#he was just a little boy and didn’t understand

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤA GENTLEMANㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Robin Damian Wayne x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : When he have a puppy crush (obsession).

☆⁠ NOTES : Teenagers in love. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Damian had always been certain of one thing: he was superior to everyone around him. But when it came to you, something shifted in him. He didn’t understand it at first—it was something unfamiliar, something that made his heart race in ways that made him deeply uncomfortable. He would never admit it, of course, but there was no denying the way his eyes lingered on you when you weren’t looking.

From the moment he noticed you in class, you were a source of obsession. Not just because you were incredibly intelligent—far more than most people gave you credit for—but because you were different. You weren’t intimidated by him like everyone else. You didn’t flinch when he looked at you with his piercing eyes, and worst of all, you were kind to him. You smiled at him, genuinely, and asked him how his day was when no one else did.

At first, Damian didn't know how to process it. He hated how much he cared about what you thought. He hated how his chest tightened whenever he saw you laughing with friends or when your eyes briefly met his from across the room. He couldn't help but become... protective. Territorial, even.

His obsession grew, but it wasn’t obvious to you. To you, he was just the enigmatic, brooding boy who sat at the back of the class and barely spoke. To everyone else, he was the unsmiling prodigy who made the rest of Gotham's elite children seem inferior. But to him, you were different. You weren't afraid to speak to him, to challenge him, even when you didn't know his full story.

He’d sneak glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, his gaze lingering for just a second too long. When you walked into a room, his eyes would immediately track your every movement. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but every time you laughed—whether it was at something funny or just something absurd—his heart would pound. Every soft word you spoke, every time you brushed your hair behind your ear, or when you studied so intently in class, it drove him wild. He felt... protective. Possessive, even. But mostly, he felt a desperate need to be the one you relied on, the one you turned to.

He never had a normal crush before. His emotions were all twisted up, almost like he was terrified of it, yet drawn to it. His pride kept him from ever admitting how much he cared, but his actions always betrayed him. If anyone made the mistake of speaking to you for too long, or worse, making you laugh too much, they’d feel the weight of his glare. He didn’t trust anyone around you, didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, use you, break you like so many others had tried with him.

If you ever had a problem, Damian would be the first to solve it. He didn’t need to be asked. He noticed the little things about you—the way you tapped your pencil when you were nervous, the way you’d tug at your sleeves when you were stressed. He memorized them all, cataloging each detail like an obsessed detective, all while maintaining that cold, stoic expression. But if you ever needed help, even just to ask for notes from a missed class, his voice would become so soft, so eager to please, that it would catch you off guard.

But he was never obvious. If you ever mentioned something in passing, a book you liked or a subject you were interested in, Damian would get it for you. It wasn’t that he thought you needed him—it was that he needed you to need him. He wanted to be the one you thought of when you needed something, even if he didn’t let you know just how far he would go for you.

He’d never say it out loud, but when you laughed at one of his rare jokes or smiled when he helped you with something, it felt like the whole world was aligned. The idea of you wanting him, of you seeing him as something more than just the brooding, serious boy who sat in the back of class, became his driving force. He’d stalk your social media in the dead of night, not to look for anything inappropriate, but just to see you—see your face, your thoughts, the things you liked.

Sometimes he’d catch himself imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to be the one who could make you smile when no one else could. He’d catch himself thinking about how he would protect you—how, in his mind, no one else was worthy of you. You were his. He’d never let anyone else take you from him.

If you ever caught him staring at you—caught him in one of his moments of weakness—he’d look away, almost defensively, as though nothing had ever happened. But deep down, Damian couldn’t hide the feeling that grew every time you were around. A feeling that, for the first time, made him question what it meant to be truly vulnerable.

You were his weakness. But that was something he could never let anyone see.

As time passed, Damian’s obsession with you only deepened, but so did his longing for your attention. His pride and sense of superiority might’ve prevented him from being straightforward, but that didn’t stop him from showing his affection in subtle ways. Every once in a while, when you weren’t looking, he’d steal a quick glance at you, his eyes softening, as if savoring the moments when you were close.

It was the small things that made his heart race—like when you’d accidentally brush his hand as you passed him a pencil or when you’d ask him for help on a particularly difficult assignment. The way your voice sounded when you said his name, the way your eyes sparkled when you were excited about something—Damian didn’t even realize how much it was affecting him until it was too late.

One day, during lunch, you walked up to him at his usual spot by the wall, the one he always sat at, trying to be as unnoticed as possible. “Hey, Damian,” you said, a little shy, “can I borrow your notes from last week’s class?”

Damian looked up at you, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. The way your hair fell over your shoulder, the way your eyes sparkled under the soft glow of the cafeteria lights—it was almost too much for him to handle. He had to force himself not to let his emotions show.

Without a word, he handed you his notebook, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second. He didn’t pull away, though—he lingered, just a little longer than necessary. His eyes met yours, and for the first time in ages, a flicker of warmth passed across his usual cold, calculating gaze. He couldn’t help the small, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You… You’re welcome,” he muttered, trying to sound aloof. But there was an underlying softness in his tone, something you hadn’t heard before. It was the way he said it—like he was pleased to help you, like you mattered to him more than anyone else in that moment.

You smiled at him, making his heart stutter in his chest. It wasn’t a big smile, just a small, genuine curve of your lips, but to Damian, it was everything. It felt like the world had shifted into place.

“Thanks, Damian. You’re a lifesaver,” you said, eyes lighting up with appreciation.

His chest tightened. “It’s nothing,” he replied quickly, not wanting to sound too eager, but his voice faltered just a bit.

You turned to leave, and as you walked away, you glanced back once, catching his eyes before he quickly looked away, face flushed. The moment he was sure you couldn’t see, he exhaled, the softest, happiest sigh escaping his lips. You’d never know it, but he had a soft spot for you—a part of him that didn’t want to be so cold and distant. A part of him that wanted to just be… normal for once.

From then on, he found himself watching you more than he should. Sometimes, he’d catch you looking at him, and he’d quickly avert his eyes, pretending like he hadn’t been staring. His heart would beat faster in his chest, and it almost made him angry that you could have this effect on him. But then, just as quickly, he’d find himself grinning, not able to help it. It was you—you made him feel things he hadn’t felt before.

It became a little routine: he’d see you in the halls, and sometimes, if you needed help with something, he’d find a way to be there. He’d stand a little too close to you when you talked, but it was never in a way that made you uncomfortable—it was more like he just wanted to be near you. He never told you why, of course.

One afternoon, while you were studying in the library, he walked in, glancing around until he spotted you, sitting by the window, scribbling away in your notebook. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you like that—so focused, so determined. You looked so… cute.

He hesitated for a second before walking up to you, his usual confident stride faltering just slightly. “Do you need any help?” he asked, trying to sound casual, though the nervous energy was palpable in his voice.

You looked up, surprised to see him standing there. “Oh, Damian! Um… yeah, I could use some help with this math problem,” you said, motioning to the page in front of you.

Damian sat down next to you, closer than necessary. His heart pounded as he explained the problem to you, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he pointed to different equations. He tried not to notice how his skin tingled each time it happened, or how every time you smiled and thanked him, it felt like the entire world brightened. He wasn’t used to feeling this way, this vulnerable, but somehow, he didn’t mind it when it was you.

“Got it?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual as he watched you carefully.

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, I think I do. You make it sound so easy.”

Damian’s eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to smile back at you—genuinely, without any pretenses. It was a rare moment for him, but when it came to you, he didn’t feel the need to hide everything.

“Good. I’m glad,” he said, his voice almost tender.

You packed up your things, still smiling. As you stood, you gave him one last look, your eyes meeting his, and for a second, Damian felt like the entire world had come to a stop. There was something in your gaze—something that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to hide how he felt.

“Thanks again, Damian,” you said as you turned to leave, a soft wave following behind you.

And as you walked away, Damian stood there, watching you, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips. Maybe one day he’d tell you how he felt, but for now, he was content with these little moments. He was content with the idea that, for once in his life, someone saw him for who he truly was—not the perfect heir, not the deadly assassin, but the boy who was hopelessly in love with you.

For weeks, Damian wrestled with the idea of asking you out. It wasn’t like he was afraid of rejection—he was Damian Wayne. Fear was beneath him. No, this was different. This was you. The thought of putting his feelings into words, of making himself vulnerable to you, made his stomach twist in ways he didn’t like to acknowledge.

But at the same time… the thought of anyone else asking you out, of anyone else standing beside you, laughing with you, touching you—it was unbearable. The mere idea of it set his blood on fire. He had to make a move. You were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

So, like everything else in his life, Damian devised a plan. It had to be perfect. He would not fail.

The first thing he did was eliminate all competition. Subtly, of course. Any boy who looked at you for too long? Suddenly, they found themselves tripping over conveniently placed obstacles. Anyone who flirted with you? They’d mysteriously lose their confidence after a single, bone-chilling glare from Damian. He made sure that by the time he approached you, no one else would dare think they had a chance.

Next, he had to find the right moment. Timing was everything. He refused to make a fool of himself by asking you out in a setting that wasn’t optimal. He studied your habits—when you were most relaxed, most receptive. He knew you liked to sit by the windows in the library during study hall. You liked the way the sunlight hit the pages of your books. That would be the perfect place.

The day of, he was completely composed—or at least, that’s what he told himself. He approached your table with his usual confident stride, pulling out the chair across from you without asking, as he often did.

You glanced up, surprised but not unwelcome to his presence. “Oh, hey, Damian.” You smiled at him, and his heart stuttered.

“Hello,” he replied, voice smooth, but slightly more clipped than usual. He was trying to keep his emotions in check. “I require your time this Saturday.”

You blinked. “Uh, what?”

Damian inhaled slowly. He could feel heat rising to his ears. His grip tightened on the book he brought, knuckles white. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had rehearsed this in his head a hundred times, but now, sitting in front of you, he felt like an idiot.

He quickly corrected himself. “What I mean is… I have taken the liberty of arranging a date for us this Saturday. I will pick you up at noon. Wear something suitable for the occasion.”

There. Perfect. No room for rejection. No awkward stammering. Tt. Why was he nervous in the first place?

You blinked again, then tilted your head, processing his words. “A date?”

“Yes,” Damian confirmed, keeping his tone even, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. Because to him, it was.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but then—then you smiled. And not just any smile. It was soft, warm, genuine. And it was for him.

“You’re asking me out on a date?” you clarified, amusement lacing your tone.

He bristled slightly at your wording. “Obviously.”

You chuckled, and for a moment, he thought his heart might actually explode. He had never wanted anything more than to be the reason you smiled like that every day.

“Well,” you said, propping your chin on your hand, watching him with something unreadable in your eyes, “you sure don’t waste time with subtlety, huh?”

“Subtlety is for those who lack certainty,” Damian replied smoothly, lifting his chin. “And I am certain.”

Your cheeks warmed, and that small reaction sent a rush of satisfaction through him. “Alright, Damian,” you finally said, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

For the first time in his life, Damian stopped thinking. He just… felt. A warmth spread through his chest, foreign yet addicting. He nodded once, as if sealing an unspoken pact.

“Good,” he said, voice steady, though his pulse was anything but. “I will text you the details.”

Then, without another word, he stood up and left. Just like that. Because if he stayed a second longer, he knew he would either start grinning like a fool or do something completely irrational, like kiss you right there in the middle of the library.

As soon as he rounded the corner, out of your sight, Damian exhaled, pressing a hand over his chest. His heart was hammering. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

But he didn’t care. Because you said yes.

And he will make sure it was a date you’d never forget.

The day of the date arrived. Damian had meticulously planned every detail, not leaving anything to chance. No, this wouldn’t be a “let’s grab coffee and see where things go” type of outing. This was his date with you.

He arrived at your house right on time. He didn’t need to check his watch—his internal sense of timing was precise, down to the minute. He knocked firmly on your door, his hand steady, even though he had spent the last few hours agonizing over the finer points of the evening in his mind. When you opened the door, his breath caught for a fraction of a second.

You stood there in a simple, yet elegant dress that was both understated and beautiful—just like you. The soft fabric clung to your figure just enough to highlight your natural grace, and the way your hair framed your face made his pulse quicken.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady, though his gaze softened as he took in your appearance.

You smiled, your eyes bright, and for a moment, he thought his heart might beat out of his chest. "I’m ready."

As you stepped out of the door and joined him, Damian offered his arm with a small, confident smile that was so different from his usual intense expression. He had plans for this evening, and he was determined to follow them through.

The car ride was smooth, quiet, but not uncomfortable. He drove with precision, each movement calculated and controlled, but there was something different in the air tonight. Something lighter. Every time he glanced over at you, you caught his eye, and he had to resist the urge to smile. It felt almost surreal—this quiet, sweet moment between the two of you. You’d spent time together before, but never like this.

You asked him where you were going, but he only gave you a cryptic smile. “You’ll see,” was all he said. You didn’t push him, curious to see where he had decided to take you.

Eventually, he pulled up to a small, secluded restaurant, one of Gotham’s more refined and hidden gems. It was quaint but elegant, with outdoor seating overlooking a picturesque garden. The soft light of lanterns danced around the patio, giving the place a warm, intimate atmosphere.

He opened the door for you as you stepped out, and offered his hand to you. You took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through your skin. There was a kind of unspoken respect in the way he treated you. It wasn’t rushed or impatient—just an easy calmness that made you feel like you were the only one in the world to him.

Damian led you to your table, which was set for two, tucked away in a private corner, draped with ivy and soft fairy lights. It was the kind of place where the world around you seemed to fade away. As you sat down, he carefully pulled out your chair, ensuring you were comfortable, before taking his own seat across from you.

There was something so different about Damian tonight—something that made you realize, in that moment, just how special this date really was. He wasn’t like the other boys your age, with their offhand jokes or their self-absorbed chatter. No, Damian Wayne was something entirely different. He had this quiet intensity, but underneath that, a care that he wasn’t always quick to show.

The waiter came and Damian ordered for both of you with an air of confidence, speaking in fluent French, making you chuckle softly at how effortlessly he handled everything. But what made you laugh more was the glint of satisfaction in his eyes when he said, “The wine selection here is impeccable. I trust you’ll enjoy it.” It was like he was proud to share his tastes with you.

As you ate, the conversation flowed naturally. Damian asked about your interests, your thoughts on various books you had been reading, and he listened so intently, as though every word you spoke was a treasure to him. It wasn’t just idle talk—there was genuine curiosity in his voice. And when he did speak, it was always with purpose, never just to fill the silence.

You were beginning to see another side of him. A side that was almost... gentle.

You told him about your love for horses and how you dreamed of riding across the open fields someday. Damian’s eyes softened, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “I can take you to the stables at Wayne Manor sometime,” he said with an easy confidence. “There’s a ranch not far from the estate. You’d like it.”

You blinked, a little surprised. “You have horses?”

“Yes. I do,” he replied, his smile more sincere now, like the idea of sharing something personal with you had softened him further. “Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two. I’ve never been particularly good at it.”

That was the thing about Damian. He wasn’t afraid to show his flaws when it came to you. In fact, he seemed to crave your approval, though he’d never openly admit it. But it wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t needy. It was simply him, wanting you to know who he really was.

As the evening wore on, the conversation became more relaxed. You found yourself laughing more freely, your initial nerves completely gone, replaced by an easy comfort that felt like you had known him forever. Damian was still Damian—intense, sharp, but there was a tenderness to him tonight that made him seem... normal. Human. Not just the son of Bruce Wayne, not just the little assassin.

Finally, after dessert, the night began to wind down. Damian stood and offered his hand once more. You placed your hand in his, and together, you walked out into the garden. The soft hum of the night air and the occasional chirp of a cricket filled the silence between you.

As you approached his car, Damian paused. He turned to face you, and for the first time that evening, his expression was serious—not cold, but thoughtful, as if he were gathering his thoughts for something important.

“You’re...” He cleared his throat, looking down at his shoes for just a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “I have enjoyed tonight... more than I anticipated.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. “More than you anticipated? So you did expect it to be bad?”

He stiffened for a second, realizing the unintended implication. “No. That is not what I meant.” He hesitated, looking at you for a long, quiet moment. Then, in a voice quieter than before, almost soft, he added, “You’re... different. In a way I didn’t expect.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his words settle in the air. “Damian…” you started, but before you could finish, he reached out and gently took your hand in his.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a way that felt intimate, but not in a rushed or inappropriate way—more like he was savoring the moment.

“I would like to do this again,” he said, his voice earnest, but not without the usual confidence. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And with that, he took your hand and, with a deep breath, lowered his head and kissed the back of it. The touch of his lips was soft, respectful—gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into the background.

When he pulled back, his gaze remained locked with yours, almost searching, as if to make sure you understood just how much that small gesture meant to him.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said quietly, straightening up and offering his arm again, as if nothing had changed—except, of course, that now you both knew something had. Something deeper than either of you had expected when you started this evening.

You smiled, heart fluttering in your chest as you took his arm. “I’d like that.”

From the moment you officially became Damian’s girlfriend, your life changed—not in the dramatic way people might expect when dating the son of Bruce Wayne, but in the way that everything suddenly felt different. Like the world had shifted slightly, aligning perfectly in a way it hadn’t before.

Damian wasn’t like other boys your age. He didn’t do the whole awkward teenage romance thing. He wasn’t overly flirty, nor did he stumble through his words or second-guess himself. If he wanted to hold your hand, he did. If he wanted to tell you he liked the way you looked in a certain outfit, he said it, blunt and without hesitation.

His affection wasn’t loud or showy, but it was constant—always there, woven into everything he did.

Damian is, above all else, a gentleman. He treats you with the kind of respect that most guys your age wouldn’t even think about. Holding doors open for you? Always. Walking on the side of the street closest to traffic to “protect” you? A given.

If you ever carried anything heavier than a book, it was suddenly his burden. He didn’t even ask—he just took it from you with a simple, “Tt. You shouldn’t be straining yourself.”

He makes sure you never have to worry about anything. If you so much as mention feeling cold? His jacket is around your shoulders before you can finish your sentence. If you’re tired? He’s finding the closest place for you to sit, even if it means him physically leading you there by the small of your back.

But most of all, he listens. He pays attention in a way no one else does. If you casually mention something you like—your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been dying to read, a little café you want to try—Damian remembers. And soon enough, you’ll find a bouquet of those flowers waiting in your locker, that book sitting on your desk, or him showing up outside your house on a Saturday morning, saying, “Get in. We’re going to that café you won’t stop talking about.”

Because to Damian, caring means action.

Damian isn’t very verbal with his affection at first. He won’t say sweet, flowery words or write you poetry (even though you swear he has the soul of an old poet somewhere deep inside him). Instead, he shows his love through actions.

He’s always near you. Always. If you’re walking through the halls at school, his hand is resting against your lower back, gently guiding you. If you’re studying together, his knee is touching yours beneath the table. If you’re out somewhere, he positions himself slightly in front of you, instinctively shielding you from the crowd.

And while he doesn’t do PDA in public (besides holding your hand or the occasional brush of his fingers along your arm), when you’re alone? That’s when he lets his guard down.

Soft touches. He’s always touching you in some way—running his fingers over the back of your hand, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, resting a hand on your knee when you sit next to him.

Forehead touches. Whenever he’s feeling particularly soft (which he would never admit out loud), he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. It’s a silent way of saying I’m here. You’re mine. We belong to each other.

Hand kisses. He does this a lot. If you ever feel sad? He takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and simply says, “You have me.” And that’s enough.

Damian is not someone who tolerates threats to what’s his.

He’s not loud about it, not the type to start fights over jealousy, but his presence alone is enough to keep people in check. If another guy even thinks about flirting with you, Damian is already there, standing a little too close, his green eyes sharp and possessive as he stares the poor guy down.

His hand will tighten on your waist, and his voice will drop an octave as he says something like, “I assume you have nothing important to say. If so, leave.”

And just like that, the threat is gone.

If you ever tease him about being jealous, he just crosses his arms and scoffs, Tt. “I am simply ensuring that no one wastes your time with their nonsense.”

But the way his hand subtly tightens around yours says otherwise.

At first, Damian struggles with vulnerability. He’s used to being the strong one, the one who handles everything without needing help. But with you? You see past that.

There are nights when he sneaks into your room through your window, not as Robin, but just as Damian. Those are the moments when he talks to you about things he’d never say to anyone else.

About his mother. About his father. About the weight of his family name and how, sometimes, he feels like he has to be perfect to live up to it.

And you listen. You always listen. You don’t try to fix him, don’t tell him that he’s wrong for feeling this way. You just hold his hand, stroke his hair, and whisper, “You’re already enough, Damian.”

And those words stay with him longer than he’ll ever admit.

Bruce: At first? He’s skeptical. Protective. But when he sees how much Damian genuinely cares for you—how you make him softer, more grounded—Bruce actually starts to approve.

“You keep him... balanced,” Bruce admits to you one evening. “That’s not an easy thing to do.”

(Which, coming from Bruce Wayne, is probably the highest compliment you’ll ever receive.)

Dick: “Oh my god. Damian has a girlfriend.” He’s so smug about it. Constantly teasing Damian, constantly referring to you as his soft spot.

He also makes sure you know that if Damian ever hurts you (which he won’t), you can definitely call Dick to handle it.

Alfred: Alfred adores you. Treats you like family from the moment he realizes you make Damian happy. Always makes extra tea and snacks whenever you visit Wayne Manor.

“You keep Master Damian in check, Miss. I quite appreciate it.”

Dating Damian isn’t easy. He’s intense, overprotective, sometimes way too serious for his age. But at the same time?

He loves deeply.

Once you’re his, you’re his forever. There’s no in-between, no uncertainty. Damian loves you with the same ferocity that he does everything else in his life.

And one day? When he’s older, stronger, even more sure of himself—he won’t hesitate to tell you:

“You are mine. And I am yours. Always.”

And that is what loving Damian is like.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[vmlnrzmp4]

itoshi sae — how broken swings bring us back together.

the two swings which would function properly at the playground were now down to one.

sae met you by the swing. all little and innocent sitting there, unable to sway by yourself, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, when he and his little brother approach.

two little boys walked to you, the older one holding a football in his one arm, the other one holding his shy younger brother's hand.

sae's expressions stay mature as he asks you to move as his younger brother wishes to swing. understanding the situation, you smiled warmly and got down from the swing, stepping aside to let the younger boy take your place.

you looked at the football curiously, making sae smirk as he says that he's going to be the best stricker in the world.

"and me after niichan!" the younger boy chimed.

"rin," sae calls sternly, "don't butt in when elders are talking."

"rin," you parrot his name, "y/n," you introduce yourself, "and...?" you looked at sae with curious doe eyes, making a tint of pink appear on his face as he looks away.

"and sae."

years pass like the wind. one day, you're young and curious. the other, you are a beautiful 11 year old, receiving many chocolates at valentines day, all from one boy who sadly didn't happen to be sae.

the boy proposed you on the spot. right there in the school hallway, catching you off guard. but you politely told the boy you needed two days to think it over, but he remained persistent.

that's when sae intervened, with a firm tone, he told the boy to stop being so pushy and that you had already said no. the boy corrected sae, saying that you hadn’t officially rejected him yet. and that you had yet to figure it out in two days.

grumbling, sae took your hand and walked you away with him.

the two of you found yourselves back at the park. you were sitting on the swing, and sae stood behind you, giving you gentle pushes that made you sway back and forth.

sae broke the silence, asking if you were really going to say yes to the boy who had proposed to you. you replied that you might, since he had given you so many chocolates.

sae’s stopped pushing, bringing the swing to a halt. you turned to him, asking him what's wrong.

“don’t go out with him,” he says.

“why not?”

sae simply replied that even he could buy you chocolates if you wanted.

“so please, let me be your boyfriend.”

time passed. you and sae were now 13. and as sad as the moment was of sae's departure, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, catching you off guard. it was the most intimate he has been after holding hands. and sae too, had a blush on his face with a boyish smile as he waves everyone who accompanied him goodbye.

it was a new chapter in both of your lives.

and oh how it ended...

years later, the two of you found yourselves facing each other, standing a few feet apart. the cold wind blew as it started snowing.

“we should stop seeing each other,” sae said nonchalantly yet firmly.

and you simply smiled, understanding his words. rin had already called you and told you about what had happened, so you didn’t question sae. you bid each other a goodbye, accepting and thinking that this really is the end.

but when now both you and sae were 25, you found yourself by the swings again at night, sitting on it just as you had done years before. but both broken this time. and there he stood in front of you, his expressions the same as when he had left. but it hinted something softer.

"hey," after a long time, it was him who broke the silence first.

"hey," you parrot, your voice almost a whisper.

an awkward pause follows, and sae scratches the back of his neck.

you shake your head, a small smile on your lips, "how have you been?"

sae looks at you, offering a nod, "i'm good...how about you?"

"i'm good too," you say, your smile widening despite what lingered beneath.

"stop it," sae says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

"stop...what?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"stop smiling. i know it's not a real one," he says, frustrated.

you look down for a moment. and when you look back up, his heart breaks. your once curious innocent eyes were now teary. all because of him, "do you want me to cry then?"

"yes. cry. be sad," sae says, stepping closer. he gently cups your face with one hand, brushing away the tear with his thumb.

you place your hand over sae's, "why?" you ask softly. why. why did it had to be this way?

sae's leans closer to you, "i don't know." he wraps his arms around you, "forgive me," whispers an apology.

you rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat that spoke sincerity, hinting his words to be genuine.

the warmth of his hug and the softness of his voice spoke enough as you nod, and you could only whisper back, "i forgive you."

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

[soleilapproves]

I’m thinking about single dad!toji and a second grade teacher at Megumi’s school:

You’re not Megumi Fushiguro’s teacher per se, just someone who is concerned about him.

Everyone in the school knows about him—the boy was too smart for his own good, showing keen interest in algebra and genetics at the not-so-ripe age of seven. Though he was also infamous for his sarcastic attitude.

Alas, despite his smarts, the government required him to sit through till at least fourth grade so he could skip straight up to the sixth—though even that indicated an underestimation of his mathematical and scientific prowess.

Nobody knows where he gets it from. As far as the school administration knows, the boy lives with his uncle (whose attitude was nothing like his nephew’s.)

The last they’d heard about his father was when Megumi first joined the school. Even then, the only proof they had of his existence was a piece of paper saying that his uncle was also to be considered a guardian. Other than that, the man was a phantom.

That was until Megumi was halfway through second grade. Something had changed in his attitude.

He was ruder than usual: telling his classmates that Santa Claus didn’t exist, ate all the orange flavored candies in the class candy bowl, and superglued his friend’s building blocks so they couldn’t come apart.

His teacher, Nanami, had little to no tolerance for such behavior so he had given up, only sending him to the library for a day’s worth of suspension.

But you knew something was going on. So you held him back after school and had a conversation with him. The boy told you that he had moved in with his father after years of not seeing him and was having a hard time understanding why everything changed.

You knew that you needed to talk to his father to make him realize about his son’s true nature and maybe even help him send his son to a better school where he can find peers similar to him.

So you set up a meeting with him.

Only you never expected Megumi’s father to arrive to the school on a motorbike.

And not just that—the man was tatted from top to bottom like a gangster. Now you understand why Megumi was having trouble adjusting.

—

New serie—who said that? 👁️👁️

[neeeooon]

Hey Elle!!! 😚🫶May I request bllk boys (Nagi, Rin, Sae, Bachira, Shidou) with s/o who's rlly into anime, cosplay, spends all their money on figurines, merch etc and makes them go to conventions with them!!! 🤸🏼‍♀️ love your writing!

yesssss LMAO okay i had fun w thiss thank you sm for the request!!! 💛💛

when you’re an anime fan ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

nagi seishiro

-> he doesn’t like the fact that he has to share you with your dozens and dozens of anime plushies

-> “nagi! you’re crushing mr. sakamoto!!” “what’s that?” “?! please move so he can breathe :)” he decides not to fight you on this. “.. okay.”

-> though nagi doesn’t quite understand your obsession with spending money on little figures and plushies of cartoon characters, he works around it. it’s easier to spend a little time looking for a clear spot than upset you after moving something he wasn’t supposed to

-> until he comes over one day to find a large snorlax plush in his usually empty spot on your bed

-> “.. is this your way of telling me to move?” “what? no, it’s for you! your room is like a prison cell, babe. you need something to make it more personal. plus, he looks just like you!”

-> nagi doesn’t see it, but he sleeps with that damn snorlax plush every night he spends away from you <3

itoshi rin

-> “y/n? put the phone down…” “just one click, rin. one click and it’s all mine.” “y/n, so you really need twenty-six figures of the same four characters..?” “yes.” “really?” “… maybe?”

-> he manages to convince you to give him the phone so you don’t spend your entire paycheck on anime merchandise

-> he’ll stay up late watching the shows with you, and he actually follows along with and likes quite a bit of them. not enough to blow his entire paycheck, but enough

-> “i think we should be meruem and komugi from hxh for halloween.” “… but don’t they d—“ “DONT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

-> once you promise to stop crippling your bank account, he agrees to dress up with you <3

itoshi sae

-> bro is not impressed

-> he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself as you drag him around the merch store, grumbling about how ugly and expensive everything is

-> you ignore him and fill your little basket with mangas and posters for your room, but when it comes down to it, sae hands over his card at checkout before you have the chance

-> “?? i thought you said everything here is ugly and expensive?” “oh, it is. i don’t want you spending your money on ugly things, y/n.” you smile at his excuse and kiss his cheek

-> he’s not ecstatic at the cost of everything, but sae doesn’t complain about it to you, either. he even helps you hand your posters at home (those, he does insult)

-> “why does that guy have such big ears?” “be nice to geto!! those are his earrings.” “he looks like a weirdo.” “leave him be 😭”

bachira meguru

-> you better believe he’s feeding your addiction

-> “ooh, y/n, look at this one!! do you have this one?” “i’ve been looking everywhere for that character! how did you find it?” “my monster told me to check the back shelf..”

-> keeps a full, detailed list of every anime you mention starting or liking so he can surprise you with merch

-> “y/n, look! i made a hakura sakura keychain for you!!” “you made it?! i love it!! but what’s the occasion..?” “i just felt like making something for you ☺️” you may have teared up a bit

shidou ryusei

-> you were planning to cosplay one of your favorite anime characters, and the costume was going on sale at a convention. thankfully, shidou didn’t fight when you asked him to join you

-> “so, we’re gonna stand in this line for how long again?” “depends on how quickly they wave us through. could be a few hours.” “… let’s fucking do this.”

-> shidou has to body a few people, and you do get escorted out by security, but you get the costume! so you consider the trip a win

-> “you didn’t have to punch that guy for me,” you hum as you dab at your boyfriend’s scabbing knuckles. “he was going to push you out of the way. you wanted it more than he did, and he shouldn’t put hands on someone for a dress.” “you did, though..” “for you. not the costume… it is a cool costume, though.” “i know, right?!”

-> you post photos and videos of yourself all dressed up online, making sure to tag shidou for helping you complete your look <3

[jjsloverre]

blurb of babydaddy!jj and pouge!reader taking a mental day together

in which… babydaddy!jj takes pouge!reader for a mental walk to talk about the pregnancy

contains… pure fluff, a little cliffhangerrrrrr, foreshadowing (not proofread)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“cmon mama to be! we don’t got all day!” jj yelled for you.

you were getting ready for something. you didn’t even know since jj wouldn’t spill anything about. “coming!” you screamed back. you walked down the stairs and straight into his arms. “hey pretty mama, ready for this walk?” your eyes shot up at him. “walk? why are we going on a walk?”

“for your mental health and just to talk you know? and then i got some pizza in the lil square ways you like em. now cmon and let’s go, we’re walking for an hour!” he exclaimed. “okay baby.” you smile.

as you and jj are walking, your minds go to the topic of your pregnancy. “what do you want our little baby to be?” jj asked you, thinking hard about the question, you find your answer. “i want a girl, what do you want?”

“i want twins honestly, one boy one girl. can’t i just nut inside you and we have twins?” jj asked while he intertwined your fingers together.

“no smart guy that isn’t how that works.” you smile up at his pretty blue eyes. “well how does it work? how can i get you to have twins?”

“um? genetics?”

“real funny ma.”

“i really hope our baby has your eyes, they’re the prettiest color ever.” he smiles hard, his beautiful smile coming out. “i hope our baby has your beauty and brains. cause i don’t have brains for shit.”

“what else do you wanna talk about baby?” you brought your hands up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, (and also biting him per usual.)

“ready for the ultrasound?” jj asked. “really really ready!” you exclaimed. after just 30 minutes, you begged jj to take you guys back to the house, so you could eat the pizza he talked about.

★

“like the pizza?” jj asked. “course i do! it’s really really good, oh and jayj?” you look up at his pretty blue eyes. “what’s up?”

“do you regret this? like getting me pregnant? what if you have other baby mamas?” jj looked at you pretty confused. he didn’t understand where this concern was coming from. but then again, he realized you were pregnant, and probably had millions of questions about his past hookups. “i don’t fuck girls raw, i use protection. and i only didn’t do it with you cause you were my close friend and i trusted you to… i guess fuck raw? i honestly didn’t mean to get you pregnant, but to answer your question… no i don’t regret it. i’ve always wanted kids! didn’t think it would be this early but if it’s with you? wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

“really?” you whispered.

“really.”

“can we… go to the mall for some stuff? and then a spa?” you cuddled into his arms while he rubbed your growing belly. “hell yeah we can! we can do whatever you want.”

“yay thank you!”

“no problem baby. hey… why don’t you get some rest? got a big day tomorrow don’t we?”

“yeah we do… thank you for this mental day and the walk, i didn’t realize how much it would help me, but it helped so much.” you whispered to jj, falling asleep in his arms.

★

as you went to sleep, jj had a plan that would change everything. he got on the phone with kiara.

“look… we don’t talk but i need a favor, don’t flirt with me either. and i mean it, i need to go ring shopping for y/n, i’m asking you for help since you’re her best friend, differences aside, do this for her and leave my drama out of it.”

“fine…” kie whispered back through the phone. “what time asshole.” jj rolled his eyes. “lose the attitude, the fuck you mad for? just because i rejected you to be with the mother of MY child? that doesn’t matter no more, but anyway… friday at noon while she’s at lunch with her parents. thanks kie.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @bee-43 @anacamofficial @superlegend216 @eddxemxnson @sophand4n4 @ethanthequeefqueen @aaliyahsturniolo @always-reading @maybankslover @slut4rafecameronn @leaseyes @sttaejoon-blog @glitterybombshell @idontknowwhyimhere33 @moonywhisp3rs @imsiriuslyreal @sturnioloenthousiast @coalicionees

a/n- a little short but ty for 500 followers! and my bday in 20 days? we bouta t up👅👅 anyway! enjoy this foreshadowing 😉

more babydaddy!jj x pouge!reader here

[lucysarah-c]

How do you think Levi will react when his partner gets jealous with his past flings? Like they know that it means nothing and he was just a playboy back then and he is being serious with them but who isnt get jealous at the thought of other women had him before them

Hi! How are you?

Funny enough, this actually happened in one of my fics (Holy Ground, ch. 18) haha. Believe it or not, I think Levi is someone who doesn’t handle jealousy scenes very well. Some couples find it—if it’s not actually toxic and just an occasional thing—almost funny, even endearing. But Levi? He doesn’t find them endearing at all haha. I can just picture him going, "Me? For real? You’re making a jealousy scene over me? I barely tolerate people, I’m grumpy, blunt, and I talk to almost no one on a daily basis. And you’re doubting me?" Almost like saying, "I’d get it if I were someone more outgoing or charming—like Eyebrows, who smiles at every stranger—but me?"

If the jealousy is about something he did before they were even together, oh boy hahaha. At first, he wouldn’t even take it seriously, but once he realizes she actually means it? Levi would be like, "You’ve gotta be kidding me." I think I’ve mentioned this before, but Levi is not only extremely secretive about his past—he’s also deeply mistrustful about it. If he opens up about his past or past relationships, it’s because he’s trying to share a piece of himself. But at the same time, Levi knows he did a lot of shit as a young man haha. Still, in his mind, it’s his shit. His mistakes. His past. I feel like he has this mentality of, "I did what I had to do in the shitty situation I was in. And despite all that, I turned out… somehow decent." So if someone tries to use his past against him—either to lecture him or to get jealous over it—not only are they shutting down any chance of him opening up again, but he’s not going to take it nicely. I can definitely see him getting defensive, like:

"I didn’t have parents to tell me what was good for me or to lecture me. Don’t try to take on that role now, because I don’t need it—and it’s not your damn place."

At first, he might brush it off as a joke. Like, "Are you serious? Don’t be stupid. Who cares about that? You have me now—isn’t that what matters? I was with them when I didn’t even know how to clean my ass properly. I’m with you now, as an adult." Maybe he’d even play along a little, pulling her back to him, getting that sassy edge in his tone—"Didn’t you love all the things I know how to do thanks to them? You sure seemed grateful last night." But if he realizes she’s genuinely upset? That’s when he might actually get mad lol.

Of course, he understands that jealousy isn’t something a person can just turn off. He’d probably try to talk it out because, in his mind, the real issue here isn’t the past—it’s trust. "She doesn’t trust me." And that’s the real problem, right? But at the same time, he’s not going to tolerate it if it becomes a habit. Like, Levi can be controlling, but don’t try to control him haha. I have this feeling that when Levi enters a relationship—especially as a Captain—it’s because he’s looking for some kind of happiness, some calm in the chaos of his life. He doesn’t want it to turn into a constant argument over who he’s been with or who he talked to.

I think that’s everything! <3 Hope you like it!

[persicipen]

𑑛 “GOODBYE FLOWERS” ﾉ PHAINON. HONKAI STAR RAIL

gn reader ﾉ words 0.8k ✘ spoilerless but vaguely set back in 3.0 before he goes to castrum kremnos. saying goodbye when you send your boy to save the world. but don’t worry, he will come back :3 ✘ BITTERSWEET FLUFF ﾉ GENERAL CONTENT!

Who stands before you is none other than Phainon of Aedes Elysiae himself. Chest proudly wide and out with the golden stars on his vest gleaming with each breath he makes; moonlight hair ruffled by the wind and his frivolous trotting through the streets with the intent to find you as soon as possible. He gives you a flower blue as his own eyes. It’s beautiful, no doubts about it. Must’ve been growing on the slopes with waterfalls behind the city where the climate is the gentlest, most loved by all plants and animals alike.

“Romantic.” You muse, rubbing the velvety soft petals between your fingers. “Maybe you should ask Lady Aglaea to hand you the Coreflame of Romance?”

“Don’t joke about it, Lady Aglaea is not someone to be laughed at.” He scolds you, voice gentle like Phagousa’s breeze.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that… It’s just that… if you weren’t destined to bear the fate of this world… perhaps then I wouldn’t have to worry about saying goodbye to you on such a beautiful day.” Your voice breaks with the first tear that dews your lashes.

The day is beautiful, more than ever. Kephale’s gentle sun shines on the city, and you can believe there is already a demigod standing in front of you, even though you know that he is still awaiting his chance to conquer the Coreflame. He seems unaffected by this anymore, not as much as with your saddening reaction.

“It’s okay.” He murmurs and takes your hand in his, caressing gently with his thumbs. The smile he gives you is loving, yet you see it wavering at the corners of his lips. “I’m going to miss you as well, more than you can ever understand…”

“Don’t say it like you’re going away for long. It’s just one mission, yes?”

“Heh, I am grateful that you think of me so highly. Battling a corrupted god is but a detour on our journey. Soon, we’ll stand together again under the sunlight shining from above.” His other hand rests against the nape of your neck as he presses his forehead against yours. “Don’t be sad. Whatever comes along, remember that I will always find you. I will always come back to you.”

Your shoulders slump a little with those words. If only you could have seen each other as much as you wanted to. In times when there is a fleeting peace, all you crave is a battle; an excuse to make Phainon stay beside you, as he has done many times before. Whenever things turned dangerous, Phainon was there to protect you. It is not you wishing for more pain or calamity — people have suffered enough because of the black tide — but that infantile part of you didn’t want to see him venture out into the fog of solemn war and leave you unattended. What purpose is there in the sun and ripe fruits if there’s no one to share them with you?

“I will keep watching this flower… Believing it’s your eyes looking back at me.” You tell him as you wrap your one arm around his waist, pulling him closer into a hug, which he returns without any hesitation.

“Then I shall return to you with a new flower every time, and I won’t stop until you’re drowning in a sea of them.” He laughs, and you feel the vibrations from his chest.

“You’re such an idiot… There is only one place where the flowers make a sea.”

The other side of the warm west wind, the one destination everyone will eventually reach once their life comes to an end.

“I’m not going there without you.”

You don’t ponder that. Instead, you let him hold you close as you try to memorise everything about him. Every curve in his muscular body, and how perfectly you mold together. The warmth of his embrace and how it makes you never want to let go, the way his heart beats against yours, the sound of his laughter, and his scent. For a moment, you pretend it’s just a normal day where your duties are mundane and Phainon’s presence is but a reward for accomplishing your task. A perfect ending, a beautiful dream.

But dreams will never last forever.

When he lets go, the chill of solitude envelopes you instantly. Your hands wander over to grasp onto the hem of his sapphire robes, gripping tightly as if holding on to something long lost. His voice calls out your name, repeating it gently until your blurred gaze meets with his cerulean one. He places a kiss on your forehead with a soft hum. It’s almost painful how genuine and affectionate it feels; as if he still believes there is always another chance, another time.

“See you tomorrow,” he whispers against the skin.

“Or the day after tomorrow.”

Another gentle laugh reverberates from him as he tucks the flower behind your ear and at last heads towards the gates to join the others. Your eyes follow him until his figure disappears in a blur of your tears.

[chokkzou]

PART. 2 ! continuation of the discovery of the bllk boys being your cute submissives(?

characters: isagi, reo, nagi, bachira, hiori, ness and kaiser.

tw?: top! male reader x sub! bllk. I don't speak English so sorry if there is any mistake or idk.

link to the first part !

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Meguru Bachira has always been touchy, flirty, and incredibly unfiltered when it comes to expressing himself. He likes physical closeness, he likes teasing, and he definitely likes testing your patience just to see how far he can push before you snap.

What he didn’t expect, though, was that you’d be the one to turn the tables on him.

At first, it was subtle. You’d mirror his teasing, getting just a little too close when he leaned in, lowering your voice when speaking into his ear, resting a hand on his knee absentmindedly while talking to someone else. And he thought he could handle it—he really did.

But then, one day, you trapped him.

It was after a match, the adrenaline still running high in his veins. He was rambling excitedly about his dribbling, gesturing wildly, until you suddenly stepped in front of him and pushed him back against the lockers.

"you talk too much, Meguru," you murmured, voice deep, smooth, teasing.

And oh, he completely short-circuited.

His breath caught in his throat, his usual confident grin faltered, and for the first time, he had nothing to say. You watched as his hands twitched slightly, as his eyes darted between your face and the space between you two—like he was trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

And the best part? He secretly loves every second of it.

That’s when you realized: Bachira loves being overwhelmed. He thrives on intensity, on unpredictability—but when you throw it back at him? He’s defenseless.

Since then, you’ve made it a habit to catch him off guard. Pinning his wrists down when he gets too hyper, suddenly leaning in during a casual conversation, whispering things too close to his ear just to see him stammer.

And the best part? He secretly loves every second of it.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Yo Hiori is cautious with his feelings. He’s quiet, observant, and doesn’t open up easily. He likes to keep a sense of control over his emotions, over how much he allows himself to feel—because if he lets go, he’s scared he won’t know how to stop.

Then you came along, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

You didn’t push him. You didn’t demand answers. But you were patient, understanding, and so effortlessly sure of yourself that it made him uneasy in the best way possible.

The first time he realized just how much your presence affected him was when you pulled him into an embrace without hesitation. No warning, no second-guessing—just firm, solid arms around him, grounding him in a way he didn’t even know he needed.

And he completely froze.

Not because he didn’t like it, but because he liked it too much.

After that, you started testing the waters. A hand on his nape when he was overthinking, a casual arm draped over his shoulders, fingers lacing through his when he got lost in his thoughts. And each time, he melted a little more.

One day, you pulled him by the wrist, guiding him effortlessly through a crowded hallway. It was such a small action, something most wouldn’t think twice about—but to Hiori, it was everything.

He barely registered the way his breath hitched, the way his steps fell perfectly in sync with yours, the way he didn’t even think about resisting.

That’s when it hit him: he didn’t mind being led.

In fact, with you? He wanted to be.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Alexis Ness is obsessive when it comes to the things he loves. He gives himself completely, without hesitation, without restraint—so when it comes to you, he’s no different.

At first, he thought it was normal. You were his favorite person, after all. Of course, he’d do things for you, of course, he’d be eager to please. But then he started noticing things.

Like the way his pulse quickened when you commanded him without thinking. The way his body reacted before his brain could catch up whenever you gave him an order.

"Ness, come here." And he’d move before even realizing it.

"stay close." And suddenly, he was standing so near that he could feel your body heat.

One day, you casually murmured, "good boy."

And that was the moment he completely lost it.

His entire body tensed, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, his fingers instinctively curling as a shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t even mean to react that way, but you saw everything.

You smirked. He wanted to die.

But worse? He wanted to hear it again.

And that’s how you discovered just how easy it was to break him.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Michael Kaiser is cocky, arrogant, and always in control. He loves playing games, being the one to dictate the pace, to have people wrapped around his finger.

But with you? it's different.

It started subtly—small challenges, little battles of dominance. He’d push, you’d push back. He’d provoke, you’d match his energy effortlessly.

At first, he saw it as a game, a battle of wits. But then you started winning.

You’d tug his chin up slightly when he got too smug. You’d lean in too close when he challenged you, never breaking eye contact. And one day, during a particularly heated argument, you grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at you.

"be good for me, Michael." And he forgot how to breathe.

His usual sharp retorts? Gone. His smirk? Completely wiped off his face. All that confidence? Replaced with something dangerously close to surrender.

That's when you knew. Kaiser loves to be dominated.

He’d never admit it, of course. But every time you take control, every time you put him in his place, every time you murmur something too smooth, too firm, too certain—he breaks.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even try to fight it.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

[ultravi0lence14]

SECRET LIFE OF COLLEGE KIDS

DEAN WINCHESTER X DEMON!READER

SUMMARY: a different world’s view on dean and his little monster. where problems like werewolves and vampires don’t exist and lingering eyes and chemistry homework do.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

the whirling sound of the air conditioning unit hummed above you, the stuffy chemistry lab enveloping your senses. chemistry was always your favourite class; the sciences being one of the subjects you excelled in. though, you didn’t seem to like the boy that always seemed to linger his gaze on you a little too much.

you knew his name — dean winchester. while you were studying animal science, specializing mostly in bugs and insects, dean had been one to go on the strict chemistry root, you observing that he was freakishly good at balancing equations while you struggled greatly.

what angered you about the boy is that he always found a way to sit beside or near you. even if seats were open in the class, he’d find his way to your row. in all honesty, it was starting to get very aggravating.

it wasn’t like you were friends, and you knew the boys motives. he was just like the rest on campus, the ones who liked to whisper and point when you walked by. they had special names for you too; like bug freak, goth nerd, or sometimes bolder statements like corpse hugger and murderer.

your brother cas always tried to comfort you by saying they were jealous, but what was there to be jealous of? you weren’t self conscious, but you could tell why some people found you somewhat off putting.

the obsession with bugs could be a starting point, and as much as you didn’t see a problem in the matter, your other brother michael always found it in himself to mention that the hobby of yours was weird and it was a given that people were to make fun of you because of it.

people also tended to not like things or people that strayed from the norms, and your interests were a testament to that.

what your peers didn’t understand is you weren’t a violent person because you liked odd things and wore dark clothing. you were actually very kind, and just liked those things because they were interesting.

it wasn’t your fault that autopsies and lobotomies interested you. nor was the fact that american mary and ginger snaps were your favourite movies just like frankenstein and the picture of dorian gray were your favourite books.

the notion of dean winchester shouldn’t have bothered you. but he was always around, and you just had a hunch that he was waiting for the perfect time to land his attack on you.

today was no different. dean had sulked into class, chatting away with the couple of people he knew in the first few rows. but per usual, he didn’t sit with them. he slinked into the seat two down from yours, the space of an empty seat lingering in between the two of you like a rippling void.

his eyes burned into your skin like molten lava, and each time you turned in his direction, he swiftly turned his head as if he wasn’t ogling the side of yours.

class was dreadful, and as you tried to listen to your teacher ramble on about equations and whatever reason math was brought into chemistry, you felt the burn of dean. it was aggravating, and you wanted to turn toward him and slap his stupid face off.

you don’t think you’ve ever ran out of a class faster. as soon as the professor dismissed the lesson, you were up and out of your seat like it was on fire. clunky boots smacking down the auditorium steps, you ignored your classmates and any wandering eyes as the wind from the door closing breezed past your hair.

all you needed to do was make it to your dorm room, and everything would be okay.

“hey! wait up!”

oh no.

slowly, like the shift of tectonic plates, you turn your body around to see a breathless dean winchester jogging towards you.

the wind ruffles his hair in all the right places, and you’d be a fool to think he didn’t look absolutely charming at the moment. your own long, black skirt billows around your feet, and it’s almost metaphorically linked to the fluttering of your bones when he comes near.

stopping in front of you, dean lets out a small huff. one hand goes to rest on his chest while the other moves to run through his hair. “god,” he breathes out a small laugh, shoulders shaking as you stare at him incredulously. “i need to go to the gym more.”

it’s a hollow joke, one to lighten the conversation, but you don’t take the bait. eyebrows rigid and lips pursed, you grip onto the strap of your leather satchel and stare at him through skeptical eyes. “can i help you?”

eyes widening like he forget he even stopped to talk to you, dean nervously shakes out his hands and wrings them together. his awkwardness is palpable, and your just waiting for the blow of an insult to hit you like a wet towel to skin.

though the words that fall from his lips is far from an insult, and they shock you down to the pivotal point of your being, rocking your bones.

“i was just wondering if you would you be interested in going out with me?”

what. the. fuck?

there was no way he was being serious. you stared for a moment, eyes vacant as the wind howled between you two. you waited for the snickers to emerge, for the cameras to come out and the mass of bodies to come tumbling out from behind trees and bushes.

but nothing happened, so you saddled your resolve, fingers digging into your bags strap as you spat out your words like venom.

“is this some kind of fucking joke?” your hostile voice shocked dean, his wide eyed stare giving away his emotions. he couldn’t even gather his thoughts before you continued. “is this just some prank to you, dean? are you going to go to your friends and laugh about how you bagged the weirdo loner? because if so, than that is the least funny thing i could possibly think of.”

dean stared for a moment, mind foggy before he really registered your words. joke? laughing with his friends? why would you ever believe he would do that to you? it was disheartening, and not because you didn’t trust him, but because you didn’t believe you were good enough to have someone cherish all your weird, squiggly, yet beautiful edges.

finally finding his voice, dean straightened his back and spoke with such a level of clarity you couldn’t help but believe him. “i would never do that to you. i see how people on campus treats you, and it makes me fucking sick. believe me. i want to get to know you because i find you fascinating, alluring, and better yet a person i can talk to.”

like dean, you just stared into the jade green eyes of the boy who was professing much more to you than he could bargain for. your heart was telling you to push him away, flick dean off your thumb like an after thought. yet somewhere deep down, you knew you could trust him.

indignantly, you smiled at dean, slowly starting to walk backwards as that honey sweet smile turned into a deadly smirk. “then pick me up tonight at seven.”

dean smirked back, hands stuffed into his pockets to stop himself from fist pumping the air. “i’ll be counting down the hours, little monster.”

you didn’t even have time to register what he just called you before he was walking away, taking his weird obsession with you and the puppy like attitude he carried around with him.

what the fuck did he just call you?

TAGS: @starzify @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @figthoughts @haunteres @h8aaz @florchids @dulcescorderitas @honeyryewhiskey @beausling @deanswidow @cowboysandcigarettes @j2archives @gibson-g1rl

NAT BABBLES: college alternate reality with little monster and dean is so near and dear to me

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 15

Synopsis: You’re angry at Red Hood, not Jason.

Notes: so, this got really angsty at the end. I don’t know what happened. I knew ya’ll where so excited to have our boy back, and everything with Jason is fine, but Red hood… it's rough. Anyway, I guess, enjoy?

Masterlist

When you woke from your nap, you did a mild pick-up of your apartment (not really, just moved things around so it looked more organized), then you sat on your couch to watch TV. You hated it. Your mind would lose focus and wander to other things, things you didn’t want to think about. It led to you staring at your hands far too many times, picturing blood that was no longer there.

You noticed that your knuckles were dried out, cracking a little. It was odd. In the three years you’d lived in Gotham, you never had an issue with dry skin, considering it was an island on water. You rub at the chapped skin and realize you’ve been overwashing your hands without thinking about it. Neither the girls nor Jason had mentioned it, although with how you keep your apartment, you imagine they didn’t think anything of it. You were having a serious Macbeth moment that worried you, but what else could you do?

At the usual designated time slot, you unlocked your window and waited. And waited. And waited. Nearly three o'clock in the morning, you startle awake on your couch. You practically jump over to the window, having heard a noise on the fire escape, but you find nothing more than one of the neighbor's cat on the fire escape. It blinks at you before scampering up the stairs on the escape. You sigh and accept that he isn’t coming tonight.

The upset that had simmered over the past few days returns. You collect his jacket from where it hangs by your door and march to your window. You shove it open, shivering from the cold air, and toss the jacket onto the escape. There was no reason for you to hold onto it. If he wanted it, he could come and get it because obviously, he didn’t want to talk to you, so you didn’t want to talk to him.

You went to bed upset and tossed and turned for the rest of the early morning. By seven o'clock, you gave up on the idea of sleeping. You paced around your apartment before you came to an understanding with yourself. Cass and Steph were right, you couldn’t stay at home forever. That, and you really needed a distraction, even if it was only for four hours.

****

Jason had been worried on patrol all night. Steph and Cass had reported to him that overall, you seemed okay, if not a little overwhelmed in crowded places. He was shocked when they said they had taken you shopping, surprised you willingly left your apartment. He was mostly happy to know that you were on the up-and-up of your traumatic experience much faster than he would’ve thought. Or at least a little bit. They had told him that while you hadn’t rushed them out the door, there was a certain relief on your features as they were leaving, no doubt about finally having an evening for yourself after constantly having people around.

It’s the reason he didn’t show up that evening, at least that you saw. He had stopped by in his old way, across the street on the roof, around one in the morning. He could see your TV running and spotted the lump that was you asleep on the couch. White noise, he assumed. The TV would be better than silence. He didn’t even check the window, just threw a longing glance at your apartment before moving on his patrol, you constantly in the back of his mind. You clearly needed the time alone, which is why he was surprised when he received a text from you about mid-morning.

You: I’m going to work today walk me home?

He didn’t even respond; just picked up the phone and called you. You answered immediately.

“I only tease you about technology, I know you know how to respond to a text.” Is the first thing you say. Jason can feel the tension leave his shoulders just at the sound of your voice. He shakes his head and refocuses.

“Sweetheart,” had he paused, he would have heard the audible pleased sigh that escaped your lips at the name, “are you sure you're ready to go back to work?”

“I don’t really have a choice. I already called Jackie and told her I would come to work half a shift.” You're clearly making up a reason not to back out, dependable.

“I’ll call back and tell them you changed your mind.” He states, not wanting you to force yourself into it.

“Worry not, I haven’t changed my mind.” You tease. The lilt of your voice when you get like this was something Jason hadn’t realized he missed. You were doing better if your attitude was anything to show for it. After a moment of silence, Jason caught up in the sound of you getting ready for work, you repeat the question you had texted.

“Will you come walk me home?” He answers quickly, easily, despite how tired he was from his night of patrol and bad sleep (worrying about you).

“Course. What time do you get off?” There’s a clatter on the other end of the line (a surprised drop from how quickly he answered), and he’s about to ask if everything is okay, but you respond, rushed, about when you get off.

“And what time do you go in? I can walk you to work, too.” He offers. He hears you suck in a stuttered breath all movement stopping.

“It’s okay, Jay. Daylight hours, I’ll be fine.” You reassure him. Jason wouldn’t admit it aloud, but his stomach fluttered at the way you said Jay. You had never called him that before and even though it was just a shortened version of his name, you said it so sickly sweet that it got to him.

“Alright,” He concedes only because he knows you might berate him if he asked if you were sure about it. He manages to keep you on the phone until you're nearly to work, idle silence mostly filling the space between you two. He enjoyed learning that you talk to yourself sometimes as you get ready, and you will share whatever you see with him as you walk, a dog, some trash on the street, or a motorcycle that made you think of him. You had rushed a goodbye to him just as you opened the door to Jackie’s. He eyed the time. Four hours to waste.

Jason only lasted three hours before he showed up at Jackie’s. He parked his bike in its usual spot in front of your building and tried to take his time walking. It didn’t work. You were walking by with a plated muffin as he opened the door. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, and you greeted him happily.

“Jason!” You held the plate away from your body as you leaned towards him, and without thinking, he pressed a kiss to your temple, hand on your shoulder to steady you. When he pulls back to really look at you, he finds your under-eyes puffy and your eyes red, like you’d been crying. He’s about to ask you about it, but you were off to drop the muffin. He hesitates at the door, wondering if he should sit or wait for you to come back. You stop at the table and start talking to the customers. He takes that as his cue to sit down.

He brought his book like always, considering he was early anyway. He reads, periodically glancing up like you'll materialize right in front of him. He becomes focused on his book when you appear. You set his designated drink on the table and sit down in the booth next to him, sliding until your touching, thighs and shoulders pressed. You sag against the seat, and he nearly does the same. He turns his head to look at you, an odd angle, but he doesn’t want to pull away. Your hand wiggles where your thighs meet, and without a second thought, his fingers curl around yours.

“Hi.” Your voice is drained, but you look happy as you settle your chin on his shoulder to meet his eye.

“Hi,” he replies, and before he can ask you his question, you answer.

“I’m okay,” you say with a grin.

“Then why do you look like you’ve been crying?” He brings his free hand to press at your cheek, thumb rubbing at the delicate skin under your eye. Your eyes flutter, and you pull your face off his shoulder and out of his hand.

“Darla brought her granddaughter in.” Your eyes start to water again. “She was so cute and just so small,” your hand leaves his to show him, “Her little head fit in my hands.”

Jason nearly laughs at you for crying about a baby, but the way you pout at him makes him stop. He pats your thigh as a means to comfort you.

“Okay, but you seemed high-spirited when I came in,” he says. You roll your eyes and bring your hand up to swipe at a tear.

“Because Darla brought her granddaughter in,” you say it like it’s obvious, like he’s just being silly for asking the question. He gives you a look, and you shake your head.

“Between Darla and baby Claire, the girls, and you, it was a good reminder that life is long and not just the now. Not everything is bad, there’s still good in the world.” You add, picking at your cuticles. Jason understands now, maybe a little too much. He had spent a year trying to take over Gotham and get back at Bruce. A year with nothing good shining through the darkness. Focusing just on the bad will do that. You seem more even-balanced than he ever was. A silence settles between you two, it's not awkward, though. You stop picking at your hands and settle your head on his shoulder.

“I think I'm tired, too,” you murmur. “It’s making me a little sensitive, I think.” The silence returns, your hands threaded with Jason’s again, and he almost thinks you’ve fallen asleep until the door dings, and you’re up and out of the booth and in record time.

The next hour is spent easily. You’d return and sit for a little while and then leave to attend customers before coming back again. At the end of the work hours, you slide next to him, now apronless. You settle against his shoulder again, reading the book with him. At the end of the chapter, he closes the book and looks at you.

“Ready?”

 “As I’ll ever be,” you answer, sliding out of the booth and working to zip up your jacket. It's a new one, Jason thinks, having never seen it on you before.

“New Jacket?” Your hands stutter your movement at the question.

“I lost my other one, had to drag this one out of storage.” You mumble. Jason thinks for a moment, trying to figure out where you would have lost your jacket. He had seen you wearing it about a week ago before he remembers. When Red Hood pulled you out of the warehouse, he had given you his leather jacket because you didn’t have one. If you had been walking home, you would have been wearing one, which means it's either still in that warehouse or in a police evidence locker. Jason felt guilty for a moment, like he should have gotten you a new one so you didn’t have to drag one out for storage. One that had clearly seen better days based on the melted hole on the sleeve near your wrist.

You don’t give him time to question or offer because you're already headed for the door. He’s quick to rush ahead of you to open the door. You give him a smile with a scrunched nose like you might tease, but you keep your mouth shut. Once out the door and walking down the street, your gloved hand slips into his pocket where his hand was. Fingers curl together in the warmth of the pocket, and Jason has never been happier.

If he was completely honest, the almost two days away from you were ridiculously hard. You were like a drug to him, and his withdrawal made him antsy, waiting to see you again. Enough so that Damian had pointed it out while they were taking down an arms deal. Damian, who is so much like his father when it comes down to the mission. Jason had denied anything, but Damian had just given him a deadpan look that reminded Jason of when Damian was a baby in the league. He pulled himself together for the rest of the patrol.

Walking with you is much like walking with you on the phone, idle silence, and pointing at things of interest. The walk was slow, even though you looked tired and no doubt ready to be home. Once you reached your apartment building, Jason realized why.

“Thank you for walking me home, Jason.” Your touch slips from his, and you sway on your feet, unsure. You were really tired, exhausted even. It irked you that you only worked four hours and felt like you did a double shift. It probably didn’t help that you had practically bawled your eyes out when Darla brought in her granddaughter, a reminder of where life had started, how far you’ve come, and how far you have yet to go. She had shaken her head at you and let you hold the little girl longer than necessary.

Being so tired, you just wanted to sleep, but you didn’t want Jason to leave. During the time the girls were with you, beyond curiosity, you hadn’t really thought about him, but the moment they were gone was a whole other story. Without distraction, you had become conscious of a Jason-shaped gap in your chest.

You knew you liked Jason, that wasn’t news to you, but this was different. It was a tender, nearly guilty feeling. You felt like, perhaps, he was just indulging you and your affections in the last week because you had been through something traumatic. It's why you were not inviting him up to your apartment (and subsequently into your bed). You wanted to, desperately, having already come to terms with the fact that you sleep better next to him. But you can’t do it, not if he’s just gentle and sweet on you because that’s what you need right now.

He stares at you, and you shift on your feet. You feel like your old way of things are filtering back in. He turns without a word to his bike, same spot as always, and you think he’s going to leave without saying anything until he turns back to you. He holds a rectangular box, only a little bigger than your hand. He holds it out to you expectantly, a slight pink on his cheeks. He speaks as you take it and open it.

“I’m always more than willing to walk you to and from work, but if you're insistent about guilt-tripping yourself out of asking me, at least you’ll be able to protect yourself.” You glance up to glare at him for the guilt trip comment, but it falters when you see his knowing look. Inside the box is an unassuming smaller black box with grip grooves on the side. It kind of reminds you of an old Nokia phone. You pick it up and turn it over in your hand, confused.

“It’s a taser,” Jason says, your whole hand hold changes to two fingers holding it away from you. Jason laughs.

“It’s not a gun, sweetheart,” he takes it from you and edges into your space to show you how to use it. A button on the side to start the electricity startling you and he explains where to aim if someone grabs you and then he’s handing it back to you.

“And it’ll fit in your bag.” He adds like he’s trying to sell it to you. You glance at the said bag, then at the taser, then at him. He seems a little flustered, and it makes you grin; the tender, less guilty version of your feelings works its way across your body.

“Thank you, Jay,” his flush deepens slightly in a way that makes you want to tease him just to see how dark the red would get (or perhaps to see how low it would go), but you reel yourself in. You do stand on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek that he seems pleased about.  He nods and pulls back to get his helmet.

“See you later?”

“yea”

He climbs onto his bike, and you take an appreciative glance, having forgotten how good he looked on his bike. He waves at you, and you return the gesture before he’s gone. You sigh as you climb the stairs into your building. You were in deep with this boy, and you had no idea what to do with it.

****

You did manage to take a nap, longer than you expected. Long enough to keep you awake in the middle of the night, which you had not planned. You’re sat at your island, sipping a warm lemon water trying to lull yourself to sleep when you hear the creak of the fire escape. Your whole body freezes. You know it’s Red Hood this time, the noise more obvious. You don’t know why you thought the cat yesterday was him. You hear a knock on the window.

You don’t move from your spot, instead taking another sip of your water, back still facing the window. You wait for him to leave. You had left his jacket out there the night before. There was nothing else he needed here.

He knocks, and you feel your upset and anger flare again. Why can't he just leave you alone? Can't he tell you don’t want to talk to him? You hear the squeak of your locked window opening, a cold breeze drifting in, and then the window closing. You finally turn to glare at him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The jacket you had left outside is already draped on the back of a chair at the dining table. His helmet is off but still in his hands. You wish he had kept the helmet. His normal, hard-set features are that of a kicked puppy. Thank god his eyes were covered because if they weren’t, you would probably have folded at the sight of them. He suddenly seems hesitant, frozen mid-motion, to set his helmet down.

“What?” his voice is quieter than you think you have ever heard. Your chest aches. You missed him in the past four days, but you wouldn’t let that deter you. You were angry and rightfully so; he got you kidnapped.

“I said, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I left your jacket outside and locked the window so you wouldn’t come in.” You regret the way you're speaking to him. This isn’t like you, but your outrage oversteps your regret.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he says, slowly setting his helmet on the dining table. You glare at the harsh red metal.

“I’m fine. Get out.” You say flatly. This was hurting you more than you’d like to admit. Red Hood was a friend, a good friend, but his presence led to the disaster that was that night in the warehouse. You got kidnapped because of him, and he didn’t even save you; you saved yourself, and you weren’t proud of it.

“It’s okay if you’re not. You killed someone. That’s not something you just get over.” He says. It wasn’t lost on Jason the fact that you hadn’t told anyone what happened with Ted Jackson. He had talked to Cass and Steph about it and had a long conversation with Bruce in Cave about it that Barbara had inserted herself into regarding what she knew from her father, unofficially, of course.

He takes a step forward, and you take a stunned half-step back. You press yourself against the island, despite him being nowhere near you. Your hands curl around the counter edge, and Jason can see your nails digging underneath. This had been what he’d been worried about. Every time he had badged you about how you were doing as Jason was him, trying to goad you into talking about this. He had worried that you had locked it away in your mind as something to deal with later, but he had already seen spurts of it leak into the way you reacted to things. Despite being hopeful that you would talk to Red Hood about it because he already knew, Jason is sorely disappointed when you just repeat your words.

“Get. Out.” Your words are hard, but your voice shakes as you speak them: “I want you to leave and never come back.” Your eyes are watery, but the rest of your features are set harshly. He’s surprised by it. He didn’t think you could look so…cold.

“Sweetheart,” he offers the name softly, trying to coax you into talking, but you cut him off, voice louder than before.

“You don’t get to call me that.” You point an accusatory finger at him, “You don’t get it. I want you out of my apartment, and I want you out of my life.” There’s a light streak of tears slowly moving down your cheek. Jason doesn’t like the way this conversation feels; his heart hurts in the way you speak to him, especially after knowing the blissful touch of your affection. He has to remind himself that you're talking to Red Hood, not to Jason.

“Listen-” He tries again, but now you’re wound up.

“No, you listen! A man is dead, and it’s all your fault his blood is on my hands.” You present your palms like the blood was still there. “I don’t want you here.” Your words are harsh as you yell, despite the tears streaming down your cheeks. Jason feels suddenly inept that he can't comfort you, can’t press into your space, and wipe away your tears. All he can do is stand there and watch you.

You were right, He thought to himself. If he had been quicker, gotten to you faster, saved you like the alleged hero he was, you wouldn’t have to be dealing with this. Regardless of his years of training, he hadn’t saved you. Sure, you were alive, but you had taken a life. Something you never should have had to do. And while he was proud of you at the time (part of him was still proud of you for it, but that was his secret), he’s upset with himself for even letting it happen.

“Okay,” he resigns as he digs a hand into his pocket, “but before I leave, I have something for you.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Your voice is weak and choked, and he hates it. He pulls out the locket necklace he had Barbara make for you, and he presents it, holding it by the chain.

“Jewelry won't fix any of this.” You sniffle. He sighs at your comment. He wants to step closer to you, to hand it directly to you, but he won't. He pops open the locket to show you the button inside.

“It's an emergency alert,” he meets your reddened eyes, “you were taken, and I couldn’t find you fast enough. If something happens, press this button and someone,” he doesn’t offer himself, “will come find you and help you, one of the bats. We’ll all get an alert that you're in trouble.”

He places it on the table and picks up his helmet, sliding it on, pulling on his jacket. You haven’t said anything else, only staring at the gold locket.

“Wear it, please. If not for my peace of mind, then for yours. I’m sorry… for everything.” You still don’t say anything. He takes that as his cue to leave. Out the window and down the street, he doesn’t even wait on the roof to watch you lock the window.

He was genuinely hurt, if not a little surprised by how the evening went. He had planned to talk to you about what happened, to help you deal with it all, to give you someone to talk to. He hadn’t expected you to blow up at him like that, hadn’t realized how good you were at hiding your inner turmoil from the people around you. He understands, he thinks, why you are upset.

However, it just made his plans that much harder. He wanted to tell you about being Red Hood. Not yet, but eventually. But if you hate Red Hood, carrying a disdain for him, what would happen if he did tell you the truth? He had told himself before that if you hated him for Red Hood or his feelings, then that would be fine, but now, seeing the blank glare you had given him the entire time. He doesn’t think he could do it. It might actually kill him if you looked at Red Hood and Jason like that. Maybe it just won’t ever come out. Maybe he could hide it forever, right? That will work out just fine, he decides

****

The moment you see his figure disappear from the fire escape, you break down sobbing. You collapse on the floor and curl in on yourself. You hate this, you hate this. This ugly, complicated feeling, you hate it so much. Why? Why did you have to feel like this? You thought everything was fine, that you were over it, that you were dealing. It’s okay if you’re not. Both Jason and Red Hood had said something along those lines. Your stupid Jar rattles, and you wish it was real so you could chuck it at a wall.

As much as you hated the way you were feeling, you hated yourself more for how you spoke to him, hated the way you just let the words slip out. Words spoken in anger were the ones most regretted. You didn’t want him to leave your life forever. You wanted him to come back, to be there for you. Even if it was just to judge your cooking skills and tease you about your pickiness.

He was your friend, and you didn’t have a lot of those. Of course, you chased him off, letting your fear of loss hide under a shield of anger. You can't let a good thing last. Better to make it bad before it’s gone.

You sat on the floor, having your own personal pity party for longer than you're proud of. By the time you stood up, your hips ached from sitting on the hardwood floor. You throw a longing glance at the locket but don’t pick it up or go near it. You drag yourself into your bed and curl into a ball. You feel cold, sad, and ashamed. Ashamed for yelling and letting your emotions get out of hand. You cry yourself to sleep, wishing you could take everything back.

Additional Notes: I am so sorry about that ending. That was so rough. Anyways, next week is a filler chapter with Jason. Yay for complicated feelings. Thank you for reading. Let me know what you guys thought! <3 <3

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant

[yangjungwonisms]

Naive- YJW

Warnings: NSFW| MDNI

~hi all, literally got this idea last night and had to write it~

Jungwon wasn’t an experienced man, in fact he spent most of his time trying to pretend he wasn’t attracted to you. Which is crazy considering you two were dating, and you had been for several months now. It isn’t like he didn’t want to do anything else, god he was dying to do more with you. He was just nervous. On the other hand, It’s not like you were super experienced yourself, but there were things you knew that he didn’t. The most you two had done was kiss. They were fantastic kisses, Jungwon had always been a great kisser. But he was holding himself back. There had been a handful of times when you’d start getting carried away while kissing that he could feel himself getting worked up. The very first time you sat in his lap while making out with him he got hard immediately. He didn’t know what to do, what his brain was screaming for him to do was to rut up into you. Instead, he sat there stiff. In more ways than one.

You were so excited the first time it happened, you had been waiting for the day that your beautiful and innocent boyfriend would give into his desires. All you really wanted to do was make him feel good. You just didn’t understand why he was so hesitant. You tried to encourage him but saw how embarrassed he would get so you decided to shut it down. As eager as you were, it wasn’t worth making him uncomfortable. So you decided the next time the situation arose, you’d simply talk to him about it. You just didn’t think that would happen today.

He had been acting weird all afternoon, you couldn’t put your finger on why that was. He on the other hand, was very close to losing his sanity. He had been with you all afternoon and from the minute you had walked through the door he was rock hard. It was everything about you. The slightly low cut shirt you were wearing leaving just enough to the imagination, but that was making him damn near salivate. It took everything in him not to bury his face in between your breasts. You also happened to be wearing his favorite pair of jeans, the ones that made your ass look fantastic. And you smelled so good too, god he was done for. He had been doing his best to avoid being too close to you if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But it was a battle he was losing. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of what he was doing, you could see the hard on he was trying and failing to hide. He was only wearing sweatpants but you could see the outline of him so clear that you knew he couldn’t have been wearing anything underneath. The longer you looked at it the more you wanted to reach out and take him in your hand. Fuck this, you thought, this is getting ridiculous. You’d had a long week and all you wanted was to be with your boyfriend. Without another word, you got up crossed the room and sat down next to him on the couch.

Without realizing it, his body relaxed into yours. Damn, he did miss you. He hadn’t been afforded much free time lately to spend with you. Out of the corner of his eye he sees you start to flash a smile at him. One that could make him do anything you wanted. His body is moving on autopilot, because before he knows it he’s reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. You nuzzled your face into his hand in such a delicate way that he could feel himself giving in. “Hi sweet boy, missed you”. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap he leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. You shook your head mid kiss leaving your boyfriend confused. “Was my kiss not enough for you baby”? You roll your eyes at him before leaning in. “If you’re going to kiss me won, do it right. I’ve needed to be kissed by you all week. Do this for me please”. He never could say no to you. He tried to take the kiss slow, but you wouldn’t let him. One of your favorite things was sneaking your tongue into kisses with your boyfriend. He was always so shy at first, but you could hear the little groans and sighs he was letting out before finally giving in. You tried to pull away from the kiss to catch your breath but as quick as you had pulled away Jungwon had kissed you again. He tried to be nonchalant about moving your hands into his hair, and you let him think that you truly believe it was your idea.

He’s sick, he knew when he moved your hands into his hair that he was getting worked up. He really thought he’d be able to control his body, but when you gently tugged on his hair you felt his hips jump up into yours. He pulled away immediately, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You were well aware of what was happening. He was fighting a battle with himself, one he usually won. But this time, he was already too far gone. You tried to kiss him again but he moved away from you so fast it gave you whiplash. Your hands, still in his hair, gave another experimental tug, hoping it would bring his attention back to you. He let out a hiss and took a deep breath. “Baby, it’s okay”. His face was still in your neck but he had started slowly moving his hands down to settle on your hips. “It’s embarrassing baby. I can’t”. You coaxed him out of your neck and got him to look at you. “s’not embarrassing baby, don’t you wanna feel good”? He did want to feel good, he wanted it more than anything. So maybe it was time he let go.

“I do wanna feel good baby, so fucking bad. I’m just in my head about it”. A surge of affection shot through you hearing his confession. “Oh baby boy, let me help you, yeah”? It really hadn’t occurred to him that you’d be willing to do this for him. He’d thought about you so many times alone in the comfort of his own home fucking into his fist. In fact, the amount of times he had cum to the thought of you was embarrassing. He was getting stuck in his head again, you were sitting in his lap looking so beautiful for him and he was leaving you waiting. “God I want that so bad baby”. You took it upon yourself to start leaving kisses down his neck, moving down to his collarbones which was a spot you noticed was sensitive for him. “Can I touch you baby? Make you feel good”? He was quick to nod his head, throwing it back and shutting his eyes in anticipation.

You move off of his lap, going to settle in between his knees. He’s shaking in anticipation, not sure what to expect from you. You reach your hand out to touch him over his pants experimentally. As soon as he feels your hand cupping him through his sweats he can’t control his hips grinding up into your hand. You take a few minutes simply feeling him up over his pants. His moans started out breathy and quiet at first but grew in bass by the second. When you go to move your hand away from him he lets out a whine, missing the contact instantly. “Feel okay baby”? His thoughts were racing, he didn’t know what to think. There also wasn’t anything that could’ve prepared him for how good your hand would feel on him. He didn’t respond, no actually, he couldn’t respond. He was fucked out already and you had barely even touched him. “Jungwon, do you want me to keep going”? Again, he’s quick to shake his head yes. “please baby”. You go to start pulling his sweats down so you have better access to him. He can’t maintain eye contact with you with the way you’re ogling his cock.

He’s too obsessed with the way you’re looking at him to notice that you asked him a question. “Do you want my hand or my mouth baby”? Selfishly he wanted both, he just didn’t know how to ask for it. He doesn’t answer so you reach out and cup his cock. “Oh- fuck. Fuck I can’t think. Hand. I mean your hand baby. I want your hand please”. Then you do the sexiest thing that Jungwon has ever seen in his life, you spit into your hand before reaching out to start stroking him. You keep a slow pace at first, not wanting to overload him with too much at once. You’d think he was getting fucked the way he was moaning. He had an arm thrown over his face, shielding him from looking. It’s then you decide to speed your hand up, stroking him faster. “Oh fuck me. Oh god, baby”. You had only been jerking him off for a couple of minutes but Jungwon was seconds away from cumming. He was embarrassed that with such little stimulation he was about to cum incredibly hard. So without a second thought you lean in and start kitten licking at his tip. You don’t miss the way his eyes shoot open at the action. He has his hands at his side desperately clutching at the cushions on the couch trying to ground himself.

You’re obsessed with the power you’re wielding over him. But now that you have him here in front of you moaning so prettily for you, you were prepared to give him everything he wanted. You take the next few seconds taking him in your mouth fully. On pure instinct his hands shoot to your head. They’re holding you loosely unsure of what to do but when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your gag reflex kicks in he accidentally bucks up into your mouth. The way you gag around his cock makes him dizzy. He never imagined just how tight and warm your throat would feel, but he’s in another world right now. He almost cums then and there when you look up at him and smile. He swears you became 10 times more beautiful to him in that moment with your mouth full of his cock.

Jungwon was trying to be good, he was trying so hard to keep his hands to himself but the way you were sucking him off was overwhelming him. Everytime he hit the back of your throat his grip on your hair tightened. And every time that happened his hips would buck up into your mouth. “Oh fuck baby, I’m sorry shit, I- It feels so fucking good oh my god. I can’t fucking stop baby, I’m sorry”. You weren’t sure what exactly he was apologizing for until his hands stilled your movements altogether and he started fucking into your mouth. He kept apologizing with every thrust he made. At first, his thrusts were shallow, unsure of how to move his hips but then once he was more certain of himself his pace started to increase. It was almost like you weren’t even there, he was so lost in pleasure he was essentially fucking himself with your mouth. And you’d be damned if that didn’t turn you on. He was moaning like crazy, unable to control anything other than the pace at which he was fucking your throat. “Fuck baby, I’m so sorry, feels too fucking good I can’t stop. Oh fuck baby, oh fuck”. He was starting to babble the closer he got to finishing. You were entirely too worked up by this point, so when he wasn’t looking you snuck your hand down into your pants and started touching yourself.

He didn’t really pick up on it until you started moaning around his cock. The sensation alone would’ve been enough to finish him, but then he saw your hand moving in between your legs and saw the way you were fucking your self that he knew he was done for. “Oh fuck are you touching yourself pretty? Oh god, can I see please”? Heeding his request, you stop for a second to pull your bottoms off fully. If he wanted a show he was going to get one. It was almost shameless the way you held out your hand to him. He wasn’t sure what you wanted him to do at first, then he realized you wanted him to spit into your hand. He watched as you brought your hand back in between your legs and spread his spit all around. His movements had stilled for a second, too fascinated just watching you play with yourself. Everything you did was dirty, the way you touched yourself was with a ferocity that he didn’t know you had in you. Then he saw you start to fuck yourself with your fingers that reminded him where he was and what he was doing. Slowly his hips started to move again, but his eyes never left your pussy. He was so fascinated with what you were doing and how you were doing it. He made a mental note to ask you to fuck your self in front of him later so he could see it up close. He’s nearly worked himself back up to the edge when he makes one last request for you. “Baby, can you match my pace? Wanna see you finish when I finish. Oh fuck you’re so pretty. I think I’m in love with you oh my god”.

All it took was a few more minutes of you both fucking yourselves to have you cumming. How he’s able to wait to finish after you is crazy to him. He didn’t realise you were so worked up for him. He now has a blinding grip on your head. He feels terrible that he’s just holding you there while he makes himself cum. But he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop himself. “Oh yeah, that’s it baby, fuck your mouth feels so good. Oh fuck I’m gonna cum baby, gonna make me cum oh fuck”. He’s overwhelmed by his impending orgasm so much so that he isn’t thinking. He figured he was going to finish in your mouth but in a haze he pulled you off of him in just enough time to cum all over your face. Seeing it, he let out the loudest groan you’ve ever heard. “Oh fuckkkkk, oh god you look so fucking good with my cum on your face baby”. It’s then you reach out to stroke him through his orgasm until he’s shaking with overstimulation. You keep stroking him until he’s hard for you again, this time it takes mere minutes for him to cum for you again. He cums so hard his hips are stuttering and he can hardly keep himself from falling over. He is well and truly spent. Without another word he picks up his phone and snaps a photo of you with his cum all over your face that he is for sure going to use the next time he’s alone and desperate for you.

Later, when the two of you are relaxing you can’t help but notice the permanent tint on his face that he’s had ever since earlier. You think he’s embarrassed because he told you he loved you for the first time with his dick in your mouth. You truly didn’t pay it any mind, you figured it was just in the moment. He is embarrassed but he’s more upset than anything. He does love you, he wanted to tell you before all of this happened and he can’t believe he said it while you were choking on his dick. “You look deep in thought won, what’s going through your head”? But you on the other hand were worried he felt pressured into it. He could tell you were overthinking everything and even though he wanted to crawl into a hole he needed to make it clear that he wanted it. “Baby, I know what you’re thinking and no you didn’t pressure me into this. I wanted it, very badly. And I really enjoyed it. God I actually fucking loved it. You’ve gotta let me watch next time you touch yourself please, it’s all I can think about”. He was begging himself to shut up, but the look on your face showed you were enjoying his word vomit. “Yeah? I enjoyed it too”. At that he gestures for you to sit in his lap and when he pulls you into the warmest hug you’ve ever gotten you know for certain you’re in love with him too. “Jungwon, I- I love you”. His eyes shot open, and if you didn’t know better you would say they started watering. “Baby do you mean that”? You just shook your head and leaned in to press a little kiss to his cheek. “Fuck baby, I love you too. You have no idea”. The confession of his love for you sent warmth through your body. You were ready in that moment to give him anything he wanted. You lean in to his ear, biting the lobe teasingly. “Do you wanna watch me now baby”? That was all it took for him to stand up and pull you into his bedroom where he had you teach him how to make you feel as good as you made him feel. By the end of the night he was a pro at making you fall apart with his mouth, paying you back for earlier.

[hannahssimblr]

It’s an innocuous day in January when, for the first time, I realise my life can come apart just like anybody else’s. Like theirs, mine is a seam, a thousand tiny threads holding it firm, an analogy somewhere about a stitch saving time. Or nine. I don’t remember. My mother is too high class to sew her clothes. When they tear or wear at the elbows and knees, she buys more, because people like us don’t need to repair. 

Friends at school with fraying cuffs on their uniform sleeves, hems of their trousers unrolled and hanging raw about their ankles. Shirts, a rectangular echo of a pocket on the breast of the thing worn for years after being attacked in the hallways by boys who tore them off for fun. Happened to me too. Inevitable. A rite of passage on my first week of school. I wore a shirt still creased from the packet the next day, because my clothes never had to be old, worn, damaged. When something tore, another one appeared in my room. I was from the big house on Vernon Avenue. I had the PlayStation 2 before everyone else. My clothes were always new.

But this, all of this, is like when Jen’s school trousers ripped up the back the time she tried to climb on the cistern to have a cigarette out the window. The threads had been giving for a while. They just waited until that moment to let her know, in a violent display of embarrassment in front of the girls she was hoping to impress. It’s like when the elastic in your swimming togs gives up one day, falling to bits around your body after months of cooperation, eaten secretly by the chlorine the whole time. 

It starts with nothing. A pretzel. The bakery near the university I get my breakfast some mornings. Simple, a bagel and a coffee which I’ll take with me to class. Tuesday, that day. The day I have art history at nine with Steffen, the lecturer that fancies my girlfriend and loathes me. It’s my most dreaded hour of the week, one that calls for the comfort of a pretzel and a coffee, essential to get me through the slog of it, keep me sane while he pretends he cannot understand my German and corrects me sneeringly in front of everyone, determined to embarrass me. 

Card declined. 

“Ah, weird.” Trying again then, and another denying beep. Smiling sheepishly at the barista, explaining I don’t have cash on me. 

“It could be a problem with the machine. You can take it. You come here all the time, so just pay later if you want.”

Thank her. It was nice of her. Tell her I’ll be back in a couple of hours, after my classes, but I won’t be. My card is declined in the little Italian deli where I’ve met Astrid for lunch. It’s awkward this time. They’ve already made our sandwiches up. 

“I’ll pay it,” says Astrid after a long, uncomfortable pause, and presents a little blue debit card while it strikes me I’ve never actually seen it before. Never knew what her debit card looks like, and sort of assumed in some sense she didn’t even own one. Why would she? I think. What does she ever have to pay for?

The sandwiches, I suppose. Tasting worse than ever now, they are spoiled by the pungency of my guilt. We eat them by the river, hands freezing around the tinfoil wrapping, frowning at the water, as the wind lifts white peaks from its surface. “So weird about my card,” I say, but Astrid is disinterested, doing that flippant waving thing with her hand. “Sometimes the machines just don’t work as they’re supposed to. That’s why having cash is good.” She wants to talk about this Iranian film she and Dalia saw in an indie theater. I let her, all the distracted by thoughts of my bank account. It’s fine, surely. I have money. People like me have money. 

Early evening, with my earbuds in on the gym’s treadmill, and I hear a message chime. Jonas. I wipe the sweat from my brow and read it. It’s about the water bill. A message so unbelievably dull that usually I’d ignore it for a few hours, but now my stomach twists. I went back to the bakery after college to pay for my breakfast, and my card was declined again. It looks like I stole that pretzel now. I told the barista I’d come back in the morning with actual euros for her, and she smiled in this vacant way that made me feel like a liar, wanting so badly to explain to her I’m not, like, poor, or whatever. I can pay for it, while knowing that explanation would only make me look worse. 

And now Jonas is asking about the water bill, saying I never paid it. I step off the treadmill and stare at my phone. A drop of sweat hits the screen, magnifying the pixels, little dots of coloured screen, and emphasises the word paid for me, like I didn’t already understand the central theme of the text. As in, I have not paid my share of the bill. 

“I have,” I respond. “It should just come out of the account automatically.”

“It hasn’t,” he says, and sends a photograph of the bill, big überfällige Zahlung across the top of it in terrifying red lettering. Overdue payment. Surely not. My legs start feeling a bit weak, which is very dramatic. It’s fine. I have money. I hold on to the arm of the treadmill anyway, in case I decide to fall over. Someone is asking if I’m still using it. I tell him no and head for the changing rooms. 

I call Jonas from the UBahn on the way home, immediately confrontational on the phone to him. “I paid that bill.”

“Well, you haven’t,” he’s eating something. “If you had, then the letter would not say ‘überfällige Zahlung’.”

“That’s obviously a mistake.”

“I don’t think so,” rustling noises, him unfolding the paper for further examination. “I have never seen a mistake before like this, if that is the case. It’s more likely you didn’t pay.”

“I’ve direct debit set up, so.”

“Okay, then maybe your account is empty.” He says it so casually, mouth full of whatever he’s having for dinner. The nonchalance enrages me. 

“Don’t be so stupid,” I hiss, and someone on the train looks over. “There’s no way. I have loads. There’s something going on with my account today, is all. This is normal.” I have no idea whether it’s normal or not, but am sure there’s merit to saying it with such conviction. 

“When did you last check your account balance?”

Well, I’ve never checked it. The sight of it frightens me and reminds me of the drain and eventual cessation of life. Completely reasonable reason. “Jonas, I am telling you that this is a mistake.”

“You can check. When you get home, check.”

“Yeah,” I say, and hang up as the train hurtles from a station into a black tunnel, rumbling through the darkness. 

“You look unwell,” Jonas greets me as I arrive and untangle my scarf from my neck, choking me now, and kick my boots outside the door. Indeed, I do. My reflection is pale and wild-eyed, hair tousled from grabbing at it, like one of those Wall Street guys in the documentary my economics teacher made us watch to explain the recession. 

“Where’s my laptop?” I already know where it is. Need to look. Can’t bear to. Pushing through the apartment now with everything in a dizzying blur, shaky cam, the smell of Jonas’ cooking, him trailing behind, offering me a plate of it, as if I can even think about putting food into my mouth. 

My laptop is on the bed, tossed all casually on the rumpled duvet. Macbook. How much are these things worth? I never cared before this moment. Jonas is in the door as I type the banking website into the address. My codes then. Fuck sake. Don’t know them. I have to navigate through a chat with my mother to find them, heightening the suspense. Then punch them in. Check balance. 

It’s like being punched in the head, the feeling. Then there’s this long, deathly silence, because Jonas knows without me having to say it. He knows by the look on my face. 

“Do you–”

“I have four euros in my account.”

We look at one another for one endless moment, and I can tell he wants to laugh a bit, because it’s a funny kind of shocking. Four euros. A comically depressing number. 

“It’s fine,” he’s saying now. “You just top it up with more,” and then I look at him with the most scathing look I have in my repertoire, because for the first time, he’s the one who looks like the privileged idiot. I feel I have to speak to him slowly to control the emotion in my voice. Tremors anyway, wobbling there beneath every word. “Where do you suppose I get the money to top it up, Jonas?”

He falters. “I thought your parents gave you money.”

“They don’t.”

“But you… We all thought they were funding your lifestyle.”

“They weren’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

“But Jude,” he says, shaking his head at me. I don’t like that. “You were spending so much money all the time. We all thought you had an unlimited amount.”

“I wasn’t,” I snap. “I wasn’t, really.”

“The holidays you went on. The gifts for Astrid, the way you eat at restaurants every day…”

“Those things didn’t feel expensive. I thought I had enough money to cover it, or, I don’t know, I didn’t think. When I sold my car, I–it looked like…” I break off helplessly. “I got an A in maths, Jonas. How can this happen?”

“It’s basic subtraction.”

“This shouldn’t be happening to me.” my laptop fades to black now, the account disappearing from sight, but the reality still ringing in the surrounding air. I think of all I am about to lose. A vision of my life crashing down around me like a house of cards. “Astrid! Oh, God, Astrid. What is she gonna do?”

“She will have to buy her own things for once.”

I groan, head in hands, unable to formulate a response. How can I speak when my life is basically over? Condemned to the streets. One of those people rummaging through skips with holes in my shoes, saying mad things to people at the bus stop, terrorizing the feral pigeons in the town square. There he is, crazy bird man, a cautionary tale. He got an A in maths in his leaving cert, and this still happened to him. 

Jonas, there by the door, deciding it's the perfect time to ask whether I've paid rent this month.

Without looking up. “No,” One glance at my account was enough to show it’s been struggling along for a while. Hundreds becoming tens, whittling down through December to the last few euros. Pocket change. It’s been bad for a while. “No, I didn’t pay rent.”

“Hm,” he says. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Looking at him in despair, considering, briefly, a tantrum of some sort. Pure childhood panic. If I cause enough of a scene, this will all go away. Looking into Jonas’ face is frightening, because I can see it there. He doesn’t know what to do either. He isn’t going to help me. 

“What do I do?” I ask, as if he knows. Pity in his eyes, watching me flail. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Perhaps you can get a job.”

A job. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. A job. An actual job. Kill me. That’s the last thread. The one causes the seam to give and ruins my life. You don’t understand. I want to explain. I’m from the biggest house on Vernon Avenue. I had a PlayStation 2 before everyone else. Instead of saying that, I lie here like a corpse, staring at the ceiling, wishing some heavy piece of furniture would crash through it and turn me into one for real. 

“It’s not bad,” he says, not understanding how bad it really is. Unable to fathom the intricacies of my life. 

I don’t bother to answer. It’s the financial equivalent of being pantsed in the schoolyard. The blankets ripped off my sleeping body on a winter morning. I am a creature accustomed to the shade beneath a rock, exposed at last to the light, nothing left to shelter me.

A job. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Ardent

@wolfstarmicrofic February 28, word count 672

“What do you mean Remus is on a date?!” Sirius said, mouth hanging open in shock. 

“I mean, he and Marlene are currently out by the Black Lake having a date,” James explained calmly. Sirius couldn’t understand how they could all be so calm. REMUS WAS ON A DATE!!!

“I think it’s sweet, Marlene’s had a crush on Remus for forever,” Mary told the group gathered together in the common room. “She was so excited when he asked her. We spent hours getting her ready,” Lily nodded. 

“I’ve never seen her look so happy. She was blushing when they left,” Sirius grimaced at the dreamy looks on the girl's faces. He just couldn’t see Remus and Marlene together. They didn’t fit. Remus belonged with… He cut himself off there, unwilling to think any further about who he thought Remus should be with. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Peter asked as he set up the cards for a game of exploding snap. Yes, Peter, Sirius thought. That was a good question. As far as he was aware, Remus and Marlene had very little in common. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lily’s voice had taken on an airy air. “He’s probably telling her how ardent his feelings are for her, and she’s blushing in the sunset,” Sirius was horrified. Mary snorted. 

“You been reading Austen again Lils?” 

“Shut up, it’s romantic!” Lily huffed, her own cheeks turning pink. 

“He’s probably tripping over his words and Marlene’s probably tripping over her feet. Give it an hour, and they’ll both be back up having had a perfectly pleasant time and Marls will be soaked through because she tried to stroke the giant squid again,” James told them as he slammed down a card on top of Peter’s. “Snap!” He shouted loudly. An hour. Sirius could wait an hour. 

That hour was the longest of Sirius’s life. Every time someone came through the portrait hole, he sat up straighter. He lost abysmally at exploding snap, though Peter was the one who got a face full of smoke. Finally, Remus and Marlene returned and Sirius felt a rush of relief as Remus immediately walked over to him, leaving a dripping Marlene by the entrance. 

“Giant squid?” James asked. Marlene nodded, and a few Galleons got passed to James. 

“How’d it go?” Sirius asked Remus quietly. Remus leant over and whispered in Sirius’s ear. 

“It was nice,” The little hairs on the back of Sirius’s neck stood up, and he felt a ripple of something shoot down his spine as Remus’s breath tickled his ear. 

“Come on, let's go get you cleaned up,” Mary told Marlene, leading her up to the girl's dormitories. 

“I’m gonna go change as well; the squid squirted me a bit as well when I dragged Marlene out of the water,” Remus told them, heading up the boy’s staircase. 

“You should just tell him how you feel,” Lily said to him quietly, so no one else heard. 

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Sirius said, confused. They were best friends, always had been. But then the images from the dreams he sometimes had floated into his mind, and the world stopped. His eyes darted up to meet Lily’s all-knowing ones, and he blinked dumbly at her as he figured out what she’d clearly known for a while. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Does everybody know?” He asked her, his eyes darting around the room. 

“Mary might, but everyone else, including Remus, is totally oblivious. Your secret’s safe,” she winked. 

“What do I do, Lils?” His heart was thumping so loudly he wondered that she couldn’t hear it. 

“You tell him, and then it’s his to decide what to do. Though you didn’t hear it from me, as I’ll deny it until I die, but Remus has been in love with you since the day you met,” Sirius’s heart stopped. He looked towards the spiral staircase and, without a moments thought, he was racing across the common room and up to Remus. 

[nephilimeq]

Oh, Darling, Please Be Mine

Prompt: Proposal

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/162762577

Tommy felt his heart hammering in his chest as he led Evan up to the edge of the clearing, where it was easiest to see the ocean from, praying that he didn’t pass out before he asked him the question that he knew would change his life…

…but he also knew that he didn’t just want to dive right into it. He had a plan.

Once they were finally up there, he turned and said, “You know you’re the first person I’ve ever shared this place with?” and his boyfriend nodded and quipped, “Yeah, you, uh…you kinda mentioned that before,” and the airman flushed, feeling his stomach flip at the adorable smile on the younger man’s face, a part of him still terrified that he was making the wrong decision. God, what if Evan said no? Even worse, what if he laughed at him? What if—

No. He cut off the line of thought before it could get worse and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, well…this has always been where I’ve felt the safest, you know?” Tommy started to explain, wanting Evan to truly understand why that place was important to him. “When…when things got bad at home, I always knew I could come here and no one would find me. Here is where I learned to accept…well…me. All of me.”

At that, Evan’s brow unfurrowed and he knew he was getting through to him and let out a sigh of relief and pulled him closer, moving them to a spot where they could sit, echoing their positions from before.

His boyfriend pressed up into him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, and Tommy felt himself settle.

“When I realized I liked boys, it was here. When…when I realized I never wanted to be my father, it was here. I learned how to make paper cranes here, too,” he added with an embarrassed nod of his head, and his boyfriend’s eyes lit up and he unintentionally interrupted, “You can make paper cranes?” but stopped when Tommy shot him a look, for which he was grateful, and he grasped at his hand with his own. “I also learned that most relationships take a hell of a lot of work and some people…like my parents…don’t know how to put in the work…”

His voice trailed off and he felt the mood shift slightly and felt bad for doing that, not wanting to make his boyfriend feel bad for him and swiftly tried to change the conversation back to a lighter note by saying, “But I’d like to think I’ve figured out a thing or two,” and ran his thumb over the ridges of his knuckles.

“I think you’ve been doing pretty good,” Evan said, shooting him a puppy-eyed look with those perfectly blue eyes of his.

Tommy’s stomach flipped. Again.

The ring in his pocket felt like a lead weight.

He couldn’t decide if the weight was one of promise or one of dread—he loved Evan with all his heart, but there was still some insidious voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that he would ruin everything by asking him to marry him. God, he loved the idea of hearing Mr. Kinard, or maybe even Mr. Buckley-Kinard coming from his lips…but his fear of him saying no somehow weighed more than the prospect of him saying yes, and it was holding him back.

He bit at the inside of his cheek and then turned his eyes to the horizon, taking in the view, and instead of saying what he wanted to, instead said, “It was also here where I decided to go into the army. I used to stare out at this view and all I could think of was being in the air, getting away from it all, you know?”

Evan nodded.

“So…this place was for you what my little hunting shack was for me?” he remarked, and Tommy hummed in the back of his throat and replied, “Yeah, I guess it was. I spent hours here pretending to fly off to places across the ocean. I used to make up countries that didn’t exist. I, uh…I always liked the idea of finding an island filled with dinosaurs,” he softly admitted, hoping that he wasn’t embarrassing himself…

…and was taken aback when his boyfriend said, “Oh, you mean like those Dinotopia books?”

He arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t know Die Hard or Love Actually, but you know one of the most obscure books series from the early nineties?” he asked, incredulous, unable to keep from lightly chuckling at the anachronism, shaking his head as Evan shrugged with a sheepish grin on his face, still trying to understand aspects of the young man in front of him, wondering if he would ever learn everything about him.

He hoped that he didn’t. Tommy hoped that he would go through the rest of his life constantly learning about new things about Evan that he didn’t know. All he wanted to do was keep unraveling the mystery of the man in front of him and living the rest of his life with him no matter what happened, even if it meant that he had to stop flying—and fuck, if that wasn’t the most terrifying thing he had ever thought of; that he would give up flying if it meant that he could keep Evan Buckley in his life.

Tommy’s nerves finally settled.

He went to open his mouth to take the jump, but then Evan said, “I do know things, you know. You don’t always have to sound so surprised,” and the airman gave him a look and said, “I’m not surprised…”

His boyfriend gave him a look.

“…okay, maybe I’m a little surprised, but I like that. I like being surprised by you…”

With trembling fingers he reached towards his pocket and unzipped it as quickly as he could and then pulled out the ring box, noting Evan’s blue eyes widening.

“…and I want to keep on being surprised by you for the rest of my life. For the rest of our lives,” he amended, feeling an odd calmness settle over him as he opened the ring box to show him what he’d picked out for him. “So, if you don’t mind—Evan Buckley—will you do me the honor of turning our lives into something even more? Because I can no longer see a future without you in it, and I don’t want to wait any longer. When I think of home, I don’t think of a house with a cracking front driveway, an uneven foundation, and a leaky side roof anymore...I think of you. You are my home.”

He searched his face, noticing a faint sheen of moisture in the corners of his eyes.

“Evan. Will you marry me?”

He swore everything went silent, even the birds in the trees, the only sound the waves down below them, faint and pulsing in time with his heartbeat as he waited with bated breath, somehow not scared by the silence that he hadn’t been expecting, but instead completely ready for whatever his boyfriend might say…

…and then his heart caught in his throat when Evan looked up at him and said in a tremulous tone, “Oh, god, yes…Tommy, yes,” and then leaned in and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss that caught him off guard with its softness and sweetness, and he could feel faint tear tracks press to his cheeks, tears that weren’t his, and Tommy leaned into the kiss, pouring all of his love into it, using his free hand to grasp at the younger man’s waist.

Eventually they pulled back and Evan wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and said, “That is literally the most perfect ring I’ve ever seen,” and Tommy smiled.

“It took me a while to get it made. You almost nearly found out about it, actually,” he admitted, and blue eyes locked back onto his.

“Really? When?”

“Remember that yoga class I dragged you to?” Evan nodded. “Yeah, well, I didn’t realize that the woman I ordered the ring from was also a yoga instructor,” he said with a comedic tilt of his head, and was thrilled when his boyfriend coughed out a wet laugh and shook his head and said, “No! Wait, that’s why you were acting so weird around her?”

Tommy nodded and said as he pulled out the ring from the ring box, “Yeah, nearly blew the whole thing up right then and there—and then there was me convincing you to come here,” he reluctantly confessed. “I knew I was gonna propose right after the 118 bash at the beach, before the week was out…and then you gave me the perfect opportunity with this picnic. That’s kind of why I was being so weirdly controlling at the beginning of the trip. And why I took so many photos,” he added as he slipped the ring onto the third finger of Evan’s left hand.

Evan laughed again and said, “Kinda glad you did…oh my god, this is real, isn’t it?”

He lifted his hand and stared at the ring.

“Mhmm. It is.”

“You…me…we’re-we’re…we’re engaged.” Tommy watched as it sunk in. “We’re…oh, god, we’re engaged!” Evan exclaimed, leaning back in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, his entire face lit up with the biggest smile the airman had ever seen. “I’m gonna be Mr. Buckley-Kinard…”

“So you do want to hyphenate? I was kind of hoping you would…”

Evan nodded so violently he was afraid his head would fall right off.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I love your last name, but I want everyone to know about both of us, and this way if we have…if we have kids,” he hesitantly added with a duck of his eyes, “They can have both of our names.”

Tommy nodded right back at him and softly agreed, “Yeah, I’d like that. And besides, once we’re both captains, we can go by our own names so people won’t get confused,” he said with a wry grin in as much of a serious tone he could muster considering just how overwhelmingly overjoyed he felt in that moment—so much so that he was certain that he was about to start yelling at the top of his lungs to anyone who would listen that he had gotten Evan Buckley to agree to marry him.

His boyfriend’s expression was adorable as his nose scrunched up and he said, “Once we’re both captains? Wow, uh…sounds like-like you have some pretty big plans for us,” and Tommy gave him a soft smile and said, “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about our future lately, and it just made sense that we both might want that one day…”

“Not gonna lie, it’s occurred to me. Just…I don’t want it to happen too soon, you know? I kinda hope Bobby sticks around for a while longer.”

Tommy felt his heart melt a little at the admission.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, reaching out and brushing a stray curl from his forehead, loving how long his boyfriend’s hair was getting…and then was taken aback when Evan said, “Hey, so I’ve got an engagement ring, but what about you? I wanna show the world that you’re about to be mine, too,” and the airman didn’t know what to say—but then took a second and suggested, “How about I show you the website and you can design one for me, too?” and Evan lit up.

“Oh, I like that idea. You’d let me do that? Because I know you’re kinda weird about that kind of thing. You know, jewelry,” he said, tugging lightly at Tommy’s shirt. “I mean, you wear necklaces from time to time, but because you work with your hands so much in your off time, I wouldn’t want to pick something that would get in the way…”

Tommy shrugged.

“Then we pick it out together.”

Evan’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned back in and recaptured his boyfriend’s—no, his fiancé’s lips with his own, and lingered, soaking in the moment at finally realizing that his boyfriend was now his fiancé and that as soon as he possibly could, his last name would be attached to his and they would be married. And he would have a husband.

Fuck, he never thought that it would happen.

Unbidden, he felt a few of his own tears finally sneak out, and Evan pulled back from the kiss just enough to breathe out, “Hey, are you okay?” and Tommy nodded and said, “Yeah, just…you said yes. You-you…you’re gonna marry me. You’re gonna be my husband. We’re…we’re gonna be married," the words finally sinking in, the realization of what had just happened somehow hitting him with all the weight of a firehose to the chest.

The younger firefighter grinned wide and said, “Yeah, we’re gonna be married! I can’t wait ‘til I get to call you husband…”

All of the air left his lungs at once.

He nodded.

“Yeah. Husband,” he said breathlessly, reaching out and lightly tracing his fingers along Evan’s jawline, darting his eyes between his lips and baby blues—no, sky blues, he mentally corrected. Eyes as blue as the sky that he had escaped to at the age of eighteen, skies that he was willing to let go of for the rest of his life if it meant waking up to seeing them right next to him every morning until he could no longer open his own eyes.

Evan then said, “So…we gonna head home, now? Tell everyone the good news?”

Tommy shook his head and softly replied, “Not just yet. I want this to be just us for a little while longer. Is that okay?” he asked, nervous, but his fiancé nodded and skated his thumb over the back of his hand and said, “Yeah, it is. We can keep it to ourselves a bit longer. Just us.”

They stayed like that for a while, sitting and staring, and the airman found himself constantly running his fingers over the ring on Evan’s finger, still baffled by the fact that he had said yes.

Unexpectedly, Evan broke the silence with, “So…when you were asking me about my favorite season earlier, were you trying to figure out when you wanted us to get married?” and he shyly nodded and ducked his eyes. His fiancé chuckled and said, “You know what, I don’t care when we get married, just that we do. Now…how long do you want to keep this between us? Because the moment we tell Chimney, everyone will know,” and Tommy rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Ugh, I know, but I also know that you want to tell your sister as soon as possible, and once she knows, then Howie knows, and…yeah.”

They shared a look.

…and then Tommy said, “How’s this. We keep it to ourselves for the next few days. You’ll have to keep the ring off during work hours, anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to hide,” he added with a head tilt. “When you’re ready, we tell them. Not a moment before.”

He rubbed his finger over the ring one more time.

“Only when you’re ready…”

It felt soft and sweet when Evan leaned in and kissed him, none of the manic energy and passion from before, but somehow with even more love than before and he sank into it, enjoying the way it made his brain go quiet, and by the time they both pulled back he was feeling lightheaded in the best way possible and so took a moment to catch his breath by resting his forehead against Evan’s, wondering if they stayed like that long enough that his birthmark would be etched onto his skin, as well.

Evan then said, “I like that idea. Not sure how long I can keep it a secret, though, to be honest,” and Tommy snorted and shook his head and said, “Yeah, why am I not surprised? Don’t worry about it, Evan. Just do it when it feels right.”

His fiancé arched an eyebrow at him.

“I, uh—I kinda wanna call Maddie right now,” he admitted, and the airman threw his head back and barked out a laugh and said, “I think ten minutes isn’t quite enough time. Give it a few hours, at least?” and they broke into giggles together and ended up on their sides in the grass, staring at each other as they tried to come down from their laughter.

Evan calmed down first and said, “Yeah, I can…I can do that.”

They laid there for a little while longer, Tommy basking in the hope and love that he felt…and then the young fireman said, “God, I can’t wait to be married to you…”

…and Tommy smiled.

He couldn’t wait, either.

[nxzz-skz]

not quite a series but more so a prompt that you could build into whatever you want but idk js something with reader being AMAZING with kids (preferably fem reader but if you only write gn reader that’s cool too!)

like the quiet little kids love her nurturing a soft personality and hugging up on her and clinging to her

she energetic kids lover her playful attitude and she wears them out in such a gentle manner

she quiets down the rowdy kids and even the badly behaving kids are eased by her firm yet soft boundaries and her way with words

like idek what i’m looking for just ot8 x good with kids! reader

I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH! 🥹💖 A reader who’s just naturally amazing with kids, and all the Stray Kids members getting absolutely weak over it?? Perfection.

I think i'll write this as a prompt-style fic where each member gets a little scenario of witnessing how great the reader is with kids! I hope this was what you were looking for! enjoy! <3

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

SKZ x GOODWKIDS!READER

Bangchan :

Bang Chan had always had a knack for being good with kids, but the moment he saw you in action, he knew he had been outdone. You were swarmed by a group of hyper toddlers at a daycare, playing some silly game that had them giggling and squealing. When one tripped after laughing too hard and started sniffling, you didn't panic - you simply knelt down, moved their hair out of their face, and whispered something soft enough that Chan couldn't hear, smiling sweetly. Whatever it was, it worked instantly. The tears stopped before they were even given a chance to fall, and instead there was a small, shy smile as the kid clung to your side.

Chan felt something warm settle in his chest. It wasn’t just admiration—it was something deeper, something that made him wonder what it would be like to see you holding a child of your own one day.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Minho :

Minho was always proud of his ability to understand kids, but even he had to admit (no matter how much he hated it) that you had an entirely different level of skill. The way you could handle the chaotic mix of screaming and giggling was almost magical. He watched as a rowdy little boy tried to push past the boundaries you’d gently set. You didn’t raise your voice, didn’t scold him harshly. Instead, you crouched to his level and spoke in a soft but firm tone, your fingers brushing his shoulder just lightly enough to ground him. Within seconds, he was nodding, suddenly obedient, as if he hadn’t just been seconds away from launching a toy across the room.

Minho shook his head, a quiet smirk playing at his lips. “Dangerous,” he murmured under his breath. “You’re dangerous, Y/N. If you keep this up, I might just fall for you.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Changbin :

Changbin wasn’t exactly the best with kids. He liked them well enough, but they always seemed to get bored of him too fast—or worse, they ran away. But not when you were around.

You were visiting a friend who had twin girls, both of whom were bouncing off the walls with energy. Changbin had barely survived five minutes before they started pelting him with stuffed animals, but you? You had them both in the palm of your hand. One was clinging to your arm, giggling, while the other was happily letting you braid her hair, completely ignoring the fact that she’d been sprinting around like a tornado moments before.

“You’re a wizard,” Changbin blurted out. You just laughed, reaching over to fix the bent hair clip in one twin’s hair.

“Just gotta know how to match their energy, Binnie.”

He sighed dramatically. “Marry me.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Hyunjin :

Hyunjin had always thought kids were cute, but he never realized how much cuter they were when they were clinging to you like baby koalas.

The two of you were at an event, and somehow, you’d ended up with a sleepy little girl curled up in your lap, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Every time someone tried to take her from you, she only held on tighter, mumbling sleepily about how you were “comfy.”

Hyunjin swore his heart almost gave out.

Later that night, as you brushed the little girl’s hair away from her face, humming softly, he caught himself staring. And maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about how beautiful you looked holding someone so small and precious.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Jisung :

Jisung had never seen anything like it. One second, his nephew had been screaming bloody murder, throwing an absolute tantrum over a toy, and the next? He was sitting next to you on the couch, quietly playing with the very same toy like nothing had ever happened.

Jisung leaned in, whispering, “What kind of sorcery did you just use?”

You laughed, keeping your voice quiet as you replied, “Just a little patience. And some redirection.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, then at his nephew. “You’re telling me I could’ve avoided years of chaos if I’d just… redirected?”

“Yup.”

“…I think I love you.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Felix :

Felix adored kids, and they adored him back—but even he had to admit, you had a way with them that was beyond special.

He watched as you played with his niece, gently bouncing her in your arms, a soft smile on your lips. The baby, who had been fussy all day, instantly settled against you, tiny fingers grasping at your sleeve. You swayed slightly, humming a tune under your breath, and Felix swore he’d never seen anything so heart-meltingly sweet in his life.

“Lix?” You turned to him, eyes bright with amusement. “You okay?”

He cleared his throat, looking away to hide the blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, just… wondering how I got so lucky.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Seungmin :

Seungmin didn’t think much about kids. He liked them well enough, but he’d never been one to daydream about them. That was, until he saw you with them.

You had an entire group of kids sitting in front of you, completely enthralled by the story you were telling. Even the ones who had been running wild earlier were sitting cross-legged, eyes wide with wonder.

Seungmin tilted his head, watching as you animatedly acted out a part of the story, making the kids giggle. He caught himself smiling and quickly looked away.

He didn’t need anyone knowing that, for the first time, he was thinking about what it might be like to have a family of his own one day.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Jeongin :

Jeongin had always been the baby of the group, so seeing you take on such a nurturing role was something entirely new to him. And he was obsessed.

You had a little boy clinging to your side, refusing to let go as he peered up at you with the most adoring eyes Jeongin had ever seen.

“Noona,” the little boy whispered. “I wanna stay with you forever.”

Jeongin choked on his drink. He wasn’t sure why that sent a pang through his chest, but it did.

“Y/N,” he muttered later, as you held his hand and helped another kid cross the street safely. “You’re kind of… incredible.”

You just grinned, bumping your shoulder against his. “Took you long enough to notice.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

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