#i don’t want to visit! i don’t want to talk!

[sage-the-dragon]

(Hi, so this is in Jason’s POV with GN!reader. I hope you enjoy… this is my first time actually writing Jason so yay. Um warnings include allusion to potential suicide at the end, and reader becomes an aunt/uncle in one of the letters. Other then that it’s just Jason dealing with emotions 🙃)

The night was quiet except for the police sirens echoing throughout the city. The night was so quiet that I decided I would take off the helmet and be alone with my thoughts. A dangerous concept that I never really allowed myself to divulge into.

As I rode through the streets, letting my bike take me wherever it wanted, all my thoughts seemed to continuously circle back to them. Their laughter, their smile, all the small things that we did together before… I shook my head slightly, increasing the revs, it doesn’t matter now. They’ve moved on, they’ve forgotten me. And, it’s probably for the best.

I tried to think of anyone else, anything else. The lastest drug traffic, what black mask was up too. Anything. The hurt of being forgotten clawed at my heart, tearing its way into my chest. Tears filled my vision and I pulled off the road. Kicking the kickstand and turning off my bike, I practically through my helmet off. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, my body ragged with emotion of my past life. My life before what he turned me into.

I looked up and around at where I was. Freezing, I saw the overgrown rusted sign reading ‘Gotham Cemetery’. Well, I suppose I couldn’t have stayed away forever. Sighing, I made the choice to visit my grave. Trudging along the unkept, loose gravel pathway, hands in my pockets and jacket zipped up, I walked towards the barren area of my grave.

I stopped in my tracks, someone was there. Was that… are they at my grave? Faint sniffles and talking could be heard, but I couldn’t make any of it out. I side stepped to a pillar of a gravestone, hiding behind it. I don’t know exactly why I did that, I suppose I wanted to see what this person was going to do without scaring them off. I watched from the distance, as the mysterious person placed something down, a hoodie concealing their features. I continued to watch them as they stood up. As they turned to walk away, a glimpse of moonlight struck their features.

“Y/N,” I whispered. They were here… they were visiting my grave. I- I wasn’t forgotten. I nearly slapped myself for even thinking that they could have forgotten me. Never cared for me. They were too kind for that, too thoughtful, too loving…

I watched as they walked away, hands in their pockets. As they exited the cemetery, I ran wandered over there.

There it is. ‘Jason Peter Todd’ ‘A Good Soldier’.

But below the ‘heartfelt’ writing, was a seemed to be fresh bunch of red roses and a sturdy looking box, a metal box that appeared to be waterproof. Looking around the grave yard for anyone, I opened the box. Inside was piles upon piles of letters. Each addressed to… me.

So of course I did the respectful thing and opened all of them. One by one. Reading all of them.

“To my dearest Jason,

I miss you so much. Not a day nor a second goes by where I do not think about you. Now does it result in my crying most of the day, yes. But I’m okay with that. If I could trade all my tears, all my book collections, all my memories before you just to bring you back to me, I would. You were are the dearest thing in the world to me, my most perfect boy, and nothing can ever change that.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

Tears pricked my eyes as I closed the letter just to open another one.

“To my darling Jason,

I went to school today. I haven’t been for a while because of… well, your departure. But I went today! The classes were boring, English made me think of you. Our friends say I’m not my usual self, but who can blame me. I only lost you 2 months ago. The wound is still fresh. But I know you would want me to continue school, get an education in this world, to take care of my self. It will be hard, but I know it will be worth it in the end. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, someday.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

Each letter recited their day to me. It was like I was there, having them come home to me and telling me every little thing they did that day. Like I was watching them do it. A smile was plaster on my face as tears were streaming down my face. I barely noticed except for the few drops that landed on the paper. I was so incredibly happy, yet so incredibly sad. They didn’t forget me, they love me. Anger tore through me, I can’t believe that fucker took me away from them. But I continue reading. New emotions tearing through me with each day or week that I read. New boyfriend? Instant no, turns out that they broke up after a week. Good, still single then.

A twinge of guilt hit me as I though that as I closed the letter. They should be happy. They deserve to be happy, I shouldn’t be happy that a relationship didn’t work out because it wasn’t with me.

I continued on reading all night and into the early morning.

“To the love of my life that will forever have my heart,

I became an aunt/uncle (I’m sorry I don’t know a gender neutral term 😭) today!! I have a beautiful nephew named Ben. I’m so happy, he’s so cute and already curious for the world. He reminds me of you actually. I was a crying mess when I held him in my arms for the first time. My sister is so happy but recovering from the birth. I wish you could meet him. As I wish on every single shooting star I see, somehow wishing you back into existence with me. To have everything how it should be. You and me together.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

As the sun’s rays started to bless the dark Gotham sky, glistening on my tear streaked face and soppy grin. I came to the last letter. The letter that they just put here today, or I suppose yesterday now.

“To my precious boy,

I love you with all my heart, and I will never stop. But times are getting hard and all I want in life is to see you again. I know it’s bad. I know I should go talk to someone, but non of them understand. Except for Dick, I see him every fortnight when he comes up to Gotham from Bludhaven. I don’t long for anything on this earth anymore than I long for your arms around me again. Your scent to envelope me again. All your clothes have lost your scent, your room in the manor is losing it too.

No one understands me like you do Jay. Every new relationship that my friends nudge me towards fail because I’m looking for you. Your caring nature, your love for classic literature, your passion for fighting for those that can’t fight for themselves. I miss you too much, and I have tried so hard these past 2 years… I know you must be disappointed in me. But you’ve surely seen me struggle these past years without you.

I love you so so much, I hope you can forgive me when we meet again very soon.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

My eyes widened as I finished the letter. My brain short circuited, not computing what I just read. They were- no I can’t let that happen. I shoved the letter back into the box with the others and ran to my bike.

No one could save me. But I damn well as going to save them.

Please Y/N, I love you too. Every wish you made has come true. I’m here now, just wait a little longer. I memorised their current address from 2 of the letters they had written. I didn’t care for the road rules, the street signs, the speed limits. I was getting them before we had a reverse Romeo and Juliet.

jason todd x reader where the reader still presumes he’s dead and visits his grave every week to give him a letter because they used to communicate through letters for fun to the point where his grave has boxes of letters. meanwhile, jason thinks reader forgot about him until he visits his own grave to see reader dropping off another letter and after they leave he takes the time to read each letter they’ve left since he died and gets emotional. okay, goodnight !

[destinyisastar]

HII are ur requests open? I love ur writing style sm that I actually wanted to requesthswiwjwo it's my first time,, Can I request a platonic Alastor x toddler!daughter where she was his biological daughter when he was alive but she died first due to being murdered(due to some enemies of alastor that were jealous of him)? And like, after many decades, he and Charlie visits heaven right?? What if he spots his little girl, but she doesn't recognize him because of his demon form ? 🥹

Dearly Departed

Thank you for my third ever request!!! I'm sorry this took a while the election lowkey made me have a breakdown. I'm very happy with how this turned out!

Alastor x Toddler Daughter Reader (PLATONIC!!!)

Summary: A look into the past life with Alastor and his beloved little girl that he holds most dear. However, when her life is taken far too soon, Alastor is given the chance to see her once more.

Warning!!: child death

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

Another day has just begun, the sun was shining its morning hue, birds were flapping their wings as they gather breakfast for their chicks, quite like how Alastor was doing right now.

The sizzling of the bacon is music to his ears as he looks towards the stairs. “Sweetheart?!” Alastor yells, “Come down and get your breakfast!” He hears the pitter patter of feet running on the floorboards. “Don’t run in the house my dear!” He calls once more.

Eventually you make it down the stairs, “Sorry papa!” You hold your hair ribbon in your hand as Alastor looks down at you with your hair in disarray.

“What on earth have you done to your hair!?” He turns the knob off the stove and bends down to your level, “Now, now this won’t do!” Alastor shakes his head, “Come along now darling.” He picks you up and goes back to your room upstairs.

Alastor sets you down on your chair by the vanity, grabbing your brush and tending to your hair.

“This papa! I want this on my hair!” You show him your red hair ribbon, “Please!!”.

“I’ll see what I can do!”

You giggle as he kisses your cheek.

 “Almost done now cher!” Alastor puts the final touch on your hair by placing the ribbon he recently bought you. Lately all you been doing is requesting that he put that ribbon on you. “I love, love, love this ribbon papa! I want to wear it forever and ever!” you had said to him when he showed you.

Alastor smooths down your hair one final time, “There you are! All done! Can’t having you look all messy now, can we?” He laughs.

“Thank you, papa!” You jump off the chair and race down the stairs.

“No, no my dear what have I said about running in the house? You could fall!”

“Whoops sorry papa!” You stand at the end of the stairs, “I’m just happy today!” Alastor picks you up again.

“And why is that my dear?” He walks towards the dining table and places you in your seat.

“My teacher says we get to go on a trip today!” Alastor finishes up the meal he was cooking, for you, two pancakes with a slice of bacon and side of scrambled eggs for him… just a cup of coffee.

“Really now, why was I not made aware of this?” He places the plate in front of you.

You shovel some of the eggs into your mouth, “I did-“

“Don’t talk with your mouth full darling.” He hands you a napkin as you drink your water.

“I did tell you papa! And you signed the papers on Tuesday remember!?”

Ah yes, he does remember signing something for you. “Where is your teacher taking you again my child?”

You take the slice of bacon in you hand, “She said that we are going to be looking at the.. the flowers and rocks for our science class in forest where that big”, You take a bite out of the bacon, “bridge is.”

“My that sounds like it will be a lovely trip.”

“Mhmmm!” You finish up your meal, “Thank you for the food papa!”

Your books were already ready at the door by the table since Alastor knows you might forget them, “Wash your hands my dear!”

“Okay!”

Alastor laughs slightly as he sees you scurry off to the sink while holding your books in his hands.

“All done papa!” You reach for his hand.

“Are you sure you have everything you need my dear?”

“Mhmm! Gots everything!” You tell him while jumping slightly on your tip toes.

Alastor takes your hand as you both walk to his vehicle, placing you in your seat then taking his.

“Now my dear, when you get to that forest, I want you to stay by your teachers side no matter what.” Alastor looks at you in rearview mirror. “Don’t you go anywhere without telling anyone.”

“I won’t!” You say while kicking your feet.

Alastor parks the car by the school, steps out and picking you up placing you in his arms.

“Look, look there’s my teacher! Oh! Look papa, there’s Jamie! Hi Jamie!!” You wave your hand to your friend.

“Yes, yes I do see them my dear.” You start to wiggle in his arms. “But you do remember what we talked about in the car, hmmmm?”

“Yes I remember papa.. I will stay by the teacher and….. I’ll…”

“You will tell someone where you are going.”

“Yes! I’ll tell someone where I am going!”

“Good girl.” He places you down in front of the school doors.” I love you my darling.” He kisses your forehead.

“Love you too papa!!” You hug him one final time, “Bye papa!” You wave him goodbye as you catch up with your friends.

“Goodbye my darling! I’ll be here to pick you up as soon as school is out!

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

As Alastor drives away he fails to notice two men watching him closely or more importantly watching his daughter.

“That’s him, right?” asks the one with blonde hair.

The one next to him breaths out smoke, “Yeah that’s the fucker.”

“Shouldn’t we follow him?”

“No.” The man taps his cigar on the window.

“Why the hell not?”

“We are going after his brat.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just kill him instead?” The tattered blonde man asks, sounding a bit worried.

“Nah, that fucker has the audacity to ruin our business, our fucking fun and for what? That shitty radio host needs to pay.”

“But that’s a kid..”

The smoker looks at him, “Are you a pussy Johnny? Too afraid to kill a fucking kid?”

“I-I’m not.”

“Then man the fuck up. The boss wants this done.”

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

“Okay children! Remember stay close to me and pay close attention!” Mrs. Amber, your teacher, says. “Today will be picking up a few rocks to bring back to our class for our geology work. You may pick a few by the lake but don’t go into the water. As for the flowers you make gather some of every color.” Mrs. Amber passes some plastic bags, “You can put the rocks you find into the bag.”

“Okay everyone you may gather your rocks and flowers now! Just stay where I can see you and come back here when I call you!”

“Yes ma’am!” a chorus of children say.

You begin your pick of the rocks, picking out the most shiny, exotic ones. “Oooo this one can be for papa.” You say as you pick out a red one, placing it in the bag. You manage to gather a total of nine rocks. “Now for flowers!”  You see your classmates’ carrying loads of flowers.

You turn your head to see if there are any flowers left on the ground as soon as your about to reach for one a girl, Vicky Valentine, snatches it away from you.

“Hey! I was going to grab that one!”

“HA well you snooze you lose Y/n!” She sneers at you and walks away.

You huff and look around once more and there you spot it, in the darker part of the forest there with its orange color reminding you of a sunset. “So pretty…” But the flower is nowhere near where your teacher can see you. “It’ll just be a second.” You promise yourself. “I’ll grab it and go…”

“Tell someone where you’re going darling…” You hear your papa’s voice in your head.

“Hmmmmmm…. I’ll only be a second!” you tell yourself as you walk over to the flower.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

“Get ready Johnny… and stop your fucking shaking.”

The forest seemed to get darker, almost as if it was closing in on the little girl.

She picked up the flower.

“NOW!”

Johnny grabbed the girl as she screamed.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” The smoker smacks the girl in her face. “Hurry up!”

The girl begins to punch but they mean nothing. “SHUT HER UP DAMNIT!” The orange flower falls.

Johnny grabs the girl by her neck pushing her to the ground, tightening his grip. She tries to push him away, scratching his face.

He feels it before he hears it. The snap. The crack. The lifeless look in the girl’s eyes.

He never bothered to learn the girl’s name.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!? You were supposed to be watching her!!”

“I know Mr. Hartfelt I’m sorry b-but once we heard the scream I g-gathered all the children away I-I’m so s-sorry!” Mrs. Amber cries out.

“Mr. Hartfelt please calm down!” The principle tries to tell him.

“NO! My daughter isn’t here… SO DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!” He starts to breathe heavily. Alastor runs back to his car, passing all the parents holding their children, driving over the speed limit heading to the forest where they left you, how… how dare they leave you behind.

He feels the tears going down his face but quickly wipes them away.

Alastor swerves as he makes it to the trail of the darkening forest. He races out of the car calling out your name.

“Where are you?!”

“Darling! Please answer me!”

“Y/N?!”

There in the shadow of darkness lays a body.

He treads there carefully almost as if his body was moving on its own.

An orange flower lays near your hand, a bag of rocks in your other, your eyes are shot open. Fear. There is, no, there was fear in your eyes.

His legs sink down to the ground, almost consuming him.

“Darling….?” His hands caress your face. “No…no… no” Alastor pulls your body to his, wrapping his arms around you, cradling the body of his beloved daughter, rocking her as if she still were a baby. “My daughter….” Tears began to fall down to your face.

Your life taken too soon, his darling daughter, his little girl, the light to his darkness was now gone forever.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

PRESENT DAY

“Why did we have to bring Alastor with us?”

Vaggie walks beside Charlie as they begin their tread towards heaven’s gates.

“Well, he’s a big part of the reason why we have the hotel in the first place! And I believe he is here for… moral support!”

Alastor pats Vaggie’s head “Easy now! It’s not like I’m here for anyone’s souls! Ha-ha!!” Vaggie immediately pulls his hand away from here and sneers.

“You better not cause any trouble here!”

“Vaggie calm down please!”

“I am simply here for Charlie’s sake! Besides I might not ever get to see heaven so I might as well indulge myself for the time begin! Ha-ha”

As Saint Peter begins to search for Charlie’s name Alastor’s mind begins to wander.

Truthfully Alastor could care less about supporting the princess at this very moment. While the hotel might be his little passion project for now, he came here for one reason only. His daughter. The memory of his little girl flashes in his mind. Always happy. Always so lively. He wonders if he’ll get to see her here today. Of course, there’s no doubt in his mind that his daughter is in heaven. There would have been no reason for her to be in hell. But he still checked anyways. In the end, however he was glad he didn’t find her. She deserves to be in heaven, but she should have never been taken from him far too soon.

The little angel finally opens the gates alongside two others who appeared to be seraphims. Everything truly is brighter here as they say.  

While the little seraphim speaks to Charlie, Alastor scans around the area with a stretched grin…… and there she was.

There.

Right there was a little girl with a red ribbon tied to her hair. His little girl, Y/n…

He watches as she laughs with the other small angels as they play in the grassy area surrounded by different colored flowers.

Alastor walks over to the carefully….why do his legs feel shaky? He hears Vaggie call out to him but doesn’t bother turning around.

“Hello there! My, my you seem to be having quite the afternoon here!” He tells the little angels with a wide grin. The two next to you fly off but you stay there staring at him with a smile.

“Yes! I’m having fun!!”

“How delightful my child!”  He says as he pats your head.

You giggle, “Do you want one mister?” you say handing him a bright orange flower.

Mister? Do you not recognize him? “Darling… its me.”

You tilt your head, “Huh? I don’t think I know you mister….” You look at his face and set your sights on the top of his head or rather his ears. “Hey! You’re just like me!” you say while pointing at his ears and touching yours.

Alastor’s smiles softens, “I do believe we are similar….would you like to feel them darling?”

“Yes! Yes! Please!!” You jump up from your spot on the ground, excitement running through your body.

Alastor chuckles, “Alright then,” he picks you up and you immediately touch his ears.

“There sooo fluffly!!” you giggle once more.

Alastor hums and brings you closer to him, wanting to give you a hug…. If you do not recognize him… then this what he’ll settle for….

He hears his name called once more and gives a huff.

“Alastor! What are you doing?! Put that angel down and get over here!! Now!!” Vaggie yells, startling the other angels passing by.

Charlie pats her lovers’ shoulder and walks to Alastor.

“Alastor we should be heading to our rest area now!” Charlie grins slightly, hoping not to panic the little angel that Alastor is holding.

Your hands come to a stop, “You… have the same name as my papa…”

Charlie’s eyes widen.

Alastor holds you tighter, “I suppose I do…” his radio voice turned off.

“I miss him a lot… I hope he’s not mad at me for not following his rules…” You begin to sniffle.

“He’s not mad at you…. he could never be mad at you.” He feels his legs collapse to the ground.

“I don’t know where he is…..” You sob holding on to Alastor.

“He’s right here… I’m right here…”

You look up at the deer man in front of you, tilting your head… “Papa?”

Alastor closes his a for a second then reopens them to look down at you, you with your bright red ribbon, with your tearful gaze.

“Y/n… yes its me.”

“Papa!!” You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug, sobbing. “I’m sorry…. so s-s-sorry! I didn’t mean t-to leave I s-swear… I’m sorry!!”

He pulls you closer, “Don’t be sorry don’t ever be sorry.”

Charlie watches from behind, hands wiping her tears away as Vaggie stands in shock.

He knows that he may never see you again after today… but just knowing that your safe and nothing bad can every happen to you is all that he needs to hear. No matter how much he wants you to stay with him. He knows that this moment is only a moment. He’ll have to go back down to hell… he’ll have to be separated from you once more. Maybe he’ll change his mind about redemption, but that of course will not work on him. So for this moment and this moment only will he hold his daughter tighter than ever before and dream that he stays here with her forevermore.

•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°. *࿐•°.

I hope you liked this, almost started tearing up towards the end! Thank you so much for requesting again hopefully this is what you meant!

Requests are open !!!

Wordcount: 2609

[chleem]

Is it casual now?/extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, angst,

Warnings: swearing, sex, light read, etc

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

⋆.˚ official one shot, extra I

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. Then he looks back at your eyes, and a smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

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

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

[zhounauts]

౨ৎ₊˚⊹ ( KICK IT W/ YOU ) RICH BOY!PJS X FMR

0823 ── girl pardon me i don't mean to be rude but i got some paper, and i wanna spend it on you

XX ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏based on all i wanna do by jay park w/ 462 words

WRNGS ── N/A

before you even see park jongseong, you know he's there.

the oh-so-familiar revving of his ferrari 812 as you reach the exit of your university is a dead giveaway that he's outside waiting for you. it's like a unwelcome reminder that he seems to always be everywhere you are, despite your efforts to shake him off.

and then there he is, in all his glory, leaning against his car with a bouquet of ivory roses in hand. park jongseong is filthy rich and anyone can see it in his perfectly tailored polo shirt, cream slacks, perfectly gelled hair and shiny rolex.

your stomach does a flip despite yourself, but you force it down. you've been doing this little dance with him for weeks—ignoring him, pushing him away, and pretending you don’t care. you refuse to look at him as you walk out, trying to blend in with the crowd surrounding him.

the last time you had saw him, you were sure you'd made it clear that you didn't want him doing things like this anymore. no gifts, no surprise visits in super cars, and most importantly no toying around with your heart like it was a game he could win by pulling the right strings.

but then there he is, again—just like always.

you try your best to slip past him, hoping that the crowd is enough to shield you from his penetrating gaze. yet, it only takes him a second to spot you.

"you're not really gonna ignore me forever, are you?" he calls out. you try to keep walking, but he doesn't let that slide, "i'm talking to you yn,"

the crowd of students goes silent, whispers floating through the air. you feel your jaw tighten in annoyance. though you want to keep walking, the scene jay has caused is enough, and you're willing to do anything to get rid of him.

with a sigh, you storm towards him, and he grins at this; unlocking his car and sliding into the drivers seat.

"well? no hello?" he teases as soon as you slam the door shut. his voice is light a playful, and you can tell he's enjoying the fact that you've been forced to confront him.

you turn to him, annoyance written clearly on your face. he sighs, "you're really not gonna say anything? after you've just sat down in my car?"

you don't answer him.

"hey," he says softly, "yn. c'mon," he stares at you. and just as you think you've successfully ignored him, he reaches out towards a loose strand of your hair, fingers hovering close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

you react immediately, yelling as you whack his hand away, "i'm not talking to you dammit!" he smirks.

"just did,"

RAE'S NOTE(S) guys my brain has been throwing up so many ideas the amount of motivation i have is insane right now. it must be the christmas spirit filling me! newayz this has got to be one of my faves i've written ever so pls enjoy

(ZHOUNAUTS , 2024)

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 10)

summary: with your trainer's help this last week, you slowly find your way back to yourself again... and you finally have the courage to tell hugh more details about your relationship with jack and it only makes him angrier. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: angst - mentions of toxic relationship, verbal / physical abuse (not with hugh!). implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 2.4k a/n: anyway, we're getting into the reader's backstory with jack, so it's going to be a bit dark... and consider this the first argument between reader and hugh... gonna be a tough next couple of chapters, but trust me when i say there will be a happy ending at the end of all of this! as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part.

You’d taken today off to drop your trainer off at the airport. This last week had gone too fast and while it was emotionally and mentally exhausting, it was just what you needed to remind yourself just how far you’d come. There’s still something lingering in the pit of your stomach, the anxiety that you’ll need to have a conversation with Hugh about everything that’s happened with you and Jack. He knows bits and pieces that you’ve shared before, but he doesn’t know the full picture. 

“You gonna be okay?” she asks. 

“I think so,” you nod. “I can’t let Jack run my life anymore.”

Your trainer pulls you into a hug, holding you tight. “You’re a good person,” she whispers. “And you never should have gone through what you did. He should have never put you through that.” 

You can feel tears stinging your eyes as you wrap your arms around her as well. She had been a godsend and so important in your journey in finding yourself again. She empowered you, motivated you, and helped you see just how worthy you are. 

When she pulls away, she smiles in your direction. “Hugh loves you,” she points out. “Allow yourself to be loved because you’re worthy of it. You’re enough.” 

You nod, wiping any fallen tears from your cheeks. “I just don’t want to disappoint him… What if he realizes that I’m not what he thought I’d be, that maybe all the pain I’m still working through isn’t worth it?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?”  

You share your head. 

“Well, that man looks at you like you can do no wrong. Like you’re the only person that matters. Trust me, you are worth it.” 

“Part of me is also nervous… To talk to Hugh and tell him everything. He knows bits and pieces, but…”

“He’ll understand,” she replies. 

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.” 

You sigh and then pull her in for another hug. “Thank you for coming here, for being there for me. Again.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh and gives you a tight squeeze before she pulls away. “If Hugh wants to invite me back, let me know. I’d be happy to visit again,” she winks. 

“I’ll let him know. Get home safe.” 

“Remember how far you’ve come, okay?” she says. “And if Jack crosses any lines, it might be time to get the authorities involved.”

You nod in agreement. “I know… I just don’t want it to get to that point.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” 

—

Later that night, you’re sitting out on the balcony of the hotel room with a notebook on your lap. You had tried to write some talking points to go over when Hugh gets home. You know he’s going to be tired, but you know that if you don’t have this conversation with him, you may never will. 

You know he’s on his way back to the hotel and your heart races faster and faster. You can feel the anxiety course through your veins and even with the notes you had written down, you still don’t feel all that confident. It’s not the fact that you have to tell Hugh what happened, but it’s the fact that you’d have to relive everything that Jack had put you through. 

When you hear the hotel room door open, you stand up and turn to look over your shoulder and make eye contact with Hugh. He looks tired, but at the sight of you, his eyes light up and a broad smile lines his lips. This must be what your trainer was referring to… about the way he looks at you. It eases your nerves, calms you down and keeps you grounded because with Hugh, you have always felt safe. 

He steps out into the balcony with you and pulls you into his arms, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Hi, baby. Missed you on set today.” 

You smile to yourself and shut your notebook, setting it on the chair you were sitting on and away from his line of view. “I missed you too.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands playing with the hair at his nape. “How was filming?”

“It was good. Movie’s coming along.” Hugh holds you closer to him, eyes falling shut as he holds you in his arms. This was what he was looking forward to all day. Being with you. He knows that this last week had helped a great deal, having your personal trainer here had helped immensely. You weren’t so much on edge anymore and it felt like things were going back to normal. Before Jack entered the picture. “And how was your day? You get home safe after dropping her off?” 

“Oh yeah,” you nod. “It was nice having her here. Thank you for doing that, baby. You really didn’t need to and–”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But I wanted to. I knew she would help… in ways that I couldn’t.” 

“I love you,” you smile. “I’m really lucky.” 

“I love you too, baby.” He pecks your lips and then slowly pulls away. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and maybe we can order in for dinner?” 

“Wait, Hugh…” 

“Yeah?”

“After your shower, can we talk?” 

Hugh’s brow furrows, biting the inside of his cheek as his hands move to rest on your hips. “What about?” 

“Just…” you bite your lower lip. “It’s nothing bad. I just–” 

Hugh tilts his head to the side. He can sense your worry, your anxiety, so he just nods and leans in to peck your lips lightly. “Okay, baby. We’ll talk after my shower.” As he turns to walk back into the room, you reach out for him and pull him back into a tight hug. Your face buries into his chest, arms tightening around his frame as you hold onto him for a few seconds longer. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he whispers. 

“I will be.” 

—

Hugh’s shower doesn’t last that long. He tries not to overthink about what you wanted to talk about, but he can’t help the tug he feels in the pit of his stomach. Now he’s worried, he’s concerned. He quickly changes into a pair of black sweatpants and a Global Citizen t-shirt. He dries his damp hair with a towel and steps back out into the room, seeing you still outside on the balcony. You’re writing in your notebook again and he knows that you only write when you have something on your mind, something that you can’t shake. 

Quietly, he steps out with you and smiles in your direction. Hugh watches you close your notebook, setting it on the small table. He doesn’t let you get up, instead, he scoops you into his arms and then sits in the same chair with you on his lap. 

“Okay, let’s talk, baby,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek as he drapes an arm over your legs. Hugh tries not to make it seem like he’s nervous and he isn’t even sure if you take notice because he can see that your mind has drifted, and can feel the tension in your shoulder blades. 

“Jack–”

“What?” 

You take a deep breath and move an arm around his shoulders. “I need to tell you about– about Jack.”

“Baby, you don’t have to–”

“I need to, Hugh.” 

He can see the tears in your eyes and a piece of his heart breaks at the sight. Hugh cups your cheek and gently brushes his thumb across your skin, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Okay,” he says softly. “I’m here. I’m listening.”

You nod and bite your lower lip. “So, we were together for three years…” 

“That I knew.” 

“The– The abuse, the manipulation, everything happened so fast. I didn’t even realize what was happening until I realized it was too late.” 

Hugh tightens his jaw. He feels anger bubbling within him, but he opts to remain quiet, to keep a neutral look on his face. He knows that you need this, that you need to tell him and he can’t react because he fears that if he does, you’re going to pull away and he knows how important this is that you’re telling him. 

“I had gotten used to his insults… so much so that I started to believe him.” you’re about to get off his lap, about to pull away from him, but he keeps a firm hold on you. When you look into his eyes, all you can see is the concern in his features and the subtle desire to take your pain away. 

“Oh baby…” Hugh whispers quietly. 

“I’m weak and I’m not brave,” you continue. “And that’s because of Jack. I should have left at the first sign of his verbal abuse, but I always–” you can feel your breath catch in your throat. “I always justified his actions. Always felt like it was my fault, that he was acting the way he was and saying the things he’d say because of me. Because I was making things difficult for him.” 

Hugh tightens his jaw when you look away from him, the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“And I believed him. I thought– I thought I could give all of my love to him and he’d see how much I cared for him, how much I was willing to do anything for him. Because I did,” you say with a disappointed tone. “I did love him and when he broke up with me – he broke up with me –” you shake your head. “It was my fault. It was always my fault. Mine.” 

“Baby, no…” Hugh shakes his head and cups your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours. 

“I couldn’t even break up with him, Hugh. All of the nasty things he’s said to me and I couldn’t–” you shake your head and stand up from his lap before he can pull you back. “I was heartbroken when Jack broke up with me because he made me believe that no one would ever love me… that I wasn’t worthy of love and I fucking believed him.”

Hugh’s foot taps against the floor incessantly. He wants to reach out for you, but he always wants to find Jack and cause him just the same amount of pain – if not more. But then, he hears the words leave your lips and he jumps up from his chair. 

“He hit me once.”

“What?” 

“Hugh…”

“No no, he what?” 

You bite your lower lip and stare up at him. You can see the anger clear in his features and you gently reach out for him, but he just shakes his head. He’s fuming, hands shaking at his sides at your admission. You know this was going to happen, had even expected this reaction, but seeing it firsthand is entirely different. You don’t know how you can even calm him down. 

“I got angry because he had made me make him dinner after a long fucking day at work and–” you sigh. “After that, I learned how to fight because I knew that if he put his hands on me again, I’d fight back and–” 

“Wait, he hit you? Put his hands on you?”

“Hugh…”

“No, baby.” Tears are now pooling at his eyes. “He doesn’t get to do that, do you hear me? He has no fucking right–”

“Hugh!” you raise your voice, staring up at him. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry. I’m telling you this so you can understand why he had so much control over me, why I reacted the way I did when I saw him that one night at dinner, why it’s so fucking hard for me to see how worthy I am of this, of you.” 

Hugh shakes his head. He’s trying – truly, he’s trying so fucking hard to understand (and there’s a big part of him that does), but all he can see is this man putting his hands on you, putting thoughts and words into your mind that aren’t true. 

“Give me his number. The number he called you from a couple of weeks ago,” Hugh says. 

“No.”

“Baby, he can’t just get away with thinking that what he did to you was okay. He can’t get away with still making you feel the way that you do.”

“What are you going to do? Go and beat him up?” you ask, shaking your head. “Hugh, you’d get arrested! It’d be all over the media and–”

“I don’t care!” Hugh yells – it’s the first time that he’s ever raised his voice at you and when he sees you take a step back, it brings him back to reality. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I just– I can’t fathom this man walking around thinking like he did no wrong, baby.” 

“Nothing you do will help him see that, Hugh.”

“No? Well he hasn’t dealt with someone like me and–”

“Just stop!” 

Hugh furrows a brow. “Baby–”

“No, Hugh…” you cross your arms over your chest, wanting so badly to just get away from this all, away from Jack, away from Hugh. “I don’t need you to save me… I don’t need you to go back to my past and make things better. I just need you to understand the shit I went through is what made me who I am today. And I’m still healing… I’m still working on it, and I just–” your breath catches in your throat once more. “You’ve been so patient with me, so understanding that I figured I’d at least tell you everything because… because I will have moments where it’ll be hard for me to snap out of it.”

“I know, and I appreciate you telling me all of this, baby–” Hugh sighs. “But I can’t just sit here and not do anything about it.”

“You know what,” you tell him, opening the sliding door to walk back into the hotel room. “I’m gonna go for a walk. I can’t be here right now. This wasn’t how I thought this conversation would go.”

“Baby, no–” Hugh walks after you, watching you pull on a jacket and slip on your shoes as you grab your bag. “Please, just stay. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell him quietly. “I just need some space right now.”

“I love you,” Hugh whispers. 

“I know,” you reply, grabbing the hotel key card and setting it in your bag. “I love you too, Hugh, but I just need to be alone right now. We both need to calm down before we say something we’re both going to regret.” 

You don’t give him a chance to respond because just as his mouth opens to say something, you’re already out the door. 

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

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@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

[prodagustd]

surprise | myg

this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff

—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw

—words: 7.6k

a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!

A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.

Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter. 

It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side. 

With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact. 

You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.

Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.

You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.

It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him. 

It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked. 

Did you mention that it was still winter?

Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain. 

You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed. 

“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.

“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. 

You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too. 

“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt. 

Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up. 

You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”

He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Happy now?”

“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.” 

You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent. 

Yoongi scoffed, amused.  “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you. 

“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no. 

You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.

As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?

Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this. 

Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it. 

And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive. 

The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake. 

You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too.  She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit. 

Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.) 

The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.

Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown. 

Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.

You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help. 

“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.

There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth. 

“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”

He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body.  “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”

“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.” 

He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.

“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.

“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.” 

Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”

“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes. 

“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”

“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back. 

“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask. 

You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.” 

He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him. 

“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother. 

You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”

On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.

“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”

You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought  didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?

You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.” 

Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words. 

"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke. 

A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say. 

“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.

“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.” 

Jungkook hummed, still thinking. 

“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded. 

It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation. 

“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”

You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic. 

“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”

He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution. 

“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.

“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”

“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.” 

Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier. 

You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”

“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”

“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly. 

“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”

You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it. 

“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest. 

“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.  

Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either. 

Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place. 

“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.” 

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide. 

You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.

Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right. 

A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever,  you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.

You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.

“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts. 

“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close. 

“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.

“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”

You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”

He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”

“They’ll miss you…”

“You’ll miss me, too.”

“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper. 

“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.

Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry. 

When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it. 

You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place. 

“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.

“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.

Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice. 

He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off. 

“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.” 

You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?

“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong. 

He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”

You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words. 

“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here? 

You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous. 

“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.

You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”

“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”

As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”

 “A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”

“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.

“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.

Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.

Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.

“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.

“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.

“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”

He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.

“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.

As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.

“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.

He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”

“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”

It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time. 

“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”

Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.

“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”

He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”

“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”

He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”

“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”

He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”

“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.” 

“But it is.”

You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried? 

“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him. 

Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”

“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”

“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”

You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”

Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”

“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh. 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

It Was Smiling Down - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Ryan Butcher I'd die for you. If Eric Kripke EVER does you dirty he will have to answer to me personally. Title from San Francisco by the Mowgli's.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary/Warnings: A Ryan pov Chapter! Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, slightly angst, pre-established relationship

Ryan Butcher doesn’t really trust people. As a whole, they haven’t proven themselves to be that trustworthy. They mostly lie to him, or hurt him, or yell at him things that haunt him when he can’t sleep. Things about how he hurts people, when he doesn’t mean to. 

He never means to hurt anyone. It makes him feel heavy and sad and sick, and then the sizzle of flesh or crunch of bones has to be added to his nightmares, along with all the other faces that he did something bad to. Mom said hurting people was bad, and that we should treat others with kindness.

Dad said it didn’t matter. Dad said that people were like toys for them—the stronger, the better, the gods—to play with. That if Ryan broke one or two spines, or smashed four or five people into buildings, or punched a dozen people’s faces into their bodies, it didn’t really matter. The toy box was infinite, so they’d find a replacement. Dad said that humans couldn’t stop reproducing like cockroaches, so killing a few, or a lot, was if anything a favor to the universe.

Ryan had told Her that once. Not what his Dad had said—the mention of Dad always made Her face look sad, and Ben’s face look angry—but that cockroaches reproduced a lot. She’d been visiting him and Ben during training—all of them sitting on the floor, Ryan cross legged and Her leaning against Ben’s body—and Ryan had said it for a reason he couldn’t now remember.

She’d paused, frowning at her sandwich, then looked up at Ryan with a soft, curious gaze. “Do they? I mean, all bugs reproduce quickly for survival purposes, but I don’t think cockroaches are that remarkable at it.”

“I, I don’t know.” Ryan had mumbled, his eyes dropping to the mat. He didn’t want Her to be disappointed in him, even if she’d never been before. “I just heard it somewhere, I guess.”

“Huh.” She’d shrugged, reaching over Ben’s body to grab one of his fries that he always told Ryan tasted like fucking Styrofoam, but still brought every time she ate lunch with them. “Maybe I’m wrong-“

“No.” Ryan’s head had shaken nervously, because if Ben had taught him anything it was that She was almost never wrong. “I, I must have gotten it mixed up, I don’t know what animal reproduces the most-“ 

“Seahorses.”

Ryan had looked back up to Her, to see her grinning at him. All teeth and a warm affection that made the twisting feeling in Ryan’s gut fade. “Seahorses?” 

She’d nodded, humming an affirmation. “Up to 2,000 babies at a time.” Then She’d twisted around to look at Ben, her face growing just a little brighter than it had been before as Ryan saw their eyes meet. “And the men give birth to them, Benjamin.”

Ben had scowled. “How the fuck is that my problem-“

She’d pouted at him, and Ryan had seen them do this a million times before. She poked him, and he poked back, and neither of them ever really meant it, and it would go and go until one of them—probably Ben, Ryan had seen Her talk circles around their whole weird little family all at once with breaking or faltering—gave in and shut the other up.

“Would you give birth to my seahorse babies, my love?”

“I’m not giving birth to fucking shit-“

“But would you-“

“No.” Ben had grunted, rolling his eyes. “Because men don’t give fucking birth-“

“Seahorse men do. Seahorse men get pregnant, and then give birth. Which is usually how that process goes, but in seahorse societies it’s considered masculine. The men give birth because they love their partners and don’t want them to be in pain-“

Ryan didn’t think that last part was true, but there was usually a point in these arguments where She started to tug at Ben’s shirt with a soft, teasing smile, and said words that didn’t need to be true, because they were almost always her winning blow. This hadn’t been any different, because She’d cut herself off with a small yelp as Ben pulled her further into his lap, leaning down to kiss her.

Ryan had found somewhere else to look for a few minutes. He’d gotten good at that, at reading when he had to pretend that his two trusted adults weren’t maybe seconds from having sex on the floor. They never did, and it didn’t really bother Ryan—they both smiled twice as much when they were done, and Ryan had seen a lot worse than the way they always seemed to be eating each other’s faces—but he still had to wait it out.

When it was preceded by one of their fake arguments, it usually lasted a little longer. The kissing would stop, and they’d just look at each for a minute or two until She turned back to Ryan and Ben’s arms locked around her stomach.

That was Ryan’s favorite part of this. How She’d keep talking to him with a wide, happy expression that Butcher had called Her ditzy fuckin Soldier Boy smile, and Ben would just look at Her.

Ryan really liked how Ben looked at Her. It was an expression of something soft and powerful that he’d only ever seen on Ben’s face, only ever directed at her. It was relaxed and adoring, but still solemn and firm in the only way Ben seemed to know how to be. Like She might be the only thing that Ben knew was real, and he wasn’t bothered by that at all.

It wasn’t like Dad had looked at Stormfront. That had been meaner. Like they were always in a fight—not one of Her and Ben’s play fights, which were more like a cat and a dog swatting at each other before the dog flopped over, and the cat climbed on top of it, but instead a violent, bloody war—and were trying to see who’d snap first. Dad had looked at Stormfront like he was waiting for her to stab him, but wasn’t sure she would.

Ben looked at Her like he’d handed her the knife to carve into his body, and She’d made a face and thrown it away. 

Ryan hadn’t really ever seen Butcher look at Mom, but he hoped it had been a little like that. It was what Mom had deserved, even if Butcher could be a cock fuck bitch with his head tonguing his own ass, in Ben’s words.

But Butcher was getting better. He’d apologized for saying Ryan had hurt Mom—he hadn’t meant to, he never meant to, and he still had nightmares where Mom’s guts were spilling out of her body, and she looked right through Ryan like he was a ghost—and mostly didn’t talk to Ryan about Dad anymore.

Nobody really liked to talk to Ryan about Dad. Ryan knew She would, if he asked, but he didn’t want to ask. He’d never forget what Butcher had shown him—about Mom and Dad and Her—or how, for the first two months Ryan had lived with everyone, She’d been gone because of Dad. Because of Ryan. 

Not your fucking fault, kid. She’d kill me if I let you blame yourself for your pussy fuck dad’s actions.

That was why Ryan talked to Ben about it. He didn’t coddle or lie or sweeten the truth, he just grunted words that—when Ben said them—always seemed to be the inherent truth. Dad wasn’t Ryan’s fault, and Ryan was getting stronger, and it was okay that Ryan got afraid because it he wasn’t a pathetic fucking dickless pussy about it.

Ryan asked Ben if it was okay to hurt people, and Ben told him if they fucking deserve it, but only if they deserve it, and Ryan decided that sounded right. And She said most people didn’t deserve to be hurt, and very few things were truly unforgivable, so Ryan could try to figure out what things were really wrong, and then hurt the people that really deserved it.

Dad deserved it. When Ryan wasn’t afraid of Dad, he was angry at him. 

“Do you get angry?” He’d mumbled over a breakfast in Her and Ben’s apartment, and She’d hummed, tilting her head.

“I do. We all do. Anger is our brains telling us that something is unfair, and a lot of this isn’t really fair. So yeah, I get angry.”

Ryan had nodded slowly, turning to Ben as he approached the table from the kitchen. “Ben, do you-“ 

“Course I fucking get angry.” Ben had dumped three large pancakes onto Ryan’s plate, then two larger ones onto Her’s, then a smaller one onto his own, and ignored Her glare as he dropped into his seat. “This whole goddamn thing-“

She’d cleared her throat, eyes narrowed at Ben. “Benjamin.”

“What-“

She’d given a pointed look to his plate, then back to him. “You need to eat as well.”

“I’ll be fine, Sunshine, you and the kid need more than I do-“

She’d cut one of Her pancakes in half, moving the bigger piece to Ben’s plate, and he’d scowled. They’d both been silent, glaring at each other for almost a minute, and then Ben had grunted. She’d leaned back into her chair with a smug grin, and everything had moved on.

Neither of them had been mad, though. Ryan had thought that glaring and frowning was only about hatred, but when She and Ben glowered at each other it seemed to be more of a standoff. An act or show or contest of affection that neither of them ever seemed to be upset about losing.

They were never really mad at each other at all. Ryan had seen them yell at and taunt and mock each other, but there always seemed to be something under it that sounded like I love you. I’m allowed to call you a dumb dumb or pain in the ass, because I love you and we both know I don’t mean it, because I’m “fighting” with you, but I’m also holding onto you like you’re a buoy in the storm.

Ryan wanted to love someone like that. He wanted someone to love him like that. Because Ben never seemed to really think she was mad at him, even when she called him a cunt or idiot or asshole. Ryan himself didn’t think she was ever really mad at Ben, because he’d watch Her hit Ben’s arm with a fake pout or glare, but she’d never flinch or cower away from him. She was always touching Ben, and she was never afraid of him. Ben had hurt people, Ben was just as dangerous as Ryan was, but She only touched and looked at him like he’d fallen from heaven for her to have. She always kept her hand in Ben’s, or her body in his arms, or their legs pressed together. And she always looked for him. And She always seemed to be happier when she was talking to and looking at Ben, with just his presence never failing to make her smile.

And Ben loved Her. It seemed like love in movies Ryan had watched with Mom, or that he’d read about in books he’d found tucked in corners of Butcher’s apartment. But real. Ryan didn’t think Ben was capable of being really, truly mad at Her, and she seemed to know it. Ben would roll his eyes at Her, and grumble that she was brat, or glare at her in a way that would be dangerous if it wasn’t at Her. Whenever Ben glared at Her it was so painfully fake Ryan wondered if Butcher had been lying when he’d told Ryan not to mention love around those two twats, they ain’t aware that they’re fuckin obsessed with each other yet after She’d returned, because Ben didn’t seem capable looking at Her with anything but love painted over his features.

They certainly knew now. Everyone knew, because every third sentence out of Ben’s mouth was another declaration of love for Her. Every single thing Ben did seemed to be something for Her. Ryan would eat dinner with them, and he’d see Ben pass Her a fistful of stolen chocolate under the table. He’d watch a movie with them, and She’d would be holding Ben’s arms against Her, and Ben would kiss her in the dark and snort at her jokes and get Her and Ryan snacks whenever either of them so much as mentioned the word hungry. He’d train with Ben, and ask a question about punching, and Ben would grumble about how She said you could punch people and be a pacifist, like Muhammad Ali, and she was always fucking right about that shit. And She was a genius. And a better person than every other fucking pussy on the planet, so they should both fucking listen to her. 

Ben carried Her in his arms wherever she let him, and She never stopped smiling at him, and Ryan had decided that if he ever loved someone—far in the future, when Dad was just a faint, reoccurring nightmare—he’d love them like Ben loved Her.

Ryan would never be like Homelander, because he’d never lock up or hurt people he loved. Ryan would be like Ben. And that felt easier, because Ben never demanded that Ryan follow in his steps. He was just there, and trustworthy, and Ryan wanted to be strong like him. He wanted to protect people and do things for them. He wanted to never speak or think of his Dad again, because really their family was Ben and Her, a stained hole that didn’t really matter and Ben wouldn’t let hurt them, and Ryan. It was Butcher forgiving Ryan, because he was trying, and She said the most important thing anyone could do was try to be better. 

He was really trying to be better. Ryan didn’t really trust people, but he trusted Her and Ben when they said that this wasn’t his fault. He believed them when they told him what he knew, that Ryan really didn’t mean to hurt people.

And Ryan hoped that, after Homelander was dead, he’d get to have a life where they kept smiling at each other—and him—and Ryan never was made to hurt someone again.

End Note: Catch Ben in his Dad era, coming to a No Love Lost chapter near you (in all seriousness I hope you guys liked the extra pov! An outside perspective on how down bad they both are was very fun to write)

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[fancyfeathers]

Okay so I see a lot of Yandere!Batfam with a darling who is one of the children in the family but what I don’t see is Yandere!Batfam with two darlings, a single mother with a daughter.

Based on this quick post I made (link)

Like just picture the mother!darling being a rich sweetheart of Bruce Wayne’s at one point, perhaps even being his fiancé bit was the engagement was called off by her because of his work as Batman. She did not want her husband keeping secrets from her, and then imagine if they had a child one day, what sort of life would it be for them?

Well that question certainly comes to life when she finds out she is pregnant just days after leaving Bruce. She has far too much pride to go back to him and scared what life her baby would live with their father being in danger every night. She gives birth and raises her daughter herself, beginning to travel in the world for her work, leaving Gotham just as Bruce takes in Dick Grayson.

Years go by and she raises her own child and Bruce takes in his own children. Of course they hear about each other in the press but really have not paid much mind until she is back in Gotham, attending a charity event at a hotel. Her daughter is up in their hotel room, asleep or so she hopes anyway, and she is sipping on a glass of champagne while making meaningless small talk and then like as if out of a scene from a movie both she and Bruce spot each other from across the room. Conversation between the two is unavoidable especially with Dick trying to push the two together but it is sour quickly with her quietly chewing him out for choosing his vigilante identity over her and-

“Ma’am, your daughter just woke up, a nightmare.”

The conversation is cut short by one of the hotel staff speaking out to her while holding a little girl’s hand who is standing there in her nightgown, eyes full of tears while she clutches her stuffed animal. Bruce just watches as his ex-fiancé takes care of her daughter, his daughter, excusing herself from the party to put her back to bed. Then when the end of the party comes and people have started to leave he finds her again and asks her the question…

“Is she mine? Your daughter…”

“…Yes… she is… I-I am sorry Bruce, I have to go.”

She runs off upstairs and he is just left there starstruck and with his own kids not too far away and listening into their conversation. So when they all arrive back at the manor Bruce is due to give an explanation about the woman who is the mother of Bruce’s daughter, Damian’s half sister, and who might as well be the little sister of the rest of the lot.

So with a bit of planning the kids come up with a way to add a few people into their family, a mother and a little sister…

Dick goes to visit them at the hotel, calling beforehand and asking her to meet husband in the hotel lounge to talk. He tries to convince her to come back, her daughter needs to know who her father and brothers are, and Bruce misses her and she cannot deny that she love Bruce at one point and-

That plan goes up in flames as she runs upstairs, rejecting Dick’s idea.

Then that falls to plan B with Jason.

This wasn’t actually intended to be a plan, just Jason keeping an eye on the little girl from afar to make sure nothing happened to her while she was out with her nanny, after all Gotham is a dangerous place. She and her nanny were just supposed to be out running errands before they leave Gotham but she just happened to be separated from the nanny and alone in the dangerous streets. It is only a matter of time before someone tries to snatch her up, the daughter of a rich woman, she would be perfect to hold for ransom. Luckily Jason, or rather, Red Hood is there in time to save her, telling her to go in the corner and cover her eyes while he deals with them. He hushes her as he wraps her up in his jacket, telling her to keep her eyes shut as he carries her out of there, he doesn’t want her to see the pools of blood he is walking through as he is carrying his little sister out of there.

Then when he returns to Wayne Manor with her, Damian looks after her while Jason explains what happened to Bruce. It isn’t safe for them, she could have been killed or worse if it wasn’t for him. Eventually Bruce caves and agrees to their plan of getting them both back.

Bruce goes to go see his ex-fiancé who is in a state of panic because her daughter is missing. Bruce sits her down and tells her daughter is safe and taken care of at Wayne Manor but there is a problem, her daughter’s kidnapping will be seen as child neglect if Bruce chose to file for custody of his daughter. If that was not enough to get her cave in he shows her a file of blackmail Tim had gathered on her which also shows old not look good to the court, so he asks her one thing with only one answer to it…

“Will you marry me?”

“…fine…”

Then not to far down the line there is a white wedding that should have happened years ago, and as Bruce and his wife exchange rings, say I do, and kiss, their children watch…

Her daughter is not a fool, she knows something wrong, she just has no way of telling anyone as Dick holds her on his hip as if she weighs nothing, and Jason fixes her flower girl dress for the pictures that Tim is already taking and has been throughout the ceremony.

[bestofmultiverse]

Between the pages || 2

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

" I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. "

- J.D. Salinger, The catcher in the rye

Part 1

Y/N blinked, trying to get her bearings in the soft morning light streaming into her bedroom. She wasn’t on the sofa anymore, and she certainly hadn’t fallen asleep in her bed last night. But here she was, tucked neatly under her comforter, and beside her, separated by a few pillows, lay Aubrey. She was asleep, her face softened by rest, her features even more striking in the early morning calm.

A smile crept across Y/N’s face as she studied Aubrey’s peaceful expression. She was undeniably beautiful—not just beautiful for her age, but in a way that felt timeless and grounded. It made Y/N’s stomach flutter, and a slight pang of insecurity hit her; Aubrey was everything Y/N admired—confident, talented, and effortlessly alluring.

Feeling her heart race at the thought of Aubrey waking up to see her staring, Y/N slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, padding to the bathroom for a quick shower. When she returned, she busied herself in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. The faint hum of the radio kept her company as she toasted bread and scrambled eggs, relishing the simple, cozy act.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice murmured, soft and sleepy, breaking Y/N out of her thoughts.

Y/N turned, catching sight of Aubrey leaning against the doorway, her hair still mussed from sleep. She looked comfortable, yet somehow effortlessly poised, even in Y/N’s small kitchen. Y/N blushed, realizing how close they were.

“Good morning! Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asked, smiling. “I don’t really drink coffee, but I can go grab you some from the café around the corner if you’d like.”

Aubrey’s lips curved into a warm smile. “No need, this is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.” She stepped closer, glancing at the plates Y/N was setting up.

“So… not to rush you out, but I have a mountain of work today,” Y/N said with a small, guilty grin. “You’re welcome to stay, but just a heads-up—I might be a little boring.”

Aubrey laughed, her expression softening. “That’s okay, I get it. I have some things to get to anyway.” She hesitated, then continued, “But… I’d love to see you again, if you’d like that.”

Y/N’s face lit up, her smile wide and genuine. “I’d love that too.”

From then on, their connection only grew. They read together, taking turns with books y/n recommended, and spent hours talking about everything from their childhood dreams to favorite movies. After their third date—a late-night visit to a bookstore followed by a stroll through a quiet park—Aubrey walked Y/N home. They held hands, a shared warmth between them, and when they reached Y/N’s door, Aubrey leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. It was careful, as if reading Y/N’s shyness and matching it with tenderness.

As the days turned into weeks, they grew more comfortable, falling into each other’s lives seamlessly. Aubrey was patient, taking her time to get to know Y/N. She made Y/N feel safe, and Y/N adored every minute they spent together. Soon, they were FaceTiming in between meetings, texting about little things that made them think of each other, and finding moments to be together whenever they could.

When they finally crossed that last boundary, sharing their first night together, it was both gentle and passionate. They communicated, both eager yet considerate, learning each other’s wants and needs. Aubrey’s natural confidence took over, her assertiveness balanced by her desire to make Y/N feel loved and respected. Y/N, in turn, was just as attentive, savoring every moment with Aubrey, discovering a balance between playful and deeply intimate.

Two months into their relationship, it wasn’t just the two of them who noticed how special their connection was. After a dinner date, a paparazzi photographer managed to capture a candid shot of them leaving the restaurant hand in hand. By morning, the image was everywhere, spreading faster than Y/N could have imagined.

Aubrey’s publicist called with the news, explaining that the story had already taken off. Y/N knew Aubrey was a public figure, but she hadn’t expected their private moments to become public conversation so suddenly. Their little bubble was shattered, and suddenly her face was online, next to Aubrey’s in articles and tabloid stories speculating about their relationship.

The attention was overwhelming. Y/N’s friends started teasing her about dating “the Aubrey Plaza,” while her family’s reaction was more complicated. They had always known she was queer, but the age difference gave them pause, making them wonder if Y/N was really ready for such a serious relationship.

As the media frenzy grew, it was hard for Y/N to brush off the harsh comments online—insinuations about why Aubrey would date someone younger, or assumptions about Y/N’s motives. It felt as if the world was intruding into their private life, prying apart the joy they had found together.

But Aubrey was her anchor through it all. Late one evening, after Y/N shared how overwhelmed she felt, Aubrey wrapped her arms around her and whispered, “Forget them. I know who you are, and you know who I am. The rest… it doesn’t matter.”

They held each other close that night, letting the world outside fade, finding comfort in each other’s presence. And as they lay there, Y/N knew that, no matter the scrutiny, what she shared with Aubrey was real, something worth fighting for—even if they’d have to face the world together, one step at a time.

Sure, here’s how the story could continue:

As days went on, the intensity of the media attention didn’t exactly die down, but Y/N and Aubrey learned to adjust. Aubrey handled it with practiced ease, guiding Y/N with little tips on how to ignore the comments and dodge prying eyes. Despite the pressure, they found solace in each other, learning to carve out quiet moments that felt like their own little world.

One evening, they decided to stay in for a movie night at Y/N’s apartment. Y/N had loaded up a few of Aubrey’s favorite old films, trying her best to make it feel special—a few candles, some popcorn, and a cozy blanket they could share.

“You know,” Aubrey said, settling down next to Y/N, “I don’t think I’ve had a better night in ages.” She glanced around, smiling at the thoughtful touches Y/N had put together. “You really went all out.”

Y/N blushed, nudging her playfully. “It’s just popcorn and candles. Hardly a red carpet.”

Aubrey smirked, tilting her head. “It’s the thought, and you, that make it perfect.” She reached for Y/N’s hand, entwining their fingers, and squeezed gently.

As the movie started, they fell into a comfortable silence, Y/N nestled into Aubrey’s side. The world outside felt far away, reduced to nothing more than the faint city hum in the distance. Halfway through the film, Aubrey leaned over and softly kissed Y/N’s forehead, her lips lingering just a little longer than usual. Y/N looked up, her heart skipping as she met Aubrey’s gentle gaze.

“Thank you for sticking with me through all of this,” Aubrey murmured, tucking a loose strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

Y/N’s hand found its way to Aubrey’s cheek, tracing the soft lines of her face. “I’m not going anywhere. I knew this might be hard, but… you’re worth it.” She offered a small, reassuring smile. “And I’m learning. I mean, I’ve got the best teacher.”

Aubrey chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. “Flattery will get you everywhere, just so you know.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing, sharing stories, and talking about the little things they hadn’t yet told each other. Y/N felt a kind of warmth she hadn’t felt before—a love that was both grounding and freeing, as if Aubrey had opened up parts of herself she didn’t know existed.

A few weeks later, they decided to spend a weekend out of the city, heading to a secluded cabin by the lake. Aubrey had rented it on a whim, sensing that they both needed a little time to breathe away from the constant hum of the city.

On their first morning there, Y/N woke up to the smell of coffee and soft music playing. She wandered out to find Aubrey on the deck, wrapped in a flannel blanket with two mugs steaming in her hands. The sun was just rising, casting a soft pink glow over the lake.

Aubrey turned when she heard Y/N approach, her eyes lighting up. “Morning, sleepyhead. Thought you’d like to join me for the sunrise.” She handed Y/N a mug of tea, remembering she didn’t drink coffee.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun climb slowly above the horizon, casting a shimmering path across the water. It was quiet, almost surreal, and Y/N felt the weight of everything slip away, replaced with the calm of being completely at peace in the moment.

After a while, Aubrey shifted, turning toward Y/N. “You know,” she said softly, “this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Y/N looked at her, her heart swelling at the sincerity in Aubrey’s eyes. “I feel the same way,” she whispered. Then, unable to resist, she leaned in, capturing Aubrey’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

As they pulled away, Aubrey grinned, her eyes shining with something close to wonder. “I don’t care about the noise, Y/N. As long as I have you, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Y/n beamed at her

"So, what are we reading today?" Aubrey asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence

"I thought maybe 'the catcher in the rye, its a classic"

Aubrey nodded before pulling the younger woman into another soft kiss.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other and the quiet beauty of the morning, with their book and hot drinks, feeling as if, just for that moment, they were the only two people in the world.

_____

Just a quick note:

i dont really think itll be a series, maybe a bunch of chapters that might actually work as a full story or at least the same like universe, but im not sure if ill continue to write it regularly or not so just an heads up.

Also im in love with Aubrey plaza.

[thisismeracing]

Can I please request a charles dating a Greek girl *like the Korean girl you did*???👉🏻👈🏻🥹🥹🥹🥺🥺

Hi, love!!! of course <3 here you go! sorry for taking forever, I was off for a bit and just got back hihih

MICK DATING A GREEK GIRL | MS47

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to greeks and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t  forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Mick already knows Greece, but when you two start dating he's in for a whole new adventure aka getting familiar with culture, sayings, and the idiom;

He becomes obsessed with Greek cuisine. To him, everything is better when it's Greek - greek rice, greek break, greek spaghetti, and the latter let it slip during an interview, and you bet Ferrari fans we're mad for a week or so;

He would encourage you guys to visit the less tourist-centered cities and islands, instead suggesting places where you grew up or had stories to tell;

Mick would make sure to always have his camera on him and register random photos of you - he has a 'Greek girl <3' folder that consists mostly of pictures of you;

Randomly learned to introduce himself in Greek, but got his age wrong and it didn't matter how many times you tried to correct him, he would always forget and say it wrong again, so you just accepted that he was one hundred five instead of twenty-five when in Greece;

Though Mick loved the homey cities, he also loved the famous islands and whenever you traveled there at least one weekend would be spent in one of those. Athenas, Santorini, Corfu, Mykonos, Crete, Zakynthos, Ithaca, you name it, he will pack his bags at the speed of light and be ready to tag along;

He would watch movies that were ambient in Greece and ask you if things were accurate. He looved Mamma Mia and Greek Wedding;

Totally hints that he wants to have a greek wedding after you attend one together; The plates breaking? The common cup? the wedding face? He watched it all in awe;

Now when it comes to meeting the family Mick is nervous. He wants to make everything right so he will try to at least introduce himself in Greek -and he'll most likely get nervous again and say he's one hundred-five years lol it becomes a family thing, and he feels at home around your folks;

Same to you and his family that will definitely put Greece on their next vacay destination just to spend some quality family time with everyone.

Overall Mick is just super curious and open to learning about you and your culture, and will go around talking about how cool things are in Greece because he's this type of person. He's obsessed with your country, but he's even more obsessed with you.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I hope you guys liked it! Let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to me <3 *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[rockgodklav]

“Ahh. Ja.” Klavier then took a seat in a counter, elbows leaning on his knees as to not to hit his head. He hasn’t judgmental or rude—simply acknowledged what Apollo said—and dropped the bread thing.

He was thinking, apparently, by the way he played with his hair for a moment before looking at Apollo.

“Hm.. Achtung! I do wonder if my card would work here; I… carry very little cash, I admit,” Klavier thought aloud, now giving fixing his hair one more valiant effort. He didn’t have a brush or hairspray and instead tried to make it neater with his hands; really, he had been thrown into this world with only himself.

”Ah, Gott.” He smiled at Apollo, still on the counter and failing to straighten out his appearance. “I don’t.. suppose you have any ideas, Herr Stirn? If this isn’t temporary, anyway.”

Klavier was nervous, once more, thinking about his situation realistically: Vongole is still at home, he was relying on Apollo not kicking him out, and it seemed this world was awfully different. It made him homesick for his empty, cold penthouse.

[[ AS A CONTINUATION OF THIS POST (REALLY LONG REBLOG CHAIN) ]]

[[ @jaydovekj ]]

// before I continue I want to point out that this is what Apollo looks like right now. It's not that important, he just looks funny. ignore the tiny chair/giant apollo, drawing furniture is hard & i made that while dead tired

"Advice? Hm." [The voice paused in thought, the man's wry smile easily visualized even with his lack of presence.] "Now, what would you need my advice with? You can make decisions for yourself, can't you?"

[Another pause occurred, more palpable than the last. But after a moment, he continued again, Kristoph's voice switching to a much more light, saccharine tone.]

"...But, who would I be, to not help guide you?"

[While his eyes had diverted off to the side, Apollo's brows were furrowed at the part of the conversation he could hear. Even the simple concept of Klavier talking to someone else, possibly about him, made him nervous... and going off of the man's demeanor, it could only really be one person, right?

He paused his thoughts, closing his eyes.

Frightened? No. If anything... he felt more embarrassed about the potential of him knowing. Knowing that left an odd pit in his stomach, his mouth pulling into a thin frown.]

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[baejax-the-great]

Sing, O Muse

Achilles is standing in his room, a scroll in his hand. He has a look of utmost concentration on the page, so much so he doesn’t notice Zagreus walking in, though his cheeks are strangely pink as his eyes scan over the words. He raises an eyebrow, then blinks a few times at whatever he has just read, at which point he notices Zagreus in the doorway. He coughs once, tossing the scroll to the desk.

“Interesting reading you have here, lad.”

Zagreus feels his own face begin to flush. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. “Dusa gave it to me,” he blurts out.

It’s not a lie. It is true of the scroll Achilles was just reading. It is not true of two of the scrolls now underneath it on his desk, which are written in his own hand. Blood and darkness, Thanatos was right about him needing to clean his room.

“I see,” Achilles says, though now his eyes have wandered to the poster of him Zagreus has on his wall, and he wants to die. It wouldn’t do much, because he’d only come back about twenty meters away, but getting skewered by Theseus would be less embarrassing than this moment.

“Did Patroclus, um…” Achilles’ brows furrow even deeper somehow. “Dusa’s never met him, has she?”

“No,” Zagreus says, and for some reason Achilles’ flush grows deeper.

“There are some very fine descriptions of him in that,” he says with a gesture to the scroll.

“Dusa has a way with words.”

There is an awkward pause in which Zagreus wishes with every bone in his body that Achilles would just tell him why he’s here and then leave his room and then immediately suffer a bout of amnesia, and in which Achilles does nothing at all.

“The muses,” Achilles says suddenly, but then he stops. “Well, they told me…” His eyes search the floor of Zagreus’s room. “I died before any of the songs about me were written, you see.”

“Oh.”

“Well, there were some songs, among the men, but not the promised immortal poetry.”

“I don’t think this counts as—”

“I’ve tried not to think about it much, what they would write about me, what the living people up there right now must think of me. I don’t even know how much time has passed, but immortal is forever, so the muses must… well, they must inspire as they see fit, I suppose.”

Both of them turn to look at the scroll sitting on Zagreus’s desk. Zagreus has never met the muses, so he doesn’t know if they like stories that involve two childhood friends now grown, dressed in torn, thin chitons while stranded in a cave after a surprise flooding cut them off from the rest of the army, tenderly washing each other’s wounds, caressing each other with the reverence of ostensibly unrequited love until one leans in with bated breath, then the other, both of them filled with such longing and such fear that once their lips finally do touch, they can’t help but make passionate love on the cavern floor, which, in Zagreus’s experience, would not be very pleasant on the knees and seems like a terrible risk for magma, but in Dusa’s writing comes off as desperately hot, so much so he can’t stop thinking about inviting Thanatos to Asphodel with him. Zagreus’s story club seems to like those stories, though, so perhaps he could get Hermes to send an invitation to the muses and see if any would like to visit.

“Would you like to keep it, sir?”

Achilles’ eyes widen as he looks at Zagreus dead on for the first time since Zagreus walked in the room. He protests that he couldn’t possibly, but Zagreus insists, “Maybe Patroclus would like to read it, too. It’s only fair, I think, given that it’s about him as much as it’s about you, sir.”

Achilles’ cheeks grow pink again. “That’s a very kind offer, lad, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your… reading material.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, sir, I’ve got lots of others to read, and Dusa’s already working on the sequel and I’m sure she’ll share it next week at our—”

Zagreus cuts himself off before he reveals that half the House gathers to talk about Achilles’ shapely legs and Patroclus’s hairy chest in all sorts of contrived scenarios. It’s not only them in the stories, but currently those are Zagreus’s favorites.

“Just how many people have read this?” Achilles asks, his voice strained.

“Not many,” Zagreus hedges. “A normal amount, I think.”

“Right.”

In a smooth movement, Achilles slips the scroll off the desk and tucks it away somewhere on his person. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer after all, lad,” he says before striding out of the room.

“Will you want to read the sequel, too?” Zagreus calls after him.

Achilles doesn’t acknowledge him, walking purposefully away before fading from view, a blue flash indicating he has made his way to Elysium.

Later, on some day or night, a new scroll lies on Zagreus’s desk. He unrolls it to find Achilles has written “He insisted” in a script so tight, Zagreus wonders if he didn’t snap the quill. Beneath that is a long list of what appears to be critiques written in Patroclus’s hand, including parts of Achilles’ body he believes were overlooked and underappreciated and the adjectives he personally would use to describe them, though a couple of those are blotted out, presumably by the messenger, as well as positions he thinks would be better-suited to making love on a cavern floor.

Zagreus glances at his door. He’d been planning on going back out there, in part because Eurydice has been waiting for him to finish Dusa’s latest story and he’s finally finished it, but at the very end of his very long note, Patroclus had suggested a shipwreck on an uninhabited island as a potential new setting for getting the heroes to admit their love for each other, and now he’s having so many thoughts about that he thinks he’ll explode if he doesn’t write them down this instant.

Zagreus sits at his desk, takes a long look at the poster of Achilles on the wall, and picks up a quill.

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Spoiled 💋

He can sub this time. As a treat.

Smut - woozi x gn!reader

Happy Birth Month Woozi! I would love to spoil you one day 😘(I may have gotten carried away with this Uno Reverse.)

AO3 link

Word Count: 3k

CW: sub!jihoon, bottom!jihoon, oral (m!rec.), handjob (m!rec.), cockring, vibrator, dildo, fingering (m!rec.), analingus (m!rec.), assplay (m!rec.)

♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ 💋♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

There is nothing more delicious than the sight of your boyfriend panting and flushed with one arm slung over his eyes and the other gripping the sheets as you take your time sucking hard on every single inch of his cock. Jihoon is sprawled out naked beneath you, his clear skin hot to the touch and slick with a thin sheen of sweat. The muscles in his stomach contract as he has no choice but to hold on to his release. A cockring sits snug at the base of his dick, and your fingers find it amusing to rub it slowly as your tongue circles his tip.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Jihoon moans out, squeezing his eyes shut behind his arm. He can’t even chance a look at you, fearing he’ll come early for the first time tonight.

You move your hand to stroke his length languidly, taking your mouth off of him to reply, “This is just the beginning, baby Hoonie.” Your voice is too sweet. Too innocent for the filthy things your tongue has been doing to Jihoon for the last twenty minutes. And for the things you're planning to do until he’s begging, pleading, and crying to come. You have your essential tools laid out beside you, ready for use. The cockring was a part of the small group, but it has already been employed. Next there’s warming lube, a small bullet vibrator, and a long dildo each waiting for its turn in tonight’s session. 

Spoiling Jihoon with some solo pleasure makes your own heart race with anticipation. You love seeing him drop his dom persona and take a break once in a while, embracing that switchy side of himself. He starts talking cutely, acting cutely, and listening to every command you issue him. His whole body flushes a blushy pink color, and he looks softer than ever. All you wanna do is sully that sweet innocence, bring him to the sexy, dark side with you. You wonder if he gets the same feeling looking at you when you are this needy and adorable.

You reach for the bullet vibrator with the hand that’s not traveling up and down his shaft. Carefully, you rub the object on his tip, massaging the slit all without turning it on. The action elicits a desperate moan from Jihoon that lilts through the air like sweet music.

“Aww,” you coo, “it’s not even on yet, love.”

He moves to grip the sheets hard with both hands, bracing for the moment you hit the little button that brings the simple object to life. He’s breathing heavily, eyes still screwed shut and bottom lip stuck between his teeth. You chuckle at the sight of him and remove the still vibrator from his tip to give it a reassuring kiss. Your lips trail up his taut stomach and land for a visit to his adorable nipples. As you prod at one with your tongue, you move the toy back to rubbing his tip.

“Please,” he breathes out in a whisper.

“Please what?” you pry, mouthing the words on the erect nub.

“Please, just, turn it on. Get it over with.” It’s a desperate plea. 

You can’t help but smile and move your lips up to rest on his jaw. “Now, baby Hoonie, don’t be impatient. If you want it to be over, we can stop.” Your tone is teasing, knowing the reaction the simple threat might provoke.

Jihoon finally snaps his eyes open in shock and panic. You raise your head to meet his eyes. “No, please, don’t stop! I’m sorry! I’ll be patient!” 

You lean in to kiss the corner of his lips gently. “That's a good boy.” The words are punctuated with the swift action of turning on the vibrator as it presses hard into the head of his cock. Jihoon’s eyes roll back into head as a gorgeous, full-bodied moan rips through his chest and pours from his lips.

You move back down to your position between his legs and place a hand behind one of his knees to bend it until you have access to all of him. You sink down to place your lips on his balls, kissing and mouthing at them. The feeling of hot, wet lips and relentless vibration are almost too much for Jihoon. His breathy sounds become a high-pitch staccato following his heavy breathing. His fingers curl into the sheets hard making his knuckles go white. He’s using all his strength to avoid coming and the resistance is almost as torturous as the action itself. His resolve crumbles when your adventurous tongue wanders further south, lapping at his taint and then finally circling his tight asshole. 

You move the vibrator down his length until it’s vibrating against the cockring. “Please,” he breathes out, “please, I want to come.”

You bite at his thigh then say, “So early? You know I’m not done yet. You think you can come again tonight?”

“Yes! Yes, just please, take it off. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll… I’ll…” He knows that right now, he doesn’t have the power to do much but lay there and take what you give him. He sounds desperate, and he looks adorably pathetic.

Looking into his big teary eyes, you reply sympathetically, “So spoiled.” You sigh, “I can’t say no to that face.” You give him a sly pout and remove the cockring from him with the same hand holding the vibrator. Grasping both him and the small machine in your hand, you stroke him to help reach his climax. He comes in long spurts, glossy ribbons falling onto his stomach. Discarding the ring and vibrator, you lift your head to see the absolute mess you helped make of your boyfriend. Fingers run through the streaks on his stomach and find their way to his mouth. He sucks at them eagerly, grabbing onto your hand and looking into your eyes. You replace your hand with your mouth and immediately swipe your tongue around, tasting Jihoon on his own lips. 

“Now,” you start as you separate, “what do you want next, baby Hoonie?”

The eyes that once bore into yours are now flighty. They can’t focus on one thing, and they definitely can’t meet your face. “Well, umm…” he hesitates.

“How am I supposed to spoil you if I don’t know what you want?” You grab him lightly by the chin and direct him to face you. “Look at me, and tell me.”

He blinks with big, innocent eyes. “Can you… put that…” he directs his eyes to the long dildo then back at you, “inside? Please?” 

He looks delectable. Just too cute. You peck him on the lips then answer, “Of course, baby Hoonie. Anything for you.”

You sink back down in between his legs and place both of them up to a position bent at the knees. His hand sneaks to reach for his flaccid cock, wanting to bring it back to life, but you grab his wrist hard and pin it against the sheets.

You look up at him from between his legs, “No touching. That doesn’t belong to you right now. Understand?” He nods in response which is not good enough for you. You lay a swift smack to the side of his thigh. “Use words. Now, do you understand?” you say firmer than before.

“Yes, I understand.”

 “Good boy.” You continue your ministrations, using both of your thumbs to spread him open. You begin kissing and tracing his rim with your tongue like before, only this time, you start prodding to open it, slipping inside. You pump your tongue in and out, tasting his fresh hole. He prepared for tonight and is now reaping the great reward. He’s sensitive here, though he only dares ask for stimulation when he’s feeling subby like this. 

You're a great multitasker. While maintaining a steady pace with your mouth and tongue, your hand finds the bottle of the special warming lube you got for this exact occasion. Without even looking, you open the cap and spread the substance over your fingers, enjoying the way Jihoon’s body reacts to you and to the anticipation. He jolts and his cock twitches when you bring a finger to join your tongue inside. 

A warmth spreads through Jihoon that starts as a nagging feeling. The smooth sensation gliding into him from your finger paired with the warming lube is undeniably erotic. Even just one finger with the substance brings a heat to Jihoon that almost makes him sweat. His once spent and limp dick now starts to harden again, untouched. You remove your tongue and begin pumping the one finger torturously slowly. You feel the heat on your hands of the gentle warmth the lube brings. Your hips begin rutting against the bed where you are poised. You won’t be able to go long without some attention of your very own. 

“Hold on for me, baby Hoonie,” you say as a last-minute warning before completely removing his stimulation. 

“No…” he whines, “Please, I want more.” His eyebrows knit together, screwing his face into a frustrated scowl that can’t even try to be intimidating. He’s too flushed, too needy, and too cute to look angry.

You try to take him seriously, but end up chuckling lightly at the mini tantrum. “I thought you said you’d be a good boy. Is this how good boys act?” 

He squirms in protest then relents. “No,” he pouts.

“Then you can wait for me.” You move deftly, reaching for the discarded bullet vibrator. As much as you enjoy watching your boyfriend get all flustered and a little bratty, you know that the show must go on. You’re dying just about as much as he is waiting for the eventual sweet climax of the evening. With the toy in hand, you put it in your own underwear, right against your own sex and turn it on a low setting, relishing in the pleasurable vibrations. 

Jihoon watches you breathe heavily and rock your hips against the vibrations. You smile at his wide-eyed stare. You bend down again to kiss him, still enjoying the feeling of the vibrator in your underwear. Trailing back down his body with your mouth, you can’t help but feel giddy. The amount of power you have over him is almost addicting and you wish it could last forever. Of course, you like to be the submissive one, but there’s something so sweet about Jihoon when he wants to do it. It’s like it releases an incredible amount of tension in him.

You sink back down near his half-hard dick and your breath ghosts against it. Jihoon begins to sweat in anticipation. You chuckle lightly, sending more soft bursts of air against his cock. “Are you ready, baby Hoonie? You were so patient for me.”

“Y…yes, I’m ready,” he replies. His heartbeat quickens as your tongue flicks out and licks his pink tip. You see it coming back to a full erection. Your fingers find his hole again and begin circling. This time, two fingers plunge inside at once, and you take the tip into your mouth and suck hard, which is the final push Jihoon needed to come all the way back. The sounds emanating from him are loud enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if you get a noise complaint later. You don’t hesitate in the pace of pumping your slick fingers in his blushy hole. 

“Your noises are so pretty, baby Hoonie,” you say as you sink from the tip of his cock down to his balls. You don’t want him to come again yet, so you use your free hand to grip him at the base of his dick. Jihoon is more than stimulated with the scorch he’s feeling from your electric touch on his dick, your heated and relentless fingers in his hole, and your warm and wet mouth now sucking at his balls. His body reaches a fever pitch as he feels a third finger move inside of him and spread to stretch him wide. The tip of his cock leaks precum that drips down his length. His breath catches in his throat, and he’s making choked noises, unable to vocalize his pleasure anymore. He’s becoming more and more worn out, and you realize that it’s time to finish up.

You halt your movements but keep your fingers inside of him. You lift yourself into a kneeling position and use your free hand to caress your lover’s red cheeks. Jihoon looks considerably more fucked out than he was before, barely holding on by a thread. He’s barely registered you’ve stopped moving. You get his attention, “Hey, baby Hoonie.” Your thumb is caressing his cheek softly as you speak to him with a voice as sweet as raw sugar.

He leans into your hand and finally makes eye contact. “Mhm,” he hums in response.

“Are you still okay, love? Can we keep going?” You feel a tinge of concern. He’s already cum once, and the stimulation has only gotten more intense. You have been coasting on the sight of him wrecked for the whole night and can almost ignore the minimal vibrations against you. Jihoon, however, has been experiencing a barrage of sensations with few breaks. 

“Yes, please,” he says, perking up almost instantly. He starts to wiggle his hips seeming to have finally noticed the lack of movement.

You smile and kiss his lips. “Okay, good. I’m gonna let you come again. Are you ready?”

Jihoon nods eagerly, “Yes! I’m ready! Please, I really want it.”

“I’ll always give you what you want, my sweet baby Jihoonie.” You move in to kiss him sensually, sliding your tongue against his and absolutely loving the taste of all of him. You remove your fingers and finally grab the dildo. Breaking the kiss to sit up, you examine the toy before applying a generous amount of lube to it. You rock your hips against the toy in your underwear as well. Before you move any further, you reach down and turn the vibrations to a higher level. You have to still yourself and focus, not letting the pleasure take over and make you finish before your boyfriend. You take several deep breaths before continuing.

Jihoon waits patiently and moves without fuss, mostly anticipating what you need to do. He’s been on his back all night because you want him in the position with the least maintenance. You don’t want him to strain or anything; he just gets to sit back and relax tonight. You’re not going to try to fold him in some way; you just need his knees up, exposing his leaking cock and stretched hole. You rub the blunt tip of the large dildo against him. Your lips intertwine with his once more as a distraction from the push of the toy into him. It’s a thick toy that stretches him open wider than your three fingers could. He’s vocal in the kiss, but you bring your hand to his hard shaft and stroke until the dildo bottoms out inside of him.

You begin pumping the toy in and out of him, fucking him open carefully. Jihoon feels like he’s on fire. The stretch in his asshole pairs with the warmth of the lube to set him ablaze. Your hand on his wet cock adds fuel to the fire in him, making him sweat. Your pace is steady with both tasks you're carrying out. You don’t need to be brutal; Jihoon is already a mess under your control. His voice strains against your lips, and you are overcome with the desire to hear him at this moment. You trail down again to suck at his hard nipples and listen to him mew and squeal so high-pitched. He’s enjoying every second, and he’s so close. You realize that you are too and lean into the vibrator satisfying you. Jihoon’s hips begin to buck up into your hand. You have to put your weight on your elbows to hold him still, so you don’t lose your rhythm with the dildo pumping a little harder inside of him. 

Jihoon is restless. You become sloppier as well as you begin to lose focus and take in the pleasure of vibrations and the way your boyfriend jerks against your touches. There’s a shift in his hips and then he gasps into loud, desperate moans. The dildo now brushes against his prostate, bringing his stimulation to a high maximum. You move to look at his face again, and there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Cum for me. You can do it. Cum for me, baby Hoonie,” you coax him to it, tightening your grip on his cock. With just a few calculated, rough thrusts of the dildo against his g-spot, Jihoon comes in strong bursts. More of his cum glazes his stomach along with your hand. You take him through it, slowing your strokes and thrusts. Watching him makes you follow close behind, cumming against your vibrator. You are both utterly wrecked, panting, and sweating.

After an extended amount of clean-up time, you both lay in the fresh sheets you put on the bed. Jihoon is bathed and mostly dry when he sinks down to curl up next to you. He lays his head on your chest, and you stroke his damp hair. “That was fun, wasn’t it, baby?” Your voice is close to a whisper.

“Yes,” he breathes out, “Thank you for taking charge tonight.”

“Anytime. Actually, it wouldn’t kill you to feel subby more often,” you joke to him, and he buries his face in your chest, embarrassed.

“It might,” he says back with his voice muffled by your t-shirt.

You laugh softly and reply, “I love you, Jihoon.”

The last words Jihoon gets out before succumbing to his exhaustion are “I love you, too”. He feels incredibly safe and secure in your arms. You love being able to be that for him once in a while. Listening to his steady breathing, you drift off into a blissful sleep, as well.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 33

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 7k

A/N: Missed you all!

What do you say to your ex-boyfriend after you make him come so hard he cries?

Age old question. 

“Do you need water?” You ask, ankles wrapped around his lower back. Sated and satisfied, he nods before parting his body from yours. Eyes heavy lidded, staring at you bare covered in his come. Your questions sinks in and he takes back his nod with a furrowed brow.

“No-let me clean you.” He stands before you can protest that you can do it yourself. His jeans hanging low, sweat painting his hairline, he walks away. 

You’re left alone on the couch, a bit shameful you’d say. You might never look at the couch the same again. Thank goodness Chucho only ever sits in his recliner, he’s saving you from decades of embarrassment. The tv was shut all the way off and the December breeze creeped through the window steadily then all at once. Sobering your mind that only had the capacity to be turned on. Your pleasure sensors doing its job. 

He comes back, shifting his bulge with his palm. Kneeling before you, and wiping you clean. “We always seem to get here.” He whispers, leaning down to grab your panties off the floor. You thank him silently and pull them back on. He stands and watches you for a moment. He’s still licked with sweat and red eyed from his orgasm. “I don’t want this to be a step back-”

“It won’t be. We’re… human. And I’m almost getting my period so…” You ramble and he hums. You usually can keep it in your pants. And you talked up such a big game about boundaries just to fold the second your hormones whacked and Javier made the slightest reference to your previous sex life. You had an extraordinary forty-eight hour attempt of celibacy. 

He nods, leaning back in the seat. “Going forward?” He crosses his arms. Your brows shoot high, he waits for you to set a new rule. His pants are still unbuckled and he looks fucked out. Too sexy for his own good, that fucking mustache drives you up a wall. 

“Going forward…” You straighten up, criss crossing your legs. “I’d like to… not make it a habit while we’re figuring it out. But… if we get… in a mood-“ He chuckles, you stumble over your own words as if you weren’t just talking him through coming all over you. You narrow your eyes at him and nudge him with your foot. “No sex. Penetrative sex. No kissing.” You stabilize your voice, his eyes saddened at the last part. 

“Can I eat you out?” He asks like it’s nothing at all, like he’s asking what’s the weather like. You think for a moment. 

“Do you want to eat me out?” You ask, not sure why—

He looks down at your lap. “Please.”

You kick him. “Pervert… Yes you can. If! It happens to progress that way not just because we want to. We aren’t together-“

“Yet.” He nods. “Not together yet.”

You snort, “You’re confident.” 

“Andrea. I know you don’t want anyone else.”

You scoff this time, sitting up. “You’re right. I don’t. But if you can’t prove to me that you’re ready I’ll have no fucking problem setting foot to New York alone. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Your face is red, feeling something close to anger. No, you weren’t trying to be controlling. You’re just not the passive twenty-two year old ready to just cry and move on. Over and done with it. “Tomorrow. I want you to visit Lorraine. I’ll come with you if you’d like, I can’t promise to help the situation because I might pop her.” You exhale, running a hand through your hair. Genuinely frustrated and violent when you think of her. Javier smirks and nods

“Okay. But I need you there with me.” 

Flustered and frankly pissed off, “Alright.”

His under eye twitches and he opens his mouth just to shut it again. You squint at him, annoyed. “What.” You snap.

“You’re so sexy when you��re angry.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“So you’re back together” Genie wipes her lips, just to take another bite of bruschetta that drips on  the plate. You and Javier napped on the couch until four pm when the sound of a polaroid click and flash jolted you upright. Chucho stood at the couch without a clue, grinning as his photo developed. You yawned and Javier drove you back to your motel. He didn’t want to say goodbye, watched you until your waved at him from inside the room window. 

Then you put on your bumiest clothes and drive to your brother's house. In desperate need of talking to a woman. As much as you missed your brother, you were absolutely thrilled to find that he took your niece to a birthday party. 

Your lips tangy and oily, Genie was trying something new as a snack. “No. We aren’t-“

“So please explain this to me again.” She uses her bisquit to pick up what fell off before, grunting when it falls again. 

You sigh, licking your lips. “He ate me out on Christmas.”

“That’s blasphemous.” She grins and you roll your eyes. 

“Whatever, I think we were just high off of seeing each other. Missed one another, then we both felt shit about it the next morning. I told him we had to do this differently. I told him that we had to have rules because I want this to work so badly— Genie you don’t understand. I’m so tired of running around in circles.” You aggressively bite into another piece of bruschetta. Genie gives you a sympathetic nod, “I told him no kisses, no sex, just honesty. I need him to continue getting help—I need him to talk to Lorraine.”

Her brows shoot up, moving to stand and grab the bottle of wine left uncapped on the counter behind her. Internalizing all that you’ve said, she pours you another glass. “Don’t you think maybe… that won’t be a good idea. Like it’ll bring up old memories.”

And of course you’ve thought about it. You wonder if there’s a part of you who’s just being the jealous little girl you once was, You think that if he came back here, the same person he was in 1986 you’d be a bit crazy for making him talk to Lorraine. But that isn’t the reality, But that isn’t the reality, Lorraine intruded, she placed a wedge in the track of his life. Leaving him even more uncertain than he was before she came home.

There’s a part of Javier that stayed with her, a person isn’t made to be lied to in that way. You’re not sure if you can move on without officially leaving her in the past. 

You shake your head, “Lorraine is more than an old memory. She baby trapped him, attempted to isolate him on purpose, so she could keep him. And it has nothing to do with me—or-me feeling like she was taking him away from me. Even if we weren’t involved she still took advantage of him. It was an abuse of power, simple as that.” You crunch so loud it acts as a closing statement. Genies brows raise a bit, internalizing all that you’ve said. 

Genie is your family. She is your best friend. But she has also never left Laredo, Texas. She has lived her whole life in a bubble. She’s smart, she’s charming, she’s the only woman you’ve ever looked up to. But, she’s also very, very, southern—“You sound so damn therapized. That’s probably healthier than whatever I would have done!” She snorts and she means no harm. 

You laugh too, you love her so much sometimes you forget she isn’t really your sister. 

“What would you have done, Genie Diaz?” You quirk a brow. 

“Spun that bitches jaw at the altar!” 

“She was pregnant!” You cackle and Genie shrugs. 

“You’re right. I forget she didn’t lie about that. I don’t know, maybe spit in her face or something, she ain’t pregnant now. You should try it this time.” She gives up on piling her tomatoes on her biscuit and begins spoon feeding herself. You do the same.

“I’m trying to be good—I want to be healthy and mature about this. “ You say, mouth full of tomatoes. 

You playfully reach your spoon onto her plate, your silverware clanking. You find a scoop anyhow. “Huh. You’re really putting a lot of yourself into this.” 

You frown, because she knows. Because you have to say it anyway. Say it out loud. Face solemn and inward. Everyone always said you could never keep an emotion off of your face. 

“He’s the love of my life, so.” You shrug like it’s nothing to the ear. Genie smiles a small biting thing. You know she loves to hear it, you want to tell her to look away. But you don’t, “I will do anything to make it work. I’ll be thirty in a few years, I want to start building my life with him.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more happy to hear anything in my life.” She taps her spoon against yours, it’s like a hug. Like a kiss on the cheek.

 You tap hers back and burn bright red.  

This shit better work. 

Is the first thing Javier thought of the second you left his house. Feeling aimless and confused, which could be unhealthy but he just figures it just the effects of missing someone so much. 

He unpacks a few things, leaving most of it in its place. He’s ready to leave with you, if you say yes of course. He puts on his fathers records and picks up the living room. His brain was a bit clouded from the pseudo-sex you two had. Banishing himself from replaying it over in his mind. Ears hot with embarrassment and arousal thinking about the way you held his head when he came. 

His semi died in his pants the moment he remembered he needed to just call Lorraine, see if she’s even willing to speak. Javier’s therapist had been suggesting that he do something like this for a few years now. She believed that the way it ended wasn’t truly an end. And it wasn’t, he never got to face her and just ask her why. 

Granted, he’s been too fucking angry and rather never see her again. 

But it was you that asked, so he’ll do it. 

He knows he needs to, it petrifies him. But he wants to be with you so badly, the thought of this not working petrifies him in a whole other way. A way he won’t recover from. So he looks through his fathers phone book and finds her name.

It only took him two cigarettes, a lap around the kitchen and four minutes of silence to ring her. 

It rings twice and he hears a child's screech. Javier feels his world crashing down on him for a second.

“Hello?” 

Her voice makes him go cold. It makes him angry in a way that quickly turns to grief. All in twenty seconds. “Hello?” She asks again. 

He blinks, ashes his cigarette and straightens in his seat. It squeaks the same way it did when he sat half asleep over fifth grade math homework. The thought scares him, he’s been in this house for too long. Change becomes too much when you can pinpoint exactly what you did in that very spot twenty years ago. What he would give to do it all over, to drool over homework while his mother cooked. Instead he sits here with years of trauma, on the phone with one of the perpetrators. He blinks three times, “It’s Javi.”

There's a small breath from the phone, some shuffling and a similar creak that only a wooden chair could make. “Okay…” Is all she can say and he wants to bang his head into the hand sawed table Javier built with his father when he was fourteen. 

“I want to… talk to you. In person.”

“When… when did you come back to the states?”

“That doesn't really matter. When are you free?”

She does something that sounds like a scoff and his ears ring. He closes his eyes and sees you and everything clears up. “I guess tomorrow. Andy won’t be home.”

Javier’s brows furrow, “Who-”

“My son. My parents are taking him to the indoor waterpark. Does noon work?”

His eyes burn, chin usually strong but nearly quivers. He closes his eyes and can only feel heat surrounding his senses. His face an inferno, he feels so uncomfortable in his own skin at just a few words. He feels it, the isolation. Where would he be? How miserable would he have been with her. She speaks to him in that rude passive-aggressive tone she’d give him after a long day of classes.  Like he was a child needing reprimanding. 

He agrees with a simple sure and has what his therapist would describe as a panic attack. He cries again today. He feels stupid, exposed and weak. Unlike a man. He locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, doesn't come down for dinner and avoids thinking of you. He knows you’d cry with him and tell him he isn’t weak or stupid or whatever–he avoids thinking of you some more. He chooses not to be hopeful tonight, and that's what you are for him. 

He feels even more embarrassed when he wakes up at eight in the morning and realizes he fell asleep because his panic attack took the energy from him. He wakes up an anxious mess and he calls you to tell you that he’ll be at your hotel in two hours. He  barely lets you speak beyond the agreement, he wasn’t ready for this yet.

He showers and dunks his face in cold water, hoping his eye swelling will settle. He dresses the way he likes, denim, button up and boots. Burns one on the road, he knows you hate the smell. 

His panic fizzles the moment he pulls his fathers truck into the dingy motel “hotel”. What a rare thing you two have got going. You come out of the room, locking the door behind you and he already feels better. 

His lips twitch in a smile watching you struggle to work the overused key. He stares at what you decided to wear. Looking like a vixen, hair straightened, pencil skirt stretched across your behind taut like it's struggling. A sweater similar to yesterdays, white this time. And heels, like you're on your way to be the sexiest defense attorney in the state. He wonders if you could just forget it, fuck Lorraine, we can be fine without ever speaking of her again. 

Then he panics and looks at his eyes in the rearview mirror, still swollen and he decides maybe you have a point with all of this. He swallows his fear.

“Hi.” You chirp, not too excited for the day but excited to be with him. He furiously avoids  eye contact with you. 

“Hi.” He leans forward to kiss you cheek fast and you feel like an absolute loser for getting full body chills. “You look pretty.” He turns the key and the car rattles. The day is gray and depressing. The moment you opened your eyes alone in the itchy sheets of the hotel, you beamed at the sound of Javier's voice from your temporary home phone. Left sad at the brief tone and the Lorraine related reality check. You stared at the popcorn ceiling and cried for a few minutes. 

You see him now and figure maybe he feels the same way. 

The line between your brows creases, in the way that bothers him. You can’t help being worried about him. He had gone through so much without you. 

You observe his every move as he pulls out the lot without a word. Watching the way his hands look older on the steering wheel, thinking of what they’d look with a wedding band. You see a glimpse of the freckles on his cheeks that seemed to have layover from the Colombian sun. You see that under his eyes are puffy and that he’s clenching his jaw. 

He comes to a light and you can’t help yourself. Your hand flies to the back of his head, nails gently scraping his scalp. He pulls his brows together and leans into your touch. “Hey…its okay we don’t have to-”

He grunts, “Andrea…”

“We can go home, find another way– I can feel how unhappy you are it’s-”

“Andrea, please don’t do that-”

You drop your hand. “Do what.” 

The light turns green. 

“Try to take care of me– try to change the plans just because I’m not happy about it. It's right for us–I want to get it right.”

You frown and your hand feels as if it’s been stung. 

“I can't take care of you?” You whisper. 

He clicks his tongue, “I don’t want you to worry about that. That’s for me to handle.” Still, Javier has yet to look you in the eyes. Your face is filled with heat. 

“No.”

“No, what?” It’s meaner than he anticipates, you can tell in the way his forehead creases. 

“No. That’s not how this is going to work. Yes, I shouldn’t coddle you and I’m sorry for my immediate reaction to you being upset. But as long as I’m around I’ll want to take care of you. Let me have that.” You cross your arms, feeling like a petulant child, also not caring at all. His chest puffs and you can tell he’s about to speak again. You cut him off before he even begins. “You hurt me when you don’t expect me to care just as much as you care about me.” 

He looks at you, nostrils flaring and his face crumbles. He clenches his jaw and you watch the muscles in his face twitch, wanting to shut down and turn away. But he doesn’t, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just trying—you’re the most important part of my life. I’m not used to feeling this… open.”

“We don’t have to see her today.” 

He chuckles, “No. Now I have to see her today. She was just as callous and cold on the phone as she was years ago. It fucking pissed me off.” 

You smile, leaning your head against the window. “I probably shouldn’t come in with you. For her safety.” 

He snorts, a long loud beep snaps them both out of the little world they’ve created in that truck. Javier looks at the rear view mirror and cringes, before stepping on the gas. “How many times do you think that light changed?” He leans forward and readjusts himself to his regular driving posture. You take a deep breath and just shrug which makes him laugh again. “And I need you to bear witness to her manipulation.” 

“I’ll try to behave.”

He raises a brow at you but returns to be inward. You allow him, he lets music play the rest of the ride.

The lawn is only slightly overgrown. Overgrown in the way that everyone’s lawn is in the winter. Even in a place where you don’t get snow, or really cold weather. Still winter is a feeling, feeling like your lawn isn’t important. There’s a mailbox too, only the last name Smithfield is on it. So she isn’t married which honestly comes as a surprise to you. 

You’d assume in some ironic alliance of the stars she’d get all that she wanted and you’d suffer. Or maybe she realized she needs to be alone in order to figure herself out entirely. 

Javier lets you knock when you ascend the stairs. There’s a cat on a porch swing. It meows at the sight of the two of them. Like the world’s softest guard dog. It makes Javier smile for the first time since he stepped out of the car. 

You aren’t nervous, you had your moment to confront her. You’re not nervous in that way. 

Javi though, you could almost feel it lift from him. Since the moment he picked you up, you saw it in the bags of his eyes and in the way he snapped and hurt your feelings. The way he gets in a headspace where he cares so much about everything and he can’t conceptualize someone else caring for him. 

He’d look into the eyes of killers, men so ruthless, so deeply connected that bringing them to justice is a task nearly impossible. But when Lorraine opens the door his eyes dart to the ground first then to hers. But it’s no use.

Her eyes are on you. 

You aren’t expecting it but it doesn’t show. 

She looks the same, hair still blonde, brighter now like she goes for a touch up once and a while. Her cheeks lost its roundness and she’s skinnier in the way that moms get. When they realize that maybe they should focus on themselves too, fifteen pounds lighter later. There’s not a lick of makeup on her face and her nostrils flare at the sight of you. Then she looks at Javier. 

“Well. Come on in.” She bites out in a tone that seems like an attempt to be nice. She turns and walks straight in. Javier follows first, taking a glance at you and clenching his jaw. The house is nice, modern, and tidy. The front door leads you to a hallway that brings you into the kitchen. Lorraine’s back is still turned. Picking up a toy from the floor and mail from the dinner table and placing it on the counter next to the stovetop. “I made lunch, I wasn’t picturing a third person here.” 

She glances over her shoulder and runs her eyes from the top of your head down to your heels. You smile back and you know it disgusts her. She turns her face back to the food on the stovetop. It’s a casserole, she had no reason to complain about her lack of food other than to assert some pseudo dominance over you. 

It’s laughable, you watch as she serves you a plate as well. 

Javier shakes his head as he notices her comment was unnecessary as well. “Should we sit at the table?”

“Yes. Water?”

“Sure.” You respond and the sound of your voice has her shoulders tensing. 

It’s a brown table with two chairs on each side and two at both of the heads of the table. You and Javier sit side by side. 

Javi places his hand on your knee, soothing you to soothe himself. It makes you frown, it feels like the first time you aren’t hiding yourselves and it’s in front of Lorraine. 

Someone who doesn’t deserve to see. The second Lorraine walks towards them with plates and forks and water and whatever she puts in that casserole Javier straightens up. 

Lorraine settles down and sips her water, her eyes attempt to avoid you but they lose. 

Javier doesn’t like this. 

The way he stares at Lorraine is the way you pictured him staring down the face of officials, criminals, and his boss. It’s like in one moment all the nerves he once had cease to exist, all that was left was the anger he feels and the itch for confrontation.

Her fork drags across the plate in an ear aching screech. She takes a bite, waves the fork gesturing between the two of you. “So? You too finally together?” She says with a smirk, a knowing hint of sarcasm. She talks with the knowledge of her role in all of this. 

Javier clenches his jaw, “No. We aren’t. I just got home.” He doesn’t entertain her 

foolishness.

Her eyebrows furrow, she frowns and looks at you. 

“Ah— that’s unfortunate-“

“Where’s your kid?” You cut her off, taking a sip of the water she served. The smirk is immediately wiped off her face.

“Andy is with my mother. Not like it’s any of your concern.”

“Well my relationship status wasn’t your concern either so I suppose we’re even.” A timer goes off in the kitchen, Lorraine startles. It settles something in you, she’s much more affected than you are. 

She ignores the noise. 

“I want to talk about the wedding—I want you to tell me about it.” Javi sits straight, pushing his lousy dish to the side, it clinks with your cup. He pats his pants, digging for his pack. He taps it against the table. “Can i?” 

Lorraine shrugged. The apartment reeked of smoke anyway. 

Here is where you need to take the backseat. Let him feel. Let him ask. It’ll be impossibly hard to just let it happen but he needs it. He lights up. 

“What do you want to know?” She leans back, food abandoned only twenty seconds into the conversation. 

Javier furrows his brows, like, what a stupid fucking question. “Why. Why did you lie? When did you decide to fucking lie? Who’s the father—just fucking tell me.”

“You were in love with another woman.” She looks at you and you feel that stupid pang of shame. “I don’t know why I fucking agreed to this—why did you bring her?” Her voice breaks but there’s no tears, she’s afraid of being vulnerable in front of you. 

And you want to claw her eyes out. Flip the table over. Call her evil. And yet, you see a girl so insecure—so jaded by what she perceived as normal—and you feel pity beyond belief. 

Javier doesn’t reply, neither do you. Because she knows why you’re here. How life would have been different for them if she hadn’t come back around. She knows, so she frowns and the facade is gone. The act, like she’s above all of this mess, like it was just some thing she did that she got over so he should too. It’s gone. 

Finally she looks at Javier. “I- In high school you—we were so good. I fucked it up— I know. I thought because we already were planning a life that we could be adults and work through it.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I told you I was sorry—for cheating. I told you that you were it for me. That I’d try but it was written all over you. You were over me so fast, I couldn’t understand that. We were together and you were over me. I became the other woman in our own relationship. Watching you fucking glow whenever she was mentioned. Or watching you hold yourself back from talking about her.” She exhales, she avoids your eyes the entire time. Like it could maim her. 

You can’t help it but you do feel an ache in your chest. Javier clenches his jaw once more, his cigarette sizzling before he drags again. 

“I was stressed too, we said horrible things to each other when we were like that. Then we’d make up, and be sweet and it would be good. That’s what couples do…”

“They don’t Lorraine—they shouldn’t. We were worse than horrible when we fought, you know that.”

She shakes her head, “I was blindsided when you asked to separate. You’d say we weren’t together but we’d have sex and you still paid for everything.” 

Your brows furrow and Javier has a face of guilt. Like maybe he doesn’t want you here anymore. 

“We had an agreement.” He says lowly and Lorraine rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her water.

“Sue me then! For still having feelings for an ex boyfriend who is still living with me, paying for my life and fucking me at night.” She slams the cup on the table and your untouched silverware rattles. 

Javier narrows his eyes at her outburst. 

“Lorraine.” He says it like a whisper and her chin quivers. She could play the role of the heartless unaffected woman but she breaks character. “It was… irresponsible of us. Of me. I know that, and I’m sorry. It was six years of confusion and I really am sorry but I’ve apologized for this. Before I left, we had that talk, I was moving out. It was over that spring, you were seeing other people. I was going back home. You tried to baby trap me—that isn’t normal—that isn’t okay.”

“I wasn’t going to—then I saw the two of you at the wedding and my parents they-"

June 16th 1986

Lorraine is sobbing into her hand the second her aching body sits on her couch. Her parents followed behind her. Coming to sit down next to her. She put on a strong face when she walked in on them in the bathroom, telling each other they loved one another. She stared at herself in the mirror and smiled as tears threatened to fall. Her stomach is touching the sink. 

Her parents were livid when she burst into tears on the car ride back. When through a snotty nosed red face she says that Javier was with Andrea. 

They assumed he was the one who knocked her up. But she knows it doesn’t add up, she knows the man who did would never take responsibility in the way Javier would. She knows she can never find him if she tries. One drunken night with a man on a work trip. She continued to cry while they cursed his name, saying that he was less than a man.

“We will figure something out, he’ll step up once you tell him he’s his. You were together for nearly a decade! We know about Andrea. She was a fast little girl, brings shame to her family name.” Mrs. Smithfield paces then pauses to stroke Lorraine’s head. “She’s just a temptation.”

He held Andreas hand, comforted her at the sight of me. That was supposed to be me.

She remembers less than a month ago when she had just come home from her second appointment, getting on the phone with Genie. Asking about them, knowing the possibility of seeing Javier with you when you came back. She wasn’t prepared.

Lorraine hiccups, “I need him,” There it is, the truth. There's a part of her that loves him but most importantly she needs him. Overcome with that fact she can't seem to stop speaking through her tears. “He-he isn’t the father but I need him to be I can’t do this alone I-”

Mr. Smithfield storms out of the kitchen at that.  “Lorraine Marie. What are you saying?” He booms and Lorraine’s mother sits back in the recliner, head in her hands. Lorraine begins to cry more. Burying her head in the crook of her arm. “Sweetheart! Do you know what they’ll say if they find out. Your mother would lose her spot on the board, we’d never be welcomed in the church again.”

He mutters curses he would never dare say outside the living room. Lorraine sees the looks of their disappointed faces. She sees the same face they gave her brother before they sent him away. She thinks of all they’ve sacrificed to be here. To give her this life, their status. She thinks of the way she was brought into this world. A saving grace of her parents' marriage. Her heart clenches in her chest. To help her sleep at night she may say it's at the thought of being with Javier but something tells her it's the thought of taking him from you. 

“I…he doesn’t have to know it isn’t his.” She fills the silence.

Mrs. Smithfield lifts her head and there's a glimmer in her eye that maybe Lorraine should fear.

She accepts it. 

Javier is stone faced the entire retelling. His hand is holding his fist in a ball at the table. Watching Lorraine justify her actions. Excuse after excuse, thinking that pity will save her. At least that’s what you see. Product of her own environment, he wasn’t foolish enough to accept that. 

You hope Javier sees through her, he should. You know he’s worked on this in therapy, he told you he can no longer be manipulated by her.

 She’s rambling, and then she’s silent. She stares at the children’s drawing behind Javier’s head for a few moments and her face crumbles a bit. 

“My father was going to leave my mother. It had gotten so bad that despite his devotion to God and his-his dedication to maintain his image— he still filed divorce papers.” She lays her hands flat on the table then drops it into her lap. “But my mother was determined to keep her husband. She—had an idea of what her life was going to look like and she made sure of it. So she made sure their contraception wouldn’t work— and she saved her marriage with her pregnancy. That’s how I was brought along. That’s what I know — Javi I was going to do anything to have you again-.” She stares at him with an intensity like no other, the eyes of a manic woman. The eyes of a woman who hasn’t grown up. 

Javier shakes his head, and sits up straight. Heat swarming his face, he’s angry and you watch. Still you feel out of place here, you look away to avoid feeling the urge to cry at his pain. Then his voice booms and he’s pointing his finger in her face. “It’s not good enough— you can’t fault your parent’s actions for your own decisions. Choices you made as an adult—a choice you didn’t have to make. We were over, I didn’t want you. Don’t go using the way you were brought up as an excuse.” He leans back in the chair like the burst of anger pained his aching body. He exhales and Lorraine stays quiet.

Your teary eyes stare at the floor parts and look into the eyes of Lorraine. Her chin quivers but she doesn’t cry. She looks at you finally.

“Then what do you tell her? Huh?” She points her chin towards you, crossing her arms. Mirroring Javier’s posture while you perk up. His nostrils flare. 

“What are you talking about Lorraine?”

“Every time you leave her, every time you come back. Do you tell her it won’t happen again? Do you tell her you’re afraid of becoming like your mother so that each time you come home you can fuck up her life, keep her burning for you, and then blame it on it being the only way you know? Do you accept her dependency on you because you know she was neglected by her parents? Tell me Javi. Just fucking say it! Tell me it’s okay for you to be flawed and fuck up peoples lives, tell me I can’t live by those rules.”

You stand so fast, the wooden seat behind you clatters and falls. “Fuck you!” You yell, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about me— you don’t know how hard I've worked to recognize my issues and deal with them! You don’t know about our relationship.” You look at Javier, he’s completely shut down. You reach down and grab your purse, you gesture your finger between Lorraine, you and Javi.

 “You see— the difference between you and us is that we know we’re fucked up. Everybody is fucked up! But we are trying to take responsibility and grow. You—you’re the same mean spiteful girl you were when you made the conscious decision to trap Javier into a marriage.” Javier’s brain catches up with his body only barely when he stands. Lorraine watches his every move like she’s expecting him to stay. 

Your outburst harshly contrasts his tone when he does finally speak again.

“Lorraine—you will always be miserable and full of guilt and anger and fucking resentment for us if you don’t seek some help for your own fucked family trauma.” She stands too, wipes her face and you move away from her. You grab Javier’s hand and he stares at it for a second before following you toward the door. 

You step outside and Lorraine follows after. 

“Javi!” She calls from the doorway, crying hard. His brows furrow at her call, still holding your hand, he turns. 

A crack of sun shining on his face as he looks into the eyes of his former fiancée.

He shrugs, “I never want to see you again. You’ve made my life hell for too long, I'm tired of knowing you. I hope you figure your shit out for your—for your son.” 

It’s a harshness she deserves but a cruelty unlike Javi. You know it takes so much of him to be so headstrong. Your heart breaks for him as he turns away and drops your hand. Walking ahead of you as the sound of a screen door closing ends an excruciatingly long chapter. 

He raises his fist to his mouth in a motion and sounds akin to a cough but you know he’s hiding his tears from you as you follow him into the truck. You swing the door open and settle in, your heart beating so loud in your ears you feel like your cheeks may burst. Shortly he loads in, sniffling and crying in the way that he does. Continuous tears and furious shameful wipes. 

You’re so proud of him. 

You’re brought back nearly four years ago.

You in the car, with your head in your hands. Crying so hard you think you might drown. Replaying each word your father said to you, waiting for a comfort that cannot be provided by a kiss or a hug. But instead—

He wipes his face again with a shaky hand, he can’t seem to find the strength to away. 

You’re reluctant, afraid to overstep, afraid he won’t remember. 

Still you reach your hand over to his shoulder, up his neck and with your pointer finger and thumb you rub his earlobe. His simple gesture of, I love you, I’m your family.

 When he rubbed the beautiful bee earrings he got you in New Orleans.

You love him so much. You’re afraid to say it again. Instead you rub his ear to remind him. A quick pass that his brow relaxes at, your fingers caressing the shell of his ear. He leans into your touch for a moment before going frigid. You frown moving your hand to his jaw, holding his face with your face crumbled. 

You feel young again.

“When we were little—when we were young you’d always avoid talking about your feelings—or your personal problems when all four of us would get deep at 3 am. You’d listen to all of us but you always sat quietly.” You’re rambling but you picture the night.

 The summer before Javier’s freshman year, you, Genie, Frankie and Javier stayed under the stars way past curfew. The night Genie started crying when she told them about what happened with her dad’s friend. That sometimes she feels like the only person in the world who’s struggling. Frankie was already in love with her. He comforted her and talked about his dad. Which was a topic untouched between the two of you. You remember crying for him too.

 You told them about the way you felt inside, you sat there wondering if your brother would feel bad for you. And Javi, young, fourteen year old Javi said nothing. He just gathered you when you cried. And Javi, who still, sometimes says nothing, just put himself out there in a painful display of commitment to bettering himself. 

He knows what you’re talking about because his eyes soften at the mention. “I remember thinking how badly I wanted you to open up. How badly I wanted to comfort you in the way you comforted me-“ He closes his eyes and moves to part from you but you reach back out. “No— no one deserves to be manipulated and hurt in the way she hurt you. And i’m so—so fucking sorry I made you come here I thought it would be good for you-“

“Andrea-“

“No, Javi. Please. At Frankie’s wedding she got in my head— i’ll admit it. She made me feel ashamed of being in love with you—you told me you loved me that night and I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.” He wants to run, you know it, You see it on his face. “I can tell, I know you. She got in your head when she suggested that you’ll find another way to hurt me. But you won’t. I know you won’t hurt me again. You’re only finding a way to hurt yourself and I’m not letting that happen. When you hurt yourself—you hurt me, do you understand?” 

His hands come to hold to your wrists. “I’m not good for you.”

You chuckle through tears, ���You think that’s enough for me to leave you alone, you’re out of your mind. Please can we go home.”

His skin is so soft under your palms, “I’m sorry.” He gravels out, voice thick with emotion. You couldn’t care for an apology, you don’t need any. “I—I need to be alone for a moment. I need to process alone I think. I’m sorry.”

Your chest swarms with worry. Your hands drop from the side of his face to his shoulders, you inspect his face and let a beat pass. 

“Are you sure?” You feel desperate. You want him to retract, you’re being bad but you hope he kisses you. He looks at your lips when you think this, he stares at you and looks pained. His hands remove yours from his chest and he turns towards the wheel, starting the car. 

He never answers and you drive in silence. It feels like a closing of a door, you’re not sure which. You look for an olive branch when he pulls into your motel lot. 

“Will you call me?” You ask, you try your best to let him feel on his own. After all, you were the one to put in place all these rules. Javier averts his gaze from you for a moment.

Then he does, his eyes soften at the sight of you. You’re vulnerable and open for him. Standing at the door of his car. “Yes. I will.”

A door inside cracks open. 

[to-rise-above-monsters]

how i interpreted the bertholdt thing was that armin’s understanding of annie deepened bc of bertholdt’s memories, not that it necessarily controlled his feelings (like how eren implied)

i reallyyy like aruani as a concept. they mean so much to me. ‘girl who doesn’t care for life’ ‘boy who cares so much’ (i also just love them as characters so much)

i think the downside for them was how long ago s1 was.

warning rant underneath (im embarrassed im so sorry)

i’d been such a long time fan but dropped off when there was a hiatus of the anime and decided ill just binge the manga when it’s done. the only real reason annie was on my mind was bc of how dedicated i was to the rba dynamic and how much i loved annie (and fanon annie) as a character. but she truly wasn’t a character for nearly half of the series.

i even knew someone who saw her in the crystal and asked me “who’s that?”

i think she suffered from fandom slightly but now it being canon ig they were right. it was a little annoying for fandom (a small part of it) deciding that every character needed to be paired off with each other and that annie must be in love with one of the boys she tolerates. maybe that was a small reason i found the canonicity so out of nowhere?

bc i love fanon ships for sillies but making a female character HAVE to hinge on a relationship with a man rubbed me the wrong way. but that’s not what aruani is in canon and im so thankful for that. but i still wish there was more

it sucks because there was really no way of developing her or their relationship while she was in the crystal and idek how someone could properly execute it but it was very jarring for her to come out of an absence that was longer than the timeskip for the readers. we hadn’t even seen her for i think six years? and then immediately she is fully canon with a character that we had followed for all the time she’d been missing.

idk i wish they had more. i wish it wasn’t hints. i wish it wasn’t the assumption that they must be romantic because of this, this and this.

their stuff in season 1 was so nice. i remember being so intrigued. but that’s all it kinda was? we never had a reason. why did she spare him? why did she seem to care about him in particular? why did she want to ‘be a good person’ for him? so interesting.

but we… never get an answer? is it because he called her nice? she clearly had empathy for him before that. but that wasn’t something ever shown. even the compilation of moments always seems to start in the middle of a blossoming relationship. there was never a moment that solidified their mutual respect and interest for each other. it’s just something that just… happened? off screen?

rereading all these years later, i can catch these things and be like ohhhh yeah ig that was them liking each other. but when it was happening in real time, it was the most jarring and insane jump. i was like woah woah buddy what is going on.

sudden blushing and confession was so crazy to me. it felt so sudden. and so did other ships. it felt like “ofc they were in love the whole time they’re a woman and a man who have some interest in each other”

honestly, something that could have been implemented maybe was that armin was genuinely talking to her not because he was in love with her but he did genuinely ‘want to see her’. maybe a scene of him reflecting on maybe why he wanted to talk to her so badly (he kinda does but i want it to circle back to his regrets and maybe acknowledging all the times she spared him or cared about him to a certain capacity). maybe a flashback of why annie respected armin so much. or when their relationship started.

and maybe showing him visiting her throughout? but from a lore perspective, i feel like that still wouldn’t work. sigh im so sorry. i have so many feelings and I don’t think I’ve ever actually written it out before 💀

idk im so sorry im rambling SO BAD. i think snk deserved to have a lot more breathing room and filler. letting my children just breathe and talk for a second. (i think that’s why junior high was so good and so well received)

i love this manga so much and i know some people hate the ending but i personally really love this series and it’s overall message and think it’s so well written. and i love anyone who is passionate about anything and loves things. i just like to write improvements or brainstorm headcanon/how i would tweak things🙏

anyways

isayama put his whole pussy into making yumihisu so explicitly romantic and intimate and loving throughout their entire relationship and decided he was done for the day<3

why did isayama put his whole pussy into yumihisu after saying he can’t write romance. and then fumble when it came to the straights.