#but a good amount??? like I thought we were moving on from this

[cha0s-junkie]

Yandere platonic gay couple like and emperor and a counbcine and we work as a maid serving the emperor? If you don’t want to do it that’s fine!

platonic yandere! royal couple x servant!reader

warnings; infantilism, yandere behavior

--

The emperor has a soft spot for you. At least, that's what the rest of the castle says.

Most of the other maids aren't allowed to be near the emperor for a lengthy time, but he demands it. He demands you to be near him, he wants you to eat with him during meals. But you've always thought that that's just how he treated most of his servants.

"You're kidding. That man hates his work staff, treats us like dirt. You're too pampered that's why you don't know." One of the other maids had said to you.

"I've always thought that you were his long lost child or something," Another says. "Honestly, it's ridiculous how well you're treated compared to the rest of us."

This has caused the rest of the servants to hate you. They hate you for something that you can't control, being the emperor's favorite maid. Or something.

You don't miss the judgmental staring as you walk past the maids that stood outside his chambers, and as the doors swing open revealing a large feast. Enough to feed the entire castle, but only the emperor and his concubine sat at the table.

You had your head bowed, as expected of all the working staff in the castle, not looking into his eyes until he asks.

You don't see how his eyes light up at your entrance and how he beams at you. "Ah, finally. Come, come sit down. We have something special for you today."

You nod silently, taking the empty spot far away from the emperor. There wasn't any regulations regarding servants and where they sat on the dining table because usually, servants never sat near the emperor. Or even shared meals with them. It was just you, you had the privilege of eating with him.

It never felt like it was a privilege. More like an obligation. Horror stories of those who opposed him and how he would execute them circulated the castle, you'd rather stay alive to hear them instead of ending up being a story that servants would tell each other.

He frowns at how far you were away from him. "Why don't you sit closer? Don't be shy, I don't bite." An order. His tone was light, but you knew it wasn't a suggestion.

"My apologies, your majesty." You keep your head bowed as you moved near him.

Today was different. If the amount of food wasn't giving it away already, the barely hidden excitement on his face gave it away. As you sat down in the chair, the emperor drags you right next to him as he places a plate down in front of you.

Weird. But the emperor was known for trying weird intimidation tactics like this, you assume that was what he was doing to you now.

"Aren't you hungry?" His fingers lightly push your chin up, making you look up at him. He lets you go and you nod, looking back down at your food. He had a spoon in his hand, bringing it to your mouth as if he was going to feed you.

You jerked your head back but quickly apologized. "I'm sorry sir I just- I can feed myself, your majesty."

"It's okay, I want to feed you," His smile seems more strained now. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. "Open up."

You reluctantly opened your mouth, allowing him to feed you. At least the food was good. He praised you as you chewed, his concubine sat nearby smiling at you as well.

"I knew you'd like it, told him it was your favorite." His concubine said, lightly tapping the emperor's shoulder.

You just smiled at him politely. You didn't want to be there anymore, this was getting weirder by the moment. "Is there anything you needed me here for, your majesty?"

He scooped up more food on the spoon and lifted it up to your mouth. "Yes, there was something we wanted to bring up. But first..."

Ah right, eating. You opened your mouth again and he feeds you, smiling contentedly. He doesn't stop until your plate is empty, the condescension never ending as he praised you. You felt like a child under their gaze, they talked to each other as if you weren't there only occasionally giving you compliments when you obediently followed his orders.

Opening your mouth so that he could feed you and the occasional dabbing your mouth with a cloth. Orders.

You want to ask again why on earth were you here, but he raises his hand. You flinch when his hand lands gently on your shoulder, another cupping your face.

You swore your heart stopped when his hands landed so near your neck. Did you mess up somewhere? Was he just feeding you just to make you feel safe so that killing you would be more satisfying?

"I want you to be our child." Oh. This was far worse. He notices your confusion. "Your presence has always been a joy in our lives, little dear."

"I-I don't-" This had to be a nightmare. His smile is soft as he shushes you. "No need to thank me, we just want the best for our child."

Thank?

"Your majesty I'm-" Disgusted? Terrified? "Flattered, but I couldn't possibly accept this. I'm-I'm just a servant, there are far better choices for heirs."

"It wasn't an offer, you're our child now. No more serving us. There is no one else more perfect than you are, my dear."

There was no getting out of this, was there?

--

Sorry this took so long to get out!! hope you like it :33!!

[vinnyvamppp]

HEAR ME OUTTT

You should write for Nolan Grayson, the drought for fics w/him are very much real 😭

The Replacement PT 1

NOTE: I'VE BEEN WANTING TO BUT THE AMOUNT OF MARK GRAYSON OR INVINCIVLE VARIANT REQUESTS I HAVE ARE MAKING MY FINGERS CRAMP. With that being said, I present to you:

Synopsis: Earth has made him comfortable. Weak, even. His half-human son may never be strong enough to carry the Viltrumite legacy, and his pet or wife is a distraction he can no longer afford. But you offer him a solution: a true heir.

Warnings: Considerations of Cheating, Drama, Childhood Friends, Changes to Plot For Convenience, Pre-Invincible Timeline, Nolan's Beginnings To Conquering Earth, AND DW HE STILL HAS HIS LOVING FAMILY. Word Count: 1,493

Omni-Man/Nolan Grayson x Viltrumite!Reader

The air was thin at this altitude, but it was nothing to you. Standing on the snow-dusted peak, your loincloth barely moved in the wind, a contrast to the thoughts swirling around you. Below, the world stretched in all directions, so vulnerable, so fragile.

"You've been here for too long, Nolan." Your voice was measured, but sharp enough to carve through the silence. Across from you, Nolan Grayson stood with his arms crossed, his expression impassive, but you knew better. He had always been good at masking his thoughts, but you had centuries of experience reading him. His stance, the way his fingers subtly tensed, told you everything.

"I don’t need a reminder," he replied, his voice laced with something close to amusement. "I assume you didn’t travel across the galaxy just to lecture me?" You took a step forward, tilting your head. "No. I came because your absence has been noted."

His brow twitched, just slightly. Even after all these years, Viltrumites hated the idea of being monitored. "They sent you?" You scoffed. "They don't know I'm here." Now, that got his attention. His eyes, those sharp, calculating things, narrowed as he studied you. “And why would you withhold that information?”

"Because I know you, Nolan. Better than they do." You folded your arms, mirroring his stance. "I know why you’re hesitating." For a moment, he said nothing. You let the silence stretch between you, let him wrestle with the implications. It wasn't hesitation from weakness. No, that wasn’t Nolan. But sentimentality? Attachment? Those were cracks in his foundation, and cracks were dangerous.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. "You think I’ve gone soft?" He asked, your lips pursing momentarily in thought. "I think you’ve gone comfortable," you corrected, your gaze flicking toward the horizon where a city pulsed with artificial lights. "This planet is changing you. The longer you stay, the harder it will be to finish what you started."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You sound like Thragg." That name sent a flicker of irritation crawling down your skin. "Thragg wouldn't have given you the courtesy of a conversation." His amusement faded. He knew that was true.

You took another step, closing the distance between you. "You need an anchor, Nolan. A reason to return to Viltrum when this mission is complete. And her—" your lip curled slightly as you referenced the human woman, Debbie, "—is not it." His eyes narrowed. "Careful."

"Don’t pretend you care," you retorted, undeterred. "A convenience? What is she to you, Nolan?" Silence. “She’s nothing compared to us—compared to what we are.” He began his admission, “But I allowed myself to pretend otherwise. A weakness. She is nothing more than that, and she never was.” His fingers twitched at his side, mulling over the betrayal in his words.

"You may think you've bought yourself time, but Earth won't make you stronger, and neither will playing house with a human," you continued. "But if you were to have a child with me—one who could be raised with the strength of our people, not poisoned by human frailty, you wouldn’t have to do this alone." Nolan’s jaw tensed. “Mark is already half-Viltrumite.” "Mark is half of something weak," you countered. "Would he ever be allowed to stand among our kind? Would you? You know the truth, Nolan, when the time comes, he will be an obstacle. She will be an obstacle." His silence was damning.

You let the weight of your words settle. Then, more softly, you added, "You’re too valuable to be cast aside, Nolan. But without proof of your commitment, they will find someone else to finish what you couldn’t." His eyes met yours again, and for the first time in years, you saw something shift behind them.

"You can still have what you came here for," you pressed, voice just above a whisper. "A family. A legacy. But one that ensures your survival when all of this—," you gestured to the planet below, "burns." For the first time that night, Nolan didn’t have an immediate response.

And that was the first sign that you were winning. The wind howled between you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then— "I need time to think," Nolan said finally, his voice low, rough as he remained perturbed. "You need time to think," you echoed, tilting your head slightly. "Very well. But let me give you something worth thinking about, Nolan."

His eyes flicked to you, wary. He had always disliked being cornered, and yet, here he was, trapped by words instead of fists. You turned away from him slightly, eyes tracing the horizon, as if lost in thought. Then, your voice softened. Not weak. Never weak. But calculated. Controlled. "He needed time too," you murmured. Nolan’s brow furrowed. "Who?"

"My husband."

The words alone felt like steel being drawn across a whetstone—sharp, deliberate, preparing for something deeper. "You never spoke of him," Nolan said after a pause. "Because there was nothing to speak of," you replied. "Not anymore." You let the silence stretch, allowing the weight of your words to settle before continuing.

"He was strong, Nolan. Stronger than most. He had earned his place in the Empire a thousand times over. Conquered dozens of planets before we were even paired." Your voice remained even, but there was a restrained edge beneath it. "And yet, for all his strength, for all his victories, he died." Nolan's eyes darkened, watching you carefully. "How?"

You exhaled sharply through your nose, gaze still locked on the distant city below. "An inferior race." The words dripped with disgust, as if merely saying them left a foul taste in your mouth. "A species that should have never been a threat. But they were desperate. And desperation, as you know, makes lesser beings reckless."

Your fists clenched at your sides, but your voice remained steady. "They used weapons he hadn't accounted for. They didn't fight—they ambushed. A tactic born from fear, not strength. A coward's strategy. And he paid the price for underestimating them."

You turned back to Nolan now, expression tense. "I watched as they burned his body. As the remains of a Viltrumite were reduced to nothing by hands that should have never been capable of harming him." His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

And so, you pressed further.

"You understand now, don’t you?" you asked, voice low. "It doesn't matter how strong we are if we allow weakness to fester. If we allow ourselves to hesitate." A pause. "You think I’m hesitating?" Nolan’s voice was quieter this time, as if testing the words himself.

You gave him a pointed look. "I know you are. We have been friends for centuries."

For the first time since your arrival, he didn’t deny it.

A victorious chill crawled up your spine.

"I thought of you after he died," you admitted, stepping closer. "Among all the warriors of our kind, there are few I would have ever considered worthy. But you, Nolan... you have always been different." Something flickered in his eyes. It wasn’t pride, not yet, but it was something dangerously close.

"You are one of the strongest among us," you continued, voice soothing. "You were sent here because of that strength. But even the strong can fall, Nolan." Your words took a sharp turn, more insidious. "Do you think our kind will mourn you if that happens? Do you think they will even blink if you are slaughtered by an inferior race? You know what they will say?"

He didn’t answer. But you did.

"They will say you were not strong enough." The words hung between you, suffocating. Nolan’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides. You could feel the trepidation building within him, the conflict. Then, you leaned in just slightly, gaze unwavering. "But you are strong enough, aren’t you? Strong enough to ensure your legacy does not die on a planet of insects."

Silence.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "If we do this," Nolan said finally, voice low, measured. "It is not because I need your help. It is because it is logical." A slow grin tugged at the corner of your combined lips. "Of course."

He exhaled, running a hand down his chin, and for the first time, he looked… unsure. "I’ll contact you soon." The words left his mouth slow, deliberate. But even as he spoke, his gaze lingered on you for longer than it should have. There was no hesitation in his stance now, no rejection in his posture. Only consideration and calculation. He was already deciding. Already choosing, even if he refused to say it outright. And that was enough for now. "Take all the time you need." Then, with one final glance toward the city below, you added, "But not too much. We wouldn’t want you getting too... comfortable again."

And with that, you disappeared into the night, leaving Nolan alone in the skies with the weight of his thoughts.

Should I do a part 2? I just like being messy on here.

[takenbypeter]

Pastry Shop Stop

Matt Murdock x reader

Words: 609

Part 2 of suspicious activities of a blind man, it’s just a lil blurb nothing too fancy but figured I’d add a little more to the story. Maybe there will be a 3rd part who knows 👀

Here’s part 1 for those of you who haven’t read it: Part 1

After that initial interaction at the bar it didn’t take long for you to see Matt again. 

Actually it only took two days before he actually was in the shop that you worked at. 

It was silly but you felt a bit of excitement when you saw him standing at the end of your line, it was like that feeling you felt when a special guest that you really liked appeared on your favorite television show. 

Although you tried your best to calm yourself you did feel a bit anxious as he made his way to your counter.

Pulling yourself together you said the normal greeting. “Welcome to our little shop, what can we get for you today?”

You heard him let out a single chuckle, “well I’m not too sure I can’t exactly see the menu.”

“Ah, right.” Trying to move past your own blunder you began to list out some of the delicacies. From danishes, to eclairs, you listed each item. 

“That’s an overwhelming amount of options,” he said after you’d finished. 

“I know.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The questions surprised you a bit, a good surprise. You hesitated giving it a good thought before ultimately coming up with an answer, “I like the cinnamon buns. They’re warm and delicious and they’re pretty filling.”

“I’ll take three cinnamon buns, one for each member of my team.”

“Alright, that’ll be twenty ninety-five, and I’ll put those in right now.”

After giving him his change and putting the order in, you turned to him again. He was now the only customer in the store. 

After a moment of staring at the man while you both waited for your coworker to finish his pastries, you tried to fill the silence that no doubt only you felt was awkward, “is it bad that I’m still not completely sold on the whole blind thing?”

His lips tugged, revealing his teeth as he laughed, almost like he was glad you wanted to banter with him. “What am I going to have to do to prove it to you?”

You looked up contemplating what it would take before blurting out the first thing you could think of, “I don’t know, fight me.” And for a moment you feel you went a bit too forward as he grew quiet before he laughed again. 

“You’re funny.”

“Thanks I try.”

You shared a look before your eyes widened, “Wait, does not believing you make me ableist?”

Matt tilted his head, “I think it actually does.”

“Oh no, does that make me a Karen? I don't want to be a Karen.”

“I happen to know a pretty great Karen.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Matt Murdock.”

Matt’s lips never dropped from their curve. He liked the way his name sounded coming from your lips, but that didn’t stop his eyebrow from lifting. 

Sensing what he was about to question you pulled out the card that you had in your pocket. “This card fell from your friend’s pocket, I did some research and found you guys online.”

Matt couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride that you were curious enough to search him up.

He opened his mouth to say something else but your attention was grabbed by the motion behind you. 

“And here are your cinnamon buns. Let me know how they taste.”

“Will do.” Reaching up with one hand he takes them and smiles offering you a wave. 

“Bye, Matt Murdock.” You shout behind him before the front door shuts. 

Eyes fixed on him, you watch as he crosses the road. 

Still there was something strange about him and you didn’t know what. 

[error04landonotfound]

So, I told myself during the race that I wouldn't rant about it post-race. And I wasn't going to!!

But then the interviews and the quotes came out. And then I really couldn't just sit with my thoughts. I'm gonna put a keep reading under here because I just know this post is about to be LONG.

Let me start by saying this: the intent of this post is NOT to hate on Oscar Piastri. The intent is to voice my frustrations with Andrea Stella, Zak Brown, and Will Joseph specifically.

When Lando was P1 last weekend, Oscar was told they were "free to race." The exception to that was, understandably, when they were trying to clear backmarkers. Aside from that, they were free to race each other. Oscar wasn't told to hold back at any other point and even made the argument that he was faster, which was understandable. Lando, on the other hand, was told repeatedly by Will Joseph that his tyre degradation was worse than everyone else's and that he shouldn't push too hard. Now, I don't have it saved, but the post-race graphic showing tyre degradation levels for all drivers had Lando as one of the drivers with the LOWEST amount of tyre deg. If that's the case, then why is his engineer telling him his tyres were bad, when Lando has historically been good at managing his tyres? It begs the question of what exactly Will Joseph was doing giving those messages.

Now we come to this weekend. Oscar qualifies P1 for the main race with Lando in P3 due to some crucial mistakes. Nobody is arguing that Piastri had a better Q3 than Lando. Lando himself said he made some mistakes, and that track seems pretty famous for punishing drivers who make mistakes. Lando also noted pretty much the entire weekend that the car was difficult to drive and that he was just going to have to make the best of it. So when Lando moves up to P2 within the first few corners of lap 1, there should be some excitement, right?? Some happiness that Lando is now P2 and a McLaren 1-2 is within reach, provided the pitwall/strategists play their cards right? That wasn't exactly the emotion conveyed through the NUMEROUS messages from Will Joseph. Instead, we had to listen as Lando was told not to push Oscar too hard; his race is with George, not Oscar; Lando your tyres look bad. Now, I'd like to note here that it was 2 in the morning for me, and my TV volume has to be SUPER LOW because my grandmother sleeps in the room next to me. But some of these were heard LOUD AND CLEAR. It became evident very early on that Lando was NOT free to race Oscar in the same way Oscar was free to race him last weekend.

Fast forward to the last 10-15 laps (tbh I can't fully remember when it was), when Will Joseph finally decides to tell Lando his car has a braking issue. Which, by the way, they withheld from him

A BRAKING ISSUE.

Now I don't know about y'all, but I'm pretty sure literally ANY OTHER DRIVER would be told their car has a braking issue. But for some reason, Lando wasn't told until the last stage of the race. Am I insane, or is that not seriously dangerous to withhold that information? Should a driver not be made aware that their car has an issue with BRAKING, let alone that it's already critical? That, to me, tells me that nobody on that pitwall cared if Lando finished that race. I could list more radio messages from WJ that were incredibly sus and counterproductive (um, the using up pace and pushing into Oscar's dirty air??), but I think I've ranted about that long enough

I cannot stress this enough: I do not hate Piastri. Do I wish he'd react similarly to Lando's wins how Lando reacts to his? Yeah. But I still don't hate on him. It wouldn't be very fair to yell and scream that Lando doesn't deserve the hate he's received (and still receives) and then turn around and hate on Oscar. When I say "hate" I don't mean criticism. I mean saying things like, "oh I hope someone runs him off" or "he should lose it into the first corner". Criticism is fine, but there's a fine line between it and hate, and we should be mindful of that.

Because that's all we want: fairness. I want Will Joseph to stop sounding like he's trying to sabotage his own driver. I don't always like Max and GP, but at least GP's radio messages to Max are encouraging!

I want Andrea Stella to show up to Lando's podiums, too, because he deserves to be praised just as much as Oscar (moreso, imho, because Lando has put in part of the work that's made the MCL competitive again!).

I want Zak Brown to NOT admit in interviews that he's thankful one of his drivers had a car issue that prevented him from challenging for the win!

Because let's be real: if this behavior was directed towards Oscar, there would be an uproar. But because it's Lando, it's acceptable. Nobody (except Lando fans) has any problem with how ZB, AS, and WJ are acting towards Lando, and it's frustrating. I just want Lando to receive the same treatment that Oscar receives. It doesn't have to be an either/or. Both can be treated well!

He's leading the damn drivers championship, for goodness sake. The least you could do is act like it.

Okay, I'm done (I think).

[sturnsblogs]

SOMETIME.

Nick Sturniolo X Tattoo!Artist!Mateo

—

Nick walked into the shop this morning, a sense of excitement buzzing in the air. He had been thinking about this tattoo for over a year, and today was finally the day. He saw Mateo working at the counter, and a smile stretched across his face. “Hii! How are you?” he called out.

Mateo looked up, his eyes softening when he saw Nick. There was a slight hesitance in his movements, but he smiled back shyly. “I’m doing good. How about you?” he asked, his voice warm but a little more reserved.

Nick took a few steps closer, casually leaning against the counter as he eyed Mateo’s setup. “Yeah, I’m doing great. Excited to finally get this party frog tattoo I’ve been thinking about forever.”

Mateo nodded as he motioned for Nick to settle into the chair. “A party frog?” he said, trying to mask his intrigue. He gently guided Nick to lay back, positioning him so he could start prepping the area where the tattoo would go. “You have a specific spot in mind?” he asked, trying to keep his voice professional, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity.

Nick nodded, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the spot he’d chosen. “Yeah, right here.” He rested his arm on the table, exposing the area. His tone was light and playful, “I know it sounds stupid, but I’ve wanted it for so long. I do YouTube with my brothers, and we were doing a spin the wheel challenge for tattoos. Nobody picked the party frog, so I thought, why not?”

Mateo couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the story. He leaned in closer as he began shaving the area, his fingers grazing Nick’s skin a little longer than necessary. The touch felt deliberate, yet casual, as though his hands were searching for an excuse to linger. Mateo’s breath caught slightly, but he quickly masked it with a calm expression. “That’s a pretty fun idea. I like that you’re just going for it.”

Nick smiled, clearly at ease, his eyes catching Mateo’s for a split second. “Yeah, it’s definitely one for the books.” He watched Mateo’s hands, admiring how carefully he worked, even as his fingertips brushed against his skin. The shaver buzzed lightly as Mateo worked, the sound mingling with the faint scent of the shaving cream. Mateo’s hands hovered just a bit longer than needed, brushing over Nick’s arm as if trying to calibrate the right amount of pressure. There was something about the closeness between them now, the way Mateo’s fingers gently moved over Nick’s arm that felt almost intimate. Nick didn’t pull away, the small electric thrill from the connection running through him in a way he didn’t expect.

“Your brothers must think it’s hilarious, huh?” Mateo asked, his voice lower now, a little quieter as his hands moved back up to Nick’s shoulder, brushing against the fabric of his shirt as he shifted to make sure the area was clean.

“Yeah, they definitely thought it was weird at first. But hey, it’s just a tattoo, right?” Nick replied, glancing up at Mateo, catching him looking at him for just a moment longer than usual before he quickly focused on setting the needle.

Mateo smiled, but there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes, like he was debating something. “Sounds like a good time. You guys must have a lot of free time between filming, right?” His hand lingered on Nick’s arm again, the pressure of his touch soft but just a little more intentional now.

“Yeah, we’ve got some downtime between shoots, mostly just hanging out,” Nick replied, looking up at Mateo, noticing the way his gaze had softened. Mateo’s fingers were so close to his skin, and it made the tension between them feel even more palpable.

“That’s cool,” Mateo said, shifting a little closer as he began tracing the outline of where the tattoo would go. There was a momentary pause before he added, his voice a little more casual, “I mean, you know… if you’re ever bored sometime, maybe we could hang out. I don’t know, grab a coffee or something.” His tone was light, but there was an undeniable edge of uncertainty, as if he was testing the waters.

Nick blinked, a little taken aback by the suggestion. His mind briefly raced, trying to figure out if Mateo was just being friendly or if there was something else behind it. He smiled, trying to keep it casual, even though his pulse was quickening. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I mean, we could do that.” He shrugged, trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal, though part of him wondered if there was more to the invitation.

Mateo’s smile softened, the tension between them only growing as he adjusted his stance and continued working on the tattoo. His hand brushed over Nick’s arm again, but this time, the touch felt even more deliberate, like he was subtly making sure the contact lingered. “Alright,” Mateo said with a slight chuckle, his voice warm but still a little shy. “Just thought I’d throw it out there. No pressure.”

Nick caught Mateo’s eye again, the unspoken chemistry simmering between them. “No pressure,” he echoed, though there was something in his gaze that told Mateo he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

As Mateo finally began the first line of the tattoo, he kept his focus on the task at hand, but there was a new, unspoken sense of closeness between them. Mateo’s hand brushed against Nick’s arm once more, lingering longer than needed, and both of them knew, without saying a word, that this wasn’t just about the tattoo anymore.

—

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

[shewrites444]

prequel to.. pretty [ art donaldson x babysitter/age gap! reader smut ]

[ PRETTY linked here. While I wrote that fic first, I decided to write a bit of a background story rather than a part two, but I'm open to a part two as well if you guys want one. This isn't my favorite story of mine but I haven't written in forever with school/work, so I wanted to put something out for once. Let me know what other Art content you guys would like, too! ]

WC - 2.7k [ Also an unedited story, so I apologize for any errors! ]

[ Summary - Before the current routine of your affair with Art, there was the beginning. When you first started babysitting for the Donaldsons, what provoked your current situation? ]

[ Warnings - age gap (reader is college-aged, Art is in his like mid-thirties), cursing, cheating/affair, dirty talk, unprotected sex ]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You never planned on getting into their mess, obviously.

There was a code red to anything Art-related for the first few weeks of babysitting, given that Tashi seemed to be under something far worse than a sliver of thin-ice after her affair was on full blast from last year's challenger against Patrick Zweig. She stopped talking to Patrick, from what you knew by eavesdropping some nights, and now her and Art were trying to work it out for not only their daughter and the amount of shared finances they had, but their relationship itself. You could tell they cared about each other, but you could also tell they were falling apart simultaneously.

It was bluntly obvious they should've filed for divorce from the start, but maybe that was your delusions about Art talking. You thought he was attractive, despite your usual type being men closer to your age, but you'd never make a move, fuck no. The last person you'd want to hate you would be Tashi.

Would you reject Art's advances, if he made a move on you? No. But he never would. You're the babysitter, and you're nearly half his age. He's trying to save his marriage, too, so he'd never make a move on you.

You had a good bit of fantasies tainting your mind, and you tried to push them behind you. You were better than this. Why the fuck would you even think about having an affair? Even going so far to get turned on by it anytime you were at their house? Fucking Art in the car when he walked you out, on the couch when Tashi went upstairs, bent over the kitchen counter after you gave him a glass of water after practice one late night..

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You black out all those thoughts when the front door swings open, your eyes shooting across the room to see Art and Tashi step inside, both dress formally after returning back from a fundraiser for their foundation that wasn't doing as well as it could be after.. well, the affair.

"Hi." You say quietly, giving them both a short, tired smile. It was nearly midnight, despite the both of them assuring you they'd be back before 10. "Lily has been asleep for a few hours now. How was the fundraiser?"

Tashi nods, closing the door behind her and handing the keys to Art after. "It went well, we had a good turnout." She glances to Art. "Can you write her a check and walk her out? I need to get to bed as soon as possible for that meeting I have tomorrow morning."

Art hums softly, nodding as he walked into the kitchen to set the house keys down in a small decorative bowl on the island. You watch Tashi walk upstairs and hear the door shut, your stomach dropping as you're once again alone with Art.

You stand up, clearing your throat as you walk into the kitchen behind him. You slip on your shoes, hearing him open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. He gestures you one, when you shake your head politely and mutter a small "No, thank you."

Art sighs, half-smiling to you before he cracks the bottle open and takes a sip. "Sorry if Tashi seems short. The fundraiser went well, but she's still pretty stressed. Booking all these meetings with different coaches and players to get support, but I think that she can sound a bit desperate sometimes, honestly.." He chuckles under his breath.

You were surprised he spoke of her that way to you. You knew apart of him had to resent her for the affair, especially for how long it had been doing on, and who it was with, but you didn't think he'd be vocal about any of his frustrations. Maybe he figured you had no one to tell. Maybe he just needed to vent, god knows how long he'd been bottling this all up.

"I get it." You shrug, crossing your arms as you lean a bit more comfortably against the marble island. "I'm sure it is tough for her to see the business not doing as well, but she'll figure it out." You tried to be as neutral as you could.

Art nodded, sighing as he set the bottle down. He reached for the check book in the middle of the counter, flipping a few pages down and clicking the pen connected to it to write you a check, as always.

"Yeah, you're right." He muttered, giving you a short glance before averting his attention back to the check. He signed it, tore it, and handed it to you.

You take it from him, your fingertips lightly brushing against his own, sending a soft, but visible chill down your spine. You look up to him, and you fold the check in half before putting it into the pocket of your sweat pants. "Yeah.. Well, uhm, thank you, as always."

He nods, tucking his hands into his pants before gesturing you to the door. "Of course. C'mon, I'll walk you out."

You turn around, walking towards the door as you felt his presence behind you. You could hear him grab the keys again, jingling in his hand while he followed you. You reach down, unlocking the door before walking outside, following their large sidewalk to your car, which was parked towards the end.

You hear something lightly hit the concrete, realizing your check slipped out of your pocket. You sigh, turning around to grab it, which Art was already doing, your hands following close-by as your both grab the piece of paper.

"Shit- Sorry." You blush, looking up to Art as his gaze follows yours. He hands you the check, that same tint on his face, but far easier to see with how pale his complexion is.

"It's fine." He smiles, handing it to you and watching your stuff it back into your pocket, a bit more focused this time around.

You smile softly, unlocking your car before opening the back door to toss your jacket into the back seat. "Well, uhm, I guess just let me know if you guys need me anytime soon again."

"Will do." Art nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches you lean down. He feels the same way that you do, with how wrong the attraction is, but it's not like he can deny it. It's been building up for weeks.

He couldn't dictate the feelings, and he hated it. He cared for Tashi, but his sexual desires for her were dissipating the more he saw you and thought of you in such a way. He wanted you in that way, not her. But did he only want you because you weren't her? Because you were new to him, the first woman he had close proximity with since he even met Tashi?

"Can I ask you something?" Art asks, wincing to himself as he knew he was loosening the thread.

You nod, standing up and leaning against the open door. "Yeah, of course."

Art sighs, looking down to meet your eyes. He could tell you were nervous, and he was almost positive you could tell the same feeling was in him.

"Are.. Are you attracted to me?"

Your breath hitched. What the fuck? He brought it up to you?

You awkwardly laugh, looking down at your feet, feeling your face heat up within seconds at the affect of his words.

"I don't want to lose this job."

"You aren't."

"Then.. Then yeah, I am.. But.. But I'm not wanting to cause issues and I don't think it's right.. And I-"

He interrupts you, quite abruptly and a bit awkwardly, but even if this fantasy ever came true, you knew it wouldn’t play out the way it did in your mind. Art was quiet, despite how loud his career was, and you knew he wasn’t the most dominant man out there, based on his demeanor, and who he was married to. But, you also knew you’d never make the first move on him, given your roles in this scenario. 

“It’s not right.” He steps closer to you, blocking you into the crease of your car door and car itself. “I know that.” 

He watches you exhale, and takes note of your heightened nerves. He wants you to be calm. The last thing he wanted you to feel was discomfort. He reaches forward to take your hand into his, lightly. He purses his lips, glancing down to your own. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, [ Y/N ], but I have to be honest with you, I want to be honest with you.. I don’t know where this stems from.. Maybe just from what’s going on in my marriage.. Or maybe that I feel lonely.. But I promise you, at the same time, it feels deeper than-”

“I understand.” You interrupt him now, and you let go of his hand, shaking your head. “And I get what you mean, and I know you’re dealing with a lot, and I don’t want you to have to deal with more..” You look down. “I don’t want to cause issues, Art. I really don’t want to fuck up what you’re trying to fix with Tashi.”

“I don’t care.” He answers, now inching closer to you. “I don’t care about that at all right now.” He reaches down to cup both your cheeks, and he leans closer, his lips closer to your own. “If you give me the say-so, I’ll kiss you right now, [ Y/N ].”

“Okay.” You nod quickly, closing your eyes before his lips even touch yours. And when they do, oh god, does it feel good.. Almost feels right.. Maybe?

He moans into your mouth, finally having some part of you after weeks of longing, feeling your hands wrap around his neck, as he desperately kisses you.

You return the kisses, leaning down to guide him into the back seat of your car, which he follows. You weren’t thinking straight, and fuck, at this point, you never were, carrying out your fantasies of a married man like it was a normal thing to do.

“Are you sure?” He mutters into your mouth, hovering over you as he moves his head down to your neck to pepper it with kisses. 

You nod, but he doesn’t prefer to not get a raw answer. He leans up, breathing heavily. “I need you to say it. Tell me that you want this, and you will have it, okay?”

“Mhm..” You nod, your mouth open, watching him lean up. You can see the exhale of your chest out of the bottom of your eyes. “Yes.. Yes, I do.. I want you a lot.. I’m very sure..”

Art nods with the given assurance, leaning up as much as he can in your car, looking down to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, sliding down the silver zipper with slightly shaking, nervous hands. He’d been fucking the same woman for over a decade now, so obviously he was a nervous wreck, but he was trying to push that aside for you the best he could. 

“I want you.” You assure him again, hoping to decimate his nerves. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for weeks now."

He chuckles nervously, but you can feel him loosening up as he looks over to you, sliding down his pants to his knees before moving his hands to your sweatpants, helping you wiggle out of them, along with your underwear. You feel your warmth hit the cold air of the night, and you gasp softly to yourself, knowing he was looking right at you.

"You're beautiful." He compliments you, giving you a gentle look. "I would've melted at the sight of you if I met you in college."

"You're not melting now?" You tease, tilting your head with a cheeky grin. The more comfortable he got, the bolder you felt, and you could feel that same energy from him.

"I definitely am. I'm just saying, I would have then, too." He leans down to pull off his boxers, his cock springing free from any prior restraint, making your eyes go wide at the sight you'd been thinking about for so long.

He adjusted himself, pointing the tip at the entrance of your visibly wet entrance, before slowly moving forward, guiding himself into your cunt. You gasp, but you keep in mind where you are, and keep any noises you make quiet.

He felt good, better than you could have ever imagined, even with your exaggerations of what sex with Art Donaldson would be like. You both moaned at the feeling of him fully inside you, as he slowly began to move on top of you the best he could in the limited space.

You lean up to hold him, your hands both planted on his back over the white dress shirt, your lips finding his neck and softly pressing kisses against him as he thrusted. You could feel him grunt above you, moaning into your ear while you licked and sucked and kissed against his soft flesh.

"You.. You feel incredible.." He muttered to you, the sounds of his cock mixing with the wetness of your pussy filling the car. "I could fuck you over and over.."

"Yeah?" You return, breaking apart your kisses. "Gonna fuck me the next time I come here?"

"Fuck yes.." Art nods, almost to himself, as he picks up his pace. "I'll fuck you wherever you want me to, I don't fucking care.."

Wherever you want? You could fuck him whenever you wanted, wherever you wanted? This was far too good to be true.

"I... I want you to fuck me against your kitchen counter.. Or in your fucking bed.. I don't even care, Art, I just wanna fuck you.." You want to curse at yourself for how you're speaking to him, how desperate you sound.. But at the same time, he's clearly just as desperate for you.

Art gasps at your words, his stomach in quite the knot, as he shakes his head rapidly. "If you keep talking like that, I'm going to-"

"You can do it." You encourage him, as if there couldn't be a consequence. "I'm on birth control."

He blinks, before nodding, his mind not even thinking anything of it, before closing his eyes and leaning down to kiss you, his hips slamming into yours, the sound of your sex filling the car and the cold air, as you both moan into each other's mouths before soon enough, he finishes inside you.

He gasps, breathing heavily into your mouth before pulling away, looking down at you as he slowly slides out of you. You both look at each other for a moment, taking in what you both just did, before you begin to get dressed, knowing you were on a time constraint.

You fucked him. A married man who was also your employer.. and also.. a very high-profile person in not only the sports world, but social media itself. You.. did a lot of things that you shouldn't have, but oddly, you didn't regret any of it. By the looks of it, neither did he.

He buckles his belt, fixing his hair quickly before sliding out of your car, taking your hand and helping you up and out of the seat. You try to keep your composure, catching your breath as you shut the door behind you.

Art stand there, looking down at you, moving his hands to his pockets. You can see the bedroom light turning on behind him, and you gulp, looking to him.

"I think she's out the shower."

Art nods, turning to see the lights on, too, before looking back to you. "Yeah, I think so.."

He clears his throat, stepping forward and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll see you next time?"

"Mhm." You nod, giving him an awkward wave as he steps away, and starts to walk towards the front door. "Yeah, next time."

He nods, before he turns around and makes his way back to the front door, shooting you one last glance before shutting it. You stand there for a second, watching the lights turn off in the kitchen before walking to the drivers seat of your car.

You sit down, shut the door, and look behind you into your back seat, the jacket on the floor, along with the sliver of white paper that was partial to credit what just happened minutes before.

You reach over the center console, grabbing the folded check from the floor, and set it on your passenger seat.

What the fuck did any of this mean now?

[dragon-susceptible]

.

what if it's just empty above the cut, but there is a line there?

The only afab earthblood we have named is Terry, who has already magically transitioned so it really doesn't tell us anything about what other afab Earthblood would look like! I think there's probably a handful in some collective background shots? But I'd have to comb through them to find them. Surely they exist somewhere though?

Even Karim stood as tall as Amaya, he was 5'10", that's on the taller side for humans and he's relatively short for a Sunfire elf lmao. Fuck knows he had an ego the size of a Startouch though.

Of course it didn't work on Viren. Viren has no soul. Anyone who's capable of being that cruel to Soren clearly is beyond hope.

Yk I just watched the second episode of Season 3 and Rayla even says the other elves will help them get Zym to his mother faster. There might actually be something to this idea that mounts connected to the Moon arcanum can just bend reality to move faster.

Oh yeah Andromeda actually had a fairly normal childhood too, though her dad died when she was a teenager, on a mission (he was also an assassin). She's probably also looking at them all like "you are all So Fucked Up." except her life was So normal/well-adjusted that her family didn't need as many conflict resolution classes as Ram's.

Mercy is for those who can survive the consequences. Runaan talks about this a little in that chapter I wrote of that fic I may never get around to finishing, where he confronts Hendyr (the Skywing dragonguard) about Tiadrin and Lain's loss. The Moonshadow elves have been through not one, not two, but three genocides in their racial history, and are trapped literally on the border between the human kingdoms (responsible for the first one) and the Sunfire Kingdom (responsible for the third) on the home ground of the Bloodmoon Cult (responsible for the second). Sacrificing others' lives to save your own skin would have to be one of the worst crimes possible for a people who are probably endangered, and in such a precarious position. If your cultural priority is the survival of the many, you cannot tolerate people who throw away the many for themselves. And Ghosting makes a horrifying amount of sense with that background too - abandoning your people when they need everyone so badly means that you're abandoned right back, you no longer get even the barest support from them.

Yeah that's kind of what I mean. Like the Crownguard are explicitly meant to be a mostly uniform, restrictive military force. Soren's an exception because he has rank on most of them. Joining up with that instead of remaining a tracker/hunter in Ezran's service (which could have put him just as close to the action) is what stripped Corvus' character a bit, because now he has to fit in with this military force, which takes away the independence that made him so unique earlier on.

Yeeeahhh, Ram might end up saying some . . . unwise things to the Dragon Queen's face, honestly. Someone's going to need to either clap a hand over his mouth or defend him.

That's the thing that bothers me the most about Tiadrin and Lain, honestly. Rayla is 15. She moved in with Runaan and Ethari when she was 8. She's spent almost half her life with them, and over half of what she likely consciously remembers. She exchanged letters with Tiadrin and Lain very regularly growing up. So what was going on with them and Runaan that he got so fucked up over feeling like Rayla was his daughter but never saying it? What kind of communication was happening between them? Were they just asking him to be patient because they were grateful, they were going to come home but they knew he was taking good care of her? Did the dragons just never tell them when the egg was going to hatch after all, so they really genuinely thought they could be returning home at any day? Did it haunt them knowing they were missing so much?

If we're going to take it back there, and justify Aaravos deciding to turn against and destroy everything Leola ever loved and cared about in some twisted form of "revenge" against the stars that he explicitly knows Do Not Care about what happens with the mortals, then I think the fault lies with the Star Council or whatever they called it. But like, I do wanna point out, Leola gave the world Primal magic. Like that was the point of that. The council killed her, which is absolutely horrifying. Aaravos' immediate reaction, weeping for thousands of years, raging against the system, is 100% reasonable I'm with him on that. The fact that he then turned around and attacked the mortal world, which she loved, took the gift she gave it and twisted it, killed things to make it worse, poisoned the love she had for them, went so far as to have another child just to sacrifice them himself, threw away a chance to bring Leola back (the Quasar diamond and the Moon Nexus) to restore his own body and kill Sol Regem, and then in the end he wins, he lets his body be destroyed by these mortals to take out the archdragons that actually have a hope of stopping him, fully planning to be back in seven years to continue his reign of terror, all the while fully aware that everything he's doing doesn't do anything to disrupt the system that actually harmed Leola? I've lost all sympathy for him now. Leola would be horrified by what he's doing in her name. And that's the whole crux of it, isn't it? She died, and he abandoned her ideals, went dark, and she'd be horrified by where he's gone. That's why he and Claudia fit. Her father died, she clutched tighter to the ideals he taught her, and continued down this dark path because she and Aaravos both believe in destruction and vengeance more than actually building a future their families would be happy in.

I think the princes already see most of the elves as friends, but family might take a little longer, especially for Callum.

space above the cut also doesn't work. But! I bet just typing a single letter and changing the font color to match the background would work, except that tumblr has a bunch of different theme colors lmao.

Different Path Taken Ch19 P1: Runaan and Skor's Discussion

I'm not as happy with this section as I have been with some of the other tough ones, and I haven't quite isolated what the problem is. It might end up going through some bigger edits? I don't know, I kinda wanna just be done with it, since while it feels clumsy, it did go over what I wanted it to do.

Skor wasn’t far away when Runaan found him.  He didn’t even need to track prints through the snow, as the other swordsman was sitting on an outcropping of rock within sight of the cave entrance, eyes fixed on the human village below.  Runaan made sure to crunch a bit of snow on his approach, and saw Skor glance at him, so he wasn’t startled when Runaan sat down on the rock beside him. 

“How stable are you?” Runaan asked softly, without looking directly at him, just looking out of the corner of his eye.

Skor sighed through his nose. “He’s coming with us, isn’t he.”

“I asked first.”

“That’s a yes.” Skor rubbed his forehead tiredly, and when Runaan looked a little closer, he winced internally at the exhausted lines around his eyes and the tight pupils.  He wasn’t panicked anymore, but this was taking a toll on him. 

Runaan sighed, not bothering to contradict him, and cast his own eyes down to the village.  He spared a moment to hope Rayla - and those he had sent with her - were doing well, and the humans had found some help for the egg. “It seems the most viable option going forward.”

“We can’t trust him.” Skor growled. “You know better than anyone, Runaan.  Humans can’t be trusted and that one works for her.”

Runaan tilted his head at him. “And what makes the princes so different?”

Skor pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “Nothin’.  Small children don’t have higher morals, they have needs and people who fill them, and human children grow up slower than ours in that way.  Right now, that’s us, so of course Ezran wants to help.  It might even work for a few years.  But once he goes home, is surrounded by adults that hate us the way they do for enough years?  I doubt it will last.  Callum is old enough t’ have his own values, but he won’t be the one on the throne that could actually harm us.”

Runaan frowned a bit and looked back down to the village, where he had sent them, entrusting the future of the world to the boys Skor now spoke of with such skepticism. “I don’t think either of them are young enough to be in that state of mind,” He said carefully. “While it’s true that human children mature . . . slower, Ezran should be around the same mindset as Rayla was when I took her in.  She was more than capable of this kind of planning and reason - as you well know.”

Skor shook his head. “Does it matter?  We’ll do this, and it’ll be a reprieve for a few years, if it works.  It’ll save our home from Zubeia, at least.  I don’t doubt their intentions now.  I just . . . don’t trust them to keep them.  Especially back in Katolis once it’s over, with her counsel.”

“Perhaps,” Runaan conceded, reluctantly, after a moment. “But while she is vicious to us, she is a general in a war.  We have never been given a reason to believe she would turn on her own people, and these are her own nephews.  I do not believe she would give Corvus orders that would lead to their harm.”

“Like your friends would never have abandoned their posts or their daughter?” Skor asked, and the words struck Runaan so close to the heart that he couldn’t even process the tone that they came with.  He flinched involuntarily.

He didn’t grit his teeth, but it was a near thing, and he groaned softly into his hands as he rubbed the stress lines from his own face. “That was different.”

“Yes, it was,” Skor growled. “We knew them better than we know her.  What makes ye think we can trust her more than we trusted them?”

Runaan growled right back at him. “I am not saying we should trust him, and certainly not her.  Even if she would turn on her nephews, the tracker may not be willing to harm them.  He knows he can’t fight us.  We keep him with us, keep him close, to keep an eye on him.  If he stays true to his word, he may be an asset.”

“And when he doesn’t?”

“We put him to sleep, and drop him as far off our trail as we can, and leave.” Runaan said, meeting his burning golden eyes again. “If he continues to chase after that, you and Ram may deal with him as viciously as you choose.”

Skor held his gaze for a long minute, searching, before finally giving a huff and looking back down at the village, his shoulders dropping in concession.

Runaan kept looking at his profile, and sighed again, softly.  He placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Skor leaned away from it for a moment before settling, pushing back against the weight of it instead. “I know how difficult this is.” He said. “Believe me, I understand what I am asking of you.”

Skor shook his head. “It’s what’s best for the mission.” He replied, voice brittle. “What it does to us is secondary.” He looked over at Runaan through his hair and acknowledged, softer, “I lost my voice, but you lost four lives to her.  That’s far worse.”

Closing his eyes at the memory of the elves he had been forced to abandon inside the caves, Runaan took a deep, even breath, and shook his head. “I will not quantify suffering.” He said after a moment. “You lost a life, too, in a way.  The life you should have had.”

The thought hung in the air between them for a moment, both well aware that if things had turned out differently - if Skor had not lost his voice, and his pride had not been killed under Runaan’s command - he would likely have retired several years ago.  He would not be in Katolis at all.

“I’ve made my peace with that.” Skor said softly. “Have you?”

Runaan blinked at him. “Have I made my peace with what?”

Skor glanced at him through his hair. “Losin’ the life you should have had.”

“What are you . . .” the question died in Runaan’s throat as Skor tilted his head towards the village below, the implication from before pressing in like blades around his ears.  He laid them back a little defensively.

“You set all your plans aside for two elves who’ve gone on t’ betray you.” Skor pointed out softly. 

Runaan rubbed the marks across his nose, closing his eyes against the darkness pressing in from his sides. “You know as well as I do the Dragonguard had no choice in leaving,” He said slowly. “What was I supposed to do?  I had been a part of Rayla’s life since she was born.  Was I to leave her with someone else?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Skor said, tilting his head to look at Runaan around the hair that fell over his face. “That was seven years ago, an’ she’s only fifteen.  They didn’t have a choice about leavin’?  They left t’ protect her?  They threw her life away along with the rest of us when they ran.  Saved their own skins instead.”

“Skor-”

“We’ve all a right t’ be angry with them for that,” Skor pressed. “But even before that, Rayla’s only fifteen.  She’ll remember more of her life with you than with them.  She’s practically grown, and they did what, sent letters?  That’s not parenting, and you know it.  They dropped that on you, an’ never let ye take the title ye deserve for the responsibility ye took, too selfish to let her have a family they weren’t a part of.”

Runaan flinched, hand dropping from Skor’s shoulder and covering his own face as he grimaced. “That doesn’t - Skor, I can’t deal with this right now,” He said desperately. “She is their daughter, she is the one who suffers the most from what they’ve done.  Her feelings on the matter come first.”

“That’s my point.” Skor shifted his weight onto his opposite hip to turn a little more towards Runaan, arching his brows pointedly. “You’re the only adult in her life that always puts her first, except Ethari, and honestly, my friend, I’m not as sure as you are that he’d choose her over you.”

He would.  Runaan was more than confident of that.  He grimaced at the very thought of making him choose, though, and shook his head.

“I’m not sayin’ ye should talk to Rayla about it.” Skor said. “It’s not her job tae take care of you.  But I knew them, too.  Ye do have other friends, not all of us willin’ to fuck you over for seven years and end it with a stab in the back.”

Runaan flinched again and snapped. “Alright, yes, I am angry!  I am confused, and frustrated.  I do not understand what changed, I trusted - I loved them as my brother and sister, and I can’t - I don’t understand why they would betray us like this.  But I cannot deal with this right now.  I must do what I can to minimize the damage from what they’ve done, to Rayla and to our people’s reputation in the eyes of the dragons.”

“You’ve been cleanin’ up after those two your whole life.” Skor observed softly.

Runaan grimaced. “That will no longer be an issue after this, will it?” He said bitterly, and then narrowed his eyes at Skor. “And you are deflecting.”

Skor wrinkled his nose at him and lifted his lip to show one chipped fang in halfhearted spite. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Runaan showed his own fangs right back, heart aching at the memory of when that fang had been chipped, but appeased when Skor’s mouth closed again under his show of dominance. “I will not force you,” He said anyway, a little wry after Skor had done exactly that to him. “But know that I am here if you need it.  I know, better than anyone, why this is difficult for you, and I share your concerns.”

“It’s what’s best for the mission.” Skor repeated reluctantly, and groaned softly as he leaned back on his hands, raising his face to the sun’s heat and closing his eyes against its light. “Runaan, if he says anythin’ else about that woman’s honor -”

“I will not restrict his right to speak,” Runaan said, but shrugged when Skor scowled. “But I will not restrict yours, either.  If he offends you, respond as you wish, just - verbally.  We don’t resort to violence until he does.”

Skor’s eyes remained shut but he nodded slowly. “Fine.”

He would not have returned to the field, and Runaan would not have allowed him to stay there, if he weren’t capable of stabilizing even under circumstances that brought up plagues from his past.  Runaan accepted this answer and looked back down to the village below.  He took note of a small group of people - four - one smaller than the other three - leaving the well-trodden path towards where he and Skor sat up on the slope. “The children are returning.”

“Then we should do the same.” Skor said, sounding far calmer than he had when Runaan first approached him, at least, and nodded with eyes open when Runaan looked at him again.  They both stood up and dusted the bits of snow off of themselves, and took a few breaths to clear their minds after the discussion they’d had.  Skor returned to the cave, ducking inside with only a glance at Runaan.  Runaan remained by the entrance, waiting for the children to return.

For all they weren’t all his children, he couldn’t help his growing concern for the human boys, and he had known Ram since he was quite young as well.  They were all his responsibility.

He shoved Skor’s words from earlier out of his mind.  Rayla’s needs came first.  He knew what he had to do about his friends’ betrayal, and processing his reaction to it could come later, when he had less on his plate and could justify devoting precious energy to doing so.

[notnights]

Once saw a post from someone whining about when Ragatha isn’t drawn with curves and it disappointingly had a lot of traction and fans agreeing and every now and then I think about it and am like What

It’s ok to let a female character be flat. It’s ok to like a female character with a flat ass even lol.

People will complain about non-diverse body types when it comes to female characters but then turn around and do shit like that with her when given non-conventional designs.

Pomni’s shoulders are wider than her hips. Ragatha is as flat as a board. Gangle. It’s okay to still like them like this god.

Let female characters be cartoony. Let them be proportionally funny.

[moth-flowers]

moth-flowers #21

[transgaysex]

laying down feels fucking sexual after moving heavy shit around for 5 hours in a row

[bitterfucked]

in the first town i was hosting shows in a noise complaint ticket was $2000; minimum wage was $9 at the time and you got one month to pay the ticket. even if everyone in the punk house had been working full time, we literally would not have been able to afford both the ticket and rent between all of us. we paid it by putting on more shows (hey, concerned citizen? guess whst the direct result of calling the cops on us was?) but that only raised about half the money and was a significant community effort - it still fucked us financially for months.

if we didn't have musical scene there that was both willing to give financially and do a lot of unpaid organizing relatively quickly, it's likely the ticket would've gone to warrant, which would've probably resulted in criminal charges as it wasn't something we could afford without fundraising. that's permanent record shit. like, potential job denial for the rest of your life and potential current job loss, as the cops will generally stick you in jail for a bit when picking you up on warrant.

and those consequences don't even consider police brutality! like, the pigs only work as "mediators" because of their legitimized threat of violence and you just sent them to go deal with a drunken crowd. that's frankly fucking hopeful that it gets resolved peacefully. they are not effective mediators and it's completely disingenuine to pretend that they are.

i know for a non-zero percent of cop callers, permanently ruining someone's life and/or bringing physical harm to that person is an appropriate punishment for being kept up a bit late on a saturday night (go die in a hole if you think this btw), but for everyone else i'm begging you to understand that a permanent record and getting dragged out of your home and tossed in the drunk tank is the normal expected result of calling of the cops for a noise complaint. you cannot seriously consider doing this to another human being and imo it's even worse that you are doing this to a neighbour.

like brother if it even crosses your mind for a second to call the cops on ANYONE for ANY REASON you are not punk or progressive or whatever label you use to try and feel Cool and Moral. you are a poser and a threat to the vulnerable individuals in your life

[scorpiosbite]

the time actress!reader mentioned obx in her interview

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── while the obx cast were together in drew’s hotel room madelyn in her ever obsession of game of thrones brought up that you had mentioned how much you love obx in an interview. causing them to watch the interview together.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in 2023 during the filming of obx 4 and 3 weeks after the first time they watched the show together. at this point of my timeline the cast have watched the entire first season of game of thrones.

drew was scrolling through his phone, you had followed him back on instagram a week ago and he was on the moon. though he hadn’t messaged you yet. unsure on what to say to you. drew prided himself on being a confident man yet, your ability to make him nervous through a screen was unprecedented.

while stalking your profile for the umpteenth time he found himself wondering about you yet again. your limited amount of posts made you even more intriguing to him. he wondered what kind of person you are. what things made you tick, whether you would stare up at him with those siren eyes, whether you moaned or whimpered during sex, whether your face scrunched up and your mouth hung open as your chest heaved like it did in your sex scene that hasn’t left his brain since the moment he watched it.

just as he fell into a spiral of thoughts about you madelyn spoke up from her seat across the room, drawing the attention of everyone else, and drew was suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone in his room. “oh my fucking god! i forgot to tell you guys!” she was staring down at her phone. but drew was having trouble focusing on her, still consumed in his thoughts of you.

the others, however, had no problem driving their attention to her, so drew remained in his bubble staring at the most recent post on your profile, a vogue magazine cover from three months ago, of you, seated, legs spread on the iron throne with the sword dark sister held in your hands standing between your legs, the crown of aegon the conquerer tilted on your head, the lace thigh high socks with garters disappearing under the skirt of your tight mini dress and the bold red coating your lips enticing him further.

it wasn’t till he heard your name slip from madelyn’s lips, was his attention torn from the captivating sight on his screen. “wait, what you just say?” madelyn smirked “of course, only when i say y/n’s name, do you listen.” drew blushed lightly. but didn’t make the move to defend himself, after all they would be right, he had been distracted from the moment he saw you in all your glory stealing the screen.

“what i was saying that y/n mentioned obx in an interview, just pass me the remote, i’ll show you.” drew’s heart rate spiked, the thought of you having seen him in his element, doing his job, made him self conscious in a way that he wasn’t ready to admit. once madelyn had the video loaded on the screen, drew was once again struck by how effortlessly beautiful you are. dressed in simple black pants and an off-shoulder cream long sleeve top, brown boots disappearing under your pants and simple gold hoop earrings, your brunette hair loose and following in natural waves. drew looked at your empty neck and thought how good you would look if there was a necklace with his initial hanging there, branding you as his.

madelyn skipped through the video until the moment you were talking. the interviewer asked you and your cast-mate what shows you watch during your down time when filming, your voice rang through the silent room and drew was struck once again by how attractive your accent sounded, your british accent deep and sultry but more casual than the tone you use when playing visenya. “oh, well mimi and i love outer banks a lot, to the point where we quote it on set quite often. i think we’ve annoyed everyone.” you laughed and drew thought about how he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

your cast mate and best friend, mimi who plays arianne martell laughed and agreed and the interviewer who was surprised by your answer said that obx was one of her favourite shows too. your face immediately brightened as you watched her intently as she spoke about the show. what drew would give to have you look at him like that.

madelyn paused the video and drew knew that once everyone had left his room he was going to watch the entire video. “that’s so cool!” jd gasped. “i know right? that’s so crazy that she’s seen our show.” madison replied. but drew couldn’t bring himself to speak, he wondered what you thought of him after watching his performance. he wondered if you had the same all consuming thoughts he had about you, about him.

“i followed her when i first watched the show and she followed me back, but after seeing that clip a week ago i messaged her and we’ve been talking back and forth ever since, she’s so fucking cool, it’s insane. i think we’re friends now!” madelyn raved. “you’re friends with her?!.” drew was baffled, how was madelyn just bringing this up, she has known about his developing crush for weeks. “ah, now you want to chime in drew?” “yes, we’re friends and she’s gonna be in la when we get back so i told her she should come hang out with us, what you guys think?”

drew’s heart felt like it was going a mile a minute, he was gonna meet you. what the fuck.

thank you for all the love on the first part i’m so grateful. and for everyone who wants to be added to the tag list i’m figuring out how to do that so please be patient with me. also please send me asks about this au i would love to do like a drew starkey x actress!reader thoughts thing, but let me know what you thought of this part!

[jiminrings]

anything

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved.

alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.

[ angst, fluff, friends to Not Friends to lovers, pitiful amounts of Yearning And Pining, emotional constipation, second lead taehyung being unbearable And delicious somehow, jealousy, the harrowing argument of what it means to seek growth n seek comfort, VINDICATION!!!, redemption ]

notes: because i've decided that i will never become sick of writing lovers who are doomed but not really, here we are 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ to get the full experience, pls listen to the song that was the inspo behind this!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! 

Yoongi's only ever been with one woman his entire life.

Ever since he turned old enough to introduce someone to his parents without them mistaking it for puppy love, which in his case was at seventeen years old, Yoongi quickly realized that he doesn’t ever want to introduce anyone other than Haein.

Yoongi, at his fresh age of seventeen, made a pact to himself to never bring someone home again if it’s not Haein, because bothering a nineteen-year old you for your own house slippers to lend to his girlfriend (he didn’t want to spend his allowance buying a nice pair when he could just sacrifice his dignity by groveling at your feet for it) was too much of a hassle.

He didn’t like the fuss that came with forming crushes. Yoongi’s spent countless nights scrutinizing his first love’s actions during recess and microanalyzing her tone towards him from the morning earlier— he doesn’t want to go through any of that again. 

He doesn’t want the grown-up equivalent of it either, because all throughout high school and some bits of college wherein he and Haein were together and totally not broken up in a perpetual on-off cycle as usual, Yoongi thought that he was set for life with her.

Unlike you, he hasn’t had his share of multiple first kisses. Yoongi, not even once, stepped into a bar with wandering eyes and a hopeful perk to his tone. He hasn’t worried about making first impressions again, nor has he ever had to ask how many people came into the picture before him.

In Yoongi’s eyes, it’s only been Haein the entire time. There’s no before, during, and after her, even if the last phase in time is just something he hopes for and is not set into stone. 

It’s still Haein for him, the kind, starry-eyed girl that wore your house slippers when she stepped foot into his childhood home for the first time to meet his parents, and it’s been her ever since.

It’s still her, because she never knew that the slippers she wore was actually yours, which made it her one and only designated pair, so much so that she even took it with her when she moved in with Yoongi in their shared apartment.

It’s still her, because you’ve gone through multiple pairs ever since, and so did the boyfriends you took home to meet your family.

It’s still Haein, because Yoongi hasn’t moved on from her even if they broke up for good (or atleast that’s what you’ve heard in verbatim and what Yoongi refuses to confirm) a year ago.

"There's nothing wrong with being with someone new," you snort, your tone bordering on condescending to which Yoongi predicted correctly, simply because you’ve had this conversation a million times already. 

You told him that in your attempt to comfort him when Haein broke up with him back on the second semester of their first year in college, wherein he found himself wailing against your sheets at your dorm.

You told him that in your attempt to appease him when he broke up with her during their junior year, wherein he had to wipe at his tears furiously before fixing his tie because it was only hours before your graduation and both your parents downstairs are calling for a picture.

You tell it to him now too, in your attempt to convince both Yoongi and yourself, as he starfishes on your couch while reminiscing what could’ve been another anniversary (albeit choppy and not at all continuous) of the first time they held hands.

"Yes there is," he groans, his emotions maturing enough not to cry helplessly unlike the past breakups, but not enough to stop glomming onto you. “I don't want to talk about my favorite color again. I don't want to answer how many siblings I have. I don't want to be asked the extremely quirky question of whether I think pineapple belongs on pizza or not, again!"

"It's only normal to introduce yourself again and again until you find the right one for you!" you laugh, your self-built amusement keeping the entire situation light for you because if you don’t find a way to distract yourself from Yoongi holding onto Haein pathetically, just like how you do so with him, you’d be as devastated as him.

You’d be devastated too if you realize that there’s little to no chance of earning back the only person you’ve ever truly loved, if not more— except you’re not Yoongi, and he’s not Haein.

What you have to go through is more devastating because Yoongi’s never really been yours in the first place.

"But I want Haein to be right for me," he whines, his eyes sleepy from all the fatigue that comes with driving all the way to your place, just so he could be miserable around you and not apart from you. “Even if she's not, I want it to be her."

You’re quiet for awhile, and Yoongi doubts your silence because you’ve only ever chewed his ear off whenever he started moping about Haein. He’s noticed it ever since you were young; you’d never let a single second pass without overwhelming him with your words whenever he thought too deeply, too lowly about anything. You didn’t give him a break to even think when it comes to times like these, so Yoongi grows even more concerned when you give him a break.

He’s used to the noise that is you trying to distract him from everything that pains him.

"For the record, you already did those things twice in your life,” you murmur after some time, looking up from the glass of wine that Yoongi poured you and bought for your collection before he made the decision of crashing out over Haein in your living room.

"Oh my god, did I kiss someone while I was drunk? When you dragged me out for drinks last week? When-… when it was, uh, when it was the anniversary of me and her moving in and-…”

"No, you monogamous asshole," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You did it with Haein."

"What are you talking about?" Yoongi tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend what you’re saying.

You still look annoyed at him, as you’ve always done whenever he comes to you crying about her, but now, you look more subdued; like you’re a little more melancholic for god knows what reason (Yoongi knows it’s definitely not about him and Haein’s breakup), and a little less agitated at having to have this conversation for the nth time.

"I knew you first, Yoongi," you remind faintly, shoulders offering a weak shrug. "You had to do it all over again for Haein when she came into your life, but I don't see you complaining."

Yoongi hits pause on his agony to frown slightly, sitting up on your couch in order to nudge you with his shoulder. ”But that's different because I grew up knowing you. It's only natural for you to know me this way.”

The snort that leaves you borders on offensive, and Yoongi automatically narrows his eyes when he senses the hint of sarcasm in your smirk.

”You mean know you as intimately as your one and only girlfriend did? Maybe even more than Haein actually does know you?"

"If you put it that way it sounds weird, but yeah," Yoongi scoffs defensively, crossing his arms on his chest before looking up at the high ceilings of your apartment in surrender. “Aren't just close friends basically lovers without the formalities?"

Yoongi’s only ever been with one woman his entire life.

You figure it’s because of that so he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

You figure it’s because of Haein’s monopoly on his feelings and experiences that you convince yourself that Yoongi hasn’t been kicked around enough, to realize that what he’s saying is enough for you to assume a higher, closer place in his life.

You figure that Yoongi only knows love because of Haein and not love itself, enough for him to tell you that being close friends with him is the equivalent of loving him in that light, only without the coveted crown that comes with being his first and only love that Haein still possesses.

"You're right," you mutter, downing the rest of your wine and the assumption that Yoongi knows it’s him whom your hearts yearns for. "It does sound weird when you put it that way."

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s a manny. 

More specifically and less confusingly, Yoongi’s a male nanny and he enjoys the job.

When you graduated two years earlier than he did, all he talked about was how happy and envious he was for you over being born earlier than him. He told you that you were unfair (and so were your parents) by bringing you to the world earlier and not as the same time as him, even detailing how he wants to be just a day older than you instead of you being ahead by two full birthdays.

When you graduated two years earlier than him, proving just how lucky you were (even if Yoongi argues that it’s your sheer intellect and not something as silly as luck) by landing a coveted job, all Yoongi could talk about was how he wanted to follow in your footsteps.

He’s not in the place where you are now, and although neither of you are bitter about it, some part of Yoongi still thinks what could’ve been.

“I should’ve never brought it up,” you apologize sincerely, nudging him with your knee to get the point across because you didn’t really mean to throw him into a loop.

You’re sure that Taehyung, your colleague who’s one year your junior and knew both you and Yoongi from college, didn’t really mean to offend the latter either, or atleast that’s what you think. 

You only opened up about your brush-up with Taehyung in the elevator because it was your first time bumping into each other having worked in the same company for so long, and you thought (read: thought) that Yoongi would be amused about the interaction too.

You thought that Yoongi would be amused about your encounter with Taehyung because the third question he asks you (the first asking how you were doing and the second asking if you were single) ventures straight to Yoongi and what he was up to. 

You thought he’d be amused that Taehyung still remembers how the both of you were attached to the hip despite being apart in year levels, but with the way Yoongi scowls (even for just the briefest second), you knew that you hit a sore spot. 

“Nah. It’s okay,” Yoongi exhales, glossing over the random question of Taehyung asking if you were taken before willing himself to forget it completely, and moving onto the facet that you thought offended him. “It pays well, honestly. I didn’t think I would ever score a job like this.”

“Me neither,” you shrug lightly, being relieved when you see the playful roll of Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he whines, throwing his head back in faux annoyance, to which he may or may not attribute to Hwayoung’s (one of the children he looks after) tendencies.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Yoongs. It’s just that, well, I pictured that you’d be this hotshot data analyst, or I.T, or something equally as technical and now-…” you trail off, the smile in your face genuine. “You’re a hotshot nanny.”

“This wasn’t my dream. You knew that,” he snorts, asserting his point by once again bringing up your extensive knowledge about him. “But I was just strapped for cash this one time, and I was behind on rent and my stupid, complicated job at my old company didn’t pay on time– then you already knew about my neighbors being these newlyweds with twin babies and before I knew it, I was looking after them! I was making bank by staying up like I’ve always done, and I get an audience when I’m talking to myself!”

Yoongi doesn’t overestimate your familiarity for him, and neither does he overestimate your sincerity towards his decisions. You judge him, sure (you’ve never made your annoyance for his weakness for Haein and his affinity for their backwards-moving relationship a secret), but you’ve never actually discouraged him from anything.

You didn’t talk him out of getting back with Haein all those breakups ago.

You didn’t talk him out of applying for unrelated jobs outside of his degree.

You don’t talk Yoongi out of anything, even anyone, that’s capable of bringing him joy.

“You love what you’re doing and you’re earning a shit ton. You don’t have to be affected by what an old classmate is asking.”

“That old classmate is working in the same Fortune Global 500 company as you are,” he chuckles just a little bit bitterly, making you nudge his knee a little harder this time. “But still,” he deadpans. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it. I can consider this as practice anyway.”

“You’re… opening up a babysitting company…?”

“Stupid,” Yoongi snickers, squeezing your knee tightly before his hold disappears. “No! I mean practice before I have a family in the future!” he laughs, shaking his head at you as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world; as if his optimism for a future with Haein isn’t persistent. “I don’t know what’s Haein’s take on working if we ever do have children, but either way, it’s nice to know that I already have the basics mastered.”

Whenever you least expect it, even if you should know by now after spending so much of your life with Yoongi, he reminds you of your place.

“You and Haein aren’t even together now,” you mutter, keeping your gaze low.

“Can you shut up?” Yoongi groans, slouching in his seat. “I’m not saying we’re gonna have a family now. I’m saying maybe we’ll have one in the future.”

“But you’ve been broken up for years.”

“Again, Y/N,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, the playfulness between the two of you slowly but surely dissipating. “I need you to be quiet.”

( ♡ ) 

Your parents like throwing thanksgiving parties for you and your siblings.

It’s quite literally the joint event for all seasons because your parents don’t even dare to set out cake for anyone outside of your family to eat when the holidays come, promising to make the party they excessively fuss about to be an umbrella for the rest that they miss throughout the year.

It’s an event that none of you really asked for but your parents insist on anyway; mostly to celebrate their accomplished children, and just a tiny bit more to brag about the lives they’ve managed to cultivate.

Yoongi, like for every other thanksgiving party that your parents have thrown, shows up in his most prized suit. It’s his most expensive and cleanest one to date, and it’s a suit that he reserves only for your parents’ shenanigans; not for a relative’s wedding, and not for a rich friend’s event either — he wears it just for you.

“I’d hate to be your unemployed cousin during this time of the year,” he jokes, being unable to look around the room without locking eyes with atleast one of your relatives or mutual friends and waving at them, yet Yoongi’s not really peeved about it at all.

“Yeah, that side of the family hates us,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening when you realize that you have nothing to be anxious about, especially when you’re just across the person who knows you the most.

You have your fun in these thanksgiving parties, and Yoongi has his own. Your definition of fun means owning up to your achievements and not attributing them to luck, poking fun at your siblings behind their backs, and maybe striking up a conversation or two with a family friend that you forgot was more handsome than you thought he’d be.

Yoongi’s fun on the other hand, only ever revolved around you and Haein when it comes to these parties. Now that the latter wasn’t invited this year and he’s not capable of trailing after her like a puppy, feeling like an outcast amongst a sea of accomplished individuals, Yoongi can now trail after you, feeling like he belongs.

“Look at my parents. They keep boasting about you so much, you’d think they gave birth to you,” he nods his head to them, talking your aunt’s ear off as they keep gesturing to you, grinning when you catch their gaze.

“I don’t look at you as a brother. Gross!” your nose scrunches, making Yoongi roll his eyes and subsequently kick you lightly in the shin.

The two of you, thankfully, are okay. The awkward conversation that transpired about Taehyung’s curiosity and Yoongi’s own insistence of a future with Haein seems to never have sprung up in the first place.

You’ve known each other for a lifetime; it only felt appropriate, nevermind unhealthy, to let familiarity take its toll to make the two of you complacent enough to not apologize to each other and still be okay by the next day.

“My parents didn’t graduate college, but you knew that already,” Yoongi talks, gaze still holding out to his parents from a distance like it’s a stare he can’t break off because his eyes feel too comfortable. “They found a lot of things– a lot of people annoying because they made them feel inferior, but we never felt that way with your family, y’know?”

You’re not one to deny the distance between you and Yoongi; everything from your age difference, to how your childhood house overlooked his, and even to the feelings you share and don’t share, there’s an imbalance the two of you would never be able to tip.

“Your parents are genuine, close friends with my own, and your family never pitied ours,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in gratitude as he does so.

“I know that,” you return the sincerity, eyes set on his while his gaze is directed elsewhere. “But where’s all this coming from?”

“I see the way you look at me,” Yoongi shrugs, the second that it takes him to turn his attention to you making you falter.

You don’t know if you’re more scared or relieved at the possibility of Yoongi knowing about your feelings.

“And how do I look at you?” you test the waters, tilting at your head to try and closely gauge the tiny smile on his lips, but you come up empty.

“I can’t tell exactly, but you always look at me with some sort of guilt.”

“Why would I look at you with guilt?” a breathless laugh escapes you, the ease plastered on his face making you more and more pressured.

“I don’t know either! You tell me,” Yoongi laughs brightly, slinging an arm across your shoulder to which no one bats an eye to, because although they don’t know the two of you as well as you know each other, they have a semblance of it.

They know how you and Yoongi are friends; how you and Yoongi are close friends who are basically lovers without the formalities.

“We’ve known each other for a lifetime, Y/N. There’s nothing about one another that could surprise us anymore.”

“That sounds so boring,” you mutter, the words slipping out of you before you could even control them, effectively dampening the sentimental mood that Yoongi’s in.

“Excuse me?” he asks, a little bit offended but a lot more hurt over your comment.

“We’re not always gonna be the same, Yoongi,” you continue, staring at your feet with your voice low because it’s not like you can retract your words anymore; they’re as out there as you are when it comes to loving Yoongi silently.

“Do you… not want to be friends with me anymore?” he whispers, arm suddenly stalling as he tries to deduct whatever the hell you could possibly mean.

“Where did that come from?”

Yoongi chuckles uneasily, almost regretful he even said that outloud in fear of manifesting it. 

“I don’t– I-I don’t know! It’s just weird with the way you’re talking. Like you purposely want us to change.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” he emphasizes. “If you’re already comfortable with the life that you have now, you don’t need to change,” Yoongi blinks slowly, unfamiliar with the way your eyes lack emotion. “I have you. I have the manny job. I have Haein.”

You’re quiet as you let Yoongi think and simmer in whatever he had to say, and he hates it.

“Is this life not enough for you yet?” he asks hesitantly, the premature scoff that leaves his throat making the bitterness linger for the slightest second. “What more could you want?”

You want to say it’s only him whom you lack, but you stay quiet.

You give Yoongi both the silence and the space to think, and he realizes that he’s never wanted to be overwhelmed by you more.

( ♡ ) 

Things have been awkward between you and Yoongi.

You didn’t mean to sound beyond ungrateful and out of touch, but simply (and maybe even arrogantly) put, Yoongi just didn’t get it. 

He didn’t get where you were coming from because he’s only stayed in one place long enough to call her his future. He didn’t get what you could be possibly going through because Yoongi only longs for comfort and not change because the latter wouldn’t benefit him in any way.

He’s right about him having the manny job makes him happy because he gets a heavy check and a learning experience. He’s also right, even if he’s rarely accurate when faced with her, about having Haein because you figure that if you were in his position, you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

If you were anything like Yoongi by having had the privilege of harboring the person you love and the life-long burden of having to yearn for her, you would be satisfied too.

It’s been a full week since the two of you talked and it’s the longest you ever went without any communication. There’s no texts coming from your end, but there had been plenty of it coming from Yoongi’s.

Yoongi, your best friend, knows that you didn’t end your thanksgiving party in the happiest note because he happened. He felt apologetic about it ever since because he didn’t mean to sound self-absorbed to the point of projecting his selfishness onto you; painting you as the villain would be the last thing he’ll ever do because he knew that between the two of you, you were the stronger one.

You’re the more rational, focused one who studied the same degree as he did, yet actually amounted to something infinitely more even if he’s the younger one who had more opportunities than you ever did.

You’re the more unyielding one between the two of you, because you can stomach ignoring him for a week while he’s about to lose his mind.

Yoongi could send a hundred more texts wherein he pretends to have mistakenly sent a discreet, low-lying sorry to you (because the two of you barely ever apologized to each other) instead of another person. He could react to a message of yours from two months ago just to try and see if you would comment on it.

He could even call you by Haein’s name just to purposely piss you off because he’d settle for anything if it meant breaking you out of your silent treatment, yet you don’t even move an inch whether he calls you on your phone or lingers in the coffee shop you frequent at in your workplace.

Yoongi can pull a hundred different reasons with most of them involving how he’s running errands with the children he looks after. He can say that Hwayoung knows your name (and he’s not lying about it either) and that she asked where you worked, and the both of them just happened to be in the area during their morning walk. He can say every excuse under the sun just to try and get you to talk to him, but you won’t budge.

Yoongi doesn’t like change but he likes the days wherein you rant to him about your day and ask how his went, just like every week before this one. He doesn’t like growth in the guise of everything he’s comfortable with being stripped away, but he likes the nights wherein he could call you and ask you to look after the children in the living room while he goes to the bathroom, when really, he’s just standing from a distance to look at you coo at them.

So when Yoongi got the call from your brother, asking him for a favor to look after your nephew if only he was free for the day (he wasn’t, but he made it work nonetheless), he immediately jumped at the chance of maybe, just maybe seeing you drop by at your family’s home.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says under his breath when he locks eyes with you in the nursery, your presence only being a surprise to him alone because he didn’t think you were staying with your parents the entire week when normally, you’d be a little high-strung staying with them after three consecutive days.

“Just been busy. Sorry,” you reply quietly, your apology only being an afterthought because you’re unsure who’s at fault.

“Me too,” Yoongi clears his throat, bouncing your sleeping nephew on his arms as he indiscreetly makes his way to you. “I’m sorry too, I mean.”

It’s weird for the both of you to apologize to each other.

It’s weird for you to see Yoongi in your childhood house and have no one question his presence, because the scene of him cradling your brother’s baby with a cloth strewn over his shoulder and your sister’s headband on his head to keep his hair away from his face, only looks right.

It’s weird for Yoongi to see you so torn up over him, and it’s even weirder that all the anger he had towards you for ignoring him just immediately dissipated.

Yoongi puts your nephew down on his crib with a precise gentleness to him, his hands cramping up not because he spent so long trying to get him to calm down, but because he doesn’t ever know what to do with them whenever you face him.

“You didn’t have to do this for my brother, y’know? You shouldn’t feel pressured to say yes just because he asked,” you clear your throat, filling the silence in with your voice that Yoongi has missed so badly.

“What are you talking about? I’m not on the clock right now,” Yoongi furrows his brows, the frown on his face evident. “I’m not here as a manny. I’m here as an uncle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he snorts, the snarky expression from him cutting through the tension between you. You could just throw your head back out of relief, knowing that Yoongi’s not that mad at you, but the both of you know you’re far from the clear.

You’re far from the clear when you don’t make a single move to come towards him across the room, even if it’s the only thing you wanted to do the past week.

You know you’re far from the clear and even further from moving on when it’s Yoongi who comes to you, his pace slow yet definitive, his fists unclenched for once as he practically leaps towards you in the end.

It takes one, two seconds for you to realize that although it’s Yoongi who made the first move to get close to you, it’s you who puts your hands on his cheeks, forehead rested against his with your eyes closed, tightly. Painfully.

Yoongi opens his eyes when you do, staying in your grasp even if he realizes that you almost kissed.

“You can read my mind, Yoongi, right?” you whisper, pulling apart briefly to look up at him, yet close nonetheless because you could still practically hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“Yeah,” he swallows the lump in his throat, the hand he has around your waist loosening for just a fraction of a second, yet you don’t need it— you don’t need him to unravel further to confirm what you’ve always known.

“So I don’t need to say it out loud,” you smile tightly, the shaky sigh that leaves you making Yoongi’s lips purse out of guilt. “So I don’t need to say it out loud that I love you,” you say in your mind, eyes already stinging even if Yoongi hasn’t let go of you yet.

“You don’t,” he affirms, his voice hoarse as his hand on your waist still doesn’t budge, the other cradling your wrist because he can’t decipher if it’s him wanting to keep your hand on his face, or if it’s him keeping you away. “You can read my mind too, right?”

You nod earnestly, the smile that he gives you even being tighter than yours.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “So I can’t— I-I don’t have to say it either,” he whispers. “I don’t need to say out loud that the feeling isn’t mutual,” you read in his mind, the silent admission effectively relieving you of the weight you’ve carried ever since you knew him.

Yoongi’s phone ringing is the only thing that snaps the both of you from your daze, your immediate composure being shaky despite having prepared for this for so long because you knew it anyway.

You know that no matter how much Yoongi looks like he belongs to you, your life, and everything in between, you still won’t stand a chance against the person who’d make him drop everything new for the promise of coming home to everything he’s familiar with.

“It’s uhm— it’s Haein,” he explains, the nervous grin he has on face being infectious despite your very own appearing for a much different reason. “She wants to talk about things.”

“You don’t have to let me know,” you shake your head, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Go, Yoongi.”

.

.

.

You’re not ignoring Yoongi anymore.

Apropos of nothing, Yoongi and Haein are talking again.

They’re not together, yet, but you know how it always ends between them anyway, so you steel yourself for the worst despite it being Yoongi’s best.

( ♡ ) 

You badly want to change.

You badly want to change and although it’s not Yoongi’s fault, the way he hovers around you makes you feel otherwise.

You already made well on your promise of not shutting him out whenever things get tough for you, but even then, no part of the way you’ve been acting recently ever appeases Yoongi.

He’s accustomed to you growing like you always have been, yet he didn’t even think that you changing bit by bit could ever impact him this greatly, Sure, Yoongi’s happy that you’re no longer ignoring him intentionally, but his stomach still turns every time you do reply to him at an ungodly hour and he’s reminded of your little joke (he hopes it is) that you’re more active at that time of night because of your extracurriculars.

Yoongi’s happy that you still turn to him, but a large part of him, if not the entirety, grows bitter when he sees you looking happier nowadays and he can’t tell if it’s because of something you’ve already told him or if it’s because of something totally unrelated and how he could never know, because the one thing that he made you promise is for you to keep being his friend.

You’re still Yoongi’s friend before, during, and after your confession, and he doesn’t know if that placates him.

Yoongi doesn’t want to amount to anything less than a friend to you but he doesn’t want to be your family either. He wants to be whatever it is in your life that knows why you’re smiling so much and why you barely rant to him.

He wants to be whatever, whoever, it is your life in order to know that you’re seeing Taehyung right from your mouth and not from your brother’s like he’s a jaded suitor that’s been anticipating bad news.

Yoongi wants to matter enough, as if he already doesn’t, to know about you having a boyfriend.

“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” he spits, the way he barrels into your apartment with his own keycard being unceremonious. 

Yoongi knows today’s your rest day and he knows that by this time, you’d be on a call with him to ask about his day and entertain Hwayoung who keeps butting into your conversation. By this time, it would’ve still been you and him, whether or not Haein and Taehyung were in the picture.

“You’re hooking up with the guy that talked shit about me, and you didn’t bother telling me?”

“Taehyung didn’t talk shit about you,” you scoff, closing the door after him as you follow him into your living room.

Yoongi’s eyes widen comically, heart clenching when he realizes that you have no comeback for anything else he’s said, jaw clenching as he points a finger at you.

“He fucking looked down on me-…”

“He was just shocked!” 

“Are you seriously defending him instead of being on my side?!” he exclaims, the sarcastic chuckle that leaves his lips rubbing you wrong because for any other person and any other instance, you’d laugh with him too.

“Do you not expect me to?” you snarl. “You’re dragging my boyfriend’s name to an argument that you started, and you don’t expect me to defend him?”

“You’re being a hypocrite,” he grits, nostrils flaring in sheer anger.

“And if I am, then what about it?!” you throw your hands into the air, poking your finger at his chest yet he refuses to get out of your face. “Have you not ever been a hypocrite when it comes to defending the person you love?”

It’s not your glare that gets him to back off.

It’s not your hostile, defensive nature towards Yoongi, in defense of Taehyung, that makes him deadly silent.

It’s you, holding up a mirror for the same blind defensiveness that he’d always carry whenever your words just barely graze Haein’s honor.

You’re guilty of judging Yoongi, but not of dissuading him from pursuing Haein like he’s always done — Yoongi, however, can’t say the same for himself.

“I hope Taehyung’s worth it,” he spits. “I hope he’s worth treating me like this, because not once have I ever made you less of a priority even when Haein was still in the picture.”

The use of was makes you pause, the past tense making you blink owlishly and finally take a step back from Yoongi as if it’s just your proximity to him that was the raging problem.

“Haein was my girlfriend but I never, never turned my back on you. I never made things awkward for us. I never stopped showing up for you, even if it costed me with her. I never made you feel the way you’re making me feel now,” Yoongi heaves, jaw clenching from how hard he’s ignoring the lump in his throat.

You chuckle sarcastically, the briefest glimpse you have of yourself in Yoongi’s words making you feel utterly pathetic. “Yeah? And how am I making you feel now?”

“Like we haven’t known each other our whole lives.”

( ♡ ) 

It’s been months since you and Yoongi properly talked to each other.

Life got in the way between the two of you and as much as Yoongi didn’t want to push, you didn’t want to grow out of the comfort that you already had with Taehyung either.

There were still texts and calls, but in between Yoongi getting whisked away for his employers’ vacation for a change and you being content with your job and your boyfriend as your comfort, neither of you made any drastic moves after your fight.

The only apology that Yoongi could get out of you after storming off from your apartment was you asking if he had already eaten dinner two nights after your fight, while the only apology that your close friend could ever give to you was that he hadn’t (even if he actually did), just to get your conversation rolling.

You feel guilty reserving parts of you from Yoongi, namely Taehyung and how he fits into your life, even if it’s always been established that there’s no use hiding. You know a terrible lot of information about how Yoongi and Haein are in bed against your will, and Yoongi has an awful amount of knowledge about your preference for condoms and how you like your men. 

There’s guilt in your chest and you don’t think it would ever disappear for as long as Yoongi’s still in your life. Being defensive about anyone outside of your family and Yoongi, specifically because neither are synonymous no matter how much Yoongi keeps recurring from your family’s mouths, is something entirely brand new.

Taehyung is new to your system, just as Yoongi was all those years ago, and it scares him more than it scares you.

The concept of lagging behind someone who had just been a casual topic of interest (more specifically because he had seemingly offended you and him) then became your boyfriend overnight feels like a giant slap on the face because Yoongi, not once, has ever entertained the possibility that you’d be as lovesick as him.

He didn’t think that you were also capable of being defensive about a loved one who isn’t him, just like he is over Haein. 

He didn’t think about how angry and offended he’d feel seeing you become so protective of someone who doesn’t know you like he does, because in Yoongi’s defense, Taehyung doesn’t know shit about you.

Taehyung does not and will never know you like he does, because he never trailed after you and idolized you in everything that you do, so much so that he only pursued his degree because you did before him.

Unlike Yoongi, Taehyung never had to be taught by you how to drive and what it means to have his family’s manual transmission car stall right after the stoplight turned green, because it meant you having to comfort Yoongi who was in tears after being honked at, and you lying straight through your teeth to his parents by saying that he was excellent and should definitely be trusted with driving the car alone with Haein to take her on dates.

Unlike the person you know the most, Taehyung never had to have the conversation with your dad about looking after you in college despite being younger, yet puffing his chest out nonetheless to agree because he made it his personal mission.

Taehyung will never be Yoongi and the latter takes pride in it, except now, he feels that Taehyung doesn’t ever want to be in his position—

Why would Taehyung vie for his position when it’s clear that he’s at an advantage?

Yoongi ignores his feelings and grievances the best that he can, yet unlike the old him who could endure so much shit because it meant having you to lean on, he can’t help but explode now that it’s you whom he can’t see eye to eye with.

“Taehyung and I were thinking of eloping,” you say out of the blue, your admission feeling appropriate (in your eyes, atleast) because you and Yoongi have so much to catch up on after being apart and he strayed the topic towards your sister who’s expecting her first child.

You thought it was your turn to say something equally as life-changing, because with the way Yoongi hasn’t talked about Haein once and you assuming that it’s because they were back together and he was just shy to talk about it, you bit the bullet first.

You thought wrong, clearly, because the happiness completely drains away from Yoongi the moment you finished your sentence.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, don’t be stupid,” he repeats, eyes narrowing at you in anger. “You’ve only been in a relationship with him for months-…”

“I’ve known him for years-…”

“And that still doesn’t justify you marrying him just because you feel like it,” he spits, your revelation far from making him happy like you thought it would. “Stop being stupid, Y/N. You’re not marrying Taehyung just because you’re in another one of your impulsive moods.”

Your mouth falls open at that, scoffing in disbelief because Yoongi isn’t letting up in the slightest with the way there’s no hint of his outburst just being a sick joke.

“I’m not being impulsive. I really do want to marry him!”

“Oh yeah? How’s married life going to work out for you when-…”

“I only told you because I wanted to let you know. I wasn’t asking you to weigh in, Yoongi,” you snap, crossing your arms in defense while Yoongi only steps towards you.

The thought of eloping with Taehyung crossed your mind once after a weird dream, and you thought nothing about it at first so you texted him and went right back to sleep. What you didn’t expect was that he didn’t hate the idea at all (in fact, he was even happy that you thought about it), and Taehyung’s confirmation for something unlike you, for something that resembled to settling and being comfortable, changed you completely.

“You don’t expect me to interfere when you tell me you’re going to make the biggest mistake of your life?” Yoongi huffs, his eyes widening over your seeming indifference. 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that getting married to Taehyung would be the biggest mistake I’ll ever make?”

“I’m your closest friend! I know you better than you know yourself and-…”

“You don’t,” you retort. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all or even respect me when you think the worst of Taehyung when you barely even know him!”

“I could know Taehyung for a decade and still think the fucking worst of him!” Yoongi raises his voice, laughing humorlessly as he runs his hand through his hair. “I could know Taehyung or any other guy for a lifetime and still think that they won’t ever be good enough for you!”

The laugh that escapes you is offensive.

It’s as offensive as Yoongi making your graduation about him by crying to your sheets because Haein broke up with him, and it’s as offensive as you scoffing to his face when he said that having his job serves as his practice for a future with her.

“What, because you’re in love with me?” you spit, trying to trigger something in him just so he could leave you be, for good, because everything that’s he’s saying to now– with the defensiveness you’ve only heard from yourself whenever he rationalized trying to get back with his first love — takes you right back to your previous pining.

Yoongi’s only silent, trusting that you could read his mind, and you’ve never hated knowing him as much as you do than now.

“You’re telling me that you’re in love with me, right when I decided I was sick of loving you my whole life?” you whisper, the tears stinging from the corner of your eyes making your heart clench. You’ve been called too stubborn. Too calculating and too heartless, even by your own family, and for you to unfold in front of Yoongi this easily makes you wail. “Are you shitting me, Yoongi? Are you— are you out of your goddamn mind to tell me this?”

Yoongi looks down in shame, the truth of him being over his first love not relieving the weight on his shoulders like he foolishly expected, because everything he falls short when he sees you crying.

“I didn’t want to get back to Haein with something weighing so heavily on my chest,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to get back with her because you just ignoring me for a fucking week hurt more than any breakup I’ve had with her.” 

Yoongi, vividly, can remember how distraught he was. He can remember how he can’t recall a time wherein he didn’t have you to depend on, as if he didn’t ever outgrow the phase of him idolizing you and following you wherever you went.

As if he’s still the seventeen year old him asking to borrow your slippers for Haein, while deep down seeking your approval for her because he didn’t want to do anything without you beaming at him.

“I-I felt… I felt like I was losing my mind, Y/N.”

“Can you read my mind right now?” you ask, shakily exhaling as you look down on the floor.

“That’s a really stupid thing to bring up right now,” Yoongi breathlessly chuckles, letting his hair brush past his eyes because he’s a little terrified of looking how distraught, how disappointed, you are. “But no.”

“Do you not want to say it out loud?” he asks, making you laugh silently as you gathered the strength to sit next to him, yet not as close as you always did. “Whatever it is, it’s not like I’m going to give up now,” he mumbles, looking down on your hand that’s rested on the cushion, your pinky finger just centimeters away from his, yet he can’t move to hold you like he wants to.

You wanted Yoongi and he wants you, and there’s only so much points where you could intersect until you say what’s been lingering in your mind, just like every other apology the both of you have passed up.

“We need some time apart, Yoongi. We need space,” you mumble. “We need to figure it out on our own before we figure it out together because-…”

Yoongi finishes your thought for you, head tilted down and hand outstretched with the hope that comes with being a little too late for someone who’s waited a little too long.

“Because we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Yoongi refuses to break even if he comprehends exactly what you’re saying, because there’s no point in it when he knows he’ll never be angry at you. You can defend him and you can hurt him all at once, yet he’ll never curse you, simply because there’s no point picking at wounds he’ll keep on licking anyway.

“Do we just-…” he shrugs lightly, pinky finger painfully close to yours until he makes the heavy move of lifting it, just enough to to cover yours. “Do we find our way back to each other? Is that it?”

“That’s the plan, hopefully,” you smile, sucking in a breath you never thought would be this heavy. “I’ll find you if you find me.”

“I’ll find you when you find me,” Yoongi corrects. “We’ll find our way back to each other.”

You resent comfort and Yoongi abhors change, but there’s only so much the both of you could take until you realize that the only thing constant in your lives is each other, no matter how many seasons pass you by.

For Yoongi, it’s you.

Despite everything, it’s still you.

( ♡ ) 

The year that you spend with Yoongi flitting every once in awhile like he’s only a friend, and not the man you’ve first loved, is a year you didn’t think you’d ever spend.

Despite you and Taehyung separating amicably, he still took with him the love that you sincerely invested. He wasn’t the first boyfriend you’ve ever had, and although you were no stranger to heartbreak, he still imprinted a large chunk of him onto you.

At one point in your life, you did want to marry him; and at several points in your life after him that you don’t even think of denying, you really thought it would be him if not for the life that you led.

You don’t resent Yoongi for loving you a little too late because there’s no point in it, as much as Taehyung doesn’t even hate you in the slightest for letting him let you go in pursuit of the change that the both of you badly needed.

Yoongi could never bring himself to hate you either, even if being apart from you gnawed at him from the inside. Making something out of himself had been his biggest plan outside of pursuing you from a distance, because as soon he tendered in his resignation letter to his employers and cried right in front of the children he looked after, Yoongi won’t ever lie and say that he wasn’t scared.

Yoongi resents change even if you’re someone who yearns for it, and even with the terror that wracks his bones of starting new without you being there for him as his safety net, Yoongi does it scared anyway.

He does it scared with one eye closed as he puts the degree he’s only learned to love because of you to work, developing an app for families to look for certified, trustworthy nannies.

He does it scared anyway with his heart barely into himself and fully into you when he shows up a full night early before your family’s thanksgiving party, donning his reserved suit as he clutches a new pair of house slippers, which again, like always and just like he is, is only for you.

For you, it’s Yoongi.

Despite everything, it’s still Yoongi.

[luludeluluramblings]

One thing I always wonder in Neglected! Reader scenarios that I haven’t seen anyone explore is Married/Single Mom! Reader. It’s drama and angst potential.

Like Reader having a boyfriend and getting pregnant while still living in the Wayne manor, and everyone just takes a little too long to figure out. Maybe they do find out early with the morning sickness and whatnot but the thought of Bruce looking at Reader like 6 months pregnant and being like “Wait a minute… 🤨” and Reader wasn’t even trying to hide it that much.

And same scenario except Reader moved out either while pregnant or got pregnant after, Batfam forgets all about them and when fate does bring them together (like the Bruce/Selina wedding concept) she is literally about to pop or has a whole baby with her. Cue Bruce (and later everyone else) losing his shit because omg??? 😧 that’s his first grandchild and he had no idea!!

… And then if the Reader is married in this scenario, makes it all the more complicated (she didn’t invite anyone to her wedding? what do you mean Alfred attended when we had no idea?). Everyone is straight up hostile towards her spouse (Damian, Bruce and Jason are insufferable) and safe to say he won’t be around for long. Single mom Reader though, the amount of emotional manipulation about kids needing a family and father figures and you should move back in so everyone can help with the baby… Yeah.

Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x SugarBaby!Reader x Older!Husband

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N:OOOOO, I have something I was working on that I was having fun with that you might like!

A/N:Neglected!Reader with Older!Husband. (It's husband because it's based of that meme Your daughter calls me daddy, too. And, Reader is Female, because we're making a baby in here.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You, sweet thing, do the typical thing and run off from home, once you turn the legal age. Checking in with Alfred on occasion, but just living your best life. Only, in typical fashion, all those years of neglect lead to severe daddy issues. And, a minor itty bitty attraction to older men.

You get lucky though because you manage to find a fine one that loves to spoil his baby girl with vacations and spa days. All the best for his baby. He loves taking you places and showing you a good time. So, it's no wonder he plans a Babymoon for you when you're expecting your first child. Anything for you.

Unfortunately, Daddy gets called into work right before the vacation. And, despite you insisting you stay, he makes you go and promises to join you as soon as possible.

(No, the man isn't cheating. He just gotta make the money for his baby.)

You have a good time, pregnant on the beach. Getting massages and spa treatments. Video calling your husband every time the baby kicks and flutters.

Unfortunetly, even though you haven't used the Wayne name since you've been married, some drug lords recognize you and decide to ransom you. Dragging you back to Gotham in your little sundress the just so hides your baby bump.

Gotham media runs with the story. Lost Wayne heiress held hostage. No one is ignoring that.

The bat's pull off a daring rescue, but you being stubborn, try to escape on your own. Fearing for your baby's life if they just happen to chose not to come. They never came when you were little, why would they come now.

You happen to injure yourself while escaping. But, manage to make it to an on scene ambulance while the Bats take care of the thugs. You happen to faint on the way to the hospital, leaving the doctor's discover you pregnancy.

Already the media is surrounding the hospital for the most drama filled story of the year. Thankfully, the paramedics have some compassion in hide the bump when rolling you into the ER.

With the media's attention, your husband flies into Gotham and makes it to the hospital just in time to ask the nurse where you are in front of Bruce.

Bruce, of course, bristles when a man his age burst in the hospital demanding to see you, but is using the wrong last name. The nurse saying only family can see you.

"That's my daughter," Bruce will say. Assuming this man is trying to claim you as his. But, he already did.

Making Bruce, the family, the nurses, the patients, and the reporter who managed to sneak in freeze when he says, "That's my wife."

Imagine the doctor that just finished checking on you and your baby walking in right after announcing that you were both okay. The look on Bruce's face when he realizes that this man, his age, not only married you, but had the audacity to put a baby in you.

Even better, the smug way your husband looks at Bruce when he brushes past him to follow the nurse to your room because husband beats father and you demanded to see him.

The drama that follows is going to be legendary.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I had this idea jotted down and fluffed it up just for this. I'm not sure you wanna know who I had in mind for Reader's husband. (Dude is from another franchise.) But, the thought of him interacting with Bruce as the guy who married Bruce's daughter and knocked her up, delights me in such a visceral way.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 12: Fire In My Veins

Summary: Your heat begins. Luckily you have a good alpha to take care of you during your most vulnerable time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, knotting, spanking (it’s like once), fluids so many fluids, heat cycles, mating cycles, lots of talk of breeding and mating, biting, brief mention of blood, this is gross y’all, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: It was quite the ordeal, this chapter, and it's come a long way from when I first wrote it between Sunday and Monday this week. It's pretty much just smut so enjoy!!

The smut starts after the first scene and goes to the end, so only read up to the first green line if you don’t want the smut. You’re not missing much, just Price biting the reader to claim her, but I’ll talk more about that in the next chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You alright, love?” 

You look up from where you had been staring at the floor, suddenly pulled back into the real world by Gaz’s voice. He had been organizing the nutrient bars and electrolyte bottles in your room while you sat and dissociated to the sound of rustling paper bags. 

You stare at his furrowed brows and worried eyes for a moment before averting your gaze with a nod. “Yeah.” 

The carpet under your feet has never looked quite so interesting before.

Gaz moves to sit next to you on the bed, sinking down onto the mattress with a sigh. “Nervous?” 

You nod in response, clutching the strawberry pillow in your arms tighter against your chest. 

“You’ll be alright.” Gaz says, his hand warm as it presses against your back. “I’m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Both you and Price. I’ll be right outside that door, and I’ll be in and out too. Dr. Keller’s ready in case something happens, but I don’t think anything will.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close against him. “You’re in good hands.” 

“There’s no going back after this.” You say, leaning into his side. 

“No, I don’t think any of us would want to anyway.” He smiles down at your surprised face. “What? I thought that was obvious. We all want you as part of our pack. You are part of the pack already, at least in every way but officially. None of us would trade you for anything.”

Your eyes fill with tears at his words. You know it’s just the stress and the hormones and the impending heat that could start at any time, but his words reach some deep part of you that was worried that they were all faking, that they all actually hated you. His words calm you a bit, easing away that stress and fear that you’ve been carrying for the last almost six weeks. 

“Come now, none of that.” Gaz says, wiping the tear that trails down your cheek. “Can’t afford getting dehydrated now.” 

You can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s right. You’ve had so much liquid over the last couple days you feel as though you might burst at any second. It was necessary, considering the amount of fluid you were about to lose. 

Gaz leans down, kissing all over your face. You giggle, falling back on your bed to try and escape, but he follows you, continuing to plant little kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Kyle!” You shriek, giggling as his kisses tickle your skin. 

He pauses, leaning up so you’re eye to eye, a grin on his face. “You called me Kyle.” 

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You say, blinking up at him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You can call me Kyle as much as you’d like, love.” He says as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him in place as you kiss him back. His arm snakes beneath you, pressing you tightly against his chest. He groans quietly into your lips, body taught against yours. You can feel every part of him, the muscles under his shirt, the strength of his thighs. Your head is spinning, and you know it’s mostly due to your impending heat. 

You let out a quiet whine as his lips leave yours, trailing down your neck to your shoulder. He leaves a scalding kiss over your scent gland, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin. 

“Can’t wait to see the mark,” He murmurs against your skin, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as your body begins to warm a little. “When Price claims you, makes you his.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, a shudder running through your whole body. 

Kyle chuckles, sucking a mark on your collarbone. “You won’t be just his, though, huh? Gonna be ours.” 

You let out a whine at his words, your fingers trailing up the back of his neck. He lets out a quiet groan, his body shuddering as you tease the sensitive skin. You feel lightheaded and dizzy from the rapidly shifting hormones of your pre-heat. You’re very close to the start. Any day now you could wake in a sweat with an insatiable ache between your thighs. You're like a ticking time bomb, but neither of the demolition experts you now live with can disarm you. 

If only it could be so easy. 

Kyle presses one last kiss to your lips before he pulls back, smiling down at you. “You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You can’t help but believe him, especially with those big brown eyes staring down at you. 

It’s sweltering. A fire has started beneath your skin, flames licking your veins, your very cells scorching in the fiery inferno that has overtaken you. An arid desert has bloomed in your mouth, your tongue heavy and sticky. Sweat has slicked your skin, consciousness only bringing awareness to the dampness of your sheets and pajamas. 

It also brings awareness to the pain. 

There’s an intense ache between your legs, your pelvis cramping. Slick has coated your thighs, soaking through your pajama pants, the fabric clinging to your skin. It’s too much, the sensations of your pajamas and the weight of the blankets nearly driving you to insanity. You need to be bare. It’s too hot and the drag of the fabric across your skin makes you want to cry. 

Not to mention the intense need burning through you. 

The mattress protector crinkles as you shift on the bed, every movement taking an excess amount of energy as you attempt to tug your shirt off with fumbling fingers. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, your arms heavy and sluggish as you peel the fabric from your sticky skin, letting it fall to the floor. You lay there exhausted, body twitching as your temperature begins to spike. You blindly reach out, fingers trembling as they grasp at your phone. Your eyes are bleary as you blink rapidly at the too bright screen. You fumble with clumsy fingers on the screen, dialing the first number you see, not caring who it is.

“Hello?” 

You let out a quiet whine at the rough voice, thick with sleep. You can’t get your mouth to move, to form any words as you lay there pathetically, half undressed and soaked in sweat and slick. There’s an ache between your thighs, pulsing in time with your heart. Your free hand fumbles with your waistband, desperate to try and get your pants down, to remove the feeling of your underwear sticking to your slick folds. 

“Help.” You manage a single word, not even sure it was intelligible. You let out a frustrated whimper, your body not cooperating to lift your hips so you can pull down your pants. 

A moment of silence passes before you get a response. “Fuck, be right there, love.” 

The line clicks, and a moment later a door is opening down the hall. You’re silently grateful you hadn’t locked your door last night, as there was no way you would be able to get out of bed and make it across the floor. It opens just enough for the figure to slip in before he closes it, not wanting to let your scent freely flow down the hallway. 

The light of the lamp on your nightstand accosts your eyes as it’s turned on, making you squint. You don’t miss the way Kyle’s nose crinkles for a moment as he catches the sickly sweet, overwhelming aroma of your scent as it pours from your body. His hand is cool against your forehead as he brushes the stray strands of hair sticking to your skin back. Johnny had braided it last night at least to try and keep it out of the way. 

“Easy.” He says quietly, shushing you as you whimper in need. 

You let out a whine as Kyle pushes the blankets out of the way. You’re incapable of caring that you’re half naked in front of him for the first time, and he pays it no mind. You tug uselessly at your pajama pants again, letting out a frustrated whine as you fail to shimmy them down your legs again. Kyle bats your hands away, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging the pants down your legs. You sigh in relief as the fabric is pulled away from your skin, a shiver running through you as the cool air hits your slicked folds. 

Kyle gathers your clothes, adding them into the bag of things that would need to be washed as soon as your heat is over before he returns to your side. 

“I need you to drink something for me, then I’ll go get Price, alright?” He says, kneeling down next to the bed as he grabs the electrolyte drink from your nightstand. 

You flop against his chest as he slips an arm around you, helping prop you up. Your face presses into his neck, inhaling deeply. A whine of disappointment leaves your lips as you realize he’s not what you need, your omega dissatisfied with the scent of beta emanating from him. 

“I know.” He says, easing you away from his neck. “Just drink this first and then you can have your alpha.” 

“Alpha.” You whimper, leaning against Kyle’s chest. 

He helps you drink some of the sweet liquid, and you gulp it down, relieved as it eases some of the dryness in your mouth. He lets you drink half of the bottle before he pulls it away, setting it on the nightstand. 

“Good girl.” He praises you, helping you lay back down against your pillow. “I’ll go get Price. I’ll get your alpha.” 

You hum contently at the promise of what’s coming, your omega practically screaming for her alpha, for some relief. 

Kyle slips back out the door, your head buzzing as the intense arousal and need burning within you gets stronger. Your pussy is pulsing, slick dribbling out of you as the need to mate takes over. The primordial instinct to reproduce is strong, your omega clawing at your mind, screaming to be bred, screaming to be bred, to carry pups. You need your alpha. You need his knot. 

You roll onto your stomach, pressing your hips into the mattress. You need something, anything to ease the aching pulse in your body. You begin to rut against the sheets, dragging your clit against the rough fabric. You let out a quiet whine as the friction sends pleasure shooting through you, a slight relief from the pain of your intense arousal. 

The door opens, your head shooting up as the heavy scent of alpha washes over you. Your eyes dilate, a shudder traveling from your head to your toes as the familiar scent of damp earth laced with the musk of arousal invades your senses. You let out another whine as John approaches the bed, your hips still rutting desperately against the sheets. You look utterly ruined, wide eyed and sweat-slicked, panting like an animal in heat. 

You are an animal in heat. 

“Look at you.” John mumbles, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. He stands over you, watching the desperate movements of your hips for a moment. “Needy little thing.” He teases, setting his phone on your nightstand before tugging his shirt over his head. 

You watch as every inch of skin is revealed to you, lips parting as you take him in. The strength of his muscles, the softness of his stomach. You want to lick every inch of him. You want to roll around in his scent, cover yourself in his essence, mark every part of your body with him. 

You arch into his touch as he drags a hand down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You press your ass into his hand as he passes over it, fingers tugging your thighs apart. He groans again as a wave of your thick, sweet scent washes over him. 

“Let me see you.” He growls, sweatpants hitting the floor. 

You hear him, but you’re too busy staring at him in awe. More slick slips out of you at the sight of his cock, red and angry and painfully hard already. You can almost swear it’s pulsing in time with your pussy. A harsh gasp is pulled from your throat as he brings his hand down across your ass, the sound of skin striking skin loud enough to pull you back to reality. 

“I said, present for your alpha.” He says, the rough rumble of his inner alpha coating the edges of his voice. 

You whimper in response, scrambling up onto your hands and knees like a good omega for him as he kneels on the bed behind you.  

“Good girl.” He rumbles, a pleased whine leaving your lips at his praise. 

You push back into his hands as he cups your ass, his hand smoothing over the burning spot on the cheek he’d slapped. You can’t feel the pain from it, far too lost in your heat-riddled brain to register anything but the need pulsing between your thighs and the alpha staring at your soaked pussy. Thumbs part your folds, slick dribbling onto the sheets as he stares at your pussy. 

“So fucking slick for me.” He groans, dragging a thumb along your slit. 

“For you alpha!” You gasp, pressing back harder against his hands. 

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he drags his thumb through your folds again, pressing the digit against your clit. Your gasp is broken by a whimper, your clit already sensitive from you humping against your bed like a needy pup. You bend your top half down, relaxing against the mattress as you grind back against his hand. He lets you, keeping his hand still as he lets you work yourself to pleasure on your own. 

“Please! Please!” You beg, mind going numb with pleasure as his thumb brushes your clit with every rock of your hips. Your legs are already shaking, body trembling as the pleasure starts to build and build, the promise of relief coming at the hands of your alpha. 

“Eager little thing,” He rumbles, his breath fanning across your folds. 

You moan as his tongue drags along your slit, tasting your slick. Your fingers sink into the sheets, holding on as his tongue prods your entrance, his mouth slurping at the slick dripping from you. It’s obscene, but either of you care, both of you too lost in your need. 

Your knees nearly give out, your pussy clenching around his tongue as he applies more pressure against your clit, drawing slow circles with his thumb. He’s groaning against you, the quiet sound rumbling deep in his chest. He’s losing his own sanity, his alpha taking over as your heat triggers his rut instincts. His alpha has to be screaming as much as your omega is to mate. 

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, washing over you with a power that almost makes you black out. Slick spills out of you as your pussy flutters, soaking John’s face and beard in your juices. He’s relentless, not giving you even a second as he continues to fuck you with his tongue as his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit. Your legs are shaking, eyes rolling as the pleasure continues to build. Despite your orgasm, it’s not enough. Your brain knows it and your body knows it. You need a knot before you’ll be able to relax, before the pain and the need fades enough for your brain to relax. 

Even then, it will only be for a moment. 

“Alpha!” You whine, pushing back against his face, seeking out more. 

John growls against your pussy, the sound vibrating into your very soul. You let out a whimper in response, clutching at the sheets desperately. He pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips. You wish you could see him, the way his face shines with your slick, his beard soaked with your release. He licks his lips, savoring every last taste of you he can get as he sinks his fingers into you. 

You clamp down around the thick digits, a groan leaving his lips as you squeeze around him. You’re desperate for another orgasm, another chance at relief from the blazing inferno under your skin, the painful need still pulsing in your pelvis. 

“Please, alpha!” You whine, bucking back against his hand. “Hurts.”

He shushes you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers. The wet squelch of your pussy is loud in the small room, obscene and depraved, but you cannot bring yourself to care who might be able to hear as another orgasm rushes through your body. You whine in pleasure as slick dribbles out around his fingers, forced out by the fluttering of your walls. You can’t stop, don’t stop, as you continue to rock back against him. He watches you, holding his hand still as you fuck yourself on his fingers. You’re still desperate for more, still needing the one thing he won’t give you yet. 

He pulls his fingers from you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy is still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, still trying to clench around nothing. John curses as he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and your release across the sensitive skin. 

“Tell me what you need.” He rasps, the edges of his voice harsh as his alpha begins to take over.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You whine, pushing your hips back, searching for anything that might offer some more relief. “Please.”

He lets out a pleased rumble, shifting behind you. You bite your lip in anticipation and excitement, your body twitching as his rough hands smooth over the skin of your hips. His touch is electric, amplified by the sensitivity brought on by your heat. You want to feel him against you, you want to feel him inside of you. You need him, every fiber of your being, every cell in your body reaching out to him, inviting him in. 

A quiet mewl escapes you as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick on his hard length. Your entire body flutters in anticipation as he pushes against your entrance, meeting no resistance as he presses into you. Your body aids him, relaxing around him as it welcomes the intrusion. There’s no pain, no discomfort as he stretches you open, aided by the copious slick that still seeps out around his cock. You practically shudder in relief as you finally get what you want, what you need. 

Your alpha’s cock inside you. 

His grip is tight on your hips as he begins to move, rocking his own hips as he presses deeper into you. He shifts his legs around yours, pressing himself closer until he’s flush against your ass. You can feel him deep inside you, and you’re almost certain you could see it if you looked. You brace yourself against the bed, instinct taking over as you begin to move with him, rocking back to meet his thrusts. It’s lewd, the sound of skin slapping skin as he sets an almost frantic pace, sharp thrusts accentuating the wet squelch of your pussy around him, and the sound of his hips meeting your ass. 

His fingers dig into your hips almost to the point of pain, but you don’t care. You’re far too lost in your instincts, and the pleasure, to care much about anything. The hormones and endorphins block it out, only one thought on your mind, playing on repeat. 

Knot knot knot knot.

You moan loudly as Price ruts into you, not caring who might hear, or who can hear. Price moans and growls, the sweetness of your scent blocking out all thoughts except how much he needs to breed you, how much he needs to be a good alpha and take care of his omega. 

You just want to be a good omega for your alpha. 

You cum again with a cry, pussy fluttering around his cock as more slick dribbles out of you, soaking the sheets below you. John doesn’t stop, save for a slight falter of his thrusts as you squeeze around him tightly, your pussy trying to milk his own orgasm from him. Your body is shaking, his hands the only thing keeping your hips upright as more and more pleasure continues to build despite now three orgasms that have rocked through you. 

You need him to cum, you need him to fill you up with his knot. You need to feel the warmth of his seed inside you, the heaviness of it as it fills you. Drool begins to pool on the sheets below your face, adding to the mix of fluids soaked into your already damp sheets. John’s pace never falters, even as sweat begins to build on his brow, sliding down the sides of his face. You want to lick it, follow the trail of salty liquid as it falls down his neck and onto his chest. 

Sweat drips from your own skin as another orgasm begins to build. You can tell John is close too as his grip tightens on your hips, the pain registering just for a moment at the back of your mind. You’ll forget it by the time your heat ends, the momentary pull to awareness lost in the haze of mindless pleasure and a need to mate. 

“C’mon.” John growls, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Give it to me.” 

You let out a whine, knowing what it is he wants, what it is you need as you push yourself back up onto shaking arms, the adrenaline the only thing giving you the strength to move. John moves your braids to the other side of your neck, his chest pressing against your back. It changes the angle of his thrusts as he grinds against you, the swelling at the base of his cock catching on your walls as he continues to thrust deeply into you. 

“Please,” You whimper, bearing your neck to him as he kisses along the line of your shoulder. “Please alpha. Wanna be yours.” You whimper, arching into him in an attempt to get closer as his teeth drag across your skin. 

“My good omega.” He growls, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin right next to your scent gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “My good girl. Gonna take my knot like a good omega? Let me fill you up with pups as I make you mine?” 

You let out a high pitched whine at his words, trying to press your neck closer to his mouth. “Please, alpha! Please! Wanna be a good omega!” 

He curses under his breath, his arm wrapping around your body to hold you up. His knot presses into you, stretching you open as it continues to swell until he’s locked inside you. You cum around his knot at the sensation of being filled so completely, his hips continuing to grind against you as he chases his own orgasm. 

You nearly black out as his teeth sink into your skin, the pinch lasting only for a second before pleasure rushes through you. You let out a loud, high-pitched sound as he claims you, marking you as his forever. Another, sudden orgasm slams into you, his arm holding you still as you try to writhe on his knot. He growls into your skin as he stills, hips jerking against your ass as he cums inside you. 

Your arms give out as he releases your shoulder, blood dripping onto the sheets below you. Your head is spinning as he drags his tongue across the raised skin, cleaning the mark he’s left on you. 

He shushes you as you let out little whimpers and whines, gently easing your body so you’re laying flat against the bed. “Easy, that’s my good girl.” He praises you, pressing gentle kisses against your neck. “My good omega. Take my knot so well.” 

Your vision slowly fades to darkness as exhaustion takes over, a small smile tugging at your lips from his praise. 

His eyes are dark and glazed as he stares up at you, mouth parted as he breathes heavily. Your head is thrown back, the sweetest little moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you bounce on his cock. His hands hold your hips, far too tight to be comfortable against your sweat-soaked skin as he guides your movements, but you offer no complaint. His thighs are soaked with your slick and a mix of fluids that seems to endlessly drip from you. Your own thighs are shaking around him, exhaustion prevalent in your sloppy movements. You’re close, eyes fluttering as your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your nails bite into his skin but he doesn’t care. He can’t feel much of anything but pleasure at the moment. 

He guides you through your orgasm as it rocks through you, your body shuddering around him. His hips press up against yours as he reaches his own end, spilling into you as his knot locks into place, connecting you two once again. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, nor does he care. All he wants is to be inside you, fucking his seed into you until you’re swollen with it. He stares down at where you’re connected for a moment, your pussy spread open around his knot.

He guides you against his chest as your body gives out, the haze of his instincts lifting just momentarily. His body aches, soreness settling in as his mind clears. You lick at his throat, tasting his sweat-slicked skin. Sweet little whimpers and whines leave your lips as you rest against him, completely boneless and at his mercy.

He reaches over to the nightstand, wrapping an arm around you to hold you still so he doesn’t tug on the knot as he grabs the bottle of electrolytes. He unscrews the cap, gently easing you back. You’re both still breathing heavily as he cradles the back of your head with one hand, helping you drink the electrolytes. You gulp it down even in your exhausted state, your body recognizing its need for sustenance. 

He drinks the rest after you finish, tossing the bottle onto the floor with the others. He picks up one of the nutrient bars, peeling the wrapper off before he begins to eat, feeding you bites of it as he does. You’re half asleep, chewing slowly as you rest against his chest, body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of another of what’s now a countless number of orgasms. 

He gives you the last little bit of the bar before he relaxes back against the headboard, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you. The skin on your shoulder is still angry and slightly swollen from his claiming bite. It doesn’t help that he’s sunk his teeth into that spot twice now since he first claimed you. 

He swells with pride upon seeing it, the proof that you’re now his, a warning to others not to mess with you. It’s a slight weight off his shoulders. He has to worry less about someone trying something. Some haughty, cocksure alpha getting it through his head that he wants what he can’t have, that he can just take what’s not his. A low growl rumbles through his chest at the thought. 

He shushes you as you stir in response to the warning growl, a purr rumbling through his chest as he eases you back into a relaxed state. His good little omega, his sweet little omega, taking his knot so well. 

You make a quiet noise as he twitches inside you, the feeling of being enveloped in your tight heat almost like heaven. He closes his eyes, calming his inner alpha. He knows you need to rest. You need a little break before you start up again, before your heat continues to ravage you. 

Before he continues to ravage you. 

NEXT ->

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[pyrrhiccomedy]

If you have the time, I have a physics question that has been breaking my brain. What exactly is energy?

I've tried so hard to wrap my head around it but even all the engineering dads of youtube can't make me understand.

The thing with physics is that the simpler something is, the harder it is to put it into words. Energy is almost as simple as it gets. The textbook definition of energy is just "the capacity for something to move against a force," but that's not satisfying, because it's too simple. So let's try something else.

Think back to the Big Bang. What was the Big Bang made of?

Particles, right? Just a lot of particles. We didn't even have hydrogen yet, that would take about 400,000 years. In fact for the first few microseconds, we didn't even have protons and neutrons and electrons, we just had quarks and gluons. The stuff of the Big Bang - the stuff you could touch - was just particles.

Where did those particles go?

You know: into stuff. Everything around you is made of those particles. I mean, by weight, less than 1% of all matter in the universe is solid stuff, but you get it, right? The planets and the stars and dark matter and black holes and penguins and sunflowers and you and me are all made out of those particles.

But the Big Bang wasn't just "a bunch of particles." "A bunch of particles" would just...sit there. If the singularity behind the Big Bang was just a bunch of particles, it would just be, like, a marble, or a block of tofu. It wouldn't have done anything.

Part of the difficulty of understanding energy is that we thought it was a substance for so long. Like, from the time when fire was put into the same category as earth, wind, and and water as one of the classical elements, up until, like, the 1850s. And talking about it like it's a substance and thinking about it like it's a substance is a tough habit to break. But it's not a substance. The Big Bang WAS only "made of" those particles. There wasn't anything else there. Physically it was just particles.

Those particles just had personal qualities. Like having a charming personality, and a good sense of humor. Intangible qualities. Two of them, specifically.

Their qualities were hot and fast. And hot is just fast but small! So really they only had one quality: an absolutely fucking stupid amount of FAST.

We've already covered where the particles went. That's all the stuff you see when you look around.

So where did the fast go?

That's energy. The single personal intangible quality possessed by the particles at the moment of the Big Bang. And energy can never be created or destroyed, right? So the fast isn't gone. All of the particles had fast, and so when they spread out, they took the fast with them, as they turned into atoms and chemicals and stuff.

All of the energy in the universe is just the fastness from that single moment of ignition, transforming and transforming into different expressions of motion.

Hope this helps.