#i don’t know if my mom will be with me the whole time or just drop me off or if she’ll stay for some of it and then leave

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)

Word count: ~7k

Posting date: November 21, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |  Masterlist

“She’s Haneul’s mom.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?”

“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”

You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”

Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate. 

He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,�� you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself. 

Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day. 

Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.

“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?

Spoiler alert: you can’t.

When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.

“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.

“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”

Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”

Of course he is siding with her.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.

You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.

He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.

You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”

“Can we talk?”

You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.

“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”

The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”

“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”

The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.

“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”

“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”

Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”

He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”

“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”

The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”

Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”

The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.

“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”

Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?

The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting. 

You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.

It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”

You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.

Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.

But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.

Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.

Because the truth is, you’re nothing.

You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.

But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.

And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.

The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.

You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.

Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:

Joonie: You okay? Joonie: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.

That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.

The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.

Yoongi: Can I come over?

You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:

You: No

You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.

For the next few days, you ghost him.

It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.

His messages come sporadically at first:

Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.

The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.

Yoongi: Haneul misses you

The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.

Yoongi: Still missing you

Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:

A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:

“Sa-ra.”

Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.

And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.

You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.

You exhale shakily. “Hi.”

There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”

“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”

“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”

Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”

Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.

You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.

You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.

You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms. 

Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.

Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.

He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.

Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”

“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.

Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.

A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.

You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.

Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”

“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”

“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.

“My dear girl, please listen—”

But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.

When you step into the living room–

Fuck.

There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.

Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she? 

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”

His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.

“Wait—Y/N!”

You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”

Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.

It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.

You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”

He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.

“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.

Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.

You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.

Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere. 

God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back. 

But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—

“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.

Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.

“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”

And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem

Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.

“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”

“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”

“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.

You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.

“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.

“You’re an idiot.”

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”

You shake your head.

Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there. 

But it’s Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.

“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.

Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”

Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”

Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.

You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”

Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.

The first step is always the hardest.

Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”

You hated hearing it, but he was right.

So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.

Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.

You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.

At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.

You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.

Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.

Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

And then there was Yoongi.

He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:

Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.

Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.

Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.

Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.

Yoongi: I’m an idiot.

Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.

Then came the texts about Haneul:

Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.

Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.

Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]

Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.

And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.

Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.

Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoonah says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!

Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoonah.

Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.

They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.

Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.

But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.

Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.

But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.

You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.

Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.

You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.

One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.

“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”

You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”

“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”

So you did. And a week later, you got the call.

Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.

Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?” 

“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.

Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.

“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.

“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.

You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”

“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”

“What?” you blink, confused.

Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.

“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”

Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”

You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”

The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. 

Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.

His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.

Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.

“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”

You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.

The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.

“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.

You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”

The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.

For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.

And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.

(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)

That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.

You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)

His reply came almost immediately.

Yoongi: You deserve it

And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.

You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr

:)

A/N: 

Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕

I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗 

If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo

Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭

P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

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@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve

[niteskysx]

Stepbro! Nicholas Chavez x reader (one shot fic kinda?, established relationship)

As per your usual evening routine, you’re sitting on the couch with a textbook open on your lap, trying to lose yourself in your studies. Eventually, you hear footsteps—heavy, purposeful—and before you even look up, you know it’s Nick.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, his jaw set in a tense line. There’s a hardness in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. You hesitate to ask, but you do it anyway. Can’t hurt, can it?

“Rough day?” you ask softly, trying to ease the tension with a small, nervous smile.

Nick doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he drops down beside you on the couch, much closer than he usually does. “You could say that,” he mutters, his tone sharper than usual. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back, his gaze drifting over you slowly, intently. “Think you could help make it better?”

And there it was.

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small nod. “How… how can I help?”

He raises an eyebrow, almost amused by your innocence. “Just… be here with me.”

His hand moves to rest on your knee, his thumb slowly tracing circles against the fabric of your jeans, sending a shivers down your back.

You feel that familiar touch on you, whenever he “needs” you. “I-I’m here,” you whisper, glancing down, unable to meet his eyes.

“Good,” Nick murmurs, his hand moving up just a bit, his fingers grazing your thigh. “Because I need a distraction. He leans in, his voice softening as he leans in closer to you. “Think you can keep me company tonight?”

You take a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to speak. “Nick… maybe tonight isn’t the best time. I really need to focus on my studies,” you say, forcing a gentle smile, hoping he’ll take the hint and let you go.

Nick leans closer, his voice soft but insistent. “C’mon. Just a few minutes. You don’t have to study all night, do you?” He slides his hand just a little higher as he gives you a faint, almost pleading smile.

You swallow, feeling trapped under his stare. “I… I really can’t, Nick.” you stammer, trying to pull your thoughts together, to say something that might sway him.

Nick’s narrow at your hesitation, and his expression shifts into one of frustration. He lets out a sharp breath, his hand leaving your thigh abruptly. “Fine. Whatever,” he mutters, his voice edged with annoyance. He pushes himself up from the couch, giving you one last hard look before turning on his heel.

Ten minutes flew by.

You had been sitting there in silence for ten whole minutes and you know you should be getting back to your studying but you couldn’t…. He just seemed so mad and you didn’t want him to mad at you. Why did it bother you so much?

You couldn’t figure out why you felt this way, especially considering the amount of stress this man gives you— Sneaking around the house, him finding new ways to “torture” you or pleasure you— depending on what his mood is, making sure no one sees you two together, especially your mom and stepdad.

Before you know it, you found yourself standing outside his door, hesitant. Part of you wants to turn back, but another part of you is telling you to knock on that door.

God, has he completely corrupted you?

Your trembling hands manage to knock lightly on the door, and after a moment, you hear his voice from the other side. “Yeah?”

Slowly, you push the door open, peeking in to see him lying on his bed, playing with a baseball ball by himself, with his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He doesn’t look at you, but you can tell by the way his jaw tightens that he knows it’s you.

“Hey… I just wanted to check on you,” you say softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

He finally turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Why? Thought you were too busy,” he says, his tone a mix of bitterness and something else—something that makes your heart race.

You take a hesitant step forward. “I… I’m sorry if I upset you. I just really needed to study, that’s all.”

Nick sits up slowly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Yeah? And what about now? Suddenly have time for me?”

He sounds mad, but still manages a slight smirk on his face.

You take a seat next to him on the bed.

“I just… didn’t want you to be upset,” you mumble, looking down at your hands.

He scoots in closer to you, closing the space between you and him. “So, you’re here to make it up to me, then?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. “What? I-I didn’t mean—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He leans in even closer than before, with his hand resting on your knee and his face mere inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your face. “I think you did,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on your hips, pulling you just a little closer. “So… make it up to me, then.”

(I WANNA CONTINUE THIS BUT I HAVE NO IDEAS!! 😭 SO IF YOU LIKE THIS SHITTY PIECE AND HAVE IDEAS FOR TO CONTINUE IT LOL PLS LMK OKAYY ILYY 🤍)

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head distantly.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve groaned, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987

@the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd

@theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @queercrisis2003 @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper

@blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon

@samsoble @depressed-freak13

[courtingchaos]

“My dad was a happy drunk.” The crackle of his inhale is right in your ear. “At least when he was still doing it regularly.” He holds the cigarette over for you to take. “I don’t know what he’s like now…like that.” He peters off for a moment, shimmying his shoulders across the old hardwood so one touches one of yours.

Laying oposite each other, heads in the crooks of each others necks, he glances over to see you staring holes through the ceiling.

“He never treated me like shit, not like that, like other kids. I can be grateful for that.” He takes the cigarette back from you when you hold it over his face. “It was after my mom died. It’s like he realized suddenly I could talk back and he forgot to treat me like a kid.” It’s his turn to stare at the ceiling while the ember dances around his words. “I was very suddenly his best friend. Always called me ‘pal’ but now? When he was home? It was like I was on the barstool next to him.” He’s not gonna cry about this. “I hated that shit.”

Another hand off, only this time he digs out his own smoke so you two can be in a haze together.

“So by the time I got to middle school, I didn’t have a dad, I had some guy who sometimes lived in the house with me.”

“Wait, you were living alone?”

He turns his head when you break your hours long silence, nodding as best he can while laying on the floor.

“Yeah. I didn’t move in with Wayne until ‘85.”

You stare at him for moment before turning back to face the ceiling.

“Anyways, it was a Fourth of July thing with some of his buddies. Someone forgot they were holding a bottle rocket and not a Roman candle and at the end of it all I had about half a head of singed hair.” He can remember the smell. Almost sour as the burnt strands crumbled on his shoulder and his dad has started laughing. Talking about near misses and being lucky but he hadn’t felt lucky. “Whole drive home he was trying to crack jokes and I wasn’t having it.” He takes a deep breath that makes the ember glow brightly. “I started crying and he told me to man up. I think he was sobering up, probably shook him to see me covered in soot.

“When we got home he took me into the bathroom and just shaved it all off. Didn’t put a fucking guard on it or anything. I don’t think I’d ever had hair that short, not since I was like…little.” He turns to stare at you then, eyes tracing the shell of your ear where your hair wisps around it in short curls. “He told me it was fine and that it looked better than before. Said the long hair made me look like a queer.”

That earns him a huff from you. One last puff of smoke into the ceiling before you stub out the butt into the ashtray near your elbow.

“I say all of that to tell you my opinion doesn’t matter. The people at work or the grocery store, it literally doesn’t matter.”

You spent the past two days crying about it but it seems your either over it or past the worst of it.

“If it upsets you, it upsets you and nothing I say is gonna make it better. I’m not gonna change your mind.” He holds his hand out across his chest and waits for you to grab it. “I’m sorry it didn’t come out the way you wanted, I know this keeps happening.”

“I didn’t think my hair meant so much to me.” You aren’t crying but the emotion weighs down your words, this he knows after years of practice.

“It’s okay that it did.”

“Feels stupid to cry over a bad haircut.”

He hums and shakes his head and doesn’t tell you it’s not stupid, you already know that. Simple things mean a lot, he knows that fickle game of attachment. He also knows that while his opinion does matter to you on some infinitesimal level, he doesn’t need to constantly remind you that it’s okay. He didn’t start a relationship with you over your hair. It’s just hair is something he’ll be able to say a few days from now when you finally start styling it and talking about a new product you bought. It’s a waiting game that he doesn’t mind waiting through, not with you. However he will remind you of one thing.

“Regardless, you’re still the prettiest girl I know.”

You laugh, something real but quiet, the first one in a few days. “Shut up.”

[vickythefamiliar]

The (chaos) Coven

This is me, a tarantula on the "Witches Road"

At first I wanna say I did not understand why the hell Rio played along with Agatha... It was soooo exhausting omg.

But nvm, I spend way too much time with these witches so here is my opinion on each one of them:

Jennifer

Jennifer? Oh, she’s something else. The ‘all-business, no-nonsense’ vibe is impressive, I’ll give her that.

She’s sharp, like she’s always three steps ahead of everyone, and her wardrobe? Immaculate. I’m convinced she could outdress the apocalypse. She’s got this energy that either makes you want to follow her into battle or stay ten feet away at all times.

I don’t dislike her, but let’s just say she’s not the first person I’d share my cookies with.

Lilia

When I first met Lilia, I thought: Finally, a grandma! She probably bakes nonstop and has a secret stash of cookies somewhere. Wrong. So wrong.

She’s feisty, unpredictable, and somehow always ten steps ahead. Honestly, it’s unsettling.

That said, I’ve gotta admit, her vibe is kind of iconic. The hair? A masterpiece. The whole ‘hippie meets mystical grandma meets chaotic freak’ aesthetic? Approved.

But seriously, Lilia, if you do have cookies, stop holding out on me. Sharing is caring.

Alice

Alice... Where do I start? She’s got this whole ‘the world is against me’ thing going on. Honestly, it’s a little exhausting.

Like, girl, maybe your mom wrote that ballad for a reason other than just to mess with you. Ever think of that? No? Didn’t think so.

But underneath all the eye rolls and melodrama, there’s something real there. She just hasn’t figured herself out yet. She’s a work in progress, I guess.

Cookies for her? Maybe once she chills out. Maybe.

Billy/ Teen/ Wiccan (whatever)

Ah, the prodigy with an attitude. Kid’s got power, no doubt about it, but he’s also got that ‘I know better than everyone else’ vibe. Which, honestly, is kind of funny coming from someone who can barely handle his own magic.

But I’ll give him this—he’s determined. He’s like a little storm in the making, and you can’t help but want to see where it’ll go.

Would I share my cookies with him? Maybe, if he asks nicely.

Agatha... (I call her "the ex-wife I didn’t sign up for")

Agatha? Don’t even get me started. She’s powerful, no doubt, but it’s like she’s always trying to out-drama everyone in the room. She’s got this weird mix of arrogance and insecurity, and honestly, it’s exhausting.

Like, she’ll act like she’s got everything under control, but then, boom, she's throwing a tantrum because Rio didn’t call her back.

But hey, gotta admit, she’s got style—witchy, eccentric, a little unhinged. Honestly though, I'm just here for the chaos.

On the other hand she broke my mistresses heart more than once so I said it before and I say it again: If you're Agatha Harkness - LEAVE.

No cookies for her.

That's it. That's the post!

-🕷💚

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - family issues

!Warming! : this writing may contain sensitive topics for some people, including family fighting and burn out. please read with caution if family arguments or arguments in general easily trigger you.

You had slammed the cabinet door shut harder than you expected to. Your mothers words cutting your skin like a knife, your patience snapping like a taut rubber band that had been stretched too far. “I can’t believe you just said that.” you gritted, turning to her.

Your mom stood across the kitchen, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed in irritation. “I said what I said. You’re always lounging around, doing nothing, while I’m the one keeping this house together.” she spat out.

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice rose as you turned to face her, incredulous. “I vacuumed the whole house this morning, cleaned the bathroom, and scrubbed the kitchen. I’ve been running around all day trying to keep this place livable while you’ve been sitting on the couch!” your voice raised more — you were irritated and upset.

why can’t she just see how hard you work?

“And yet, the laundry is still sitting in the basket, isn’t it?” she shot back, her tone sharp and cutting. “You can’t even finish one thing properly!” her own hands slammed against the counter as her words left her lips.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, shaking. “I can’t do everything! I’m one person! You don’t even notice the things I do unless there’s something left undone.” you could feel the tears brimming in your eyes — but you couldn’t let her see she was affecting you, you had to be strong.

“Oh, poor you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Life is so hard for you, isn’t it? You act like you’re doing me some huge favor by cleaning, but you live here too. It’s your responsibility.”

You stared at her, your chest heaving. “Do you even hear yourself? I am doing my part, and then some! You’re the one who doesn’t lift a finger but still complains that nothing’s good enough.” you choked out.

Her face twisted in anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You have no idea what I deal with every day, keeping this house running and keeping you in it!” she screamed, coming around the counter and getting closer to you,

“Keeping me in it? Are you serious right now?” you echoed, your voice trembling more with disbelief and hurt. “You act like I’m some freeloader who doesn’t contribute. I’m breaking my back trying to help you, and all you do is tear me down!” Your said. “And on top of everything, I worked a full shift this morning. What more do you want from me?”

you were trying, you really were. Did she not see that?

Her scoff was sharp, cutting through the room. “Oh, sure. You do barely the minimum and expect a medal. Maybe if you spent less time pretending to help and more time actually contributing, I wouldn’t have to ask you for money all the time!” she was almost in your face now, you could feel her breath fanning you.

You stared at her, your hands trembling with frustration as you leaned back a little. “Are you seriously throwing that in my face? Every time you ask me for money, I give it to you. Every single time. Do you even know how hard it is to keep my job and still manage everything at home?”

She shook her head. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint,” she snapped. “You live here. It’s your responsibility to pitch in. Or do you think you’re entitled to a free ride?”

“I do pitch in! I’m doing everything! I pay bills when you’re short, I clean up after everyone, and I still go to work to make sure I can cover my own expenses. What do you even do besides sit there and criticize me?” you snapped back, leaning forward from your leaned back position — though that might not have been the best idea.

Her nostrils flared as her eyes turned dark, and she jabbed a finger at your chest — the force digging into your skin making you wince slightly. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I’ve sacrificed everything for this family, and all I ask is for you to pull your weight.”

“Pull my weight?” you repeated, your body beginning to tremble more from your overwhelmed emotions. “I’ve been carrying this house on my back, and you know it! But sure, let’s pretend I’m the problem. It’s easier for you, isn’t it?” you sniffled slightly, the words barely making it past your lips and you tried to keep it together.

“You know what?” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “If you hate it here so much, then maybe you shouldn’t come back. Go find somewhere else to stay if you think you’ve got it so bad.”

Her words stung, piercing deeper than you expected. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold and steady despite the tears beginning to spill over your waterline. “I will.”

Grabbing your keys and slipping on your shoes, you muttered under your breath, “Maybe you’ll finally notice how much I actually do when I’m not here to do it anymore.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you realize how easy you have it,” she called out as you slammed the door behind you.

The cold night air hit your face, mingling with the tears that spilled over as you made your way to your car. Your hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries to get the keys into the ignition.

You barely registered the drive to Matt’s house, your mind replaying the fight over and over like a broken record. By the time you reached his front door, your tears were coming harder, the lump in your throat so heavy it hurt to swallow.

You hadn’t even raised your hand to knock when the door opened. Matt stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair tousled like he’d been lying down, but his entire demeanor shifted the moment he saw you. His brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scanned your tear-streaked face.

“Baby,” he said softly, stepping aside to let you in. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as his arms opened, you crumbled into him. The second you felt his warmth and smelled the familiar scent of his cologne — something woodsy and comforting — you broke down completely. Your hands clutched at his hoodie as your sobs wracked your body.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it out.”

He gently guided you into the living room, keeping you close as he sat down on the couch and pulled you into his lap. His large hands rubbed soothing circles on your back while his other hand cradled the back of your head.

“I-I can’t do it anymore, Matt,” you finally managed to choke out between sobs. “She doesn’t see anything I do. She doesn’t care. She just — she just keeps tearing me down.”

“Who?” he asked softly, leaning back just enough to look at you. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Who’s tearing you down?”

“My mom,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “She said I don’t do anything, but I do everything. I worked this morning, cleaned the whole house, and then she asked me for money again — like she always does — and still told me I don’t pull my weight. It’s like… no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough for her.”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with anger. “That’s not fair. You work so hard, and she has no right to treat you like that. I’ve seen how much you do, how much you give. You’re amazing, and if she can’t see that, then that’s on her — not you.” he said, holding you tighter to him.

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks. “It just hurts, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything together, and she acts like I’m nothing but a burden.”

“You are not a burden,” he said firmly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Do you hear me? You are not a burden. You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She doesn’t deserve you.” he stated, making sure you knew his words were true.

“But she’s my mom,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I want to make her proud. I want her to see that I’m trying.” Matt’s expression softened, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know you do. But you don’t have to destroy yourself to earn someone else’s approval, especially hers. You’re enough just as you are, okay? You’re more than enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, fresh tears spilling over, but this time they weren’t just from sadness. There was something in his words, in the way he held you, that eased the tightness in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He shook his head, “You don’t have to thank me,” he said gently. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He adjusted you in his lap, tucking the blanket tighter around your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Listen, you’re staying here tonight. No arguments. I’m not letting you go back there like this.” he muttered against your temple.

“I don’t want to go back,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then you won’t,” he said firmly. “This is your home tonight, and for as long as you need it to be.”

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back, and his voice was soft when he spoke again.

“You know you’re not alone, right? You’ve got me. Always.”

You sniffled once more. “I know,” you whispered. “I just… I feel so unappreciated sometimes. Like nothing I do matters.” you could feel the self doubt settling into you now — from your mothers words earlier. Were you really not doing a good enough job?

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Everything you do matters to me. I see you, and I’m so proud of you. You’re doing more than anyone should ever have to, and you’re doing it so well.”

You looked up at him, your heart clenching at the sincerity in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

He hummed, “Of course I do,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it until you believe me. You’re incredible, and anyone who can’t see that is blind.” And a soft laugh escaped you, he grinned, his thumb brushing your cheek. “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname, and for the first time all day, the tightness in your chest began to ease. “Do you want to talk more about it, or do you just want to relax?” he asked gently. “Relax,” you said after a moment. “I’m too tired to think anymore.”

“Good call,” he said with a smile, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “How about something stupidly funny? Or do you want me to cook something for you first? I can make you those pancakes you like.” You shook your head, leaning into him. “Just stay with me.”

“Always,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

He put on some random comedy show, and you both sat in comfortable silence for a while. His hand never stopped tracing lazy patterns on your back, and every now and then, he’d drop a kiss to the top of your head. By the time you started to drift off, your body nestled against his, you felt a little lighter than you had in days.

© strnilolover

a/n : am i self projecting? maybe. but i’m not in that situation anymore and haven’t been for over a year. but please, if any of you are in this kind of situation, know that there is always a way out. don’t be afraid to ask for help. (i also wrote this on the bus without my glasses so i’m so sorry if some parts may not make sense)

[simpingforheros]

Lover Man

Pairing: Roy Harper X Single Mom! Female! Reader

Summary: Roy Harper gave up on love after his relationship with Cheshire never went anywhere other than creating his bundle of joy that was Lian Harper. That was until she came knocking on his door.

Warnings: 18+, Minors Do Not Interact, Female Reader/Female Pronouns/ Female Anatomy, Fluff eventually turning into Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Close Proximity, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Implied Abuse, Heavy Make-Out Session, Dry Humping, Implied Breeding Kink, Roy Harper being our Gentle King ((only this time)).

A/N: Soooo I had another Roy fanfic written completely in the drafts…and I hated it 💀. So I rewrote it and here it is. It’s a wee bit longer than my normal fanfics and I wanted to add more fluff and more descriptive detail instead of just smut. Please leave me some comments if you like this or if you don’t lol. Thank you.

A/N: I got my own ginger so it makes me wanna write about my second favorite ginger since I hardly see writing for him outside of him being a throuple with Jason. Roy Harper is just as hot as Jason because man’s literally got himself out of a bad place just for his daughter 😭🥹. Our responsibility king. Also Lian is aged up to 7 years old in this.

Dividers >>>> @cafekitsune

Roy Harper was a hardworking man. He slaves over his small mercenary missions with the occasional events of saving the city in the mix of raising a 4 foot ball of energy all on his own. He felt exhausted most the time, but that exhaustion keeps him out of trouble. It also gets him out of any venture for a personal life.

Sure, Roy had the Outlaws who would swing by after missions just to hangout and drink, and the Titans make a rare appearance to visit their favorite niece. Even Ollie and Dinah would occasionally come by to visit. But, after Jade came and left him high and dry, his heart was hollow…

Lian was his whole world and stars. He never thought he could love someone as much as he loved his little girl. He dragged himself out of his drug addiction just so he can take care of her, and she should be enough to make the backbreaking labor enough.

However, he notices how the doodled Mother’s Day cards that used to litter the fridge for Jade began to dwindle as her eyes began to look longingly at the other parents who had two parents and a pair or two of siblings. Lian says she’s happy to live with her Dad, who was her bestest friend in the world, but the occasional crayon drawings say otherwise.

The stick figures of Lian and Roy with a faceless woman and another stick figure child making it very clear that Lian wanted a mother figure, or at least a sibling.

Maybe one day Roy can give it to her…but right now he was too tired.

“What do you mean you forgot??” Roy yells into the phone as he speed walks back to his apartment complex.

He should have known better than to ask Garfield to wait at his apartment for Lian to come home and babysit for a couple of hours while he went grocery shopping. This week has been hell on him. He’s been dealing with some of Black Mask’s crew trying to expand to Star City and when he would try to get some sleep, the noise of some new neighbors moving in woke him up constantly. This was really his only chance to go do anything and Beast Boy forgot to come.

“I asked you to do one thing, Gar! Be here and watch Lian until I got back. How can forget to watch a 7 year old girl?” Roy seethes as he walks into the main lobby and bolting up the stairs.

His heart was pounding with all the possible scenarios. He knows he’s overreacting, that she was just probably sitting by the locked door either entertaining herself or crying. But he also couldn’t help but be paranoid that she strayed off to go find him or someone snatched her up.

His worst fear coming to reality as he walks onto his floor and sees no one. He quickly gets to his door and jiggles the nob, feeling the secured lock.

Just as Roy was about to scream at Garfield again to relieve the unrelenting anxiety, the sound of a door opening behind him catches his attention as a familiar ring fills the static.

“Daddy!” Lian yells as Roy turns around, relief filling his body as he kneels down to greet the girl.

“Oh fuck, you scared me.” He says, as he sighs in relief. His strong arms holding the small girl tight to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” the girl mumbles with sympathy pooling in her dark eyes. “I was walking Wren and she wanted me to see her new room.”

‘Wren? Who’s Wren?’ Roy thought as he quirks his eyebrow just as movement catches his eyes again to the door.

Another little girl was standing in the door way to the apartment. She looked the same age as Lian with colorful ribbons in her hair and the matching Star Academy uniform on as Lian.

‘Another Star Academy student? There isn’t any other student living here…’

Then the realization that this was one of the new neighbors hits him as a taller figure appears behind Wren. Her voice throwing Roy in a trance as she scolds the girl.

“Wren, I told you to not stare. Especially at strangers.” Her voice gently but protective as she kept her eyes on Roy. Her hand already on her daughter’s shoulder as her daughter apologizes.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I wanted to see Lian’s Dad and see if I can come over…”

The woman was the same age as him from what he can tell. Healthy, glowing skin despite the dark bags under her eyes. Her hair glowed like a halo in the fluorescent light of the hallway despite the messy frizz of what he thought used to be a protective hairstyle that her work day destroyed. Her boxy scrubs doing noting to hide her figure as the familiar logo of Star City General Hospital shined brightly.

“Dad.” Lian’s inpatient voice cuts through his daze as he looks to his daughter.

“Huh?” He says as his daughter giggles.

“I said, can I show Wren my room? I wanna show her all my Bluey toys.” She says excitedly.

His eyes briefly flickering over to the other excited little girl before stating gently, “I have no problem with it, but did you ask Wren’s mom if she can.”

“Yea! Miss (L/N) said it was alright.” She says happily.

‘Miss? I guess she’s not married…’ he thought as he handed Lian his keys with a joking quip, “Don’r throw a party while I’m over here talking to Miss (L/N).”

The girls giggle before running over to Roy’s apartment and entering. Roy stands up to his full height as he gives the mother a smile. She returns it with her own as she says,

“Normally Wren is pretty shy, so I was happy to see she made friends with a good kid.” She says as she pushes some stray hair out of her face before offering him her hand. “I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“Roy. Roy Harper.” He introduces himself as he shakes her hand. He couldn’t help but smile brighter as they pulled their hands away, proud that his daughter helped out a new kid.

“Lian doesn’t have much of a shy side to her. I blame it on her mom’s genetics.” He jokes with a soft chuckle.

“You and your wife must be proud.” She says softly as she props her hip against the doorframe.

“Oh no, I’m not married.” He corrects her as he nervously stuffs his hands in his pocket as he felt a pang of gloom over his heart. “It’s just me and Lian.”

Her eyes dropped as she crosses her arms over her chest as she mumbles, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume…”

“No, youre alright.” He assures her with a shrug. “Honestly, I should be apologizing for your first impression of me being my kid locked out of my apartment.”

She giggles as she waves him off as she says, “Lian told me that her normal babysitters weren’t in town and that ‘Uncle Gar’ was suppose to be here.”

“Yeaaa.” He groans as he defends himself. “I promise that i’m normally on top of the babysitting situation since I normally work nights.”

She nods as she says, “I understand. I have to find my own babysitter now that I moved across the country. I work days at the hospital.”

The idea seeming to strike them at the same time as both their little girls scream in delight as they play in the apartment over.

A compromise between two single parents.

The deal was easy and benefited both of them. Since she had to work 12 hour shifts on a 3 on, two off basis, (Y/N) would drop the girls off at school on her way to work, and Roy adjusted his “work” time so he can be home when they come home from school and babysit until Wren’s mom gets off from work.

When (Y/N) was off and Roy is working, She will keep both girls at her apartment and gets them ready for school in the mornings before they tag off.

During the rare occurrence that Roy had to go away on a “business trip”, the girls would just be with (Y/N) full time with Roy’s promise that it will only be a week and he will watch them when the weekend comes so she can rest.

This has been the routine for three months, and Roy enjoyed it more than he should. It felt great knowing that Lian was in capable, non vigilante hands when he was away and she had a female role model to who doesn’t fight crime in spandex.

Roy also adored Wren. She took a minute to break out of her shell, but she reminded him a lot of Jason. A quiet type who surprised him with her temper and mischief. He can see why (Y/N) is the kind of parent she is and how she easily keeps Wren and Lian in line.

Over the weeks, Wren and Lian became the dynamic duo of Star Academy. They did everything together and would cry if they couldn’t. The two even begged their respective parents for matching Bluey backpacks and sparkly shoes so they can match all the time. They even developed a cute habit of leaving colored drawings under the apartment doors for the other to find. The friendship was very heart warming and helped form the bond between their parents.

The two had a lot in common too. More than they expected.

“Wanna beer?” Roy offered as he stood up from the couch.

“No thank you.” She answers as she focuses on wrapping the present infront of her.

Tomorrow was Wren’s birthday, and while the girls are having a sleep over in Lian’s room, Roy and (Y/N) prepped for her birthday party.

“You sure, doll?” He says as he grabs a couple beers. He sits beside her and holds his open bottle near her as he jokes. “You gonna let me drink alone, and make me look depressed?”

Her eyes darken as she scoots away from him. The air turning cold as she snaps on him. “I said No, Roy.”

Roy immediately freezes before frowning in concern. He puts the beer on the coffee table as he whispers to her. “Hey, I’m sorry…”

Her eyes relax as her shoulders slump. She sighs softly as she mumbles. “No, I’m sorry…”

She reaches into her pocket a pulls out a familiar looking token and hands it to him. A 5 year sobriety coin. His brows shoot up as he looks at her in shock.

She giggles somberly as she says, “it’s not mine. It’s my Dad’s.”

She pulls her knees to her chest as she looks to the wall around the muted tv. Pictures lining the wall of Lian and Roy with some of just them or with friends. She smiles softly as she recounts.

“My dad was a bad alcoholic, but a good dad. He would take me with him everywhere he could and it would be like everyday was a good day. I was too young to realize he drank too much or he yelled at my mom a little too harshly.” She says as she picks at the material of her socked covered feet.

“It wasn’t until I got pregnant with Wren that he realized he had to sober up. He managed to stay clean for almost 6 years until a drunk driver hit him.” She chuckles sadly as she sees the irony in her dad’s death. “He even help me leave my ex who was also a bad drinker. I guess seeing my dad doing it my whole life, I thought it was normal…”

Her arms wrapping around herself before finally looking back at Roy. Her eyes meeting his green ones, her gaze watery as she wipes the tears away.

“I’m sorry, that was too much to put on you..” she said as her voice wavers a bit. “You can drink though I don’t-“

Roy gets up and takes his beers to the kitchen. Confused by his abruptness, she follows him, only to see him dumping out his open beer and starting to dump out the other one. She looks at him confused as he finishes dumping the liquid out before he pulls out his wallet and pulls out a coin.

He hands both coins to her as she reads the one he pulled out of his wallet. 7 years sobriety.

“You were…?” She mumbles is disbelief before he answers.

“Yep, former heroine addict…” he says as he leans back against the counter. His arms flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes shining with seriousness as he says,

“I understand why your dad got help. I did the same thing when I found out about Lian, and I don’t ever wanna do anything that can jeopardize giving her a better life than I had…”

An emotion crosses his face that makes her nervous but excited as he admits.

“And I don’t want to do anything that would drive you out of mine.”

“Please, (Y/N)!” Lian begs as Wren stands behind her with her puppy dog eyes shining behind her.

Those were the famous last words that were said when Lian and Wren convinced her to allow them to go to a slumber party while Roy was out of town. (Y/N) didn’t see the harm since it was Friday night and the girls had been good. Besides, Roy was supposed to be home late tonight so he can enjoy his Saturday morning resting.

It was a good idea. Or at least that’s what she thought before she got mugged on her way home from dropping off the girls.

The woman didn’t see it coming when she was snatched off the street and pinned to an alley wall as a disgust voice coos at her.

“Easy, Babygirl.” The masked man purrs as his dirty finger nails digged into her arms. “Just give me your purse and we can both walk away happy.”

“Fuck off!” She says as she tries to yank away from him .

“Now don’t be such a-!” His growl interrupted as the swoop of air shoots between them. She looks to where it lands and sees a red arrow buried into the wall behind them. The mugger was the first to look back to where it came from before gasping,

“Arsenal? What’s he doing here?” He curses as he pulls (Y/N) in front of him, making the struggling woman a human shield. “I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to hurt the bitch!” He says as he pulls out a knife and holds it to her neck.

(Y/N) only heard about the vigilante through the news. Apparently he used to be Green Arrow’s sidekick before he went solo for some reason and he was a rough guy. He works with the Red Hood who was known for killing criminals so she understood why the man was scared as a figure dropped down from a rooftop with his bow ready to shoot.

Her panic setting in as the bite of the blade was pressed hard to her neck, the anxious blade knicking her. Her panic eyes were set on the archer as she watches him slowly approach.

He looked…familiar. His height and built was impressive despite him being more on the leaner side and his features not obstructed by his sunglasses and hat reminded her of Roy…

“Let the girl go.” Arsenal warns the burglar. His voice was deep, but it didn’t sound natural. It was like he was trying to make his voice sound different. “You’re just pissing me off more and I’m gonna end up breaking your eye socket in.”

The criminal trembles before deciding the best escape plan. He grabs ahold of her purse before throwing her in Arsenal’s direction. Unprepared to the violent shove, (Y/N) falls to the ground before the vigilante can catch her. Her yelp filling space as the hero kneels down beside her to make sure she wasn’t stabbed.

“Hey, you alright?” He says as he scans her body for any serious injury.

She pushes herself up, cringes as her wrist throbs. His large gloved hands on her back and shoulder as he helps her stand when she notices his exposed arm. A familiar faded green tattoo visible on his bicep as the pieces fall together.

“Roy?…” She asks as she looks up Arsenal. Despite his eyes being covered, she can tell he was looking at her in a panic that she figured him out.

“Yea…” He confirms before looking behind her as he realizes the motherfucker stole her purse. He pulls his aviators down to the bridge of his nose, his eyes shining in concern as he mumbles to her.

“Go home. I’ll meet you there so we can talk about it.”

The look in his eyes and the pounding adrenaline makes her fear melt away as she nods her head.

“Okay.”

The throbbing pain in her wrist didn’t stop when she finally made it back to her apartment building, acting as her anchor as the revelation that Roy’s secret night job was him being a Robin Hood copycat.

Thinking back on it, she should have figured he wasn’t a normal guy. Constant bruises, noticeable limps, and stolen ibuprofen were a routine in their life.

The thought made her stop for a second in the stair way.

Their life. The one they shared for months basically together. At first it was just two single parents helping each other out while their daughters bonded. Then her and Roy began to get close, close enough to where they were constant in each other’s apartments as the other child was.

Now he saved her life…maybe he already did that the first day in the city and she babysat a kid she didn’t know…

As she reaches the arch way between the two apartments, her hands searches her pockets for her keys when disappointment answers her.

The keys were in her purse.

With a sigh, she decides to sit on the ground besides Roy’s door as she waits. (Y/N) curls herself into a ball with her knees to her chest as she felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion nipping her eyelashes.

(Y/N) was a hard working woman. When she wasn’t working herself like a dog in the Emergency Room, she was handling a 4 foot ball of attitude. She didn’t have time for any ventures outside of that. She loves Wren with all her heart, but that doesn’t help the hollow part of her heart from throbbing…maybe someday she can give Wren a father who’s worth something. But right now, she was too damn tired.

The door opens behind her as she jumps awake. The woman didn’t even realize she almost fell asleep, but a warm hand opens in front of her as she looks up.

Roy was standing in front of her now. A grey zip up was pulled over his shoulders to cover his costume as her purse hanged on his arm. His soft smile made her stomach flutter as he breaks the silence.

“I guess I got some explaining to do…”

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead she gives him her hand and stands up with his help. Her injured wrist cradled to her chest as they enter the apartment. The movement still felt natural despite the circumstances. Roy didn’t even have to ask about her arm to know she needed first aid on her wrist.

He tended to her sprained wrist as he tells her his life story. She already knew about the general events of his childhood and his life with Oliver Queen, but didn’t know he was a sidekick turned mercenary. The whole story made her head spin as she thought about the man tending to her as a boy wearing yellow and red spandex and managing to attract a female assassin who was Lian’s actual mother…

“So…” Roy says as he expects some sort of reaction out of her.

“So… You are a vigilante…Ollie and Dinah are too.” She recounts as she rubs her bandaged wrists. “And your ex is an assassin…”

(Y/N) sighs before looking at the nervous ginger fidgeting in his seat. His nerves were haywire.

‘What if she leaves?’

‘What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me or Lian anymore?”

‘Is she gonna keep Wren from Lian and Me?’

“Okay”

The phrase makes Roy’s neck snap was he blinks wildly at her. His heart pounding as he scans her completely calm face with a soft smile on her face as she giggles at his baffled expression.

“Okay? That’s all you gotta say?”

“I mean sure I’m not a fan of the whole putting yourself in danger shtick, but if that’s the only downside to you, then I’m okay with it.” She says calmly before giving him a serious glare. “Just as long as the girls are never endangered.”

Roy couldn’t help but fall out of his chair and on his knees infront of her as he laughs. His hands pulling her into his lap as he enjoys the chill of relief as his body yearns for the reassurance of her touch. It wasn’t until he cupped her face that he realized just how intimate their position was.

Definitely not something friends should be doing….

But are they just friends?

“Roy…” She mumbles. Her eyes speaking to his soul as the exhaustion and months of connecting and yearning reach the apex. Or maybe it was the reflection of his own feelings bubbling up as he moves her hair away from her face.

“I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you or our girls…I can’t afford to lose them…or us.”

The first move wasn’t clear. The blur of teeth and tongue distracting him as their hands held the pair close. His hands adjusting her to straddle his lap as hers ran through his hair and over his strong shoulders. His mouth trailing down her jawline and caresses her throat as her hips began to grind into his.

“Aw, poor thing…” Roy coos as his hips rolled to meet hers. His eyes shining with adoration as he marks her smooth skin. “How long has it been since anyone took care of you?”

She rolls her eyes at his teasing before pulling his head back by his hair. “When was the last time you got took care of, Red?”

He glares playfully with a smirk as he says, “Don’t call me Red.”

She giggles as she presses a soft kiss to his cheek before trailing along his jawline. Her breath burning his soul as she whispers, “Then how about…baby?”

He rips her back away by her nape before crashing his lips onto hers. The desperation dewing the walls around them as their soft moans and movement of clothes made their company.

His hands hungry as he finally pulls away from her long enough to push off her sweatshirt. A groan of appreciation fills the space as he admires her body. Every visible scar, freckle, mole, stretch mark, and roll made him want to explore every story that lead her to his arms. But that’s for another time.

His mouth watered as he looks back up at her.

“So pretty, Ma…”

His prayer is followed by his mouth devouring her skin as he kisses her collarbone. Her feathery moans filling the space while his hands caresses her exposed torso. He trails down to the valley of her breasts before pushing the offending bra up so they spill out. Roy couldn’t resist kissing around her sensitive skin, teasing her as her hands tangle in the mess of ginger on his head.

“Baby please…” she whines as her hips roll impulsively on his.

Her underwear was impossibly uncomfortable. Her body burning like iron as her intimate parts tried to cool down. The friction of her jean covered core against the rough tackle gear of his suit did not help as his hand began to grope her other breast.

His chuckle vibrates against the globe of fat as his fingers pinch the stiffening nub.

“Can’t wait to get me in bed? My, you certainly are a romantic.”

Before she can shoot back at him, he withdraws completely from her chest and his hands roughly cup her thighs. In a swift motion, Roy picks her up as he stands up from the floor. The pair share a soft laugh as her brief shock and his amusement leads them to his bedroom.

Once he places her on the bed, (Y/N) sheds off her sweatshirt and bra as Roy whistles in appreciation.

“I love when you strip for me.” He jokes as lust clouded his vision. “Can you do that again but slower?”

She glares at him as she leans back onto her hands as she tilts her head. Mischief fills her eyes as she examines him up and down with her lip between her teeth.

“Then how about you put a show on for me since you want one?” She teases.

His smirk widens as he decides to follow her suggestion. Roy rolls his shoulders back before reaching to slowly unzip the jacket covering his suit. Making a show of pulling it off his arms before twirling it over his head and tossing it.

Laughing follows his movements as he slowly strips off his gear as her hungry and amused eyes followed every rolling muscle exposed to her.

“Damn…” She whispers as a nearly nude Roy begins to crawl on the bed towards her. His prominent bones straining against his boxers as she continues. “And I wondered why you didn’t have a girlfriend…”

He laughs as he cages her in his arms. His ginger hair acting as a curtain over his forehead as he shrugs above her. “Maybe I was waiting on the right one.”

Their lips meet again as their hands began to map out each other. Soon all the rest of the clothes joined the floor.

His erection bobbing between them as his eyes remains trained on hers. His fingers trailing down to her exposed sex, groaning as he runs a finger between her folds.

“Already wet? And without foreplay?” He asks as faux sympathy plays on his face. “My darling clearly neglected that she gets wet from a few kisses…”

“I’m not neglected…” She protests before she whimpers as the bite from his finger entering her unused cunt hits her.

“I wasn’t talking body you directly, baby.” He corrects as his finger thrusts softly along her fleshy walls. The lewd sounds of her moans mixed with her wet sex made him melt as she begs,

“Fuck…quit teasing already, you bastard…”

He decides to oblige by adding another finger to speed up his pace. The thumb on the other hand joining the fun as it rubbed patterns into her puffy clit.

“I got get you all nice and ready..” Roy mumbles as he leans down to press soft kisses on her stomach up to her breasts. The mixture of gentle pecks mixed with the harsh stimulation below driving his lover insane as her hips arched to meet his hands.

“You deserve all that I can give for being such a good mom .” He praises her as he feels her walls clench around his knuckles when he finds the spongy mass he was searching for.

He contradicts himself by abusing that with archer like precision as the coil roughly tightens in her gut. (Y/N)’s gasps and cries desperate for the climax as she grips the hard flesh of his back. Just as she was reaching the peak, he stops.

“Asshole!” She curses at him as he pulls out of her. He chuckles before licking the tip of his soiled finger. Her eyes burning onto his mouth as he groans at the taste.

“Sweet as I thought..” he praises as he uses the hand to pump his cock. He climbs on top of her as he continues. “I’m gonna have to have a better taste next time, but I need you too bad right now…”

She calms her raging breaths as she smiles softly. “Next time?”

Roy pulls her legs up to her chest as he hooks her ankles on his shoulders. His red hot tip played with her clit as he rubs it through her soaked folds. He chuckles at her hopeful voice as he leans down to press a soft peck to her lips.

“Of course,” Roy whispers as his tip catches the entrance. “I don’t think I can go back to being friends after this..”

He slowly pushes into her as her hands shoot onto him as best she could. With her legs pinned to her chest, she can only grasp his bicep and his lower back as she is forced to endure the painful stretch of her neglected cunt welcoming him.

A groan ripping in his throat as he finally seats himself fully into her before peppering kisses on her face.

“Was gonna ask you out on a nice date without the kids around…gonna see if we would be a good fit.” He mutters as his mind seems to run on blanks. His hips rolling to gain some friction in the tight confines of her walls.

Her little breathless moans encouraging him as Roy begins to thrust shallowly to work her open before he pulls out almost completely. He slams back into her befor continuing his non coherent comment.

“But fuck…I don’t regret this. God, if I knew you would look so fucking hot in my bed…” He groans as his head dips to bite along her neck. “And your pussy is so tight…It’s driving me crazy. I wonder how a sweet thing like you could like me…”

His cock messaging all the right nerves in her as (Y/N)’s nails clawed into him. Her moans turning to incoherent shrieks as his tip abuses her spot, remembering exactly where it was when he found it earlier. Her guts twisting at both the words and his abusing pace. The denied orgasm from earlier building back up as her desperation grew wilder.

“God, Roy…So full…so good.”

Fuck she looked pretty. Her lips wet with tears and sip as she cries. Her eyes blown out in addictive lust and watery tears. Roy couldn’t help but cup her jaw in his hand and kisses her. The now familiar taste of mint and nicotine making her more addicted as his tongue claimed every inch of hers. He pulls away as his groans start matching her whines as his hand snakes between them to rub her clit.

“Honey, I may have to fuck a baby into you…” He mumbles as he buries his face in her neck. Her walls responding in a vice grip as he roughens his pace to meet their impending climax. “You like that, pretty girl? Want me to knock you up and give Wren and Lian a little sibling? Give you a nice big family with a white picket fence? God, you’re such a sweet thing that I wouldn’t mind keeping you as my pretty little girlfriend…”

“Roy!” She whines as her body shakes. Her walls closing in on him as she finally reaches her peak. Her eyes rolling back as stars cross her vision before Roy slams into her one more time as his hot cum fills her welcoming womb.

The pair remain still for a moment as soft pecks were exchange. Roy gently pulls out before he helps his love stretch back out. His hands massaging her thighs before grabbing his abandoned jacket to wipe her thighs and himself clean.

“You wanna go out tomorrow?” Her cracked voice catching the archer off guard before he smiles.

“With or without children?”

“Without. They are at a sleep over and gonna go to the zoo tomorrow with their friends.”

“Then it’s a date.”

A/N: Okay I didn’t know how to end this because Ngl I was tired on working on this tbh. I hope y’all enjoyed reading this and let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs are encouraged.

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE MY WORKS TO BE STOLEN, PLAGIARIZED, COPIED, REPOSTED, OR TRANSFERRED ONTO OTHER BLOGS, ACCOUNTS, AND WEBSITES.

[gobitobi]

Rodrick x fem or gen reader

Just some bf/relationship head cannons (and maybe some drabbles you have for him..🤗)

and ur intro is soo real making gear is so fun hard work but yk! 💗

RAAAAHH A RODRICK ASK 👹 here’s a little drabble i wrote for him a while ago, i can do a list of headcanons though soon if you want :]

enjoy!!!!

so we all know he’s not great around the people he likes, like accidentally embarrassing himself with the stuff he does or says

but when he’s talking to you about his band, he accidentally fumbles and goes “our number one song is called ‘exploded diper’”

right when he knows he slipped up, you start laughing and say “sounds like a song i’d put on repeat!”

since then he’s absolutely SMITTEN by you. he found the one who can handle his bs 😍

one day he asks you out, but he doesn’t exactly SAY that he wants to take you on a date, he just comes up to you and goes “plainview’s annual fair is opening on friday, wanna go? you and me?” and when you ask who else is going he gets all flustered and says “well, i just thought you and i could go and spend some time together! you know? get to know each other a bit more without the boys around!” but you see RIIIGHT THROUGH HIM 😭 (he’s oblivious it’s adorable)

so when that day comes around, he’s obviously super nervous.

first thing he proposes when you enter the fair is playing the games!

so he goes up to one of the game booths where he’s given three darts and he has to throw them at the balloons in order to win a prize

he does miss the first two but gets the last one!! that earns him a little beanie baby cat. he hands it to you. “i don’t really have a purpose for this,” he says nervously. you smile and thank him, moving on.

you end the night with him driving you back to your place in his löded diper van, blasting heavy metal

he pulls up to the front of your house. it’s dark outside, you’ve been out for about 6 hours at this point. it’s way past your curfew.

you’re just about to get out of the van when rodrick grabs your wrist, stopping you. “wait, i, uhm…” he starts, but his voice trails off. he just stares at you. his grip on your wrist loosens. “actually, never mind. goodnight, [name.]” he sets his hands back on the wheel and looks forward.

you suddenly feel a surge of confirdence come over you. before you hop out of the car,  you grab his chin between your thumb and pointer finger and pull him towards you, kissing him lovingly for a few seconds. you pull back and smile. “good night, rodrick. thanks for taking me out,” you say before you hop out of the van and walk to your door.

he’s STUNNED. the whole drive back to his house seems like forever because he can barely focus on the road.

you… just kissed him. you, the person he had been crushing on since he first laid eyes on you. you made the first move. god, it was a dream come true for him.

he comes into his house with a stupid grin on his face. “welcome home, Rodrick, how was the fair?” susan asks. she’s in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. rodrick just says, “oh, uhm… it was great. had a great time. i’m tired now, so i’m gonna go to sleep. good night mom.” he kicks his shoes off at the door and darts up the stairs to his room.

at the top of the stairs, greg stands outside of his room with his arms crossed. the brothers make eye contact for a few seconds before greg speaks. “you kissed [name,] didn’t you?” he asks. rodrick lets out a grunt as his response as he stomps into the attic, aka his room.

for the rest of the night, he lays in bed, unable to sleep. he’s SO excited to see you again. to kiss you again.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Goodbye!

Previous fantape:

Sophie stares at the tape she now needs to watch and suddenly it hits her. Crap. Riley was supposed to introduce me. They had already agreed not to message when Riley was gone unless it was an emergency, just in case Hameln could use it to track their location somehow. I… guess I’m going into this on my own then… oh boy… don’t panic Sophie don’t panic. First impressions are important. Oh boy… she stares at the tape for a bit and then gently picks it up. UGH RILEY! I don’t mind if you put me in danger, but don’t put me in awkward social situations! Of course, nothing was going to happen if she kept wallowing in anxiety. OKAY! I just gotta go for it! Now or never! Nerves be gone! She shoves the tape into the VCR and it begins to play. 

“Hi friends, I’m-” Amanda stops immediately, “Who the heck are you?” So we’re doing this immediately. Okay. Sophie thinks. 

“Hi the-there! I’m Sophie, um Riley’s girlfriend. It’s very nice to meet you!” 

“Hi Sophie! I’m Wooly!” Wooly grins. “It’s very nice to meet you t-” “Where’s Riley?” Amanda demands. 

“Um… Riley’s out right now… gathering some more of the tapes-” 

“I told them not to do that! It’s dangerous! Why didn’t they listen?!” Amanda snaps, stomping her foot. 

“Because they care about you…”

“I care about them too! That’s why I told them to stop!” 

“I get how you feel… It is dangerous. I mean, believe me, I really do want to help you but… I’m worried that maybe they’re being… reckless about this. They’re in a panic… a rush… trying to gather every tape before Hameln can. But… mmm…” 

“I can’t believe this… I know I told them to go but… not because I never wanted to see them again.” Amanda cries. 

“Don’t worry Amanda… you’ll see Riley again.” Sophie says gently. This poor kid… I wish I could just give her a big hug…

“How do you know that?” 

“Because they promised me… and Riley has never ever broken a promise. That and… I gave them a special kiss of protection… so I’m sure they’ll be safe.” Please be safe Riley… don’t make me a liar. 

“That stuff is all fake. It won’t work.” Amanda pouts. 

“I guess you’re right,” Sophie sighs, “that’s why you have to tell people what you mean when they are here.” 

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.” Amanda whimpers, “I don’t want them to die… like Kate and the others…” 

“And Riley knows that. That’s why they’re gonna be careful.” Sophie smiles. 

“Didn’t you just say you thought they were being reckless?” Amanda points out.

“Well… yes… maybe…” Sophie laughs nervously, “But Riley’s got a good head on their shoulders I’m sure they won’t do anything too dangerous. I… hope…” 

“Very reassuring lady.” Amanda scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

“Well until they get back, you’re stuck with me! So can we please be friends?”

“How do I know I can trust you?” Amanda asks. 

“Well… Riley trusts her right?” Wooly points out. Amanda still looks unsure. 

“Fine, you can stick around. But I still don’t trust you, got it?” 

“Understood.” Sophie says cheerfully Good enough for now, I suppose. “Why don’t we start over? I’m Sophie. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Amanda. Well I used to be Rebecca Colton.” Amanda sighs. 

“Oh we’re… giving her our old names too?” Wooly asks awkwardly. “Oh- okay… um I’m Wooly. I used to be William Scott but… that was a looong time ago heh heh…” 

“I hope we can become really good friends!” Sophie grins. 

“Me too!” Wooly beams. Amanda rolls her eyes. 

“Yay! We’re going to play so much together!” Sophie cheers. 

“What do you mean?” Amanda asks. 

“I mean… I have about 10 tapes here that my mom left behind.”

“And Riley’s going to be watching some… right?” 

“Probably when they get back. Till then you’ll just have to stick with me.” Sophie giggles. Amanda. Looks. Horrified. Suddenly, the whole room around Sophie changes. She quickly looks behind her. The ten tapes that she had on the table are now gone. “Wha- What did you do?!” Sophie says in a panic. 

“I hid them! If you wanna watch them you’ll have to solve my puzzles and find them.” 

“Oooh, interesting. Like a game? Sounds fun. I can play your games.” 

“Eh?” 

“Oooooh! Riley was right! This will be so much fun!” she giggles, “Ah! But make sure you keep them in this shelter where they’ll be safe! Riley worked really hard to get them away from Hameln you know! Don’t make their efforts go to waste.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

“Hmm… So what are we going to play first?” 

“Yeah Amanda, what’s our first adventure?” Wooly asks excitedly, dancing around a bit. 

“Why are you so excited?” Amanda scoffs. “Well, now we have two new friends right? And they’re gonna help us get out of here!” 

“I would kill to have your optimism Wooly.” 

“Heh heh.”

“Soooooo?” Sophie prompts. 

“You know, Riley almost always stayed quiet unless I asked them a question. So how about you do the same?” Amanda tells her. 

“Amanda…” Wooly pouts.

“Noted. Lips sealed starting now!” Sophie nods, making a zipping motion over her mouth. 

“That said… I have no idea… this episode… really doesn’t have a theme anymore if Riley’s gone.” Amanda sighs. 

“Uh… I know! Why don’t we get to know each other?” Wooly asks. “For example… What's your favorite fruit? Mine’s peaches.” 

“I like apples. Now you?” Sophie types in cherry. “Ew I don’t like those.” Excuse me? Cherries are the best! Sophie wants to refute. “Next up, what kind of stories do you like?” Sophie types in Romance. “I like tragedy!”  Oooooh… romantic tragedies are awesome too. Sophie thinks.

“I… don’t like tragedy.” Wooly responds. “I prefer stories with happy endings.” Yeah those are nice too. As long as it’s realistic. 

“This is sooooo boring!” Amanda groans. 

“I mean, we can end the tape now if you’re done for the day. I have some homework to do anyway.” 

“I thought you and Riley were adults?” Wooly questions. 

“And I thought I told you not to talk unless I ask you a question!” Amanda scolds. 

“We are adults. I’m getting my associates degree in child care online so I can run my own daycare center someday.” 

“Must be nice… to have dreams like that.” Amanda sighs.  

“Well you better start dreaming now, because we’re gonna get you out of there and into the real world!” Sophie beams. 

“See Amanda, I told you this was a good thing!” Wooly grins. “Oooh… I wonder what I’d do…” 

“You better start dreaming now!” Sophie smiles. 

“I stopped dreaming long ago.” Amanda grumbles and ends the tape. Well… that could’ve gone better. Sophie thinks to herself But I guess it’s true that trust takes time. Even if Riley did introduce me, it wouldn’t mean that Amanda would trust me right away. She whips out her notepad. Now let’s see what I learned… 

Amanda = Rebecca Colton. Wooly = William Scott. Riley already told me this, but it’s good to have written notes. 

Amanda can change the locations of objects surrounding the tv. She really caught me off-guard with that. 

Amanda wants me to stay quiet unless she asks a question. Kind of rude but okay.

Wooly likes peaches. Amanda likes apples. Amanda does not like cherries. We are tolerant of other opinions even when they are objectively wrong.

Amanda likes tragic stories, Wooly likes happy ones. 

Amanda stopped dreaming long ago… Poor kid. Wooly seems to have more hope. But Riley says he tends to act positive for Amanda’s sake so that could just be a facade. 

“Interesting…” Sophie says, tapping her pencil against her chin. “Now let’s find that next tape!”

Authors note: Well, there's the end of part 2! I feel like this fic was kind of short. Anyway, most of part 3 will probably be happy stuff. So look forward to it! I hope you enjoy Sophie's character!

[lygma-nygma]

Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.

[sea-jello]

hong kong miku,,,

[toddtakefive]

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

[godblooded]

the way i have no one to grieve with and it’s fucking killing me slowly.

[thechaotichorselord]

[whoblewboobear]

Staring down that weird feeling of feeling like too much or out of place or annoying if I say too much or say things too loud or too off-putting to be like- WANTED in any given social situation. To try so hard to socialize just to- idk. I’d very much like to stop defaulting to that scared kid that was pushed away or talked over until I got old enough and desperate enough to say any and every rapid fire thought that comes to mind. Like filling space when there’s dead air then wondering if maybe I did the Too Much™️ thing again and A. Scared everyone away or B. Pushed everyone away so it would hurt less when they leave BC of A.

Of feeling like I need to be useful or smart or talented or pretty or SOMETHING worthwhile so people want me around. I can just be but then it’s like just being has never been enough for anyone to like- stay. Or care. Running is always a mistake bc it’s like riiiight.. no one noticed you ran, babe. You’re not even at the top of their list people to want around. And just feel so low about it that I talk myself into feeling miserable again.

I’m happy, ive been so much happier lately and i dont take it for granted bc it’s so rare that things go okay or that there’s a sense of peace for a moment. I’m creating again and im less hard on myself about it. I have hobbies again, I’m making friends. And still I’m like seeing the other foot start to drop in real time bc it’s like. You’re in, but are you? That constant nagging voice that sounds so much like my own going “lonely again? Good you deserve it”

[zippityzap]

Vampire lady that appeared in my dream last night