#but his smile doesn’t waver even when he cries out

[bluejaysandblackbats]

robin's egg blue

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: Tim's mom finds out who Batman is and stops Tim from becoming Robin in this AU.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Cassie Sandsmark, Helena Sandsmark, Diana Prince

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Janet Drake Lives, Jack and Janet Drake Get Divorced, Civilian Tim Drake, Tim Drake is Not Adopted, Tim Drake is Not an Only Child, Janet Drake-centric, Tim Drake Does Not Become Robin

Chapter Two: the end

They sat at the dinner table for their first family dinner in what felt like years. Janet poured apple juice into Tim’s cup before kissing his temple. Jack cut his steak into little bite-sized pieces while Tim made Janet’s plate. “Oh, Tim, you don’t have—.” 

“I want to,” Tim interrupted as he served her. Janet smiled and sat between Jack and Tim. Jack dug in while Tim made his plate and Janet poured a glass of wine for herself. 

He held up his empty glass, and she poured wine into it before announcing, “Your father and I wanted to discuss something with you.” 

Tim dropped his fork and took a sip of his juice. Jack was so engrossed in his meal that he didn’t hear his cue to speak. Janet’s jaw tightened as she nudged him. “Oh, um… This steak was cooked to perfection. Isn’t that right, Tim?” Jack asked. 

“Jack… Our discussion,” Janet emphasized through her teeth. 

“Oh! Tim, your mom and I were thinking about spending more time with you… And we wanted to know if you’d consider traveling with us,” Jack explained. Janet paused, waiting for Jack to keep speaking. 

“Or… We could stay home more,” Janet added. 

“We didn’t discuss that, Janet,” Jack whispered. Janet’s jaw jutted to the left as she realized Jack had no intention to stop traveling for work. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but a rapidly escalating argument cut him off. Tim tried to look down at his plate as he stuffed his face to ignore his pounding heartbeat. He hated it when his parents fought, but they usually tried to argue in the privacy of their bedroom. And they never argued about him before.  

The argument burned out of control like a forest fire until Janet said the one thing she couldn’t take back. “This is why I want a divorce!” Janet shouted. Tim couldn’t stomach it anymore. He pushed away from the table and rushed to the guest bathroom to throw up. Jack stood up and wavered as the wine took effect, and Janet rushed past Jack to check on Tim. 

“Tim? Can I come in?” Janet asked. Tim didn’t answer. “Make noise if you want me to stay outside.” Silence. 

She opened the door just wide enough to slide inside, and she sat on the floor beside him. He couldn’t stop shaking as he hunched over the toilet. Janet hesitated before rubbing his back, expecting him to flinch away or snap at her. Instead, he burst into tears. “Oh, Timmy… Sweetheart, I shouldn’t have said that. I meant it, but I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Janet whispered. Tim cried into the toilet bowl until Janet pulled him into her arms. “I know… I know, but it’s been a long time coming. It wasn’t your fault. You’re a good boy.” Janet held him close as she kissed his temple. 

“But you said it because—.” 

“I said it because it should’ve been said months ago… Maybe even years,” Janet interrupted, “I love you so so much. Your dad loves you too. He has his own way of showing it… But don’t ever doubt that we love you.” 

**

Janet stepped out of the shower, and Jack leaned forward in his chair, holding his head in his hands. “Janet…”

“What do you want me to say, Jack? Do you want me to lie to you? Say I didn’t mean it? Do you wanna pretend it doesn’t repulse you to sleep in the same bed with me?” Janet asked.

Jack sat up and pointed his finger at her. “Don’t you act like you weren’t acting like a twenty-year-old kid on spring break when we were in Liguria. Let’s go to the club, Jack. We were just dancing, Jack—. ”

“Jack, that was two years ago. I was right in front of you the entire time. I was drunk and nothing happened. You were looking right at me the entire time,” Janet whispered, “Is your ego really that fragile? You can’t handle the idea that I had fun dancing with a friend of mine—.” 

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you want to fall in love with me again. You didn’t want to rekindle this marriage, you were afraid—.”

“Stop,” Janet’s voice broke as she whispered it. Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“You’re afraid of who you are without me,” Jack replied. 

Janet sucked in a breath and shook her head. “And you aren’t? Aren’t you scared? We’ve been in this for seventeen years! We have a son! Everything is going to change… Everything. If I thought for a second that this could work—. When were you gonna talk to Tim? I held him tonight. He cried in my arms over this. If I could fall madly in love with you again and you with me, if I could watch Tim grow up if I could make everything fit into place—. Do you even want to be a father, Jack? You haven’t once given any consideration to Tim’s feelings,” Janet replied as she walked past him. She grabbed her pillow. 

“Where are you going?” Jack asked. 

“Guest bedroom… After I tell Tim that we love him because I’m tired of fighting,” Janet muttered. Jack sighed, letting Janet leave the bedroom.

Janet ran into Tim in the hallway, and he rubbed his arm. “Mom,” Tim whispered. Janet smiled at him.

“It’s okay, sweetie. We’re not gonna argue anymore. I was just about to say goodnight,” Janet whispered as she held back tears. Tim forced a smile and nodded. “I’m done traveling, Tim… I mean it. We love you so much.” 

“Mom… What’s gonna happen?” Tim questioned. Janet sighed and shook her head. 

“I don’t know,” Janet replied, “I think we could finally leave Gotham once this year is over… And I didn’t forget what I promised you.” She tapped Tim’s nose. 

“Are you going by yourself?” Tim questioned. Janet smoothed Tim’s hair down and leaned forward to look him in the eye. 

“It’s gonna be fine. I promise I won’t yell at him,” Janet replied. 

Tim grabbed her arm. “No, that’s not what I—. Maybe we should talk about a few things before you go,” Tim suggested. Janet yawned and nodded. 

“Okay… Sure, let’s sit in the guest room and talk… Oh, and before I forget, we need to deep clean your room tomorrow after school. Tim, I love you sweetheart, but your room is just ridiculous. What’s going on in there?” Janet chuckled. Tim rubbed his neck. 

“I’ve been a little busy lately,” Tim whispered. Janet laughed and let Tim into the guest bedroom before she climbed into bed and turned the TV on. 

Tim sat beside her, watching the TV while Janet stared at him. “You were so alert as a baby… Always observing… And so quiet. No one could make you laugh except for your dad. He once told me that you made him feel special. I think we were all at our happiest back then,” Janet whispered, “I never wanted kids before I had you… And I don’t know… Something shifted when I was pregnant with you. All I could think about was what it would feel like to hold you in my arms. Your birth was probably the closest I’ve ever gotten to a spiritual experience. It was frightening and painful, and I wanted to die… And all of a sudden, you were there and in my arms, and I knew I’d never accomplish anything greater than you in my life.” Janet sighed. 

“I’m sorry—.”

“Don’t be. I’m so proud of you… But you’re so selfless and driven that it frightens me a little bit. So, I want you to tell me more about this Batman business,” Janet whispered. Tim took a deep breath and nodded before telling her everything from the very beginning.

[phddyke]

Well… at least Adam didn’t wipe the smile off his face…

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, dubcon, yandere, bully/mean Gojo

gn reader - fem clothing

“Summer did you good, didn’t it?”

Your ears grate at the familiar voice. So smug you can feel the smirk before turning around to see it in all its pearly glory. 

“Leave me alone, Gojo.” You sigh, taking your drink before trying to slide passed him.

But he stands close – too close, still in the intimate club – so close his thigh brushes yours where you sit on the bar stool. “I’ll leave you alone… if you make it worth my while~”

Your nose scrunches. “Gross. I’d sooner fuck a curse.”

His smile doesn’t drop despite your insult. “I’ve got six eyes, you know…  You think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

Your eyes narrow, biting out a “What?” and his smile becomes a chuckle. 

“Short skirts and tight tops. Sitting here all alone.” His black shades dip when he looks down his nose at you, a knowing look in his loud blues. “You’re fishing- and lucky you got me hooked.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smack your teeth. “And now I'm throwing you back out to sea.”

You try again to hop off your seat, but he leans a hand against the bar and traps you there.

“Who’re you dressin’ up for then, hm?” He continues, getting in closer, bearing down until his lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering, “You know~  all guys are pigs. I guess you’re happy being slop in a trough.”

You put a hand on his chest, but it doesn’t budge him – and when he leans back again on his own, he flashes an even wider grin at you.

“I mean, hell- If I knew you were such a needy slut, I’d mercy-fuck you sooner- shoulda just said so-”

“Shut up.” You snap.

He tilts his head, feeling undeterred – actually, the opposite, offering another snicker. “Oh? Grown some balls under that skirt, too, hm?”

You make another grimace at his crudeness, deliberating throwing your drink in his face.

“What? A couple of compliments and free drinks, and suddenly, you think you’re too good for me?”

You’re reminded of the gap in your rank – why you should hold your tongue.

You sigh – defeatedly now. “Just leave me alone, Gojo-”

But he’s not done having his fun. 

“You’re nothing.” He flicks his tongue off his smile. “You’re a curseless loser- and you don’t have to have six eyes to see it.”

Hints of hurt flicker through the anger on your face, and your scowl wavers – turning into a pout while you look up at him, trying to hold it together. His grin spreads when he sees it, and his words grow colder, cutting deeper.

“Don’t kid yourself- only reason anyone’s lookin’ at yah twice s’cause it’s real hilarious watching your pathetic ass think you’re anything but a-”

“I get it.” You cut him off, voice weak. “You’ve made your point…”

You slide off your stool, squeezing past him with your head bowed to hide the tears welling in the corner of your eyes – threatening to slip if you waited a second longer.

But before you’re able to disappear into the crowd, you’re stopped once again by a hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Before you go, just know… if you ever decide to dress up like a little slut again- I’ll take it as an invitation.”

The tears slip while you look up at him. 

He takes a second to admire it before letting go. Watching you rush out.

You stand outside in the cold and catch your breath. Wiping your cheeks with hitched cries before a jacket is slumped over your shoulders.

“I don’t think I wanna roleplay this anymore, Toru- It’s too much-” You sniffle, curling yourself against his chest with tiny fists balled in his shirt.

“I know-” He coos, wrapping his arms around you while resting his chin off the top of your head, swaddling you. “But it makes me so fucking hard. Feel-” He groans, rubbing his fattened groin into your stomach.

“I’m not in the mood anymore-” You whine in return, trying to nudge him and his boner off.

But he keeps you in his arms, hugging you tight, a whine escaping his own lips. “No- please don’t. Don’t leave me all blue-balled, angel. Please~”

“You’re so selfish.” You pout, allowing it.

“Yeah~ I’m the worst~” He agrees with a snicker, releasing you – holding your hand as he begins leading you to the car, a hurried spring in his step. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You’re not even listening.” You argue, getting dragged along.

He places you against the door. “Please, I need you. I’ll beg if that’s what you want.” He moans hotly while kissing up your neck – fiddling for the keys in his pocket before unlocking and popping open the back seat. 

You don’t fight him, getting overwhelmed when he lays you down – his kisses never-ending and hunting for all those soft spots he knows make you weak. 

“Can’t believe people dare look at you-” He breathes, almost in a growl, lifting your thighs up around his torso while nestling between them. Rocking his bump against the thin lace of your panties. Voice growing more and more rowdy. “I oughta go back in and level ‘em all.”

He sucks a hickey into your neck, then a small ring of teeth on your collar. You whine at the bruising but don’t do anything to make him stop. Instead, your small hands reach out to his belt – unbuckling it and unbuttoning him, tugging his pants down until they bunch around where he’s knelt.

He makes the last liberties and finds his place between your thighs with a sigh.

“Buncha small-fries… everybody knows you’re mine.”

You sit in his lap when you’re done. Naked with your dress bunched around your midriff. Nips stiff and perky – too cute to ignore, so every now and again, he bows his head to give them a kiss or two. It never fails to make you squeal.

“You think you can fit into your old school uniform?” He mouths against you, licking kisses from your chest up to your neck – sucking your cheek before placing a chaste peck on the corner of your mouth. “I wanna poor milk on yah like I used to~

He’s always so clingy after cumming. You try and wrench away from the neediness, but it’s obvious you don’t give it much effort – mostly just scrunching your face. “You’re such a jerk.”

He hums in agreeance, and you feel his smirk through his kisses and then in his laugh. “Don’t cry, it’s not the type of milk you’re thinking of.”

You blush at the comment, ushering out a curt “Pervert.”

But he only pushes, moaning out a “Please~” while kneading your hip and rubbing your thigh – pressing his face into your neck, nuzzling you with eyes closed and mouth open.

So clingy, you feel embarrassed and ticklish under all the attention. Shaking your head. “It won't fit- it’s years ago-”

He pouts with a grumble. But it doesn’t take long before the smirk returns, inching back onto his lips. “I bet you’d fit in mine, though~”

You grow even more shy at the suggestion. “You’re so weird.”

He only laughs. “And you’re so in love with me~ which means you’re even weirder. Hah, loser?”

You frown at the nickname, again making an effort to twist away from the myriad of kisses and lovebites. “You’re insane.”

But he catches your face in his hand. Squishing your cheeks and turning your head to look back at him. “Damn right, I am.” He agrees, then turns it into a playful threat. “So you’d better never leave me. ‘You think I was a bully in school? Just imagine what a nightmare I’d be now. I’m a god; I’d get away with anything.”

You giggle at his silly dramatics. 

“You laugh, but I’m not joking.” He continues, still with your face in his hands. His big round eyes peeled. “I wouldn’t just stalk and terrorize you. I’d destroy your life if you ever left me. I’d make you lose your job, your apartment, your friends, your clan- I’d make sure you had no one left to turn to, nowhere left to run but right back to me.”

Your giggles die down, leaving a small smile playing on your lips before you press them softly against his. 

“And here I was thinking you’d just settle for sending creepy letters…”

He chuckles under his breath, “Childsplay.” Then kisses you again – this time a little longer. Giving your cheeks a squeeze before releasing you softly. Resting his forehead against yours with your noses touching.

His voice is a little more solemn now, genuinely serious this time. 

“But you would never leave me, right?”

The wet traces of his kisses cool in the absence of his lips while his thumbs feather your flesh so delicately. Holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the entire world.

You tilt your head and kiss him again – chastely and sweet.

“Never.”

[luveline]

oh I think about kbd daily

—Steve has a small surprise for you after dinner. mom!reader, 3k

“What’s wrong with Dove?” you ask. 

Dove lays on the floor. Avery sits beside her, rubbing back with eyes trained on the TV. “Daddy told her no. She wanted to climb on the counter in the kitchen. Then she bit him.” 

You sigh. It’s not the best scene to come home too, but you can make it work. “I got the cherry pops,” you tell her. 

Avery grins. “Awesome.” 

You cross the room and squat in front of them. Avery accepts a kiss on the forehead, but Dove whimpers when you touch her. “Are you sulking, Dovie?” you ask. 

She makes an annoyed sound. 

“You’ve been biting poor daddy?” you ask her. 

“No.” 

“Are you lying to me?”

She cries. You smile ruefully. “I’m just asking if you bit him, baby.” 

“I didn’t.” 

You don’t believe her, but sometimes, sometimes, it’s better to agree with a sulking child rather than tell them off. You don’t want to make a spoiled kid, but you don’t want to make the whole thing into a big scene when Avery’s just trying to watch TV. You’re sure Steve gave Dove his own warning when the bite happened initially. 

You rub her back. 

“How are you, Avery?” you ask softly, looking at your eldest with a fondness yet to waver. Long years of loving her have passed in the blink of an eye.

“I’m okay, mom.”

“Did you have a good day?” 

“It was good! Daddy put those rolled up sandwiches in my lunch and everybody was jealous. And we made paintings, but mine was still wet at home time.” 

You give her a proud kiss. “Good, baby, that’s good. Where’s Bethie, do you know?” 

“In the kitchen.” 

Dove whines. 

You slip a hand under her soft belly and turn her onto her back. She glares at you through pink eyes, clearly tired and not coping with it very well. “It’s okay, honey. I missed you, I wanted to see your beautiful face. Can I make you a buppy?” 

Dove likes the sounds of it, finally sitting up where she’s been lounging on the floor. 

You give Avery another proud kiss. “Thank you for rubbing her back,” you say. 

Avery grins, her hands reaching for you before you can stand for a quick hug. You pat her skinny shoulder, wondering to yourself if she needs to be eating more snacks. “I missed you, too, mom.” 

“Oh, I missed you,” you tell her. She’d never understand just how much. “Do you need anything from the kitchen, mm? Maybe a yoghurt or something?” 

“Dad says dinner is nearly ready.” 

“But do you want yoghurt?” 

She nods her head. 

Pleased with your first assessment of the evening, you dump your keys and handbag and remember to take your shoes off, shoving them half-heartedly near the door. They send a foam soccer ball tumbling toward the corner of the room. 

You drag yourself to the kitchen and press open the ajar door. Steve is not where you’d assumed, but Beth is there at the kitchen table with her unicorn stuffie, it’s purple fur shiny but scruffy under her hand. She’s talking to him, and seems shyly caught when she sees you. 

“Hi, baby. Hi, Snuffles.” 

Beth smiles. “He says hi.” 

You open the cabinet by the fridge and pull out a clean bottle. It isn’t sterilised but it doesn’t need to be for Dove. She isn’t drinking formula, either, just cow’s milk straight from the jug. You grab a yoghurt for Avery while the fridge is open, then remember the box of cherry ice pops in your handbag and double back for them before they can melt. As soon as they’re in, you go back to the fridge for the yoghurts. 

“Beth, you want a yoghurt?” you ask. 

“Dad says dinner’s nearly ready.” 

“I know, but they’re only small. Peach?” you offer. 

Beth reaches for one. You give her a yoghurt and a little spoon, pressing your nose into her hair for a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back to ask about your day, okay?” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“And Snuffles’, too!” 

Beth giggles as you leave. You give Avery her own yoghurt and a spoon, and you give Dove her bottle. She shoves it in without looking and from that moment on her eyes are locked onto the screen. 

There. Complicated, but done. 

You press a hand to your head and think after your husband. He isn’t usually quiet or unseen. Most days you get home to him in the kitchen trying to make dinner, or sitting on the couch with one or three kids in his lap. There are no signs of him, besides his jacket on the hanger by the door. He’s still in the building, you think to yourself with a laugh. 

You turn out of the living room and find him rushing down the stairs. 

“Hey!” he says, scraping wet hair back from his face, his arms already open for you as he reaches the bottom step. 

“Hey!” you say back, smiling, not expecting his arms as they wrap around you. Nice arms. Nice husband. Smells like himself, almost a decade of familiarity in the way he covers your back with his arms. “You’re in a good mood for a chew toy.” 

“Fucking–” Steve laughs and squeezes your waist. “Yeah, I’m in a good mood, my girl’s home.” He gives your head a kiss and peels away, offering his arm out, evidence of little teeth in fat of his forearm. 

“How’d you handle that?” 

“Well, I shrieked like a kid and I did raise my voice, you know, like a super jerk, but she did try to bite through my skin.” 

One of the teeth marks is a puncture, and the rest of the bite will be a purple bruise by tomorrow. 

“I think that’s alright,” you say, touching his bruise, then his chin with the back of your hand. You stroke to his cheek. 

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says. 

“No.” 

“You are. This is sad. This is a level of obsession you should be ashamed of.” 

“No way.” 

“It’s sad,” he whispers, angling his head down to yours. 

You must’ve done something right today, the way he kisses you. Must look cute, or must’ve said the right thing, touched him the right way, his kissing long and gentle and loving, warming, tipping into steadiness as your lips part under his. Honestly, it’s a little shocking how deeply he kisses you, like a window into one of your more tender moments, right there in the middle of the hall. 

When he pulls away, you take his hand. “Are you okay?” you ask. 

“Fine. Just missed you.” 

“Huh…” You press his hand to your stomach. “Long day?” 

“No, it’s been okay, really. Apart from Dove turning cannibal, I have no complaints. Avery’s Avery, and Beth’s Beth.” 

Which is to say, Avery’s a sweetheart and Beth her quiet companion. The girls are actually, somehow, well-behaved, and you don’t have a clue how it happened because Steve aggravates and you think every problem can be solved with a cuddle. Dove seems more accurate to what you’d expected from one of Steve’s children, honestly, which isn’t to say she isn’t lovely or sweet or beautiful, you expected all of that too, but wow, can she get wound up. 

His good mood is too good, though. Yes, your kids are nice, yes, you have a lot to be happy for, but he’s practically beaming as he slips his hand behind your back and guides you to the living room. 

Dove sees her father and goes limp with guilt. She pulls the bottle from her mouth and pouts at him, her eyes silver at the waterline. “Daddy, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “Are you mad?”

He rubs your back. “You know I’m not mad, it just hurts when somebody bites you, it surprised me. It really hurt, honey.” 

“I’m sorry.”  

“I know,” he says, “wanna kiss it better for me?” 

Dove abandons her bottle on the couch and struggles down to the floor. Even that turns his heart, you can tell, so it doesn’t surprise you when he takes her up into his arms the moment she’s close enough and kisses her cheek. “Me first,” he says. 

“Sorry I bit you,” she mumbles. 

“Daddy’s not mad,” he mumbles back, “it just hurt, that’s the thing. I don’t like being bitten.” 

“I won’t do it again,” she says clumsily. 

“Good! Thank you,” he says, grinning at you as she kisses his cheek, like, look at how freaking adorable she is. “Mom made your buppy? Are you gonna have dinner, honey, or should we sit down for a nap?” 

Steve ends up sequestered with Dove for a nap in the corner of the couch. He looks good, arguably at his finest with Dove tucked under his chin and his hand spread out across her back. She dozes and sniffles. He smiles against her hair. 

You spy on them from the kitchen doorway, sipping a cold glass of water. Dinner’s done, cooling on the counter on sheet trays. Steve’s made the usual, a big tray of buttered, roasted veggies and pot pie. There are pork chops for Beth and a few extra in case anyone wants their own, and there’s a bowl of peas because Dove loves them. He’s such a good guy, you think. You each have jobs to do, he has to make dinner, you have to wash the dishes after, but it doesn’t make it feel less true. He makes coming home the best part of every weekday. 

Another ten minutes and he’s kicked the big bean bag into shape, laying Dove down for a nap there. He spreads her pink baby blanket over her and fawns when it fails to cover her feet. 

“She’s getting so big,” he says, scratching his hand through his hair as he makes his way to you. 

“And so vocal,” you say. 

“I noticed that too, she’s saying more words at one time.” He puts a hand on your waist for no reason at all. 

“Maybe ‘cos Ave was home.” 

“You remember that day she woke up and all her pants didn’t fit anymore?” he asks. “It’s like that.” 

She would have only been four. Beth was still a baby. You’d made your way into Avery’s room as Steve gave a grizzly Beth her bottle, and, upon getting her dressed, discovered all of her pants were now too short. Her legs must’ve grown overnight. She hadn’t felt a thing. 

Beth gets growing pains something awful, but Avery keeps on shooting up without complaint. You’re sure she’ll be taller than Steve by the time she’s in high school. How beautiful she’ll be then. 

“What?” Steve asks you. 

“Nothing, just thinking. Time moves fast.” 

“If you don’t stop and look around–”

“Thanks, Ferris.” 

Steve moves you into the kitchen, tipping your head aside to kiss the line of your neck, and then splitting for the cabinet where you keep the plates. “You’re welcome.” 

You plate dinner. The oldest girls wander in and sit in their seats. Steve fills a carafe with lemonade and laughs when Avery makes a face, her first sip sour, cold, and carbonated. “It’s fizzing,” she says. 

“It’s soda,” Steve says. 

“You should warn me, dad!” 

“Is that okay?” you ask Beth, having cut up her two pork chops into small pieces. “Yeah? Do you want some more broccoli?” 

“Mommy, no one wants more broccoli.” 

“Don’t be like that, you know daddy makes the best broccoli, it’s got honey and salt and pepper–”

“And garlic butter,” Steve says. 

You sit in the chair beside Beth’s and drag your plate in front of you. “I’m gonna have more.” 

“Okay, I will have more too,” she says. 

“Want some green beans?” you ask. 

“Um, no. Just broccoli.”

Avery stabs at her green beans enthusiastically. She eats every bit of food on her plate no matter the colour, and she asks Steve for seconds, which he plates up for her immediately, despite being mid-mouthful. Under the table, he pushes his ankle against yours. It’s a quiet, normal dinner. Even Snuffles gets a bite of pork. 

“That alright?” Steve asks you. 

“Amazing, honey, like usual. Really good, I don’t know how you make vegetables taste unhealthy.” 

“All the butter,” he says, rubbing his ankle against yours. 

“Are you done?” you ask. 

He pushes the serving plate of veggies toward you. “Go ahead, beautiful.” 

You take what’s left of the veggies. Avery gets another slice of pot pie. Beth finishes all of her pork and a few of the potatoes. The broccoli, despite her wanting more, go mostly untouched. All in all, everyone’s fed. 

“You did make a plate for Dove,” you ask suddenly, worried you’ve been greedy. 

“Yeah, I did, don’t worry. I made her enough peas to feed her three times over. And I can make more, if you want more.” 

You try not to flush. It’s not like Steve’s unaware of your appetite, and he doesn’t expect you to survive off of salad and saltines, but you’re still embarrassed enough to shake your head vehemently. “Yikes.” 

“Stop, you’re fine.” He takes a square of roasted potato off of your plate, wipes his hands in a napkin, and squeezes you by the shoulders. “Just gonna check Dove.” 

Beth scrambles off of her seat at the first opening. “I’m done.” 

“Can I make you a PB–”

“No!” She grins at you. “No thanks, I’m full.”

“You gotta have oatmeal later, then.” 

She nods like this is fine. “Yes, thank you.” She leaves for the living room. You hear her shy, “Thanks for dinner, daddy,” and Steve’s adoring, “You’re so welcome, thank you for eating it. Come here, let me give you a kiss.” Giggling and the sound of smacking pecks follows. 

Avery sits up. “Can I have another drink?” 

You cram the last of the broccoli into your mouth and stand. You pour her lemonade and start stacking the plates to carry them over to the sink. 

“No, I’ll help!” Avery says. 

“Baby, it’s okay. Drink your drink and have five minutes. You don’t wanna get sick.” 

“You haven’t had five minutes.” 

You laugh. “My body’s bigger than yours, so it only needs the one. It’s really okay, just finish your dinner and you can help me dry the knives and forks. I’ll save them for last.” 

Steve returns. “Girls,” he says, tucking the chairs under the table, “I didn’t expect you guys to be so hungry, I forgot about the secret.” 

You scrape what’s left on your plate into the trash. “What secret?” 

He beams again. 

“I knew there was something up,” you say, dumping your plate in the sink. 

“I made something else.” 

You lift your head in a rush. You know exactly what he’s gonna say before you ask. “You made–”

“Your favourite,” he says cockily, crossing his arms over his chest. “No biggie. Ave, you got room for dessert, babe?” 

“I think so. You might have to do that thing to my tummy.” 

Steve is a professional at post dinner tummy rubs. What is it about kids and their tummy aches?

After everything —Avery finishing her dinner, washing the dishes, drying and putting them away, turning on the heat for the night, gathering a load of laundry for the machine— Steve sits down in the armchair, and you sit in his lap. A bowl of dessert with two spoons on your chest. 

“If I’m too heavy,” you say. 

“You’re never too heavy, I hate when you say that shit.” 

“You always try to get me in your lap, that’s why.” 

“This is where you’re supposed to be.” He cuts into the ice cream with his spoon. “You’re not heavy. If you ever get too heavy for me, I’ll just get bigger.”

“I’d like to get smaller eventually.” 

“Stop it. You’re perfect.” 

You let your face rest above his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, shut up.” 

“I’m never shutting up.” He offers you his spoon. The point of two was to make it so he didn’t do this, but he does it anyway, wiping the corner of your mouth when you pull back. “Messy.” 

“I can’t believe you made this.”

“I knew it’d make you happy.” 

You turn his face and kiss his cheek softly. A lingering kiss, trying to press affection into his every pore. “I love you.” 

“I know.” He shifts your weight, as though hoping to pull you closer despite a lack of space. This close you can see the freckles under his eyes and across his nose, just a couple, light brown and sparse. His eyes are relaxed, his eyelashes long in the corners and tangling with the ones at the bottom. What use does he have for such nice eyes?

“What are we gonna do with the rest of the evening? You’ve already showered,” you say, gaze back to your dessert. 

“I gotta give the bathroom a clean, and then nothing.” He puts his hand to your face, the very side of his palm against your cheek, framing you. He turns his hand completely and rubs your chin with his thumb. “I think I had one of those days where I really missed you.” 

“Like I’d been gone longer than I was.”

“Exactly.”

You hum with the pleasure of being liked so much and close your eyes. Predictable, Steve leans down to kiss you. It’s all he seems to do lately, a hundred kisses a day. 

“Okay, help me eat this so we can snuggle,” he says. 

“I’m not snuggling with you.” 

“Cuddle?” 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“A hug where we’re both laying down?” he suggests. 

“That’s far more reasonable.” 

He laughs, picking up his spoon again. Your face is cold without his touch, the other hand slipping down to your hip. 

When the dessert is done, he sets the bowl aside and pulls you against his, majority of your back to his chest, his face a heat at the side of your own. He crosses his arms over your stomach and holds it. 

“I wouldn’t mind doing this forever,” he says. 

“But who will look after our poor children?” you ask, letting your eyes slip closed in bliss. 

“If we have a couple more they can look after each other.” 

You like the sounds of that. The first part, not so much the second. “Just a couple,” you say. 

—

kbd au

[loveinhawkins]

It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.

He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.

So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.

“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.

Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”

He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.

Eddie screams.

Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.

He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.

Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”

And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.

And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.

“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”

“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”

“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”

And…

Well. That’s a development.

“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”

And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”

Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.

Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”

Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”

“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”

“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.

“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”

Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.

Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.

Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”

And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.

Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.

“Your lips are blue.”

“I’m f-fine.”

A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.

“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.

He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.

But instead—

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.

Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.

“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.

Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”

“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”

Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.

“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.

There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…

Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.

At least, he would if he could stand up.

When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”

His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.

“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.

“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.

“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.

“Is—is Eddie—?”

“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.

And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.

For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.

But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.

He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.

[0omillo0]

FELIX X READER ;༊๋࣭ fluff ; comfort

request from @jeonginsleftcheek (love your works btw tysm for the request ♡ )

a/n: HI GUYS IVE GOT MY TICKETS FOR THE DOMINATE TOUR IM SO EXCITED!!

It had been one of those days—the kind where the weight of everything felt unbearable, like the world had conspired against you. From the moment you woke up, nothing had gone right. Work was overwhelming, people were impatient, and even the smallest things seemed to fall apart in your hands. By the time you finally walked through the door to your apartment, the tears you had fought so hard to keep at bay spilled freely, slipping down your cheeks in silent streams.

You leaned heavily against the door, closing your eyes as the exhaustion overtook you. The quiet of your home was supposed to feel like relief, but tonight it only felt heavy, empty.

“Y/N?”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the sound of Felix’s familiar voice. You hadn’t even noticed him sitting on your couch, his long legs tucked under a throw blanket, a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him. His soft brown eyes widened when he saw your face, his expression shifting from surprise to deep concern in an instant. He stood quickly, taking a tentative step toward you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” His voice was gentle but full of worry, the kind of tone that made you want to crumble entirely.

You quickly wiped at your tears, trying to pull yourself together. “Lix… Hey. I didn’t know you were here.” You tried to force a smile, but it wavered. “It’s nothing, really. I just… had a bad day.”

Felix’s brows knit together as he studied your face. “Nothing doesn’t make you cry like this.” He took another step closer, careful not to overwhelm you. “Come here,” he murmured softly, opening his arms.

You hesitated for only a second before collapsing into his embrace. Felix wrapped you up tightly, his arms firm and protective as he pulled you against his chest. His sweater smelled faintly of vanilla and something warm and earthy, and the familiarity of it made your tears flow harder. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against the soft fabric as he held you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging in your heart. “I’m here. Let it out.”

And you did. You cried until your shoulders stopped shaking, until the ache in your chest started to feel a little less overwhelming. Felix didn’t let go, not once, his hands rubbing slow, calming circles on your back as he murmured quiet reassurances.

Eventually, when the tears had slowed to a stop, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, wiping away the last traces of wetness. “Come sit down with me,” he said gently, guiding you to the couch.

He settled you beside him, tucking the blanket over your lap before draping his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close. You leaned into him, letting your head rest against his chest as his fingers absently played with the ends of your hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly after a moment.

You sighed, unsure where to even begin. “It was just… everything. Work was stressful, and people were rude, and I just felt… I don’t know. Like nothing I did today was good enough.”

Felix’s arm tightened around you slightly, a protective gesture. “Y/N… I hate that you had to deal with all that today. None of it’s fair. You’re so amazing—whether it’s at work or just… being you. And if other people can’t see that, that’s on them, not you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, a fresh wave of emotion rising in your chest. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his presence soothe you.

“Thank you, Lix,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Always,” he replied without hesitation, his tone so sincere it made your heart ache. “I’ll always be here for you.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the only sounds the soft hum of Felix’s breathing and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. His hand moved to gently rub your arm, his touch feather-light but grounding. You felt yourself starting to relax for the first time all day, the tension slowly melting from your body as you sat wrapped in his warmth.

“You know,” Felix said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him. “What is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away from yours as if he were gathering his courage. When he looked back, his expression was soft, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your breath catch.

“Y/N… I don’t think I can keep this to myself anymore.” His voice was quieter now, almost nervous. “I care about you. A lot. More than just… as a friend.”

Your heart stopped, the words hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you had heard him correctly. “What?” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Felix gave you a small, almost shy smile, his cheeks tinged pink. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a while now, but I didn’t want to risk ruining what we have. But seeing you like this tonight… I realized I can’t keep it in anymore. You mean so much to me, and I just… I wanted you to know.”

You stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. And then, slowly, warmth bloomed in your chest, chasing away the heaviness that had lingered there all day. “Felix… I—” You paused, your lips curving into a soft smile. “I love you too.”

His eyes widened in surprise, his mouth opening slightly as if he hadn’t dared to hope you would say those words back. And then, his face broke into the most beautiful smile you had ever seen, his expression radiant with relief and happiness.

“Really?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Really,” you confirmed, reaching up to gently cup his face. “How could I not? You’re… everything to me.”

Felix let out a breathy laugh, his hand coming up to cover yours where it rested on his cheek. “You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the world felt still—just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth. His thumb brushed over your cheek again, his touch as tender as ever.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N,” he murmured. “On your bad days, your good days, and everything in between. I promise.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink into your heart. For the first time that day, you felt truly at peace, safe in the arms of someone who loved you completely.

tags: @hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[faux-ecrivain]

Yandere Darling

Yandere Darling x gn reader

(Eighteenth Official Post)

(This isn’t my best)

(Yan’s name is Amos)

Yan Darling that used to be kidnapped, that thought he would never escape.

Yan Darling who fought everyday to keep his Kidnapper from hiring him (regardless of how much they claimed they loved him).

Yan Darling that almost gives in after months and months of torture and mind breaking, who almost believes the Kidnapper when they say no one’s coming for him. (“Give up Amos, sweetheart, no one’s looking for you, no one wants you.”)

Yan Darling who cries tears of joy (and anguish) when you rescue him (completely by accident, you just wanted to rob the place).

Yan Darling who panics when you leave his side to talk to the police officer, he’s afraid that’ll he’ll get hurt again if you aren’t with him. 

He tugs on the back of your shirt, your turn your head to look at him and are met, briefly, with teary eyes, and pouty lips. “Please don’t go, I’m scared..” He mumbled, his eyes cast to the ground  and his hand clutching your shirt like a life line. You can’t help but feel the urge to protect him, to watch over him and it’s only because he reminds you of your little brother. “Alright, I’ll stay, but I’ll have to talk to the policemen eventually.”

Yan Darling who’s eyes light up when you tell him you’ll go with him, his heart pounds when you ride in the ambulance with him and then when you sit beside his bed he can’t help but cry again.

Yan Darling who cries even more when you try to sooth his cries, he apologizes over and over again. He feels so terrible crying in front of you like that, he shouldn’t do that, but he can’t help himself.

Yan Darling who starts giggling when you begin to panic over him, he giggles even more when your face contorts into confusion and you don’t know how to help him.

You were fussing over a crying Amos when he started to giggle, you didn’t know what was so funny and asking him didn’t help. He just kept giggling, then when your face shifted into confusion he began to full on laugh. (It was kind of creepy) He only stops when he starts coughing and his throat feels sore, it’s been a while since he laughed like that. Amos smiles when you hand him a glass of water, you’re so kind to him.

Yan Darling who pouts when you have to leave, no he doesn’t care if visiting hours are up, he just wants to spend time with you.

Yan Darling who makes you swear to come back tomorrow, or he’ll never talk to you again, and feels delighted when you agree.

Yan Darling who can’t wait for you to come back and when you do return, he greets you with open arms. 

Yan Darling who chats with for hours and hours, occasionally bursting into tears if you show him an inkling of kindness. Each moment spent with you is a moment he cherishes.

Yan Darling who looks forward to you visits and even dreams about visiting you.

Yan Darling who was upset when you didn’t come in on your usual days, then he got even more upset when his family visited instead of you. He doesn’t like his family, but they don’t seem to care.

Yan Darling who gives you the cold shoulder when you do eventually come visit, regardless of the reason you give him (or the apology).

“Amos, I’m really sorry, I just got caught up in work and by the time I got off visiting hours were over. (Actually you were in jail and just got bailed out)” You apologize again, trying to get his attention and you even go as far as to place your hand near his own hand. He takes notice of this and can feel his resolve crumbling, he really wants to hold your hand. “Hmph, liar, I bet you were just avoiding me!” 

He grumbles, his lips pulled into a cute pour and his eyes narrowed in a heated glares. “No, I wasn’t avoiding you. I could never avoid you, I care about you too much.” You smile softly and his resolve wavers, he gives into your kindness, and cautiously grabs hold of your hand. “Hm, fine, i guess I’ll forgive you, but don’t do it again!”

Yan Darling who is so excited when he’s finally released, now he can go over to your house and spend more time with you!

Yan Darling whose mood quickly drops when he’s released to his family and not you. He didn’t want to be with them, he wanted to be with you..

Yan Darling who gives his family the cold shoulder, no matter how much they try to care for him (he knows it’s all an act).

Yan Darling who begins to lash out when his family forbids him from visiting you. (“I’m not a child, mum! I can make my own decision and see my own people!”)

Yan Darling who runs away from his family and wonders around until he comes across you. Actually, you had saved him once more when he had been cornered by a group of thugs and almost beaten up. 

Yan Darling whose heart races when he sees you defending him, protecting him and his mind runs back to when you first rescued him. You care about him so much, you must love him.

Yan Darling who readily nods when you make a joke of being his bodyguards and following him 24/7. He gets so confused when you become concerned for him, did he say something wrong (yes, he said you should stalk him).

Yan Darling who begins to cry when you ask him why he’s out so late and so far from home, he reluctantly informs you of his troubles and is overjoyed when you invite him over.

Yan Darling who finds your house fascinating, it’s so lived in and it’s so.. you!

Yan Darling who eagerly listens to the tales you regale him with tales of your exploits and stories about your childhood. 

Yan Darling who gets upset when you compare him to your younger brother, he doesn’t want to be your brother! He wants to be your lover. 

He pouts and glares at you, he doesn’t want to be your brother. “I’m not your brother! I’m not related to you at all!” He gets so confused when you giggle at his response, he’s being very serious right now. Don’t laugh at him!

Yan Darling who pouts and tells you to take him seriously, he’s a person too! 

Yan Darling who becomes relieved once you reassure him that you do indeed view him as a person (and essentially a man).

Yan Darling who whines when you tell him it’s bed time, but relents once you promise to tuck him in and kiss him good night.

Yan Darling who gets all flustered when you do actually tuck him in and kiss him good night. Ah, you must really love him!

Yan Darling whose face is all red when you kiss him, he’s never felt this way before..

Yan Darling who struggles to fall asleep and can’t help but think about you, think about a future with you.

Yan Darling who gets angry when he thinks about the prospect of you leaving him or finding another to dote on. His little heart couldn’t handle having you leave him and it definitely couldn’t handle you loving another!

Yan Darling who catches himself before his mind wanders into dangerous territory, he shouldn’t feel this way, especially not after what he’s gone through. He doesn’t want to hurt you like he was hurt, he wants to love you.

Yan Darling who apologizes when he sees you in the morning, which of course confuses you. Why is he apologizing?

Tears stream down his face as he confesses his thoughts and begs for your forgiveness, meanwhile you’re still trying to process that weird dream you had last night and this situation doesn’t help. You put down you mug and try to reassure him, surely whatever he’s feeling is normal, and he shouldn’t feel so guilty over such thoughts. After all, he seems to have no intentions to make his dreams come true.

Yan Darling who feels so much better after you accept his apology, that’s so kind of you and after he’s caused you so much trouble. Oh, he just wants to hug!

You’re surprised when Amos entraps you in a hug, you didn’t expect this to happen. You awkwardly pat his back and then wait for him to quit hugging you. He’s seemingly oblivious to how uncomfortable his unexpected hug makes you, he seems to take your reluctance to respond as you being shy. He smiles and hugs you tighter.

Yan Darling who whines when you manage to escape his hold, he just wanted to share his love with you.

Yan Darling who almost throws a temper tantrum when you prevent him from hugging you again.

Yan Darling who’s only placated when you  offer him some warm food, although he’s sure to kick up a fuss if you don’t cuddle him later this afternoon.

Yan Darling who becomes overly clingy and affectionate throughout the passage of time, each moment around him is spent in his hold or with him hanging off your arm.

Yan Darling who’s scared you’ll leave him alone and does whatever it takes to keep you happy.

(you can probably tell, but I lost motivation halfway near the end, when I started this fanfic i was half asleep and had stayed up all night. So, it wasn’t the best and I apologize for that.)

(Also, you could expect another post later today, but don’t get your hopes up!)

[crybaby-bkg]

new dad Bakugou who’s going back to work full time almost a full year after his daughter his born and he now has to grapple with the fact that….goddamn, he’s spoiled the shit outta her.

well, he doesn’t think it was spoiling her. in actuality, he just created a routine with her, gave her every bit of his attention, held her when she cried, scolded her (yes just at eight months) whenever she’d babble for more puffs even though she’s had enough already. it wasn’t spoiling, it wasn’t. he vowed to never be that dad, to raise a snot nosed brat, one similar to himself.

but here he is, on a Tuesday morning three weeks after her first birthday. he’s standing halfway between the front door and the living room in full uniform, with his still sleepy baby and her even sleepier mama. she’s gripping his neck like he promised to abandon her, wailing and crying so loud and dramatically, that you can’t help but chuckle at her antics and how he wavers ever so slightly.

“You promised you’d go back to work,” you scold him gently, rubbing at your daughters quivering back when she whines again the moment he acts like he’s gonna pull her off. Bakugou frowns at you, and you shrug, smoothing her unruly blond curls away from her sticky forehead.

“But you guys need me.” He pouts, eyebrows downturned as he pulls her away enough to wipe at her wet face. she blubbers again, whimpering out a small dadaaaa noooo, that absolutely breaks his heart.

“And so does the world.” You smile at him, gently pulling your daughter away from the matching glassy red eyes who watch her go. “We’ll be fine, my love. Promise.”

Bakugou looks unconvinced, especially since your daughter reaches for him with another cry of his name. you don’t say anything when he sniffles discreetly, quickly reaching down to the coffee table to snatch up his utility belt that he dropped when she waddled out of her room in tears. he snaps it on wordlessly, and you go to turn to the kitchen when he wraps you both up in his arms.

“Love you,” he whispers against your forehead before pecking it, leaning down to kiss your lips next, and then your daughter’s fat little cheeks. He whispers another love you to her, and wipes away at her rosy cheeks when she pouts at him.

“Rub you.” your daughter pouts, the both of you freezing in shock.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, grinning. “She said I love you back!” Bakugou matches your grin, laughing under his breath as he presses another torrent of kisses all of her face. for the first time since she’s opened her eyes today, she laughs, loud and joyous and familiar. he thinks that maybe going back in today won’t be so bad after all. not if this is what he’ll be coming home to.

[mrtelevisionlover]

Can you do an angst Harry fic where he is in an established relationship but he is so busy with sidemen etc and she doesn’t feel like a priority or like the relationship is important for him and they have an argument maybe and she’s ready to leave and he has to fight for her to stay?

Hello, tysm for requesting! Low-key got a bit emotional writing this 😬

it's very angssty(?), hope you like it!

Stay

Today was Y/n and Harry’s five year anniversary. She had planned a lovely dinner at their favourite restaurant, then they would go for a walk, and then they would come home and snuggle up on the sofa. It’s perfect…Or it would be perfect if Harry looked at her messages. 

Over the past few months, Harry has barely been home–constantly filming videos in different countries, on set, etc–and when he is home, he’s always on his phone, or in his office. It feels like he’s purposely ignoring her, barely acknowledging her presence in their own shared home. 

Sometimes, when she’s alone in bed, she thinks he’s out cheating on her. It brings her to tears, knowing Harry is out looking as attractive as he is, mingling with girls in bars or parties. Ones she's never invited to because ‘she wouldn’t like it.’. She would actually really like it, she hasn’t been invited out for so long and she just wants to see her friends.

“Can I come?...”

“Nah, it’s a lads thing.”

A couple hours later, when she’s sick of the silence, she goes on Instagram to see selfies of Faith and Talia, even Sabina and Tennessee. Everyone was there. 

“Ma’am? If you're not going to order, you need to leave.” Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted when the waitress comes over for the umpteenth time.

“He’s just coming, I promise-”

“You’ve been here over an hour, if you don’t order in the next fifteen minutes, you’ll need to give up your table.”

“O-okay…Sorry.” Y/n swallows nervously, showing her a small smile.

Y/n watches the waitress walks away, laughing to her coworker, probably about the loser that’s been sat on her own for over an hour. She pulls out her phone and checks if Harry’s replied. She can see he’s online but her messages have been left on delivered.

She decided to send him another text, hoping that he’ll see it.

Another 10 minutes pass, and she can see the waitress looking over. She sends Harry a few more messages, her eyes start to water and she can feel that familiar lump forming in her throat

Y/n is suddenly pulled from her phone. “Okay, you need to leave.” The waitress starts clearing her table, not taking no for an answer.

“No-He’s coming, He wouldn’t do that-” Y/n tries to grab the cutlery from her hands as her voice wavers.

“He’s not coming, go home.” The waitress sighs.

She shakes her head, “He is-He is, he wouldn’t forget me. He loves me-It’s our fifth Anniversary, I-I think he might propose-” She cries.

She shoves her hands away. “Get out.”

“Please-” Y/n pleads, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Go!”

Y/n wipes her nose, looking around her favourite restaurant to see everyone staring at her. Her face flushes and she looks down. She quickly grabs her bag and phone, running out the door muttering sorrys as she goes. 

When she finally arrives at their shared apartment, she can hear the television blasting through the walls. She then opens the door to see Harry, drunk, lying on the sofa. He doesn’t even acknowledge her. 

She chokes out a sob, “I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what?” Harry looks up from the TV. seeing her teary face sobers him up, slightly.

“Us! You-you don’t talk to me, or prioritize me. You don’t love me!” Y/n waves her hands about in frustration.

His eyebrows furrow. “That’s not true, of course I love y-”

“Then why don’t you say it!?”

“I don’t know, I forget!” Harry shrugs.

“You forget? You forget to tell your girlfriend you love her?”

“I have so much Important stuff going on right now-”

“And I’m not? Today was our fifth anniversary for goodness sake!” She presses her palms deep into her eyes.

He pauses, “...Was it?...”

“Yes!!” She cries. “I waited in that restaurant for an hour and a half, I made a fool of myself!”

“Sorry…”

“That’s all you’ve got? ‘Sorry’? Why don’t you answer my messages? Are they annoying?”

“Yes! Wait, no-”

“You’re mean…” She mutters.

“What?”

“I love you so much but you keep treating me like I’m some gum on your shoe. I can’t keep living like this-” Y/n rushes into the bedroom, grabbing the nearest bag she could find and starts throwing clothes into it.

“Where are you going!?” Harry rushes in front of her, holding her shoulders.

“Away.”

“You’re leaving?”

Y/n grins sarcastically. “Yes. We’re done. You’re free.”

“No don’t say that-I love you.”

“No you do-”

“I do, I do. I love you so much…The reason I was distant was because I was scared. I was scared of the commitment. Everyone is telling me to settle down a-and I freaked out because I do want to settle down…With you! But, I just wasn’t sure if I was ready” He takes a breath.”I was planning to propose, but I got scared, and I ghosted you…but, I’m not scared anymore. I love you so much and…” He gets on one knee, “Will you marry me?...”

“No!” She cries. “You can’t pretend you didn’t do what you did, you can’t just forget it-You-you-you just, you’re mean!”

Harry holds both her shoulders, trying to pull her into a hug “Hey-hey-!"

“No! I can’t do this right now-” Y/n pushes him away and reaches for her keys. She quickly opens the door, fleeing into the night, slamming the door in his face…

ignore any mistakes, its midnight!! 😅

[imtryingbuck]

Divorce Came With A Price

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: it’s been 6 months since he last saw you.

Word count: 1295

Warnings: Angst, I’m sorry. Death, cancer, suicide – please don’t read if the warnings upset you.

A/N: my mum cried when she read this.

Masterlist

Part 1

It’s been 6 months since Bucky last saw you, he’s hated it. He misses you. He misses your beautiful face, the way your smile makes his heart tingle. Misses the way your eyes shines brightly when you’re talking about your hobbies and interests. Misses the feel of your soft skin under his calloused hands. He just misses the love of his life, his other half - his sweet perfect wife. 

He remembers how your smile dropped as he tells you he wanted a divorce. Remembers the heartbreakingly look in your eyes as he told he’d been having an affair. That one look has haunted his dreams, his every waking moment. He can still feel the acid in his throat as he wills himself to nod as you ask that one question. Nothing more nothing less. You just wanted that one question to be answered and he couldn’t even look at you let alone answer verbally. He didn’t even know you left the house until the divorce hearing; he watched you walk away with Matt and Foggy wishing he could say something but nothing comes out. He watched as your feet falter when you see Carly. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

But It’s over now.

It’s over now and he can get you back.

It’s over now and he’s hoping and praying that you’ll understand and forgive him.

It’s over now and he’s going to move heaven and earth to have his love back in his arms.

He finds out you’ve been staying with Matt since he broke both of your hearts. How does he do this? How does he knock on the door hoping that neither one of you punches him in the face (not that he doesn’t deserve it) he just hopes you’ll listen to him.

Bucky walks into the florist to get the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers he can get. 

The skies start to turn dark even with the sun shining brightly, if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was forewarning for what’s to come.

Knocking on the wooden door it’s Matt that greats him. “What? What are you doing here” if Bucky wasn’t a super soldier he’d be scared with the tone in Matts voice.

“I-um I need to see Y-Y/N. Please”

“She’s not here. She’s not here anymore” Bucky can’t understand why Matt sounds broken.

“Well um where does she live now?” He’s trying not to stumble off his words.

“No James you don’t understand” Matt looks up towards the ceiling then continues but doesn’t get the chance.

“What do you mean I don’t understand? Matt look I know you hate me for what I did to Y/N but I had a reason, I just need to see her to explain it to her. Please Matt just tell me where she lives”. He begging and pleading and it’s clear as day in the way his voice wavers.

Matt speaks in a fast manner “Get inside before Ms Jenson comes out and complains” 

The apartments a mess, there’s takeaway boxes laying around, the sinks full of pots and there’s trash overflowing in the bin. The apartment looks nothing like it did 8 months prior when Y/N and himself went round for a double date with Matt and some woman he can’t remember the name of. Matt sits down and lazily waves his arm round for Bucky to sit to.

“Matt wher-“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“James she’s gone, she’s dead.” The air is cut off. The room is spinning. His world has ended. He doesn’t know what to do or say so he stares blankly at Matt waiting for the punchline of a joke that isn’t even remotely funny. Matt understands he needs to say more so he does. “That day you told her you wanted a divorce to be with your side piece she’d been at the hospital for her results. It was cancer. Terminal. She’d been told she had about 6 months to a year left. Her insurance didn’t cover her medical expenses so she stopped treatment, I told her I would pay but you know what she’s like-was like. 3 weeks ago she made me go out on a date with Karen she said she’d be fine and made me promise I’d have a good time. I got home around 11 and went to bed. The next morning, I couldn’t hear her walking around, so I went into her room, she um she’d taken pills, enough to end her life. It was too late to do anything, they said she’d been gone for 18 hours. Id only been gone for an hour” tears stream down both of the men’s faces. Matt struggles to continues “she begged me not to say anything to you, she didn’t want to get in the way of your relationship. She thought if you knew you’d change your mind and not divorce her just because she was dying. Y/N begged me James so I couldn’t I couldn’t do that to her-“ Bucky cuts him off. 

“I didn’t have an affair. I swear. Hydra was after me again and I had to divorce Y/N so she wouldn’t get hurt. I told her I had an affair so she would divorce me, I knew cheating was a deal breaker so I lied. I fucking lied and she’s dead. I lied and she’s not even going to know the truth.” He tries so hard to continue but can’t his airway is closing up. He passes out.

10 years have been and gone, the pain of losing the only person he has ever loved didn’t stop not that he wants it to. Bucky wants to remember the pain. 

In the 10 years that have passed he’s visits your grave every Friday, wedding anniversary, the date you two got together, the date he proposed, your birthday and on Christmas. After the fifth year Steve told him he needed to move on, and well long story short they had a fight and Bucky cried saying he couldn’t move on. In the end everyone around him understood that he would never move on from the love of his life. He sits there no matter the weather and talks to you for hours. He told you Matt and Karen were having a baby girl, then told you they named her after you. Told you all about his cat Alpine. After every visit without fail or another thought he tells you he loves you and can’t wait to see you again.

It’s been 10 years 5 months 12 days since you passed away and Bucky’s on his way to see you.

He’s on a mission that’s gone horribly wrong he’s been shot too many times. He’s so tired and Steve’s trying to get him to stay awake but it’s no use.

“Stevie p-please stop. I w-wan-t to be w-ith my Y-Y/N I need to be with h-er” Even though Bucky gasps for breaths his voice is strong enough to let Steve and the team know that this is what he wants. Steve gives him a slow nod with tears sliding down his cheeks, he clasps hands with his best friend and keeps locked tight long after Bucky takes his last breath.

He leaves the world with a smile on his face.

You stand there waiting for him and as soon as you lock eyes with him you’re running. Jumping into his arms and before he can say anything you kiss him. Hard. After you separate you tell him you know the truth. You heard him every time he would visit your grave. You tell each other how much you love one another. You take his hand and lead him into your new life.

Tags: @learisa @bruher @pattiemac1 @kentokaze @almosttoopizza @yvessaintmuerte

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 19 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo’s hand trembled as he brought the bottle of Holy Water to his mother’s lips. He had faced countless enemies, stared down death itself, and yet this moment, this single act of hope, made his entire body shake. Doubts swirled in his mind. What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m too late?

The glass clinked softly against her lips, but his grip faltered, and his resolve wavered. That was when he felt it—warmth. A steadying hand on his back and another gently covering the one holding the bottle.

His dark eyes turned to meet yours, your steady gaze offering him a silent reassurance. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon both of you, but your quiet smile cut through the tension, a calming balm for his fraying nerves. You gave a small nod, glancing toward his mother.

Jinwoo swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. Emboldened by your presence, he tilted the bottle carefully, letting the liquid trickle past his mother’s lips. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you both watched her, hoping, praying for any sign that the Holy Water was working.

At first, there was nothing. Then, slowly, her pale complexion began to change, color returning to her cheeks. Her breathing, once shallow and faint, grew deeper and more even. Relief washed over Jinwoo, his shoulders sagging, but his mother still didn’t wake.

“Let’s wait,” you murmured gently, breaking the silence. You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, guiding him to sit in the chair beside the hospital bed. He sank into it, his body slumping forward, tension still lingering in his frame.

“I’ll go get us some water,” you said softly, stepping toward the door.

Before he could think, his hand shot out, gripping yours tightly. Memories surged to the forefront of his mind: the sight of you collapsing in the Demon Castle, your body unnaturally still. The trial player, the one he thought of as unshakable, had been brought to the brink. He remembered the helplessness that consumed him then, the way his hands hovered over you as if touching you might break what little thread of life remained.

Even when you stirred much later, vomiting and disoriented, the haunting image of you lying there refused to leave him. It was the first time he realized how wrong he’d been to think of you as stronger, untouchable. Seeing you then had cracked something inside him, a realization that your endurance came at a cost he’d never truly considered.

And now, the thought of you walking away—even for something as simple as water—ignited that same fear, buried deep in his chest.

“Please… stay,” he whispered.

His voice was small, barely audible, but the silence of the room made it impossible for you not to hear. Your heart ached as you turned back to him, his head bowed low, his hair obscuring his face. You gently patted his hand, offering quiet reassurance.

“I’m just getting some water, Jinwoo. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” you said.

He felt the faintest touch of warmth in your words, somewhere deep in his chest where the cold shadows couldn’t reach. His grip loosened reluctantly, and he let you go, though his head remained bowed. Even as you left the room, the imprint of your promise lingered, keeping his anxieties at bay.

---

The hospital halls were eerily quiet, the stillness of the night amplifying every sound. You leaned your back against the wall beside the open door to Jinwoo’s mother’s room, clutching the tray of glasses and water bottles.

From where you stood, you could hear the soft murmurs of conversation filtering through the door. Jinwoo’s voice was quiet, trembling with suppressed emotion. His mother’s voice, faint but warm, responded gently. You heard the rustle of movement, the sound of their hands clasping.

Then came the sound you had never expected—Jinwoo’s quiet sobs. The relief and raw emotion in his cries were palpable, and your chest tightened.

Red fluttered near your cheek, nudging you gently. You blinked, startled by the sensation, and reached up to touch your face. Your fingertips came away wet.

Am I… crying?

Was it relief? The burden of guilt you’d carried since arriving in this world? Or was it the knowledge that, for all you had done to make amends, it still didn’t feel like enough? The answer eluded you, slipping through your grasp like sand.

The realization hit you like a wave. Tears streamed down your cheeks, silent and unchecked. Sliding down the wall, you sank to the floor, muffling the sobs that escaped you. You thought back to Jinwoo’s trembling hands, perhaps you cried for him, too, knowing what he had endured.

Red settled on the back of your hand, its tiny weight grounding you. You buried your face in your knees, muffling the sobs that broke free from your chest. It was a cry of relief, of release—something you hadn’t allowed yourself in what felt like an eternity.

Your butterflies hovered close, taking the tray from your hands so you could curl in on yourself, your body shaking with quiet, cathartic sobs. You didn’t care how long you stayed like that, the tears flowing freely, silent cries you hadn’t allowed yourself to release in years.

---

Morning came quietly, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the hospital windows. Jinwoo stood near the door, watching as Jinah and their mother reunion.

He observed the reunion in silence, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and melancholy. My efforts weren’t in vain, he thought. Everything I’ve been through… it was all leading to this moment.

But, even as he watched, a shadow loomed over his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the cold, creeping doubt that had taken root within him. While working as a Hunter, I wonder if I distanced myself too much.

His hands flexed at his sides, the faint traces of blood from past battles lingering in his mind. Did I cross too many lines to get here?

The happy scene before him felt distant, like a dream he couldn’t quite touch. Shadows crept at the edges of his mind, pulling him back into the cold.

And then, just as he felt himself sinking into that familiar darkness, warmth bloomed beside him. He felt your presence before he saw you, the faint brush of your hand against his breaking through the encroaching cold.

Your smile was soft, kind—so achingly familiar. You didn’t say anything, simply turned your gaze toward the room, watching the reunion with him. You didn’t intrude, didn’t try to fill the silence. You simply stood beside him, as you always had.

For Jinwoo, it was everything. You, who had seen him at his lowest, who had walked the same dangerous paths as him, never judged him for the blood on his hands or the lines he’d crossed. You, who seemed to care not about what he’d done, but how it had changed him, how it had hurt him.

Without thinking, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. His grip was firm, as though holding you tighter might anchor him to the present. His head rested against your shoulder, and for a moment, the cold shadows melted away.

Just as he had done back in the Demon Castle.

This time, however, you didn’t hesitate. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him just as firmly.

For a moment, the world fell away. There was no fear, no doubt, only the warmth and softness of your presence and the steady beat of your heart against his. In that small bubble of time, Jinwoo found solace.

---

Jinwoo adjusted his outfit, a rare nervous energy settling over him. The meeting with Chairman Go Gunhee was supposed to be straightforward, but your parting words echoed in his mind:

"Jinwoo, don’t play around too much and control yourself."

That tone—one part teasing, one part serious—struck a chord he couldn't ignore. It wasn’t just what you said, but how you said it, as though you knew what would happen. There was an odd certainty in your voice, one that left Jinwoo unsettled yet strangely comforted.

The old him, back when he knew nothing about you, might have found it unnerving. But now, after everything the two of you had been through together, he understood. It wasn’t about predicting the future. It was about your care for him, your worry hidden behind a faint smile and practical advice. That realization carried a weight that Jinwoo couldn’t quite put into words.

Still, the meeting didn’t go as planned.

Goto Ryuji’s challenge was like a lit match dropped into dry grass, and Jinwoo's pride wouldn’t let him walk away. He knew better than to take the bait, but the competitive spark in his eyes had flared before he could stop it. The fight ended quickly, but not without consequences. Baek Yoonho and Cha Hae-In had to intervene, their sharp words reminding him of the delicate balance they needed to maintain before the Jeju Island raid.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of their reproach as he muttered a low apology. Goto Ryuji’s bruised pride was none of Jinwoo's concern, but he felt a pang of guilt knowing you’d likely scold him later.

That’s when he felt the tickling sensation on his cheek.

His fingers brushed the spot absently, catching the faintest shimmer of red as one of your butterflies perched lightly on his hand. Its wings blurred faintly, their edges dissolving like mist—the unmistakable sign that it was in stealth mode, visible only to him.

Jinwoo let out a quiet sigh.

"I’m going to get another earful, aren’t I?" he murmured.

The butterfly’s wings opened and closed in a deliberate rhythm, as though pitying him, its silent agreement clear.

A tiny smile tugged at Jinwoo’s lips, but it didn’t last. The weight of his recent memories bore down on him, and unease gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

---

His mind flashed back to the Demon Castle raid, where the memory of your collapse haunted him.

You had been strong—always a step ahead of everyone else, calm and meticulous in a way that Jinwoo had come to rely on. But the sight of you fighting to stand, your skin pale and your movements sluggish, had shattered that illusion.

You weren’t invincible.

The marks that had marred your skin, black tendrils crawling like cracks in glass—how had he not noticed them before? He should have known something was wrong, especially with your insistence on wearing gloves even when there was no practical need for them. Yet, he had been blind, too caught up in his own plans to see the signs.

When the marks finally disappeared, seeping into your skin, he thought it was over. But you hadn’t woken up right away. Your disorientation, the way you vomited and struggled to focus—it had scared him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He had promised to protect you. Twice.

Once, to convince you to join him on the first raid of the Demon Castle. And again, when Avarice Vulcan had wounded you so badly that Jinwoo had nearly lost himself to rage. Both times, you had been the one to pull him back.

Now, looking back, Jinwoo felt like a fool.

He thought his newfound strength would be enough to shield those he cared about. But when it came to you, he had failed.

---

The days that followed were agonizing.

Every time he tried to reach you through your butterflies, their voices echoed in his mind:

"Our Mistress is currently unavailable."

Even visiting the flower shop, hoping to find a way into your garden, had been fruitless. Instead of you, Jinho had appeared, his surprise at Jinwoo’s arrival quickly giving way to concern.

Jinwoo had brushed off the younger man’s questions, but the unease in his chest grew heavier.

Where were you? Were you okay?

---

The day before the Jeju Island raid, Jinwoo found himself scrolling through the news on his phone, more out of habit than interest.

Most of the headlines were the same: public criticism over his decision not to join the raid, speculation about the mutant ants, and debates about the effectiveness of the Hunters’ Association. None of it bothered him. Let the media talk.

But then, one particular report caught his attention.

A small island in Japan had been attacked by one of the mutated ants. The carnage was devastating, with streets littered with bodies and buildings left in ruins.

Yet, amidst the devastation, there were survivors.

According to their accounts, they had been on the brink of death when something miraculous happened. In an instant, they were transported to safety, unharmed. Dashcam footage recovered from the scene revealed peculiar white flowers growing where the survivors had been.

Heather.

The flowers didn’t seem extraordinary at first glance, but there was something unusual about the way they had spread, blooming rapidly in places the ant seemed to avoid.

Jinwoo stared at the images on his phone, his heart skipping a beat.

"There was an urgent, huge international order for a particular batch of flowers I needed to sort myself. I just got back from an island in Japan."

Your words came rushing back to him. At the time, he had dismissed his suspicions, caught up in your anger and the tension between you. But now, the pieces clicked into place.

The flowers. The survivors. The butterflies captured fleetingly on the footage.

It was you.

Jinwoo’s lips curled into a faint smirk despite himself. His chest felt lighter, though the ache of missing you hadn’t disappeared.

"You really are something else."

---

"Miss, close your eyes and run. Do not turn back."

The voice cuts through the chaos, steady yet carrying a weight Jinwoo immediately recognizes. That voice, your voice, is enough to quell his rising tension. Relief floods through him, a warmth that borders on overwhelming—relief that he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

The victim’s trembling frame stiffens at your command. You step in, your presence commanding enough to make her feet obey before her mind catches up. Jinwoo hears the hurried footsteps fading into the distance, his sharp senses noting the rhythm of her steps—panicked but determined. The danger has passed for her, at least.

Jinwoo’s focus snaps back to the assailant. The man charges forward, but Jinwoo moves faster, his fists colliding with the attacker with precise force. He doesn’t waste energy. One hit to incapacitate, a shadow planted to ensure the man doesn’t escape. The shadow would finish the job if necessary. Cold efficiency, honed by countless battles.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Jinwoo finally allows himself to turn to you.

His breath catches.

No, he wasn’t mistaken. He couldn’t be.

Your aura—it feels... different. The subtle, carefully measured energy that you always kept tightly controlled is now more pronounced, an unmistakable hum in the air that seems to vibrate against his own shadow-infused power. He can feel it thrumming against his senses, and the realization hits him.

A power-up. You’ve gained something new. Something significant.

His eyes narrow slightly, scrutinizing you as you stand there, calm yet unreadable. The faint glow of your eyes catches his attention next—not the familiar, soft silver he’s accustomed to, but a warm, piercing gold. The aura surrounding you is tinged with the same hue, golden light almost blending with the misty outlines of your ever-present butterflies.

This isn’t just a small change.

Jinwoo’s thoughts race, trying to piece together what this means. A power-up of this magnitude only happens under extreme conditions. What had you been through? What had happened during your absence?

Almost as if you sense his spiraling thoughts, you tilt your head slightly, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

"I was going to talk with you," you begin, your voice calm and deliberate, "but while I was in the garden, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Your family is waiting for you, no? Let’s talk tomorrow, after you finish the system’s daily quest. At my shop."

Not your garden? That catches him off guard. You almost always prefer the sanctuary of your garden for private conversations.

Jinwoo’s brows furrow slightly. "What about Jinho?"

"He felt bad for practically staying for free, so he insisted on helping me. He’s taking care of a new batch of seeds I ordered from the outskirts. He’ll be gone for a while."

Your voice is as steady as ever, but Jinwoo detects a faint edge to it, something unspoken yet deliberate. He wants to press for more, to ask about the power radiating off you in waves, about the glow in your eyes, about your absence. But he hesitates.

Experience has taught him that patience works best with you. Rushing would only make you retreat further behind your carefully constructed walls.

So he nods.

Your smile, faint and fleeting, does something strange to him. His heart skips a beat—something that’s been happening far too often recently for him to ignore, though he still doesn’t understand why.

Then, as you always do, you vanish into a swarm of glowing butterflies. Golden, not silver. The warmth of your presence dissipates, leaving only the faintest trace behind.

Jinwoo’s hand twitches involuntarily, his fingers almost reaching out to grasp what’s left of the warmth. He clenches his fist instead, letting out a soft sigh.

He missed you. Far more than he should have.

---

A few days earlier…

The familiar hum of your garden surrounds you. The soft rustle of leaves, the gentle sway of blossoms in the breeze—it should calm you, yet your hands tremble slightly as you swipe to open the system notification.

It had been waiting for you since you woke up disoriented, the memories—or were they visions?—still haunting the edges of your mind.

The system screen materializes, the golden background and white letters brighter than usual, almost jubilant in their presence:

You raise an eyebrow, your lips pressing into a thin line. “The answers I seek, huh?”

[Congratulations!

'Trial' Player (Name) has completed the requirements needed to ascend to the next stage.

Get stronger to earn the answers you seek of!]

Was it talking about your isekai origins? The fragmented memories from the vision? Or... something else?

But one detail immediately catches your eye. The word “Trial.” Why is it suddenly quoted?

Before you can linger on that thought, another notification pops up:

[New updates have been given!]

Your eyes light up with curiosity, scrolling through the updates with growing excitement. Each new feature feels like a gift, one surprise after another. Around you, your butterflies flutter in sync with your mood, their translucent wings shimmering faintly in the light.

It’s almost enough to distract you from the unease lingering at the back of your mind.

A blinking white dot on the system’s mailbox pulls your attention. You tap it.

You snort softly. “Why not? It’s probably not much since Jinwoo hogs all the rewards, but—”

[Cumulative EXP has been counted.

Would you like to receive it now?]

You freeze.

“Oh,” you breathe, voice barely audible. Then louder, as panic sets in: “Oh no.”

Notifications flood your vision, back-to-back. They blur together, but the last one stands out:

[New Quest: Ascension, Part II is now available!]

The world tilts.

A wave of golden light surrounds you, the system’s presence overwhelming as it forces the changes upon you.

“Children,” you murmur, voice weak as vertigo takes hold, “be a dear, will you? Your mother’s going to pass out…”

The chorus of panicked voices from your butterflies echoes around you.

"My Lady/Mistress/Mother!"

Amid their frantic cries, the system chimes with a suspiciously cheerful tone:

[Stay strong, 'Trial' Player! :) ]

You groan, the edges of your vision darkening. "Oh, shut up, will you..."

The last thing you feel is the sensation of multiple hands—your butterflies’ manifestation—pillowing your fall before darkness claims you.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [23/11/2024] -

[romana-after-dark]

Keep Cry'n

Joel Miller x reader

Join dark!Romana's tag list Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Shout out to the girlies in the Whorefully yours discord for encouraging my dark side lol

Summary: Joel kidnapps you, but can't even wait long eough to put his dick inside you to cum. (Reader is rather Little One coded but this is a completetly separate fic from The Wrong Way)

Warnings and Content: NON CON, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !!!!!! Hair pulling, kidnapping, masturbation, cumming on face, dirty and degrading talk, crying, dacryphilia, Joel is really psycho in this, maybe a lil off his rocker. Implied future abuse. Literally like so much crying.

DONT LIKE IT, DONT READ! If you do not wish to see rape on your feeds at all, i suggest blocking the tags such as non con, dddne, dead dove do not eat, and depending on preferences maybe dub con, yandere, or dark fics. No judgement if its not your thing!

*****************

Your head hurts. So bad. That was all you could think about as Joel dragged you off his house and up the porch by your hair with no regard for how you were supposed to keep up with his long stride. Scalp on fire, you scramble to stand but it seemed he would purposefully yank at you just to make you stumble. 

You can hear him smiling as he speaks, the outline of his cheeks giving away the wide grin if you can look up long enough to catch a glimpse. “Pretty fucking girl. Gonna make such a nice little toy.” 

He doesn’t care that you're crying. He doesn’t care that he took you away from everything you know. He doesn’t care that you are scared. He wants to use you.

Your hands are tied behind your back so you fall on your face when he trusts you onto the shitty mattress, dirt being inhaled into your lungs.

“Just gotta be good for a few days, pretty baby, ‘till I get tired of you and move onto the next shiny thing. Think you can manage that?”

Sobbing, you nod. You can do this. You can…

Your confidence wavers as he stands above you, palming himself and moaning. “Oooohhh fuck, such a pretty little baby, uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhuhuhuuuh” Joel sucks his breath in through his teeth, then shutters it out. “Get the fuck over here.” Joel reaches over and yanks on your hair again, pressing your face up against his jeans-clothes crotch. His musk was strong, the smell of his dick was sweaty and masculine and you could not help but feel just a little turned on. You couldn’t help it; it was biological, primal, evolutionary. 

With your hands still tied behind your back, you were helpless to the way Joel ground your face up against himself, his hard cock prominent despite the stiff material. Fingers entangled in your hair, Joel trust his hips up in your face as you sob, “Fuck baby, keep cry’n, I can feel your tears on my dick.” Joel pressed you tightly up against his crotch, your mouth pressed over the outline of his member and muffled your cries as they turned into attempts to scream. You wanted to bite but you knew better.

When he finally let go, allowing you to sit back on your haunches and breath, Joel unzipped his pants and thrust them and his tighty whitey’s down in one go, his massive cock hanging heavy between his legs. A sick man, Joel gripped your face in his large, rough hands to gather up the wetness before he fucked his fist. 

“God, I need to cum right fuck’n now” He grumbled to himself as he furiously pumped the extensive length. “Ain’t got time to- oh fu-u-u-ck, ain’t got time to fight your pants off.” Joel lets out a loud groan, bucking his hips as his breath shutters before looking down at your crying and shaking figure. “Oh fuck, you look so scared!” He has the audacity to chuckle, smiling at you as he gently nudges you with his boot just to see you cry more. He jerked harder and harder, his cock red and throbbing inches from your face. “There we go, fuuuuuck! Uh, uh, uuuhhhggg” Ropes of white began to spurt out of him, Joel grunting aggressively mixed with huffed out chuckles, a wide, joker-like grin on his face as his eyes sparkled with mischievous possibilities for the future.

Joel took his softening dick and wiped your tears and his cum with it. “Pretty little thing… goddamn… make’n me cum without even touching me, fucking fantastic.” 

You feel the wetness on your face, a mixture of fluids painting you up like a picture. 

Joel pushed you down onto the bed, not even bothering to pull up his pants as he pulled you on his naked body, sighing. He takes a knife out of his pocket, however, and cuts off your ties. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him as you cry. You just wanted to be held, to feel touch and comfort and you didn’t care who it came from. “Oh god, princess…” He’s panting still, a crazy grin plastered upon his face as he stared up at the ceiling, laughing to himself. “Such pretty skin, such a pretty face…” Joel chuckled, long fingers massaging down your still-clothed body. 

“Gonna be a lot of fun playing with it.”

*******************

First dark! joel one shot ina while, woozers.

Love me my crazy man.

Got a cool ask today for a dark triple frontier Will Miller that I loooooove that I will be working on after a few other WIPS.

Also got an idea for a dark!joel sugar daddy yandere vibes fic, a dark!William Tell, and a dark!Nathan Bateman. I also plan to work on a short series (3 parts maybe?) of a darker ending to tww where Joel wins.

If you like this, click the link at the top to be added to my ongoing tag list!

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@hereforthepedrofanfic @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and maybe @toxicanonymity might enjoy.....

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

saying goodbye

(cw: age gap 25/41; mndi, slight nsfw; angst, brief discussion of loss and fear of death)

the part before: comforting him

I wanted to do something nice for König before he goes on his next mission, before he has to leave. Which is quite the challenge to make it a surprise from him when you’re living together. Well, staying together, but it doesn’t change the fact that we spend most of our time with each other.

Another reason, why this doesn't feel like dating anymore. It doesn't feel like just being exclusive. It doesn't feel like a living arrangement because he broke my bed. Also, he seems to be doing better again, after the little downward spiral that plagued him at the end of last week. At the same time… I can't shake the feeling that he's a bit more closed off than he was before.

I sigh. He’ll leave in only two days and we agreed that I would go home tomorrow because, well… it can’t be postponed any longer.

I already knew he has to sort out some stuff today before being deployed, driving into the city, getting a medical check-up and also arranging the details for my new bed to finally be delivered. But this gives me the chance to pack up most of my stuff and prepare what I wanted to surprise him with while he is away for a few hours.

I went grocery shopping after work, got everything that the recipe called for, and started as soon I was back at his place. I cut so many onions for this, I’m all cried out, but I still can’t help the little lump sitting in the back of my throat, closing it up, which has nothing to do with the cut vegetables

He comes back earlier than I anticipated, mumbling something about an incompetent doctor and how he doesn’t like to have his blood drawn. But I shoo him out of his own kitchen with a few comforting words, tell him to sit in the living room and read something. And not disturb me.

“Aye-aye, Ma’am.”, he says, an amused smirk on his face as he jokingly salutes. I roll my eyes and laugh a little, patting his butt, to make him hurry along.

I still need to prepare the sidedish and let the stew cook for a little longer to make sure the meat is tender and the sauce is thick enough. At least that’s what the recipe said. And I need to make sure I do everything right.

When it’s finally done, the kitchen looks like somebody threw around food, although I did my best to clean up as I go.

I fill one of the soup dishes with the stew, putting the Nockerl in there as well, the dough already soaking up some of the sauce. I compare the dish in front of me with the picture from the recipe and I’m actually content with how it came out.

I set the plate down on the island where the seats are and call for König while I get myself a smaller portion. I hear his steps before his huge stature appears in the doorframe.

“Uh, dinner is ready.”, I say wryly smiling at him, with my plate in my hands. I set it down next to his.

“I can see that and I already smelled the cooking in the living room, it smells deli-“ The words gets stuck in his throat as he comes closer, stopping in front of the plate. He drops onto the seat, the furniture aching under his weight. The smile he was still wearing when he came into the kitchen has dissipated, his mouth hanging open, when he looks up from his plate, his eyes finding mine. He looks almost in shock.

I sit down next to him, suddenly very unsure if this whole ordeal even was a good idea.

“You cooked Gulasch?”, he asks, his voice wavering.

I nod. “Yes, I remember how you said that you liked it, so uh, I tried to make it.”

“But you’re vegetarian.”, he adds.

“Yes, but you aren’t. And the original recipe calls for beef.”, I explain, putting the doughy pillows that the Austrians call Nockerl onto my fork, scooping up some of the sauce. I just want to try a bit of, tasting a part of his origins.

He’s still staring as I put the fork into my mouth, and well, he didn’t promise too much when he was talking about his favourite food because that’s really delicious. Though I’m unsure about how authentic it is.

His gaze moves from me to the plate in front of him, finally picking up the fork, and he digs in, taking the biggest bite. I wait to see what his reaction would be like. He shovels two, three forkfuls into his mouth, chewing, tasting. And then suddenly just stops. Goes completely still. And I don’t know what’s going on as his head drops forward, his hair hanging in front of his face.

A small silent sob shakes his chest and a stray tear falls from his face into the stew. My heart drops to my feet. Fuck.

“We don’t need to eat it, if it’s no good.”, I say lightly, trying not to let it affect me. When I go to grab his plate, his head whips in my direction, and I finally get a good look at his face.

“What, no?! I-“ He takes a deep breath, his hand wiping over his eyes quickly, like the tear was never there. “This is the nicest thing somebody has done for me in a long time.”, he finally says. “And it reminds me of my Oma.” A deep sigh shakes his tall frame. “So, thank you, okay? It’s delicious.” He takes my hands, softly pulling them towards him, pressing a kiss on each palm.

The sadness in his eyes isn’t completely gone when I look into them, and I didn’t anticipate that this simple gesture of cooking him his favourite meal would have him in shambles like that. But the smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is a warm one, thankful and happy.

“You’re welcome.”, I simply tell him. “I’m glad you like it.” I press my lips to his, reassuring the big giant that it was okay, without saying it out loud.

When I pull back, he lingers, his hand shooting up to the back of my head, stealing another kiss. Long, deep and oh so soft. Another “thank you”, without saying it out loud.

“What was your Oma like?”, I ask him, taking a forkful of my sauced-up Nockerl. He talked about her before, but it might keep me from tearing up as well.

The smile on his face gets wider and he starts to tell stories about her. Leaving the other people in his family out of it, for the most part.

How she always asked him to get the stuff from the upper shelves because he was already taller than her at age 12. How he sat in the kitchen doing his homework while she cooked. How she stopped pestering him about going to church on Sunday eventually, but still almost smacked him in his head when he turned the cross in the living room upside down as a joke. How she cried when he joined the military because that was the last thing she wished for him. How she still let him go and how he had to promise her to come back – or else. How he helped her in the garden every time he came home and kept doing that well into his 30s. And how he nearly missed her funeral because he almost couldn’t get permission to leave for a few days.

König takes seconds and even thirds, eating almost all of the Gulasch I cooked. I’m already done sitting over my empty plate, listening to him talk, getting us something to drink. When he is done as well, he grabs the plates to wash up, not letting me help in any way, because “Oh no, you already cooked and everything”. He tells me to pick out a movie I’d like to watch, the glint in his eyes telling me that it’s probably going to get cut short again, so I put on Pulp Fiction, a movie we both have watched countless times before.

He laughs as he comes into the living room with a beer in his hand and sees my choice on the flatscreen, taking a seat at the couch and I hop onto his lap when his ass barely touched the cushions. We’re entangled, as close as you can be. And it doesn’t take long for his hands to wander. Squeeze, caress, stroke over my body. Teasing me with soft kisses against my neck until a heavy sigh leaves my lips. He takes that as an invitation to finally take me to the bedroom where he lies me down on the mattress to eat me out, while he kneels on the floor. Messy, sloppy licks and nibbles, his fingers methodically filling me until I cum for him, my thighs pressing together around his head.

He crawls over me, pushing into me with his dick, after teasing my clit some more with his tip, the piercing deliciously pressing into the sensitive nub.

Slow and sweet doesn’t mean less intense, the soft stretch with every sensual roll of his hips sending sensations over my body, making me pant and throw my head back with pleasure.

His hand on my chin compelling me look at him while he is fucking me like this… until it doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore. When I come again, this time around his dick, it feels like a soft wave washing over me, his name on my lips, and he doesn’t stop pushing into me, prolonging my orgasm and chasing his own until he spills inside me.

He presses kisses to my cheek, pulling me into him, and we snuggle up against each other to fall asleep. My back is against his front, the heat of his body warming me, that I don’t even need a blanket. Feeling the comfort of his embrace a little more clearly than usual.

And the realisation hits me that he is going to leave. And I’m gonna go back home, to my apartment. No more König when I come home from work. No shared meals in the kitchen, no sitting in his lap on the couch. No laughing fits in the middle of the night when one of us says something so stupid that the other can’t comprehend. No filthy sex and tender kisses. No calling him “old man” to get a rise out of him. No dirty punishment for my bratty ass. No feeling him inside me, his brows turned up, his eyes rolling back in ecstatic expression as he comes. None of it, at least for some time.

I push those thoughts away, pulling his arms tighter around me as if I could keep him like this. I close my eyes, ignoring the one stray tear that rolls down my cheek, and drift off into sleep.

And with this the day I have been dreading the whole week is finally here. The day when I return to my own apartment after staying with him for weeks. I even took a day off of work for this.

I’m trying not to let it show too much, because it’s a bit stupid. This living arrangement always was meant to be temporary and I always knew he was on leave, needing to go back to his work at some point sooner or later. But now that it’s here… I kinda don’t want it to happen at all.

The coffee tastes a little bitter as I sip it, even though he added just as much milk as usual, with the typical joking disgust while diluting the tasty elixir, that always makes me chuckle and shake my head.

The sunlight streaming through the big windows in the living room blinds me as it reflects off the shiny couch upholstery when I go to collect Mimi from her spot, putting her in the cat carrier.

The book I finished reading on the weekend gets caught when I push it into its place on the shelf, some of the pages creasing. I curse, showing König and apologizing. He takes the book from my grasp, straightening out the crinkles, and puts it back. “Don’t worry, Liebes, it’s just a book.”, he says, his arm coming around me as he pulls me against his warm body and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I get the rest of my stuff, seeing that one of my yarn balls has tangled into a net of knots, and I curse again. Of course, it did. I put my crochet bag into one of the boxes and carry it outside.

With a sigh I look back over my shoulder one last time and close the door behind me, placing my stuff in the trunk and climbing into the driver’s seat of my own car. Starting it and driving after him, and it’s weird not to sit right next to him in his car.

It’s weird being home again. Letting Mimi out of her carrier, the little kitty running around, brushing against his legs. And he picks her up, carrying her around, just like they always do. The small creature is purring against his chest as he shimmies her around, humming some tune I can't place.

It’s weird standing here in my apartment with him, waiting for the bed to be delivered. I can feel my bubbly yapping coming back, not being able to shut up, and König is listening like he always does. Short, one-worded answers while his hand is petting Mimi, scratching between her ears and under her chin.

The doorbell ringing tears us from our conversation. The delivery guys are handing the packages over, asking if they should help bring them in, but König declines, giving them a tip and sending them their way.

I’m not as easily deterred from trying to help with the packages, although König is carrying most of them, barely breaking a sweat, while I struggle with the smallest one.

Sitting on the bedroom floor, his tall figure still reaching up to my hips before I get down next to him. He’s glancing at the instructions, squeezing his eyes together, but I can tell he’s having a hard time seeing the illustrations of the steps correctly.

And of course he is too stubborn to ask for help. I grin to myself and shake my head. “Forgot your glasses?”, I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.”, he says wryly, and I extend my hand, suggesting silently he’ll hand over the instructions and he does, with a sigh and a little smile.

While I’m still studying the instructions, he’s laying out the pieces and already putting the first parts together. Of course, he is choosing the hands-on approach, even with stuff like that, figuring it out as he moves along, and I chime in with a few comments here and there, guiding the construction.

His long hair is getting in the way and I lend him a hair tie, and I don’t think I’ll ever manage to get over how meticulous he puts his hair in a ponytail. I mean, he probably has done that same move for years, his hands collecting all the stray strands, the band snapping around them with two quick motions and then it just sits perfectly at the back of his head.

We spent so much time together and I realise that I’ve never seen him do that. The whole time he was always wearing his hair down, some strands hanging in front of his face. Sometimes he put them into a lose bun when he was working out, but never like this.

“What?”, he asks me, a hint of uncertainty on his face.

I shake my head. “Nothing, your hair looks good like that.”, I say, clearing my voice when it dares to break off, but I save it with a smile which gets mirrored by his, and I can’t help but put a kiss onto it while a pang of something spreads in my chest. I feel like I know him so well, and yet I keep learning parts of him I’ve never seen before.

“Come on, Hexe.”, he says when I linger, prolonging the kiss, caught in my thoughts, his hand patting my hip which makes me giggle a bit, but I can't shake the feeling that's settling in my stomach. Fuck, he's gonna leave.

Pretty quickly we construct the bed, it’s easy enough, especially when you’re following the instructions – a sentiment I say out loud after he managed to stick two pieces together who fit, but actually belong like that. He just grins and pulls them apart easily, his muscles flexing for just a moment.

“Show-off.”, I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

Finally, the frame is done, the slats already fitted into it and last but not least, we hoist the mattress onto them.

“You didn’t need to buy me a new one, you know.”

He shoots me a look. A knowing one.

“Really, it was fine. The old one would have sufficed.”

“I have slept on that mattress. You needed a new one.”

“Oh, that's just your old bones.”, I quip, and I know how ridiculous I must sound telling that to a soldier who can probably sleep anytime anywhere.

He pinches my nose. “You're not getting younger yourself, Missy.”, he answers. "Your back will be thankful."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I say grinning and bump my hip against his, rather hitting the burly thigh, before getting some bedsheets.

The fresh sheets match the nice dark wood of the bedframe, the bed now looking so much nicer than the rest of my furniture pieces.

“Thanks. For the new bed.”, I tell him, smiling up at him, getting on my tiptoes.

“No need to thank me, Liebes.”, he answers, leaning down and meeting me halfway for a kiss. “It was my fault you needed a new one in the first place.”, a wry grin accompanying his words.

“Well, this looks much sturdier like the one I had before.” I tap the wooden frame, a hollow knock resounding.

“Well, I needed to make sure that it wouldn’t break that easily again.”, he says, smiling down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. A reminder of how we broke it in the first place.

“Care to test that theory?”, I ask him cheekily, although I’m not really in the mood right now. My heart is way too heavy.

Before I can say anything else, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me up on the bed, the mattress dipping down under my weight. His hands are steadying me when I start to jump up and down, bouncing on it. Damn, it’s really nice. And I don't dare to ask how much he spent on it.

“Sturdy enough, you think?”, he asks me.

I nod. “You wanna come up here too?”, I tease him.

He shakes his head, just grinning, following my movements up and down with his eyes.

“Oh come on!”, I exclaim, not ready to stop this sillyness.

He pulls up his eyebrows. “I don’t think that would be wise, we don’t need to push it.”, he grins, when all of a sudden, there’s a faint cracking sound, and I stop, almost toppling over trying to hold my balance on the wobbling mattress.

“Point and case.”, he remarks as his arms coming around my waist as he lifts me off the bed.

“Okay, okay…”

I hold onto him like a little spider monkey, my legs closing around him, my cheek pressing against his shoulder as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Like I could keep him here like that. Or he’ll just take me with him when I stick to him like a limpet. Maybe I’m small enough to fit into his pocket.

My fingers get caught in his hair as I try to run them through it like I always do, and he pulls the hair tie from them, putting it away, letting me play with the long strands, as he goes to sit down.

The couch in my apartment is way smaller than his, his frame fills the cushions easily, so I have nowhere else to sit but his lap. Like I would have sat anywhere else. Trying to be as close to him as possible.

We’re not saying anything, just sitting here. My head rests against his shoulder, his scent all around me. I can hear his heart beat, feel it beneath my fingertips resting on his chest. Steady and strong, but a little too fast.

His hands are gently caressing my thighs and back, and even though I feel the sadness seep into me, the soft touches ground me.

We sit in silence for what seems eternity while at the same time lasting barely more than the blink of an eye. And I wish we could remain in this moment, frozen in time, but well.

He sighs softly, the deep sound pulling me from my thoughts, and I lift my head, to look at him.

“We need to say goodbye.” He slumps back, his shoulders hitting the backrest. “I wish I didn’t need to go.”, he exhales. Saying what I was thinking.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here when you're on leave again.", I tell him, softly kissing his cheek. He turns to me, the expression on his face serious and... a bit sad.

"But you shouldn't be.", he says, calm and steady.

"But-", I want to protest.

He shakes his head. "No, you should be with somebody your age, someone who can give you stability." He sighs. "Someone who can guarantee you that they'll come back to you. Every time they leave."

And the realisation hits me. He isn't saying goodbye for now. He's saying goodbye for good.

“I see.”, is all I manage because my feelings come crashing down over me with a vicious fervor. I thought I was going to have to deal with him leaving for weeks or months. With him being gone for a while. Not with a breakup.

“I’m sorry.”, he apologizes and starts to explain. “I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.” The admission in his words makes my stomach flip upside down. I actually feel a little nauseous as my hands grip my own thighs, trying to hold onto something. “And I should’ve maybe said something earlier.” He swallows hard.

“The truth is that I had the best time this leave, and that was solely because of you.” He finally looks at me again, the raw emotions in his eyes almost scaring me. But the resolve in them is clear as well. “I couldn’t get myself to break it off. But I can’t make you wait for me either. Because I can’t even promise you that I will return.” His voice is shaking now and seeing him like this makes my lower lip tremble as I just try to breathe.

“And I can’t do that to you. The thought of you waiting for me at home and only a casket coming back… has been killing me inside these past few days.” The words come out choked and I can’t look at him anymore, my head snapping to the side as that image fills my mind. “Fuck, I’m really sorry, okay?”

We sit here like this for a moment longer. His hands stopped caressing my thighs and back, and I want to scream. The cold feeling of loss grips my heart, a viciously clawed hand leaving gaping wounds as it was making its way up my chest. He’s still sitting underneath me, but I feel like he’s already gone.

“I get it.”, I finally say, my voice trembling and hoarse. Still not able to look at him because I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my tears.

“I knew you would.”, he says, the words breaking up as he speaks. And I think back to when he told me that he couldn’t have a partner or family because his job won’t allow it. And I finally get why he thinks like that. At least I guess so. The big house devoid of any life but him, his own little safe haven, and I only now understand how temporary this whole arrangement really had been. I just didn’t see it. Maybe because I didn’t want to.

While I still try to process everything, he lifts me up and sets me down on the cushions of the couch. Like he did countless times the last few weeks. In his living room. And a sob tears from my chest because the gesture reminds me of so many tender and filthy moments at the same time. I hug my knees, pulling them close to me, already missing the warmth of his body. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.

He crouches down, coming face to face with me, and it just hurts to look at him. The bandshirt he bought for the concert we went to together. The tattoos on his knuckles, straining from the tension in his balled-up fists. The long dark hair, pushed to the side, falling back down his shoulder. I don’t need to touch it, to know how soft it feels. The mouth that smiled at me so often. The lips I have kissed countless times and that have kissed every inch of my body. The furrowed brows. The slack expression on his face concealing the laughlines. And for the first time since I’ve known him looking into his eyes doesn’t give me comfort.

He carefully takes my chin, the pads of his fingertips rough against the skin, softly digging into my jaw, like he likes – liked to do. He leans forward pressing a kiss to my lips which almost makes the tears drop from my eyes. A kiss to say goodbye, gentle and bittersweet.

"Stay safe, okay?", he whispers, his eyes looking intently into mine, but I can only nod. My throat is closed up because I know he won't be safe. Not saying anything because I don't want to cry in front of him. Because that will only make it harder, on both of us.

He straightens back up and leaves. The door falls shut behind him.

And I finally let the waterworks flow, sobs shaking my chest as I throw myself into the couch where he sat just a few moments ago.

Mimi’s meow pulls me from my crying fit when she jumps up onto the couch, her little head bumping into me, and I pull her against my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks. And the odd thought crosses my mind if the crinkles in the book on his shelf are the only remainders of me in his house. While I have this new bed.

How did we get here? Masterlist or the next part

a/n: i have been working on this chapter for months and i knew what was coming and now that it's finished, i can't help but still feel the sadness hitting me 🥲 - and no, this is not the last chapter (in case you were fearing that rn) take this recipe for authentic austrian beef gulasch as a token of my apology

[softshuji]

11:16AM | HAITANI RINDOU

Summary: Rindou knows he loves you, he just has a hard time saying it. In his case, actions speak louder than words. Likes and reblogs appreciated! Link to my masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, mild descriptions of violence and injury, mild suggestive content, mild sexual content, lots of kissing, marking, use of pet names (pretty thing,princess) Rin and reader being down bad.

Rindou thinks he knows the exact moment he fell for you. It’s not special, nothing explosive and there are no fireworks bursting with colour in his chest like he’s been made to believe. It’s nothing like he thought it would feel in fact. It felt a little like falling, like weightlessness creeping into his bones, jelly-like. Inevitable.

You’re talking animatedly and his head is inclining in your direction as he listens, one hand propping up his chin and the other resting on his knee. Clenching and unclenching, tightly wound with sparks whenever it accidentally brushes your leg under the table. 

You lean forward to tuck the hair kissing his cheeks behind his ear and Rindou freezes. You move on and rock on your chair, as if you haven’t made his heart punch against the flesh of his chest.

He glances both ways instinctively looking for Ran, and his stupid smirk that seems to creep over his shoulder whenever something even vaguely embarrassing happens. But there is no Ran, there is no rumbling chuckle just around the corner, no teasing. Just you and him. He watches your eyes flick to him every few seconds, then drift to the distance as you mull over your thoughts and Rindou can only swallow against the lump now growing in his throat, a pathetic and even futile attempt to calm the blood pulsing in his veins.

‘Rin? You alright?’ Your eyebrows furrow and your hand instinctively moves again to tuck the stray strand of silky hair behind his ear and Rindou thinks you must be denser than he is if you can’t sense the hairs on his arms standing on end or his cheeks flush under the weight of your stare.

‘Hm? Yeah, fine.’ Futile once again. He coughs into his hand, hoping it doesn’t betray the slight waver in his voice. ‘What were you saying?’ He realizes at that moment, how painful it is to be around you, the dissonance between wanting to touch you and then not, the confusion of those feelings, a mass churning in his head. 

Of course he looks down periodically, and his hair slips from behind his ear and your hand moves on instinct to tuck it back, your fingers lingering near his neck and Rindou feels sick with how much he wants to feel them on his skin and kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Perhaps in hindsight, the exact moment he falls for you is somewhere before all this. Perhaps it’s the moment he first stumbles through your door, wincing and clutching his side as his hand catches the doorframe, his shirt torn open to reveal a red and angry pulsing gash licking at his skin, his toned abs flexing under the strain of pulling himself onto your sofa. Your hands are tender, soft, hesitant even as you bunch the cotton in your fingers, squeezing the excess water out as you dab at the split in his lip. 

You tut under your breath, an eyebrow raised, as you are prone to do he knows, when you are pretending to be exacerbated and admonish him for being so careless. He wonders how your eyes can be so kind and gentle when your voice is so stern and he’s bleeding out on your sofa, wonders at how you haven’t cried or screamed or shook when the blood seeps between the gap in your fingers. 

Your smile is reassuring and you kiss at the apple of his cheeks as his eyes flutter with fatigue, whispering your assurances as he bites down hard on his lip, suppressing the pain he pretends not to feel, as you know he is prone to do.

‘You’re an idiot,’ you say and press the gauze to the skin that reveals pinkened torn flesh and he groans, throwing his head back as his fists tighten on the corner of your hoodie. His hoodie in actuality. Despite this, your thumb traces a line down the fine hairs on his stomach, the black whorls that sneak below the waistband of his trousers and his breath hitches as your eyes flick to meet his. You think of slipping your hand beneath, your thighs splayed out on his as you whisper against his mouth, rocking slightly against his hips till his breath is hot on your skin and you’re all but swallowing his moans. 

But you don’t. Instead, you chastise him and stand, taking the bloodied wads of cotton to the bins and leaving him to sleep with an old blanket that smells of you. It’s fear that’s eating you up, a cavity gnawing tightly on your stomach. Fear, shame, anxiety, a word that curls in your head as you toss and turn at night in your own bed, separated by a single wall from him. 

Rindou holds your blanket to his mouth, his nose and he wonders at all the lost possibilities he’s carelessly thrown away as the dawn gives way to a morning of buttery sunlight, and you both think of each other as you sleep. 

Perhaps in retrospect, the moment he falls for you  isn’t that either. Perhaps it’s the day his call first goes to voicemail and he finds he’s pouting as he listens to the automated message. And the barrage of calls only grows, his anxiety seemingly heavier with it till he’s all but racing to your apartment with his gun firmly in his hand. He can’t keep the urgency from his voice when he tells Ran as he thunders from the building, his words clipped, the sweat on the back of neck making a steady trail between his shoulder blades.

‘Rin, it’s probably nothing,’ Ran says as his Brother pushes past him, slamming the car door and driving off as the exhaust fumes curl in the air.

‘Y/N always answers my calls,’ he tells himself, a pathetic attempt to quell the thunderous beat of his heart against his ribs. 

But when he arrives, slamming the door open with your name on his lips, music drifting from the open kitchen door, his anxiety is quelled like water to a fire. Because there you are, your back to him, a sundress flaring around your waist, golden sunlight falling over the lip of the window. And humming, a low sound undulating the soft chords thrumming through the speakers.

‘Y/N?’ A whisper, all he can manage as the gun finds its way back into the waistband of his pants. 

You turn swiftly on your heel,dropping the spatula that’s halfway to your mouth and Rindou catches the faint dusting of white icing sugar smeared on your cheeks. He takes a step. Two. Three. His arms instinctively come around you, and he smells strawberries on your skin, your hair, on the smidge of cake mixture on your lip that you dart your tongue out to lick up.

‘Rin?’ you say, the spatula clattering to the floor, your arms coming to rest against the flat of his back, your breath hot and sweet on his neck.

‘Why didn’t you answer my calls?’ His voice is muffled by your hair, the crease of your neck, his breath from where it’s been caught in his throat.

You furrow your brows against his shoulder, your hand coming up to rub loose circles against the base of his spine. ‘Oh, I didn’t know, I wanted to make something to surprise you.’ The other hand gestures towards the array of spoons and bowls littering the countertop.

Ran asks him later that day, whether he likes you as more than a friend and Rindou only shrinks into his seat, scowling and pouting as he turns the question over in his head, a muted ‘Yes’ sitting on the flat of his tongue. Ran knows obviously, it’s as clear as night and day what his brother feels, the way his eyes follow you as you move, the faint smattering of pink half hidden beneath the shadow of his hair, the smile he thinks is reserved enough not to be noticed. 

‘He likes you Y/N.’ Ran says as throws his keys onto the coffee table, flicking on the lights as he fishes around in his sparse fridge for leftovers, tutting under his breath at the bareness of its shelves.It’s a regular pastime this is. You call Ran to talk about Rindou, to gush like a schoolgirl kicking her legs in the air, and Ran listens, as he always does, to the floaty voice on the other end, interspersed by sniffles.

‘He does not.’ You curl around your pillow, missing the warmth of him, your phone pressed between your ear and the pillow under your head. ‘He’s just being nice.’

A sniffle drips down the line as you press the duvet corner to your eyes. 

‘Trust me he does, Rindou doesn’t do “just being nice”.’ There is a beep as the microwave is switched on, thinly veiled behind the slosh of liquid and the shuffle of fabric as Ran pulls his jacket off. ‘All he ever talks about is you. I should be mad you’re taking so much of my baby brother’s attention from me.’ This last part said with mirth and the trace of a fond smile.

It’s a pleasant daydream to turn this way and that in your mind as you  drift to sleep, even if you don’t quite believe it. 

In your dreams, those private chambers locked and bolted, things are perfect. You find that belonging to him is easier than you thought it would be. He is soft underneath those harsh edges, you can trace your thumb over the outline of him.  Honest and quiet and safe and you could spend hours lost in that infinitesimal space between day and night, that thin splice of half-reality where everything is as you want it to be. 

Little do you know of course, that on the other side of the city, beneath a moon that’s milky white, proud and big in the sky, Rindou turns over a dream of his own. One in which he slots his lips against yours, swallows the breath that’s hitched in your throat as his hands come up to rest against your hips. Perhaps, if his dream self is feeling brave, he’ll pull you against him and you’ll feel the force of his want through his slacks and his lips will dip to sink against the curve of your shoulder. He thinks your eyes are beautiful as it is but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch them flutter shut as you came undone beneath him.

Maybe the day he realizes he has fallen for you, irrevocably, hopelessly even, is the day he watches Sanzu tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he bends to titter against it, a lame joke that trails off into a chuckle, one arm supporting his weight against the wall and the other languidly tracing a curve along your cheek. 

‘You’re such a pretty thing aren’t you? Lovely thing like you could get eaten right up in a place like this.’ His lips are tantalisingly close, and he smells vaguely of woodsmoke, gunpowder and metal. 

You smile placatingly, shivering slightly under Haruchiyo’s intense gaze, and Rindou turns, the familiar lick of embarrassment, shame, green and turbulent jealousy running down his back. 

Ran raises an eyebrow at the way Rindou bunches his hands into taut fists. ‘You need to tell her,’ he says. ‘If you don’t, someone else will.’ A subtle incline of his head in Haruchiyo’s direction. It’s his job, he knows, to tell Rindou the things he perhaps doesn’t want to hear but needs to nonetheless. 

Maybe that’s what spurs him on in retrospect. The thought that one day he might be too late, that one day he’ll wake up to see you looking at someone the way you look at him and he might lose you indefinitely.

So here he sits again, his head resting against the edge of the sofa, his hands curling into fists around your hoodie as you kneel between his thighs to press a clean gauze to the slice in his abdomen, hissing through his teeth, lips clamped together to staunch the sharp tang of pain lancing through his body. This is it, he thinks, as he watches your brows knit together, your cheeks puff with concentration, the barely perceptible shake of your head as you click your tongue.

‘Y/N…’ And it’s so quiet, a feather-touch against skin, the brush of hair tickling an ear. 

‘Hm?’ You inspect the wound, turn your head this way and that, oblivious even now to Rindou’s heated stare, his lidded gaze dropping along your cheek, your neck, the collarbones you tease through the neckline of your hoodie.

‘Look at me.’ His voice curls along your skin, flames licking at the nape of your neck as your eyes flit to meet his.

There’s a beat.

Two. 

Three.

And then he is kissing you, fervently, feverishly, his lips warm, salty with the tang of blood from the gash along the bottom, and his tongue is gentle and tentative in your mouth, his hands cupping your face as he pulls you onto his lap. It’s fast, clumsy even, awkward, all teeth and heat and need and promise. You break for air for the smallest fraction of a second, the thin string of saliva breaking as it falls down your chin, before his lips slot against yours, perfectly, synchronically, his nose brushing yours as his hands drop to your hips to glide you against his thigh. 

‘Rin,’ you say against his mouth, his throat pulsing in time with your heaving breaths and he pulls you against him so he can swallow the sigh that drips past parted lips when you feel his slacks tighten underneath you.

‘Y/N.’ He says your name like a prayer, like he worships you. Reverently, timid, testing it out in his mouth, his tongue relishing the taste of it. 'Princess.' And it feels right, it feels good.

He realizes as he kisses you, tastes you, that this is perhaps the moment he falls for you. Hopelessly, irrevocably even. You taste of warmth and tenderness, and nights spent near the heat, springtime. And he tastes of promise and hunger and thirst and you think if you hadn’t kissed him now, you’d have gone sick with the want. It’s dizzying, the pulsing in your veins that has your blood roaring in your ears, the shift of his lilac eyes as he slides the hoodie from you, dropping it in a pool of fabric, and your hands shake as you fumble to undo the belt buckle on his slacks, to drag the shirt from his shoulders and run your tongue along his chest. He groans, his lips sucking a firm and harsh mark between the curve of your neck and your shoulder and you wonder if you have ever heard a sweeter sound, you guarantee that you have not.

Because you are in love. Hopelessly, irrevocably even.

a/n: heyyy! I'm back with a full length fic! This was one of my favourites to write,it felt so self indulgent lol. It's actually a present for my Rin (happy one year loml) but I hope you all like it anyway. I'd love your feedback as usual. I have in fact opened a ko-fi which is here, and I'd appreciate any donation or anything if you liked this <3 but still, thanks for supporting me all this time too.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @islascafe @swqllen @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @oikawascutie @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @tetsutits @burnishedcrown @sweet-seishu @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @mochimiyaas (let me know if you'd like to be added)

[z3llous]

The Enemy of My Enemy is My Lover 5

Tags: @cloudcountry @ashengrottosangel @ghost-mint

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (here)

Twst masterlist

After days of careful planning, much to Floyd’s dismay, and tracking couple’s movements the time for their first move came. Operation Get Shit had begun! It’s was Floyd’s turn to pick the name…

Jade sat quietly behind a bush with a pair of binoculars and watched the two laugh and drink wine in the restaurant across from him as Floyd groaned in boredom beside him. Floyd may not have been pleased to be on the spy team, but at least he was in charge of the distraction if it became necessary to buy time.

---

_ fiddled the two paper clips jammed into the lock carefully as Azul stood anxiously behind them. Azul was surprised _ knew how to pick a lock, but he refused to admit to even himself that he found it rather attractive.

The lock had begun to turn and just like that the door was open. _ calmly stood up, stretched, and slid the deformed paperclips back into their pocket.

“Well done, I hadn’t doubted you for a moment.” Azul said adjusting his tie.

“Sure, I definitely believe that.” _ joked and opened the door.

Once inside they _ began to search for and grab their things, and hand them to Azul so he could take them to the car nearby.

Floorboards creeked underfoot as they moved in the darkness

Sprinkles hadn’t been spotted yet, but it wasn’t surprising since they were known to hide when _ wasn’t around.

Once everything of theirs downstairs had been gathered, Azul decided to speak cat in hopes of drawing Sprinkles out of hiding.

“Your person is here for you!” Azul meowed loudly and waited for a response.

“Up here! I stuck!” A muffled yowl came from upstairs.

He carefully walked up the stairs toward the origin of the sound with _ right behind him. Their breathe tickled the back of his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“Here!” another muffled mew came from the back bedroom.

The room was a mess, clothes strewn across the floor, empty pizza boxes and bottles, the faint stench of sex lingering in the air, and a cloth covering a box for a nightstand.

A soft meow came from the makeshift night stand.

_ lifted the blanket to reveal a metal cage with a shaking Sprinkles inside.

“Parent!” Sprinkles cried upon seeing a safe familiar face once again.

They picked the lock with haste, deeply thankful for learning such a skill.

_ picked up their beloved cat and held them close feeling the soft fur between their fingers.

“Thank! Thank!” Sprinkles meowed as they happily nuzzled into their owner’s neck.

A soft smile spread across Azul’s face as he watched the happy reunion.

“Sprinkles has always had separation anxiety, since they were abandoned by their previous owner. They never liked Cassian, but Cassian always insisted that they would eventualy grow to like him.” _ whispered petting Sprinkles, before turning around to face Azul with a teary eyed smile, moonlight peaking from window highlighted their face. “Thank you. I know you agreed to help for selfish reasons, but that doesn’t matter right now. Thank you, I might’ve never gotten them back without your help.”

They look angelic

A warmth covered his face and filled his chest. Azul looked away and adjusted his glasses. “It was nothing, you’re welcome.” He said with a slight waver as he willed his confidence to return to him.

I refuse to have regrets this time

Azul forced his gaze back to their glowing face and smiled a genuine, albeit flustered, smile.

_’s heart skipped a beat from the rare and beautiful sight.

A beep came from Azul’s pocket, he pulled out his phone.”We need to leave soon, They’re paying for the bill as we speak.” He frowned. A shame the sweet moment came to an end.

“Buy us a few more minutes, to make sure we got everything.” Azul texted back to Jade in the group chat.

That private texting app, had come in quite handy. There wasn’t single messaging app more secure from prying eyes in existence. Once something was deleted from a chat, it was gone for good. He’s was glad he made that deal with Idia last year.

Ball Master: so booooooooooring and grooooooooss watching them make googly eyes at eachother ◔_◔ Mountain Lover: They’re paying the bill. Azul The Manager: Buy us a few more minutes, To make sure we got everything. Ball Master: FINALLY CHAOS TIME!!! Mountain Lover: Indeed.

Azul put his phone away and followed _ to the car.

Mission Get Shit was a success.

Hmmm wonder what Azul could regret?

[nyxe9206]

When you catch him cheating

All character(s) are aged up to be in their 20′s and some scenarios are suggestive so 18+ MDNI. Nameless and ageless blogs will be blocked. I do not own these character(s) and all scenarios are just fiction and for fun. Please do not copy my works or repost without either asking or giving credit.

CW: angst, cheating, piv sex, fem!reader, fighting, non-curse!au

WC: 846

You never thought it would happen, in all the years you spent together this was not how you thought things would go. He told you he was going out with the guys but here he is right in front of you at the party he said he didn’t want to go to. You watch as the girl giggles at him, her hand on his shoulder as he cages her against the wall with one hand smiling. You get closer but before you can confront him he takes her hand leading her up the stairs. You follow them as they go into one of the empty rooms in the frat house and listen to them from behind the closed door.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend, what if she finds out?”

“What girlfriend, all I care about is you pretty girl, she doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Your eyes sting with tears as you hear his words, still you press your ear closer to the door listening to the sounds of their soft breaths and pants. You don’t know how long you stand there torturing yourself listening to their moans and the sound of skin on skin.

“Oh fuck… Toge you’re so big… gonna make me cum~”

“Go ahead… fuck your pussy’s so tight, so much better. Cum on my dick princess gonna feel so fucking good~”

Your mind goes blank, anger and sadness weighing heavy on your tongue as you slowly back away from the door leaning on the opposite wall for support, your heart shattering. You come to your senses when you hear the door open, you look up and see the purple eyes that you fell in love with.

“Y/n…what are you doing here?” He sounds breathless as he speaks to you, the girl coming out from behind him, her smile falling as she realizes what’s going on.

“Yeah, so I’m gonna leave you were a nice lay though.” Her voice breaks your heart even more when you realize she didn’t even really want him.

Toge looks between you both, his mouth falling open as he doesn’t know who to respond to first but ultimately chooses you as the girl leaves.

“I can’t believe you…How could you?” Your tears fall faster as you speak feeling the venom in your words

“Baby, baby no look I-”

You cut him off not wanting to hear his excuses. “Don’t fucking call me that, I heard everything Toge…I mean nothing to you?”

“Baby, o-of course you do..” His eyes are teary as he realizes he was caught, there was nothing he could do or say that would make you feel better. Nothing could take away the feeling of a gapping hole in your chest.

“No I don’t clearly, what the fuck are you even doing here, you said you didn’t even want to come.” Your voice betrays the want to not show him you’re broken, the wavering in your words as you speak is evident.

“I didn’t but the guys-” you cut him off already knowing he’s lying.

“They’re not even here, not a single one of them so why are you!” You raise your voice, your scream is deafening in the quiet of the hallway

Toge looks down like he’s ashamed clenching his fists as he tries to keep calm. “She invited me, Aurelia asked me to come with her and I thought you were going to stay home so I said yes. I didn’t even see the guys tonight.” Your breath gets stolen at his admission, you lean against the wall as you try to take everything in but only one question comes to mind.

“How long?”

“Baby she means nothing t-”

“How long Toge!” at this point you were a wreck, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your cheeks or the way your chest stuttered as you cried.

“Six months…” His voice is low and he can’t seem to look you in the eyes anymore.

“Six fucking months…you cheated on me for six months and now you’re acting like you did nothing wrong!”

“No of course not, baby just listen to me…” You hang your head taking a deep breath trying to calm your anger.

“No, I’m fucking done Toge- we’re done do you hear me? I don’t ever want to see your fucking face!” You storm out of the frat house and get into you car all the while Toge chases after you calling your name.

You drive home slamming your apartment door shut as you angrily take whatever he has there and throw them in a box. You look at all the pictures on your walls of the two of you together and feel disgusted wanting to shatter them on the floor. Everything that you thought you knew shatters inside you, the bed you once shared becoming an eye sore as you move to sleep on the couch. Nothing will ever be the same, you will never be the same and even though it breaks your heart you wish he was there to comfort you all the same.