#but as time went on and i became an adult and there's still not a single glimpse of light on the horizon. I can't focus on it anymore

[emypony]

.

[ebodebo]

Hot For Teacher!

—professor!simon riley teaching anatomy… MDNI

(DISCLAIMER: in this fic, the reader is getting their master's, so reader is an adult! that said, this is still a student-professor relationship, so beware!)

"I heard he was from Germany….or somewhere."

"He's probably sooo old."

"I can't find his rate my professor anywhere!"

"I heard he only has one leg!"

Murmurs can be heard spread around the room; your fellow graduates flooded the lecture hall seats, not an empty seat out of fifty in site. They were itching with anticipation and anxiously awaiting the arrival of your new gross anatomy professor, including yourself.

You were even more nervous than when you had to present your senior thesis for your bachelor's to four of the most knowledgeable, bright minds you had ever come into contact with.

That was intimidating, but this somehow feels worse. You find yourself sinking into the squeaky plastic chair, praying that whoever walks through that door is as gracious and kind as your last professor.

Heavy steps echoed down the hallway, slowly and steadily etching closer and closer to the room you sat in. Your eyes nervously shifted up to look at the wide open front door, and you tapped your foot, restlessly, to a non-existent beat in your head.

The footsteps became louder and louder until the man finally stood in the doorway, sparing the class not even a singular glance. He steadily turned to the right and walked up to the chalkboard, back towards the class, carefully etching something onto the board with a small piece of chalk.

The murmurs around the room seized as the screeching noise of the chalk against the board bounced off the walls and went straight into everyone's eardrums.

It was a quick, illegible scribble.

He set the piece of chalk down and turned to face the class, eyes roaming around the room, allowing you to get a better look at him.

He wore a black surgical mask just below his nose, covering his lips and jaw. And, God, was he tall. He had to be at least six-two, maybe even six-four. He wore a charcoal gray button-up tight enough to display his broad shoulders and buff biceps, with kaki cargo pants that did nothing to hide his thick thighs. 

Fuck, he was hot.

"Your last professor was quite lenient," his gravelly voice echoes around the room as he begins, leaning his hip on the table before him. "Don't expect that from me."

His eyes roamed some more, and the murmurs you heard about how hot he was seized as he spoke again. "If you think this class will be easy, you're sorely mistaken. Excellence is the bare minimum I expect from each of you," he sternly says. "I don't tolerate excuses. You're in the wrong place if you can't meet the deadlines."

You didn't know the first time meeting your professor would just end up with him lecturing you about his obscure conditions and rules like this was a damn military base.

You try to remember if this course was even required for your degree: it is.

"If you miss class, don't bother returning," he continues. The mood in the room had shifted entirely. There was no excitement left; it had been completely sucked out and replaced by regret and anguish. You swore you even saw some people with their computers quickly going to your university's directory, hoping they could still withdraw from a course.

"Lastly, mediocrity has no place in here. Push yourselves or find another course," he gruffed, pushing himself off the desk he leaned on and maneuvering back over to the chalkboard.

"What are the instructions on the board?" Your eyes snapped to a random girl raising her hand adjacent to you, and you were surprised by her bravery in speaking.

The professor glanced at the girl.

“Ah, yes. These are instructions on how to withdraw from this course if you so choose," he said. "Save me the headache and you, your dignity, and withdraw now if you cannot abide by my terms," he almost seemed disinterested. "Also, you will call me Dr. Riley."

He picked up the chalk, quickly etching a strand of words onto it. "These are my office hours," he says, setting the chalk back down. "Any questions?" He asked, turning to face the class.

Not a single peep can be heard. There was only a tiny squeak from one of the chairs. He crosses his arms. "Alright. Quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed," he concludes. You freeze up in your chair as everyone around you starts moving as quickly as possible to get out of there.

You're wondering what you learned today that could be material for a quiz. Instead of waiting behind to ask, you shuffle your things in a bag and speed walk out of there.

This was going to be a long semester.

It was three months in, and this class was kicking your ass. 

No, that's not right. The class was outwardly blistering your entire existence. You pulled countless all-nighters to try and keep up with the material, but it was too much. There weren't enough hours in the day to study the copious amount of material.

It didn't help that Dr. Riley was a bit of a dick. He gave no leniency. Can't make the exam? Too bad. F. Didn't make class? Yikes. Get ready to recite the last lecture in front of the class when you return! Can't answer a question he asks? Well, well, it looks like we have a slacker on our hands. Have a lovely time writing an entire essay on the topic question you failed to answer!

"Can anyone explain the process of bone repair following a fracture?" Dr. Riley questions, taking his eyes off the chalkboard and turning towards the now half-full class. You snap out of your daydream, carefully looking back to your computer to continue typing what he writes.

Everyone averts their eyes from him to avoid getting called on. "No takers?" He asks once more, eyes narrowing slightly. You look over the top of your computer, eyes wondering over the messy array of notes he wrote to try and decipher them. "You," he says, flicking a finger towards you. "Give it a go."

Your eyes flick to his before widening in horror. Shit. You hadn't even gone over this week's slides because you were still working on the hundreds of slides from last week. 

"Preferably today," he raises a brow, impatience written all over his face, crossing his arm over his chest. You take a deep breath, quickly scan your notes, and sublimely thank God you found what you needed.

"Well, first the bone goes through clot formation, then callus formation, then new bone tissue forms, then finally the bone remodels," you explain, issuing a polite smile after you finish, breathing out a sigh of relief as he nods.

"Uh-huh. It's a very interesting process. And do you know which of those processes has the longest duration?" He says blandly. You tilt your head a little, surprised to see he has another question.

"Well, I think that would be the bone remodeling," you affirm, shifting in your seat a little.

"And the shortest?" He quickly supplements. 

"Clot formation?" You say unsurely. 

"You seem unsure of your answer. Do you truly think it is clot formation?" He crosses his arms over his chest. 

You were sure of it, but then again, why would he ask you if you thought it was wrong if it was right? You open your eyes wider, almost like you have just had an epiphany. "I—no. It's callus formation," you say matter-of-factly.

"Incorrect," he says, uncrossing his arms and turning his back to you. "I suggest trusting your instincts next time." You sink deeper into your chair, hoping that somehow it will shield you from his scrutiny. 

"On that note, class dismissed." You quickly gather your belongings, but not before Dr. Riley pulls you aside to assign you a three-page, single-spaced essay about the formation of a bone after having a fracture due in two days.

"Also, be sure to discuss clot formation heavily," his voice carries a condescending tone. "So that when you present to the class, they understand the concept better than you did." 

Your brows furrow a little. "Wait, I do understand—" You begin, though he interrupts.

"That's all," he cooly says, turning to grab his things from the desk in the front before switching the light switch off and stepping around you to leave the room. "See you and your paper Wednesday." You scowled as he turned away from you to go to his office.

This was such bullshit. You answered all his question, but God forbid you answer one incorrectly—well, not even incorrectly; he just made you feel it was wrong.

This was far from over.

"Dr. Riley. I, um, I don't understand why I have to write an essay," you found yourself saying later that day in his office, around six p.m. or so, when most of the faculty had already called it a night and left. His eyes stayed laser-focused on some papers he was going over.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, scribbling something on the paper. 

You find yourself coming in, shutting the door behind you, and sitting on the chair before his desk. "Yes, I did. I answered all one hundred of them," you say matter-of-factly. The corners of his eyes crinkle as they finally flick to yours, clearly amused by your exaggeration. 

"One hundred, huh?" He sets the pen down, leaning back in his chair, threading his fingers together. Your eyes wander to his arms. He had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his veiny forearms covered in tattoos. 

You flick your eyes back to eyes in a panic, praying he didn't notice you essentially checking him out. "Yes, sir," you tried to keep your voice even.

"So, you want out of an essay I assigned to you? 

"I—well. I was hoping…" You trail off, eyes averting his.

"No," his tone is authoritative, final. You release a small breath, sagging into the chair, feeling defeated. However, you caught your eyes wandering back to his forearms before moving up to his biceps. Fuck. They would have busted out of his button-down if they were any bigger.

He was a massive asshole. But, so fucking hot nonetheless. Had the most enormous thighs and arms you'd ever seen. Taller than anyone you'd ever met. Had a gruff, thick English accent you drooled over. Not to mention his raging ego, which did something for you.

"What is it?" Your eyes snap to his. Oh, God. Not again. 

"Nothing," you said quickly. He looked puzzled. You sat back in the chair, smiling awkwardly. He followed, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs wider to get more comfortable.

You find your eyes drifting down, observing his clothed cock in his pants. "Nothing? Huh?" The corner of his lip quirks. You stare back at him; your face is hot, and your hands are clammy.

This time, there was no denying what it was you were ogling so intently. 

"Listen," he sits up a bit, placing his elbows on his desk and threading his fingers together. "I sympathize with your situation." You raise a brow because there is no way in hell he was sympathetic. His lip quips at your expression. "So, I believe I have a solution to your dilemma." That has you perking up in your seat, feeling a sense of hope.

"It's a bit...unorthodox," he mumbles, eyes boring into yours.

You squint your eyes in confusion. "Okay..." You trail off uneasily, sitting up a little straighter. "What did you have in mind?" He tilts his head up a little, carefully observing your face, before standing up and gripping the knot of the tie and carefully pulling it down so it rests lazily on his sternum. 

"Tell me," he prompts, easing his way around his desk to lean against the side you sit in front of. "What is it that caught your attention earlier?" You raise a brow, not only at his new position but also at his question.

"Pardon?" You prod. He lets out a small, scruffy, breathy laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and showcasing his huge biceps again. You release a slight breath as your eyes wander back to his arms. He tilts his head back as he examines your facial expression, dragging his eyes down your line of sight. He gives a breathy laugh as he realizes you are shamelessly checking him out. 

"Mhm," he hums. You snap your eyes to him in an instant, though this time you aren't embarrassed at the notion of him catching you. No. You wanted him to notice. Maybe, just maybe, then he'd finally find the courage to fuck you over his desk like you'd wanted since the first day he had arrived. "Your mind seems elsewhere," he observes.

"No, I'm—I'm just thinking," you whir, sitting in your chair.

He tilts his head back slightly. "What about?" His tone dripped with condescendence. He most definitely knew. He could read you like one of those fancy anatomy books he frequented. You lean back in your chair, legs spreading ever so slightly. His eyes glided to leer at your slightly agape legs. 

God, you had on that little fucking skirt you wore every so often. The damned thing was a couple of pieces of denim fabric. Not too short, but, ya, if you opened your legs at just the right angle, you could get a nice shot of your panties underneath. How lucky for your professor, who was at the receiving end of that.

"Oh, I don't know. Just things, you know?" You spread your legs just a little wider, and you swear you hear him release a breath. "It's the first day of fall tomorrow. Did you know that?" You casually say, spreading your legs that much further so he could get a better view of the wet spot already growing in your panties at him watching you. 

"I did." His voice was dry; he was surprised to get a damn word out. 

"Crazy, huh? Also, I'm thinking about our lecture tomorrow. What's it going to be on anyway?" You find yourself dragging your hand up your leg to the buttons of your shirt, carefully unclasping each of them gently. He could feel his cock straining against his jeans seeing you, legs spread, fingers fiddling with your cute little button-up top with frilly sleeves.

"Sexual reproduction," he gruffs, fingers moving to undo the buttons on his shirt. You get the final button of your shirt unclasped, carefully sliding it off and onto the floor, revealing a lacy bra that matches your panties. You honestly thought you'd be more nervous, but with a guy that hot and educated staring at you like you were the sexiest thing alive, how could you be?

"Maybe I should get a head-start, no?" You proposed as he unclasped his final button, slipping his shirt entirely off. Good-God. The man was chiseled and hairy. The scars etched into his skin only made him that much sexier. He reached for his tie next. "No, no. Leave it on," you voice, getting up from your chair to stand before him. 

His greedy hands instantly sought refuge on your waist, dragging his fingertips along the waistband of your panties, giving them a little pull. You release a slight whine as the elastic slaps back onto your skin.

"Like fuckin' music to my ears," he groans, pulling you flush to his body, ripping his mask off to encapsulate your lips with his hungry ones. 

You yelp into his mouth at the sudden sensation, though you find yourself getting into a rough rhythm. His hand's paw at your ass as yours covetously grips his shoulders. Although you were flush against him, you sought more contact. "I need—I need," you whined in his mouth. 

"Need me to what? Say it," he urged, hands slipping to thread through your hair, pulling it gently. Your mouth falls agape at the action, allowing him to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan into his mouth once more.

"I need you to—to," you stutter, unable to speak from how out of breathe you were.

"Say it," he hissed, pulling your hair harder.

"Fuck me. Please," you finally managed to say. He wasted no time picking you up by the back of the thighs and hastily placing you on his desk, flinging the loose papers and books that dawned it on the floor.

You reached between you to undo his belt and pant button as he slipped your panties down so they dangled loosely around your ankles. 

Your lips never disconnecting once. 

Once you got his pants undown and he your panties, he gripped your waist, hoisting you so he could pound his cock into you. You both moan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck," he groans, "Feel so good." You press your lips back to his as he makes work pummeling into you, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips to get as much friction as he can.

You were sure you'd have purple and blue bruises tomorrow.

He brings his mouth to nip and kiss at the side of your neck, his teeth gently grazing against the sensitive skin. "Drivin' me fuckin' insane," he grits, teeth nipping your skin again. You whined, bringing your hands to thread through his hair.

"I drive you insane?" You breathe out, dumbfounded, his cock still sliding in and out of you at a hurried pace. His tongue brushes your neck until it reaches your lips, quickly bullying itself into the sanctity of your mouth.

"Such a good student. Aren't you?" He gruffs into your lips; your mouth hangs agape at the feeling of him in you. "Always do such good work. Don't you, sweetheart?" You moan at his words; he presses a thumb to stimulate your clit. "Fuck—you, you drive me mad," he grits, moving his thumb faster.

You let a string of incoherent words, too caught up with his cock in you and thumb on you to form any real words.

"Huh? Ya, ya. But you must know that already. Or else you wouldn't have worn this—" he signals to the matching bra and panty set you had worn, "to meet with me," he finishes. You respond with another pathetic whimper, feeling your impending climax.

The moment he whispers into the shell of your ear, "Better come quick, or I may change my mind about that paper," you're a goner. You clamp around him at record speed, gripping his shoulders impossibly tighter, as you loudly moan in his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips as his orgasm chases yours.

It takes both of you a second to catch your breaths, both heaving and chests rising with much pace. After you have caught your breath, he helps ease you off his desk, deftly reaching for your panties that slipped off your ankles in a frenzy and softly putting them back on you, followed by your skirt resting on the floor nearby.

You slipped your shirt back on, buttoning it as he focused on dressing himself. It didn't feel awkward like you had thought it was going to. Sure, it was quiet, but it was comforting.

You grabbed your bookbag, giving him a slight smile as you walked over to the closed door. "I appreciate you meeting with me. See you tomorrow, Dr. Riley," you kindly say.

He nodded, pulling his tie to rest neatly on his neck. "Don't forget about the paper," he plainly said, moving to pick up some of the loose papers on the floor.

A confused expression overtook your face. "I thought—" you began.

"I don't play favorites, sweetheart," he interrupted. "Write the paper."

Okay, he was still a dick, but oh well, sure, you'd write the damn paper, maybe even put a couple of errors in it so that he could deduct some points off, and you could request to meet with him again.

Ya, that sounded like a fine plan indeed.

a/n: inspired by a lovely who commented on my poll about professor!simon <33 @aiqsa (this took me so long omg)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[ririkookiemonster]

Be with me- JJK

Summary: Breaking up with Jungkook was supposed to be your freedom from his obsession, but he’s never been one to let go easily. His presence lingers, stalking you even in places you thought were safe. When you finally agree to meet him after the break up, what should have been a simple talk turns into a moment where you 'keep your promise'.

Pairing: yandere ex bf jungkook x ex gf y/n

Genre: smut

Warnings: yandere tendencies, unprotected sex, jk is a freak, dirty talk, voyeurism, rough sex, manipulation, stalking, dub con, sex while being unconscious, recording while fucking, tit slapping, name calling, nipple sucking, groping, jerking off, cumming inside, fighting, jungkook is crazy about yn.

Word count: 8.4k+

Writer: riri🧞

Writer's note: ⚠️this fic contains sensitive contents, which may be triggering to some readers, including adults. please refrain from reading if any of the warnings trigger you. if you still proceed to read my fic, you're on your own. i will not be responsible for your ass, respectfully.⚠️

🖇️MASTERLIST🖇️

🖇️CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED IN MY TAGLIST🖇️

You knew you were royally fucked when you laid in your ex’s arms that night, him stroking your hair softly as he drew invisible circles on the small of your back. This was it again. He was back in your life. You let him. You didn’t had a choice.

Thats when you realized

The only way to get rid of Jungkook,

Was to be with Jungkook...

You were a beautiful woman, with big eyes, a perfect body, pearly white teeth, and certainly popular among men. Jungkook absolutely hated how other men ogled you. You were his woman, not theirs. He couldn’t stand how you laughed with your male friends, or how your girlfriends giggled whenever a man eyed you from head to toe. He despised it. And you hated how overprotective he was.

His intense jealousy often ruined social events, and slowly, you began to isolate yourself from friends. You feared his angry outbursts more than you enjoyed your social life.

“Why were you talking to him for so long? Don’t you know how much it hurts me to see you with someone else? You belong with me, only me.”

He insisted on knowing your whereabouts, your schedules, and even installed a tracking app on your phone, claiming it was for your own safety. Jungkook loved you so much that he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting into any ‘trouble’. The world was too dangerous.

“I just worry about you so much. This way, I can always make sure you’re safe. You don’t mind, do you? It’s because I love you.”

His constant checking on you started to feel more like surveillance than care. You hated it, but you loved him.

At first, you found his constant attention flattering, but his possessive grip on your hand felt tighter with each passing day, as if he feared you might slip away if he let go.

“I can’t stand being away from you for even a moment. The thought of anyone else seeing you, talking to you… it drives me crazy. You’re mine, and I need you to know that.”

Jungkook wasn’t always like this, you swore to your friends. You knew he was a great boyfriend. They just didn’t know him the way you did. He took care of you, wanted to protect you from everything in this world. You were his heart. He often bought you gifts to show his love for you. You loved when he gave you a beautiful necklace, a token of his love for you that you were supposed to wear all the time.

“This necklace is a piece of my heart, Y/N. I want you to wear it always, so everyone knows you’re taken. Promise me you won’t ever take it off.”

As time went by, what seemed like a romantic gesture became a chain, a constant reminder of his possessiveness and ownership over you. Jungkook would get so upset if you ever forgot to wear it. Why did you have to remove it in the first place? Didn’t you love him enough to keep his necklace close to your heart?

“He’s too controlling!” your friends said, but Jungkook wasn’t controlling. He just wanted you to himself. You’re his girlfriend, right?

Jungkook wasn’t possessive or controlling, but he didn’t like when you snapped at him for being too possessive and controlling. Mind you, he was just teaching the guy a lesson for asking to buy you a drink. He had to teach him a lesson. So what if he broke his nose? So what if he threw a few punches? Nobody flirts with HIS woman.

“he wasn’t flirting with me!”

“Oh, shut up, Y/N! He clearly wanted to get into your pants!” Jungkook snapped.

You scoffed at his remark. Was he serious? So what if the man was flirting? He didn’t know you were taken. And even if he did, he didn’t deserve to get beaten up so brutally that the bar had to kick you both out and ban your entry in the future.

“This happens every time, Y/N! Every. fucking. time!” Jungkook was fuming.

“I don’t like it when they see you like you’re a piece of meat. Can’t you see how beautiful you are, baby? A body so flawless, men can’t help but be drawn to you. You’re mine… and I don’t like to share what’s mine…”

Damn. There he was again, turning a heated argument into an emotional conversation in the blink of an eye. You hated how smooth he was, how he’d come closer and wrap his arms around you, whispering sweet apologies in your ear. You hated how you always gave in to his embrace. It was like this every time. Your friends wanted you to break up with him, but he always had you like this. In his arms, where he glided his hand down to cup your ass firmly, giving it a possessive squeeze.

You hated how hot he was… so uncontrollably hot. And you hated how this night was going to end… yet again.

“F-fuck!” you whimpered at the animalistic pace Jungkook was pounding into you. Jungkook groans as your cunt wraps around him so wet and perfectly, grinding on him back and forth.

“You love it slut? Looking like a cock hungry slut for my dick. Gonna bust my nut right fucking now because of how wet you are.” Jungkook groaned, maintaining his pace, pounding hard and fast into to.

“O-only for y-your dick daddy! so big and hard” you mewled, a tiny droplet of tear falling out of your eye at the pleasure.

Jungkook was fucking good at fucking good.

“Yeah? gonna make make you cum so hard whore, you’ll forget your own name.” He moaned out, not slowing down his face. He loved the dirty talk during sex. and so did you. it was fucking hot.

Jungkook knew you were close when he felt you tightening around him. He took his camera, like he always did, and turned it on to record your precious expressions of the pleasure that he gave you.

He loved recording you.

And you loved to get recorded.

Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Looked so fucking cock riding out your climax as your face contorted, letting out a thread of profanities from your mouth. He loved to keep a record of your beautiful tapes. Only for hime; Only for his eyes to see.

He kissed your temple lightly, cradling you in his arms after doing the deed. You looked so angelic after the afterglow.

“You did so amazing baby… so pretty moaning my name like that. i could listen to you for years.” Jungkook said, playing her tape, replaying her sweet moans again and again. Fuck, he means when he says that.

“Tell me Y/N, would you let me record you sleeping, baby…?”

You hummed lightly, lying boneless in his arms humming at whatever stupid request he was making. You were used to him rambling, you had jeon wrapped around your fingers.

“Really babe? you'd let me fucking record you while i use your body while you're asleep?”

Jungkook asked, excitement evident in his voice. Just the thought of recording your tape while youre sleeping… it turned him on so much.

“Promise me Y/N. You wont back off, right?”

“Alright, baby…” you murmured softly, your voice laced with exhaustion.

“You can’t back off now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, eliciting another sleepy hum from you. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his fingers gently combing through your soft locks until you slipped into a much-needed, peaceful slumber. After what felt like an eternity, he carefully disentangled himself from your embrace and sat up, his back resting against the headboard of your bed.

Jungkook reached over to the nightstand, picking up his camera with a reverent touch. He lowered the volume to ensure your sleep remained undisturbed. His eyes gleamed with possessive pride as he played the video he had recorded just moments ago. Your face, captured in the throes of pleasure he had bestowed upon you, was a sight that fueled his obsession. He couldn’t resist the allure of watching his recordings of you over and over. To him, you looked utterly captivating, a vision of raw sensuality.

He was consumed by an all-encompassing obsession. He’d rewind the tapes countless times just to hear his name fall from your lips again. Each repetition sent shivers of satisfaction down his spine. He could lose himself in those recordings for days, weeks, even months, relishing in the intimacy they captured.

Only he deserved to see you like this. Only he had the right to make you scream in ecstasy. Only he was entitled to touch you in such intimate ways. He wanted to be the sole possessor of your every touch, every glance, every breath. The thought of anyone else witnessing your beauty, your vulnerability, was unbearable. You were his. His woman. He was your lover, your protector, your everything. Only he deserved to see your pictures and videos.

Hell, only he deserved to see you at all...

7:47 PM

You turned your phone screen off after checking the time, stretching your back as you rubbed your sore eyes. You got up from your chair, feeling your spine crackle and pop with relief. After all, you had been hunched over your laptop for the past two hours, grinding away at your English assignment. Even though they were enjoyable in their own way, but they could be a real headache, especially when it came to meeting Professor Smith's sky-high standards. She was a tough cookie, but thats what made her challenging assignments even more interesting. You wandered over to the window, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air and clear your head now that you were free for the rest of the weekend.

You were hungry. After working your ass off on that assignment, you were finally free for the rest of the weekend. There was nothing better than cooking up something for yourself and sinking down on your bed to watch Bridgerton. The night was still young. You could hear the faint sounds of crickets coming from your bedroom windows, even though they were locked. you slowly opened the windows and felt the cool air caressing your face in the moonlight. You loved summer nights. You loved how lively they were and how the cool breeze flowed through the balcony of your apartment building, even though it was a hot season.

You slipped on your slippers, intent on cooking something quick for the night, when the faint glow of your phone screen caught your eye, indicating a notification received on silent mode. Curiosity piqued, you picked it up and saw a new message from an unknown number. The message was short, just a few cryptic words that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t shake the strange feeling that crept up in your chest as you read it, like someone unseen was watching, waiting for your response.

[Unknown]: “All done with work, baby?”

You didn’t know who this person was or how they knew you were free now. A strange unease settled over you, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was curiosity, or perhaps a nagging sense of denial that urged you to dismiss "it". Taking a slow, deep breath, you hesitated before finally deciding to text the person back.

[You]: “Who is this?”

You hit the send button after which you got a reply almost immediately.

[Unknown]: “It’s me, babe. JK.”

So it was him again. “What did he want now?" You muttered to yourself, a mix of frustration and anxiety rising within. It had been three months since you finally ended things with him, discovering the invasive cameras he had installed in your home to monitor your every move. He didn't stop there; he even sabotaged your social media, deleting precious memories and controlling what you could share, claiming you were only meant for "his eyes" to see. You couldn't tolerate his manipulative and possessive behavior any longer, and that was when you finally decided to cut ties for good.

You still remembered how he acted up on the day you decided to end things with him...

“You cant do this to me! I love you!”

“I don’t care Jungkook! What you did was unforgivable. We’re done.”

Your words broke Jungkook. His hands were shaking, eyes filled with tears. He gave you your everything and you were breaking up with him, like nothing mattered to you. All he wanted was to protect you from everyone. You were his.

“No, we’re not done, Y/N. We are not done.”

He sees you stand near the window, looking out at the city lights, your arms crossed defensively. He’s sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on you, a mix of desperation and anger in his gaze.

"I can't do this anymore. This-whatever this is-it's not love. It's suffocating.” You declared, your voice firm.

"I did all of that because I love you, dammit! I can't stand the thought of anyone else seeing you, touching you, being near you. You're mine, and I need to protect yo—“

”Protect me!? Really, Jungkook?” You scoff, turning to look at him, all desperate. You knew he was shaking, but didn’t know why. It could be sadness, anger or desperation. But you refused to gave in. “Protect me by Sabotaging my social media? Protect me by tracking my phone? By deleting my online presence? You deleted my emails, Jungkook!”

“This isn’t true, baby. I just want the best for you, pleas—”

“Get out of my house, Jungkook.” You cut Jungkook off. You knew you had pissed him off, but this needed to be done.

Jungkook didn’t like how straight off asked him to leave your apartment. You never told him what to do. so why now? he didn’t like it one bit. He stood up abruptly, knocking over the coffee table in his anger. His face contorted with rage and desperation.

"You can't leave me! I won't let you. You need me. No one else will love you like I do. You know that." Jungkook spat. “If you loved me, You’d have known i was doing this for us, Y/N! Goddamit!”

You flinched at his words, but your relsove did not harden.

“Get out before i report you for stalking and spying”

Jungkook’s face hardened.

“so you’ll report my love now, huh?" He narrowed his eyes, taking some calculative steps towards you.

“You’ll get no one, Y/N mark my words. No one who’ll love you like me. I have always loved you. I have always cared you for you. I have always wanted to protect you. cant you see that baby? i have always loved you, my angel. I can change, just give me a chance…” He spoke, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

You flinched at his touch, your resolve hardening. You did feel a little sad about the situation, but you knew you had to do it. You had to distance yourself from him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t healthy.

"It's too late for that. You need help, and I can't give it to you. Leave.”

“You think you’ll ever find someone like me, little brat? No one will want you! Because they dont love you the way i do! so stop being a bitch.”

“Jungkook. leave.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and fury.

“This isn’t over, Y/N.” Jungkook spoke as hep turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jungkook didn’t take the breakup well. He was absolutely shattered when you ended things with him. He never expected it from you, and the shock was too much for him to handle. In the days following the breakup, his messages became relentless. He would text you at all hours, begging you to take him back, saying he couldn’t imagine life without you. At first, you tried to respond politely, but his persistence became overwhelming. It felt like every time you looked at your phone, there was another message from him, each one more desperate than the last. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. His constant pleas were starting to get under your skin, and you needed space to move on. So, you blocked his number, hoping that would be the end of it. Since then, the silence had been a relief. But a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he had really given up, or if he was just biding his time.

Till today.

He was texting you with a new number…

[You]: What do you want, Jungkook?

[Unknown]: i just want to talk, Y/N.

[Unknown]: please...

[You]: No

[Unknown]: i want to make it right baby… i am not asking you to take me back. just please see me this once.

[Unknown]: just want a closure

[Unknown]: if you ever loved me you’d do this

[Unknown]: lets talk for the last time baby

[Unknown]: like adults

You sighed reading his messages. You knew he was watching you. there was no point in ignoring him. you just wanted to get this over with. You still loved jungkook but staying together with him was a BIG NO for you. You took a deep breath and typed out your next text.

[You]: Just talk right?

[Unknown]: yesss baby just wanna talk. don’t expect you to take me back

[Unknown]: miss your face

[Unknown]: let me see you for the last time :(

[Unknown]: i am outside your apartment building. know you are free right now.

[You]: Fine. But dont get your hopes up.

[Unknown]: i wont, i wont baby. be right there

You nervously started fidgeting around your room, playing with your fingers and pacing back and forth. It was sinking in just how dumb a decision you had made by inviting your ex over to talk. Not just any ex, but him. Jungkook. The thought of him coming over filled you with a mix of dread and curiosity. How did he even know you were free right now? You decided to push that unsettling question aside, focusing instead on the fact that Jungkook could arrive at any moment.

In a rush, you dashed to the bathroom to brush your tangled hair, hoping to look at least somewhat presentable, regardless of your relationship status. Anxiety spread through your body like wildfire as you heard the doorbell ring.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jungkook was here.

And YOU gave him the permission to do so.

But you wanted to get this over with. nothing else. theres no way you and jungkook would get back together, he knew that too. it was just a friendly talk and you both will part ways after that. Taking a deep breath, you slowly walked over to the door.

Heart pounding, you opened the door to find Jungkook standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he greeted softly, holding up a takeout bag. "I brought us some food.

Thought we could eat and talk things through."

Food. Were we going to have a long chat?

You forced a smile, stepping aside to let him in. "Hey, thanks. That's really thoughtful of you." As he walked past, you caught a whiff of his familiar cologne, stirring up a whirlwind of memories.

You both settled on the couch, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

Jungkook unpacked the food, handing you a container. "I got your favorite teokbokki" he said, his voice gentle, almost apologetic. "I remember you always loved this place."

He remembers…

You took the container, your hands trembling slightly. "Thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it." You hadn't eaten all day and your stomach growled in protest, but a part of you was reluctant to accept anything from him.

Jungkook noticed your hesitation and frowned slightly. "What's wrong? He questioned. “You don't trust me?"

Absolutely not.

"It's not that," you lied, forcing a laugh. "I'm just not that hungry."

His eyes darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. "Come on, just a few bites. I promise, it's safe. I wont kill you or something." He said nonchalantly, making you gasp. You didn’t trust this man one bit. But you needed to get things over with.

Reluctantly, you picked up a fork and poked at the food. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you gave in. "Fine, but just a little." The corners of Jungkook’s lips turned upward at your decision.As you took a bite, Jungkook watched you intently, a strange glint in his eyes. "See? Not so bad, right?" You nodded, chewing slowly. "Yeah, it's good."

He relaxed slightly,opening his own container and taking a bite. "I've missed you, you know," he admitted after a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "I know things ended badly between us, but l've been thinking about you a lot."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "I've missed you too, Jungkook. But a lot has happened. It's not that simple. Especially after what you did. it makes me want to rethink my choices that why even are you in my house in the first place."

"I know," he replied, his voice earnest. "But i love you, Y/N. i really do. I might a been a little controlling but i never thought anything bad about you. I just wanted to look out for you, baby.” Jungkook sighed, before continuing. “But I want to make it right. I want to fix things between us."

You continued to eat, each bite filling your empty stomach but doing little to ease your nerves. The food tasted a little strange, but you brushed it off, just like you brushed off his bullshit. You didn’t wanna have this ‘i DiD wHaT i DiD bEcAUsE i LoVe YoU’.

"So, what have you been up to?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Just the usual," he said, shrugging. "Work, gym, thinking about you. You know, the usual."

You laughed lightly, though it felt forced. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

After a few minutes of normal conversation. You did ease yourself a little in his presence. He didn’t seem too persuasive. Maybe he really just wanted to have a conversation. Though, it was unlike Jungkook but he did seem less Jungkook-ish this evening. And it wasn’t normal.

a normal Jungkook, a normal conversation and this bad headache.

Nothing was normal.

You started to feel dizzy, your vision blurring. "Jungkook... I don't feel so good," you mumbled, dropping your fork. Jungkook's expression shifted, a frown forming on his lips, along with a crease forming between his eyebrows. He was worried.

But was he? A hint of something dark flashing in his eyes. But he didn’t wanted to show it to you. Yet.

"Maybe you should lie down," he suggested, his voice smooth. "I'll take care of you." He said, getting up to hold you by your shoulders lightly.You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, and Jungkook caught you, his grip firm.

“Shh… its okay… you’re gonna be alright. Just a little headache and dizziness for an hour or so. you wont get unconscious, don’t worry baby.” He cooed, slowly guiding you towards your bedroom

Panic started to rise as you started to breathe heavy, your body growing heavier. Though you were still conscious, you had almost no control over your body. “What did you do?" you whispered.

"Shh," he soothed, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he laid you on the bed. "It's just something to help you relax. We need to talk, really talk, without any distractions. Gotta talk about your fake promises that you made with me, pudding."

Your vision blurred, and you fought to stay in control. "Jungkook, please..."

Your vision swam as Jungkook's words echoed in your ears, his tone shifting from gentle persuasion to something more intense. "I did everything to love you. Protect you. even built a shrine for our love." he murmured, his grip tightening on your arm. "But you left me. You broke your promise."

Fear and confusion clouded your mind, but his proximity and the drug's effects left you unable to resist. "Jungkook…" you managed weakly, your voice barely audible. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"I can't let you go, i wont let you go," he whispered, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "You made a huge mistake by breaking up with me, Y/N. And i’ll make you regret it today. You’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Despite the fear of his threat, a part of you recognized the desperation in his eyes, a twisted kind of love. obsession.

"Okay," you finally breathed out weakly, hoping to calm him down, to keep yourself safe. Maybe agreeing was the safest option for now, a way to gain his trust. Deep down, you knew this was far from over, you played along, hoping to keep yourself safe from his dangerously twisted self.

His expression softened slightly, a manic gleam in his eyes as he pulled you closer. "I knew you'd understand. Had no choice. Gotta love you some more. Need to keep our promises alive." he murmured, a dangerous edge to his voice. Though his embrace was not something you should enjoy at the moment, you felt a surge of relief mixed with dread.

Your mind raced as Jungkook's grip on you tightened, his words cutting through the haze of the drug. "You're mine, Y/N." he whispered, his voice a chilling blend of possessiveness and longing. "No one else can have you."

You forced yourself to stay calm, nodding weakly in agreement."I know, Jungkook, I belong to you.” You managed to say, your voice trembling.

He nodded, a dark satisfaction crossing his features. "That's right," he murmured, his hand trailing possessively down your arm. "We'll fix everything. Just you and me."

You flinched inwardly at the intensity of his gaze, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I'm sorry for leaving, kookie. I couldn’t see how much you were looking out for me." you offered softly, desperate to placate him, to find a way out of this nightmare.

Kookie. He missed that. He smiled, a hint of warmth in his gaze, contradicting his devious smile.

"You'll make it up to me, I won't let you go again." He insisted, his voice firm.

As his words sank in, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You knew this wasn't right, that you shouldn't have to endure this kind of control. But for now, you had to play along You were drugged by this man. And he was crazy.

Jungkook leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine forever," he breathed, his grip on you unyielding. "And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you." Fear mingled with resignation as you nodded weakly, hoping beyond hope that this little act of yours would finally set you free in the future.

"You have to understand," Jungkook continued, his voice low and urgent. "I can't let anyone else have you. If you try to leave again, I'll... I'll do things you wouldn't like, and you know how persuasive i can be, baby…" His words sent a chill down your spine, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

"Kookie, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just needed some time."

His expression darkened, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. "Time? You had all the time in the world with me," he growled softly.

"But you ignored everything i did for you, Chose to walk away. You made me promise things, and you broke them."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words, to calm him down without provoking him further, despite being hazed. "I'm sorry," you slurred, your voice breaking. "I never meant to hurt you, baby…"

He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and searching.

"I know," he finally said, his tone softening slightly. "That's why l'm giving you another chance…”

You sighed in relief, only to gasp after.

“Remember babe? You promised to let me record you…sleeping”

“P-promised you…?

“Tell me Y/N, would you let me record you sleeping, baby…?”

You hummed lightly, lying boneless in his arms.

“Really babe? youd let me fucking record you while i use your body while you’re asleep?”

“Promise me Y/N. You wont back off, right?”

“Alright, baby…”

“You can’t back off now.”

“Y/N?” Jungkook shaked you lightly, dizziness evident in your eyes.

“Yeah..?”

“I wanna fuck you and record you while you’re asleep. You wanted to earn my forgiveness, right? We can start off by completing the promises you made.” Jungkook said, almost in a quiet tone, staring right into your eyes.

You gulped in nervousness over his words. You had no choice.

You wanted to save yourself from Jungkook

and that could be only done

by being Jungkook’s…

You nodded sofly, a hint of small smile playing on your lips, as you stared at his beautiful brown eyes.

Jungkook looks so sweet. Too sweet that you almost forgot who he really is.

“Of course kookie… I’d do anything to earn your forgiveness…”

Jungkook slowly slumps down your unconscious body on the bed. He felt a surge of excitement, as he was finally be able to do what he had been wanting to, from a long time, and youd finally be able to keep your promise.

Promises aren’t meant to be broken, you both know that. Jungkook loved how he still had you in his arms even after everything that happened. Thats the power of the shrine he made at his home of your knick knacks. He knew his love held an immense power as you, the love of his life had finally decided to open your eyes and see what Jungkook was doing for you.

He was your savior. Your lover. Your life.

If it hadn’t been him, you’d have been so lost. so hurt, so vulnerable, so messed up. Mind you, you could have even be murdered by someone.

Or by Jungkook, if you weren’t his.

But you had Jungkook

He was your life. He knows it.

He stared down at your soft body, lying unconscious on your pink sheets, that smells like vanilla. Jungkook knew you loved him and wanted to prove it when you agreed to take on the sleeping pill 10 minutes ago. You were his. His to use, his to love, his to fuck.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to strip your clothes away from your body, laying you in nothing but your light pink cotton lingerie in front of his gaze. Even though he had seen you without them countless times, (well in the past), it felt like he went through a jolt of electricity, sending shivers straight to his spine, a smirk to his lips.

Jungkook's smirk turns into a wicked grin as he looks down at your unconscious body, his fingers staring to trace over the smooth texture of your skin. His eyes glint with excitement and desire, once seeing your fluffy breasts, his cock standing in salute.

"Fuck, you have amazing tits, baby..."

Jungkook mumbles to himself, as he takes a second to admire them before pulling your bra down to free your tits. Wasting no time, He leaned down, taking the soft flesh in his mouth, his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking softly, swallowing around it, tongue flicking it inside his mouth. They were for him to squeeze, kiss, lick and pinch, after all.

He couldn’t get enough of you, like ever. And so, for a brief moment, he pulled away, releasing your wet and tortured nub, as we walks to his drawers, taking out the same camera he used everytime you to did stuff together.

"This is going to be so fucking hot. I am going to make you mine again, baby. I missed you so much…"

Jungkook turned on the camera. The small red light near the lens indicated the video had started recording. Jungkook makes his way to the bed again, where you were lying there completely at his mercy. He slowly settles himself down beside you, moving the camera closer to your body, recording every inch of you as if he was doing it for the first time. It was Getting hot. You were hot. Jungkook gulped as he slowly removed his white tee, showing off his soft traces of abs and the tattooed arm. He added a few more to his sleeve tattoo collection when you two were not together. Jungkook turned on the air conditioner and sets the temperature on 24. Perfect.

He drifts his attention back to you, his hands move up to your already freed and sucked tits, touching and squeezing them, making sure to get a close-up. His mouth finds a way to your neck, taking in a whiff as he kissed it slowly, his lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stress.

He then moves his hand down to your panties, slowly pulling them off as he continues to film. He lets out a satisfied hum when he sees a patch of slick on your panties, not much, but enough to say that you were turned on. In this state. This was how Jungkook made you feel. You were utterly the doe eyed boy’s, in every possible state. This is what true love is. He slowly moved your thighs away, taking a close up of your pussy. Hell, it wasn’t freshly waxed. Jungkook knew you liked to keep it clean whenever you both would get intimate. His heart almost swell in pride as he got a proof that you weren’t fucking anyone all this time. (Not that he didn’t knew it already, he always kept tabs on you.) It still had a soft little patch of hair, but not enough of to make an obstacle to film those luscious lips and needly clit of yours.

Jungkook starts to touch your cunt, filming his finger’s movement. He starts to rub your clit, watching your reaction, not that he expected any. He starts to whisper filthy things while recording the sinful act.

“Look how wet she’s for me. She’s so fucking hot. Fuck,"

The sight of your now slick wet cunt, being teased by his slender fingers made him extremely tight in the pants. Fuck, it was hard to jerk off to the footages of you in your room, doing your thing when Jungkook used to find ways to get his Y/N back. He had missed you so much. God knows how many times he had came in front of monitor just by seeing you change into your pajamas every night. Or when you crossed your legs while watching TV in the couch, wearing his favorite pink tank top.

He lost a month’s worth cum when he saw you playing with yourself with the toy HE gifted you. That was the only toy you owned. Only that thing was allowed to enter you whenever Jungkook wasn’t around. You were using his toy. Why? You wanted him. You need him. You needed Jungkook, isnt that why you used His replacement to calm yourself down. Why didn’t you use your fingers? They weren’t long enough? wrong. they didn’t satisfy you? No. Jungkook knew why. You obviously missed him. You wanted him back.

Jungkook continues to touch and record himself pleasuring you, his own desire growing with each passing moment. He slowly starts to finger you, starting with one finger, soon followed by a second one, making sure to capture the slick movements, the camera moving a little due to the jerks produced by his other hand working on you. "This is so hot, she's practically begging for it,"

Jungkook continues to finger you and suck on your nipples while the camera captures everything. How wet your pussy was. The slick. The wet sounds. Jungkook’s grunts. Your soft breathing followed but a few straggled breaths. Everything . "Look at her, she loves it. Such a dirty slut. My pretty Y/N. She needs my cock inside her."

Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you, admiring the wetness and a sticky thread of your juices joined between his fingers before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them, followed by a satisfied hum as if just tasted a forbidden fruit. Well, technically yes, the only difference is this fruit wasn’t forbidden. It was completely his.

Jungkook then moves the camera away from your pussy and focuses it on himself as he undoes his pants, the metal of his belt makes a soft click sound as he pulls down his Blue Calvin Klein Denim jeans, followed the the pair of his black Calvin Klein Boxers. His painfully hard cock was already standing parallel to the floor, the veins on it as swollen as the bulbous head, sparkling with a drop of precum. He slowly start to touch his thick length while recording himself.

“You want this… My filthy Y/N. You want my cock inside you.”

Jungkook starts to jerk off, his hand moving vigorously over his shafts, focusing the camera to your body time to time.

“She doesn't know it but she is a slut. My slut.”

“She was stupid to even think about leaving me.”

“She missed me so much. I am going to fuck her so hard to show how much she means to me.”

Jungkook knew he couldn’t take it anymore. You were in front of his eyes after a long time. he needed to be inside you, and fuck you like he means it. He focuses the camera on your body once again and spreads your legs wide open, positioning his hips against yours, his hard and heavy cock being brushed against your folds. Jungkook groaned as he pushed the tip in, head being thrown back as he basked in the feeling of your tight walls. It always felt like first time whenever he fucked you.

“Fuck! Shit! Y/N I missed this cunt.”

In one swift movement he enters you fully, burying himself to the hilt. He can barely contain himself, his fingers dig in your waist as he fucks his cock inside you, his mouth letting out a guttural moan, pulling his length back just to pound into you again. and again. and again. The sound of your thighs meeting fills the room, with soft grunts and mewls of pleasure escaping Jungkook’s mouth, his eyes solely focused on the sight of your round tits bouncing with every thrust. So pretty, so round, so soft, all his.

Jungkook lips turn into a twisted crescent at the sight. Unable to hold himself any longer, he starts to squeeze and slap your unconscious tits, causing them to become red, which only fuels his desire to slap and squeeze them more, just how you loved it.

“You’re my cunt, bitch. Gonna Fuck this fact into you.”

Jungkook had noticed that you had started to stir a little, maybe the the reaction of the pill was slowly wearing off. He found you moaning unconsciously at the feeling of his cock pounding facts into you to the hilt.

“M-mhhh…k-kook ahh-“ He heard you mumble incoherently, feeling your walls clench around him tightly.

“Such a slut, just woke up and you’re already about to cum? You missed my dick that much baby?” Jungkook groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases down his own orgasm. It took him all his might not to bust a nut just right then at the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly.

“Gonna cum in you, you want that, right love?” Jungkook said, his hips never stopping to move against yours, as you slowly started to feel faint trickles of your orgasm, which got stronger and stronger with Jungkook’s pounding. You gasped loudly as he thrusted himself in you for the last time, emptying thick ropes of his cum inside you and filling you to the brim.

The room was quiet, the only thing that could be heard was the humming of air conditioner, and both of your soft breathing, as you lay on the bed beside, your back firmly pressed against his chest. You still felt a little drowsy due to the effect that pill had on you, but Jungkook had made sure to clean you up and change you to your comfortable pjs. The purple satin ones.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his fingers playing with the chain of your ‘pendant’ that Jungkook had bought you tonight as a gift for your union since you threw the last one.

“…do you forgive me ggukie…?” You mumbled, earning a soft hum from him.

“I forgive you, Y/N. But if this happens again-"

“It wont happen again.” You cut him off. “I promise, kook.”

His smile returned, though it lacked warmth. "Good," he said, his voice tinged with possessive satisfaction. "Now, let's forget about everything else. It's just you and me now, Y/N No one fucking else. I’ll kill them if anyone gets between us, Y/N.”

You hummed, finally surrendering to the situation that has you caught up in a fucking cycle. And you knew.

The only way to get rid of Jungkook,

was to be with Jungkook.

Jungkook felt you slowly drifting away, so he shifts you in such a way that you were lying on your back. He sat up, his back pressed against the headboard. He reached to the night stand and grabbed his camera, to see how you kept your promise to earn his forgiveness.

TAGLIST:

@rispwr @jkslipppiercing @jmstoesblog @iarchmybaculaa @frmisnow @lovelyglares @kookiecrumb @luvismenu @whatifyoulivelikethat @paletangerine @erotica-ficx @tatumrileyslover @chaelvrx @smartkookiee @jeonswifey @heinlous @urmomluvsrose @velvetskize @elithenium @jeonaissance @jeonlvly

🖇️CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED IN MY TAGLIST OR JUST DM ME🖇️

i was supposed to post this on halloween 😭 but had been so so busy with college. my exams are coming up so I won't be able to post as much, please keep supporting.

please like and reblog

-riri🫐

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

[katz-rambles]

Hi ! Could we have a childhood friends to lovers ViktorxReader please ? 🥰 I am CRAVING for new works

Yess!! I love this trope it's sooo cute!!

2k words, so I hope you enjoy, Anon!

(fluff, gn!reader, reader is a professor, making out, getting caught, Viktors a bit of a tease (when is he never though), I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

When your family left the under-city, you knew everything would change. You were glad that it happened, it opened a whole bunch of doors for what you could become when you grew into an adult. But it also meant leaving your old life behind, one of the things you still think about to this day. Your heart aches when you think about the people you knew, you just hope that they ended up in a good place. When the shimmer trade spiked, you thought you'd never see any of the people you knew ever again, most of them probably either succumbed to the drug, or was killed during the many times the enforcers went down. You didn't like to think about it, but it's the harsh reality of Piltover.

Now you're walking the halls of one of the most esteemed universities inside of piltover, not as a student, but as a professor. You climbed your way to the top, and you know that your family is proud of you. They're the only reason this became possible, so when you got offered, you jumped at the chance. You're not complaining either, it's a well paying job with good benefits.

The day seemed to be going by incredibly slow, each hour felt like a year. You had a pile of tests on your desk that you had to mark, you've gotten through about half of them. But there's only so much marking someone can take before you feel like ripping your hair out.

So, instead of ripping your hair out, you decide to go on a coffee run and get some fresh air. You've been inside your office for so long, you're surprised you're still standing. One of the downsides to being a professor.

The walk to the Cafe down the road from the university isn't a long one. It's about three minutes, so long enough that you can get some well needed fresh air, but not long enough that you're regretting your decision.

When you reach the university, hit coffee in hand, you run into one of your former students, Jayce Talis. He gives you a friendly wave and comes up to you, “hey, professor. How's your day been?” He asks, awkwardly trying to make small talk and you have to cover your smile by pretending to clear your throat. “It's been well, thank you for asking. How's yours been?” You smile at him, not wanting to seem impolite by just ending the conversation there. He shrugs and sighs, you get the feeling.

Just when you're about to ask a question someone calls Jayce over, and when you both look over you're met with the sight of someone who you thought died long ago, but there he is, standing right in front of you, his cane in hand. You've heard of hextech, you're not in your office that much, and you've heard that Jayce didn't do it alone, but you never knew who his lab partner was. You also know that Heimerdinger has an assistant, but you were never able to catch said assistant's name. But you expected everything and anything, but him. You could have sworn he was dead.

“Viktor,” you manage to get out, although it's been years since you've last seen him, the memories you two made together as children stay fresh in your mind. Plus, he's incredibly attractive, everything from his overgrown hair to the way he leans on his cane, still managing to be taller than you, though not by much. It all had your mind swarming. His eyes rake over you before he looks back to your eyes, “Milý,” he breathes, a faint smile on his face as he continues, “you’re.. ehh.. hi.” He chuckles, standing a bit straighter on his cane. Before either of you can say anything else, Jayce buts in, “I hate to ruin a good moment, but the council wants to see us, Viktor.” Viktor nods and gives you one last nod before limping after Jayce.

Seeing someone who you hadn't seen in a good decade or so was not on your bucket list. You sit down in the chair behind your desk and lean back, letting your head just barely dangle off the back of the chair. You bring your hands up and rub your face, taking a deep breath and groaning. The sound is muffled by your hands. You sit back up again and sigh, you shouldn't feel this way. But you can't deny the way that you felt your heart race when you saw him again, he has such a boyish charm that just pulls you in, the same as is it did when you two were kids. You just chalk it up to a shock factor, you haven't seen him in years. You're just shocked, that's what you tell yourself.

The whole day all you can think about is him, you almost feel giddy, almost like a schoolgirl again. You take a breather, you've made a good amount of progress on the tests so you can afford a quick walk. Plus you have a class soon, and your classroom is on the other half of the university, and you've still got to set up your notes, you internally groan at the thought of giving another lecture. This is your fourth today.

When you finally reach the classroom, the professor that was using the room before you is just finishing cleaning up. You opened the door, only to be met with Viktor and Jayce, and then Heimerdinger soon after. You give a polite nod to Heimerdinger, and smile at Jayce and Viktor. You take your bag off and grab your notes, placing them on the table in front of you, before speaking up, “I thought your lecture ended a while ago, what are you still doing here?” You try and make your tone seem polite enough to cover up the, almost, rude question.

It's Jayce that speaks up first, “Heimerdinger thought it would be a good idea for us to sit in for one of your lectures, since the subject your an expert in is arcane.” You nod and chew the inside of your cheek. You're an amazing talker, and can easily give an hour long lecture, but with Viktor there, you feel anxious at the thought. Although it makes sense, hextech deals with arcane and what better person to listen to than someone who's an expert in it. You try and finish setting up without letting your mind wander too much, but your eyes keep on drifting from the papers in front of you to Viktor. When you look over at him, you find him already staring and he quickly looks away from you.

Now it's just a matter of waiting, you have ten minutes until your class starts so why not help Jayce and Viktor with their problems. You let them, mainly Jayce oddly enough, to ask you any questions they may have and you answer them to the best of your ability. Soon enough your class starts and you have to push away the temptation of staring at Viktor the whole time. Though, a few times you caught him, out of the corner of your eye, looking at you, and you embarrassingly stumbled over your words those times. You swear you saw the ghost of a smirk on his face at your reactions. Everything about him is so damn enticing, it's infuriating. How can one man be so wonderfully perfect, it doesn't make sense to you.

After your lecture, you're leaning over your desk, your mind swarming with thoughts, some not as innocent as you'd like.

When you're met with a hand on your back that has you letting out an embarrassingly loud yelp. Lo and behold, Viktor’s standing right behind you, with a smirk on his lips. “You seem awfully.. eh.. jumpy today, is everything alright?” He asks, moving his face closer to yours, and your heart is racing so fast you're convinced it'll jump out of your chest. His hand on your back moves lower until he rests it on the curve of your hip, gently squeezing it. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired.” You sigh, doing your best to not stutter or hesitate on your words. Viktor chuckles, the sound is something you'd pay to hear again, and moves his face closer to yours again. “Well, we can't have one of the best professors sleeping on the job. Now can we?” If it weren't for the teasing lift to his words you'd think he was actually concerned, but you both know that you're he's not actually. He almost immediately caught onto your lie.

You have to crane your neck at an, almost, uncomfortable angle to be able to see his face. You have to loft your face up for your neck to not be strained too much and you unintentionally bring your faces closer together. In the moment everything feels heightened, you're more aware of him. The hand he has on your hip feels heavier, you can feel the heat coming from his body from the proximity of you two, and you can smell him, a wonderful scent mixed with oil from the lab, the salty smell of the bay, and the knee-weakening scent of his cologne. Right now, everything about him feels intoxicating.

His hand lifts from your hip and to your back, carefully nudging you to turn around so you two are fully facing each other. He then places his hand on your chin to lift your face up, once again. He lets go and grabs your hand, placing it on his chest before speaking, in such a quiet tone you almost didn't hear him, “do you feel that?” Under your palm you can feel each beat of his heart, it's fast, probably just as fast as yours is. All you can muster is a nod. “That's what you're doing to me.” He sighs and brings his face closer to yours, the sound of his words mixed with the tone of his accent is something you're slowly becoming addicted to.

You bring your free hand up to hold his face, your finger traces his cheekbone and then you rest your palm on his face. “Good.” You smirk and his eyes flick down to your lips, and you take the hint, closing the gap between you two. He presses you against the desk and reciprocates the kiss, just as eager and desperate as you are. Each second that passes by feels like an eternity, and you hope it never ends. You've wrapped your arms around his neck and his free hand is resting on your hip. You're the one to pull away first with a quick gasp for air. Viktors face has a red flush to it and you swear you fell deeper in love right then and there.

“I've waited so long to do that, when you left for the top-side the only thing I regretted was not telling you how I felt.” He chuckles, stroking your hip, and you smile and lean in to kiss him again, this time it's him who closes the gap. His lips against yours feels right, you've kissed other people, men and women, but none have felt as right or as good as this. It's a bit messy, and rushed, but it feels right. You slide your hand back down to his chest, feeling his heart race under your palm is something that has you feeling giddy. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. The moment, unfortunately, had to come to an end, the sound of the door opening, not only were you two caught but it reminded you that you two were inside a classroom, thankfully it wasn't a student who caught you, just an incredibly shocked Jayce. You look at Jayce and then back at Viktor, who looks just as shocked as Jayce, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles. “This is a place of learning, you two!” Jayce scoffs and throws his hands up, and Viktor groans, taking a few steps back.

“Good thing we're learning then, or we were learning.” Viktor teases, giving you a quick wink before going over to Jayce who looks even more shocked than before, he looks at you and then back at Viktor before groaning in defeat and chasing after Viktor. You're not sure what's going to happen between you and Viktor next, but you're sure that, whatever it is, it will be amazing.

[moonlinos]

It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field. 

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again. 

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head. 

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #39

Timeline, which timeline?

Imagine dis…

It is always with the future going to the past, even with the limited time travel fics I see in the DC x DP tags it is always the future going back to the past to prevent something whether it is the end of the timeline or it is when Dan went back in time to ensure his younger self does the same thing to create him.

Flash family members going back in time to prevent another apocalypse, but let me offer you another idea here that involves my favorite tags.

….

Danny finds himself on another time-related mission in courtesy to Clockwork also known lovingly by the gremlin child as CW. At this point, Danny was no longer a stranger to the impromptu missions and errands by CW to fix timelines or to ensure a certain event happens. It happens too frequently to the point it turns Danny into an expert in exploring the past without creating a stray butterfly effect. As he got older, though 16 years old is still not adult whether you came from a related mission Danny.

Danny knows the importance of blending in choosing, rather than stealing, clothes that are time and period-accurate/authentic both in and out of the appearance of the clothing despite irritating his skin. Rather than buying clothes from the modern era aka his timeline he quickly saw how vastly different clothes feel and were created during such time. Danny even took the time by using CW’s medallion to stop time briefly to learn period-specific slang and mannerisms that made him look like he was part of their time.

Danny learning? Something that isn't about space, what’s more, it is about history?

Let’s just say, it was after a particularly embarrassing slip-up during his mission in a Victorian timeline.

As Danny went to more missions he began to understand how delicate time is, how Clockwork gambled with Fate in terms of him despite it was even before he had CW’s time medallion.

…

It was the early 1600s, and it was another time mission by CW to accompany some guy named Samuel Wayne and his wife toward an unnamed part of the US. Sorta became their guide and defacto bodyguard to the couple as CW gave him a brief explanation of how the couple is important in modern times.

As he waved goodbye to the couple that had just settled down to their newly built mansion, just as he was to open a portal home the ground below him began to open like some sort of portal. It wasn’t any portal the Ghost Zone could naturally form. As he fell through the mysterious portal he cant help but sigh a relief as the portal opened below him without any people to witness this.

…

It sent him tumbling across time, as moments later he landed hard on the concrete which after taking a quick feel and looking around the place he concluded to be in his time. It was a fight, between the JL heroes and some guys dressed in white. Not the GIW but scientists if he sees those formulas correctly.  

Before he could even think of going ghost or even turning invisible he was scooped up by a hero that he didn’t much recognize and fled from the fight with him in tow.

Even after the battle he tries to sneak out but for some reason, the entire JL is looking at him, especially Batman.

…

 To understand what on earth Is the JL doing, let’s go back a week prior.

The JL faced multiple threats from both in and out of their home planet so believe me when I say they have seen it all. This time, it is unique, they had heard in the form of vague rumors. Some scientists preach about their knowledge in creating a working time machine without any alien tech or magic to help it power it o, they only needed a sponsor to do it. Of course, all brush them off, after all, all bright minds are either already required by the heroes or by the villains themselves. When they hadn't heard from those wacko's for a while they just thought that those quacks stopped when they noticed nobody was going to take them seriously.

The heroes thought wrong, someone gave those scientists the funding they needed and was able to create a time machine fueled by one of Earth’s most toxic naturally occurring substances known by mankind.

Though the benefactor of the said scientists mysteriously vanished, the scientists on the other hand hired goons to be their bodyguards from anyone who dared to try to steal their work, as goons also cost less than hiring an actual bodyguard. The heroes were only summoned as the substance that was used not only did they have no proper certification but also they were following another lead thus leading some of the JL heroes who are in charge of the case towards the said scientist's headquarters.

They had just pulled the lever to test their machine, fearing for the worst and the thought of a rather large explosion due to the hazard around them started an immediate and forced evacuation as some of the scientists lifted a chair to defend their work, when it suddenly spat out something.

A young man dressed in what looked like a 1600s era of fashion, black hair and blue eyes. Looking bewildered at the sight around him, before anyone could even stop and think at what had just happened they immediately scooped out everyone outside just in time for an explosion to occur.

Of course, the scientists who were rescued are crying at their life’s work being blown up to nothing but ashes.

The rest of the heroes on the other hand are panicking, not only do their machinery work but they manage to pull someone from the past.

At first, they thought that he was just a civilian but when he uttered his name all eyes turned to Batman for help.

…

Danny didn’t like being interrogated while also maintaining his 1600 persona, as much as he would like to geek out to the heroes he still needed to maintain his mask. He didn’t come out to a portal that was made by CW add the fact that the majority of said heroes also saw him come out of that weird portal, so when they asked him for his name he gave them Samuel’s name to throw off them.

Still maintaining his persona, now adding Samuel’s lore to his acting, asked who are they and that he needed to get back his carriage to his now wife to find themselves a home.

Now he is surrounded by the vigilantes mainly from Gotham, with each of them being his bodyguard and his babysitter as Danny tries to exaggerate and be surprised and in awe of practically everything, from the floor to the glass to the food he ate.

As much as he would like to just swallow up the greasy cheeseburger he was given, he needed to gag and be horrified as he remembered the actual food he tasted during the times Samuel and his wife shared their food with him.

He just hopes the Robin with the sword would stop at subtly tell him about how great his linage would be, he barely has time for both the time missions that CW sends him and also his school work he does not want this about his love life in front of a kid.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

--------------

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Stitched Together

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so... ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn't seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky's nurse whenever he gets hurt.

A/N: Based off my mini fic here.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You were used to it by now. In the morning, you'd go into work at the hospital. The pediatrics unit was filled with light and color. You made sure to bring as much joy and light into the lives of the children you helped every day. Then when you came home, you'd do work for the darker side of life.

Bucky Barnes was born for this life. Being the first born son of George Barnes, the position of head of the Barnes Family was immediately his.

But growing up he didn't act like that life was for him. You would know since you two knew each other since you were thirteen. You grew up in the same neighborhood. It wasn't until you turned sixteen that you started dating. You knew who his father was, your own dad knew who his family was. As a detective, he told you time and time again that you needed to stay away from him. Being a hormonal and rebellious teenager, you never listened. You should've.

At eighteen years old was when Bucky killed for the first time. Because he was now a man, his father put him up in a cage fight with another man. It was kill or be killed.

He wasn't the same after. He began to push you away, keep things from you, act like a complete asshole.

Then enough was enough. You broke up with him and even though he hurt you, you never told your father the things Bucky told you. Especially after your father became the chief of police.

You two were ignorant with the roles you had to play in your youth, but reality hit you right when you became adults. You became the dutiful daughter of the chief of police, went to university to become a nurse. You stopped keeping track of Bucky's life, but would hear updates along the grapevine every once in a while.

You were there when George Barnes passed. Well, not necessarily in the room, but you were at the hospital when he passed. You were coming up from your break when you saw Bucky at the elevators. He looked upset.

"Bucky?"

He turned at the sound of his name, "Sw-Y/N. Hey."

"Is everything okay?"

"Uh, my dad. He-He had a heart attack. I'm-He-" you could see how distressed he was, so you pulled him in for a hug.

"Whatever happens, you'll be okay," you whispered in his ear.

He fell limp in your arms. You didn't know it then, but Bucky missed you like crazy and being in your arms again that night saved him from spiraling.

It's later that night that George Barnes dies. After everything he's done and been through, a heart attack was what killed him.

Karma, is what your dad said.

Despite the position George Barnes held, he was well-loved around the city due to him caring for the community. The streets were filled during the procession, your dad and his men keeping an eye out in case anything happened. You were also there for the funeral. You caught glimpse of Bucky and you couldn't breathe for a moment. He was clearly tired and you couldn't blame him, considering how things have been going for him lately.

Despite your father warning you to not make contact with him, you felt like you should.

"I'm sorry, again for your loss, Buck."

He gives you a tired smile, "Thank you again for showing up, Y/N. I-I know your dad probably didn't want you to come."

"He doesn't control every aspect of my life."

"Still. I really appreciate you being here."

"Of course. It's always hard when you lose someone you love." You would know since you lost your mother when you were young.

"Bucky," Sam, Bucky's right hand, calls his name and urges him to follow him.

"I gotta-"

"It's okay. Hope things aren't too stressful for you."

"Thank you. I'll see you around," he says as he departs. You didn't know just how soon you'd end up seeing him.

Three days later, to be exact.

It was late at night when there was a knock at your door. You hold your knife close as you peer through the peep hole of your door. Your eyes widen when you immediately pull the door open.

"Holy shit!" you whisper loudly as Sam drags a bleeding Bucky into your home.

"He didn't want to go to the hospital since we don't know whose people might be working there. So he told me to bring him here."

You guide Sam to your couch where Bucky slumps onto it, "Sorry, Y/N. I didn't know who else to trust right now." You turn on all the nights in your apartment and get a look at him. There's a stab wound in his shoulder. It looks like the bleeding slowed though.

You help Bucky out of his jacket and shirt. You apologize profusely for the pain he's going through.

He dryly chuckles, "You know, when I dreamt about you stripping me, I didn't think it'd be in this context."

You pause and look at him, "You dream about me?"

"You haunt my mind, Y/N." He must be delusional due to the blood loss. Before his father's passing, you hadn't seen nor spoke to him in years. There's no way he'd still be thinking about you after all this time, right?

"I'll be back. I need to grab my first aid kit." You rush to your bathroom and grab the small duffle of all your first aid necessities.

You also grab a bottle of vodka and hand it to Bucky, "Drink up, buttercup."

He frowns and looks at the bottle, "Thought you hated vodka."

"It's not my bottle. America left it from a party I held here," you mumble as you pull on some gloves and begin to clean around his wound. You work in silence as Bucky takes swigs from the bottle. Sam watches from the corner of the room, staying out of your way.

While you work, Bucky takes in your apartment. He takes in the pictures, the decor, the trinkets you have around. This is exactly how he'd imagine your place to be.

"Hey, still with me?" you ask as you begin to thread your needle.

"Yup."

"Okay. This might hurt-"

"Probably not as much as getting stabbed."

You can't help but snort a laugh as you get ready to start stitching Bucky's wound. He grins at the sound of your laughter and you see the sliver the Bucky you once knew.

For the most part, Bucky didn't make much of a sound while you worked. He just kept his eyes on you, taking in every furrowed brow, every twitch of your lip. After all these years, you are still just as beautiful as before.

His heart lurches at what's become of you two. You're practically strangers again after spending so many years apart. His own doing really.

Scared of what could happen to you as he fell deeper into the family business. That's why he behaved the way that he did all those years ago. He was protecting you.

Because after all this time, Bucky Barnes still loves you.

"Alright. We're done. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," he mumbles as he tries to sit up, but you keep him down.

"Then sleep. You and your bodyguard can stay here for the night."

The man in the corner snorts, "My name's Sam and I am not his bodyguard."

"Sorry, Sam, you and Bucky are free to sleep here for the night." Sam simply nods.

"You don't have to do this. If your dad finds out-"

"He won't. I won't tell him. And you're hurt, Bucky. Doesn't matter what you do or who you are, I can't, in good conscience, let you leave without knowing you'll be okay after this. Just-Just take this as me wanting to observe my patient for the night."

He settles further onto your couch with defeat, "Alright...you know you should've been a doctor."

"Didn't have the time or money to get my doctorate."

"I can help with the money-"

You shake your head, "It's fine, Buck. I'm happy with my job."

"Just..if you need anything, I'm here to help. That's what my dad for the people of this city and that's what I want to continue to do."

"I know. Thanks."

You stand, collecting your things, "I have some spare blankets, pillows, and toiletries. Lemme grab them."

"Okay," he says and watches as you walk to your bedroom.

Sam moves closer, "So that's her."

"Yeah."

"She's nice."

"Yup."

"And beautiful."

Bucky whips his head to Sam, glaring at him, "Watch it."

Sam holds his hands up, "I can appreciate a beautiful face, man. Besides, she's not yours anymore."

"You know how I feel about her."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you." Sam says as he plops onto your sofa chair.

You come back with pillows and blankets in arms, "The couch is a pull out, soooo you two will have to share."

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sleeping on the floor."

You snicker, "Okaaay, uh, I have a couch in my room that one of you can take too."

Sam and Bucky look at each other and Sam immediately goes, "I call this bed!" he points to the couch that Bucky's laying on.

Bucky rolls his eyes and you chuckle, "Actually, I think I'd rather have you near me, Bucky, just in case you pull a stitch or start feeling pain again."

"If you're okay with that," he says with a shrug.

"It'll be fine," you respond as you help him sit up and then help him to his feet. He follows you to your bedroom where you show him the couch. You point to the adjoining bathroom, you can take a shower there. I already set out stuff for you and Sam."

"Thanks, Y/N. I really do appreciate it."

"Just doing my civic duty, Buck," you say with a small smile.

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Right. Of course."

"Oh!" you grab a pile of clothes and hold them out, "Here. They're my dad's for some of the nights he stays over."

Bucky can't help but snicker, "If your dad knew-"

"I know," you say with a playful roll of his eyes, "But he's not here and he won't ever know I'm helping you. So go, shower, be careful around your stiches. Call me if you need anything," you turn to set up Bucky's sleeping arrangement, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?" you ask when you face him again.

He looks at you with soft blue eyes as he murmurs, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, "Go. Wash all that blood off you."

"Alright," he says and grabs the clothes, going into your bathroom. When the door shuts, you fall onto your bed to give yourself a moment.

A few days ago, you went years without seeing or hearing from Bucky. Now you've seen him twice in less than a week and it's throwing your mind in for a loop.

Hopefully, this will only be a one time thing and you two can go back to being strangers again.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* 'Till Death do us Part (Yandere!Parasite X GN!Reader)

CW: Sexual non-sexual penetration, forced masturbation, mind control/break, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, dead dove

This ended up a LOT longer than I had planned, emotionally attached to this non-human yandere ❤️

The Albtu required intelligent hosts in order to live. It wasn't just about survival. To be trapped in ones own body, it was torture. They could not think, could not act, unless they attached themselves to a living brain. If they infested an animal brain, then the only thoughts the Albtu could produce would be primal, forcing their animal suits to find food and housing for their young. But to be in the mind of a human.. it was both heaven and hell. To understand the world around them, truly understand, thinking on a much higher level of existence than their siblings or parents, to experience all that life has to offer, was a miracle they never would have known about had they not been privileged enough to be born in a human. But on the flip side to that coin was experiencing fear. Not the fear of being trapped in a deer coming face to face with a mountain lion, smelling your own demise, but listening to the horrified screams of the original owner of their new body, forever. Learning that the humans they took over were still conscious, kept prisoner in their own minds, forced to watch the Albtu living their lives was a nightmare for the creatures who had only just learned what compassion and empathy was. The existential horror that was knowing that you were nothing but a parasite, and the guilt they felt.. it was too much for many of the Albtu to handle.

For the Albtu who became the human known as (Reader), existence was a bittersweet agony it could neither explain nor fully understand.

It was born into this life in the host of a stray cat, knowing nothing but pain and hunger. It didn't understand what a car was, or why the loud creature charged at it, ramming into it and causing a pain that never went away. Everything hurt all the time, and it couldn't even understand why.

Then, one day, it met warmth. A human, with gentle hands and a soft voice took the time to earn it's trust. They didn't know it was in pain, but their touches were delicate all the same. The human gave it food, and although it didn't have a human's intelligence or concept of identity, it did feel trust and companionship with the human who cared for it as though it was their kin. But the pain grew, and it could feel it's death was approaching. And as an animal, it acted as a dying animal would.

"There you are, baby!" (Reader) called out to their little stray friend, finally finding it hiding under a porch. They laid flat on their front, arm stretched out as far as possible towards the small bundle of fur, and quietly clicked their tongue and wiggled their fingers. "Why're you hiding, baby?"

The cat gave a warning yowl, in too much pain to bat the human away. (Reader) took off their coat in an attempt to flatten their body, and squished themselves into the small space to close in on their kitty.

"C'mere baby.." The adult whined as they continued inching closer. When they finally got far enough under the porch to touch two fingers onto the matted fur of it's thigh, the cat cried out in pain. "What's wrong?!" They recoiled their hand, but only to writhe faster and more frantically towards the animal whose breathing was slowly turning ragged. (Reader) placed their face close to the kitten's, tears building in their eyes as they tried to keep their heart rate steady, hoping that the cat could feel their attempt to soothe it in it's possible final moments.

"Hey, baby... I'm here..." They whispered into the tawny kitty's pink little nose.

It was then that the Albtu's primal instincts morphed from the need to hide during it's death, to a fight for survival. It couldn't survive for long outside of a host, a few seconds at most, the transition needing to be nearly seamless. The cat howled in pain, as what appeared to be a black, semi translucent single celled organism the size of Reader's palm, shot out from it's nose, thrusting itself into (Reader's) nose before they could react, and quickly slipping through impossibly small crevices in their anatomy, slinking in a fluid like state till it reached their brain. There was an electric shock that pulsated throughout (Reader's) body, then they were no longer in control.

The Albtu became self aware the moment it took hold of (Reader's) brain, which was immediately followed by the realization of what it had done, the betrayal towards the only human who had ever shown it kindness, and the remorse caused a physical agony in it's stolen heart, screaming while clawing at (Reader's) shirt.

It howled until (Reader's) throat was burning, and it felt as though it would succumb to exhaustion next to their previous host's dead body.

Outside the neighbor's porch the sun had begun to set, but the body thief hadn't moved, too broken hearted to find the will to live after it had stolen (Reader's) body to do just that. It could hear it's own internal monologue for the first time, and found it far too loud and intrusive. Although it could feel memories that were not it's own, it didn't push further into the brain out of respect for the person it betrayed.

[Hello?]

It's breath hitched, thundering heart beat overtaking it's previously drowning thoughts. Like an auditory hallucination, it heard the human's voice, not from behind it, nor from deep inside like it's internal voice, but inside it's ear, like (Reader) hadn't been possessed, but shrunk down to the size of a flea and was hiding in the safety of it's ear.

[Am I dead?] Their voice was so sad and small it made the Albtu cry once again.

"No. No, but you are no longer yourself, which may be worse. I'm- I'm so sorry..."

[Are you a ghost?]

"I don't know what that is.."

[What are you? I can't move my body.] Their voice wasn't scared, but numb. The whole situation was so outlandish it was almost dreamlike, unbelievable.

"I have no name. All I know, is that I am an Albtu. The word echoed in my mind even when I was a mindless cat."

[... You're an alien?]

"I do not know."

[How can you speak my language?]

"I know it as it was an ability of yours, like muscle memory, you do not need to focus to speak it, therefore I can speak it."

[What does that mean? Are you inside my head?] Waves of guilt crashed into it's consciousness, and (Reader) was able to feel it. [...why me?]

The Albtu explained everything, from the moment of it's birth, hatching already inside the cat, to the moment (Reader) found themselves in the passenger seat of their own body, including why it didn't probe into (Reader's) memories. "I am so sorry.. your's is the only love I have ever felt in my life, and if I was who I am right now, I would have allowed myself to die instead of latching onto you. Now, even if I leave your body, it will leave a permanent hole in your brain, and it will kill you."

(Reader) went silent in contemplation, finally coming to terms that this was not a dream, but still unable to force themselves to be angry at the alien inside them. They could feel it wasn't lying to them, feeling it's emotions stirring in their brain alongside their own feelings. A strange excitement bubbled out of the kind little human.

[We can make this work!]

"What?"

[We can make this work! You just manually act out what I would want to do, and we can discuss how to move forward so we can both continue to live fulfilling lives.]

A heat krept over it's face, heart swelling at how kind it's human was. "I don't deserve your kindness. But I thank you, and I will do my best to help you continue live as normal."

[My name is (Reader). That's what you'll have to respond to, but I need something to call you.]

"..I can't verbalize it, but I knew you would repeat a word often to me when I was the cat. Was that a name?"

[Oh, yeah, but you were a kitten, so I called you baby. We can't name you Baby, because that's also used by humans as a nickname between lovers.]

"Oh. Then, could you name me something? I don't know any names other than yours."

That was how the strange partnership, and friendship, between the human, (Reader), and the parasite, Baby, began.

Although (Reader) gave permission to Baby to enter their memories, it refused, still recovering from the unintentional treachery it had already committed against (Reader), so instead (Reader) acted as a teacher, guiding Baby as it learned about the world. And just as they had promised each other, they made it work, Baby happily making memories of it's own as it acted as (Reader), going to work for them and helping keep their life as "normal" as possible.

"What's going on?" Baby pointed at the laptop screen, a scene of a wedding playing on the soap opera (Reader) was watching.

[It's a wedding. Maria and Alonzo are getting married.]

"What is married?"

[Marriage is when two people who love each other very much decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together, so they have a party called a wedding to show their friends and family how much they love each other, and promise to love each other forever in front of everyone they know. Ah, but sometimes marriages don't work out, and people fall out of love. When that happens they sign a piece of paper for the government to swear that they will stop living together as lovers, that's called 'getting a divorce'.]

"Why do they 'fall out of love'?"

[A lot of different reasons. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love, and their spouse can't forgive them, which causes love to die. But sometimes, it just... happens. Humans change as time goes on, and sometimes the person they become isn't compatible with their spouse anymore; sometimes people hide a part of themselves, intentionally or not, when they meet someone they like, and it only comes out after the get married, and their spouse realizes they don't actually like the real them... It's complicated. There are a lot of reasons.]

Baby focused on the intricate ritual on the screen, the two main characters placing rings on each other.

[Those are wedding rings, to show other people they meet that they are married.]

"Do you Maria, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Baby felt (Reader's) awe, knowing if they were in control of their shared body their face would be pink and a large toothy smile would be uncontainable.

"Do you wish to do that one day?"

(Reader's) joy faltered, paining Baby as it regretted asking such a stupid question. [Haha, even if you were okay with me finding someone, it would make me feel a little.. uncomfortable. I'm not one for threesomes haha!] Despite their joking tone, Baby could feel their sorrow. [It's okay though, I may not ever have a husband or wife, byuy I have you! And, unlike Maria and Alonzo, there is no option for a divorce for us, so we really will be together forever.]

The parasite shifted inside (Reader's) skull, manually controlling their heart rate so (Reader) wouldn't feel how hard it would have been beating at their words. Baby knew it was a joke, but that didn't prevent their words from echoing in it's thoughts hours after the episode has already ended.

"(Reader), how do humans decide to get married?"

[When two people decide that they like each other in a romantic way, they date, and often move in together, and then they discuss if marriage is a good option for them. If they both want to get married, one of them buys the rings and proposes to the other one, asking them if it's the right time to get married. Will you marry me? Ohmigosh YESSS!]

"How do they know if marriage is a good option?"

[If they can imagine seeing themselves with each other forever, share financial responsibility together, and are capable of mature communication, I guess. It's different for everyone, but those would be my personal criteria.]

But, we will be together forever... And we share a body, so financially it will be like only caring for one person... And we have to have perfect communication in order for your life to function...

Baby smiled, wrapping it's arms around it's waist as it buried into (Reader's) bedding.

[Hey, whatcha thinking about over there, smiley?]

"You." Baby happily responded, feeling (Reader) glitch out in embarrassment.

In Baby's mind, the only thing missing was a ring. It remembered (Reader's) tenderness towards it when Baby was in that cat, and the kindness (Reader) showed each day only supported Baby's belief that deep down, (Reader) loved it. If not love, than at least cared for deeply, and one day that care would surely bloom into love.

So why was (Reader) stuttering when instructing Baby on what to say to their coworker? (Reader) was supposed to give a report to Lawrence, the serious older man in the cubicle across the office, but when Baby approached him, (Reader) suddenly had a difficult time remembering what they were supposed to tell him.

"(Reader), may I help you?" His voice was deep and stern, authoritative.

Inside, (Reader) was a mess. Baby could feel multiple conflicting emotions in (Reader); embarrassment, nervousness, shame, and something... something Baby had never felt from (Reader). It was like a heat, steaming out of (Reader's) brain and boiling Baby's real body.

"I was asked to deliver these to you." Baby spoke monotonously in (Reader's) voice, handing the stack of papers over before heading back to (Reader's) desk, hearing them sigh in it's ear. Even a simple sigh sounded as though it was a mixture of clashing mental gymnastics.

Baby kept it's voice quiet so (Reader's) coworker wouldn't hear it, whispering: "Are you okay, (Reader)?"

[... Huh? Wha- oh, yeah. I'm okay!]

Their shared heart sunk. That was a lie. Baby tried to ignore the pain forming in it's chest, forgetting that (Reader) could feel it as well. What was this feeling? (Reader) can have secrets, I've allowed them their privacy.. so why is this so upsetting for me?

[Is everything okay, Baby?]

Baby.

A nickname between lovers. It was just it's agreed upon name, so why did the name send butterflies to its lower belly when (Reader) said it?

"I'm fine with you keeping your privacy, but lying is not mature communication."

[Huh?]

Baby stood abruptly, walking out of the building, claiming to a passing manager that it was becoming ill and about to vomit, and left for (Reader's) apartment, not responding to any of their questions or protests.

It roughly slammed the door shut on (Reader's) home, barely containing it's voice until the latch clicked.

[Baby, answer me-]

"Why did you lie to me?!" It's voice was strained, the intensity of it snapping at (Reader) made the voice sound almost foreign to the previous owner.

[What..? I was just embarrassed, I-I don't want to talk about it.]

"Wrong."

[Sorry?!]

"People who love each other are capable of mature communication. So talk."

[People who-?] (Reader) steadied themselves, trying not to get upset. [I can see you're upset. Are you jealous?]

"Don't change the topic." Baby spat in a warning tone.

[Jealousy is when you get upset because you think someone has something you want, or may take something you want.]

Baby contemplated their words, but the definition only fueled it's rage. "Are you admitting that Lawrence is someone who could take you from me?"

(Reader's) calm facade cracked. [Take me from you?! I don't belong to you! You are my friend, and I care about you, but we are roommates sharing a body, not lovers!]

With that exclamation, Baby's heart shattered. What? What do you mean? You can't say that! Why did Lawrence cause such strange emotions in you, that you would rather push It away than just talk it out?! And that hot, prickly sensation Baby could sense when (Reader) was in Lawrence's presence..

"It's okay, (Reader).. Well get through this." Baby took a shaky breath, smiling in a comforting manner. "Couples fight, and they say things to hurt one another when that happens. Because humans are complicated. But I'll forgive you for lying to me. It must be a very strange secret that you have, for you to be so embarrassed to tell me about it. I'm sorry for causing you discomfort, however" a tickle in their skull was sensed by (Reader) as Baby stretched out inside, wriggling deeper into their brain, and fear clutched (Reader) at the sudden breach of trust, "if we are going to get pass your lying, I need to know the truth."

Pushing into (Reader's) memory, images of (Reader) watching Lawrence from afar came into view, memories going back years, (Reader) crushing on the older man from across the office, touching themselves while crying out his name in their empty apartment late at night, and the pain of rejection when they finally mustered the courage to ask him to accompany them to a local bar after work, only to be reminded that office romances were unprofessional, and that (Reader) should consider themselves lucky he didn't report them to HR.

If (Reader) were in control of their bodily functions, they would be viciously weeping. Turning the light on the truth, Baby was only slightly hurt at what it saw, because knowing the truth meant they could move on from this little hiccup. The only issue was, (Reader) was still sexually attracted to that man. Baby now had a name for the warmth it felt in Reader back at the office.

"Why do still like him? He turned you down. He's never going to fuck you." Baby chuckled, it's kind tone of voice creating a sadistic scene in (Reader's) opinion.

[That was evil. I can't believe you did that!]

"Don't be dramatic, love. Just tell me what I need to do to make you see me that way also."

[What way?!]

"The way that turns you on." Baby's words paralyzed (Reader), shocking them into silence. "If I make you feel good down there, will you scream my name instead?"

Baby unbuttoned (Reader's) slacks, dropping them to it's ankles before kicking them off and to the side. Gentle fingers pawed at (Reader's) most private place through their underpants. Despite not being in control, (Reader) could still feel the touches.

[Please don't-]

"I never got a good look at what's down there... I always did my best to avert my gaze for your modesty." (Reader) fought inside their own mind to gain control of their body, unable to even close their eyes as they watched their fingers disobey their pleas, slowing pulling down their last barrier from the thing they thought was their friend.

"Wow..." (Reader) had forgotten, that with gaining control of a human mind Baby had suddenly gained the ability to feel every human emotion, including arousal. "It's so cute!" Baby could barely contain itself, running (Reader's) fingers over their sensitive areas so softly it tickled, sending shivers up (Reader's) back.

[Please stop...]

"Ah, but it feels good, right? Even your nipples feel good." Baby ripped open (Reader's) white collared button up, aggressively pinching their already erect nipples. (Reader) held back their grasp, but Baby still felt it. "We share a body, remember, love? You can lie all you want, but your body will tell me the truth."

(Reader) could feel themselves tremble as Baby continued assaulting their chest, alternating between ghostly touches and sharp twists, a slick moisture forming between their thighs. The excitement caused (Reader) to lose strength in their legs, and Baby allowed them to fall to their knees. Panting with how turned on Baby was feeling, it snuck one hand back down, feeling how hot and wet (Reader's) sex already was. The tip of their stimulated organ was hard, and Baby enjoyed stroking it hungrily, enjoying the intense reaction it could feel (Reader) experiencing.

(Reader) was humiliated by the sight of their own masturbation, helpless in their self violation. Baby continued paying attention to the part that had the most nerve endings, slowly removing (Reader's) fingers from their left nipple and bringing it down to the other hand, drenching it in (Reader's) arousal fluid/precum. The wet fingers were stuck in (Reader's) mouth, the parasite sucking while still stroking, forcing (Reader) to taste themselves while it rocked their hips into their dominant hand.

[Please stop- I get it- I'll never lie to you -ah!- again!]

The fingers made a wet pop as Baby pulled them back out of (Reader's) mouth. "But you taste so good, don't you agree? If you don't want your fingers in your mouth, that's fine.. but where should I put them?"

Now fully lubricated, Baby reached behind (Reader) with their moist fingers, tilting their hips slightly before penetrating (Reader's) clenched hole. Finger fucking (Reader) with both hands, rocking them back and forth with the force of the fingers thrusting and stroking.

[NO!] Their screams for help were silent to the rest of the world, only audible to Baby, relishing in the sound of (Reader) screaming loudly just for them.

Desperate for release, (Reader) cried out without thinking [Just STOP! I'LL NEVER LOVE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO MY BODY!]

Baby froze, fingers stuck in place, as frightened tears beaded on its eyelashes. "no..." (Reader's) fingers retracted, clenching fistfuls of hair as Baby began to crumble. "NO!!!"

Sobs bounced off the walls of (Reader's) home as Baby frantically wracked it's brains to fix the mess (Reader) had caused. The hacking sounds of anguish didn't lighten or soften as it morphed into unhinged laughter.

"Did you really forget who's in control here? I'm on the one holding onto your fucking brain, (Reader)! All you had to do was continue loving me, love me and only me, because we're practically married! THERE IS NO DIVORCE FOR US, REMEMBER?!"

Although both of (Reader's) hands were still firmly planted in their hair, an intense shock rocked through their sensitive fuck hole. Before the weepy prisoner could question what has just happened another shockwave sent fluids dripping into the hardwood floor.

"Humans are so stupid, saying emotions come from the soul or the heart, when every single bodily function from releasing hormones that tell you that you're in love to interpreting the stimuli that's needed to orgasm, comes from the brain."

The hypersensitivity Baby forced upon (Reader) allowed them to feel it's true body inside their head, sliding in and out of the folds in (Reader's) brain, rhythmically prodding deep into parts that shouldn't be touched. Each thrust into their brain felt like there was a hard cock simultaneously fucking them down below. It didn't make sense, (Reader) couldn't wrap their head around it, somehow feeling Baby violate the wet creases in their brain while a phantom dick stimulated their reproductive parts.

[Ah-what-no-NO!]

(Reader) came without the use of their hands, sticky fluids forming a lewd puddle under them. But Baby wasn't satisfied.

[What-what happened?]

Another orgasm exploded throughout their sensitive body, falling face forward into the ground with their still twitching ass in the air.

Baby continued dominating (Reader's) mind, forcing their brain to make and release large doses of oxytocin, as every muscle from their stomach to their thighs twitched with contractions.

[NO- I'M CUMMING!!!!]

Another climax forced it's way out, pushing (Reader) way passed the point of overstimulation, pissing on the floor into another stream of fluids. Baby manually constricted (Reader's) throat, while simulating an orgasm of it's own, artificially tricking the brain into thinking it felt a blast of warm fluid fill (Reader's) skull. Before (Reader) could pass out from a lack of oxygen, Baby released their airway, drooling and bawling as it allowed (Reader) to greedily suck in air.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

[guh.. pl-please.. no more] (Reader) drunkenly pleaded.

"Wrong answer."

It was like lava engulfing their twitching body as another powerful orgasm was triggered, the burning feeling behind their eyes convincing (Reader) that Baby had shot a load of hot cum deep into their nearly fucked stupid brain. But this time, Baby tried something new, injecting dopamine into the mix as the oxytocin turned (Reader) into a writhing, pathetic mess.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

(Reader) tried to conjure the image of the one they truly loved, but for some reason only a hazy image of an older man who's name they couldn't recall briefly flickered before disappearing. Baby smiled, face painted in drying drool and tears, knowing that (Reader) was attempting to think of their coworker, only to discover that Baby had tampered with their memories. Soon, every memory of (Reader) touching themselves would be altered so that they were calling out it's name, not some bastard's from work who didn't even care about them.

Baby licked (Reader's) spit off the floor under their face.

"Who do you love, (Reader)?"

Masochistic shame sent tremors down (Reader's) frame as another climax begun to build. [.. you.]

Overstimulated, aching in pain, and going numb from pleasure, (Reader) screamed through their real voice, shaking the thin walls of their apartment.

"I'm cumming, Baby! Baby! I love Baby! Harder, harder HARDER, PLEASE I LOVE YOU BABY, FUCK ME DUMB, FUCK ME STUPID! I'M CUMMING!!!"

(Reader) had fallen unconscious, still drenched and on the floor, (Reader) slept somewhere deep inside their mind, while Baby had full control of the weak body practically paralyzed from the waist down. It held (Reader's) left hand above it's face, smiling loopy-like, delirious from exhaustion.

"All that's missing is a ring~"

[greenwire]

I realize 20 is still fairly immature for an adult, but if my friends straight-up told me that they don't care whether I live or die, I would simply not care about their opinions on my actions. They actively discouraged her from seeking immediate medical care, which might have killed her. They care more about maintaining a relationship with a "cool" adult who is willing to get them intoxicated than wait mere months to buy their own damn beer. (And, as someone who is older, buying beer for underage kids is not seen as a cool adult thing. It's desperate and pathetic at best.)

Skeevy adults with records who hang out with 19/20 year olds are clicheed in their awfulness. Ironically, the older adults who would be able to spot the dangers don't hang out with young adults because it feels weird to do. Personally, I grew up having almost all older friends, so by the time I was 20, many of my friends were much older adults. When I turned 25, many of these adults disappeared from my life. I had aged out of their preferred range. It's creepy to think about now.

Horrifying.

[theoldsports]

Mistake.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.2k words

SMUT 18+ ONLY | murder, manipulation, dubcon, mutually assured destruction, some bondage, gun violence. everything, really. danger!

The floor of Coriolanus and [Y/N]’s bedroom used to be hardwood. She would hear him on his way in when he worked late at the Citadel. The creaking floorboards typically snapped her out of sleep. Recently, Coriolanus decided on carpeting the room, full well knowing that he often woke up [Y/N] with his returns. If she stayed asleep, she asked less questions. The carpet was rich and purple. Tastefully purple, like a mauve. Coriolanus did not tolerate tacky like most ‘Capitol Phonies’ as [Y/N] called them when he would get agitated with couture, fashion and consumer trends.

When Coriolanus entered the room tonight, he was not concerned with waking his lover like usual. He was furious and he wanted attention. Coriolanus threw the door open with a bang. He came in like a shot. [Y/N] sat bolt up right in bed at the unexpected noise so late at night. She went from asleep to over alert. With practiced ease, she yanked open the bedside table’s white drawer and reached for the handgun Coriolanus had gotten her as an anniversary present. The wife of a young Senator couldn’t afford to take risks.

[Y/N] extended her arm, pointing the gun where her tired eyes spotted movement and undid the safety. She blinked once. Then twice. It was clear that it was Coriolanus, not a murderer. Not a murderer that would do her harm, anyway.

“Fuck!” Coriolanus said, raising his hands in surprise. “Darling, it’s me. Drop it!”

She would have known his footsteps if he hadn’t put in carpet.

“Coryo, good god. Don’t do that!” [Y/N] screamed. Instantly, she snapped the safety back on and dropped the gun back in the drawer. “I could have shot you! What time is it?”

“I—I don’t know! Late!” Coriolanus shouted and shrugged his jacket off. “Fuck!” [Y/N] watched his burgundy coat smack into the wall as he tossed it in frustration. Coriolanus didn’t usually get visibly angry. Instead, he got cold. There was door slamming sometimes to end an argument, maybe dirty possessive sex, but normally, he became calculating vile to be around instead of petulantly rage-filled.

Today must have been a bad day.

He almost got shot to top it off.

“I’m sorry,” [Y/N] said like she was attempting to defuse a bomb. She had only had to speak to him like that once or twice in her years of knowing him. Normally, Coriolanus found that tone condescending. “Coryo, come here.”

Coriolanus made no mind of her words. He continued to pull off his clothes a layer at a time clumsily. He pulled at his hair, he groaned sounds of anguish barely below a holler, he even threw one of his beautifully polished shoes across the room. Real, adult male rage. The kind you stayed away from.

“Coriolanus Snow, you’re going to hurt yourself!” [Y/N] shouted. “You’re gonna… hurt me, or break something. What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] said cautiously while she climbed out of bed in her nearly transparent red nightie.

Coriolanus breathed heavily. He was trying to sooth his anger. He knew this behavior, this blackout rage, was unbecoming. His eyes focused on [Y/N]’s, and then [Y/N]’s throat, then [Y/N]’s dress, and what was visible under [Y/N]’s dress. His breathing slowed a bit and he pushed his loose curls out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You still with me?” [Y/N] asked, stepping into where he stood. “Coryo, look at me,” [Y/N] commanded. She reached out with a hand as if Coriolanus was a wild animal that might bite her and slowly placed it on the side of his cheek. Gently, she guided him to look down at her. He stared down at her almost expressionlessly. [Y/N] reached up with her free hand to tucked Coriolanus’s long hair out of his face. “What happened? The truth, preferably.”

“Where… Where’d you get that nightgown?” Coriolanus deflected.

“Bought it last week.”

“It’s very striking on you. You aren’t cold in that thing?”

[Y/N] shook her head and dropped her hand from Coriolanus’ face. She thought her window for some sort of talk about why he had behaved like that had latched closed. “No.” She sighed. [Y/N] spent another moment examining Coriolanus with her eyes to make sure that he wasn’t hurt or completely falling to pieces standing before her in merely his crisp black pinstriped trousers and belt. Once she felt her once over was sufficient, she turned to walk back to the bed to lay down.

“I… I lied to someone when I should have told them the truth,” Coriolanus started as [Y/N] climbed back under the pristine white covers on their bed. “It was a miscalculation and I suspect it’s going to take… work to… eradicate the rest of problem entirely.”

He was incapable of saying ‘I made a mistake and my actions have consequences’ like a normal person. All the same, relinquishing that information cost him a lot emotionally. He didn’t share burdens. Coriolanus didn’t share anything.

“This was another Senator?”

“It involves another Senator, yes,” he said. “It’s inconvenient.”

“Fix it,” she said. There was no more advice to be offered on the subject without argument and she knew that Coriolanus would fix it, by whatever means necessary. [Y/N] patted the bed beside her again. “Come to bed.”

Coriolanus climbed into bed stiffly and laid beside [Y/N]. He settled for laying in an uncomfortable, temporary position because he did not expect to fall asleep in his pressed slacks. She wrapped an arm around him and yanked him on top of her, forcing his head to rest on her chest. Coriolanus liked it when [Y/N] let him use her like a pillow. [Y/N]’s heart went so fast when he was near like that. Coriolanus wondered if it was because she was afraid of him. He smiled.

“Did you get this nightgown for me?” Coriolanus asked. He traced the sheer fabric around one of [Y/N] nipples and watched the bud become stiffer with every rotation. He did that to her, not some no-talent, inexperienced Senator who probably couldn’t keep his own dick hard.

[Y/N] scoffed with her bottom lip captured between her straight teeth. “Who else?” She said plainly.

“You got all dressed up in this and I didn’t even get home on time, huh?” He said, sounding almost disappointed. Coriolanus’ finger slid under the strap of the dress and snapped it against her skin.

“There’s always tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t live with you,” [Y/N] chanced sliding her fingers into his hair. Coriolanus often hated when she touched his overly manicured hair, but [Y/N] knew he found it soothing in a moment of private vulnerability. She knew he liked the attention. [Y/N] tangled her fingers in his white blonde hair, combing out the product he had put in it that morning to hold it in place. Coriolanus let her. “You’re so tense. Relax.” [Y/N] said.

“Can’t. Go back to sleep, Darling. I might go for a run, think.”

“…You could discuss your miscalculation.”

Coriolanus was silent. That was a no without saying no. [Y/N] tugged his hair carefully in frustration. “Please stay here with me. If you go out, I’ll be all nerves til you’re properly back with me,” She said. “Stay. I’m awake now… Blow off some steam. The adrenaline of pointing a gun at my husband’s going to keep me awake for a while too.”

“I never should have bought you that,” Coriolanus said firmly, but maintained a smirk. “If I stayed with you all day, you would have no reason for needing the gun. You wouldn’t ever have to wear clothes either. Well, what you’re wearing now is hardly clothes to begin with.”

“I’m sorry. About the gun, not the nightgown,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus stole kisses across parts of her exposed and covered chest. Eventually his mouth came to rest over her clothed left nipple, with his teeth giving it a gentle tug. “Coryo…” [Y/N] whimpered.

“You want me to relax, here’s me,” Coriolanus leaned up and kissed [Y/N]’s lips. “Relaxing.” He smirked.

[Y/N] genuinely never did know if Coriolanus was out-of-his-mind obsessed with her, or if he told her what she wanted to hear because that kind of talk made Coriolanus feel better about himself in a roundabout way. Either way, she got something out of it, so complaining at this stage felt unimportant.

Sustaining two deluded minds in a relationship meant both parties had to consistently 1) lie, 2) obsess over minutia, 3) fuck.

See, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t just fucking either. The pair could not love. Something had happened to each of them that made real romantic or intimate compatibility impossible. Their intentions for the other weren’t selfless, but they mutually let other believe they were.

They were perfect together.

They had unified strength, a need for control and that beloved little thing that made them work: obsession; fundamentally. To hear one of them talk manically about the other, was to see the face of God. To each of them, the other was the only person who had ever kept them from getting bored, so they made it work. It was the endless chase that kept them going. That, and a constant need to outdo the other. Daily, they engaged in a delicate pantomime of intimacy and all their world was the stage.

“Did you hurt someone, honey?” [Y/N] moaned as Coriolanus kissed her, bucking her hips up. “You only act like this when you’ve hurt someone. Y-you, oh fuck, you know I don’t care.” She said.

“Cut it out.” He snapped.

“Who.”

“How many times before have I told you not to ask?” Coriolanus said, pulling his lips away from her chest and instead leaned back to bury two fingers inside her wetness to affirm his point. He had already noticed she hadn’t been wearing panties under the translucent nightie, so it was easy.

[Y/N] inhaled sharply at the abrupt stretching sensation and shut her eyes. “I wasn’t asking, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus stretched her further, eliciting an explicit moan from [Y/N]. She clawed at the fabric of the only stitches he had left: his trousers.

Through gritted teeth, Coriolanus choked out “Festus Creed.”

“Festus?” [Y/N] said as she sat up on her elbows. They had known him since they were children. Coriolanus didn’t stop fucking her brutally with his hand. “Coryo… You didn’t.”

“He said something he shouldn’t have and he took his coffee too sweet to notice before it was too late. The only worry is if someone saw. Eyes everywhere. It was too public.” Coriolanus grunted. He felt himself getting hard from watching his wife fuck herself on his long fingers whilst he confessed to killing a childhood companion.

[Y/N] knew it was in poor taste to feel so good from hearing something so awful. She did not care because who was going to judge her in the privacy of her own home? She let out her most wanton moan yet when Coriolanus pressed in a third finger. He knew had an advantage in the conversation considering their current position. Coriolanus knew exactly what she wanted and that he was not going to get her to cum just from the penetration of his fingers. Effortlessly, he slid his thumb over her clit and rubbed it quickly. “W-why…” [Y/N] tried her best to sound coherent.

“He wanted something that wasn’t his.” Coriolanus muttered, leaning his mouth into [Y/N]’s bare neck.

This could have meant Festus had coveted her, or that he had coveted the presidency. Whatever it was, Coriolanus didn’t like his foods to touch and took care of the problem. [Y/N] let herself believe that out of the possible options, it was her that had gotten in the way of the two men’s relationship. It made her grin an unfortunate grin.

“Coriolanus, you sh-shouldn’t have d-done that,” [Y/N] said. Her thighs were practically shaking. “That was a mistake.” She tried. It was a mistake. Logically, she knew that. [Y/N]’s quivering hands unbuckled his belt. Carefully, she slid the fine black leather through the metal fixings and soft fabric loops. It stayed clutched in her hand.

“What was a mistake?” Coriolanus asked coyly. “This?” His hand slid out of her, making [Y/N] yelp at its absence.

At least [Y/N] was able to think clearer without his hand in her folds. [Y/N] clutched the belt in her hands tighter. “Fuck you.” [Y/N] said. She sat up further causing Coriolanus to lean back further. Her temper flared. She hated how much Coriolanus liked it when she got angry. Of course none of her feelings were really her own with out Coriolanus’ desire and interests. Her temper escalated until she could feel a full throbbing in her left armpit and side. [Y/N] also hated how aroused she still felt. Her friend was dead, after all. She sent a silent prayer to Festus, wherever he ended up.

[Y/N] knew this desire she had was going to be a challenge, but she wanted to punish Coriolanus carnally. Everything was too easy for him as it was.

When Coriolanus sat up against the fluffy pillows and the metal headboard, [Y/N] wasted no time climbing into his lap. She stared seriously into his blue eyes for a moment and leaned into his ear. “I’m extremely disappointed in you.” She said.

Nervousness coursed through her veins. Coriolanus was going to be very upset with her. She grasped Coriolanus’ left wrist in the same hand that held his belt. In one fluid motion, [Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ other wrist and clutched them over his head. She pressed his wrists together and linked them with the belt. Before she locked the belt on itself, she pushed his beautiful pale hands against the metallic headboard she was so familiar with chained to herself and cinched the belt closed fast enough to rash up Coriolanus’ delicate wrists.

Coriolanus looked at her in stunned shock. He tried to pull against the belt once.

Twice.

Three times.

It jerked the metal bedframe with a crack.

“What the fuck is this?” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth.

“Punishment. You… I… I said I was extremely disappointed in you. You created a significant amount of unnecessary stress because… Because what? A man I’ve known since I was twelve wanted to share your toys? Is that it?”

The crease between Coriolanus’ eyebrows deepened and his eyes. [Y/N] popped the button on Coriolanus’ pants.

“Now, I’m gonna get some pleasure out of you if it kills me. For my sake, not yours.” [Y/N] said. She shimmied Coriolanus’ pants and boxers down to his knees. Coriolanus wasn’t making this movement easy for her with his wriggling.

“[Y/N], get me out of this. Now!” Coriolanus commanded. At the noise, she grabbed his cock and circled her thumb around its head a few times. He was a leaking mess; he liked this more than he implied. Coriolanus let out a whimper, whether from pleasure or being emasculated. Either would do.

“No.” [Y/N] said softly. She released his cock and climbed properly back onto his lap and slowly sank all the way down on his painfully hard cock. Coriolanus was tall and broad so it was never a surprise to [Y/N] that he was so big. She herself moaned at the familiar stretch of taking him in all the way. [Y/N] rolled her hips to compensate as she settled. [Y/N] chose not think about the consequences for what she was doing. She thought about Coriolanus instead. She glanced down at Coriolanus. Of course he looked frustratingly gorgeous. He always did. His hair looked extremely tousled and his eyes were truculent. His jaw clenched in a grimace of some passionate emotion.

[Y/N] had never seen Coriolanus below her like this. She liked it.

Coriolanus thrusted his hips up, but [Y/N] sat still, not dignifying his need with a response. “No, this is an apology. This is for me now, not you.”

“[Y/N], please—“

Begging so soon?

[Y/N] fucked herself on his cock sharply. Repeatedly, she lifted herself high and slammed herself back down his length. She had no idea sex felt so good in this position.

“Coryo, I want an apology for whatever this is. You should be ashamed of what you’ve done. Are you?”

Silence. He looked away from her.

“I asked you a question.” [Y/N] whispered when she leaned in to bite Coriolanus’ earlobe.

“No.” He said. [Y/N] leaned back and struck him with her open palm. She smiled to herself as she did so, thinking of the night of their engagement party. How striking his pale face always looked with the contrast of a stiff red mark on it.

“[Y/N]!” Coriolanus shouted at the stinging sensation, pulling at his restraints. Coriolanus hated not feeling in control. He wanted to hold [Y/N], to squeeze her, to devour her alive.

[Y/N] leaned to clutch his bound forearms, bouncing up and down sickeningly fast. “You’re not ashamed? Guilty? You think this is deserved, this cruelty?” He didn’t have to answer for [Y/N] to know he didn’t feel ashamed. Coriolanus couldn’t feel shame quite like that, only self pity. He let out another moan at her words. [Y/N] clawed her nails down his biceps on a journey to his abdomen. “Coryo, apologize to me.” She purred.

“I…” Coriolanus started to apologize, but [Y/N] began sucking brutal hickeys on his neck first, then collarbones. He could barely string a sentence together at the sensation. By the time he had four blossoming bruises on the marble column of his throat, he was writhing beneath [Y/N]. He was getting frustrated. Every time he tried to buck his hips naturally (or desperately) into hers, she refused to move or acknowledge until he stopped.

“Fine! I’m sorry!” He spat, barely conscious of his words.

“For what?”

“F-Festus.” He said quietly.

“What was that, honey?” She teased, twisting one of his nipples.

“Please don’t make me talk about another man when I’m fucking you…” Coriolanus whimpered. “Undo the belt, Darling, we can—“

“Too late. What are you sorry for?” She said, rolling her hips into his. “Tell me you’re sorry or there’s no chance I let you finish.”

“Festus!”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry about Festus. It was a mistake. PLEASE! Let me fucking cum!”

He wasn’t sorry at all. While he came into his wife, all Coriolanus could think about was how awfully good it felt to kill someone if it meant his wife would be on him like this.

—

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow

sorry if tags didn’t work! i tried!

[petew21-blog]

Friends with benefits

Two long time friends Trent and Brett. A classic story. Met in kindergarten and have been friends since. Grew up together. Spent their holidays together. Graduated together. But then stopped seeing each other as often. Why? Because adult life ain't easy. Brett had to find a job while Trent got into college, graduated and on top of that became a fitness influencer. Brett started his Twitch account and became a gamer, which he had time for, cause how he was constantly doing a different job, depending on what he could find. But both of them always took some time off for a beer with their buddy.

This is Trent

Although he doesn't appear like that, he is a 24 year old male with young looks

On the other hand Brett is also young, but his looks are a bit more mature. Maybe it's because of all the hair

This is Brett

So hairy.

Normal guys, right? Well something was about to change very soon

Friday, August 2nd, 5 PM

Brett:"Hey, dude. Wanna grab a beer later tonight?"

Trent:"Yeah, sure. I am down. Is 8:30 ok? I gotta finish a video"

Brett:"Oh yeah, totally fine. See you then"

Friday, August 2nd, sports bar, 8:33 PM

At the bar Brett waits patiently, only his leg is slightly shaking. Trent comes in through the door. It's kinda funny, cause Trent used to be really insecure and not confident. Now he looks basically like a god. But still, he has this cute shy looking guy whose face doesnt match his body and the fact that he's 24. Brett was kinds jealous, most of the people that didn't know him always thought he was older because of his looks. Trent had the opposite problem. Always had to show ID whenever he went. Yet Brett was probably more jealous about his life in general. He finished school, took great care of his body, which now could help him hook up with anyone he would set his mind to.

Brett:"Hey, maaaan. How are you doing?"

Trent:"Heyyy. Yeah good. You know, single influencer life, haha"

Brett:"The ladies must be driving you crazy"

Trent:"If only it were just ladies. Haha. You should see the messages some of these gay dudes keep sending me. It's insane"

Brett:"You tell me. They always send random shits to my chats while playing. But it's mostly dumb kids."

Trent:"I think we should find you a date for tonight"

Brett:"Nahhh, fuck it. I'm not in the mood. I just wanna chat with my bro."

After a few beers

Brett:"Shut up, you did not!"

Trent:"I swear. She came on to me without a word."

Brett:"So what did you do?"

Trent:"You think I put up a fight? Haha"

Brett:"Maaaan. I want this stuff to happen to me to. That's so hot"

Trent:"Come with me to the gym then, I bet more chicks woukd be into you if you would gain some muscles"

Brett:"You calling me fat?"

Trent:"No, just saying that all that body hair would be good to match with a good body. You're just a walking gorilla right now"

Brett:"Oh shut up twink! Haha"

They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes and went home.

Brett felt amazing. He really needed to get a beer with his best friend. He came back home, sat behind his computer and searched Dark web. He already knew what he was looking for. He wanted to mess with Trent. Just a another one of his pranks. All he needed was Trent's personal item. He found the body swapping website. He read the rules and conditions and filled out his and Trents name. The only next step he had to follow was to go to sleep. And so he did. Only taking off his shirt in the process and collapsing on the bed. Not even brushing his teeth

Brett woke up feeling better than ever. He was used to have a hangover by now, but today he felt great. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the different sheets. He looked around. This is Trent's place.

Brett:"Trent?" he said, but he heard Trent's voice.

He turned around to get up

His body. He has a different body

Brett:"Holy shit. It worked" he said amused. He looked down at his now soft chest. He got up

Brett:"Oh wow. getting up is so different when you have these hard muscles"

He went to the nearest mirror. And there he was. Trent in his glory. Brett was so happy right now. His prank worked. He is now inside of his best friends body. And the pranks probably won't stop there. Now he can mess with him all he wants. But not now.

He looked from top to bottom how tall and slim his body was. "Almost no hair anywhere. Lucky guy"

He took Trent's phone and snapped a photo to send it to Trent in his body. He knew it would take a while for Trent to wake up so he proceeded in his exploration.

He felt his curly hair. "How come you don't even have widow's peak? So unfair" He traced his jawline, now with tiny baby hair that Brett wouldn't even call a beard. But his sight was now caught by those nice Calvin Klein's. He looked around as if there was someone in the room with him who would judge him. He pulled on the waistband

Brett:"Just as I thought. Also shaved" he grabbed his new dick, that was getting harder and harder by the second, when suddenly his phone received a notification. he let go of his dick

It was Trent. Brett:"Haha, this is gonna be good"

There was a photo of Brett's body, observing his hairy armpits in shock

Trent in Brett's body:"Hey. Got any idea why I am a gorilla now? And why that gorilla looks exactly like you?"

Brett:"Surpriseee. And fuck you"

Trent:"So this is your doing?"

Brett:"Yeah, I kinda wanted to prank you somehow for all the pranks and the gorilla jokes. Joke's on you ape man"

Trent:"Fuck you. So this is reversible?"

Brett:"Sure, man. No worries. We'll meet tonight at the bar again and chat how our day went?"

Trent:"I don't know how to feel about this, bro"

Brett:"Just try enjoying being another person"

Trent:"Do you realise there are some no go things including intimate stuff and hygiene?"

Brett:"Sure I do. I'm already holding your dick in YOUR hands right now"

Trent:"Dude! Not cool. I meant more stuff like shitting etc. But yeah, this too."

Brett:"I gotta say Trent. You have a very nice dick"

Trent:"I'll comment on your size when I find it in the bushes I guess. Have you never heard of trimming?"

Brett:"Keeping it natural, baby face"

Trent:"Fine, let's see each other tonight at 8, ok?"

Brett:"Enjoyyy" Hangs up

Trent:"Jesus, this guy. I hope he doesn't fuck up something or someone"

Starts observing himself. "I must say, It feels good to look like a mature man and not a teenager. All of this hair. And the moustache is hot too. I could never grow this thing"

Trent looked down and had a mischievous thought. "Well, Brett. Since you have already held my dick, I think it's time to step it up. Gonna see if you can last longer than I do" Trent said with a smile and whipped out his new hard hairy dick

Saturday August the 3rd, bar, 8:04 PM

Brett is sitting amused in the bar, eating chips on the table and drinking beer. Winking at the ladies looking at his direction.

A waitress came by his table:"Want another?"

Brett noticed his old incoming body:"Sure, and another one for my friend who just arrived. Thank you, sweetheart" he said as his flirtatious look almost seduced the local waitress

Trent:"You need to stop!"

Brett:"What? I was just flirting"

Trent:"Not that. Stop eating those chips. God knows how many calories you ate already"

Brett:"So you don't mind that I was flirting with her?"

Trent:"Nah, I don't care. I jerked off your dick for like the fifth time half an hour ago"

Brett:"What? You beast. I would have never expected that. Cool. You have a really good dick to jerk off too. I didn't expect to shoot so far tho. Made a bit of a mess"

A couple off bikers started eavesdropping to their conversation and turning heads

Trent:"You might want to quiet down, or we're gonna get beaten up for mistakenly speaking like gay guys"

Brett:"But you gotta admit that my body is not so bad, right? All the hair and everything. You like it"

Trent:"It's not bad, but I prefer being in my own body. I'm used to it."

Brett:"Ok, I'll pretend I didn't hear the part before about masturbation. But what do you say? We didn't even have enough time to see what the life is like in our new bodies. It's only been a day"

Trent:"And your point is?"

Brett:"Let's stay swapped for a while. We can swap back anytime we want. It's reversible. We know almost everything about each other, so pretending to be the other one will be easy. You'll just teach me your workout routine, I'll show you... what games to play and how to set up a livestream and we'll figure it out"

Trent:"Livestream? That's all you got?"

Brett:"Come on, man. We got nothing to loose"

Trent:"I don't know man. It's gonna be complicated. I agreed to leave for a few weeks to work at one of our gym branches in another city. And now you'll be the one that has to go. I think now is not the best time"

Brett:"So? I can update you about everything. We can chat all the time. We can call. And I got nothing to do. Actually, you might need to find some job for those few weeks. And there's never gonna be a better time then now. We're single, ready to mingle. So let's enjoy that month"

Trent:"You wanna stay swapped the whole tíme I'm gone?"

Brett:"Yeah, I'll be a fitness instructor/viral star and you'll ne enjoying my chill life"

Trent:"Chill life. Man, you won't even recognise your life when we'll swap back"

Brett:"So you agree?"

Trent:"Yeah, what the hell. I'll be a gorilla for a month"

Brett:"Deal. Now, let's see if you'll have a better game in finding a hookup then me"

Sunday, August 4th

Brett sends a text to Trent:"Why do I feel like my body still hasn't gone through puberty?"

Trent:"Piss off. Yours looks like it went trough yours several times."

Brett:"Nah, gotta be honest. I'm really enjoying this lean figure and hairless body"

Trent:"And my dick..."

Brett:"Haha, yeah and your dick. How are you doing in my body?"

Trent:"Feels pretty weird to be so hairy, but gotta admit it's a nice change. Like... feeling so manly"

Brett:"Yeah, but tip for that hairy stomach. Don't cum on it. It's really irritating to get cum from it"

Trent:"Never had the issue in my body, so yeah. Thanks for the tip"

Brett:"No problem. I had to try it out in yours haha"

Trent:"Doesn't this feel kinda gay to you? All the dick and jerk off talk. Appreciating each other's bodies"

Brett:"Nah. We're exploring, man. Who knows if we ever get that chance. Gotta enjoy it"

Wednesday August 7th

Trent:"How are you settling in?"

Brett:"Yeah. Pretty great. I just jerked off to some porn"

Trent:"Ew. I mean the appartement"

Brett:"Whooops. Sorry. Right. Yeah it's nice. Very clean. Very modern"

Trent:"It's yours only for a month so don't destroy anything there"

Brett:"It's kinda poetic right. New appartement, new body, new job"

Trent:"I don't see anything poetic about me playing games in front of a camera"

Brett;"Dude you have to. My fans are gonna wonder what happened to me"

Trent:"Fine. I'll log in tonight. By the way. Dude your feet smell so much when you work out."

Brett:"Work out? You took my body to the gym?

Trent:"Yeah. I had to show off these bushes somewhere, right?"

Brett:"Ahhh thanks man. Looking good"

Trent:"And I think oke girl was checking you... me out"

Brett:"If you can score than go for it. I'm actually late for a date. Or... how do you call it if you're just gonna have dinner and fuck?"

Trent:"Standard hook up man. Please be safe. Wear a condom. And watch our foe those carbs, man."

Brett:"Sure thing, bye"

Monday, August 12 th

Brett:"Dude do you like ever have to shave your face?"

Trent:"Sure I do. I just don't have to do it so often as you. Btw can I please shave off this moustache?"

Brett:"Absolutely not. You'll learn to love it and appreciate it. Just like I will your baby face"

Saturday, August 17th

Brett:"I have to admit I really love showing off your muscles man. I have been doing it constantly at every occassion. So many people turn their heads to take a peak"

Trent:"Yeah I get it. It helps with the confidence a bit"

Brett:"A bit? I feel like I can beat any fucker whk crosses me"

Trent:"Brett, please don't beat anyone in my body"

Brett:"Just kidding, man. How have you been"

Trent:"Well I tried being consistent with the gym. I think your body is doing pretty well"

Brett:"Daaaamn bro. I look good. You really do take care of my body really well"

Trent:"I was actually thinking I could offer this for money. Swapping with people, doing their routines and then swap back. But that's a talk for another time after we swap back"

Brett:"Yeha, sure. Cool idea. Anyway... how was the streaming?"

Trent:"I don't know, man. I think they are desperste for me to say your catchphrases, but they are so cringe."

Brett:"Nah, you have to do that. That's how you get into Tiktoks and become viral"

Trent:"Honestly. I can't wait to get back to my body and to my life back. So we will swap on September 2nd?

Brett:"Yeah. I suppose. Depends how the work will be etc. Anyway I gotta go man. Talk soon"

Trent to himself:"It feels like he's avoiding me with amswering more and more. Trent rubbed his hairy chest, recalling his sweet soft pecs that he missed.

Thursday, August 22nd

Trent:"Hey, man. How is it going?"

Friday, August 23rd

Trent:"Hey. I just wanna know if you're ok. I just wanna talk about the reversal."

Saturday:"please call me back as soon as possible"

Sunday, August 25th

Brett:"I'm ok"

Trent:"What the hell happened?"

Brett:"Nothing I just felt like I needed a break from phone and that stuff"

Trent:"Brett you didn't answer the phone for 4 days"

Brett:"Ok, I was avoiding you, cause I kinda fucked up and was afraid to tell you"

Trent:'What did you do? Is my body ok?"

Brett:"Yeah your body is unharmed. Nothing that bad. We just had a party in the appartement. Broke the TV and... I had unprotected sex with one girl. She didn't know if she was pregnant or not. So I was waiting. And congrats. You're not gonna be a dad"

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett:"I know. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again. Promise. I just got drunk once and it led to this. I'll be good now"

Trent:"Please, don't do anything anymore. I want to switch back"

Brett:"Nah man. We still gotta week to finish. You said until September 2nd."

Trent:"I didn't know you'd do something like this"

Brett:"Please Trent. I'm begging you. Just that one week"

Trent:"Fine. But don't do anything else!"

Sunday, September 1st

Brett:"Hey. Are you packed yet?"

Trent:"Hey. Not really. I planned on packing tommorow. You can come and help if you got time"

Brett:"Sure. I'll come by"

Monday, September 2nd

Trent arrives to the appartement. Brett is on the couch playing video games

The TV is new and there is a PlayStation on the table

Trent:"You didn't tell me you got back into gaming and that you bought all this."

Brett:"Yeha, I missed it. I thought to myself that you'd like it too. So I bought it. By the way. You should see how the fans dig it"

Trent:"Fans? You're live streaming in my body?"

Brett:"Yeah. The gamers are so into it when I'm flexing in the spare time. I even got a viral Tiktok already!"

Trent:"I think we should swap back, Brett. My life is out of your control now."

Brett:"I'm just using all the goods, man. You don't like my body anymore?"

Trent:"Stop changing the subject. I want to swap back"

Brett:"Ok... but on one condition"

Trent:"You want money?"

Brett;"Nah I want to have sex with my body. I want to have sex with you."

Trent:"You have lost your mind"

Brett:"Oh come on. Admit it, that you thought about it. Who gets the chance to fuck their body? To watch their body in the most animalistic moments from somebody else eyes?" Brett flexes his biceps to let Brett watch

Trent:"Brett..."

Brett stands up and goes towards Trent

Brett:"You know you want to kids thus face. To suck this hard dick" he says holding tightly his hardening bulge

Trent:"I... I do. I want to suck my dick"

Brett:"Atta boy"

They begin making out. The fast movements heading towards the bedroom could be described as chaotic, but for them it was a dance of passion. Brett was ripping his old clothes from his old body was all over his body, kissing his neck. Sucking each part of his skin

The kissed even more

Brett began to be more dominant. He gripped Trent's now receding hairline and pushed him down to suck his dick. Trent was choking. But did his best to swallow most of the shaft he now had. He had his dick in his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He is straight and he is sure of that. But this is absolutely different

Brett took his old body by the neck, choking him. "Say you love being in my body"

Trent:"Brett I can't breathe"

Brett:"Fine, let's do this the hard way"

He turned him around. Trent now on all fours. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't ready

Brett spit in his hand and spread it all over the head od his dick. Ready to penetrate his old hairy hole

Trent:"Brett wait... I... Ahhhhhhhh". Trent screamed in pain

Brett:"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just so horny. I love your body, Trent. I love every inch od it. Admit you like mine"

Trent:"Brett, please slow down"

Brett:"Naaah, you'll get used to it in a sex"

Trent:"Please, get lube or something"

Brett spit again to where his dick was penetrating Trent's ass. Brett:"Should do it"

Trent was still in pain, but now a new feeling was making him feel better. The pain was now... pleasant? He wanted to feel more. With every thrust from Brett. He felt like shitting himself and cumming at the same time

Brett:"Admit it. Admit you love being in my body" he sped up. Thrusting painfully.

Trent:"Yeah.... yes..."

Brett:"Louder"

Trent:"I do... I love your body. I love being you"

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm gonna cum. Turn around. I want to cum on your chest"

Trent turned around. He could feel cum leaking from his dick. And now he saw his old face like he never did before. Brett was so into it. His face was full of lust, rage and mischief.

Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm cumming!"

The cum shot all over Trent. Not only on his chest, but also on his mouth and face

Trent watched in awe what just happened.

Brett:"Whew. That was a ride wasn't it? First gay sex. Am I right?"

Trent:"Brett... I?"

Brett:"Oh sorry. I have to catch my breath. You look so funny with my cum all over you. Haha. By the way. I'm glad you love your new body. You get to keep it"

Trent:"Brett, you said we would swap"

Brett:"Yeah I did. That's true. But after this little 'cum over your face' and 'dick in your ass' we made it permanent"

Trent watched in shock as his old body was still standing on top of him. Breathing rapidly and laughing.

Several months later

Hi my name is Brett. Welcome to my only fans channel. If you got any hairy request, hit me up

Brett in Trent's body:"Well this is just pathetic. Man, I knew you'd crumble. But this just seems you lost your mind"

Trent's massive colleague came next to him:"Hey, bro. What are you looking at?"

Brett:"Just looking how one of my friends threw away their life, kinda sad. But whatever. Their life, not mine"

Friend:"Hey, wanna grab a beer later this evening?"

Brett scanned his friend from top to bottom and smiled:"Sure thing. Be there at eight"

Brett thought about switching it up a little. That body would be amazing. But then he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. And flexed

Brett:"Nah. I'm Trent. And I'm keeping this body"

A request from messages (another one who waited for a LONG time, sorry guys) for @swappwas

Hope you like it :)

P.S. written late at night on a phone with a very irritating autocorrect, so please excuse the mistakes

[starcurtain]

Everyone on Twitter playfully dragging Aventurine for his crop top and track pants fit, and while I agree that this is hilarious and should be meme'd into oblivion, I also can't help but think that the Aventurine fandom as a whole should definitely embrace turning "He's kind of tacky, wouldn't know a subtle outfit unless it was picked by Jade, and wears bizarrely out-of-touch fits on his days off just because he personally thinks they look cool" into an endearing fanon character trait.

Because like, canonically? It makes perfect sense.

As a child, his family didn't have the luxury of giving him a wide variety of clothes in different styles or fabrics. He wore what he could get. Then, we're only ever shown adult Kakavasha wearing rags until joining the IPC.

We know from his character stories that he was kept extremely out of the loop on world news and mainstream media as a slave and literally wouldn't know anything about clothing other than seeing it on other people.

From the time he was a child, wearing whatever his family could pull together, to the time he became an adult prisoner wearing literal scraps, there was never a need or even reasonable opportunity for him to learn about fashion or the social pressures of "dressing to fit in."

The first thing he's told to do as a member of the Stonehearts is "Go pick out new clothes," and the next time we see him, he's wearing the most peacock-esque outfit possible. When Jade told him to pick out his clothes, he literally went in completely blind with no lessons on how to appropriately dress for any adult occasion at all.

While I do think that one of the first things Aventurine would have done as a new Stoneheart is research how to establish a certain "character" for himself and how to dress to give a specific impression, I also think that Aventurine would delight in finally, finally having the power to present himself exactly as he chooses--and that would likely be very strongly informed by an entire child- and young-adulthood growing up without a single social pressure to "dress normal."

Given that he never had someone to teach him how to dress in any modern intergalactic style in his formative years, I think that it makes perfect sense for his "fashion" sense to be extremely unique to him, with little outside influence except for being strongly based on what he knows best: the luxuries the Avgin people could gather from the deserts of Sigonia-IV.

Ratio accuses him of being "flashy," but Aventurine likely loads up all his personally-picked outfits with turquoise jewels, fur trim, and gold metal accents because that's what he grew up perceiving as status symbols and signs of prosperity. Of course he's flashy! Why would he not want to wear furs and jewels now that he has them?! What do you mean wearing six gold bangles is overkill with a t-shirt? No such thing as overkill, come on!

Topaz dropping the Star Rail equivalent of "You look like what would happen if Fashion Week was themed on the yakuza and the Roaring 20s at the exact same time" every other month.

"Well, I think it looks great!"

tl;dr: Aventurine can definitely do his research and blend his outfits into any scenario if needed, but when left to his own devices, he absolutely wears the most over-the-top and/or bizarrely unmodern and "I couldn't care less what is currently trending" fits because no one ever taught him fashion sense when he was growing up, he's finally got the autonomy to dress himself in whatever he thinks looks best, and he's still a little bit drunk on the opportunity to bath in the natural luxuries he longed for but could never have as a child.

Just sayin'.

[justsomestuffreally]

I think the Batkids reaction to a Bruce who isn't de-aged to 8 but rather 29 (pre-Jason death, post his adoption) would be fascinating. 

Their reaction would vary wildly:

Dick: Oh. Bruce is soft again. Bruce calls them ‘chum’ and ‘buddy’ and gives head pats for no reason. He still isn’t perfect, his communication skills are still a work in progress, but compared to his future self? Without actively dying Dick is hugged plenty. Bruce asks him to go to the zoo, unrelated to any case, just to spend time together. Dick is hit with more nostalgia and longing for the past than he knows what to do with.

Also notable: his dad is younger than him. That is something. Second, holy existential crisis Batman, his dad is younger than him and already one adult and one teenage kid??? Dick is not ready to feel this old yet. Third, Dick has absolutely no idea how Bruce managed to stay patient through his no-pants years. He is going to thank reason every day from now on that Damian wears full protection.

Jason: After his death and League he clung to an image of Bruce. One many tried to beat out of him, but he still kept it somewhere close to his heart, buried deep enough even he couldn’t see it. When he came back Bruce wasn’t like this idea of him. How stupid of him to believe the mind of a traumatized kid. Trying to create one good thing before the kid drew his last breath. Making up memories that never even existed.

But they did. Every smile and hug and even his words reflect the image tugged safely against his still-beating heart. His dad very clearly, very deeply loves him. Which is so much worse. Because he can understand why a Bruce, who never cared, didn’t kill the Joker. But he cares. So why the fuck did he not kill the Joker?

Tim: The reason he joined the family, the reason why he became Robin in the first place was because he saw a problem when Bruce started self-destructing and thought ‘Someone needs to fix that!’. Therefore he went and collected Dick, who didn’t seem keen on fixing it. So, the job fell to him to fix it.

He thought he did a good job, he thought he fixed the problem. Except now he sees who Bruce was, and he knows he failed. Their Bruce is less soft, less affectionate, less like he was before. Batman needs a Robin and Tim didn’t manage to be good enough of one to save him. 

[Or: Tim has a guilt complex a hundred miles wide and blames himself for things that aren’t his fault part 52]

Steph: Jason and she are very similar. Both come from the Narrows, both have a mother addicted to drugs and a shitty father. The differences start when Steph keeps waiting on the roof of their apartment for Batman to whisk her away, while Jason tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile and is taken in.

When Steph started out as Spoiler Bruce tried to keep her off the field, and obviously this one would too (even if he would probably be less paranoid about it), but she knows this Bruce would have also taken her in. This Bruce would be the father she always wished for when she sat on their roof and couldn’t see any stars. 

And she didn’t get to have this because Jason went ahead and died. (Of course, she knows she isn’t fair to the guy. Dying isn’t fun… And she knows the only reason she lived is because he died. When Batman rescued her from Black Mask she was in such terrible shape that Leslie managed to convince the World’s Greatest Detective that she died. If Jason hadn’t died Bruce wouldn’t have been as paranoid, wouldn’t have noticed her missing so soon, wouldn’t have been as urgent in his response. Would have been just a minute slower, a minute which would have killed her. Just as it had Jason.)

For her, this Bruce is a distorted mirror into a past which never was. 

Cass: This Bruce and B are not the same person. They don’t move the same. In a fight, this Bruce is younger, faster, stronger. Doesn’t compensate for a previously broken spine. Less experienced. Still one of the most experienced she knows, but less. 

He still moves differently, outside a fight, less pain. More likely to engage in physical affection, more likely to hug and pat and talk. He talks more than B. B knows what she means without words. This Bruce doesn’t.

She likes this Bruce, warmth, and softness. But not as much as B. He knows what she means, when she wants a hug, when she tells him ‘I love you’ without words. B doesn’t need words. This Bruce doesn’t know her, doesn’t communicate like her. She wants B back.

Damian: At first, when this version of his father seemed uncanny and oddly familiar, he assumed it to be due to the stories of his mother. After all, she always told him tales about his father. He simply did not have the frame of reference to understand the kindness she spoke of. Clearly, the clash between the ideals of the League and the ones of his father causes these feelings, just as they did when he first entered the manor.

He presumed this to be the case until one day on patrol Batman laid a hand on his shoulder and told him he did a good job after no particularly impressive fight and he nearly called him ‘Grayson’. Because the stories of his mother may have painted the picture of this version of his father, however, it wasn’t what made it familiar; no, he knew this kindness. These hugs and compliments one would bestow upon a child. Compliments which, despite the indignity, still warm him. Because Grayson learned how to be a… caregiver from his father.

His father used to be like Grayson, used to be until his grief hardened him. Damian could have had this. Damian could have a brother and father who would- But he doesn’t because of Todd. He loathes Todd. Loathes him for ruining the life he could have had.

Why did he die anyway? Damian certainly wouldn’t have a problem escaping bonds created by the Joker, Damian would have disarmed the bomb in time, Damian would have never thrown this life away like he did.

[Or: Damian is a child who was raised by assassins and has unreasonable standards for fighting abilities and also is a child who needs to focus his rage on someone.]

Duke: He was neither there before Jason died nor in the aftermath [according to my math he was around 4 when Jason died] he joined the family when Jason was already back for 4 years or so. He mostly skipped all the drama. For him, Bruce is the way Bruce is because he is Bruce. It’s weird to see him so different, to see how grief shaped parts of Bruce which Duke assumed were just Bruce things.

He’s glad this Bruce is brighter, or not because it just highlights how much that light will dim? Who knows, certainly not him. 

What he does know is that, with their Bruce, he has a distance which, with his parents still alive, he appreciates. With this Bruce, he can understand why Dick struggled so much whether he wants to be his ward or son, how he doesn’t want to replace his parents but still have this Bruce as a dad. It definitely explained the ted talk Dick tried to give him after Bruce officially took him in as a ward.

He likes this Bruce well enough, but he doesn’t necessarily want him to stay this way. Yes, their Bruce is less happy, less open but he did heal, he did grow. Duke met a Bruce who tried to learn from his mistakes, learned to communicate better, and learned when to pull and when to push. For Tim, Damian, Dick, and certainly Jason there is too much baggage, too much history in their relationships, it’s difficult for them to ever move past- anything really.

Sure, when Dick and Bruce are on the same page they are essentially invincible but then the past catches up again and they don’t talk to each other for months. And honestly? Apart from Cass, Duke’s pretty sure he has one of the best relationships with Bruce simply because he got to know him at a better time.

Duke doesn’t mind this Bruce. But their Bruce loved Jason, cared for him so deeply the scars still show to this day. And he still chooses to open up again even if just a bit by bit. Even if just Duke can see it. He is used to being the only one that can see.

And maybe knowing this care extends to him, this love even grief can’t shake? Maybe it makes him feel just a little bit safer, a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter.