. I love it.. thanks y/n..” he stuttered, chuckling awkwardly as he put the bracelet on. you clapped playfully again and giggled. “Perfect! Wait here!” you exclaimed, standing up and leaving the balcony.

Jungwon’s eyes widened, as he looked back and leaned to the door to find you.. but you had run off already, bumping against a shelf on your way. Another laugh escaped his lips as he saw you stumble.. how endearing, he thought.

He wasn’t expecting you to come back with your Polaroid camera, grabbing his wrist close to yours to rest on your thigh, snapping the photo with your other hand. Jungwon gulped at the sudden proximity, but a little smile grew on his lips as he saw how excited you looked, flapping around the plastic photo eagerly and biting your lip.

“Look! ‘YJW’ and ‘JWs GIRL’!” you read out from the Polaroid that showed off your bracelets, before looking back up at him with a smirk, “We’re pretty cute together aren’t we~?” you cooed, knowing it’d make him turn red like a tomato again.

and turn red he did, as he chuckled nervously and bit his lip, nodding at your words while rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah.. we are..” he said softly again while you were admiring the cute photo.

“Here.. come here..” you hummed again, but you were the one that leaned closer to him, as you both stood up this time, your shoulder in front of his. Jungwon pursed his lips at the sudden contact again, but eventually put his arm over your shoulder and held you close against him, while you snapped another Polaroid.

“Damn.. we really do look good together!” You exclaimed excitedly at how good the photo turned out, making jungwon pull back with a little smile.. his eyes stuck on you.. “m-mhm..” he hummed absentmindedly..

Your eyes found his again, looking at him with sparkly eyes and a grin. “Happy 12th, birthday boy!” you exclaimed, suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping into his arms.

“Woah-” He stumbled back a bit, trying to catch his breath and his stance as he quickly wrapped his own arms around your back. a tiny giggle left his lips, voice muffled as his face was pressed against your thick sweater.

You bit your lip and pulled away, looking back up at him and smiling mischievously. “By the way.. I had another gift ready too..” you muttered softly, making his eyebrows raise as he chuckled and nodded. “You did? That’s generous..” he hummed.

with a nod, you suddenly pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Jungwon’s eyes turned wide for the hundredth time that night.. as he looked down at you.. he felt the world stop for a moment as you giggled up at him.

“Rest up if you won’t clean up!” You exclaimed, running off with a giggle suddenly. Jungwon was left speechless, his hand on his cheek as his fingers lightly touched the lip balm from your kiss mark..

This was definitely his favourite birthday..

2025 ━━━ THE 21ST BIRTHDAY

you bit your lip while trying to tie the balloon together again, panting in frustration from how heavily you breathed to blow it up earlier..

heeseung raised an eyebrow, but Sunoo was already used to your enthusiasm in birthdays, especially those of Jungwon’s. “Y/n? You ok? Your face is like.. blue.” hee asked in worry, coming behind you.

you inhaled deeply, after almost loosing your lung capacity in the span of five minutes. “Huh? Y-yeah-” you muttered, before the sound of the balloon flying away and the air splattering away hit your face, blowing away your hair.

“Goddamnit!” you exclaimed in frustration, running around to grab the balloon you accidentally let go of.. Sunoo rolled his eyes while decorating the rest of the living room. Heeseung gulped, looking at you in worry.

“Is she ok?” He asked the other. Sunoo shrugged and nodded. “I think so.. she’s always like this, just gets crazy over birthdays, especially Jungwon’s..”

“You know that polaroid jungwon keeps in the back of his phone? Of the two bracelets? those were from his 12th birthday, y/n gifted him friendship bracelets!” Sunoo exclaimed with a slight giggle, but looked back down with a soft sigh and shook his head.

“But that was before they became a couple.. they got together three years later and became the completely insufferable couple we know and love..” Sunoo added, making heeseung chuckle. “Hey.. jungwonie isn’t insufferable.” He argued back.

Sunoo rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Try dealing with 15-year-old jungwon yapping your ear off about his every date with y/n.. you’ll see just how insufferable he was..”

Heeseung pursed his lips, smirking slightly as he shook his head.

“Hey! Jungwon’s gonna be back in half an hour and the place is barely decorated! Get your hands on some ribbons and get this place in tip-top form!” You suddenly scolded, pointing at both heeseung and sunoo.

Sunoo rolled his eyes and sighed, but heeseung playfully saluted and nodded, cracking up as you left. “Yeah.. that girl has just never stopped being insufferable..”

“Surprise!” Everyone yelled as Jungwon opened the door, still clad in his leather jacket and all-black outfit. He gasped and chuckled at everything, some fancy champagne on the table, the golden 21 balloons on top of his couch, all of his friends.. and you.

He put his jacket on the coat rack, hugging you immediately with a giggle. “My god, honey.. this is so unexpected!” Jungwon cooed, holding you tight against his chest..

“Seriously? you really didn’t know~?” You chuckled in surprise, looking up at him as he pulled away and kept you under his arm. “No, I knew..” he muttered, still with a grin as he looked around at all of his friends and the decor.

Of course he knew, you had only been planning a surprise party at every birthday of his since he was 12.

“Ok enough with the sappy stuff, let’s get partying!” Jake wooed, his pink party glasses already on as he slung his arm over Jungwon’s shoulder, and slammed the champagne bottle into his chest. “Woo!” Jake exclaimed again, making jungwon chuckle and quickly grasp the alcohol.. he was 100% sure his friend had already started pregaming too hard..

Jungwon shook his head but popped open the bottle, starting his 21st celebration as you looked at your smiley boyfriend with adoration..

“Mm~ thank you for my party~” jungwon cooed, his arms wrapped around your waist as he embraced you from behind and walked you to the bedroom.

his voice was slightly murmured and slurred being against your cheek and jaw, pressing soft kisses to your skin.. he was also a bit tipsy, just a little~

a giggle escaped your lips, as you ruffled his blonde locks behind you. “Thank you for being born..” you cooed, turning back to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, slowly pressing your lips onto his in a deep, yet gentle kiss.

Jungwon giggled against your lip, tilting his head and leaning lower to reach your lips as he pushed back the door behind you, entering the comforting feeling of your bedroom.

He pulled away with a soft moan, giggling at how pretty you looked. jungwon stayed there for a moment, brushing your hair back as he looked down at you.. with such love in his eyes, but you could barely distinguish them from his originally sparkly eyes that seemed to have the stars in them.

“What, sweetie?” You whispered, wondering what was going on in his pretty mind, behind that cute grin. he chuckled cutely again and turned red slightly from how you caught his obvious staring. “N-nothing..” he shook his head, giggling softly.

“Nothing, baby..” he hummed again, pressing his nose against your cheek as he left another open-mouthed kiss to yours skin.

you giggled at his clinginess, not used to him being so bold. he eventually got all blushy again when he realised what he was doing, as he pulled back and covered his hand with his face with a lazy giggle..

“Mmh.. gosh..” he chuckled groggily. “I’m sorry..”

but his words just made your heart warm up even more. you held his hand again, dragging him to the balcony. “C’mere honey..” you whispered, as jungwon hummed in a raspy voice and followed you..

you pushed him slightly to the rails, taking out your Polaroid camera.. jungwon raised his eyebrows when he noticed what you were doing, another lovesick yet embarrassed grin on his face. “Baby, I’m drunk..” he groaned, rubbing his cheek softly.

“Just pose~” you said in a teasingly scolding tone, making him giggle again as he shook his head and closed his eyes. he puffed his cheeks and pouted his lips, taking one of his hands out of his pockets and making a heart pose against his cheek. “Aw! How cute!” you cooed, an overly dramatic tone to tease him.

Jungwon’s exaggerated cute pose faltered at your words, as he chuckled at how cruelly supportive you were. but you had already snapped a photo of him at peak-aegyo form.

you giggled and flapped around the photo excitedly, biting your lip and looking down at the picture eagerly. “Awh~ you’re so adorable!” You cooed, but jungwon rolled his eyes, keeping his hand in his pocket, while the other snatched the photo.

“This is for your eyes only, got that, princess?” He said in a stern voice, but his smile was too handsome and adorable for you to take seriously.. as your heart started racing even more. you nodded anyway and fought back a chuckle.

Jungwon suddenly took the camera too, pushing you back slightly against the railing. “Here.. let me take yours too~” he cooed, snapping a cute photo of yours as you giggled, but posed for the camera in a corny manner.

and either jungwon didn’t know how to work your old camera.. or he was too busy staring at the tiny screen.. as it took forever for him to snap a picture. and judging by his paused reaction, how his eyes turned a bit hazy and his giggles stopped.. you guessed it was the latter.

you pursed your lips, hiding your shy grin..

but you walked back up to him again, reviewing the flashy Polaroid. despite his drunk state, the photo came out beautiful! “Honey, it’s gorgeous!” you exclaimed, giggling in excitement. Jungwon nodded, a stupid little grin on his face as he looked down at you, stumbling a little.. a little whisper escaped his lips “yeah.. gorgeous..”

you didn’t notice his little distracted daze, but you looked up at him in excitement again. “Let’s take a selfie, hun!” you giggled, mini-clapping as you bit your lip. jungwon raised his eyebrows and chuckled at how cute you looked, as he patted your head and nodded.

“Alright, babe.. look up..” he whispered, a hand on your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him. he puffed his cheeks again and pouted his lips, as he kneeled down a little to reach your height. you put your hands on his shoulder and tip-toed slightly.

“1, 2..” he quietly said, and you let out a soft, hushed giggle as you turned to him and smiled.. before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek on 3, as the flash clicked through.

Jungwon’s eyes widened slightly, but a chuckle escaped his lips.. even at the simplest kisses, you still had him as shy as he was 9 years ago..

he blushed and rubbed his neck, as you snatched the picture and flapped the photo back and forth, grinning at the cute photo down. “Hey.. we look pretty cute together!” you hummed excitedly, raising your eyebrows as you showed him the photo.

Jungwon chuckled and nodded, closing his eyes in a way that said this girl.. “yes, baby..” he hummed, kissing your forehead softly. “we do look pretty cute together..” he said slowly as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head and looked down at the photo..

“Guess we have more Polaroids to add to the birthday collection~” you cooed, giggling softly, as Jungwon nodded and shrugged. “Guess we do..”

You could tell he was pretty tired from his vice and state, but you had one more thing to say..

you put your arms around his neck again, biting your lip and giggling as he pushed him back slightly from your tight hug. a much gentler, yet just as enthusiastic embrace than the one 9 years ago..

“Happy 21st, birthday boy!” You exclaimed, as jungwon stumbled back, holding you quickly against his chest with his one arm, the other still holding the camera.. “Woah..” he let out, chuckling at your eagerness.

“Mhm.. thank you, baby..” jungwon cooed, looking down at you and chuckling as he pressed another chaste kiss to your cheek. you giggled at his affection and leaned up slightly, rubbing your noses gently against each other.

“Mm.. You always know how to make my birthdays the best each year.. my girl~” he whispered with a soft giggle, recalling the bracelets you both still had on.. while rubbing his nose against yours as his eyes trailed down to your lips.

you giggled again and nodded, “and I’ll do it all the way to your 100th.. y j w~ ” you whispered back with a chuckle, leaning up and softly pressing your lips against his..

one thing’s for sure, he wanted to spend every birthday with you.. with his girl.

© weoris | tumblr.

❪ BUNNY TALK ❫ the day I come back is jungwon’s bday , xin x jw agenda is meant to be fr. hope you all enjoy !! >< who else loves hopelessly in love enha 🙋🏻‍♀️ and happy jungwon day 🐈💓

❪ PERM TAGLIST ❫ @w3bqrl @boowoowho @ahnneyong @kynrki @ixomiyu @yunki4evr @flwoie @bubblytaetae @ja4hyvn @dimplewonie @xiaoderrrr @trsrina @adajoemaya @stepout-09-15 zzegarki @ineedaherosavemeenow @lcv3lies @violetinferno @mijuuv @enhapocketz @hoonics @isoobie @dolldhn @jiaant11 @yeomha @mosssi @j-wyoung @artstaeh @spilled-coffee-cup @cowsmicwu @nishislcve @laylasbunbunny @greentulip @enhacolor @miumura @firstclassjaylee @wensurr @vmpivory OPEN

[animamii]

Part deux of Toji's Valentine's Surprise

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Your body locks up. Your breath stills. Toji—in the flesh—is standing in your living room, looking smug as hell, arms crossed over that broad chest like he knew he just rocked your entire world.

"You should see your face, princess," he chuckles, tilting his head. "Like you seen a ghost."

Your mind is racing. He’s supposed to be locked up. This is impossible. And yet—he’s here. Solid. Tangible. Real. Smirking at you like he didn’t just pull off the stunt of the century.

"You—" You inhale sharply, fists clenching at your sides. "How—" You don’t even finish the question before you smack his chest, hard enough to make your palm sting. He doesn’t even flinch, just grins like he enjoys the reaction.

"Miss me, baby?" His voice drops, smooth and teasing. Still the cocky bastard he's always been.

"Are you insane?" Your voice comes out breathless, uneven. "You’re supposed to be—"

Toji hums, unfazed. "Supposed to be what?" He steps closer, looming over you with that tantalizing smirk he always adorns. his presence thick and heavy—dangerous and intoxicating. "Locked up? Far away from my girl? Mmm, nah. That was never gonna last."

His girl. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip the way it does. Especially after all this time, but it does.

"You’re reckless," you breathe out, but your voice betrays you—too soft, too shaky. You forgot just how little he made you feel, like a little lamb standing in front of the big bad wolf.

"Yeah?" He reaches out, fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up. "And yet here I am, standing in front of you. Right where I belong." You swallow hard, heart hammering against your chest. His thumb traces your bottom lip, a touch so familiar, so effortlessly possessive, it makes your knees weak.

"Say it," he murmurs, eyes hooded. "Say you missed me."

You hate how easy it is for him to unravel you. How he knows you did. Toji leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "Or do I gotta remind you how bad you missed me?"

Your breath catches. You should shove him away. Should demand answers. Should do anything other than what you do next—fisting his shirt and yanking him down into a teeth clashing kiss.

Toji chuckles against your lips, the sound low and deep, like he expected this reaction all along. His hands—warm, calloused, and oh so familiar—find your waist, pulling you flush against him. It’s been too long, and your body betrays you, melting into his touch as if he never left.

"You’re crazy," you whisper, looking up at him with those wide eyes that he's always loved.

He grins, lips ghosting over your jaw before pressing a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

Your fingers tighten around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your fists. "It is," you hiss, but your body betrays you, tilting toward him when he moves. "You—Toji, you broke out—do you have any idea—"

"Shhh." He silences you with another kiss, deeper this time, his grip tightening around your waist. "We can talk later."

You should be more worried. Should push him away, demand answers, tell him this is reckless and insane. But the moment his hands slip lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, you’re wrapping yourself around him, letting him carry you to the bedroom like you knew this was how tonight would end. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Toji kicks the door shut behind him, smirking down at you as he lays you on the bed. His eyes—sharp, dark, hungry—roam over you like he’s memorizing every inch all over again.

"Missed you," he mutters, voice rough, as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing that silky dress higher.

You swallow, lips parted as you try to catch your breath. "You’re insane," you whisper again, but it comes out weaker this time, more breathless.

Toji smirks, dipping his head until his lips brush against yours again. "And yet," he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "you’re still here. Wrapped around me like you never want me to leave."

You shudder. "I hate you."

He laughs, a quiet, knowing sound, before pressing his lips to your throat. "Liar."

Your breath stutters when his lips drag down the column of your throat, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. Like he knows he has all the time in the world. His grip tightens on your thighs, his body pressed between them, and it’s infuriating—the way he’s taking his time, the way he’s acting like he never left. Like he never spent months locked up, sending you teasing, filthy little letters to remind you he still owned you.

"Toji—"

"Shhh, baby," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with amusement. "S’been too long. Lemme take my time with you."

He’s impossible. Infuriating. But your body betrays you, arching into his touch, fingers threading through his dark hair as he kisses his way lower. You hate how much you missed him—hate how, despite every part of you screaming that this is reckless, stupid, you can’t bring yourself to stop him.

"You’re a wanted man," you remind him breathlessly, grasping onto some semblance of control, but Toji just grins, his teeth grazing over your collarbone before he presses a kiss there.

"Yeah? And?" His fingers hook under the hem of your dress, sliding it higher. "That stop you from wanting me?"

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when he tugs the fabric over your hips, leaving you bare beneath him. Your pulse pounds, heat rushing to your cheeks, and Toji just chuckles, gaze darkening as he drinks you in.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, running his hands up your thighs, rough fingers making you shiver. "Been waitin’ for this. Dreamin’ about this."

You should push him away. Should demand answers. But instead, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down until his mouth crashes against yours. All that could wait for later, right?

Toji groans into your mouth when you pull him down, all teasing amusement vanishing as his body presses flush against yours. His hands are rough, calloused from years of fights and cold aridness of prison, but they touch you with a hunger and gentle warmth that makes your breath hitch. His knee slots between your legs, pressing just enough to make you whimper, and he smirks against your lips.

"Missed me that bad, huh?" His voice is thick with pride, like he knows what he’s doing to you. Like he couldn't wait to make you melt like this.

You glare at him, chest heaving and lips glossy with swapped saliva. "Shut up, Toji."

He chuckles, low and dark, before flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement. A startled gasp escapes you as he presses his weight against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"That any way to talk to the man who just risked everything to see you?" His voice is silk and gravel, smooth yet dangerous, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

You swallow hard, pressing your palms against the sheets, heart hammering. "You’re insane."

"Yeah?" His hands slide down your sides, slow, possessive. "And yet here you are, lettin’ an insane man touch you like this."

You open your mouth to snap at him, but then he bites down on your shoulder, just enough to make your breath stutter. You feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way his grip tightens like he’s testing you, waiting for you to fight him, to push him away. But you don’t. Instead, you press back against him, feeling the way his body stiffens for a brief second before a deep, pleased growl rumbles in his chest.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice raspier now. "That’s my girl."

Your stomach flips. Your fingers curl into the sheets.

"Toji—"

His hand slides under your chin, tilting your head just enough for his lips to brush against yours. "Say it." His voice is low, insistent. "Say you missed me."

Your throat tightens. You hate how easy it is for him to pull the truth from you.

"I—" Your voice shakes, but the words tumble out anyway. "I missed you, okay?"

Toji groans like he felt those words, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear. "Yeah?" His breath is hot against your ear. "Show me, baby."

And then his hands are everywhere, his mouth pressing desperate, feverish kisses along your spine, and you let yourself get lost in the way he devours you like a man starved. Like he’s spent every second of his time locked up thinking about this. About you.

Toji moves like he owns you—like he never left, like he never spent months locked away with nothing but memories and filthy daydreams of you to keep him sane. His hands are rough, greedy, sliding over your skin like he’s trying to make up for lost time. And maybe he is. Maybe that’s why his mouth trails fire along your spine, why his grip tightens every time you sigh his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he flips you onto your back again. He looms over you, eyes dark, wild, hungry. "Look at you. Been dyin’ to have you under me again." His dark blue eyes scan over every inch of you, burning it into his memory. The way the silk clings to every curve, the lacy trim that is snug against your breasts, the way one straps slides off your shoulder.

Your breath is uneven, chest rising and falling as he takes his time devouring you with his gaze. He licks his lips, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, and the sight alone makes your stomach tighten. It's as if he spent all his time in prison getting even more sexier.

"Toji," you whisper, fingers ghosting over his jaw, the scar on his lip. He catches your wrist before you can pull away, pressing a kiss to your palm, slow and lingering. Like he needs to feel the warmth and softness of your skin, of your touch.

"Say it again," he rasps. It's music to his ears, hearing it in person rather than through a grainy prison call. Seeing it, the way your pretty lips move as every syllable spills out.

Your throat tightens. "Toji."

He groans, like he felt that in his chest, before surging down to capture your lips again. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a demand, a promise. He presses himself against you, and it’s impossible to ignore how much he wants you, how much he missed you too.

"Missed you, baby," he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding under the silky slip dress he sent you, pushing it up, baring more of you to him. "Thought about you every fuckin’ night. Couldn’t even sleep without—"

He cuts himself off with a curse, shaking his head like he’s annoyed at himself for admitting it. But the way his grip tightens on you, the way his lips move over your skin, says everything he won’t.

You bite your lip, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses a path down your stomach. "Then why’d you leave me?"

Toji stills. His breath hitches against your skin, just for a second. Then he exhales, slow and controlled, before pressing one last kiss to your hip.

"Didn’t wanna drag you into my shit," he finally mutters, voice rougher now. He lifts his head, meets your gaze. "But guess that was pointless, huh?"

You swallow hard. "Yeah," you whisper, tugging him back up, pressing your forehead against his. "It was."

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a grimace, like he knew this was coming but hoped you wouldn’t say it. He sighs, cupping your face, thumb stroking along your cheek.

"You mad at me, baby?"

You exhale, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Ask me later."

Toji chuckles, low and dark. "Yeah?" He tilts your chin up, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. "Guess I’ll have to make it up to you first."

And he does.

Over and over again.

Happy Valentine's Day.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡

Part twoooo!! I love this sm idk I luv itttt. Requested by the lovely @cheolliehugs

tags ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy @yourname-exee @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @universallydepressed13

ꨄ︎ comment to be added to tag list for the lockedup!toji series ꨄ︎

[callmeizukunotdeku]

In his time with the League, Damian learned to live with a lot but love very little.

He was surrounded by opulence--that was a power play, a demonstration, more than anything. It was Ra's' way of showing that he had power.

The problem, of course, was how easily power can breed envy and just how much can be taken away by someone with nothing to lose.

From a very young age, his mother taught him to think--to look inside and establish what he cared for--what he would fight for and what he was willing to give up.

Growing up in the League meant that he could love very little and know it was all safe. In case of emergency, whether that be a coup, assassination attempt, what have you, he could take very little with him.

Growing up, Damian loved his mother, her stories, and his sketchbook.

He never strayed too far from either so that, should worst come to worst, he wouldn't have to leave either behind.

Richard had done all he could to unteach that lesson along with many others he learned with the League.

That, of course, had made it all that much harder to leave.

He had to close himself off, teach himself, again, to think--what did he really care about?

What was he willing to leave behind?

He got distracted with thoughts of when did Richard become someone I could leave? and ended up leaving with less than he should have.

The first few days at Tim's were spent in space. Tim didn't neglect him--the two of them ate together, lived together, but Tim still had his classes and Damian's admission to a local school hadn't gone through yet, so, while he spent nights patrolling with Tim, he spent his days alone.

Either he slept or he drew. Sleep, though the easier option to chose, did not come as easy as it used to. Drawing was an outlet to him, a way to filter his emotions into something tangible--prove to himself that they were real--but he didn't want to see the emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or hide from them, but his thoughts were not welcome guests in his head, which, of course, made sleeping all the more difficult.

He'd close his eyes, take a deep breath, and drift.

He'd drift and he'd think about how, in moving in with Tim, he learned the difference between living near someone and living with someone.

He learned the difference between patrolling next to someone and patrolling with someone.

It helped him see himself more clearly, but it also helped him see Tim.

He'd always known Tim was a unique fighter. When they were still enemies, it was his unpredictability that made him hard to defeat. Damian could see, now, how that unpredictability was the result of estrangement. Tim was not close enough to Bruce to be trained by him.

He had patrolled once, against orders, and then been sent to be trained by a foreign hand.

Damian could see a part of himself in the way Tim fought. Their styles were dissimilar, but muscle memory was hard to unlearn and it was clear to any educated watcher that the two of them did not fight like Bats.

Still, as Damian patrolled more and more with Tim, they learned to fight together. They did not use the same styles, but then, having different styles meant that they had different strengths and weaknesses, all the better for covering each other's blind spots.

Damian grew to understand Tim in a way he hadn't fully let himself before. As he understood, he began to relax--let himself expand into his room, finish unpacking.

Now, Richard and Tim both had different rules, but one thing the two of them agreed upon was that no one was to enter Damian's room without his permission.

It seemed silly to him--the idea that the space he took up was his even when he had no formal claim to it. What was more, however, was the fact that, once he had finished decorating, he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride.

He wanted Tim to see his new room--truly, he did--and if Tim entered and exited when he pleased, he could just...come in and Damian could mention that the room was fully decorated and see how Tim reacted.

Instead, he had to invite Tim--invite his judgment. It left him more vulnerable than he would have preferred, but he trusted Tim, so, before patrol, one night, he asked, "Timothy? Can I show you something?"

"Of course, Dami. What is it?"

"My room. I finished decorating."

Tim smiled, "Lead the way."

He did, showing Tim the little things he'd added to make his room his--a declaration of his intent to stay, as much for Tim as it was for himself.

Tim followed Damian around the room, adding small complements here and there before stopping. "You kept this?"

He was holding the photo.

"Of course," Damian said, "It was a good day."

Tim smiled at the photo before putting it down.

Damian furrowed his brow, "I...forget--why weren't you in the photograph?"

Tim gave him a curious look, "Because I was the one taking the photo."

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[ablobwhowrites]

I really love your New home sweet home au and I really want to see the toys taking care of Y/N since he’s has a fever :

Like one day, Y/N comes back from work and sees the toys in the living room and then he says something and passes out due to the fever. And the toys taking care of him since he saved them.

Everyone thinks y/n just died. Until dog day just found out they just have a fever. All it was is a cold and basically the only ones who kinda know how to help with a cold is the smiling critters and miss delight. They basically try and take care of y/n because they kinda know what their doing as miss delight knows how colds work as she's a teacher and knows basics of human anatomy and a lot of other stuff because well she was made to be a teacher back in playcare so that's what she had kept in here memory.

Yarnaby isn't allowed to be in the room with y/n because the moment he is, he's hopping onto the bed and laying down with y/n and may even get yarnaby sick. So yarnaby kinda sits at the door of y/n's room, doey every 5 minutes goes up to check on y/n as luckily he can stretch his neck and arms to get to y/n. Because once he went to the second floor and ended up nearly breaking through it but luckily didn't. He's like 900 pounds of dough so that pretty heavy but he can go upstairs for a little bit but not for long. But he tries and always checks up on y/n and poor dude is worried cause so many toys in the safe haven got sick sometimes and Doey was so worried for them the whole time.

Mommy long legs basically looking through cook books and cook books for something that y/n could eat without having to throw up or just having something easy for the stomach. The doctor, he thinks this worrying is just idiotic as he knows y/n will get better but still, Harley does make sure y/n is living and breathing. And the bunzo comes up into y/n's room to kinda talk about random things to keep y/n entertained and not bored but bunzo ended up talking about a random green spring he found and the newest episode of a show. Boogie bot is kinda the only one who kinda takes y/n's temperature, gives medicine and other stuff and all because it's hard to get a robot sick plus dog day and Doey are genuinely tweaking because they are in the safe haven mind set thinking that there is no medicine and stuff like that.

But after y/n feels healthy again. The toys are relieved and Harley is relieved as well because he wants to keep his room and bro is not willing to give up this nice ass house life. Also yarnaby goes back to sleeping in y/n's room again after y/n gets better. As soon is catnap in his smaller form as it helps him keep a eye on y/n and also to sleep more peacefully than hearing KickinChicken snore for the whole night.

(thats it for my yap session, hopefully my writing is getting slightly better but If you like that please don't feel shy and request any ideas for stories or anything. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[zarla-s]

i need to know more about your feelings of tf2 comic 7 because youre the heavymedic expert

I liked it! Satisfying happy conclusion for (almost) everyone, especially since I was a little worried they were going to kill everyone off, haha. Not a lot of Heavymedic stuff in there but I wasn't expecting much, and really it was about the Administrator and her story, so it makes sense the mercs wouldn't really take top billing for it.

There were a few cute things though! I know "standing next to each other" is like the most graspingest of straws but you know what, it made me smile each time so I don't care.

The big thing of course being Heavy grabbing his boob, which to me reads like him stopping Medic from trying to help the Admin, which I think is sweet in his own way. Medic has his healing instincts!

Medic also puts his hand on his back as they walk away, which I also think is sweet. It looks like he's comforting him.

I really loved the ending sequence where everyone gets together for that dinner party. It's just such a great bookend to how the comics started - initially when their team disbanded, everyone split off and did their own thing. Some of them didn't even keep track of where the others were! A few kept in contact, but mostly all of them just left the others and they didn't seem particularly concerned or interested in each other.

Compare that to them at the end of the comic! Seven years after everything that happened, they're all meeting up together for dinner! Voluntarily! They're introducing their families to each other! They don't have any contracts or jobs forcing them to spend time together. They WANT to have dinner together. SPY TAKES OFF HIS MASK AND IS FINE WITH IT! I just love that so much. They care about and trust each other after everything that's happened, all the years that have gone by. Team as family was CANON AFTER ALL

I think this whole sequence also sheds a nice light on Medic! Medic's been perceived as probably the most uncaring of the group, given that he did sign up with another team for the money and said he wouldn't mind fighting them again (although not too soon after that he ended up saving all their lives against direct orders). A lot of people interpreted that as him not really caring about the others or anything at all, but that's not the case!

Medic kept and raised his baboon baby! He didn't abandon it or use it for parts or anything, he kept and raised it for seven years! Responsibility!

Not only that, Medic hasn't abandoned his friends, signed up with a new team, forgotten them or tossed them aside. He's with them at the dinner! He comes with his baboon baby! He wants to be with them too! He cares about them, genuinely. And of course, the final shot is with him by Heavy's side, both of them just so happy to be there with everyone else.

Love that Medic's smile still looks unhinged too lol. Would I have loved Heavy holding onto Medic's waist? The two of them wearing matching rings? Of course! But them so close to each other and an obvious irrefutable confirmation that Medic loves and cares about his team and wants to be with them is really lovely. Makes me feel fuzzy, haha.

There's speculation too that Medic came with Heavy's family as that person in the back there but who can say for sure. |D

[flwrkid14]

The Reincarnation of Romance

Tim doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in statistics, in probabilities, in cold, hard logic. He believes in data points and patterns and cause and effect.

Danny doesn’t believe in fate either. He believes in choices, in carving your own path, in standing at the precipice of the unknown and stepping forward anyway.

And yet—

There is something undeniably fated about them.

Something in the way Tim’s fingers trail along Danny’s wrist like he’s tracing the life thread of his own existence. Something in the way Danny says Tim’s name like a whispered prayer, like the world could crumble around them and it wouldn’t matter as long as they were together.

Something ancient, something timeless.

Tim doesn’t believe in past lives. And yet, when he looks at Danny, there is a familiarity that stretches beyond reason, beyond explanation. It’s in the way Danny leans into his touch like he’s done it a thousand times before. It’s in the way Tim worships him so openly, so effortlessly, without hesitation.

Like instinct. Like inevitability.

The family doesn’t know what to do with them.

Tim, whose love is all-consuming, who would burn the world to the ground if it ever so much as thought of harming Danny. Danny, who welcomes Tim’s obsession with the amused indulgence of a man who was clearly adored in another lifetime and carries the memory of it in his bones.

Danny sweeps Tim into his arms at a moment’s notice, presses kisses against his wrist with breathless adoration, waxes poetic about Tim’s brilliance, his beauty, his mind.

Tim, for his part, is indulgent. Amused. He watches Danny with dark, knowing eyes, lips quirked in a smile that betrays nothing but quiet satisfaction. He tilts his chin up just slightly when Danny kisses his hand, his wrist, the inside of his palm. A queen granting favor.

They move through the world as though they exist on some other plane, where every touch is sacred and every look is a vow.

They are impossible to be around.

“Mon amour,” Danny gasps the moment Tim steps into the room, eyes alight with an adoration that borders on worship. He strides forward, hands already reaching for Tim’s waist, his arms, anything he can hold.

Tim hums, tilting his head as Danny presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Darling,” he murmurs, amusement dancing at the edges of his voice.

Jason groans. Steph makes a gagging noise.

“You were apart for five minutes,” Duke says flatly.

“Five minutes too long,” Danny insists, pressing his forehead dramatically against Tim’s shoulder. “The sun is cold without you, my love.”

Tim lifts a delicate brow, but his fingers still come up to tangle in Danny’s hair, slow and methodical. A caress disguised as nothing at all. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

A smile, small and sharp, curls at the edges of Tim’s lips. “A tragic truth.”

Cass watches them with knowing and amused eyes. Duke mutters something about how it’s “so much worse in person.” Damian looks between them with deep suspicion but diligently sketches the scene anyway.

And Bruce? Bruce has seen a lot of things in his life. He’s fought gods, stood against the impossible, watched the world bend and break and come back together again.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the reincarnation of Odysseus and Penelope manifesting in his own home.

Tim and Danny don’t care.

Tim is obsessed. Tim is devoted. Tim is utterly, ridiculously in love, and he makes sure Danny knows it every waking moment of his existence.

Danny basks in it.

They have done this before, in another life, in another time, and they will do it again in the next.

Because, for Tim and Danny, love is eternal.

[biteyoubiteme]

rosé

yeonjun x fem!reader warnings:🔞!!! tw:stepcest, don't like don't read!, vibrator use, no penetration, mentions of biting/teeth used, panty-fucking, prob forgot some sorry wc: 2.2k an: uuummm so look away I guess I still wont take requests for this kind fic and im not tagging my usual taglist so :p pls don't read if you don't like it

“You have to be joking,” your hand is still caught on the doorknob, frozen in place as you take in the sight of your childhood bedroom. Half the space was covered in boxes, labeled in the sideways handwriting of your step-mother. But everything else was frozen in time as the day you had left for college, frozen as the last holiday you had been back, ugly Christmas sweater thrown at the edge of your bed. Even the lone mattress on the ground from where a cousin had spent the weekend was waiting to be slept in. 

And that is where Yeonjun stood, his chuckle caught between shock and humor. He was holding a half-drunk bottle of rosé, the cap still screwed on the cheap glass. “You're not very good at hiding things,” he shakes the liquid enough to draw your eyes to it. 

“Going through people's things is childish,” you mutter, tossing your bag next to the bed, “shouldn't you be in your own room?” 

It wasn't new to see him around the times that you visited, he lived only a town over, closer than you had stayed when the two of you had dispersed from home. He wanted to stay close to his mom, loved to rub it in your face when you came back that he was the better child. Your parents hadn't gotten married until the last year of high school, too soon for you to really find a connection with your new step-mom in a way that yeonjun had found with your dad. 

“They turned my room into a gym,” he kicked at the boxes littering the space, “they haven't gotten around to clearing out yours but it's going to be the guest room from now on,” 

“No-” you groaned, falling back on your bed, “I don't want a roommate for the weekend, I wanted relaxation,” it's not that you care they are changing things around but it was less appealing to have to know every time you came home you would have to spend it in the same room as any cousin, family member, or, like now, stepbrother.  Some selfish part of you hadn't liked how changed everything had become since the added members in the house had become permanent, your room had stayed yours, and if you had anything left of before it was this. 

“You don't want me around? I'm good company,” you can hear the dip in his voice, the low murmur of it making you shiver. You sit up on your elbows, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Don't take that tone with me,” but it's weak, the both of you know it, testing the line drawn in the sand every time you two had the opportunity. Spending time in such close quarters didn’t help it in the slightest. The two of you had agreed, or you had told him, that you wouldn't push it further than the teasing, and yet… 

Yeonjun’s lip lifts in a smirk, just high enough to show his teeth, calling your bluff. You remember that hazy period in time when the two of you didn't have to keep apart, fumbling kisses shared at a party, hands finding places neither of you wanted to pull away from. It was only a few weeks later when you were told about the engagement, the shock was a bucket of ice water thrown over the two of you. Suddenly flirty glances in class turned to frozen glares and when you moved in that last year together it had felt suffocating. It had been a mix of teenage annoyance and rebellion to avoid him, and you did in the short few months you spent in his company. 

Then you had both gone to college, two separate universities on opposite sides of the city. It had been easy to ignore him but easier still to find it in you to heal the indifference into tolerance. But then you found yourself at a party, the lights low and his smile just like this one now. You couldn't blame drinking, couldn't blame anything except the fact that you wanted to kiss him again, needed to devour him in the way that he had consumed your mind anytime you thought of him. 

You had been the one to stop it before it had gone too far, in the backseat of his car, grinding on him, still chasing his lips even as you said ‘We have to stop’ his soft reply of, ‘We should’ without either of you pulling away. It had been on your mind every time you saw him again, especially now. 

“Fine, but I want a thank you, I found all your contraband that you wouldn't want them to find when cleaning your room out,” he lifted the bottle again, “how long did you have this stashed in the back of your closet?” 

You had forgotten all about the bottle, less so about most things sitting in your closet, drawers, or under the bed. You had moved out your important things, anything left was by mistake or unimportant. “Who cares we are adults, a little rosé is nothing to worry over them finding,” 

“And this?” you didn't know what to expect when he lifted his hand, another lone bottle of some other drink you forgot about was nothing to worry about and yet it wasn't that. There in his hand was a slim vibrator, pink and a foreign sight in his grasp. 

“Yeonjun-” you whisper shouted, the two of you were alone in the house, the bedroom all the way up in the attic space. But it felt like you couldn't scold him loudly, your face flushing, heat spreading all over you. And he chuckled, shoulder shaking as he flicked his finger over the button to turn it on, the soft buzz making you clench your thighs. “Put it away,” 

“Should I? I charged it and it would be a shame not to use it, if even a little bit,” he stalked closer, slow like a prowl, already having his sights set on eating you alive. “And you already look like you want it on you,” you watched the way his eyes flickered down to your thighs, rubbing together as you tried to deny that they were doing so. 

“We said we wouldn't,” you whisper, hands twisting in the sheets as he leans down nose so close to bumping yours, breathing in the same air. 

“We said we shouldn't, that never stopped us before,” the last syllable is pressed right to your upper lip, the ghosting of his mouth like sweet temptation against yours, “and all I could think about since the last time was that we shouldn't have stopped, because now you're all that's ever on my mind and you're never even around to rectify that,” he leans in closer, on hand bracing beside you on the bed while you try to keep even a hairs distance from falling into his trap because once you slipped up and found yourself caught you knew you wouldn't even try to escape. “Just one kiss, please,” 

“Just one-” You couldn't even get the words out before he was on you, pressing his mouth to yours, seeking to consume you. Your hands shot out, pulling on his shirt locking him in place as he fell on top of you hardly even trying to keep his distance but you wouldn't even give him that once his lips were on yours. The two of you worked so well together, every little touch was sending sparks up and down your body. You opened your legs instinctively for him, wanted him to fit against you, slot himself in your personal space even if it was only for the length of one kiss. But that wasn't what it was, this wasn't the simple peck but a feast of pent-up want and need reduced to a single moment as if you hadn't indulged before. 

He was hot and hard, grinding against you until you were gasping into his mouth, sloppy kisses now working down your throat as he nipped at your skin, teeth looking to find every sensitive spot you had. He wanted to devour you even if he shouldn't, and you were no better. It didn't matter if you said just one kiss, the two of you knew what it meant, you had said it before and you had him on the verge of finishing untouched in his jeans but he would finish this time, he wanted to reach that spot with you. 

And you wanted it too, not caring about your previous intentions as soon as he was pressed so close to you. He reached his hand down between you two, vibrator on as he pressed it right against your clothed clit, the vibration muffled with all the fabric and yet you gasped, hips bucking up to meet the sensation. “Oh,” his open-mouthed kisses warm against the skin on your throat, your hands sliding up to his hair, twisting your fingers in the strands. He pulls away for only a second, hands falling to the waistband of your pants, needing to get them off of you. “We can't-” 

“Please- I just wanna see how wet you are for me,” he begs, forehead pressed to yours feeling your nod more than seeing it. He pulls your pants clean off, leaving you in the nearly transparent white panties you have on. Yeonjun groans at the outline of you clear as day as the fabric clings to you. He doesn't hesitate to press the vibrator right back over your clit. You try to snap your thighs closed, the one less layer making it so much harder to not react. 

His free hand comes out to trace over your cunt, fingers circling up and down as you throw your head back, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Now look at that,” he runs one finger between the fabric of your panties and your aching center, the digit coming away slick as he lifts it to his mouth to taste, your brows scrunching together as you try to hold back your whine. It's a drawn-out moan that comes from him, “You taste as good as you look,” he presses the vibrator harder on your clit, “let me fuck you- please-” 

“We shouldn't-” you try but it's caught in your throat when he clicks up the vibration, free hand back to running up and down the outside of your panties. 

“Please,” he whispers like it's ripping him apart, not being able to sink into you when you look this good. He presses his pelvis closer to you, his bulge perfect for your grinding hips to try and find a steady pace on. “Please,” he lets his hips drag along with the word, your lip caught between your teeth as you try not to cry out but it's impossible to deny him, especially when he's promising to not put it in, and you know if you say no he will stop and if you say yes you wouldn't stop him even if he did try to do more. And all you wanted was more. 

You nod, needing more of him, needing to feel something more if anything at all. He pushes his hand into his pants, tugging out his cock, veiny and slick with bubbling precum, wrist working to give it a few loose drags. You're whimpering at the sight, wishing to say to hell with not having him just fuck you into the mattress. And you almost do say ‘fuck it’ the second he presses his tip right to your covered entrance, the slick of your panties only causing him to slip, the length of him rubbing over you. 

“I won't- I won't,” he's screwing his eyes closed, shaking his head as he convinces himself more than he's telling you. Just brushing against you, feeling the vibration hitting right under his tip as he grinds down on you makes it so much worse. Every sound he's making is desperate and whiny, echoing in the room as he presses his free hand into the mattress, keeping you pressed down and in the circle of his arm. He can't control the way his hips move, just chasing the high of wanting to be in you and the feel of you so close and yet so far. 

He tries to press his tip back in, properly fucking into your panties even if there is little give before he's back to slipping and grinding back down on your cunt, clicking up the vibrator until you can feel it sending sparks all over your body, the ache in your belly turning into a blinding light before you tremble, tugging him closer to you as much as you can get. “I'm- I'm cu-” It's only a moment before your orgasm crashes into you, your body trying to pull away from the vibration and yet being stuck in place with the weight of Yeonjun over you.

And he doesn't stop or pull away, whimpering as he jerks, cock twitching right before he's spilling ropes of white all over your stomach, t-shirt a mess of it. It's not until he pulls away the vibrator, clicking it off, that he's stopped the slow dribble of cum from shooting out. 

Both of you are breathing hard, Yeonjun's face now pressing into your neck to try and hide, hips still moving, languid as he softens. “Never again,” you try to say, but both of you know the truth, especially when you're running your fingers through the hair at his sweaty temple. 

“Of course, never again,” he mutters but he's leaning right back in to kiss you. 

taglist for those who asked lol @beomiracles @beombunni and im tagging the wonderful @thetxtdevil bc she is the one who came up with this idea and gifted it to me ily mae thank you so bad-

[missdynamighttt]

can you pretty please write something based on the song Would You Fall in Love With Me Again from Epic? I was thinking like, barbarian bakugo but he went to war or somethin’ and finally gets home to his wife?

the village gates loomed in the distance, barely visible through the morning mist. the scent of rain and blood clung to the air, but for the first time in years, katsuki bakugo paid it no mind. his fingers twitched at his side, the leather of his armor worn from war. his sword, heavy as the burdens he carried, hung loosely at his hip.

he had returned. but would she still want him?

his steps slowed as he neared the familiar path leading to their home. it was still there—unchanged, untouched as if time had waited for him. the wooden beams, the carved symbols of protection along the frame, the worn stone path leading to the door. a home he had built with his own hands.

a home he feared he no longer belonged in.

the door creaked open before he could knock.

“katsuki?”

there she stood. his wife. his love. the woman he had fought for across a thousand battlefields.

you.

you looked just as he had remembered and yet… not. there was something in your eyes, something weary, something knowing.

"is it really you?" your voice trembled, your hands gripping the doorframe as if to steady yourself. "or am i dreaming again?"

his throat went dry. he wanted to say something—anything—but all he could do was stare.

he had imagined this moment a hundred times, had whispered your name into the cold night air of distant lands, had prayed to gods he no longer believed in just to see you again.

but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the right to reach for you.

"you look... different," you whispered. "your eyes… they look tired."

his lip curled, not in anger, but in some bitter, broken thing that resembled a smile. "that ain't the only thing that's different."

you took a step closer, hesitant, searching. your gaze trailed the hollows of his cheeks, the sharpness of his jaw. your fingers twitched as if aching to touch him, but you held back. 

a sharp breath left him. he knew what you saw. he wasn't the man you had once known. he was something else now. something ruined.

"i'm not the man you fell in love with," he admitted, voice rough like gravel. "not the man you married."

you flinched, but you didn’t look away.

"i'm not your husband anymore," he continued, his voice quiet, pained. "my love... would you fall in love with me again, if you knew all i've done?"

your breath hitched. "what... have you done?"

katsuki shut his eyes. when he opened them, they were dark with memories he wished he could forget.

"left blood on every fuckin' battlefield," he sighed. "traded soldiers like weapons. hurt more lives than i can count." his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. "but every goddamn thing i did… was to come back to you."

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "so tell me. would you still love me?"

your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. you studied him again, truly seeing him, the man he was now—the weight he carried, the sins etched into his skin.

then you turned, walking deeper into their home. katsuki's chest ached as you disappeared from view. maybe this was it. maybe you couldn’t—

"could you do me a favor?" your voice drifted from within.

"what is it, my love?" his brow furrowed as he followed, stepping inside for the first time in years. the air smelled of you. of home. 

you were quiet for a long time, the wind whispering between you. then, at last, you stepped forward, eyes steady. 

you turned your gaze to the large wedding bed in their home, carved from the sturdy olive tree that had stood as a silent witness to your love since the beginning.

“that bed,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “could you lift it? carry it far away from here?”

his blood ran cold.

“how could you say that?” his voice cracked, the anger, the exhaustion, the heartbreak all colliding into one. “i built that bed with my own fuckin' hands. carved it from the tree where we first met. the only way to move it is to—”

his breath caught. he looked at you, realization striking him like lightning. his chest ached. his arms, worn from war, longed for your warmth.

“…you knew."

you stepped closer, cradling his face in your hands. his hands came, gripping your waist as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

a small, trembling smile touched your lips. "only my husband would know that. so i guess that makes you... him."

his knees nearly buckled. he surged forward, hands cupping your face, his forehead pressing against yours.

tears slipped down your cheeks, but you smiled, truly smiled, as your hands finally touched him—fingers ghosting over scars and bruises and the remnants of war.

"i will fall in love with you over and over again, katsuki," you whispered. "i don't care how, where, or when. no matter how long it's been. you are mine.”

he crushed you to him, burying his face into your hair, his body shaking. katsuki swallowed hard, his vision blurring. “i told you… i’m not the same.”

"you're always my husband, katsuki," you murmured. "i've been waiting for you. i would have waited forever."

katsuki's arms tightened around you, grounding himself in your warmth, your love, your unwavering belief in him.

"you don't have to anymore," he whispered. "i'm home." 

katsuki held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go. the weight of years, of battles, of bloodshed, all crumbled beneath the warmth of your touch.

you swallowed hard. “how long has it been?”

katsuki exhaled, his forehead resting against yours. his voice was barely above a whisper.

“twenty years.”

a breath hitched in your throat. twenty years. twenty years of waiting, of uncertainty, of praying that the man you loved would return to you. “god, katsuki…”

“i thought i’d never make it back to you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “i thought—” he stopped himself, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours. “i don’t deserve this.”

"don’t say that," tears spilled down your cheeks as you cupped his face, your fingers trembling. “i love you.”

his breath shuddered. he had been through war. he had seen death, had taken lives, and had lived in the darkness for what felt like an eternity. and yet, nothing had ever struck him down the way those three words did.

a harsh, broken laugh escaped him, and he pressed his lips against your forehead.

“i love you more. always have. always will.”

you sobbed, burying yourself in his chest as he held you tighter, his body shaking from exhaustion, from relief, from love.

and for the first time in years, katsuki bakugo finally let himself fall. back into the home he had fought so hard to return to. back into you, his wife.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Omg, I read and reread your fitness influencer x chubby cooking influencer like five or six times already! Would you consider writing more parts to it, please?

Omg i would love to, lemme cook for a sec sksksk

CW: chubby fem cooking influencer reader x fitness influencer fave, fluff, smut, mentions of internet trolls being mean, not proofread i am sorry sksksk

So, chubby cooking influencer reader and fitness influencer

A match made in heaven tbh sksksk

But it's very normal at first! Like i said in my original post, reader and fitness influencer (i.e. your fave) just start the relationship with simple conversation

Your likes, dislikes, hobbies, interests, you chat about it all on social media!

His instagram has a lot of tagged photos of your recipes that he tries, as well as photos of him at the gym

His youtube is mostly vlogs of his days as an influencer and workouts and all that

He's always very good about tagging you, even if he just mentions your channel in passing, he's tagging you in the description AND comments

And you always thank him in his dms for tagging you

He starts expecting it now, seeing your notification and it brightens his day

He plays it cool tho, always thanking you in return and asking how your day is going

Which of course leads to conversations about other things (what did you do today, what did you eat, what are you up to)

He likes you, he really likes you

But he tries to be suave, just being nice at first, but he's always thinking of you tbh

At the gym, at home, when he's eating, in the shower, in bed 😏

He ends up jerking off to you quite a bit, though he won't admit it, he's too shy for that sksksk

He does ask about the general area you live in and gets excited when he finds out how close you are

Takes a lot of guts but he ends up asking you on a date, offering to pay for a nice meal and a movie if you want

Does a fist bump and jump when you accept sksksk

He dresses nice for your date, opting to wear dress pants and a tight button up shirt to show off his muscles

BUT YOU?? OMG YOU LOOK SO CUTE

You've got on a yellow sundress with flowers and white heels and a sun hat and he is just UGH so obsessed with you

Date goes well. He's happy to see you eating freely and without a care about how he may think, plus you get dessert and you lick cream off your lips and he has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom and calm himself down bc he got a boner 😔

Before the date ends, he asks you if you two can do this again, and you turn bashful

"You really want to hang out with me again??" you ask with big doe eyes

"Of course I do. I wanna date you, Y/N. And fuck you the way you deserve"

....is what he wishes he said sksksk

But instead he just nods, screaming inside bc you are honestly just so precious

You go on a second date, and a third, and a fourth and a fifth and honestly he is getting a little frustrated bc you have not even tried to hold his hand yet

He tried making the first move, but you're always just out of reach, just a little too far away from him to do anything

He agonizes over it a little bit, asking his gym bros what he should do

"Maybe she's just not into you dude"

"Just grab her and kiss her dude"

"I don't know man, i like men, not women"

They're no help tbh sksksk

He just decides to ask you on your next date and figure out why you won't initiate things with him

When he asks you, your eyes go wide and he thinks that if you could blush, your whole body would turn red

"What?! This whole time we've been going on dates?! I thought you just liked food as much as me and wanted to share it!"

He feels like he's gonna bang his head against a wall sksksk

TO BE FAIR! When he asks you out, he always refers to it as "hanging out" so you can't be blamed for getting confused

You decide to sit down with some ice cream and talk about how you both feel

He admits that he's been crushing on you for a while before you met and that he wanted to date you

You shyly admit that you find him very attractive but thought he was out of your league so you never considered that he could have feelings for you he's gonna crack his head open on the pavement omg sksksk

He reassures you that he genuinely likes you and is attracted to you and wants to have a romantic relationship with you

It's hard for you to believe, he's just so handsome and big and strong, is this real life or a dream??

You decide to let him prove it to you with more dates uwu

You start getting closer to him, letting him put his arm around around you, holding your hand

You're very anxious when he tries to kiss you, but once it happens it feels like fireworks are going off in your brain

You really like kissing him, just because he's always so gentle and he's so close and he's warm

You really, really like him 🥺

But don't worry sweet love, he likes you just as much if not more sksksk

He's so obsessed with you it's honestly kind of silly sksksk

He thinks about you all the time! And he wants to be with you all the time! He feels like he's gonna explode every time you show up to a date in a cute outfit!

He wants to make the relationship official and exclusive, so he asks to make a vlog with you

You agree! Not only do you think it would be good traction for your channel, but it would be nice to spend the day with him :)

You both bring your cameras on the day of the vlog!

You start by getting breakfast, showing off your coffees

He gets annoyed that you JUST have a coffee, but you swear it fills you up and he lets it slide as long as you eat a good lunch

Then you go to the gym together! You just hang out on the treadmill while he does his weight lifting

Tbh he's very distracted by your outfit, your leggings make your ass look so fucking good, and he would've been fucked if he didn't have a spotter

Then you go to lunch and you gush about the food and the restaurant and he's infatuated with you 💕

You turn the camera towards him and he's just got a lovesick look on his face

Then you go to a movie and then you go to his apartment for dinner!

You cook dinner together, making a meal that the both of you can enjoy, one that is nutritious AND delicious

You finish the vlog by showing off your finished plates and talking about what a fun day you had :)

You're ready to pack up your stuff and go home, but he asks if you'd like to stay and hang out a bit more

You oblige. You're dating now so it makes sense for yall to spend more time together

You decide to cuddle up and watch a movie, but 20 minutes in, you guys are making out on his couch sksksk

Things get hot and heavy pretty quick, and now his hand is going up your shirt and he's squeezing your waist and you start getting shy 😔

Does he really want you? Is he really interested in you? Is he sure that he wants you and your body?

But then your leg moves and rubs against his crotch and good lordy you can feel his boner 😳

Ok, goodbye insecurities, he's def into you and you're gonna get your man 😏

You go to the bedroom, undress, and oh boy he is enamored by you

Your breasts, your thighs, your BELLY?? You're gorg and he's obsessed

But he's not the only one drooling sksksk has he seen himself lately? He's sculpted like a god, you can't believe you scored a guy like him

AND NOT TO MENTION HIS COCK SKSKSK like that thing is long and thick, you're genuinely wondering if it's gonna fot

The two of you spend a good five minutes just staring at each other and complimenting each others' physiques

Eventually you get to the sex part sksksk but there's a lot of praise along the way

He's so cute the way he kisses down your body and spreads your legs and nuzzles into your mound

He's not too bad at giving head. You have to give him a little direction but he gets the hang of it and makes you cum

You admit that you're a little scared of sucking his dick so he doesn't make you, you just go to the main event

You're not sure if you should let him hit it raw but you're too impatient to let him get a condom, you're on birth control and you need that dick NOW

He slides in very easily, you are unbelievably wet and oh my god, if he doesn't focus then he'll cum so easily

He fits inside you so well, filling you up just right without any pain

It's such a good fit, his cock feels soooooo good inside you

And then he starts thrusting and all bets are off

The sex is so fucking good, oh my GOD

He just keeps hitting your sweet spots and rubbing your clit and oh god you're cumming already

Your cunt squeezes him so deliciously and you're so pretty and cute when you cum and holy fuck the noises you make are just sinful and he needs to slow down bc if he doesnt he's not gonna last long

He makes you cum three times before he pulls out and cums all over your tummy

Thinks you look so cute covered in his cum 🥴

He ends up cleaning you off with his tongue which just makes you needy again and you ask him oh so sweetly if he can fuck you one more time and whoops now his cock is hard again, guess he's gotta fuck you 🤷‍♀️

You guys go at it all night, eventually showering and going to bed around 4am

Of course you sleep over, ain't no way in hell he's letting you leave after all that

You sleep in together and when you wake up he makes you breakfast 🥺💕

He uploads his vlog after editing it the next day, and you upload yours

Your comments are very sweet at first, congratulating you on your new relationship with this other influencer

But then they turn mean :( people start to say that you're not good enough for him, why is he even with you, he should be with this other fitness influencer instead :(

He is pissed. His fans are attacking you on your page 😡

He makes a video the next day and posts it where he explains that he loves you and is happy with you and that until the hate comments stop, he will not be posting on his page

He helps you delete and mute and block and filter comments and users

He's very upset about this entire experience

"I guess you don't want to be with me anymore, huh?" you ask

He's offended and hurt!

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, you saw what they said. Maybe you should be with someone better..."

"What are you talking about? I love you, Y/N. You're perfect for me and I don't want anyone else. Do you just not want to be with me?"

"No! I do! I just... worry that I'm not good enough for you..."

He grabs your hands and makes you look at him

"Y/N, you are perfect to me. I couldn't ask for anyone better. I love you and I want to be with you. Please don't let these trolls dictate your life."

You're still hurt by the comments, but your feelings for him overpower the negative things you're feeling

You keep dating, and as time goes on, you care less and less about the comments that were made about your relationship

You continue with your channel and vlogs with him and enjoy your life

You still get backlash every now and then from obsessed friends, but when that happens, you just turn your computer off and go on about your day

Negativity can really affect your life, but he's always there to cheer you up and fuck you stupid so you forget all those mean comments sksksk

You become the "it" couple in the fitness and cooking communities, everyone thinks you're so so cute together and such a good match, so fuck those online trolls! Your cooking besties and his gym bros love you two together and that's all that matters 💕

I imagine he proposes after a year of dating, not wanting to waste any more time without you

He proposes at your favorite restaurant, but you say no :(

To be fair, your reasons are justified. You guys have rarely had arguments, you haven't gone through many trials in your life, you don't even live together! How can you be sure that he's the one when you haven't truly struggled with him yet?

He understands, although he's diappointed 😔

On the bright side, you suggest moving in to an apartment together once your leases are up! And he's very happy about that :)

You guys adopt some kitty cats after you move in together! You adopt two kittens from the same litter and you love them so so much, they often appear in your vlogs and sometimes you do cat reviews like on cat trees and toys and stuff

He encourages you to go to the gym for health reasons, but he doesn't push it. He just wants you to take care of yourself so you can be around for as long as possible 💕

He's gained a little bit of pudge! He's still strong as hell, but he's got a little layer of fat over some of his muscles like his abs, he's just not as sculpted now

It's bc he can't resist your food sksksk

But you're still very attracted to him so he doesn't care so much

Overall, beautiful love story, match made in heaven 💕

[cryptidbear]

YES! YOU GET IT!!!

The angst of it all is just perfect, honestly.

the back and forth between his kids ending up as robins or vigilantes in general.

the fear of finding them dead like he did Bruce.

the fear of not returning alive to his kids like Bruce did.

But seeing younger him in them when they fight to be robin or anything else-

the same way he used to fight Bruce.

and he knows he can't keep doing it alone, knows Gotham needs a light he can't give to them now that he's Batman, something that only Robin could give.

but that fear is so deeply rooted that he feels stuck in place, unsure of what to even do.

I have some notes i wrote down back when i was brainstorming the au-

Jason wants to be a hero- he wants to fight alongside Dick. He wants to help Crime Alley- his home, and better it.

Dick's heart seizes in fear and he absolutely forbids it, a hard no. His foot is down. "I can't lose you too, Jason. I can't lose another family member, I can't watch someone I love die to crime another time. Just... grow up a normal kid. Please."

Jason is angry at this answer, his hands clutching into his hoodie as he shouts with tears in his eyes, asking Dick how he thinks he feels watching Dick go out all alone as Batman and coming back looking like a damned corpse? If Dick dies... then Jason is all alone again. He's afraid of another parental figure dying.

Dick is left reeling as the young boy storms off, his heart dropping into his stomach, stuck between a rock and a hard place, feeling like the weight of everything was finally crushing him.

But he doesn't take back what he says. It hurts, but he doesn't want to see Jason ever get hurt. He doesn't think he can handle it. He doesn't think he could survive it.

He's lost enough already, hasn't he?

And then one night, Jason steals Dick's old Robin costume from his early days from the display case, wrinkling his nose as he dawns the pixie boots. Because pixie boots, really Dick?

And he's sneaking out once Dick has left for patrol, long after the young boy was supposed to be asleep.

the suit is ill fitting but he feels light as air as he stumbles his way across rooftops, using his skills he'd learned while living on the streets to prowl unseen by Batman.

Or, at least he thinks he's being sneaky, until Dick is snatching him up by the bright yellow cape, and in a loud angry voice he's never had directed at him from Dick, the older male lets his anger gets the best of him. Yells at him on some random rooftop, all the emotions and fears he's kept bottled up for so long spilling out as he sees Jason in his old Robin suit.

He says things he doesn't mean, things he immediately regrets as he see's Jason's heart break and tears bead up in Jason's eyes.

watches with dread as the young boy just breaks down in a way he never has before right there on the rooftop, and before Dick can even apologize, the boy has run off, quick as lightning.

It takes two excruciating hours before he finds Jason hidden somewhere in Crime Alley, still sobbing and curled up, tucked away in some hidden corner, soaked from the rain.

Dick collapses in front of the boy and just draws him tight to his chest, covering the shivering boy with his cape and warming him up, his back against a wall and the tiny boy cradled in his lap, his head tucked beneath his chin.

they don't speak for a long while, silent as they both try to process their own emotions, as Dick tries to navigate something he never thought he'd have to.

"I'm afraid of losing you like I lost him." he admits, quiet in the wind as he holds the boy closer, almost desperately like he's afraid he'll disappear if he doesn't. "I just finally started living again... and i can't lose the one light I have."

its silent for a while once more, Dick weighing his options on what he should do,

Jason speaks up next, speaking of the way crime alley needed help, help that Batman couldn't give on his own. Things that he just couldn't understand without growing up there.

Dick listens to his son, listens to the passionate way he speaks, listens to how Jason opens up about Catherine, and about the gangs and how its barely livable there anymore.

Dick can't deny him anymore after that.

He breaks and gives in, a small, wet laugh leaving his lips. "There's no one else I'd rather be my robin." he whispers.

They don't discuss it anymore that night, Dick carrying the boy back to the manor.

They both end up with bad colds and Alfred scolds the both of them, but he doesn't leave the boy's side the whole time, trying to make up for his mistakes. for all the hurt he caused.

Once they're better, Dick lays out the rules, trying to find solutions to make them both happy.

School will be Jason's number one priority, and Jason can only do short patrols on weekdays, longer on weekends.

He would not go out until he had a few months of training, except to keep watch for Batman.

Dick would take him on patrol through crime alley, and they would work together to figure out what they needed to do to help.

He was not allowed on missions or to fight any super dangerous fights- no matter how much he wanted to. not until he was on the field for a long time, thank you very much.

Jason hates some of the rules, but he finally relents after a long time debating over it, knowing that Dick had some good points, even though he's never tell the man that.

Dick lets Jason redesign the robin costume to suit him better, and the first thing Jason does is add pants. he was really fucking cold in Dick's outfit and he didn't like it.

Jason becomes crime alley's Robin, recognized as one of their own. It starts to slowly blossom under his guidance, bit by bit over the years.

(one day I'll actually write this fully fleshed out as a fic and not just 3 am rambles, lol)

(and one day i'll write about the other kids too, i just haven't written past like, Jason and Tim meeting for the first time bc i'm brainstorming chapter by chapter oops.)

Lying awake at 5 am thinking of the au I planned out where Batman dies before Dick ever becomes Nightwing, so Dick becomes Batman and he ends up adopting all his siblings instead.

19/20 year old Dick Grayson staring down at a like 10-13 year old Jason Todd trying to steal his tires and understanding why Bruce took him home that day at the circus.

Dick Grayson staring at Jason who brought home a young Tim and feeling like he can never let Tim go, or maybe him finding the young boy taking photos one late night.

Dick finding out about (baby!) Damian and stealing him. That's *his* son now.

Him finding Cass and just accepting he has a daughter too. Doesn't even fight it anymore.

Duke? He just sighs and wraps the kid up in a blanket. Alfred's already got a room set up for him by the time they're back at the manor.

Eventually, Tim and Steph date and break up (she gets to finally have a good time as Robin PLEASE) but Dick gets said when she stops coming to family dinner. She starts coming again bc she can't stand the puppy dog eyes. She's his unofficial daughter.

Barbara and Alfred just watching all this go down and staring to place bets on when they think another shows up.

Dick but he just inherits his father's adoption problems.

Ft uncle Clark and aunt Lois with (baby!!!) Kon and eventually a baby Jon.

Ft an unholy amount of angst almost every damned chapter.

[the-travelling-witch]

bnha x farming sims

katsuki, or bakugo as he insists you call him, is the black smith with the foul mood and even fouler mouth. he’s not happy you’re bothering him so early in the morning and he’ll let you know. still, you make it a point to visit him regularly (and definitely not bc seeing him work by the forge in sleeveless shirts has you looking respectfully) and slowly but surely, he’s starting to warm up to you. well, katsuki’s way of warming up to someone, but progress is progress nonetheless. now take the shovel he totally didn’t make specifically for you before he whacks you over the head with it.

deku can be found running around the general store most of the time. he’s bright and cheery as he greets you, carrying heavy crates of produce like they weigh nothing. if it wasn’t for midoriya, you think you might have had a few more breakdowns, both mentally and physically, when you started life on your farm. you were of course also grateful for his help lugging animal food around but his friendly attitude and warm presence meant everything to you when you moved to a town where you knew nobody.

todoroki shouto is the mayor’s son, unwillingly following behind his father as he comes to greet you on your first day. afflicted by the nerves of your fresh start, you interpret his court greeting as immediate dislike and make a note not to bother him much in the future. however, one evening at the tavern, deku waves you over to their table and helps bridge some of the gaps between you. noting it’s not a dislike of you and just shouto’s natural stoic demeanour, you can’t help but warm up to him, heart fluttering when he graces you with a small smile.

kirishima is intimidating… for about 0.2 seconds. then he’s already showing you a bright smile and clapping a big hand on your back, nearly knocking you over. it doesn’t shock you at all to learn that he does a lot of the physical labour around town, from carrying materials around to splitting wood for the winter. the only surprising thing about him is the choice of his best friend because seriously? katsuki?? nevertheless, seeing kirishima always puts you in a more cheerful mood and he’s always more than ready to help you when you’ve run into a problem or another.

at first, you give kaminari a wide berth. not because he has done anything bad to you, per se, but more so because his reputation precedes him. you wouldn’t think someone could be branded as a flirt in a town as small as this, and yet he proves you wrong. it doesn’t help that, when you introduced yourself, he wiggled his eyebrows and dropped a line that made mina slap him upside the head. though, inevitably you come to find that a reputation isn’t necessarily the entire truth. and denki could really be quite cute, making you laugh with a dumb joke or another, when he wasn’t thinking with what’s in his pants.

keigo is in and out of town like a whirlwind, travelling between your more remote village and the more bustling locations some distance away. you come to learn that todoroki enji relies on his information quite a lot. your farm opens up more possibilities for trading routes in and out of town again, so it’s inevitable that keigo comes up to strike up a conversation sooner or later. his laissez-faire attitude is a pleasant breath of fresh air compared to the mayor’s gruff comments and you can’t help but laugh along with him. as you see more of each other, becoming close enough to chat over drinks at the tavern quite often, he brings you back interesting trinkets from his trips. in your minimalist home, they make the living space feel cosier and actually lived in; not to mention, you can’t help but think of the blond whenever you look at them.

[pegasussomnus]

timber is bad for tim's character:

A. There is no real good reason to have him paired with Tim. He only appeared in six issues and none of his interactions with Tim gave us insight into who Tim was as a character or lead to any meaningful developments. The whole 'he represents the War Games era of Tim in terms of uncertainity' or 'his civilian life before losing his dad' that was used by the author, is just untrue as we never see Tim seriously appreciate his friendship like he does with say Ives, or the people at Brentwood as something that keeps him grounded or as a distraction from the hero life/normaly he needs nor do his interactions with Tim show said uncertainty like the struggle of balancing the civilian/hero life that we saw his above friends do. All of his appearances are either comic relief or a springboard/exposition for more important developments such as Tim's relationship with Darla.

There is also how he wasn't a close friend of Tim and more often than not, Tim was shown to not like him too much. At best they were casual friends and none of their interactions went beyond that. The nicest thing Tim said about him is that he "THINKS he's going to END UP LIKING" him not that he actually does so which at best shows Tim is willing to give him a shot.

At worst? Well

Yeah. The first panel is his first impression of him while the last three are the LAST interactions/mentions Tim has with him and occur after saying he 'thinks he's going to end up liking him'.

It makes no sense why Tim would even want to reconnect with him let alone date him. Tim's opinion of Bernard went from "I guess we can be friends but this guy is sus to "maybe he's not so bad and deserves a shot" to "nah screw this guy". It's telling we keep getting sold a false meta history of them being super close friends and have Bernard essentially replace Ives to try and sell the pairing.

B. Like it really doesn't do anything for Tim at all.

Bernard doesn't help Tim grow as a character, or even as a person relationship wise as Tim is still doing the same faults he did in past relationships with civilians not telling them he is Robin, keeping secrets, cutting dates/missing them, etc). but they are "resolved" by just making Bernard some ultra perfect guy who knows Tim's identity

Aka the resolution he had with Stephanie in terms of the civilian/hero life balance of having someone who knows both, so Tim is getting a balance he already had and not to mention you can't even say Tim progressed in this manner or learned from his mistakes as he never revealed his ID in the first place, so it requires no growth on his end) (never explained how he does, not to mention watering down Tim's competence in keeping his ID) so it's all moot.

Tim also doesn't progress in his civilian life at all. Like he lives on a boat and (it is said that Bernard helped motivate him to do this but never shown/explained at all and all we see is Bernard saying he likes it and the people there)? Like he doesn't even meaningfuly develop a connection with the people there aside from friendly neighbors at best. As an example There was this "subplot" of them being in danger of being evicted but Tim just doesn't care at all or do anything. Like why not use some of his wealth from his dad or something to like buy people's boats and resell them at a cheaper price so the people can stay?

The people on the boat don't even offer him a meaningful civilian connection as like I said he just doesn't connect with them and even then that civilian connection is kind of moot in the last issue when they all know his identity as Robin so that balance or finding a solution is rendered moot for the same reasons as above as he already found that balance with the Batfamily/YJ friends who know both aspects of his life and again he didn't even it reveal it to them.

Like what do they offer him? People to chill in a non-vigilante way? Like he can already do that with the Batfam/YJ and not to mention that as the series showed the Marina got involved in a lot of Robin related stuff because of Tim's ID, so it's also moot.

Another point is how Bernard for a 'relationship for Tim beyond Robin' really is a relationship where the substance largely comes from Robin. Like aside from Robin is how they got together which Bernard even states in issue 3, in the beginning of issue 7 when Bernard list why he likes Tim all the things he likes about him are reflective of his role as Robin. Like his whole trusting Tim to keep him safe, Tim being special, and Tim being his lucky charm, the examples he uses are of Tim saving him as Robin/being Robin.

And issue 7 also shows like I said above that what saves the relationship is Bernard knowing that Tim is Robin. Not to mention how he really only opens up to Tim/confides in him seriously when Tim is Robin as shown in issue 3 and 9. Hell in issue 3 when he talks about wanting to help Tim, knowing that he knows his ID, when he talks about Tim 'taking too much on his own and not asking for help and loosing himself or whatever' we know it's about Robin.

And issue 10 the grand saving moment for their relationship after the 'falling out' in issue 9 was Bernard saving the day in a Robin related mission and getting the ID reveal (but not really)

Issue 7 highlights how Tim really doesn't do anything for Bernard as Tim. Like all he does is tell him that his parents suck, he's great to make him feel better, and tell us a bunch of stuff about Bernard we've never seen before.....twice and given how the issue kept emphasizing this point (to the point where villains commented on it) and how over the top his parents/with Bernards heroic it felt generic and like the bare minimum and Tim felt like an exposition device.

Tim never really talks to him about his issues with his parents or actually substantially helps him as after Tim does the above it immediately cuts back to their relationship for cute moments. Like Bernard giving him the necklace isn't even connected to Tim 'helping' as he was gonna do that anyway.

Tim as a civilain is just the BF and the real substance comes from Robin (as it was a Robin related mission and Tim saving civilians as Bernard which lead/inspired Bernard trying to save his parents and oh look Robin once again is tied to their relationship)

TLDR: Bernard doesn't make sense as a pairing, doesn't do anything for Tim as a character nor fulfill the purpose he was supposedly brought back for

The mental gymnastics people do to hate timber should be studied under a microscope.

The fuck you mean he is bad bisexual rep because he is dating a man… and how does that makes him gay???? Have you ever talked to a bisexual person???

“Oh it makes less of his past relationships” how?? How?!? Is he not allowed to be infatuated with his current partner? Should he continue pining after his past relationships even tho he is dating someone else???

[deadhands69]

Will you be my Valentine?: Villains

How does your favorite villain act on Valentine’s day when they have a crush on you?

villain edition ▷ masc version ▷ fem version

Toga is pretty open. If she has a crush on you, you probably already know. If you somehow haven’t figured it out by now, you DEFINITELY will by the end of Valentine’s day. She brought you cute things and is being wayyy more over the top flirty than usual. On top of that, she made reservations for something cute like a cat cafe or a movie.

She’s also chasing you with a knife (it’s her love language!) Don’t worry,  you’ll get used to it. Probably.

How to handle this: Give her a little blood as a gift and she’ll calm down (again: probably.)

Shigaraki is grouchier than usual. Partially because he “didn’t ask to be subjected to this stupid holiday.” Mostly because he never saw all this “lovey dovey shit” as anything meant for him, but being around you makes him wish it was. So, Tomura is going to be in a bad mood all day but he’s also following you around like a lost puppy. Kurogiri noticed this and is trying so hard to quietly set up situations to give him a little push before leaving and watching from the other room. Playing romantic music before the two of you walk into the living room. Leaving tea for two out in the dining room. After his hints are not received, he eventually gives in and just walks into the room asking the two of you if there's anywhere you'd like him to warp you for the evening. Tomura is full deer in the headlights after that, you'll have to answer.

How to handle this: He’s complaining about how stupid it all is and he wants you to tell him how much you love and care about him agree and laugh about it. Careful what you say though, he startles easily.

Compress is the opposite. He pulled out all the stops. You left briefly to grab something from the convenience store and when you get back he has the whole entryway decorated. Roses, balloons, a giant sign asking you to be his Valentine. He has a full choreographed routine declaring his undying love for you. It doesn’t tone down from there either, fancy dinner, a sunset walk, and every romantic cliche you can imagine.

How to handle this: He put the effort in, all you need to do is be excited along with him.

Twice also put in a lot of effort. Candles and rose petals EVERYWHERE. He went back and forth on whether it was too much, but after watching Compress, he decided some decorations, chocolate, and champagne really aren't that over the top. He's pretty open to ideas on where things go from there - you being there is the important part.

How to handle this: No need to show up with a present or do anything in particular. You spending time with him is a gift in itself. 

Dabi is awwwkkkkwwarrrrddddd. He’s trying so hard but it’s all new for him. You’ve never seen him flustered like this. Stumbling over words. Taking you somewhere cute (well, cute by his standards) but forgetting to indicate that it’s a date in any way. He just insulted you (accidentally) while trying to give you a compliment. He sees it all happening and in no way knows how to make it stop. In his defense, he has no romantic experience nor has he witnessed how any happy adult couples behave. He's only going off of what he's seen in movies (not much) and the less-unhinged things he chose to take from Toga's advice.

How to handle this: Put in any effort and he’ll completely cave (once he realizes you’re not fucking with him.)

Spinner seems like the type to do something very lowkey and specific to you. It’ll be subtle, but nice. He won’t go overboard or drag you out to crowded restaurants, but he’ll watch your favorite movie with you. Play your favorite game. Do something related to your hobbies. The little things you never thought anyone would notice, but he does. He texted you a week or two in advance to see if you were free before showing up in person. Nervously, he stood in your doorway, eyes glued to the floor while he quietly stuttered his way through asking you to hang out. As he's leaving, he realizes he may have accidentally made it sound a lot more casual than he intended for it to be.

How to handle this: He put so much more into this than it seems, please notice!

masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter

[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”