#i took this multiple times and these two get the same results

[parfaitblogs]

as time goes by ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you funnel through photographic memories of what once was, now isn't, but might still be.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst & smut (18+ mdni) tags: what isn't there? meet cute. burnt toast theory if you squint. right person wrong time. soft dom!spencer. first time. p in v. fingering. praise. fade to black oral (f receiving). mommy issues. anxious attachment reader. past alcohol consumption. argument. + angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort. word count: 9.8k a/n: i know i said this was 8k but then i just kept writing and writing and writing and writing and writing... enjoy my angels!! this truly took a piece of my soul to write. a short playlist of what i listened to while writing this <3

"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you." (Azra T)

February

It was a dreary burst of continuous rain and the threat of a thunderstorm that landed you in this predicament. 

Grey storm clouds that darkened the entire city even at the early hour of seven in the morning. There was a soft glow in one of the clusters of clouds where the sun was attempting to peek through, a striking metaphor for the way your life currently felt. Rays of sunshine barely piercing the sky enough to make an impression on the otherwise miserable day. 

You were late for work. Your usually easy morning routine replaced by bus delays due to the traffic on the roads, and trains canceled due to faults in the signalling.

You were barely halfway up the stairs to your platform when it happened. 

If you were any less focussed on keeping the ends of your jeans off the damp concrete, you wouldn't have spotted the drop of the blue and green SmarTrip card dropping to the step in front of you, from a leather messenger bag that was frantically swinging on someone's shoulder. 

You pick it up without even thinking, concerned by the fact that its owner hadn't even noticed. Which meant you'd have to experience the God awful awkward interaction of handing it back to them, and the even more awful small talk conversation that followed. 

The platform stretched out in front of you, and you were rushing to tap his shoulder before he could get too far away from you. A mop of messy curls turned, and never mind the fact that he was a stranger; he was hot. 

He's confused, and you watch him begin to think the tapping was a mistake, and you were just too rude to apologise for it. 

"Hi," you burst out, holding the card out in front of you. "Sorry. Is this yours?" 

"Oh," his expression is replaced with relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you."

You force an awkward smile onto your face, and he matches it with his own. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you thank God he was one of those awkward attractive guys — not an asshole. 

Then again, this was a two second interaction, and you didn't know him. Delusion would be your downfall. 

The train was overly crowded that morning. The traffic of two trains packed into one, resulting in barely any seats, and even less standing room. 

Thankfully, you had gotten one at the back of one of the carriages, which meant you could watch as multiple people walk past you, thinking there'd be more further down. Only to be sorely disappointed, but too stuck to come back and get the seat beside you they had spotted. 

"Oh. Hello again."

You lift your head at the voice, metro card man standing awkwardly next to the seat next to you. 

"Hey," you reply, heart rate skyrocketing. Just your luck.

"Is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," he asks, and even if there were six other free seats away from you, you'd let him. 

He sits when you nod, and you adjust your bag on the floor in front of you as he does the same, the messenger bag hugged firmly atop his lap. 

"Thank you for catching my card," he says, and you aren't sure if he's trying to make small talk because he's interested, or because he feels too bad to not. 

Your heart decides to go with the former. 

"It's no problem," you shake your head. "If I ever lost my metro card I'd probably have a panic attack in the middle of the station. So... y'know..." Why did you say that?

His chest shakes with quiet laughter anyways, and he's nodding in agreement, but you're sure he doesn't really understand what you mean. He doesn't seem like the type of person to have a panic attack in the middle of a train station.

"Are you headed to DC?" he then asks, and delusion be damned if this isn't him interested in you. 

You nod your head. "That's where this train is going, yes."

He pauses in a reply. "Well, yes, but there's stops along the way. You could be getting off at any of those." You fall silent at his words. That was true. "But you're not. You're going to DC."

"I am," you confirm your destination of the day for the second time, and your brain wonders if telling this inherent stranger where you were planning on going was a wise choice. Probably not. He didn't seem like a serial killer, at least. Then again, your judgement wasn't always the best.

"I am too," he says, lips pulling into the same awkward smile he had earlier, when you'd given him his metro card back. 

"We have so much in common," you joke, but you aren't sure if it lands. For he's blinking awkwardly, and then he must recognise you're trying to joke, because his chest puffs in a laugh. Pity laughter was still laughter. 

"We do."

It takes an entire train ride of conversation for you to muster up any courage at all, and it's only when he's about to step out into the aisle to disappear into his own world, and you into yours, that you blurt out,

"Do you want to get coffee?"

He blinks a few times, but then he's nodding his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

At his approval, you ask, "Could I get your number? Y'know, to... plan... this coffee date..."

Metro man, whose name you've since learned is Spencer, nods again, and he's rummaging in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. The pen he finds, the paper he does not, and you simply tell him to write his number down on your hand. 

Delusions were fuelled quite easily when you're a hopeless romantic, and the immediate flutter of your heart when his hand holds yours in place so he could write on your skin was enough to convince you this man was your soulmate. 

You part ways from each other, feeling a little giddier, and a lot less like the storm clouds still swirling over your head. 

March

Even the quietest of sounds were catastrophically loud when you were in that middle ground between being awake, and being asleep. And the muffled sound of a tap turning on was as loud as a raging thunderstorm, in the early hours of that Saturday morning, startling you awake from the comfortable sleep you had been in. 

It took you a few more minutes to fully come to consciousness, but by that point, you had registered what tap was on and why, and your fears of an unfamiliar scent surrounding you as you awaken were diminished. 

"Oh. Morning."

Your eyes flutter open to see a slightly shocked Spencer Reid standing at the foot of his bed, collecting the bundled socks he had set on the mattress. 

"What're you doing?" you ask him, tiredly, rolling onto your back and blocking the bright sunlight with your arm. 

"Going to work," he answers. "I have paperwork I need to catch up on," he then adds, at your puzzled expression.

"Oh," you pout immediately, your heart sinking at the knowledge that he was leaving you. 

"I'll be home by three," he promises, moving around and crouching down by the edge of the bed, next to your head.

"You want me to stay here?" you ask him, rolling over to look at him.

His eyes bore into your own, and you search his face, his cologne mixing with the scent of his sheets beneath your head, making your head go a little fuzzy. 

He brushes hair out of your face. "You can if you want. There's food in the fridge, and I bought copies of your toiletries for when you do... stay over..." he stammers to a stop, brain catching up to his mouth. "Sorry. Is that weird?"

"No," your lips pull into a smile. "No. It's really sweet, actually."

"And there's clean clothes in my dryer," he continues at your reassurance. "Since you said you like my shirts. I mean, you don't have to, obviously. But I'll only be gone six hours, and then I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and I know you do too, so I just figured—"

You cut him off with a kiss. Perhaps not the best time to kiss him, for you're pretty sure you have a bad case of morning breath. If you do, he doesn't protest. In fact, he melts even further into your lips. 

"I'll stay," you tell him.

"Okay," his eyes light up a little, and your cheeks hurt from how wide you're smiling. You're sure you look ridiculous. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye," you say, catching him for one more kiss, until he's closer to being late for work than anything, and he's tearing himself away from you. Forcefully, because he doesn't really want to. 

He comes home six and a half hours later to his home smelling distinctly of a candle he forgot he even owned, and whatever it was in his fridge you had managed to create a dish out of. 

He wonders if it's too soon to feel love for you. 

April

A night out was, arguably, the last thing you had expected to do when you woke up that morning. In fact, you had spent the entire day with plans to stay in your sanctuary of a bedroom with a shitty television series playing to detach from the past few weeks. Your life was busy, and you felt as though you had no time to yourself. Technically, you did. But your days off never consisted of an entire day in your bed without any responsibilities. 

It seemed that even on your planned day off, you couldn't get that. Granted you weren't mad, come six o'clock, because despite talking about how excited you were for your day off to him, the second Spencer Reid had mentioned restaurant and dinner in your morning phone call as he commuted to work, you were begging him to fulfil the plans he was about to cancel. 

He had stayed afterwards. Of course he had. You'd be damned if the man who had just taken you to the nicest restaurant you've ever been to in your life didn't stay over afterwards. And he was quite happy to, it seemed, which made your heart flutter a little more than it probably should've.

"Have you read Emily Dickinson?" you ask him, looking up at his face. You were now in your bed, covers draped over your entwined legs, his back up against the headboard of your bed, your own on his chest. 

"Yes," he nods his head, lips twitching at the way your face fell upon his response. "Did you think I hadn't?"

"No, I guess I assumed you had," you shook your head. "A small part of me didn't know for sure, though."

"Now you know," he says, eyes falling to the televison that had a silent cartoon playing on it (your choice, not his). "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," your lips curl into a smile. "Did you?"

"I always do with you," he leans down and pecks the smile off your face, watching your lips frown when he pulls back. "What?"

He laughs at the pout on your lips, and your eyes narrow in response. In a quick motion, your legs and arms wrap around him, bodies now facing each other, as you return your lips to his. 

"Was my kiss not up to your standards?" he muses against your mouth, and you poke his shoulder with a finger as a response, incessantly begging him to kiss you back.

You had done this before. Multiple times, in fact. Making out with Spencer was slowly but surely becoming your favourite past time. You weren't entirely sure what it was about it. Perhaps the way he kissed like he'd never be able to kiss again, always with so much fervour, and always so desperate. Maybe it was the way his hands felt when they grappled the entirety of your ass whenever you were on his lap, something that seemed so not Spencer Reid. Whatever it was, it was maddening, and you found a quiet, controlled mewl leave your lips when his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to him (if that was possible).

"Mm-mm," he murmurs against your lips at the sound, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, eliciting another, less controlled sound from you. "You can do better than that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you mumble against his lips, semi-breathless, hands delving up into his curls, encasing your fingers in them.

He laughs again, the sound addicting, and melting any anxieties away as his fingers travel up your body, beneath your pyjama shirt, stopping short where your bra strap would be if you were wearing one. 

"We don't have to," you rush out when you feel his hesitance. Though you were no stranger to this part of making out – the suggestive touching – you could feel the bulge in his pants, and you realised this was not like every other time.

"You don't want to?" he asks with a gentle voice, pulling back to look at you.

"No, I–of course I do," you reassure him.

His lips tug into a small smile, and his face leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. "Okay. Good. I want to, as well."

"Good," you answer with a firm nod, and he hums. 

His hands slip beneath your shirt again. Warm – burning, even – though you weren't particularly cold. Yet, you felt like your skin was ice that was melting beneath his fingers as they dragged along your skin. All while his lips kissed down your jawline and neck, until they found your pulse point. He had found it accidentally a few weeks prior, and had used and abused it as much as he could after that. For no reason other than the fact that you let out the sweetest sounds whenever his teeth grazed over it, or his lips sucked on the skin there.

His hands reached further up, and his palms brush over both nipples at once, eliciting a gasp from you as your back arches into him. 

"Sensitive," he notes when his thumbs drag down over them, pulling the same reaction from your lips. You shoot him a sharp glare, and he laughs. His response is then to lean back in and kiss the pout away, gently biting down on your jutted lower lip with his teeth. All while he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning a whimper from you into his mouth.

It was a few more moments of that, before you murmur quietly, "Tell me you're taking this further." 

He laughs in response. Then, says, "What do you want?"

"Up to you," you reply, and he shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it. 

"No. Up to us."

"Okay. Um..." you hesitate. "Surely there's a natural order of things."

"I don't know. I think it depends on the people," he replies. "Tell me what you want to do."

You hesitate. There's a thousand things you want from him, and you're sure the mere twenty-four hours in the day are not enough for them all. Though, you also know time is not running out for the two of you soon. 

Recognising your hesitance, he instead taps your hips to get you off his lap, and you comply, and he lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you, and you almost laugh at his hair that falls down and creates a curtain over your two faces. 

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt over your body, and you let him, your breath hitching at the still less-than-hot air that settles in your room amidst April. He follows suite and removes his own shirt upon seeing your close to demanding look, before he ducks his head down to kiss you again. 

Fingers dance across the skin of your waist as he hesitates in pulling your pants down, but you don't even want to complain as he kisses you. In no rush to hurry him along, you savour his lips on yours, allowing him to take the time to work you up with brushes along your thigh through the fabric of your pants. 

You were equally as present as you were lost in a daydream as he touches you, for you don't really remember when your legs had become bare and his touch had become more direct, but you remember exactly what it felt like for his breath to hitch against your ear as he ran a finger down the damp fabric of your underwear. 

He seems to have picked up on your dreamlike state, for he brushes his lips against your temple and asks, "You with me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly. 

He doesn't really believe you, but you're eagerly inching your hips closer towards his retreating hand for him to need to. 

Gently, he's pulling your underwear down your legs, and you're watching the pupils in his dark eyes expand. You relish in the knowledge of you emitting such a reaction from him. 

A sharp whine comes from you when his finger brushes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit. He does it again. 

"Spencer."

"Yeah, pretty girl?" he murmurs, though his focus is solely directed to his hand on you.

"Need you."

"I can see that," he muses, and he jolts at the way your heel kicks his side. You're pretty sure it doesn't hurt, at least. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You should be."

His other hand pinches your thigh.

You don't have time to argue against him, for he is sinking a finger into you, and every word dies on your tongue, replaced only by a quiet moan and the breathless sound of his name. 

He lifts himself back up your body as he presses his finger further into you, capturing your second moan with his lips against yours. Again. He would probably swallow you whole if you asked him to. You think you might. 

He adds a second finger almost too soon. His fingers were longer than yours ever could be, and he curls them in a way that has your head tilting back and pressing into the pillow beneath it, and your hips rising off the mattress. He chases your lips with his as you squirm away, and his free hand pushes your body back into the mattress as he draws his fingers out, then presses them back into you. 

"Didn't know you were this sensitive," he murmurs against your mouth, and your teeth nip at his lower lip in protest. You feel him smile, and he returns the gesture, scoldingly. 

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you're pretty sure you see stars. Or perhaps that's just the ends of Spencer's hair tickling your cheeks as he continues to kiss you. 

He continues to finger you until it becomes its own language, complete with strings of high pitched moans from you, and his inability to keep you still on the bed. He pulls his fingers out all too soon, and you're verbally complaining about it as he takes his own pants off. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks you, but there's no heat behind his voice for you to seek insecurity from. 

"I talk when I'm nervous," you reply. 

"Are you always nervous?"

"Around you? Yes."

He doesn't reply, but he laughs, bashfully, and you know he finds it endearing. Instead, he says, "I need to go get a condom."

At which your eyebrows shoot up. "Did you bring some?"

He pauses, sheepishly replying, "Yes?"

You decide against teasing him for it, and merely nod your head. "Okay."

He doesn't waste time, but you're left laying there on the bed to watch him, stuck within the thoughts of how did you luck out so well? 

He's quick to return your mind back to Earth, and in a quick turn of events, he's positioned back over you, condom wrapper discarded somewhere in your room — you'd need to find that later before it gets found by somebody mortifying — and his hips achingly close to your own. 

Lowering your gaze instinctively, your lips part, and you mutter a, "What the fuck?"

"Tone, please," he asks you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Bad. But good," you confuse him further, before you settle on, "Shock."

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes," you quickly confirm. "Just... scared. I guess. I haven't had sex in a while and you're..." Not small.

"I'll go slow," he promises, and your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. 

Slowly, he eases himself into you, swallowing your moans all over again with a kiss, hands rubbing gentle circles onto your hips as a welcome distraction. It was borderline filthy as he moans into your ear in harmony with your own.

You hear him murmuring from above you, your ears catching the whispering of numbers and statistical facts you've definitely heard him spewing to himself before. But never in bed. Usually, it would be as he situates at his desk to work. 

"What're you doing?" you murmur, and he pauses upon realising he was thinking aloud. 

"Trying not to come so soon," he answers, kissing your jawline, a shuddering breath leaving him to rest his head in that position. 

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocks. "You just feel so good around me. Can't believe I went so long without you, angel girl. Fuck."

You wish you could tell the you many moons ago that this is how the man you met at the train station would talk to you. 

He's slow as he withdraws his hips from you, before he's pushing himself back into you with yet another moan, from both him and you.

You're not sure when your causal moans break into whines and desperation overtakes you. Somewhere between him taking his time in getting to know what you liked, and discovering how easy it was to make you squirm if he just put a finger on your clit at the same time as thrusting into you. 

He is so good it's almost sickening, and you begin to entertain the idea of this man being your soulmate once again. Or perhaps he's just really good at seeing right through you, which might be a little embarrassing in retrospect. 

"Spencer," you moan, hands looping around his neck, delving into his hair and nails scratching gently at his scalp. 

"Mm?" he asks you, pressing another kiss to your head, drawing circles on your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

"Please."

"Please what, honey?"

"Wanna—" you're cut off with a wanton whine, "—come. Please."

"You do? Really?" 

"Spencer," you repeat his name, this time frustratedly.

"That's no way to ask for what you want," he wanes his movements ever so slightly, a silent warning. 

"Please make me come."

"There you go, good girl," he mumbles, and he smiles at the way your hips jerk slightly at the praise. 

He complies with your request immediately, though you're sure it has something to do with how quickly his own hips stutter into a stop with an orgasm of his own. 

Never one to complain, though, and you let him work you through the star-seeing experience with broken moans and chants of his name that has his own heart fluttering. 

He rolls off of you soon after, disappearing from the bed only to dispose of the condom, before he's climbing back into the bed. Regardless of every bone in his body telling him to get you up to shower. 

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" you murmur.

"I don't know," he replies, lips moving against the skin of your forehead. 

"Can we do it again?"

His breath is warm as he huffs out a laugh, rolling back over top of you, thankful for his lack of asking to shower. "Yes."

June

There's a comfortable quiet that blankets the air around you and Spencer. The pages of his book turning as he flips them every few seconds, and the quiet murmur of characters Ilsa and Sam talking on the television, Casablanca playing at an awfully quiet volume. 

He was sitting on the floor in front of you, who was sitting on the couch, fingers entangled in his hair. Freshly washed, because you were adamant on fixing him a proper hair routine now that his hair was long enough to require something remotely akin to your own.

His head lifts as the piano began to play, and the familiar voice of Dooley Wilson filled the space, his reading of his book now on pause.

"Spencer!" you began to protest when he peeled away from the edge of the couch, the criss-cross pattern in his hair falling loose almost immediately. He turns to look at you, noting the page he was on for his book, before he closes it and places it on the coffee table in front of him. 

"What are you doing to my hair?" he asks you, hands going up to feel the strands, eyebrows frowning towards each other at the loose plaits he was touching. 

"I was braiding it," you grumble, watching as he brushes each strand out unconsciously. "You've ruined it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he muses upon realising what he had done, lips twitching as his hands drop back by his side. "Do you want to redo it?"

"No," you huff, scooting further back into the couch, folding your arms across your chest. 

"Honey," Spencer says amidst a laugh, turning his body around fully. 

Instead of acknowledging him, you kept your eyes fully transfixed on the black and white television screen in front of you. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, the sight of him shifting on the floor. 

Perhaps it was cruel to be giving him the silent treatment so quickly. Though, you have a small smile painted on your face that told Spencer he wasn't in any real trouble with you for pulling your otherwise perfectly curated braids out of his hair. Unknowingly, mind you.

With your lack of response, he found his hands wandering over to your legs, fingertips trailing delicately up the sides of them. Despite the pyjama pants you had on providing a layer between his skin and your own, you still squirmed. And, much to his own satisfaction, your gaze flickered down to his face. His stupid, grinning face, that told you he knew he had succeeded oh so easily. 

"I'm mad at you," you bite, and his eyebrows rose. 

"You're mad at me," he parrots. When you glare at him, he's forced to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Okay. Can I make it up to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

No, you weren't. For his head was resting gently against the side of your thigh now, the slightest hint of a pout on his lips, eyes wide. To absolutely nobody's surprise, your resolve was dissolving, and you found yourself hesitating with a response to him. 

He wasn't oblivious to your hesitance, and the amusement on his face was almost frustrating. Almost, if not for the teasing drag of his fingertips along the sides of your thighs distracting you from the irritation you had towards him.

But, you held your own. "Yes, I'm sure."

His eyebrows rising told you he didn't believe you, and it took everything in you not to respond with the twitch of a sheepish grin. And under his unbelieving gaze, you let out a huffed sigh, and shook your head. 

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he answers, fingertips gently pressing into your lower back as he tugged you towards the edge of the couch. "So I can make it up to you?"

"Maybe," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. "What're my options, Dr. Reid?"

"I could take your clothes off," he says, punctuating his point with his fingers sliding around to your waist, hooking under your pants' waistband. "Or you can choose something else."

"I like option one," you answer, meekly. 

"I figured you would."

He was frustratingly slow as he pulls your pyjama pants down, the fabric catching on the leather of his couch you were sitting on, until you had enough conscious mind to lift your hips up for him.

He trails his fingers back up the skin, eyes almost fascinated in watching you squirm as your inner thighs — and only your inner thighs — received the upmost of attention from his hands. At a whining protest from you, Spencer's hands wandered to do the one thing he knew you were after, and you let out a breathy moan when his index finger traced up the centre of your already damp underwear.

"Oh, you do like option one," he says with a hum, and if you were any less turned on, you'd probably be glaring at him for it. Instead, you were nodding your head in compliant agreement. 

He, thankfully, wastes no time in latching his mouth onto you. He spends a good portion of your evening taking you to the stars and back, multiple times, before he's satisfied, and he's sure you are too. 

You're showered (again), and curled up on the couch, your head now in Spencer's lap as his fingers brush through your hair, the beginning of Casablanca beginning to play all over again. You had protested neither of you appreciated it enough the first time, and you want to give the film its proper treatment. 

"Why do you like this film so much?" he murmurs, staring at the black and white screen. 

"Reminds me of better times, I guess," you reply. 

"Your better times take place in Morocco in the forties?" 

"No," your lips twitch into a small smile, your head shaking, hair brushing across his thighs. "When I first watched this film I was fifteen, with my mom. It was one of the few times we really got along, so... I guess that."

He decides against commenting on it, for your voice had dropped to something a little sadder. "Rick's not a good person," he chides. 

"You don't get to form an opinion on Rick without finishing the movie first."

He laughs at that, but he falls silent soon after, an evident promise that he would wait. 

"Why did you make me watch this?" he asks, as you're greeted with a screen of black, your two reflections staring back at you. 

You turn your head, resting it flat against his thighs as you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"It isn't a happy ending," he explains at your quizzical look. 

"Oh, so movies I show you need to have a happy ending?" you argue. "You like Star Wars, Spencer."

"No, obviously they don't. But when you explained the film to me, you said, 'a romance classic from the forties'. Forgive me for presuming it would be a happy ending."

"I think it is kind of happy," you reply, shrugging as you tear your gaze away, resting instead on the coffee table. 

"How so?" he brushes the hair that falls out of your face. 

"They weren't right for each other," you murmur. "Rick knew that. He loved her enough to let her go, I guess."

August

You are a fragment of every person you have loved, and who has loved you. Tiny pieces of their soul weaving within your own to form the person you are today. From acts as simple as the way you cook your eggs, to reactions as serious as your emotional response to an insult. Family members making up your emotional regulators, childhood friendships determining your insecurities. 

Like a solidified piece of putty holding two pipes together, you are a person moulded to be what other people need. 

Stay quiet, don't react, detach. 

Not even a conscious choice you make anymore. Too many years spent punished for being loud, too many tears cried over your supposed overreaction, too many pieces of your heart shattered each time somebody leaves. Your responses are simply automatic now. 

Spencer Reid had not heard from you in fifty six hours. 

Two thirty in the morning was never a good time to try and communicate, for a plethora of reasons. Never mind the fact that it was late. His mind had been exhausted of its use during a particularly gruelling case, and you had been too anxious the four days he'd been gone to sleep properly. 

For that reason, and possibly many others you didn't know, he was in a bad mood. Your being awake at that hour was irritating to him, your half drank coffee was an awful idea in his mind, and your touch was unwanted by him. You didn't know why. 

You hated miscommunication. You hated the unsaid words that hung in the air whenever you'd look at him. 

The first thing he had said upon coming home was not, hello, or even, I missed you. No, it was a sharp, "Why are you awake?" as he set his messenger bag down on the floor next to his door. 

"I was waiting for you," you had said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Then it hit midnight, and you still weren't home, and usually you come home to me asleep, but I wanted to see you so I drank some coffee and..." you'd trailed off upon seeing his uncharacteristically cold expression. 

"You shouldn't stay awake waiting for me," he'd muttered, taking the mug from you and heading into the kitchen to clean it, flicking the light on. "You have work tomorrow. You need to be asleep."

"I missed you," you'd protested, standing up and going towards him. 

"I missed you too, but you should've been asleep."

Your attempt at hugging him and kissing him in greeting was denied, his hands prying you off his body. He could've ripped your heart out instead and you'd think it hurt less than that.

"Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

You felt like a child being scolded at his snark, which was evidently the reason behind you not listening to him at all in the end. 

He'd offered no proper explanation for his irritation towards you. Even as you'd picked up your things and left his apartment, silently, not even a quiet I love you whispered to confirm that you weren't leaving him for good, he didn't explain a thing to you. 

Out of sight, out of mind, was not a principle you could exercise when it came to him. Every notification to your phone that didn't brand his name hurt your heart, a constant reminder that maybe he was still mad at you, and he didn't want to see you.

It was a knock at your door that pried you from the clutches of your duvet that morning, a half-assed attempt at brushing through your hair and straightening of your clothes was the best whoever dared to come see you uninvited would get. 

Opening the door and your brain computing who it was had you wanting to slam it again, as if this were some movie and he would have the will to shove a foot in the door to stop it from closing. 

Maybe he would. 

"So you are alive," he says. 

"Last I checked, yes," you reply. 

Simple words spoken between two far from simple individuals, until he was nodding his head to the open space of your apartment behind you, and you were wordlessly agreeing to let him come in. 

"Are you here to break up with me?"

His closing of the door was interrupted by your question, his entire body going rigid for a beat, before he gently clicked the door and lock in place, turning on his shoulder with frowning eyebrows. 

"No. I'm... not—why, why would you think that?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Habit."

That hurts his heart, and he's shaking his head almost incessantly. "I'm not. I promise, honey. I just want to know what's going on. Nobody's heard from you."

"I know," you murmur, feet carrying you over to your couch before your legs can give out on you. 

He watches you, awaiting another spiel of words to explain where you had disappeared to for the past two and a bit days. And yet; nothing. So, he follows you, and sits down on the couch next to you. Hands reach out to pick up your legs, shoulders relaxing a little when you let him place them in his lap, and you go slightly still out of fluster. 

"I'm sorry for making you mad, if I did," you whisper. 

"You didn't. Did you think I was mad?"

"I guess. You were kind of mean," his heart shatters at that. "But maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. I was tired."

"No," his fingertips run up and down your legs, the only conscious act he could focus on to keep himself from bombarding you with every worried thought he's had the last two days. "I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I was mad at you. I wasn't. The case just stressed me out, and I was concerned about you still being awake that late."

"I was waiting for you," you mumble. 

"I know, angel," he nods his head. "It's just I usually come home to you asleep on the couch."

"Or the bathroom."

His chest puffs out with laughter, and your heart swells a little in your chest at the sight. "Or the bathroom," he parrots, nodding. 

It was when he was coming home from a case on the border in Washington state, and you had, like usual, tried to stay awake to wait for him. Unfortunately, the UnSub tiptoeing between the two country lines meant the case was dragged out, and he had come home much later than expected. And you had mistakenly passed out on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, after a shower. 

Amusement was over as his eyes found and locked with your own, and he earnestly asks, "Can you tell me why you disappeared?"

"No."

It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him. Just that you didn't know why either. Perhaps it was something you'd need to unpack with a professional, not your boyfriend at ten in the morning on your couch. 

Ever so understanding, Spencer Reid was. Even with the pause of his delicate touch on your legs in what you're sure is another jolt of frustration towards you.

"That's okay," he says, instead. "Can you promise to try and not disappear next time, then?"

Your shoulders shrug. Can you promise that? 

"You can't," he voices your thoughts for you, and you nod your head in confirmation. "Okay. Well, I really want to work this out with you. I need you to want that too."

"I do," you say quietly. 

"Then you need to work with me," he answers. "Where did your brain go that night?"

"Um," you hesitate. You could think of a thousand places your mind wandered to that night. None of them very good. A child again, being scolded for not turning the light out because you were up reading, maybe. "I don't know. I don't like being scolded like I'm a child. I guess I felt like a child."

"That wasn't my—"

"—I know," you cut him off before he can defend himself to you. "I know it wasn't your intention. But it felt that way. I'm an adult who makes her own decisions, and losing sleep before work because I want to see my boyfriend is one of those. No matter how... how stupid a decision you may think that is."

"I didn't think it was stupid," he shakes his head. "I was just concerned."

"Funny way of showing it," you mumble, lowering your gaze, before his lack of response makes you realise what you had just said to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was mean."

"No," hands lightly swat your legs. "No, I deserved that. I was really mean. It wasn't the right way to show my concern for you."

"Doesn't mean I should be rude back."

"I think it does," he says, his fingers going back to tracing patterns on your skin. "In fact, I encourage it."

In true Spencer fashion, his words tug a small smile onto your lips, and you feel the heaviness of what had happened between you two ease off your chest slightly. "That's a weird thing to encourage."

"Maybe," he agrees. "I don't like that you left without saying anything."

"I didn't feel very wanted," you explain. "By you. I tried to hug you, and you wouldn't let me touch you."

"I was overstimulated," he says. "It wasn't that I didn't want to hug you, honey. I did. Sometimes I don't like people touching me, yes, even you," he adds upon seeing your confused expression and tilted head. "I didn't handle that well. I should've told you that in the moment."

"I wish I had known that before," you murmur. "That's why I left. And you didn't try to stop me, so I just assumed..."

"I wasn't very present," he shakes his head to stop your self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. "I barely registered you were leaving until I heard the door shut."

"Oh."

"I wanted to stop you when I realised. I decided to give you space."

"I just thought you didn't care."

"If nothing else, know that I'll always care," he tells you, and your heart stutters at the raw honesty in his voice. "Even if you run away and I don't reach out for a week because I think you need space. I'll still care."

"Please don't leave me alone for a week if I run away," you reply, and one of his hands squeezes your knee. 

"Noted. I won't."

You nod your head with the faintest hint of a smile, before your gaze lowers to your legs. You inhale, then say, quietly, "I'm sorry for disappearing."

"I know," he answers. "It's okay."

November

It was a horrifically awful day that led you to this moment. Curling up on the couch with a blanket covering your entire body, staring aimlessly off into the warm glow of the reading lamp Spencer had bought you many moons ago. 

Your heart was heavy, hands cold, body shivering, in the cool November air that flooded your apartment. Your thermostat was just too far. Not that you were comfortable. Not even a little bit. You could evidently feel each spring of your couch pushing into your flesh, puncturing you uncomfortably. You hadn't had a need for a new couch since getting together with Spencer, usually finding your residence at his apartment more often than not. 

Not today, it seemed. 

Keys rattled outside your apartment door, and you heard the shuffling of familiar feet, followed by the gentle calling of your name to alert you of his presence. 

"Honey, it's freezing in here," he says, settling his bag down on the kitchen countertop, you're sure (you aren't looking). You hear the beep, following by the rush of wind coming out of your air conditioning unit as he turns the device on, and you're silently grateful. 

He finds you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you from behind it, greeting you with a kiss to the side of your head, right on your temple, and a few of your worries melt away in an instant. Only a few, for there is still a bricklayer of hurt seated comfortably over your heart. 

He says your name again when you don't say anything to greet him, and it's more shuffling of feet until he's dipping into the couch next to you, despite the fact that he still had his shoes and work clothes on. Irrelevant affairs he could deal with later. 

"Hey, what's this?" he asks you, quietly, leaning forwards and nudging your arched knees, and your gaze finally tears from the lamp to his face, spots of light decorating your vision and covering some of him.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm thinking."

"Very hard, apparently," he says, lightly. You appreciate the attempt of lifting the mood. "About what?"

"Um," you pause. "I saw my family today."

"Yeah. You said you were. I assume it didn't go well?"

You wordlessly shake your head, and he sighs, wasting no time in bringing you into his chest. You crack, and his heart shatters at the quiet sob that wracks through your body.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, voice all too quiet for your fragile state, for it only makes you cry a little harder. "Angel."

"She—um," your voice cracks. "Everything I said she turned into a joke to everyone. I just felt stupid the entire time. Like everything I said wasn't worth being said. So I stopped talking, because I couldn't get made fun of if I didn't say anything, right?" You feel his head nod against your own, even though you couldn't see him.

"No. She brought up things I'd said to her previously, and mocked them. I mean, I was in the other room so she didn't know I could hear her, but—but—" you choke on your words, cutting your ranting short, your hands petulantly clutching at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. "I'm sick of waiting for her to love me. Isn't she supposed to? She's my fucking mother and yet I'm still begging her to even like me. Why?"

"I don't know, angel." His voice is achingly soft, and his hands thread into your hair, brushing through it a few times; a welcome comfort. "This happens every time you see her."

"Yeah."

You're feeling impossibly small in his arms as you nod, sniffling away hideous snot bubbles you're sure he cared about. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's time to stop seeing her."

"Yeah." 

You're reluctant in agreeing with him, though you know deep down he's right. But it's an Earth shattering revelation that you aren't quite sure you wanted to ever come to. While certainly a thought you've had, and entertained previously, agreeing to it aloud is an entirely different beast. 

"She's my mom, though," you mumble. "She raised me."

"What she did for you previously should never be enough for you to ignore what she does to you now. I've never seen you come home happy after seeing her. You're never anything short of miserable. That makes me miserable, honey," the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, and you hum as a quiet response. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate feeling like this."

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "Don't decide tonight. You're emotional—yes, you are. Don't look at me like that," he scolds as you jerk your head back to narrow your tear filled eyes at him. "But can you promise me you'll consider my option?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

January

He wasn't home. 

Three o'clock in the morning, and Spencer Reid was nowhere to be found. Not in his own apartment, like you had originally thought. Not collecting the last of your boxes from your own. Not anywhere he commonly would be. 

At three in the morning. 

You had tried calling him. Multiple times, actually. A flurry of messages followed in their wake, and you were growing increasingly impatient as you stand awkwardly outside his apartment, that had just recently become your apartment too. You didn't have a key yet — needing one to be cut for Spencer only had one thus far. 

He had promised he'd be home. When you'd asked him as you were leaving earlier that evening if you'd need to take the key, he said no, and that he'd be home all night. 

God forbid you actually believed him, apparently. 

You could've sat at that apartment door for three minutes or hours. You weren't too sure anymore. Staring off into space and making up a list of sentences to say to him when he finally showed up — if he showed up. 

It was embarrassing. Heels tucked next to you, dress bunched at your waist, head beginning to ache from the alcohol wearing off, and eyes beginning to droop from how exhausted you were. 

Shuffling of feet had you lifting your head, landing on an equally as exhausted looking Spencer Reid, who's lips were parting upon spotting you on the floor, and a sickening realisation settling on his facial features. 

"I'm sorry," he stumbled out as he helped you stand up, ignoring your protests as he picked up your heels for you. "I forgot you weren't staying at your friends. I just assumed—"

"—You forgot?"

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even sound a little irritated. It shatters his heart more to hear a painstakingly small, broken tone coat your words, instead of them being dipped in venom. 

He knew it was a pathetic excuse. He forgot. That's his whole thing. He doesn't forget. But he also isn't always called into his job at two in the morning for an in state amber alert. You didn't know that, though.

"Here, let's get you inside and out of your clothes," he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you forwards into his apartment, your feet stumbling as you let him guide you around. 

"What do you mean you forgot?" you ask him, quietly. His stomach twists. 

"I got called into work. It was urgent. I had been so focussed on Hotch being freaked out I left without thinking. I'm so sorry, angel girl."

"Seriously?"

He freezes at your incredulous voice, his hands pausing at the top of your dress zipper. When he doesn't answer you immediately, you turn so you can look at him.

"You weren't home because you got called into work," you repeat the words over, and over, as if saying them more will make them any more sensical. He opens his mouth and begins to say your name, so you cut him off, "I was sitting there for—" you pause, checking the time on the wall clock across the room, "—two hours, Spencer. Drunk, and cold, and you weren't fucking picking up. Did you forget how to use your phone too? Did you forget how to contact your girlfriend?"

"You're tired, honey. Can you get some sleep and we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, actually. We're having this discussion now."

"No, you're not. You're exhausted. Sleep deprivation affects your emotional regulators, and—"

"—For once, can you not fucking Reid-splain to me?" you spit. "I think I'm allowed to be a little upset with you, Spencer. You forgot about me!"

He agrees; he does deserve your anger. Though, it doesn't make this any easier to listen to, and it certainly doesn't make his biting of his tongue very easy. For he wants to argue with you. He didn't forget about you, and none of what happened tonight was due to anything other than his lack of focus on things that weren't at the forefront of his mind. Case in point; a missing child. 

A few more beats of silence pass by, and you're brushing past him into the kitchen, jerking your arm away when his hand reaches out to grab it. 

"Why is it always work?" you ask him. "All of our issues come back to your job."

"I don't know."

"Am I not worth more than your job?" 

The question itself hangs in thick air, and his hesitance is enough of an answer within itself. It isn't fair. You know that. His job is important, and you'd never actively ask him to choose you over saving somebody's life. He knew that.

"I'm not asking you to choose seeing me over saving a life," you verbalise your thoughts, when he still doesn't reply. "I'm never asking that of you. But you couldn't have called me back? Or texted me to see if I could go to a friend's? Or even come to you at work to get a key?"

"I—"

"—Forgot. I know," you mutter, almost bitterly, turning around to pick out a glass from the cabinet. 

It's another few moments of quiet. Save for the tap that runs as you get yourself water, and the shuffling of his feet as he hesitates, then takes tentative steps towards the kitchen bar. 

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whisper, before he can get too close.

"Do what anymore?"

"Us."

The silence that follows deafens, and you have to flutter your eyes up to the ceiling to wane tears that threatened to spill. This was most certainly not how you imagined your night to go. 

"That's a big decision," he says, as if it weren't obvious.

"I know," and it's the finality in your voice that hurts him even more. 

"Can we please revisit this conversation in the morning? After you've slept?"

"My decision won't change."

"It might."

"Humour me with how we're supposed to move past this."

He freezes. "Um—we can talk. And we can even go to couple's therapy, or something," he ignores the face you pull. "I just think we—you—should make this decision when you're completely sober and rested."

You place the now empty glass on the bench again. "I won't have the courage to break up with you tomorrow."

"Is that not a sign that you shouldn't break up with me, then—"

"—Let me do this, damnit, Spencer!" you slam your hands down in front of you, eyes wide and almost desperate. 

He doesn't say anything more to argue with you. Instead, he bows his head, and you despise the crack in your heart at the way his eyes shut and shed a tear before his face is out of sight. 

You're moved out by the end of the month.

June

The universe is a wonderfully strange place. Somewhere you go to when things get too difficult, begging for respite and the freedom from yourself. Or when things are going so well you thank whoever was pulling the strings of your lifeline. 

You tried not to curse at the universe. What you give, you will receive. The love you expend will always be returned to you, whether that is in two minutes or two years. Hatred for the universe was always internalised and pushed down, for you'd rather that, than having the karmic Gods ruin your life any more. 

And yet; fuck you universe. 

You were recently asked who you love, in a group setting with people you barely knew. You'd have said your best friend's name, or your parents, but you felt awfully lonely amongst a group of people saying, "my partner", "my kids". You didn't think you were old enough yet for the most important person in your life not being the woman who raised you (though, she would never be that anyways). 

You said his name before you could even comprehend it. Before your brain had a second to stop running on autopilot to think. The two syllables flying past your lips, embarrassingly so. 

When someone asks you who you love, you think of him. 

Perhaps this was all your own fault. If you had just bided your tongue, held onto your pride and mumbled a quiet, "My mom, I guess", you wouldn't have spoken his existence back into the universe. 

It was a quiet, "Oh. Hello," that'd prompted your head to lift from your phone, attempting to tune out the busy train. And there he was, standing tall, messenger bag crossing over his body. 

"Hi," you say, breathless, air knocked from your lungs. 

"Can I... um, sit? All the other seats are taken."

And like you would if he was a stranger, you nod your head, shuffling a little closer to the side, allowing for him to sit down next to you. 

"Your hair's gotten long," Spencer Reid says, quietly.

"Yeah, I need to go get it cut. You have more—um, facial hair. Like it's more prominent. Like thicker," you stammer. 

"Yeah," you see his lips twitch into a small smile out of the corner of your eye. "I just got back from a case. I haven't had time to shave."

You manage to push down a comment about you liking it. 

And as if you were not strangers, he asks you, "How are you?"

You know he doesn't mean currently. Subconsciously asking you to tell him you're doing awfully without him, that the past six months had been horrible and you miss him dearly. 

It's true, but you can't say that.

Instead, you opt for a nonchalant, "I'm okay," and, "How are you?"

"Okay, too," he says, and you wonder how much truth his words hold. 

"How's work been?"

You don't know if you actually care. Asking aimlessly about the thing you had to blame for him becoming a solidified memory in your brain, and not a current experience. 

"Busy," he answers. "I've barely been home."

Not much has changed, it seems. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies. "It's kept me from wallowing."

"Can't say I've had the same fate."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

It was your own fault, really. And maybe he thought that. Maybe he's making fun of you in his mind for being sad and feeling horrible things after the breakup, because it was you who initiated it, at the end of the day. 

No, he isn't. You know that. Spencer Reid doesn't do that.

"It's okay," you finally say, words spoken on a breath. 

Silence covets the two of you, a thousand words on the tip of your tongue, but none ever spoken aloud. A silent conversation dancing in the air between your two bodies.

Do you miss me?

Yes. Do you miss me?

More than anything. 

But then the train stops, and his station is called, and he's standing awkwardly, forcing a tight smile onto his face, as he bids you goodbye. 

And for a few long half seconds, you watch him walk away, very slowly, for time has stopped for just a few beats of your heart. Then, you're calling his name, and he's stopping, as if he had expected you to reach out to him before he could get too far. 

You stare up at him for another beat longer, and you wonder if he's quite content to miss his station, just to talk to you some more. 

"Do you want to get coffee?"

"To wait an hour — is long — if love be just beyond. To wait eternity — is short — if love reward the end." (Emily Dickinson)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ SAY IT AGAIN

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: you find out caleb had been logging into your phone at random times of the day to keep track of who you were texting. frustrated, you call him to yell at him only to question what exactly he was doing on the other end.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+ , phone sex , sub!caleb (per usual) , masturbation , cnc , use of y/n

a/n :: highkey got this idea from that one scene in twk when cardans kissing jude & telling her to say she hates him..🌝🌝

he had absolutely no right to be invading your personal space. absolutely none.

you were so fucking angry.

caleb was away on a trip with gran. usually, he would simply ask to check your phone, and you'd happily give it to him- knowing he means well. but with the shit he has been pulling, you're starting to question whether or not he really does trust you like he says he does.

you had found out that he was hacking into your phone because the device started acting awfully odd. opening apps you didnt click on, siri turning on without any context, letters on the keyboard being pressed when you never tapped on them in the first place. confused (and frankly a little scared), you took it to a professional to get it checked out. when he asked if anyone else had the password to your socials, thats when the realization dawned on you.

you felt so stupid. utterly dumb. but how were you supposed to know? you had told caleb about the issue multiple times and each occasion you mentioned it he would always say the same thing: "thats so weird, pips.. maybe you should go get it checked out or something." feigning complete innocence.

you had enough.

driving home as fast as you could, you barely reach the front door before you're calling him nonstop until he answers.

"hey pips! i missed yo-"

"you fucking liar."

there's a beat of silence at that. your breathing is heavy, going right into the mic- giving caleb an idea of what he's in for.

"um.. excuse me?" caleb manages, swallowing thickly. he knows exactly what you're going to yell at him for and he's praying to jesus christ himself that he can manipulate his way out of it.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about, don't try to play dumb. you've been going into my phone and looking through my shit. i thought you said you trusted me? what happened to that? i mean, seriously, caleb, i thought we had gotten over this." you say, voice pinched a bit higher than usual. you're pacing around the room in order to keep yourself calm, heart beating at a distressing rate as you don't like to argue with him.

"pips, i really don't know what you're talking about," he utters, licking his lips. "i know whats been going on with your phone has been messing you up, but you don't necessarily have to blame me for it. look, once i get back i'll help you figure out what's wrong with it just to prove that it's not me. deal?"

you can tell that he's trying his best to soften his tone to make his lie more believable, but you aren't gonna buy into it.

"no. no, caleb, just quit the act already. i'm so tired of this. i'll give you two choices," you say, sitting down on the couch; elbows on your knees. "either you stop with the whole hacking thing and we stay together, or i cut things off with you and we never talk again."

for a moment, there's nothing being said. pure silence. he's absolutely speechless on his end of the phone, mouth agape and eyes wide. every few seconds, he'd attempt to say something but nothing would come out- resulting in something that resembled a stutter.

"well? what's it gonna be?" you asked, becoming to grow impatient.

"y/n.." he whispered. "you.. you can't do that to me. i-.. i'm sorry for doing all that crap. i didn't do it because i don't trust you... it's other people that i don't trust. please believe me, baby. i can't stop doing it, it's just my way of keeping you safe."

aaaand now it's your turn to be shocked.

"are you fucking serious?" you yell, and you swear you can see the look on his face regardless if he's visible or not. eyebrows raised up, cheeks as red as roses, eyes backed up with tears. you know how much he hates being yelled at by you... but he deserves it. "you can't be serious. please tell me you're pulling some joke."

" baby, please. i-"

"enough. just quit it. i fucking hate you, caleb."

he swallows. no, practically gulps. he shouldnt be turned on by the sound of that. he really shouldnt. he knows he should be terrified by the threat of you leaving him... but the tent growing in his pants is getting undeniably uncomfortable that he just can't seem to care.

unzipping his jeans, he gently lays his back on his bed, being carefully quiet to ensure you don't hear.

"you're fucking insane and no matter how much i try to talk to you about it you never change. it is draining, caleb. you have absolutely no idea how fucked up you are."

he's nodding against his phone, murmuring small 'yeah's here and there to let you know that he's listening. what you aren't aware of is the fact that instead of really listening, he's actually moving his hand at an insane speed on his dick. it gets to the point that he can't even respond, the pleasure taking over. all he needs is for you to tell him how bad he is and how much you despise him for him to be able to go over the edge.

the fact that you don't even know whats going on keeps him going for even longer.

"...-is so frustrating, caleb! you don't even care for me and... wait, are you even listening? hellooo?" you shout, expecting an answer.

he picks up his phone from where it was sitting on his pillow and takes it off speaker phone to reply. "y-yes, baby? 'm sorry.. i'm, um, listening. keep talking." he responds, stuttering over his words.

you roll your eyes, thinking he simply just doesn't care. "my god, you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so much, y'know that?"

he nods hastily, even though you can't see it. "y-yes. say it again. please." the last word comes out broken as he was embarrassingly close to cumming.

you stop in your tracks, both eyebrows furrowed. "um..." you utter, confused at what he was playing at. "i... hate.. you..?"

"f-fuck!" he whisper-shouts, hips thrusting into his hand as he drops the device back onto where it was initially. he brings his previously free hand down to his cock to stroke the tip, twisting his wrists. biting his lip, hard enough to draw blood, he makes his best effort to keep little whimpers inside of his mouth. it works for the most part... but you already knew what was happening. he does it too many times for you to not know.

"caleb." you warn.

he doesn't answer, he can't answer, mind is too hazy from the force of his orgasm. he's practically like putty on his bed, half asleep and half awake.

"text me in the morning." you say before hanging up and throwing your phone on the bed.

he will not ever learn.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

riddle and how he views his mother

Consider this a part 2 to this analysis! A while ago, I was asked "Why doesn't Riddle resent his mother?", which is the question that the original analysis answers.

Recently, Riddle's Night Sky's Chiffon vignettes were released into the world, and it contains a lot of interesting details that expand on how Riddle views his mother. I wanted to commentate on this new information and how it supports what I said in the original post.

The topic of mothers comes up in these vignettes. Deuce, who was talking about his own mom, quickly realizes that it's awkward to mention parents in front of Riddle, so he apologizes. To his surprise, Riddle is super chill about it and tells Deuce he doesn't really mind, so be at ease. And then Riddle states it outright, clear as day: "I'm grateful to my mother."

Deuce follows up with a comment to the effect of, "It looks like moms are strong in every family", to which Riddle actually agrees.

Riddle credits his mom for his ability to do many things in the present. For example, he took gymnastics classes so he was able to pull off the ballet in this event (one of the Princess in the Tower's required activities). He also learned social dancing, which comes in handy for formal events such as Ghost Marriage and Glorious Masquerade. Most notably, Riddle excels in academics--he is noted as being top of this grade multiple times, has prevented any students in Heartslabyul from dropping out, and is able to memorize 3 magic engineering/coding textbooks in only just a few minutes + helps to keep Malleus at bay in a recent main story update--something which no one else would be able to achieve. He's also able to cast powerful spells in quick succession as the result of his magical training from a young age. It can be argued, then, that despite Mrs. Rosehearts' methods, she did ultimately instill many useful skills in Riddle to set him up for success as a mage. He recognizes the value in that, and acknowledges her for it. There is always a part of Riddle that thinks he is a "better" person today because of his mother's discipline, even if he is just now starting to question her methodology.

He is disciplined and capable because of his upbringing--this cannot be denied. And Riddle can't find it in himself to resent his mother because of that. This woman raised him and taught him all these things because she genuinely believed this was what was "best" for him. How can he hate her for that? For just doing what she thought was her "best"?

I also want to point out how Riddle and his mother are shown to be "one and the same" in these vignettes. Later on, Riddle expresses that he wants to send out a mass email commanding all the Heartslabyul students to prepare at least 10 lanterns each to release in the night, or else there will be punishment awaiting them. He worries that the mobs won't be motivated to help without the threat of a punishment looming over them. Sure enough, when Trey and Cater pass on Riddle's order, the mobs complain and talk about how much nicer it is around Heartslabyul without the dorm leader breathing down their necks. However, the two third years then remind the mobs that while Riddle is strict, he HAS helped them. He provides test notes, edits essays, and hosts study sessions for his dorm members. The mobs eventually realize they need Riddle around, so they end up pitching in and getting those lanterns.

THIS IS PARALLELING MRS. ROSEHEARTS. Like his mother, Riddle is very strict with those under his care--but it comes from a place of his "love", from wanting to see them succeed. And, like Riddle is with his mom, the mobs cannot detach themselves entirely from their dorm leader. I know that book 1 primarily paints Riddle adopting his mother's attitude as a toxic thing (and it is, when it gets out of control)--but with moderation, it also has its useful applications, as we see in these vignettes.

Now let's not get it twisted; none of this erases the absurd restrictions imposed on Riddle, her intense rage, or the child neglect/abuse committed. What I am saying is that she is a person too, not a blob of all things bad in the world. She deserves grace and to have her positives acknowledged too--and this naturally feeds into Riddle's complicated feelings about her, especially now that he sees her bad sides... something he never really faced before.

Riddle's vignettes end on a hopeful note, though I don't know if the characters themselves realize the implications of it. The final scene takes place with the lantern-filled sky, and Deuce wondering why the Princess in the Tower grew her hair out so long to begin with. Was she planning to escape all along? But Jack explains that the witch that kidnapped her wanted the Princess to grow her hair long. The Princess in the Tower obeyed this wish, even though maintaining such long hair is a hassle. To this, Deuce comments that she really must have seen the witch as her mother. Riddle then says that no matter how precious the hair was, it's still cumbersome. "She can't even walk like this." AND THEN RIDDLE JUST CASUALLY SLICES HIS HAIR OFF, NO HESTIATION... ONE CHOP. Deuce panics because the ends look ugly, but Riddle simply replies there's no need to worry, "I do not need long hair anymore."

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THAT MEANS???????? ? ??? ? ????? Long hair is the symbol of Rapunzel's oppression. It is something she maintains because her oppressor, Gothel, told her to. But long hair is also what ultimately frees her from the tower. The same is true of Riddle. He largely does what he is told to by his mother, believing that she is always correct. Riddle almost doesn't leave the library (despite the long hair being an easy way out) because "I've decided. Never again." He's so close to locking himself up in that metaphorical tower and not allowing himself out for fear of incurring her wrath for disobeying. And in the end, Riddle is still able to leave that tower. He so easily slices his long hair, something which prevents the Princess--HIM--from walking. But in severing that thread, CUTTING THE HAIR, he is freeing himself and finding a way to walk independently.

Maybe Riddle can't do it today (as he so clearly still respects his mother and all that she has done for him)... maybe not tomorrow, either... but someday. Someday...!! Someday, Riddle will be able to "cut his long hair" and walk on his own 😭 and then his life will truly "begin"... Why this nuanced writing get shoved into a vignette and not in the Wish Lantern event story itself, I'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND--

[jhdyuiee]

blossom

wildflower - part 1 .

❁ blossom : a new beginning & growth .

❁ pairing: ex!jaehyun x fem!reader

❁ tags/warnings: angst, fluff, smut!, pregnancy, unprotected sex (flashback scene), multiple positions (doggy&missionary), oral (f), squirting, kissing/making out, nipple/breast play, hair-pulling, spanking, fingering, mentions of masturbation (m), pet-names (baby&darling), down-bad and groveling jaehyun (:0), cursing, mentions of drinking, time-skips, bittersweet ending

❁ w.c: 7.9k

❁ a.n: hi! you ask and i shall deliver, part 2 of wildflower! writing this one was so challenging because i was having major writers block, which ended up delaying it's release, aghh. anyways i tried pulling through, so stick until the bittersweet end <3 ! JOLO OUT IN 2 WEEKS (obsessed with roses, like jaehyun babe who hurt yuh?!) 🥃 . anyways love you all, stay safe & jiji out 🤍

“i'll never forget how stupid in love i felt. i'll always regret how i couldn't ever tell, that you walked a little faster, left me behind.”

“kissed me with somebody else in mind. i loved you so much that i settled for less.“

“oh, you were my everything… i was your second best.”

- laufey | “second best”

jaehyun’s pov.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” i shouted as the door closed. i contemplated chasing after her, but something told me not to. how could’ve i been so fucking stupid? why did i think she would understand– no, this whole shit was impossible to understand.

i cheated and lied to her. there wasn’t going to be anything i could’ve done now to undo what i did. i did the worst thing a man could’ve done, and broke her, played with her innocent self. i could love for infinitely, but that still wouldn't have been enough to repair the damage. 

i looked down, remembering the gift she gave me right before leaving. this small gift bag held a massive weight. with trembling hands, i started unboxing it and pulled out a small velvet box.

no, this couldn’t be… now hurriedly i opened it. a silver colored ring, in the middle of the box. you fucking bastard, i thought. i really fucked up, really beyond repair.

i took the ring out. i noted the small stones around the band of the ring, my birthstone, amethyst.

my cheeks felt wet, only then did i realize i started crying. now i regret not chasing after her, spending the rest of my day apologizing to her, pleading with her. she took my happiness when she walked out that door, a part of me with her.

and for all i knew matters would only continue to get worse from here on out…

two lines.

there are two fucking lines on the stick…

“i’m pr-pregnant…” i muttered.

this couldn’t be happening, oh how i wished this was a dream— a nightmare i could wake up to right about now. but no, this is fucking reality.

well i guess that would explain why i was late and the nauseating feelings i kept having. however so i still hoped it would come out negative. it wasn’t that i didn’t want this child, it was just about whether or not i’d be up to live as a single mother.

i caressed my stomach, though still unnoticeable, how would this child be able to live? made without mutual love, and there was no denying this was a result of that night. the very same night before disaster struck.

did the birth control not work? i thought. no, impossible it’d always worked, but perhaps luck was truly never in my favor that day. it’d been about or over a month since that day and a lot has happened, my newly discovered pregnancy being one of those things.

as i walk outside my bathroom and into my bedroom, i gently sit on the edge of my bed as flashbacks of the past month flood my mind. first things first, that same week i began moving out with my shared apartment with yuna. we had a pretty heated argument, both sides equally hurt and betrayed. yet one thing i’d say we both saw eye-to-eye was how much of a scum he was. who knew a simple man would cause our friendship to fall apart.

anyhow, with that out the way i started making preparations to move out of not only that apartment but the city. luckily the move went smoothly thanks to a special someone.

mr.jeong.

it happened a day after my talk with yuna when i decided to talk to his father. i felt the need to come clean, confess to everything that went on. to my surprise, mr.jeong hadn’t yet heard of our breakup nor from his son. i expected mr.jeong to feel upset, or at least angry towards me but he didn’t. in fact he cursed at his idiotic son, sympathizing with me. the woman who entered a fake relationship and lied to him, nonetheless there was no denying mr.jeong’s genuine care and love towards me. he treated me as his family, the thought made my heart ache. i mean it was a silly thought as i’d never will become his family.

our talk lasted well around an hour before i decided to depart. i made the decision to tell mr.jeong that i’d be moving, in which he offered two things. one, to never tell that idiotic son of his where i’d gone to in case he asks. two, money.

i refused to take the money, but he insisted i take it since i’d just quit my cafe job. also adding how expensive getting a singular apartment would be for me. after much dispute… i ended up taking the money. he also added there was no need to repay him back, and that if i wanted to look at it as a i’m-sorry-for-my-idiotic-sons-foolishness recompense.

nonetheless i’m eternally grateful to mr.jeong. i mean without his help i probably wouldn't have been able to move into this apartment in a fairly quicker time as if i didn’t have the amount they asked for. once i settled in, i began job hunting.

just the other day i went in for an interview. i still awaited the call from the company, it was a publishing firm.

i plopped down onto my bed, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. who knew the year would turn out so catastrophic for me. a whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind which eventually led me to a deep slumber. the pregnancy sure to be the cause of my tiredness.

ring. ring. ring.

my eyes slowly fluttered open, trying to find the noise of the abrupt ringing. my phone's screen lights up, vibrating against the mattress. i reached a hand towards the device, not even bothering to look at who was calling me.

“hello? is this y/n?” a woman’s voice spoke.

slightly unconscious i answer, “y-yes, may i ask who’s this.”

“ah- nice to speak to you y/n, this i’m mrs.kang and i work for the publishing firm you applied for.”

oh, now i was fully awake. “woa- hello! nice to mee-speak to you ms.kang,” i stumbled on my words.

a slight chuckle arose from the other line, “yes, well i just wanted to tell you that… you’re in! congratulations, the company has decided to hire you!”

what! no way… it has to be a dream. i pinch myself, ow. okay not a dream. “wo-wow, thank you so much! w-when can i start!”

“next monday, if that’s alright with you,” she explained. “yes! that’s fine with me,” i almost immediately replied. “that’s great, see you on monday ms.l/n!”

i bid her farewell before hanging up. wow. my life is really seemingly picking up after all the bad luck. oh but now there was the baby to think about, i still haven’t called my clinic. “it’d be best to call them now,” i muttered. and so i did, my appointment was set for thursday.

i reach back for my stomach, a faint smile appeared on my face. “my little light,” i whisper into the empty bedroom.

i was keeping my baby, it didn’t matter whether i would be a good mother or not because this child was a little gift to me sent from the heavens above. my baby, not his. “you may not have a father, but that’s okay, my little light. i’ll make sure to give you both so you’ll never feel lonely. mommy loves you so much already.”

my little light. finding my way out the deepest depths of hell, you became my light who guided me to my new beginning. and for that you’re my little light. my savior.

jaehyun’s pov.

i drove into the driveway of my father’s residence, parking before finding myself knocking at his front door. he’d called me yesterday night, urging me to see him today. i wonder what he could’ve wanted. i wasn’t in the mood to see him today or come to my childhood home where memories of her existed.

it’s been over a month since we broke up and my life has been nothing but a shit show. i stare at my left hand, the sun's light reflecting on the piece of medal around my finger. her final gift, her parting gift; the ring found it’s home on my left ring finger. i’ve never taken it off once since that day that i put it on.

i can’t even count how many nights i spent crying, drinking, and cursing myself. y/n… her name hurt to say, verbally or not. sometimes it felt as though she was still there, waiting for me at my apartment, in my car, everywhere. she haunted me everyday, even when i slept.

she never answered or responded to any of my calls or texts, assuming she blocked my number.

the door swings open, and instead of being met with ms.kim i was met with an angered man, my father. “nice to you see you too,” i said when he didn’t offer to greet me first. strange, i thought. normally he’d be chatty but today he just walked, guiding me to his office. we took a seat across from each other on the leather couches he had in there.

silence filled the office before i decided to speak up. i cleared my throat, “so what’s wrong father.”

he huffed, “you’re no son of mine jaehyun.” i furrowed my brows, no son of mine?

he must’ve noticed my confusion because he then continued. “i know what you did, what you did to her. how could you!” he spoke, his words getting louder the more he continued.

shit.

”you think i wouldn’t find out? the poor girl came to me just the other day, a mess, yet nonetheless confessed to everything that was going on between the two of you,” he continued, my eyes widening more. she came over… she was here…

i clenched my fists. “i-is she alright? did she look okay?” i trashed question after question. my mind only thinking of her. he stayed quiet, not answering any of my questions. a beat or two passed before he continued speaking, “i mean really jaehyun… lying to her just to get back with that other woman?!”

fuck, looks like he knew everything. i sucked a breath in, “i-i didn’t mean to-” he cut me off, “mean to what!?” he shouts. “to fall in love with her. to break her. for any of this to happen,” i answered. my vision was beginning to blur. i faintly hear my father, tsk, before speaking.

“get ready jaehyun.”

i looked into his eyes for the first time since we entered his office. “f-for?” i asked, a gut feeling telling me it wasn’t for anything good. “i’m passing the company to you. i’ve been meaning to for a while now, and after all this mess you got yourself in you don’t exactly deserve it but i’m not getting any younger.”

my mouth fell open, then closed. no way he was asking me to take over the company… i wasn’t in any way, shape, or form prepared. heck i was still a mess from the break up.

“and i don’t care if you’re not prepared, a mess, or whatever excuse you have to offer me, you’re gonna take over and that’s final.”

there was no point arguing, when my father made a decision it was final. “alright,” i said, throwing my head back against the couch.

i hear as he gets up, resting my head back up. he pauses for a moment when he grabs the doorknob, turning to face me.

“and to answer your questions from earlier, she’s gone. y/n left jaehyun, she’s not coming back so you should give up. i mean it’s not like she’s going to take you back after everything you put her through.”

my heart dropped, my eyes blurring again. she-she’s gone? y/n, my y/n? no, no… this wasn’t supposed to happen. and so before i could further inquiry my father any further, he opened the door and walked out.

he left me all alone in his office space, me and my thoughts. my gaze drops down to the ring, where a single tear drop landed.

7 months later.

“ow,” you muttered. you bring a hand to your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the little human inside you. “i might as well sign you up for soccer,” i say, feeling another kick that causes me to chuckle. perhaps that was my sign that my little light was up for playing the sport.

for the past 7 months since i found out i was pregnant it’s been… a lot. it was hard being alone, but as time quickly passed i started getting the hang of it. i wished i had someone to go to, but my parents were long gone. i never really had a family to call my own, except now for this little human.

ever since my stomach started showing i’ve been working at home, the company was surprisingly pretty insistent about taking a maternity leave, but i still needed a way to make money. the workload wasn’t a lot, in fact i was only assigned with editing reports. nonetheless the pay was still great.

in fact, next month was going to be my last month working as the date for my birth approached, i needed to take the time off. in the 7 months too, my memory and thoughts of him dissipated. i was doing better, i could feel it. it wasn’t just for me, but for my baby too. i didn’t want my child to be upset with me.

as i got up to go use the restroom i heard the faint ringtone of my phone. i sighed as i looked at the caller id. “and what do i owe you the pleasure of, jungwoo?”

kim jungwoo. my co-worker and newly found best friend. he was the only one by my side and the only one i’ve spoken to about everything that’s happened. shock would be an understatement of his reaction, but nevertheless he still stuck by my side… annoyingly so.

“is that really a way to greet your bestest friend!? i’m very offended y/l/n, after all that trouble of going to get you those midnight cravings,” he says, falsely sobbing into the phone. though he couldn’t see, i rolled my eyes. this guy, i swear.

“oh my, i’m sorry your majesty. please forgive my behavior just now,” i replied. “you are forgiven,” he says back. “but… really jungwoo, why’d you call?”

“nothing much, just… open the door and you’ll find out,” he says. i do as he instructed, slowly walking to my door.

you open it, revealing jungwoo with a carry-out bag in hand. was it unusual to say you developed a keen sense of smell since your pregnancy? well because it smelled like he brought over fried chicken.

“uhm… can you maybe drool later, and let me in now so we could dig in,” he says, standing frozen. i snap out of my hungry state, moving aside to let him in.

we walk to my dining table, sitting across from one another. jungwoo does all the unpacking whilst i watch with prying eyes as he takes the food out and opens it. “dig in,” he announces. i wasted no time, grabbing the chicken and stuffing it into my mouth. i let out a satisfied groan, the chicken tasting so damn good.

you being too engulfed with that damn delicious fried chicken, failed to notice as jungwoo turns on the television. “come back before i finish everything,” you warn him. he lets go of the remote, stopping at some random channel. well the television was the least of your worries right now.

“how’s she doing,” jungwoo speaks up, eyeing my stomach. “i’m thinking of signing her up for soccer when she’s straight out of the womb, little girl can kick,” i replied, earning me a laugh from jungwoo.

a couple months back, my doctor told me the gender of my little light. a girl, my baby girl. i didn’t partially care what the gender was going to be, but nonetheless i was still ecstatic about the revelation. having a baby girl meant i would be able to dress her up, so cute like a little doll.

“jeong jaehyun.”

i whip my head to the television at the mention of that name. my eyes widened, dropping the food from my hand.

“n corps newest ceo is the first to accomplish acquiring various kinds of subsidiaries in such a short amount of time– ranging from luxury brands to flower shops,” the female reporter says as they display a picture of the man.

i squint my eyes, focusing them solely on his left hand. i hoped my eyes weren’t deceiving me because… is that the ring i gave him. no… no, my mind and eyes had to have been playing tricks on me because why on earth would he wear, better yet still have the ring.

“is that him,” jungwoo speaks up, interrupting my thoughts. i turn back around, my mood suddenly plummeting. i don't say anything, just nodding my head to indicate that the man who just appeared was the same man i spoke of.

and so for the rest of dinner we ate in silence, minor talk appearing but jungwoo would always be the one initiating it. i was too lost, going down a rabbit hole about him.

when we finished eating, jungwoo insisted on cleaning up– he even took the garbage with him as he left. i walked him to my door, bidding him goodbye. when he was gone, i headed to the bathroom, a shower was very much needed.

plopping onto my bed, i stare at the ceiling. my thoughts on, jaehyun. a familiar ache appeared in my heart, i thought i was over him but it seems i might be far from it. “i guess mommy isn’t all that strong, huh little one,” i whisper as i reach my hands over my stomach.

you’re not sure what came over you that night, that news report igniting your lost feelings. and so in the midst of your thoughts, you somehow drifted off into a deep slumber.

an interesting one, per say. not only for you but for the other party involved as well…

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

jaehyun crashes his lips to mine, eloping me into a deep and passionate kiss. his tongue slides along my bottom lip, begging for entry in which i grant him.

our tongues fighting one another, and teeth occasionally clashing. my mind began to fog, but i refused to stop. i could feel his love with every kiss.

“strip,” he says in a sultry tone. i felt the air getting hot.

grabbing the hem of my top, i pulled it over my head, and then followed my shorts. i left myself in my lace panties and bra, jaehyun licking his lips in delight.

reaching his hand over, he gropes my tits which earned him a breathy moan of his name.

reaching his hands to the back, he swiftly unhooks my bra, letting it fall beneath me. he groans, admiring the way my tits were on full display. “so fucking beautiful,” he says, taking his mouth over one of my nipples.

he sucks on it, and eventually bites down on the bud. i bite my bottom lip, not wanting to yell out loud.

i look down at him, his eyes staring back at mine as he practically makes out with one of my tits. i could feel one of his hands slides down my back at a slow pace, leaving a burning trail behind.

“you want me to touch you, baby?” he asks as he fondles your ass, sending a small slap across the flesh of skin. “y-yes,” you moan.

“tell me baby, where.” his voice so deep, his head coming up to peck my lips. i nearly melted, “yo-you know.” i take an unoccupied hand of his to my sex, making him palm it. “my pussy needs you,” i whisper as i leaned into his ear.

jaehyun’s lips twitch up, kissing you hard one last time before he begins to go down on his knees. he places his hands to the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs. “open up for me,” he says, and i begin opening my legs up. he drags his fingers to collect the slick that began dripping down my thigh.

kiss after kiss, bite after bite along my thighs. reaching a hand to his hair, i grip it. and when he finally reaches my cunt, i become a whimpering mess. his hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue darted out.

a slow tantalizing lick, and then another. i jerk my hips forward, wanting more friction. i feel as jaehyun stops his licks. “don’t move, or else i won’t let you cum darling.” his warning was clear, i stayed still.

and so he continues, but instead of licks he sucks on my clit. along with using the tip of his tongue to tease the poor bud, before finishing off with a bite. “j-jaehyun!” i yelled when i felt his teeth on my clit.

letting go with a pop, i watch as he licks his lips before diving back in. his licks faster than when he first started, and before i knew it he brought his fingers into the mix. one of his fingers entering you, then two, both knuckle deep inside you. it wasn’t until after he pecked your clit that he began thrusting them inside you.

in and out, out and in. your gummy walls clenching around his digits as they quickly thrusted into you. you feel the stretch of your walls as he opens them, like scissors. the constant chant of his name was such a melody to his ears, urging him to do more.

you felt yourself getting closer to your release as he continued his ministrations on your pussy. he must’ve felt the way you clenched around his fingers, “close?” he asks. “y-yes, m-my cl-clit!”

jaehyun got the message as he attached his mouth onto your clit. with both his mouth and hands working themselves on you at the same time, it felt like you could cum at any moment. with one suck to your clit and his fingers plummeting in you, you gushed out. a stream of liquid coming out of you, splattering all over his arm. it wasn’t the first time you’ve squirted but nonetheless you still felt shy, hot all over.

jaehyun gets back up, watching you as you watched him lick your essence off his arm and hand. “so delicious, a delicacy that you are baby.”

you could almost cum again from those simple words. as you try regaining your breath jaehyun brings his lips to your ear. “on the bed, all fours,” he whispers. a shiver runs down your spine, his sex-dazed voice was one of your favorite things in the whole world.

without wasting another second you head towards his bedroom, onto his bed with hands and knees on the mattress. your ass up, on full display. slap. you jerk forward from the sudden movement.

and another one on the other cheek. you turn your head around, a naked jaehyun behind you in all his glory. his hard, thick cock reaching his stomach. you could see the glisten of his pre-cum. you feel his hardened member rub against your slit, both your essences blending with one another.

then he places a hand on your hips, while the other holds his cock so he could slide it into your aching hole. his cock slowly stretches you out, walls wrapping snuggly around it. you could hear jaehyun’s groans the deeper he goes in. when he’s all in, he kisses your exposed nape before going absolutely mad.

jaehyun was an absolute madman when it came to having sex. when he was balls deep inside you, he felt like he’d gone into another dimension; another world. you are quite literally the most perfect thing in this world, you were made for him.

your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape when you feel his tip kissing your womb, tongue hanging out when he grabs some of your hair to pull you against his chest. you didn’t know if it was even possible for his dick to reach you even deeper, but it must’ve because this angle allowed for him to reach places that have never been touched before.

it wasn’t long before you ended up cumming on his cock, jaehyun following suit after a couple more thrusts. feeding your womb his seeds, which eventually dripped out of you as slides his cock out. you slump onto the mattress, too tired, body giving up.

on the other hand, there was something so hot about watching his cum drip out of your pussy. it turned him on, his cock beginning to harden again. his hands reached your body, turning you the other way so your back was against the mattress. you looked so fucked, he loved it.

“ready for round two?” he says, not even waiting for your answer before he intrudes back into your hole. fucking his cum back into your pussy. his hands, finding yours as he interlocks his fingers with yours. your watery eyes, low chants of his name, the clenching of your walls and fingers, the way your mouth falls open, and your tongue lolling out. fuck. it was the perfect sight.

“god, i love you,” jaehyun groans as he thrusted into you.

there was no stopping him now, he was going at an insane pace. the sounds of skin slapping, his balls on your ass, and the squelching sounds of you both echoed in the room.

letting go of one of the interlaced fingers, he brings his hand to your clit. the poor swollen bud victim to his ministrations again. he used his thumb to rub the bundle of nerves, you clench tighter around him. your own orgasm not too far away.

“k-kiss me!” you yelled. jaehyun wasted no time bringing his lips onto yours. it was sloppy but you didn’t care, you loved the way it felt.

you moaned into the kiss, as you finally came for the third time tonight. taking his lips from your mouth, he puts them on an exposed section of your neck, sucking on it as he came.

filling you up for a second time tonight, you felt the warmth inside your womb. you wondered whether you could get pregnant after tonight. having his babies, becoming parents, getting married— a dream.

both of you crash onto his bed, not bothering to clean up for now. both too tied, and unable to get up. he kisses your hair, whispering sweet nothings and lulls you to sleep. you and jaehyun peacefully sleeping in each other’s arms for the night.

jaehyun’s pov.

fuck. what the fuck.

jaehyun jumps up from his bed. too shocked, unable to comprehend what just happened. he doesn’t mutter anything, he just goes into his bathroom and turns on the shower.

stepping into the cold water, he faces the tile walls. his throbbing erection the least of his worries right now.

“wh-why… why did i have a dream about that night, the night before we-we-“ he mutters, the water dripping down his body.

jaehyun didn’t know why he dreamt about you, the steamy night that unfolded a week prior to the break-up.

yeah, he’d get off to past memories of you but never a full on dream. he didn’t know what to do, to think, to say, to anything.

and he couldn’t even being himself to sleep again, so he showered in the cold. it’s been 7 months, the pain still not gone. he misses you tremendously every single day.

he stares at the ring that still stayed on his finger, clenching his hand as he wants to punch the wall in front of him.

“y/n…”

2 months later.

december 14. the day my little star was born.

she was born healthy, no complications. and luckily i was fine as well. it was excruciating pain but knowing she was close to being brought into this world made such pain disappear.

in fact, today we were scheduled to leave and i couldn’t wait to just go home. my home wouldn’t feel so empty anymore, the thought made me smile.

d/n (daughter name) was currently being breastfed, her eyes shut and wrapped like a burrito. she was the most beautiful baby, though she does look quite a lot like her daddy.

i sigh, throwing my head against the pillow. and before i could fully relax after various sleepless nights, there was a knock to my hospital door. the knock causing me to jerk my head towards the door.

“come in,” i said loud enough so the person on the other side could hear, and low enough so it wouldn’t frighten my baby as she was fast asleep.

i thought it was just some nurse coming in to check in before i left but it wasn’t, far from it. my eyes widened. the person also stopping in their trace when they noticed me.

“y/n…” the feminine voice speaks.

my mouth falls open, “m-ms.kim?!”

what was she doing here? why- wait… kim jungwoo, kim… oh my god. the pieces clicked together, she was the person jungwoo promised to call.

just last night jungwoo called me, apologizing over and over again for being unable to take me back home. i do remember him telling me that he’d find someone else, but… who knew it’d be his mother, ms.kim!

we both stayed frozen. neither speaking, you could probably even hear our breaths. however, the cries of a baby erupted into the room. the cries bringing us back to reality.

i look at d/n, swaying her gently in my arms. her wails didn’t stop though. “c-can i?” ms.kim asks. i look up, nodding my head, handing her my daughter. it was almost intriguing how fast d/n calmed down, falling back asleep in ms.kim’s arms. she takes a closer look at the baby in her arms, “she’s adorable, such chubby cheeks.”

i admire the scene in front of me, when was the last time i saw her? i thought. does she still work for them? countless questions wondered in my head until she spoke again. “she looks just like him,” she says softly. i almost froze, eyes widening. i never told her who the father was, but then again my baby does look a lot like her dad. then considering ms.kim had been with the jeong’s since he was born, she must’ve seen how he looked as a baby.

“d-does she,” i say at a loss. she nods, “i’ve been with them since he was still in the womb, and watched him grow, so i can guarantee you they’re daughter and father.” when i didn’t speak she spoke again, “i probably shouldn’t be bringing him up… i- mr.jeong told me. he explained to me what happened when i asked why you weren’t coming over anymore, and well… i’m sorry.”

wait… why- why is she apologizing. i stopped her immediately, “n-no, you-you have nothing to do with what happened, why are you apologizing?!”

“i raised him after,” she answered. i shook my head, “no, please don’t apologize. you and mr.jeong played no part in what unraveled between me and him, nor do or will i blame either of you.”

she faintly smiles, “you’re too kind, y/n. in all honesty, i thought i would never see you again but yet here you are, you even befriended my son.” i giggled a little at the thought of jungwoo, “he sure is something else, but i’ll be eternally grateful to him.”

we continued our conversation for a while longer before a nurse came in to give me the okay to leave today. i did and completed the necessary things so i could go home, ms.kim helped me. and after a couple hours we were finally out of the hospital with d/n in the car seat ms.kim brought along. she said jungwoo got it for me, as a congrats-on-giving-birth gift.

ms.kim drove, while i stayed in the back with d/n, arriving at my home a while later. we spent the rest of the evening there, ms.kim preparing dinner. whilst she was doing that, jungwoo got off work and came over. he was overly excited to see d/n, shunning me and his own mother out.

when the food was ready, i put a sleeping d/n in the crib i placed in the living room. then i headed back to the dining table, sitting down and for the first time enjoying a homely meal. it was so good, i started crying. when was the last time i felt at peace? when i felt complete? jungwoo nor ms.kim said anything, letting me have a moment.

my home was finally warm and cozy, my new life begun today. my little light radiating throughout my- our home.

4 months later.

i sighed, pushing the stroller of my 4 month-old child along the park. the cold winter weather was gone, and the flowers were in full bloom again. we came for a stroll at our local park, i was in need of a refresher.

it’s been a month since i began working again, and things were going great until a couple days ago when i was informed of a new task. the ol’ mighty task being… interviewing… jeong jaehyun. with the rise of n corps, my company was in desperation to get an interview with him. and if matters couldn’t get any worse, our main interviewer broke their leg a couple days ago, so they decided to assign me with the job. well, they gave me until the end of the week to decide whether i was up for it but… come on, me?!

no way, there was no way i was going to-

“y/n?” a voice shouts. the voice sounding familiar, i turn around without any second thoughts. though now i wished i hadn’t turned around at all, that i had simply ignored the call of my name.

i froze. “j-jaehyun,” i said in a voice that was only loud enough for him to hear. what was he doing here… he shouldn’t be here… no… no wh- “it really is you…” he says, interrupting my thoughts. he walks closer, my eyes beginning to blur. “baby,” he says gently. my stomach churns, in a bad way at the use of the word.

“d-don’t ca-call me t-that!” i say, my voice distorted. i was probably trembling as he walked closer. he stopped in his tracks when the cries of a baby erupted.

shit.

he stops, his eyes focusing from me to the strolling behind me. i instinctively blocked her, hiding her from his view even though it was too late now.

it seems it didn't take long for jaehyun to connect two-and-two together. “i-is that my- our child,” he says in an astonished tone. at least he wasn’t such an idiot, i’ll give him that.

i shook my head, “no, you’re wrong. she’s mine, she doesn’t need you.” i wasn’t going to deny that he was the dad but that didn’t mean i’d consider him as her father.

jaehyun drops to his knees in front of me. his sobs getting louder as he cried. my heart ached at the sight, but then remembered why we were even here in the first place. i turn back, my grip tightening around the stroller’s handles.

i begin walking away, stopping briefly. “you should’ve moved on the day i left the hotel. we are strangers jaehyun, remember that.” he looks up, tears staining his face. i noticed a shine from his finger, it came from the ring around his left hand. i immediately identified it as the ring i had gotten him for his birthday. 

“w-will i truly never see you again, see her again,” he says, trying to regain his composure. i don’t reply back, leaving him in that park.

on the walk home i made up my mind… i was going through with the interview.

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

i was sat, waiting for jaehyun to arrive. our meeting location was chosen to be at a restaurant, where we were designated with our own room for privacy reasons. honestly, i could care less about the interview. 3 days had passed since our reunion, and i felt that there was still much left to be discussed, so what better way than to talk about it here.

the door slid open, jaehyun stiffened. his mouth falling open, “w-what-” i interrupted him before he could continue. “surprise,” i sarcastically said. he looked out to check if he was in the right room, only to be reassured he was. jaehyun sits down, his head down, not daring to look up. i could tell he was keeping his guard up around me.

i softly sighed, “the person who was set to interview you, broke their leg so they put me as their replacement.” i felt it was only right to explain the situation since i’m sure he was wondering what i was doing here.

when he stayed quiet i continued, “and for the record i accepted it only because i felt that we needed to have a deep talk about everything. let’s put aside the interview for now jaehyun.”

he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “w-where is she?” he asks, stumbling on his words. “she? oh! d/n is with ms.kim. you probably don’t know but ms.kim offered to look after her while i worked,” i explained. it was the truth, ms.kim, since the time i began working again took care of d/n. she argued she’d find a way around working with mr.jeong and babysitting.

however it seems jaehyun was oblivious to this. “m-ms.kim,” he whispers, in which i respond with a nod. “that’s where she’d gone,” he continued. “what do you mean?” i asked.

“well, my father briefly explained that she’d gotten a job somewhere else so she wouldn’t be able to work from certain hours,” he answered. so that’s what she told them, i thought. “mmm, speaking of your father… how is he?”

“i guess he’s alright. the old man and me aren’t doing so well, so it’s hard to say…” he says, stopping briefly to take a sip of his water that was placed there by the waiter before he even arrived. “ever since you left, he got pretty upset with me. he forced me into the family company, didn’t even wanna consider me his son. i mean it didn’t matter to me, i deserved it after all.”

i stayed quiet, not knowing what to say at his revelation. “s-so, tell me about her. please, y/n,” jaehyun pleads. i give it some thought before sighing.

“her name is d/l/n. she was born on december 14th. i found out i was pregnant around a month after that day. she was all i had left so i decided to keep her. and god was that the best decision i’ve ever made. yeah, those 9 months were sometimes hell, but i managed. i was scared of being a single mother, but hey look at where i am today,” i explained. his features softened as i continued explaining my past year.

and when i finished he asked, “won’t you let me see her?” i ponder, “i wish, i want to… but, i-i’m not sure if i can trust you yet jaehyun.” “and why is that?” he asks. “b-because of what you did. you broke me completely, crushed up all faith and trust i had for you.”

“t-then give me a second chance,” jaehyun declares. you look at him astonished at his declaration. “w-what do you mean?”

“give me a second chance to prove to you and d/n i can be trusted. i’ll make up for lost time, i’ll love her triple, no infinitely more. please, just please… we don’t even have to go into it thinking we might get together, i-i just want to see my baby girl.”

his voice was getting weaker, practically pleading with me. a second chance, huh. i took my time to think about it, would letting him into out lives be the right choice? i was gambling here, but nonetheless i made my decision.

“f-fine. you better prove yourself worth forgiving, jeong jaehyun.” his face almost lit up, “th-thank you! i most definitely will, i’ll prove to you both. i won’t make the same foolish mistakes. i’ll love d/n, i’ll love you,” he says. i’ll love you. the phrase brought something out of me, touched my heart per say. 

and so after an overdue talk, we cleared up our misunderstandings. we agreed on co-parenting, among other things. the interview then proceeded as planned, and once that was out the way he drove me home. i offered to invite him in, in which he gladly accepted.

ms.kim was shocked to see him show up, confused even but i briefly told her i’d explain it later. d/n was awake, and when i introduced her to jaehyun it was like the most sentimental scene. he cried, heck i probably did too. even more shockingly, d/n warmed up to jaehyun faster than i expected.

it felt like we’d finally become a family, like we could finally live happily ever after. and although i knew the journey was far from being over, i was willing to test the waters. if in the near future jaehyun and i ever get together then we get together, and if we don’t then we don’t.

whatever the future had in store for us, we’d face it once it came. but until then this new life that has bloomed for us like the flowers, will be lived with one another by each other's side.

“you’re my dandelion.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 08. 18

final a.n: woohoo, we're at the end! writing part 2 like i mentioned was a hassle since i was having writers block, worst feeling ever! on top of that i started school again :(( . not the best couple of weeks but i managed to get this done in a week, nevertheless i really hope you all can enjoy it. thank you for your continued love and support, i truly cannot thank you enough for everything! that being said, i will be taking this upcoming week off, and will hopefully be back to uploading for the last week of august. i love you all berry much! please look forward to jaehyun's solo, JOLO, on august 26! thank you&i love you, jiji signing off 🤍

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gooigi (again)

Debut: Luigi's Mansion (3DS)

When I was playing Luigi's Mansion 3 for the first time, I was thinking, "I sure love Gooigi. I wish I could write a Weird Mario Enemies post on him, but we already have one..." but I now realize! That post was written before the release of 3! We had no idea! No idea.

Who is the Mario character with the most fleshed-out backstory? Is it Mario, with his monolithic catalogue of media appearances? No, the insight we get into his past is simplistic at most. Is it Rosalina, with her beloved storybook? She comes close, I will admit, but there is someone who comes closer! Can you guess who it is? Can you guess the character I am hyping up in the post with a big image of Gooigi at its forefront? Yes, you can! It's Gooigi.

Indeed, Gooigi has seven entire pages of lore from the official website, written from the perspective of E. Gadd himself, explaining his origins, how he does what he does, WHY he does what he does, everything! You can read it here, and I'm not going to waste time repeating what was already said. I will just paraphrase: Goo is made from coffee mixed with ghost energy. Gooigi is the result of Luigi's digital data being zapped into it for a default form. Gooigi was sent back in time to Luigi's Mansion 1 for training and research purposes, and is now stored in a canister in the Poltergust G-00.

Got it? Good. Here is Baby Gooigi. How precious! Back before he had any Luigi in him at all. This is Goo in a human-shaped mold, and you may notice the mold itself has no face. Baby Gooigi learned how to express agony all on his own! It's no wonder they took a photo of this milestone!

Now with Super Mario Bros. Wonder, we have TWO gelatinous Luigis to choose from. And why not both? Gooigi is a separate entity, so Gooigi and Wubba Luigi can coexist! But not always... when playing Luigi's Mansion 3 single player, Luigi and Gooigi must be controlled separately. Luigi is able to will his consciousness into the doppelgangreener to control its movements, and it's here that it gets extra weird! Weird to the point that this game basically has multiple possible continuities?

Gooigi is NOT scared of ghosts, at all! He is an anomaly to them! This is very much "distinct character" behavior. But how is this the case if Luigi wills his soul into Gooigi? Well, both concepts are kind of true at the same time! As we can see here, cutscenes will actually change depending on if the game is in single-player or co-op play, portraying different events! Really really weird! It's like if Schroedinger's Cat was a pair of funny green men, one with bones and organs, and one translucent. So what is the truth...? (Spoilers for Luigi's Mansion 3 ahead...)

In the ending, even in single-player mode, Gooigi is portrayed as his own sentient character! Even though this contradicts the "consciousness transfer" lore, I think this is the "true" intention for him. It's much more fun and less awkward if he can be active at the same time as Luigi! I also don’t think they care that much about minor gameplay features being lore-compliant, since Polterpup got pupils in the end of the second game, and those were removed in 3 without explanation.

Unfortunately, as the hotel crumbles after King Boo's defeat, Gooigi falls from the top floor and dies.

He even says "bye-bye" before the fall. I can't believe this. How could Nintendo allow something so upsetting? They thought it was okay to let Gooigi say "bye-bye" rather than "goo-dbye"? That has "goo" in it! It would have been perfect. (I am not actually upset by this at all and "bye-bye" is more in character)

After splattering on the pavement he reforms, because duh. He's goo. You can test this for yourself! Scoop a glob of mayonnaise out of the jar with your hand. Next, travel to the top of a skyscraper. Finally, drop the mayonnaise off of the side! When it hits the ground, it will not have died. Science Fact!

As silly it may be, I was a bit worried Gooigi might die for real, even though that wouldn't make any sense to happen. I was just thinking of modern Paper Mario, introducing new buddies only to take them away by the end. But I should have known that Luigi's Mansion is not at all like that! This is the series where they gave Luigi a dog, and that was that. We don't see Polterpup as often as we should, but it cannot be argued! Luigi has a dog. What would stop them from keeping Gooigi around? Nothing, that's what! He stays with E. Gadd, and is not going anywhere!

Just like Polterpup, I would love to see Gooigi more, though. I would love for him to be Luigi's answer to Metal Mario! Gooigi driving a kart! I don't care that he dies in water, and I don't think Nintendo would care too much either. I would like to leave you off with The Big Question. This is a new, distinct character, who is "genetically" similar to Luigi. As such.

[lurkingshan]

Heesu in Class 2: A Lovely Queer Kdrama

This wonderful little show has come to an end, and I want to talk a bit about why I enjoyed it so very much, because it has been one of my absolute favorites of the year. Let's break it down!

Before I jump in, let me address the elephant in the room: this series is loosely based on a manhwa of the same title--and I do mean it when I say "loosely"--which has been the source of much consternation among manhwa fans who were hoping it would be closer to its source material. It's not, and it's not trying to be. The show took a fairly simple BL manhwa and gave it the full kdrama treatment, building out the world around Heesu and altering much of the story as a result. The show is entirely its own thing, and I am reading and judging it based only on what it set out to achieve with its narrative, not on how it compares to the manhwa.

The Narrative Structure

The most crucial thing to understand about this show from a narrative perspective is that despite being labeled as a kbl, it's really structured like a kdrama. Most kbls are two to four hours total and laser focused on the romance, with little time spent on other characters or the wider world. And that's understandable given the constraints they are typically under on both time and budget. Heesu is different. With 10 50-minute episodes, its officially the longest kbl ever made, if still shortish for a mainstream kdrama (those are usually 12-16 hours). And the creators took advantage of that extra time to make what is basically a kdrama/kbl hybrid that largely mimics structures and tropes from mainstream kdrama.

Specifically, the show deploys a really classic kdrama romance trope that I refer to as the love rhombus, where four characters get into messy lines of attraction that start out mostly one-sided and mismatched before eventually settling into two pairs by the end of the story. It also includes heavy emphasis on friendship and family relationships, and uses all its side characters to parallel and mirror the main story. If you watch kdramas regularly (as I do), you've seen this structure in lots of shows and have a good sense of how the story is going to play out. If you don't, and come to this show expecting it to behave like a typical kbl, you may end up confused. This show cares about a lot more than the main romance.

The Lead

Heesu is our lead, and I find him to be such an endearing character. He feels like an actual teenager in the way he's a huge mess of contradictions. Sweet and kind, but also frequently selfish and short-sighted. Generous and committed to helping others, but also kinda mean and quick to jump to wrong conclusions if someone gets on his bad side. He is the core driver of the narrative, as ultimately this is his queer coming of age story. When we begin the show, he is hiding himself from all of his loved ones, nursing an obviously doomed crush on his best friend, and badly misreading many of the people around him because he's so caught up in his own struggles.

The Friendships

There are multiple important friendships in this show, but the rift between Heesu and Chanyoung is at the heart of the story. They are longtime best friends who have started to become distant from each other as Heesu pulled back and began hiding himself upon realizing he has romantic feelings for his friend. Heesu's feelings, and the fear he has about Chanyoung finding out about them, has come between them and started to weaken the trust they have in each other, and Chanyoung begun pulling back in response. We follow as Heesu meddles in Chanyoung's relationships and struggles with whether and how to tell Chanyoung how he feels, and Chanyoung in turn tries to get Heesu to tell him what is going on with him. They are also joined by their mutual friend Hosik, a delightful character who brings so much fun to every scene he's in and has his own little love story.

The other important friendship, and one of my favorite relationships in the show, is between Seungwon and Jiyu, another pair of longtime best friends. Seungwon ends up dragging Jiyu into his mess when he pretends to like her as a cover for asking Heesu for help, and ends up coming out to her to explain himself. I love their friendship and the way Jiyu balances calling him on his lies with covering for him with others until he works up the courage to come clean. She's a real one.

The Families

I also love that this drama gives us a sense of Heesu, Seungwon, and Chanyoung's home lives. Heesu lives with his three older sisters, and his close relationships with them, and the way they've clearly influenced him to be more in tune with his emotions, is delightful. Seungwon, in contrast, has a much more solitary home life. His parents are divorced and his mom now has a female partner and travels frequently for work, so he's often alone. Chanyoung struggles with his father, who compares him unfavorably to his older brother and threatens to disown him for following his passions. These family relationships give the boys more shading and help us understand their motivations and the choices they make, and also set up some important parallels in the narrative, with Chanyoung's struggle with his father mirroring Heesu's fears about coming out. And in the end we get to see Heesu slowly work toward coming out to his sisters and Seungwon talk to his mom about her same sex relationship and how it affects him, both of which I found so lovely and rewarding.

The Romances

Like all love rhombus kdramas, this show has two primary pairs, with Heesu and Seungwon's queer romance at the center of the story and Chanyoung and Jiyu's romance serving as a thematic foil. Seungwon is pining after Heesu the entire time but hiding it, while Heesu is working through his feelings for Chanyoung and getting increasingly confused as his feelings for the two boys begin to shift. Jiyu and Chanyoung connect and get together fairly early on in the show as Heesu and Seungwon struggle much longer to get on the same page and sort out the various untruths they've told each other. And that is entirely the point! The queer characters in this story have a lot more obstacles to overcome and a lot of legitimate fears about revealing themselves; for them it's not as easy as just confessing and moving on if it doesn't work out. I loved the contrast of these two romances and also found both couples so easy to root for, especially given how generous they all were to each other as they sorted out their mess.

The Themes

This show is entirely rooted in the queer experience, with Heesu using his love of space and astronomy to draw thematic ties to his experience of life as a gay teenager in a non-bubble world. The astronomy metaphors the show deploys work so well to make the story feel coherent and connected, not to mention inspire the gorgeous visuals used to highlight these themes. This story is all about Heesu's journey to tell his loved ones his truth, to sort out what he wants from the people around him, and to find the courage to reach for his own happiness. All of the side characters are beautifully fleshed out into real and whole people, and their stories all mirror Heesu's own struggles and inform his emotional landscape. In the end, we get to watch Heesu mature, fall in love, sort his relationships, and achieve comfort and happiness with who he is. It's a great ride, and I highly recommend it for anyone who cares about queer stories.

[blondiebabes]

Hello, I would like to make a very personal request if you are willing to write it and if you think it's a good idea. I don't know how to explain it, but sometimes I have love attacks. I think if I were Jace's wife, I would have the urge to give him a tight, affectionate hug, pinch his cheeks, squeeze his butt, kiss him, and run away, telling him how cute he is just to make him blush. I would kiss all over his face and repeat over and over again how much I love him. "Do you know how much I love you?" If you could write multiple scenarios, I would greatly appreciate it.

I love this, the plan kinda got away from me so this is the result. Also lucerys lives in this because i love him too much. NOT PROOF READ

Full of jitters and uncontrollable excitement you waited for your husband, Jacaerys Velaryon to leave the small council meeting. You had been longing to see him and pepper him with kisses while whispering sweet things into his ears.

The last time you had seen him was while the two of your were breaking your fast. You had your hand on his thigh and were teasing him by brushing your finger higher then lower. Your dear husband was struggling to talk with his brother Lucerys, with the distraction you provided.

“Brother are you alright? You are looking awfully flushed?” Lucerys asked in a teasing manner, you were sure that he knew you were having that effect on your husband.

“Wife?”

You whipped around turning to face away from the window your were gazing out of and to your adorable husband.

“Jace, I have missed you, how was the meeting?” You ask stepping closer and talking his hands into yours.

“I wish not to talk about that with you. Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens?” Jacaerys asked bring your hangs to his lips and kissing each of your finger softly.

“I would like that very much.” You reply with a small smile.

As you and Jace walk through the garden, while listing to him talk you feel your thought wander to the first time you met him. You were terrified and he went out of his was to make you feel comfortable and safe.

You stopped him and embraced him in a kiss. When he pulled away you took his face into your hands.

“I love you so much I don’t know what to do.” You say with a love drunk expression. He takes your hands in his and says he feels the same. You two hug and allow your hands to rest in his lower back. Getting an idea you slowly slide your hands down his butt and pinch it firmly when you reach the bottom. He jumps and lets out a yelp when you do. He pulls away with a surprised look on his face, he pulls you in for another kiss.

“Whatever am I going to do with you?” He says after pulling away.

[didyougaming]

Hi, gamers. I know the results of the Sandwich Poll have been gnawing at you. So many people wondering whether they answered correctly, which as a reminder is a very important factor in determining which afterlife you end up in when you die. Please understand that I needed a lot of time to internally process these poll results and also that I've been kinda busy/tired. But the people need to know, so here we go.

In total, we received 372 responses. I also spent a lot of my weekend annoying anyone who would listen to me in person about these questions, but I didn't write those answers down.

Question 1 was fairly non-controversial, as it should be. It is worth noting that 3.2% of respondents chose to write-in an answer, and most of these write-in answers were what scientists would call "bad" and "not really useful." So you can assume a 3.2% margin of error on everything in this survey. That's how statistics works.

Question 2 is where we see a real divide. Most respondents consider a sandwich cut into two separate but equal pieces to be one sandwich. This is a real shame, because it's the wrong answer. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Question 3 considers whether one piece of bread cut in half and used for sandwich-making results in a sandwich, and surprisingly the majority of respondents do consider this to be one sandwich. This is really interesting, because despite ending up with functionally and aesthetically the same result as one of the pieces of the sandwich from question 2, a significant number of respondents believe the results to be inherently different. I wish there was a way to better track how much overlap there was for those two seemingly contradictory answers, but the big Sheets page Google Docs is daunting and I don't feel like figuring out how to parse that data, so we just need to accept that we'll never have that exact number. That's how statistics works.

Question 4 mostly just cements the findings of the previous two questions. I do want to point out the one person who answered "who the fuck does this". Sandwich shops do this. Go to a sandwich shop for once in your life and really watch them do their work. Open your eyes.

Question 5 did not get me a lot of useful data, as it turns out having a question that only allowed for write-in answers was a bad idea. However, there are more or less two camps for people who really took these questions seriously and gave it their all. The first school of thought suggests that intent is the most important factor, and if you deem what you've made to be a sandwich, it's a sandwich. While I appreciate the critical thinking on display here, I believe in the other school of thought, which is that when you put ingredients between two breads that's a sandwich, baby. There is a sub-school of thought here that requires those two pieces to be whole pieces, but that's wrong.

One question that I should have included in the survey I think proves my point. If you order a sandwich platter from a deli and they use a single really long piece of bread (think like a several foot long hero) into multiple sections, you would say that you have sandwiches, plural. If you wanted to grab one, you wouldn't say "I'm going to grab a 64th of a sandwich" because you would sound deranged. Despite being parts of a larger whole, they are still ingredients between pieces of bread, and thus fit the definition of "sandwich."

Anyway, thank you for coming on this non-gaming detour with me. It was extremely important that I prove a friend wrong on this topic, and even though I don't think I did that and I think he's choosing to double down on his incorrect opinions, I'm still choosing to spin this as a personal and moral victory. New actual DidYouGamings will come out as soon as I discover any new facts about video games (right now there's only a couple hundred facts about video games at all and I've basically covered all of them.)

[jyoongim]

Hi there,

OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING!

If requests are still open I was thinking of an idea. I was kinda inspired by the scene in Hazbin Hotel where Val is squinting at the tv and saying “who the f$&@ is that?”

But my idea is instead it’s Vox seeing Alastor escorting the reader around town, having coffee etc. so Vox sees an opportunity to get to Alastor by abducting the reader and broadcasting it to the hotel that they have her/him. Of course Al gets pissed seeing then hurt the reader and saves them.

Doesn’t have to be romantic, maybe more that Alastor considers then a rare friend and is very protective.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

Thank you!!

warnings: fem!reader kidnapping, attempted SA, Vox being a piece of shit, platonic friendship

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?” Vox growled as he stared at his many monitors.

 What had caught his eye was that fucker Alastor.

But oh the red demon wasn’t alone, no, hanging on the arm of the Radio Demon was a pretty doe.

You smiled as you chatted to the demon, eyes sparkling before pouting at whatever he had told you.

You leaned your head on his shoulder happily as the two of you walked down the street. 

Valentino took a puff from his cigar, smirking ”Ooh ooo seems like Alastor got himself a pretty lady while he was gone”

Vox had caught sight of you multiple times. Ever since Alastor came back, you were always by Alastor’s side, not once had he seen you alone.

He watched as Alastor took you to multiple places; cafes, shopping, showing you around Pentagram City.

You must have been something real special if the Radio Demon kept you around.

It would be ashamed if Alastor’s little pet went missing now wouldn’t it……

You groaned as you came to. You blinked,  clearing the haze from your sight as you gathered your senses.

You went to move, but found yourself bound and gagged. 

Your eyes widened how the fuck did this happen?

The last thing you remembered was leaving the hotel to buy a few things and being grabbed from behind.

You shivered. Looking down, you saw that you were dressed in rather provocative clothing. You looked around, there were cameras, monitors, and horny demons in the room all set on you.

You started to hyperventilate as tears welled in your eyes, where were you? 

“Aaahh there she is” a voice purred, a cold hand grabbed your chin,making you come face to face with Vox.

Your tears dried up immediately as your brow quirked at him

”now you might be confused dear but don’t fret, I’m not gonna hurt you too bad. Just need to get my point across. How will Alastor feel seeing his little pet ruined” he chuckled darkly.

You growled at him through the gag. 

He sat on a chair and grinned into the monitor

”This is a message to that old timer prick!” The monitor flashed your bound body, wriggling around as multiple demons started the touch you.

”I’ve got your pretty pet, oh don’t worry Ill send her back to you…but i fear she wont be quite the same” Vox laughed.

Charlie and the gang watched in shocked. Why the hell would Vox take you?

A dark aura filled the room as static buzzed loudly. 

“Well it seems I am needed elsewhere” the red demon grinned, smile tense and menacing.

Alastor disappeared in the depths of his shadows.

You panted as you were surrounded by demons. Your face was bruised and blood dripped from your mouth from being striked.

Your gag had been removed by a demon attempting to use your mouth and you had chomped his dick off, resulting in a harsh slap.

”I say we fuck her til she bleeds or even better dead” a demon growled.

You hissed and before one could make a grab at you, the lights blinked.

Dark misty shadows filled the room and you smiled as a voice growled from them.

”Now thats no way to treat a lady”

Alastor.

The demons tried to rush him, but his tentacles shot out and ripped every single one of them apart.

He stalked towards Vox and you had never seen Alastor so enraged.

He had the monitor glitching as he beat him to a pulp.

He powered him down and made his way over to you.

Taking you into his arms, he cooed to you “Oooh my dear I do apologize for the horrid display, i hope you were too uncomfortable”

He materialized your clothing to be more conservative and walked you out of the Vs’ building. 

“Thank you Al” you whispered burying your face in his chest

He chuckled “Ooh anything for you my dear”

Let’s just say, Alastor accompanied you anywhere you went after that.

[goldingwrites]

after hours (chapter 18)

⯈ previous chapter: chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - interlude - chapter nine - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 12 - chapter 13 - chapter 14 - chapter 15 - chapter 16 - chapter 17

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ summary: the nights in Gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed your son and to forget some of your troubles. it’s easy, it’s simple until Vengeance appears in your night.

⯈ rating: mature.

⯈ tw: violence (description of physical abuse), blood, angst, minor character death, hospital settings & medical procedure (FOR THIS CHAPTER)

⯈ chapter word count: 6.7k

⯈ note: here is the june update, please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this chapter, LOTS OF ANGST, we are picking up right where we left off! the next update will be mid july, enjoy!

“BRUCE!”

...

In hindsight, you both should have seen it coming. Because doesn’t life work like that? What goes around must come back around. Or something as poetic as that? Isn’t it the very definition of justice?

Something completely unfair?

Something cold and undiscriminating? 

Maybe.

You’ve never screamed so hard and so loud in your entire life.

Even while you were in labor, surrounded by doctors and nurses, drenched in your own sweat, tears, and even some of your blood. You still felt some pain despite the medication, but you knew it was for a good reason. From the suffering, something very good emerged. From the suffering, you created a life. A whole fucking life, but not just the pain from that operation table, God no. It took months and months of so-called love and affection, years of neglect and brutality, all culminating in one moment, all resulting in something good and pure.

Because that’s justice too.

But this?

THIS?

Natasha is dead.

You saw it in front of your very eyes, and you could still see it. Bruce just apologized, and now, in front of multiple screens, in front of all of them, flames are dancing in front of your eyes. Raw fire, destructive fire, annihilating fire. One tear rolls down your right cheek as this minute and this moment seem to drag forever. And yet, you’re breathing, and yet your heart is pounding so loud you can feel the taste of your blood in your mouth, it’s wet and dry at the same time, and, and, and...

“Alfred, Alfred...” You say the name of Bruce’s guardian, breathlessly. “What’s going on... What’s going on?”

“I...” He sounds shaken, you turn to him, and the distress on his face is gone in an instant. Just like that, in a flash, it’s gone. Yes, it’s chilling the way his expression shifts and his demeanor changes, you know, just like you, Alfred is worried, except he knows the next minutes will be crucial. And he must fulfill his duty, not just to Bruce but to Vengeance as well. “Let me see if we can get anything from the police radio. we need to know exactly what’s happening, it’s important.”

You nod, seeing Alfred and hearing Alfred sound so sure of himself is comforting in a way. Internally? You want to grab his shoulders and remind him that there was a bomb next to Bruce. How can he be so sure Bruce is okay? Does Vengeance suit protect him against that? Shit, you should know those answers, how useless can you be? 

The thought strikes you as Alfred seems to be playing with the buttons of a very old radio, looking for a signal. You come closer as he detects nothing but static, and just as you’re about to ask him about Bruce, a voice comes from the other side. Someone is coughing loudly, they spit next, and from experience, you know, they just spat some blood and a lot of it.

“CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? Shit, shit... it’s a fucking set up... we’ve been played... everything is... the bank is burning, not just, the history museum and shit... Arkham... multiple squads have been hit, we lost signal... we NEED back up. Please, please... my partner isn’t moving... shit, Gary, please... PLEASE!”

There’s a sob, and it’s gut-wrenching, it shakes you in your boots, and you have to hug your own body just so you don’t end up in the same state. Whoever is on the other side, whoever is sending this message, they don’t have long and they probably know it.

“Alfred...” You put one hand over the man’s shoulder. “We... we can’t let him out there, we have to go get him.”

“Agreed,” Alfred is up on his two feet next, a firm expression on his face. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but the circumstance...”

“We’re past the point of no return, Alfred, ask away...”

“Can you use a weapon? Of any kind?”

“No, unfortunately no.”

“Then, you leave that to me, you’ll be driving.”

“I can do that.”

“Miss... If we go retrieve Master Wayne, you have to do as I say, when I tell you to do it.”

“I will.”

“We won’t be rescuing anybody else, unfortunately.”

“I get it, we get Bruce and we come back here.”

“Exactly.” Alfred nods. “Now follow me.”

You nod, and you automatically follow Alfred. You don't know if it's his tone or his confident stride as he leads you to another corner of Vengeance's base of operation. But you follow, you're ready to follow, to listen and to do anything he tells you to do, especially if it means finding and retrieving Bruce.

He has to be okay.

He just has to be.

He made a promise to you.

No, correction, they made a promise to you.

Both of them. Vengeance and Bruce, they made a promise to you. But it doesn't mean that you are going to sit idly and wait for him. No, for them, you will do the impossible. He's only human, that's something that Bruce tends to forget, and quickly at that, you don't unfortunately. How could you forget that simple and yet very important fact when you've spent so many nights cradled and shielded in his arms?

With your ear pressed right against Bruce's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

That is your favorite melody, one you could always dance to.

You should tell him next time you see him.

Alfred pushes open a heavy set of doors, and you're not even surprised or phased as you face multiple arrays of weapons: guns, rifles, knives of various sizes, and even a few swords. You're waiting for his instructions, and the first thing he does is to give you a bulletproof vest and tell you to watch what he does. He passes one too, securing it with a belt at the bottom, and you copy Alfred's movements quickly and easily.

"Good, very good."

You know he's not talking to you, Alfred still gives you a once-over, probably to make sure you are going to be protected. Once that's done, he grabs a bag and starts shoving a few weapons inside. Various firearms, a few grenades, and finally a first aid kit. You know the weapons are for him to handle, you're one hundred percent sure of it, especially when seeing the resolute look on the older man's face. He closes the back quickly, and finally, he grabs what you know is a shotgun, and finally, Alfred turns to you.

"Let's go."

Next, the butler leads the way to the familiar garage. You don't take any of Bruce's fanciest cars, no, Alfred chooses a practical car, and he hands you the key to an SUV. You nod, still silent as you slip into the driver's seat and fasten your seatbelt. You're trembling, you realize it as you grip the steering wheel, your knuckles change color, and when you turn to Alfred, you find him inputting your destination into the GPS.

Gotham National Bank, Vengeance's last known location.

When he turns to you, he offers you a soft smile.

Your mouth is so dry, part of you is scared, terrified even, are you really about to do something so risky? Yes, you think the next second, for Bruce, you will do absolutely anything.

Alfred says your name with his usual kindness, pauses, and then continues. "From now until we reach our destination, I want you to drive. And just drive. Don't stop at any sign or red lights, just drive."

"Okay." You nod once more. "What about roadblocks or potential police cars?"

"Well, this car is registered under Master Bruce's name, so we can afford a few transgressions, and honestly? I think, and I'm hoping no one notices us in the chaos."

"Good point. Okay, let's go, I don't want to waste any more time."

"Of course."

You exchange one final look with Alfred, and finally, you start the car.

This isn't your first time driving, and yet, it feels like the first time. Everything is new and daunting. You're glad for the cold and empty voice giving you directions. It's a few minutes before you will reach the center of town, and unsurprisingly, the streets are empty on this side of town, no pedestrians, no other vehicles. Peaceful and quiet. You follow Alfred's advice and you ignore the stop signs and the lights, you just drive. Foot pressed on the accelerator, you don't stop, you can't stop.

No, there's too much on the line.

After a particular sharp turn, it's been some time since you drove a vehicle this side, you see the chaos and the madness. And more importantly, you hear it. Yes, the very distinct siren of a fire truck, yes, one speeds past your vehicle, without paying any attention, and that's when the flames come into full view. Orange, red, soaring, and powerful, a couple of buildings are on fire, and there's some sort of rampant panic in the street, as people are running away from those buildings. Police officers, civilians, fire fighters, it's a slew of people moving, shouting, coughing... surviving.

"Take the next left and you will reach your destination in three minutes."

You snap out of it; Alfred gave you some precise instructions, and right now? You're so glad he did, you're just here to drive. Drive to Bruce. Drive to the one man who made you think that maybe you deserved a little bit more.

Drive to the man you love and hopefully find him in one piece.

Drive to the man you love.

Fuck... you should tell him that. Before you lose any chance to do so.

Because it has to be love... right? 

Right?

You steer left, it's sloppy, and you hit the curve, but Alfred doesn't comment, and neither do you. Once the wheels of the car are straight, you push on the accelerator with renewed purpose, because it has to be less than three minutes. You have to make it now. Now or never.

"You have reached your destination, National Bank of Gotham City. Have a pleasant evening."

You refrain the urge to roll your eyes at the GPS and its disembodied voice, it doesn't know the whole situation after all, or why you're driving in the middle of the goddamn night. You stop the engine and turn to Alfred.

"Now what?"

"Now you follow me and we go get Master Bruce."

Almost in sync, you both exit the car.

Outside? it's worse, it's so much worse, the first thing that invades your senses is the very distinctive smell of burned fabric. And burnt flesh, part of the building is still on fire, but you spot two firetrucks and a slew of firefighters and police officers, one side of the building is being hosed down by a giant spray of water, and you can only pray that's wear Bruce is located.

"Follow me!" Instructs Alfred, and it's easy to do so.

Yes, amidst the confusion and the chaos, it's very easy to just enter the bank. Maybe someone shouts at you to stop, maybe someone tells you to go get checked by a doctor, but as you enter the bank and you see the broken glass everywhere, you're welcomed by a chill silence and smoke everywhere. You just focus on Alfred, the square sureness of his shoulders as he makes his way up the stairs. You're running the next second, retracing Vengeance's steps and actions. You don't have a motorcycle, so it's slower, and the higher the climb, the heavier that white foggy smoke becomes, and the more you cough. Both you and Alfred but neither of you stops, no, you don't. 

"Come on, just a little bit more..."

Alfred's voice guides you and for a few minutes, it's like your anchor, you force a deep breath as you finally stop climbing the stairs, fucking, and you almost regret it when you cough the next second. But you don't stop, you keep following Alfred, and soon enough, he forces his way into a locked room. The hard shove he gives the door doesn't seem to cut it, so, almost naturally, he shoots at the handle with his powerful gun. The sound is loud, but not as loud as your heartbeat, not as hard as the rustling of the wind invading your ears as you enter this room.

There's no smoke, no, the floor-to-ceiling windows have been smashed, and there's a cold wind in the room. Some flames are still dwelling about, but they are about to disappear and...

"BRUCE!"

There he is, in the center of the room, that dark, unmoving form, it's him? Right? The shape of his suit, the shape of his mask, and that pale jaw? You know it's his, you know it's him, you've traced the contours of his face so many fucking times: in your sleep, in anger, in desperation, in a middle of a desperate embrace... it's him, you'd bet your life on it, it's fucking him.

You're faster than Alfred, you don't know how, but you are, and immediately, you rush to his side. Instantly, you're on your knees, grabbing his face. You remove the mask as gently as you can. His eyes are closed, there's blood everywhere on his face, and the contrast is so striking with his pale marble skin, you want to cry. You want to cry and go do the same to the person who hurt him, yes, you want to tear and destroy, just because of what they did to him.

Alfred is there too, and he immediately checks for a pulse; you take in his relieved sigh as he detects one.

"Please, tell me you can hear me, Bruce, we're here, open your eyes, please..." You cradle his jaw with shaky hands, you just need him to open your eyes to signal that he will, somehow, against all odds, survive this. 

"His heartbeat is faint but here and... we'll have to take off the suit to see the state of his injuries and..."

"Alfred, there's so much blood on his face, why is there so much blood on his face?"

Just as you ask the question, your hands move to his head, that's when you detect a soft spongy spot, that's where the blood comes from, and Alfred groans when you show him your hands covered in blood.

"He might not come to for a while, we need to... okay, hold him like that." Alfred pulls out the first aid kit, and you watch him work as quickly as possible. He presses some sort of compress to Bruce's head to stop the bleeding and probably stop any further complications. Bruce makes a sound of that, but still, his eyes remain shut. The sound alone? It feels like a knife slicing you in half, but you ignore it, this isn't about you right now, this is about him, you need to do everything you can right now...

"I.... we need to take him to a hospital, this is beyond my expertise, and he needs proper medical attention."

"Alfred, how are we...? They can't know, nobody can know."

"You're right... But there has to be a back entrance, something, we'll head there, you bring the car around while I wait with him, and in the car, we remove his suit and go to a hospital... Okay?"

"Okay, yes, let's... let's just..."

For the next part, you have to let go of Bruce, he's safe in Alfred's arms, and if you were doubting the other man's strength, you don't anymore, not when he manages to get Bruce up to his feet, one of Bruce's arms over Alfred's shoulders. They make for a sore sight, especially with Bruce's head just falling down, the blood still on his forehead and nose, and... you gasp loudly next.

"What?" immediately asks Alfred.

"Look, his right leg, it's..." The angle isn't right, and if Bruce were awake, you are one hundred percent surer he would scream in pain, absolutely no doubt of it.

"I see... it appears to be broken. Even more reason to take him to a hospital, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, agreed."

You nod, without a single hesitation, you plant a quick kiss on Bruce's lips, and you move, ready to bring the car around and to leave this madness.

You need to; this isn't just about you now.

***

Breathing is an automatic process, a natural phenomenon. And for that, you're glad, because you're pretty sure you would have forgotten to take a breath otherwise, with all that's currently happening.

Oddly enough, it's easy to bring the car around the bank, and Alfred is right, there are multiple back entrances, probably for deliveries and such, and it's easy to meet him and Bruce back them. Outside? In the cold night air? Bruce looks even worse, but you somehow manage to lay him down in the back seat of the car as quickly as possible.

You don't need Alfred to tell you to drive you to the nearest hospital; you do it without a second thought. Once again: automatic. Driving also is, once your hands are around that steering wheel, you know exactly what to do and what direction to take. You don't need to use the GPS, you're more than familiar with the route, and you take Bruce to Gotham's general hospital. You pass a few cars, but like Alfred instructed you before, you don't stop. No, while you drive, you hear the older man strip Bruce of his suit, leaving him in loose black clothing. 

Alfred doesn't find any more blood, he tells you, so Bruce is lucky in a way. But there's that spot on his head where he stopped the bleeding earlier, his broken leg, and one of his flanks has suffered some mild burning. Alfred doesn't offer you more information, and maybe that's for the best; you wouldn't be able to drive otherwise.

You're silent when you reach the hospital and the emergency room. Alfred takes the lead then. He lies so easily, as nurses and people suddenly surround Bruce. Bruce had a meeting with investors at the bank. He stayed behind to go over some files, and that's when the bank was attacked, that's when he was attacked, and the explosion occurred. It's a good story, plus, who's going to question the richest man in the city? Of course, he'd have a private meeting at the bank; it makes sense.

The doctor informs you that the urgent matter is Bruce's skull; they need to assess if it's fractured or if it's more damaged. His legs and his burning marks are secondary, according to the doctors.

"But he'll wake up, right?" You hear yourself ask the doctor, surprised to hear that you found your voice. For Bruce, you would, of course, you would.

"We'll know more after the first series of exams," the doctor offers you an impersonal reply and an empty smile. You suppose that it's just another day for him. "It's a good thing you brought him when you did... We will let you know as soon as we get the initial results.... and if anything needs to be decided and signed, you'll be notified."

You nod, it's the only thing you can do before your gaze falls on Bruce. On that hospital bed, he looks massive. He looks even paler and yet still impressive. The very picture of a fallen giant, you hate that comparison, you hate it even more when the hospital bed is pushed away and Bruce disappears from your view. You almost jump out when Alfred presses one hand to your shoulder, but still, you let him guide you away. To a waiting room.

But not the usual waiting room, this one has actual comfortable chairs, a water fountain, and the heating works. There's no one in sight, and you can't even laugh at the privilege that money brings, or roll your eyes at it. Honestly, you're glad, you don't want to be facing anyone right now. You've heard the radio signal and you know many police officers and some civilians' lives are in danger, but... You don't care. As bad as it sounds, all of that is background noise, all that matters is Bruce and Bruce only.

You find a chair easily, your feet are on it too, as you fold your legs and press your knees to your chest, just so your chin can rest on them.

"Now we wait?" You mumble, eyes on Alfred next.

He's still standing, and he nods. "Yes... I do have to leave you for a moment, some matters to take care of... I also need to check something on the police feed... I need to make sure that..." Alfred pauses, a sad expression on his face when he resumes his sentence. "They have found Natasha's body."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Your voice is miles away as you say this. She's dead, she's dead, and you're not crying, there are no tears in your eyes, if anything, you feel tired. From this night, from every other night, from the dread, and for worrying. It's horrible, but in a way, you don't have to worry about Natasha anymore, she's dead, right?

That's the final leap... isn't it?

Gosh, you're such a horrible person.

Just as you think that, your lower lip trembles and Alfred appears in your field of you. He's on his knees in front of you, and he grabs your two hands.

"I know this is hard, but believe me, the hardest part is done. He will wake up, I'm sure of it... Master Wayne has been stubborn since he said his first word."

You chuckle despite yourself, so glad for Alfred, and you squeeze his hands next.

"Okay," you manage.

"I won't be too long... I will also grab your mother and the little one and make sure they are safe at the manor."

"Oh yes, that... considering everything happening tonight... yes. Thank you."

"But of course, you're family and so are they. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Alfred leaves you with an honest smile, a miracle considering the circumstances.

***

You wait.

There's nothing else to do but wait.

Sat down on that chair, you wait, all on your own. It's quiet and strangely calm in the room, as if, a few feet away from you, the one person who made you want to change is not in a critical condition. But that's the thing, you don't know. You're no doctor, but you know blood spilling from Bruce's head? It can't be good. You do your best not to focus on that, and you wait. Your eyes are glued to the clock on the wall; your arms wrapped around yourself in some sort of pathetic attempt to warm you up.

And tic-tic-tic... the arrows move, they follow their own pace, they follow their own rules, and they move. 40 minutes pass before your phone, deep in your pocket, buzzes. It's a text from Alfred: your mother and your son are safe back at the manor, security is there, and they won't go out until it's absolutely necessary. You send a simple thank you in response, and when the phone disappears, it's back to waiting.

It's an hour before you face the same doctor you addressed earlier, and once he has confirmed your name, you are one of Bruce's emergency contacts, he gives you the news.

Bruce's right leg is indeed broken.

That's not worrying, what's worrying is that he is suffering from internal bleeding, right inside his brain, and if they don't move forward with an operation, it could lead to some dangerous consequences.

"It's early enough that if we operate now, Mr. Wayne is likely to wake up in the next 72 hours without any permanent damage. He'll have to take it easy and see a neurologist regularly, but-"

"Yes. Go ahead, whatever you need to do, do that," you interrupt the doctor, and loudly at that, without a care in the world, how could you care when there's a chance this night actually end.

He nods, you sign the piece of paper he hands you, and it's back to waiting.

Hours pass.

Hours upon hours, and at 3 am, your bladder and your stomach have decided that you have had enough. Alfred isn't back, you have no more messages from him, you did message him right after the doctor left you in the room, after all, he's the man who raised Bruce, he deserves to know about his well-being and his future. But since then, radio silence. You suppose he is busy, he's not just Bruce's family, he also looks over Vengeance's shoulder, so he has to make sure everything is okay there too.

After all, Natasha is dead.

The thought brings you back to your feet, and you venture into the hospital. Finding the toilets is easy enough; you keep venturing down until you find a vending machine. You buy a bottle of water and a Coke with crumbled dollars from the back of your pocket. The hallway is noisier than the waiting room you left, and despite yourself, you follow that noise. It's always been ingrained in you, it seems, to follow the noise, to follow the chaos. Your feet lead you into what is an emergency room. Doctors, nurses, and hospital personnel are moving about, shouting orders at each other, as they do their best to help all the people here.

By your estimate, there are at least 50 people here, mostly police officers, but not just, you see people without uniform, you see people bleeding, people crying, people praying... All crammed here, in one room. While you're in a pristine waiting room, waiting for Bruce to be treated.

The nausea is there, it's by pure chance that your stomach is almost empty, and you force yourself to swallow your saliva so you don't lose grip of reality.

Because this is unfair, isn't it?

The best doctors in the hospital are probably with Bruce.

But what about those people? They deserve the best too, they're suffering too. There is no way in hell, this is fair. 

You can't stay here, you decide, you're physically fine for once, and you feel like an intruder. Or one of those visitors at the zoo, peeping through the glass windows. But this is not a fucking game, no, this is life and death.

You take a deep breath once you're back in the waiting room, and you empty half of your bottle of water, just to steady yourself.

Fuck...

You just need this night to end.

***

Bzz... Bzzzz...

It's 6 am when you move again, but only because your phone is ringing in your pocket. You slowly go for it, you're half dreading a call right now. If it's your mother, you won't be able to tell her or explain to her where you are and why.

Oh, yeah, you know Bruce that you love so much and think I should probably settle down with? He's actually a masked vigilante, the masked vigilante, he dresses up as a bat, goes out at night, and administers his own brand of justice.

...

A great conversation, you're one hundred percent sure of that.

Thankfully, it's Alfred, and you're glad for it. He's calling you and not texting, meaning it must be important, and after a deep breath, you pick up.

"Yes?"

"Sorry for the early call..."

"No need to apologize."

"Any news on Master Wayne?"

"No, I'm guessing the surgery is still ongoing, no doctor or nurse came back to talk to me, so..."

"So, for now, you're waiting."

"Yes," you sigh as you let out the simple word. You're more on edge than at any other time in your life. Maybe in a few days, you'll be able to look back on this moment, to this very moment, and find that you overreacted a little bit. Or maybe underreacted? You have no way to tell for the moment.

"Hang in there, I'm sure Master Wayne is in very capable hands." Alfred pauses, and you nod. "I wanted to update you on our situation..."

"Go on."

"They've found Natasha's body, and her family has been informed."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yes, she was married, the police have informed her husband." A husband? Natasha never mentioned anything of the sort, you suppose that all the info that she gave you at the club, about her crazy life, and her need for money? That was completely fake, just a way to gain your trust and see if you could give her some intel in return.

"Is there a TV in the waiting room?" Alfred asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm..." You look around and finally spot the lifeless black box. "Oh yes, there is."'

"You might want to turn it on soon, the mayor will make an address, from what I have heard."

"Is she?"

"Yes, it's... well, it's worse than we thought. There were multiple explosions, you see, at the same time, at the bank, the museum, but not just. There was also an explosion at the Arkham Asylum."

"You're joking, right?" You hear yourself.

"Oh, I wish I were, but there was, and turns out about 40 percent of the prisoners were able to escape and hide amongst the chaos. So, it wasn't random, it was..."

"A trap." You finish for Alfred, a tired expression on your face. "Just a trap. You heard what Domi... what he said before everything went down." You stop yourself from revealing too much in here. Who says the hospital is safe? No one, absolutely no one. "That he was the one pulling the strings, he knew about Natasha, he knew where we would be tonight, and everything was timed? And well executed? And they didn't take anything from the bank or the museum, I bet?"

"You are correct," drily confirms Alfred.

"No surprise there. Natasha did say someone in the asylum was being a supplier; it's almost as if it was their goal from the beginning. That as well as weaken the police department and... Vengeance."

"Hmm... as much as I hate to admit it, I believe you are right in this instance." Alfred sighs, you can still sense the irritation and frustration in his voice, two emotions that you share. "We've been played and expertly at that."

"Yeah, we have..."

"I.... I have some matters to look at. Are you okay on your own?"

"Of course, you do what you have to do. We both know, the moment Bruce opens his eyes, he'll want some answers, and as fast as possible."

"Yes... Please text me if you need anything, I can send Orlando over."

"Will do, thank you."

"Don't mention it."

You hang up. Soon after, you grab the remote lying on top of a stack of untouched magazines, turning up the TV. You don't have to wait too long before a BREAKING NEWS logo appears on the screen. Just as the camera zooms out and focuses on Bella Reál, the mayor of Gotham, you find your seat again. The black woman is at the police station, and you can tell after one glance that a couple of microphones are in front of her, and a few flashes are going on at once. After a brief pause, she speaks.

"My fellow Gothamites, it is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today. As many of you are already aware, several buildings in the city have been attacked by a criminal organization and its leader, Domino. Most of the victims have been police officers and their fellow colleagues. For those who are hurt and seeking medical help, please make your way to the nearest hospital where we will take care of you, regardless of your status." She pauses, you are focused on her face, how could you not? She sounds the part, and she looks the part. "I now declare the city of Gotham to be in a state of emergency. over the next few hours and days, several measures will take effect to ensure the protection of all the citizens of Gotham. The first one will be to close the city off, with the help of the national guard, no one is to come in and out of the city until this matter is resolved." She sounds so sure that you shiver in your seat. This feels too familiar, it's almost been three years since the flood and that nightmare.

Is the city back to square one? 

Was nothing done? Was nothing changed?

"I urge every citizen to limit their trips outside, remain at home safe, and to report any suspicious behavior to the police." Your mother and your son are safe at the Wayne Manor, this is probably the safest place in town right now, most likely.

"Now, to the criminals and any person with ill intent watching this... let me be clear: none of this is tolerated. You will be apprehended, you will be arrested, and you will be prosecuted with the full extent of the law." Bella now sounds downright vicious. She takes this personally; there is no doubt in your mind. “There are tough times ahead of us. The next hours and the next days will determine who can roam our streets freely or not. But make no mistake... Justice will prevail." With that, the mayor's address ends, and it's replaced with a journalist reminding people of the helpful numbers and all the hospitals they can get access to in town.

This is... chilling.

This is another crisis, and there is no escaping this.

You need Bruce.

****

"Miss? Miss?"

By some fucking miracle, you did fall sleep and that hand over your shoulder wakes you up. More importantly, it startles you awake, and you have a full-body shiver as you move your eyelids. The lights are bright, your mouth is completely dry, and judging by the clock on the wall... It's going to be 9 am in exactly 10 minutes.

Oh, there, you got your wish.

The night did end.

Your gaze falls on the doctor next, he's still wearing scrubs you wear for an operation, you know this much, minus the mask and the gloves.

"Sorry, I did not mean to scare you," he says in a tired voice, but you nod negatively. Out of the two of you, he's probably more tired than you are. He's probably completely exhausted; he just had someone's life in his hands, and what did you do? You fucking fell asleep.

"It's fine... any news?"

"Yes, the operation went smoothly, and we were able to stop the bleeding. Mister Wayne is being placed in a room right now. I'm assuming you want to see him?"

"Yes."

You've never answered so fast in your life. You spring to your feet, probably too quickly. Yes, there are stars in front of your eyes, clouding your vision, as well as your unruly curly hair, you push it to one side of your face. You use all of your strength to follow the doctor. He leads you up, you realize, there's another elevator, and you know, for sure, you've never seen this wing of the hospital. You're even more convinced than before as the door slides open, once again, it's too pristine and too clean for a hospital.

"This way," the doctor leads you away, and after a brief pause where he talks to a nurse, you finally have a door number. 713. You follow him to the room, and you freeze in place once you can finally see Bruce.

...

This is not what you were expecting, yes, it is foolish to expect him to be smiling that one smile of his, the one that makes him look a bit dangerous, it's more of a smirk than anything else, and it's usually a private expression he has for himself, when his blue eyes are not focused on you.

It's even stupider to expect him to look as peaceful and as calm as he does when he is asleep, when the night has properly settled in, so much so that morning is about to arrive, so much so that Bruce looks pass out, exhausted, but happy, his face buried in your neck because that's his favorite spot to be in. 

To your eyes? Bruce looks worse than the man you found at the bank. No mask, no armor, no nothing, just him, pale and frail, in a hospital gown and on that bed. His right leg is in a cast and it's raised in a sling; he won't be able to move it for a while, you figure. There's a tube going to his left hand, liquid going through, clear and slowly moving, and finally that face... his eyes are closed and he's bruised all over, his eyes are slightly swollen, and yeah, he looks like he took two heavy and painful punches straight to his face. 

"... and he'll need some physical therapy regardless, but as I mentioned earlier with this type of surgery, he will need to see a neurologist regularly. We'll have to keep him for a few days once he wakes up and..." The doctor's voice is distant as he reads from the chart.

"But he will wake up, right?" Once again, you interrupt the doctor, without a single hesitation or even guilt, you need to know. This isn't just anybody in that hospital bed. As you ask, you finally step into the room, and that's when you take in all the machines beeping and moving about, monitoring Bruce's health.

"Yes, everything indicates that he will, despite it being a routine procedure for us, it is a heavy surgery for the body. We can't rush this, so he'll have to wake up on his own..."

"I see."

"There is no reason not to be optimistic, as I say, from a surgical point of view, it was a success, but it could take days for Mr. Wayne to wake up, weeks even."

Weeks even.

You nod, the doctor is trying to manage your expectations and to ultimately do his job. You fully understand and you resist the urge to inform him that no, you're not fucking optimistic. At all. You've seen life, you've had life beating deep into your skin, into your bones even, you've even had life growing in your guts and you screamed as you fucking pushed life outside of you, bringing you onto the verge of death. So, you know, you don't need to be told that it's cold, that it's fucking cruel, that it's downright brutal at times, you know.

"I see," you repeat, and finally, you pull up the chair next to Bruce's bed. "Thank you for... everything." You mumble, and again, the doctor gives you that professional, chill, and impeccable smile.

"I'll leave you to it." 

When it's just you in the room, you fall into the chair without any finesse, your two hands finding one of Bruce's much larger and rougher ones. He's cold to the touch, which is a major difference. You remember warm embraces, you remember those very hands trying to carve imprints into your skin... It's not the case anymore, and as you look at his unmoving and marked face, you can't help yourself. The night is done and gone, the results are in: no one fucking won, no one at all, and now, there are tears silently rolling down your cheeks. Those are warm and hard to ignore, even more so when you have a full body sob the next second. 

"Hey Bruce?"

You have so much to tell him.

He promised, he can't leave you like this, he has to fucking wake up, he has to wake up and make whoever did this to him pay. He has to, Bruce, Vengeance, whoever comes back to you, whoever, whatever, you'll take him, you'll accept him, kiss him, and make a life with him. 

Whoever and whatever comes back.

"I love you."

It's barely louder than a whisper, it's half muffled by your tears and the bip bip of his heart rate monitor.

But fuck... It's the truth.

[lemotmo]

I didn't even realize some of this.

Q. You liked Sick Day though, you said so yourself. So I'm a little confused to see you criticize it because that doesn't fit with liking an episode. I kind of feel like you're not going to be okay with certain people getting the spotlight over others and so you should just say that. Buck gets plenty of focus. He's not being ignored.

A. I did like the episode. I have been open about that. But I have also been open about the cartoonish level villain being a bit OTT for me and the glaring absence of Eddie. You can critique something you like. Finding fault doesn't erase enjoyment. I get why they did both things. It's not a 'who done it' storyline. They didn't want to waste time having people try to figure out who the villain is so they made it so obvious it was a little cartoonish in execution. I have also said that I think we were supposed to notice Eddie's absence, I believe that was the point. That doesn't erase the fact that he should have been there.

I haven't really framed any of these replies around Buck but since you brought him up, I will explain. Buck hasn't had a storyline since the lightning strike in the back half of season 6. He has had no real storyline focus since then. He has been on and has been involved in other storylines but he hasn't had a storyline of focus since the lightning strike. His bi awakening doesn't count because that was told in one half of one episode. That's not a storyline. Then they stuck him in a relationship with an actor Oliver clearly doesn't get along with, an issue that seems to be a cast wide thing at this point with that particular actor. So they kept Buck in the relationship in name only and showed very little context of said relationship because the point of that particular relationship had nothing to do with that actual relationship. The point of that relationship was to kick off the Buddie storyline which Tim, inexplicably, decided to tell alongside this god awful Vertigo storyline for Eddie. A storyline that has now been dragged out a full year and a half. That's a problem for both Buck and Eddie as characters. The Eddie storyline has been going on for almost 18 months at this point and we still have no clear resolution. Because it was a poorly constructed storyline from the very beginning. It was a bad original story idea that has been dragged on to the point of nauseating for all involved. And I give Tim credit for trying to fix it but taking 18 months to fix it is inexcusable, especially since it's still requiring Eddie to be separate from the rest of the main cast.

In those 18 months how much screen time has been devoted to multiple Bobby storylines? He resigned from the 118. Took a consultation role on HotShots, a storyline Tim dragged out over 5 freaking episodes btw, got involved with the cartel and lost his home. Came face to face with his estranged mother. Went on a cruise that sank, and helped his wife land a plane. That's 6 different storylines told while Eddie is still going through the Vertigo bullshit. Seven now if you count what's coming as a result of Sick Day and Lab Rats. How about Athena? She had the same cruise ship mishap. The same cartel burned my house down storyline. Revisited her past with an inmate transfer that led to her being in the plane Bobby had to help her land. She had the crazy rookie racist cop partner storyline. The shipping cart vigilante, only one episode but it was more than half the freaking episode. The 911 serial killer Maddie kidnapping storyline. That's six separate storylines for Athena, again all while Eddie's one plot is still unresolved. It's lazy. I understand that the Eddie/Christopher storyline could not and should not have been resolved over the course of one episode but there's been plenty of storytime to devote to it; Tim just used way too much of that time on the same two characters, or on nonsensical Brad bullshit, and that's a legitimate problem at this point.

Dragging the storyline out for so long has made Buck stagnant as well. I understand why they're telling the Buddie storyline the way they are. The problem is we get an episode or two of momentum and then we completely lose that momentum to spend time on episodes like this biohazard stuff, which is in no way more important than your character driven episodes. Yes episodes like this have value and merit, but they should be timed appropriately within the season. This event was not. And we also now have proof that the audience didn't like Eddie not being involved. So it wasn't a decision that was beneficial to the show over all. Pointing that out is not an unfair criticism. It's an ensemble show. Spending a year and half on multiple storylines for two main characters at the cost of real and necessary movement in one single storyline for 3 other main characters (Eddie, Buck and Christopher) is flat out bad storytelling.

Thank you Nonny! 😁

I never quite looked at it from this point of view, but Ali has a point here.

Maybe it's time for Bobby and Athena to spend some time decorating their new house, so the focus can go to Eddie, Buck, Madney + baby and Henren for a change.

Just a thought. 🤷‍♀️

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[somnolent-scout]

To clear up a few things mentioned in this awareness post, I wanted to go into slightly more detail about it here:

The day we posted the original call-out post, multiple of us received an ask from a recently created user with a jumbled up username basically telling us that he was on a call with Cheavy and that he had run into traffic. We were extremely concerned by this message and one of us began talking to this guy. We discovered that apparently his name was Dylan and he was just a very close friend of Cheavy who was very worried for his well-being. It seemed weird, but we took it seriously. Eventually, I called the non-emergency number for a wellness check for Cheavy. They sent a team out there and then the rest of those events were played out pretty publicly on his blog.

But then we started receiving aggressive messages from this Dylan guy. At first, it was criticisms of how we acted and what we said about Cheavy. Then it was actual insults, then it was threats of blackmail. This is when I, admittedly not very appropriately, posted the "getting blackmailed xoxo" post to Tumblr containing two screenshots of the first few messages from Dylan. There was.. so.. SO much more after that. All of that is available to view in this Google photos album.

I continued to screenshot what I was being sent and once I realized something was seriously off about this guy, I stopped responding. I did not respond, regardless of whatever threats he threw at me. He seemed to be upset by this.

But then the big bombshell arrived from a mutual: Cheavy was pretending to Dylan to get our attention. We have irrefutable evidence of this claim as well, coming in the form of a screenshot from that user where Cheavy showed he was logged into this Dylan account.

Dylan was just Cheavy in a different hat.

Watching him edit a post about Dylan on his main tf2heritageposts blog three different times, only adding the "edit:" section on the third time, as he continued to unblock and reblock me while sending me various demands through the Dylan account.. it was almost hysterical. I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or laugh or scream. It was just.. insane. The definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Just wow..

Another thing I would like to clear up is that we unfortunately faced an extreme amount of backlash for our detrimental error on censoring the names of those not involved with the making of the post. This was mostly my fault, and I cannot apologize enough for the harm it caused. I understand that the Internet, especially Tumblr, is full of rotten vile people who will do anything to attack someone over miniscule shit. I apologize to those were affected by this, and I sincerely hope that our revised version will be better.

No one should have to face shit like that online. I should know, as I've been there and done that a dozen times.

Also, an additional thing that happened the night of the post, around 10:30pm I received a voicemail from Cheavy's phone number. I have had his contact and phone number BLOCKED for months. But somehow he was able to leave a very weird voicemail.

This was sent to my phone between the first few messages from Dylan and the posts about going to the hospital on tf2heritageposts.

[Transcript: Visual Voicemail format, censored name labeled as "Cheavy", plays a brief moment of silence before the words "Hi Sol!" are said in a sing-song tone. Sent on December 8th, at 10:40pm.]

Anyways, these are just some additional things I wanted to add but didn't want to clog up the awareness post with it.

[mavrintarou]

[Daddies in December] Hatake Kakashi

Happy New Year! I hope you had a fantastic holiday. I know it's technically January now but I have a few drafts still and I think I can FINALLY get them out. This is long, I just couldn't stop.

Warning: Angst, reconnection, and smut

.

“I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, thank you for taking my class. If you’re in my next class, see you next year.” Kakashi ended his last class for the semester, dismissing his students.

One by one, each of them thanked and complimented him on his class, giving him great feedback.

At last, the door to his class closed and he took a deep breath.

Reaching for his phone in his pocket, he has a few unread messages but none from Y/n.

Ever since she dropped the bomb on him about her pregnancy exactly a week ago, neither has spoken to the other.

Kakashi didn’t exactly take the news well, blurting something he shouldn’t have said and every time he thought about it, he wanted to beat himself up.

“It’s not mine.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. It couldn’t be Kakashi. One, he always wore a condom. Two, he was nearly forty-three and his doctor told him he had low sperm count!

He was not blind to the pain written on her face.

Their last encounter did not end very well.

He used this week as an excuse to get through the semester for his students; now, he must face the consequences.

Day and night, 24/7, Y/n was all he could think about.

He’ll admit that he let his anger get the best of him. He let his past trauma control and dictate his actions towards Y/n, who didn’t deserve any of it.

Kakashi could come up with a million excuses and reasons how it cannot be his child, for one, after his injury during a mission, he was told having any children was no longer an option.

But he couldn’t excuse the fact that she was a virgin when he bedded her and Y/n wasn’t one to have multiple men even if they were officially in a relationship. Their fling was exclusive for the most part. Even if Kakashi had used condoms every time they had sex and had been told he couldn’t have children… there was always a possibility…

He groaned, suddenly remembering a time when they had both just come. Still in a daze of euphoria, he slipped off the filled condom. Only with Y/n, does he ever ejaculate so much. His cock was still erect, oozing with leftover cum.

Kakashi’s eyes glaze over her wet pussy that coated with her wetness.

He had only had raw sex once in his entire life when he was still young and that was the first and the last time he had done so…

But he was so tempted just to be swallowed by Y/n’s hot and tight pussy.

“Just once,” he murmured before slipping his cock, raw, inside of her. Y/n gasped at the same time he groaned, feeling the same bliss of skin on skin. “Just want to be cock-warmed by your pussy…”

Even if he had just allowed her pussy to wrap around his raw cock for a few minutes, that could have resulted in this unplanned pregnancy.

Y/n had no reason to lie to him, she wasn’t one to manipulate and trap him with a child.

He’d known her since she was twelve, he was best friends with her brother who was in the same military unit as him. Who died saving him.  

.

Y/n knew she should have just left the fallen pen on the ground but her determined self wanted to be independent and pick it up.

Now, she was stuck in a crouching position, able to stand back up after successfully grabbing the pen.

Being almost eight months pregnant with twins, with only a solid four weeks left, she was large. Very large.

She gripped the edge of the table, taking deep breaths to build up the strength to stand without peeing in her underwear.

She needed help.

Her assistant Viv was out running a delivery and wouldn’t return for another ten minutes at the earliest. 

“Are you okay?”

Y/n’s head snapped up, eyes meeting the father of her unborn babies. When had he entered her shop? How did she miss the bell ringing at the door? She blinked before looking away embarrassed.

“Why are you down there?” He looked over, frowning.

Taking a deep breath and setting her pride aside, “Kakashi,” she called his name sharply.

“Yes?”

She looked up at him sternly, “I need your help.”

His eyes widen in a flash of panic. “What’s wrong?”

Placing both her hands on the table, she reached out to him, “I can’t get back up, help me.”

Quickly walking around the table, he looked at her, seeing she was crouching down, “are you hurt?”

Y/n shook her head, “no, I just – I just can’t get back up, my belly is too big. Just support me and help me stand.”

Going behind her, Kakashi took her outreached hand and wrapped the other gently below her bulging belly, “slowly…” he cooed lifting her until she could straighten up. As soon as she was back on her feet again she tugged her hand away, walking away from him.

She cleared her throat, wiping her hand on her overalls. “Thank you. What are you doing here?”

Kakashi’s eyes fell on her belly, the last time he saw her was two months ago. “I…” he inhales, “I want to talk.” He noticed her body switching to defense mode, and he took a careful step towards her. “Just talk, that’s all.”

“I’m not sure there is anything to discuss, nothing needs further clarification.” Her tone struggled to stay in control. “You made it clear where you stand.”

Kakashi expected her hostile attitude and gave her a small smile, “you don’t owe me any of your time but I ask kindly, please, can we talk about the baby?”

“No.”

He exhaled softly, she was going to make this difficult for him. “Okay,” he continued to smile at her, “I’ll come back tomorrow and try again.”

She glared at him, and he knew it was meant to make him fear her, but he found her adorable. “My answer will still be no.”

“Then I’ll come back the next day.”

.

The next day, Kakashi returned, with a basket of fruits. The fruits Y/n likes.

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

.

Every day Kakashi returned with a gift and would leave with a sigh and his usual phrase as soon as Y/n turned him down, “okay, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

He stopped at the door and turned around, “please at least tell me what you would like for me to bring tomorrow. I’m running out of ideas.”

Before Y/n could tell him anything, Viv answered on her behalf, “Takoyaki please!”

Y/n turned her head, giving her a silent serious look.

“Takoyaki tomorrow then,” he waved before leaving.

“Seriously?” Viv groaned, “the man is doing all that to just talk to you. Can you imagine what he would do when you give in?”

Instead of answering her, Y/n turned her heels and headed to the cooler. Viv followed behind her, carrying the bag of chips and snacks. “I have seriously gained weight from all the gifts he has brought in.”

“Then stop eating it,” Y/n answered rather sharply.

“Well, you won’t eat it, so someone has to?”

Y/n ignored her, grabbing a few bundles of bouquets before heading back to the front of the shop.

“How do you guys know each other?”

Sighing, Y/n answered, “I’ve known him since I was twelve, my brother met him in school and since then he’s been pretty much part of the family.” She grabbed a white rose, one of her favorites. “They both enlisted into the military together and were deployed together.” Her breath hitched, “but Kakashi was the only one who returned home alive.”

Viv leaned over to hug her. She knew about her brother’s death and how it had affected her.

Y/n has barely spoken about Kakashi but it did not take much for Viv to put two and two together to confirm, she asked, “he’s the father of your babies?”

It was a long pause before Y/n answered quietly, “yes.”

“It seems like to me, he wants to be part of your life?”

For a second, Y/n zoned out. “He didn’t want us at first.”

“Key word, at first.” Viv clarified, leaning onto the table. “Not trying to create excuses for him but just stating that people can change overnight. He didn’t want you guys at first but what if he wants you guys now?” She stares silently at Y/n before walking away, “people can change and it could start with their actions.”

.

When Kakashi arrives the next day with two orders of Takoyakis, he glances around the shop looking for Y/n.

Viv greets him and answers his silent question, “she’s resting in the office, she kind of had a rough morning.”

“Ah,” Kakashi nodded, passing the bag of Takoyakis to her. “Maybe this might lighten her mood?”

Viv motioned for him to go on ahead to the back room, “it’s the first door to the left.”

Kakashi gently knocked on the door slightly closed door before slowly opening it. He catches sight of Y/n, her back facing towards him. “Hey…” He froze, hearing a sharp gasp.

Y/n moans, a hand clutching her belly.

A loud pop echoes the room followed by the sound of gushing fluid.

“Ah!”

Kakashi reaches Y/n before she can stumble forward. His eyes widen when he sees the floor wet. “Is that…”

“My water… my water just broke…” She gasps, her hand grips tightly around Kakashi’s arms as her contractions begin.

“What’s going on!” Viv burst through the door and gulped, “are the twins coming?”

“Twins?” Kakashi shouted, he looked at Y/n with wide eyes, “you’re expecting twins?”

.

Kakashi has been watching the chests of the two tiny humans rise and fall in one incubator. He had only discovered a few hours ago that all this time, Y/n was carrying twins.

He is now the father of not one, but two babies. A boy and a girl.

They were early by three weeks, his son is slightly smaller than his sister and has been crying from the separation of his sister after the cesarian surgery that the nurse has kept them together.

Y/n was recovering, and sleeping with the help of some medications and he left her alone to go visit the nursery.

The door to the nursery opened and the nurse peeked her head out, “would you like to come hold them?”

Dressed in a gown, Kakashi’s hands trembled as he neared his babies. They were so small.

“Would you like to hold one at a time or both of them?”

“Both,” Kakashi answered in a heartbeat.

He took a seat in the glider and the nurse carefully handled one baby at a time, setting one in each arm. He can feel his throat tightening at the immense emotions swelling within him.

Their hats were removed and after a wash and dry, Kakashi could see their physical traits.

Though it was faint, their hair was visibly silver just like their father's with Y/n’s eye color.

During the surgery, Kakashi kept his gaze and attention on Y/n, he had never felt so useless, unable to take away any of the pain she was feeling.

As soon as the surgery room echoed with the first cry, a tear slid from the corner of Y/n’s eyes. Kakashi reached to wipe it away, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

A second cry echoes the room along with the first baby and together, Kakashi and Y/n sighed in relief.

“Here are your babies!” the nurse carried them over, bringing them close.

Kakashi has never been a sentimental one but before he knew it, his cheeks were wet. Amidst the bustling room, his focus narrowed to the sight of the two infants’ cheeks nestled against the individual who had been nurturing them for the past few months.

He recalled reaching for his phone and capturing an image to cherish the moment.

Once they settled into a private room, the babies were brought back where Y/n got to hold the both of them for the first time. The nurse spent the next hour informing Y/n and Kakashi on how to care for the babies.

“Do you want to try and nurse them?” the nurse asked.

Y/n nodded, her gaze fixed on the two babies in her arms with affectionate eyes.

Kakashi was on the verge of exiting the room to give them some privacy when Y/n remarked, “it’s all right; you can stay.”

He stayed seated at the end of the bed, watching as the nurse helped Y/n untie her gown. He felt his cheeks flush when her breasts were exposed. Kakashi couldn’t help but notice how full and engorged they looked.

“Hey daddy, why don’t you come closer, you could learn a thing or two.” The nurse urges, waving him over.

Kakashi walked around the bed and sat beside Y/n. He tried to keep his heart rate down as he watched his son immediately suckle cutely the moment he tasted the liquid gold. He chuckles, his finger rubbing his chubby cheek.

His daughter remained snoozing. Kakashi reached to nudge her cheek gently, “hey you.” The tiny baby stirred and yawned adorably before whimpering.

Y/n giggled and brought her over to her other breast, urging and cooing the baby to suckle.

As soon as their feeding was over, Y/n was ordered to rest and the babies were brought back to the nursery. Not wanting to disturb Y/n, Kakashi made his way down to the nursery.

Cradling both infants in his arms felt surreal; he had only recently come to terms with the idea of expecting one baby, and now there were two. During the months when he and Y/n were apart, he discreetly acquired various items. However, he hadn’t presented them to Y/n, uncertain of her willingness to accept them.

An unsettling sense persisted with him, urging him to engage in a conversation with Y/n.

Kakashi truly wants to make it work between him and Y/n, not just for the sake of his babies now but because he really cares for her.

.

Y/n hadn’t voiced it yet, but she was thankful for Kakashi’s presence. Even if they are only working together for the sake of their babies.

She thought she would have to go through this all alone, and though she spent most of her pregnancy alone, she didn’t know what happened for Kakashi to change his mind at the last minute.

Whatever the reason was, she wasn’t going to question it because as much as she did not want to admit it, she needed Kakashi.

When she discovered she was expecting twins, she panicked. She had seen a single mother raise one kid and it already made her nervous but just her luck, she was going to be a single mother and raising two.

Y/n didn’t take the initiative to inform Kakashi about expecting twins, especially considering his initial reluctance towards taking responsibility. When the twins were finally born, she anticipated him making a hasty exit.

Upon waking from each hospital nap, her first thought was a concern about being alone in the room, wondering if he had discreetly left with no intention of returning.

It was as though he could sense it; Kakashi would enter her room and greet her with a smile as she awoke. Every time, he would inquire, “do you want to see the babies?”

He stayed with her for the four days of recovery and insisted on taking them home when they were finally released from the hospital.

Y/n was in no position to decline his offer, accepting it with a soft, “yes, please.” The car ride of them four was quiet. The babies slept through, tucked cozily in their car seats.

She didn’t want to assume or expect, she would take whatever Kakashi had to offer.

“Thank you for the ride,” she said quietly as soon as he parked in front of her apartment. She unbuckled her seat belt and froze when he turned off the engine to his car, unbuckling his seat belt as well. “you’re coming… inside?”

“Of course,” he said with a matter-of-fact tone, “you’re not supposed to be carrying anything more than a few pounds, remember?”

Kakashi carried both babies into the apartment, setting them down on the couch before returning to his car to gather the rest of the other items.

While it was just the three of them, Y/n cooed at her two sleeping babies. “Welcome home.”

.

“Kakashi,” Y/n called his name quietly, he turned his head, looking away from his daughter that’s nestled in the crook of his arm. “I appreciate you being here with us.” She inhaled softly, “but you are not obligated in any way to be here.”

It has been three days, three days of Kakashi giving them his undivided attention. He had told her that he would stay a few nights, only leaving home to shower and grab some items before returning.

Due to her cesarean surgery, she had restricted movements, with swift sitting and standing being prohibited. All remaining activities were geared towards minimizing the risk of reopening her wound.

She wouldn’t have been able to relax and stay off her feet if it wasn’t for the help of Kakashi. He had made their meals, handled the babies, and assisted Y/n with tending to her after-birth wound.

“I don’t want…” her voice croaked, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here, because you and I both know – “

“I want to be here. I want to be here because I am choosing to be here, not because I’m obligated,” Kakashi clarified softly. He adjusts his daughter in his arms, “I know there is nothing I can do to take back how I had initially reacted to the pregnancy. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. The only thing I can offer you now are my actions, maybe my words.” He scoots closer until he is sitting beside Y/n who is nursing their son. “I want to be with you and the babies. Through it all. I’m not going anywhere and if I am, it is wherever you three are.”

Y/n stares into Kakashi’s eyes, searching, searching for something she knew was not there. “So,” she whispers, “you want to be with us as their father?”

“Yes.” He answered without a second thought. “I want to do the honorable thing and marry you if you allow.”

“For the sake of the babies?”

Kakashi stammered for a second, “well, that too but I want to be a husband to you.”

“Do you… can you love me?”

Silence sat heavy between them before he answered, “I can learn to love you.” He wasn’t sure if the tears that filled her eyes were tears of joy or pain. They pooled at her lower eyelid, refusing to fall down her cheeks. “I – I don’t know how to love, but I can learn. If you can give me a leeway, I’ll learn to love you.”

Y/n turned away so he wouldn’t see her tears fall as she quickly wiped them with her sleeve. “Okay. I’m okay with that.”

.

Nine months have passed and within that time frame, Kakashi proposed in the presence of their two-month-old babies and moved into their place, taking over the spare room beside Y/n.

They formalized their marriage in the presence of an intimate gathering. Despite being married, they maintained separate sleeping quarters. Their connection remains amicable, marked by occasional displays of affection centered around the babies. Their lives persist with the primary emphasis and priority placed on their little ones.

Y/n continued her life running her flower shop and Kakashi resumed teaching at the university.

With two babies, time went by quicker than they anticipated and before they knew it, winter had arrived and Y/n’s business slowed while Kakashi was on winter break.

It was the night of New Year's Eve, the babies had gone to bed at their usual time leaving Kakashi and Y/n alone. Though they spent many nights alone together, it was exceptionally different, considering that their first night together had happened the same day two years ago.

“Did… you want to watch the ball drop with me?” Kakashi asked when Y/n had finished preparing her nightly tea.

Caught off guard Y/n froze for a split second before answering, “sure, if you don’t mind.”

“Never, never with you.”

Her heart fluttered and she turned away to hide her red cheeks. “Wou – would you like a cup of tea too?”

“Please,” he said softly.

When Y/n returned Kakashi had lit a few candles and had two throw blankets out but he was nowhere in the room. At that moment, he exits the baby's room, returning.

“Emi began fussing but she went right back to sleep with the pacifier.” He reached for the cup of tea.

Y/n stepped forward to hand him the cup when she stumbled, the hot tea spilled onto his hand.

“Oh my God!” she shouted, setting the cup on the coffee table before checking his hand. She immediately tugged her shirt, gently drying his hand to inspect the burn. It was red. “Let me go get some toothpaste!”

She returned with some gauze and the tube of toothpaste and quickly applied it all over his hand before bandaging it up. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

Y/n looked up at him with worried eyes, not noticing that he had been quiet and allowing her to tend to his wound. He was happy to have this interaction with her.

Kakashi reached up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Y/n.”

Y/n could melt that instant hearing him call her name, she always loved how he said her name. “Yes?”

“I’m tired of living this way,” his eyes flashed at his choice of words and he quickly corrected himself, “I mean in a way of I am tired of living like we’re strangers but parents to our children.” His eyes search hers, to make sure she didn’t misunderstand his initial words. “I want to be more than a husband to you, I want to be your rock, the person you can rely on.” Kakashi inhales sharply before speaking the next few words. “I want to be someone you love.”

“I do love you, Kakashi,” Y/n replied, “I have loved you for many years since I was probably a teenager.” She rubbed her thumb over his bandaged hand. “You were my first crush and first love. I still love you.” She looked down at his hand, “but you always just saw me as Brian’s little sister.”

With his other hand, Kakashi cupped her face, guiding her to look at him. “It is true, I did see you as Brian’s little cute sister who was so shy when I was around, but when I returned from my first deployment and you were nineteen… a grown woman… believe me when I tell you that you were the most beautiful woman in my life since that day.” He closed his eyes and released a deep breath, “then Brian and I were deployed again and that day – “ he choked on his words. “Days before that day, he had said to me – as if he knew his days were counting down, he said to me ‘I know you have something going for Y/n, I see the way you stare at her. I’ve noticed it. If anything ever happens to me, take care of my sister for me, will ‘ya? You’re the only man I trust with her.’” His thumb reached up to swipe the tear that slipped from her eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t exactly grow up with love or how to love? I learned how to love and be loved the hard way or no way at all. Please – give me grace… teach me how to love, teach me how to be loved, and teach me how to be in love with you because I don’t want it with anyone else.” He pressed his lips against hers. “I just want you love and I want to love you. Teach me how to love you so that you’ll love me back.”

Y/n threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “I love you, Kakashi. I love you and I am in love with you.” She lifts herself to look down at him with a bright smile. “I know you already love me, you show it to me in different ways but I know you love me and our babies.”

“Y/n,” he calls her name huskily.

“Hmm?”

“Please, kiss me…”

Y/n giggles and fulfills his request. Immediately everything around them began to escalate. Kakashi’s hands slipped beneath her shirt, rubbing her back. His fingers fumble with the back of her bra strap. “Kakashi…”

“Sorry, I just… I just miss touching you…”

“No – no please… please touch me. I need you.”

Kakashi groaned, “I need you badly too…”

“But before we have sex – can we share rooms? I… will it be too soon to move into one?” Y/n asked with a tint of pink on her cheeks.

Kakashi smiled, “you have no idea how long I have been dying to share a room with you. I missed you so much.”

“I just thought you didn’t want to sleep with me.”

He shook his head, ��no – I wanted to after we got married but I didn’t exactly know how to approach you with that question. I didn’t know if… you wanted your own space still.”

Y/n pecked his lips, “move in, I want you to make love to me every night.”

“You might regret that…”

.

The bed softly creaked against the floor, thrashing against the wall with each slow thrust of Kakashi.

He rolled his hips, grunting each time his cock stroked entirely into her sweet pussy.

“I love you… I have loved you for so long…” His fingers tightened around hers as he pinned them above her head. “I don’t want to waste a second without you anymore…”

“Me too – me too Ka – ashi…” Y/n moaned and gasped, “I’m so close, please –“

Kakashi cut her words with a kiss, his tongue thrusting past her lips to dance with hers. He was close too, it had been too long and he wasn’t going to last much longer.

With deeper rolls of his hips, Kakshi groaned against her mouth as he cums into the condom. He continued to slowly thrust, feeling Y/n’s walls clench and tightly tremble around his cock.

As they came down from their high, Kakashi gazed lovingly down at her. “I might be late but… Happy New Year, I cannot wait to start this year with you and our babies.” Tenderly, he takes her hand, adorned with the wedding ring, and gently kisses it. “I love you, wifey.”

. . .

E/n: Kakashi is so #hearteyes

>>>@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[lionwitch]

Tim Drake Edits Reality

Hear me out. Tim Drake has always loved photography, that's wildly accepted and known. But what if he has powers too?

What if whatever Tim edits into his pictures becomes the truth?

The first time it happened, Tim was just starting his photography hobby. His parents bought him a camera and he was so exited! He took a picture of his mom's Rosebush, a single rose in the entire bush, half Withered.

Tim found the picture beautiful, and he started messing with photoshop, editing the withered flower back to the bright red it used to be. He decided it looked lonely and sad, the bush dry and the rose edited to be lively but alone in the middle. So he edited the dry areas of the bush back to the lively green and more roses in it. The picture looked very different from the original, but it was beautiful. Satisfied, he saved the end result.

That afternoon, when he walked through the garden, the very same dry rosebush he photographed looked just like his edited picture: lively, with rich colors and plenty of roses.

It made no sense, but he ignored it.

He kept taking pictures and editing them, though the changes were small, like the lighting and all that. Sometimes he made small changes, and he definitely noticed them and thought it was weird, but didn't quite connect the dots. He was kind of in denial. He couldn't be a meta or anything! Right?

And then his parents left for a few months and he was lonely, but he didn't want to admit it. And at school everyone was talking about their pets, and he messed up and lied. "I just adopted a Border Collie puppy!" he lied, thinking that would be it, people would forget, he would get out of the awkward situation (why did everyone have pets?) and nothing would happen. Well turns out, everyone wanted to see his puppy.

So Tim came home and prepared his camera, in his trusted tripod to look like it had been taken by someone else, and took pictures of himself, a whole photoshoot, with his arms stretched like carrying a dog, and then sitting like he was playing with it.

He searched for a perfect Border Collie puppy, one who had a whole photoshoot just for that one, so he could be sure the pictures were coherent and no one would question them. He carefully edited them and memorized every feature of his supposed dog in case anyone asked, to keep his story straight. Once satisfied, he sent them to those who asked for pictures, and received plenty of "cute dog!" compliments. It had taken him all day, so he went to bed almost immediately after, already past midnight.

He woke up to the very same blue eyed fluffy Border Collier puppy he edited into his pictures, licking his face, the same blue harness and leash hung on his door, and even the bed and bowls he put in the background were on the corner of his room now.

He freaked out, of course, but the small pup didn't seem all that worried. And apparently he now had a puppy? Well, he's always wanted one. He named her Frankie, because her multiple colors and patterns clashed like Frankenstein's monster, like she had been made for from mismatched parts.

He loved Frankie. She was so smart! And Frankie was quite loyal and enamored by him, too. He was her whole world, and she was his heart, his companion and confidant, his best friend and ally in his too-big house.

He did decide to experiment though. He needed more research.

When a boy at school picked on him, he edited his picture bald, and that same day his father shaved his hair. He tried again with another boy who picked on Jason (Jason doesn't know Tim exists yet, but Tim keeps an eye out for him), editing his hair bright barbie pink, and this time he added a date to the corner, writing the date of a week ago, two days before the pictures for his football team were taken.

When Tim saw the football team's pictures displayed at school, the boy had pink hair in them, that he didn't yesterday. He asked around, if the pictures looked different to anyone else.

"yeah, I don't know what persuaded him to dye his hair pink before picture day and the tournament."

"I asked him two days ago, he said he lost a bet."

Two days ago. Tim's mind was reeling. He asked the boy himself when he dyed his hair, and he replied with the date Tim edited on the corner of the picture.

Did Tim just... Edit reality?

He later uses this power to his advantage on patrol, and before that while watching the Bats.

Jason is surrounded? He takes a picture and edits a few goons out of it quickly. They aren't there when he looks up.

Shit Joker escaped? He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now. He edits tonight's date on a picture of Joker sitting peacefully in his cell and a few more guards for good measure.

His family doesn't understand why he takes a small discreet camera on patrol in his utility belt

[roseykat]

https://www.tumblr.com/roseykat/737270057334341632/can-you-make-a-reaction-where-the-reader-is-needy

You know what would be funny about this? That after they're done with the business and come back to her, all horny and ready for action, now she's the one that's busy or not in the mood anymore. Maybe she took care of herself already.

I'd like to see how they react when the positions are reversed and they're forced to wait instead (or deal with it themselves instead)

Ohohoooo Lyra thank you for this opportunity. I had to go all out.

Here is the context to these reactions prior to this post if anyone is wondering lol

TAGS: smut as per, female masturbation, swearing, begging, teasing, mentions of sex toys and restraints, orgasms, nudes/explicit videos.

A/N: I just realised Hyunjin's one is a bit more softer lmao

BANG CHAN

With Chan, he said for you to give him twenty minutes to finish his work, and within that span of time, you’re no longer preoccupied with being so pent up and horny for him. Instead, you’ve grown tired given how late at night it is, resulting in you falling asleep on the couch.

Chan on the other hand managed to work his way through to the prospect that you’re both going to fuck, thinking about it in the back of his mind while he works that it turns him on. He’s never fucked you in his studio - yet. Thought about it however? Multiple times.

He’s always envisioned him fucking you over his desk, having you ride him on his chair, even the couch you lie on is where he'd fuck you too. The both of you would be able to make as much noise as possible with the room being soundproof. Therefore, Chan was hoping there would be a day for it to come only for him to turn around and see you dozing away peacefully.

“Baby,” Chan calls out to you softly, shaking your arm gently.

You open one eye to see that he’s finally finished but wondered briefly if it had actually been twenty minutes or two hours that went by, “done?”

“Yes, just like I promised,” he says.

“Okay,” you stretch and sit up. “Let’s go home.”

Chan stares at you blankly, “but I thought - didn’t you say-“

“I did, twenty minutes ago,” you cut him off. “But, now I’m tired.”

He doesn’t understand, “you don’t want to do it here?”

“Not at the moment, no,” you say to him. “Don’t wanna get caught either.”

You pick up your bag from the side of the couch leaving Chan still remaining in his seat. He looked devastated and surprised at the same time at your response but was nonetheless respectful of your decision. His dream of fucking you in his studio, for the time being was now put on hold.

MINHO

Minho comes back home, almost with a skip in his step knowing that he’s about to get laid. It’s been a while since he fucked you last. But that’s his fault for neglecting that aspect - neglecting you more importantly, above anything else.

As he arrives home, he sets his keys on the hook by the door and takes his shoes off before searching for you throughout the apartment. Minho spots you in the bathroom, bathrobe on, hair bundled up on top of your head with a towel, and a face mask on.

He knows that once you’ve done your skincare, there’s no chance of him fucking you tonight. It means that you’re only prepped and all ready to go to bed, not ready for anything physical.

“I thought you were horny?” Minho asks, visibly confused.

“I was…but now I’m not, and I want to go to bed.”

“W-What about me?” He almost panics.

You chortle, making your way out of the bathroom, past him, and onto the edge of the bed, “what about you?”

“Well I need you too you know.”

“Maybe wait until tomorrow. Plus, I’m spent,” you respond. “All those toys you bought me really did do the trick. I came so many times without you.”

Minho pretends not to be pissed, but he most certainly is, “I’m glad to hear that they have some use then.”

“What do you mean ‘some’ use? I use them quite often thank you very much” you tell him in a rather indignant tone of voice.

“Why use them when you have me?” He retorts, taking offence to that information.

“Toys are more convenient,” you reply just to rub salt into his wound. “I can use them whenever and wherever. Can’t use you when you’re one - never here, and two - don’t make me cum as hard.”

Minho knows you didn’t mean that. You had to be fucking with him. Either way, just hearing you say that makes his blood start to boil.

“I’ll fuck that attitude right out you,” he glares down his nose at you.

You test him even further, “if that’s what you wanna do then you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow, just like I said.”

CHANGBIN

It hadn't been long since Changbin left for the gym. As much as you wanted him to stay behind and spend some time in the bedroom, you knew you should let him do what he wants. But since that hour and a half that flew by with his personal trainer, you had found yourself busying all around the house.

You had some breakfast, cleaned up in the kitchen, lounge, bedroom, and even tackled the bathroom, all before Changbin came back home. You felt satisfied and accomplished that you were able to do so much in such a timeframe.

Changbin also felt accomplished, but for completely different reasons. He's always guaranteed to feel good after a hard gym session. So much that adrenaline pumps through his veins half an hour after, especially when he’s hitting his PB’s. He doesn’t know what to do with himself other than what he thinks he knows best…

“Whatcha making?” He asks once he's back home, leaning against the counter as he watches you chop up a whole bunch of fruit.

“A lot of fruit salad because I knew you'd be hungry after the gym,” you answer. “Plus I wanted some too.”

“Yum,” Changbin says, dawdling a few steps to stand right behind you. "But I'm not hungry for fruit."

His hands gently hold your hips, pressing you flush against his. He's not always bold like this when it comes to admitting that he's turned on. Changbin will state that he is sometimes, but doesn't always act on it. Usually it's you that needs him. Always jumping on him the minute you feel the slightest bit horny.

"I can make you something else if you want?" You suggest, deciding in the moment that you're going to make this hell for him.

“I want you,” he whispers against the back of your neck.

“Not sure if we have that in the fridge.”

Changbin chuckles, "funny. Whatever happened to you wanting me to stay longer this morning?"

"Not too sure what you're talking about," you say cluelessly.

"I'm one hundred percent sure you wanted me to dick you down before I left for the gym," Changbin guesses very rightly.

"Is that what you thought?”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

“That’s a shame,” you sigh with regret. “Maybe if you were here earlier, you might’ve gotten what you actually wanted. So for the meantime you’ll just have to settle for a bowl of fruit.”

You finish chopping up the fruit, then place all of the different pieces into a bowl and turn around on the spot to hand it to him. Grabbing your own bowl too, you head over to the table to sit down leaving Changbin in the kitchen, turned on and befuddled.

HYUNJIN

Fifteen minutes was all Hyunjin gave you after wanting some time to finish off his artwork before heading to the bedroom with you. He had spent practically all day fixated on his hobby while you were at work and came home visibly flustered - needing him so badly.

Unfortunately for you, fifteen minutes takes up too much of your night to wait. It was then that you decided to take matters into your own hands and get yourself off instead. All you needed was your vibrator and a homemade sex tape you and Hyunjin filmed on your phone from over a month ago for you to cum in minutes.

That’s all you needed just one orgasm to settle yourself down. To drain all the stress from your body. Although, it was a bit hard to stop after one when you had made it to three. After that, you were just about ready to head to bed.

At that point, Hyunjin finished off the area of the piece he was working on and departed with it for the time being. As he was cleaning up, the sound of running water from the bathroom catches his attention.

"Baby?" Hyunjin knocks on the door.

"Mm? You can come in, I'm just in the bath," you say to him.

He opens the door and walks in to see that you were fully relaxing in a nice hot bubble bath. There was a scented candle lit on the counter, creating a dim setting and a beautiful aroma that filled the room.

"I thought you were waiting for me on the bed," he says, pulling up one of the chair stools from the corner of the bathroom to the side of the tub.

"I was," you say to him. "But I got impatient so I dealt with it myself."

Hyunjin was annoyed to hear that. Not annoyed at you, but himself, "I'm sorry I made you wait. Over a stupid painting of all things-"

"It's fine Hyunnie," you quickly tell him, hoping that he won't feel guilty about it.

"You're not still in the mood are you?" He tries his luck.

"Sorry baby," you respond regretfully. "I'm just so tired."

He thought as much, but Hyunjin isn't mad. He'd never get angry or upset with you for not doing something you don't feel like doing. He is however, happy that you don't feel pressured into fulfilling his needs too.

"That's okay love, I'll cook us some dinner yeah?"

JISUNG

Ever since Jisung saw the state you were in since they finished the show, he couldn’t sit still throughout the interview that took place prior. All he could think about was how many different ways he was going to fuck you when he goes back to the hotel room.

He wants to have you ride him in the bathtub - watching your tits bounce in his face and for him to suck. He wants to fuck you against the wall of the shower, or fuck you against the windows for everyone to see. To fuck you on the desk, on the bed, even the floor.

Thinking about it all, Jisung had fully worked himself up that he swore he was semi-hard during the interview. If you hadn’t of headed back to the hotel, Jisung would’ve found you, taken you into a dressing room, and fucked you raw there.

But no. He had to deal with a painful hard on that he was trying to conceal from everyone on the ride from the venue to the hotel. Once he had made it up to the room in a frantic rush, he closes and locks the door behind him and spots you on your phone, sitting on the bed.

“Please, please, please, please I need you so bad,” he says, nearly gasping for air as he speaks.

Jisung paces over to you and kneels on the floor before the edge of the bed as his head rests between your legs, nuzzling into the inside of your knee. His hands glide up your the sides of your legs, right up the waistband of your pyjama shorts. He was waiting for you to give him the green light to tear them down and eat you out like he’s been deprived of it.

His sudden appearance took you by surprise at first, but after seeing that state he was in, it was like low hanging fruit - an opportunity too good to pass up.

“But you left me Sungie,” you say mournfully. “I had to get off all by myself.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I did say it was only going to take an hour, but it wasn’t my fault because the interview took longer than it should’ve. They kept asking-“

As he babbles away his excuse, almost like he’s about to cry, you can’t help but laugh silently in the back of your mind at how quick Jisung can just flip like a switch. Before he was smug and cocky about leaving you flustered when you needed him. Now he’s on his knees, literally begging for your body.

You use your foot to palm over the hard tent in his pants, forcing him to stifle whimpers, “you’ll be lucky if you even get to cum in your pants Han Jisung."

FELIX

Felix had spent the last half an hour listening to you whine, moan, cry, even scream in the background as he was gaming. Prior to this, he had you lie at the end of his bed, bound pathetically, and tortured with a vibrator that he carefully mounted over your clit. After leaving you like that, his instructions were clear - don’t cum.

As if you were going to listen to him.

Felix had no idea that you came. Multiple times in fact. You managed to pass off your orgasms as frustrated moans without him noticing. Felix should’ve realised after he finished gaming when he turned around and saw the wet mess you involuntarily made on his bed. He didn’t care though, Felix just wanted to fuck you, and was ready for it too.

“Good girl,” he praises, turning the vibrator off and removing it, thin strings of cum still sticking to the toy as it’s being moved.

He could’ve fucked you like this; bound and helpless, but the biggest mistake he made was releasing you from the restraints. Now you were able to move, to stand up from the bed and head over towards the bathroom.

“Thank you,” you say to him before he can even register what you were doing.

“W-Where are you going?” He asks, puzzled.

"Going to have a shower now."

"You're not...you don't want me to fuck you?" Felix responds, struck with so much surprise that his mouth remains ajar.

"I came though so..."

"You came? When I told you not to?" He questions.

"Come on,” you jibe at him. “You didn't actually think that I wasn't going to, after just leaving me like that?"

"Can't I fuck you then?" He urges his suggestion.

"Tonight maybe, if I'm not tired," you shrug. "Looks like you'll have to take care of yourself in the meantime."

Felix doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to take care of himself. He wants you instead. But that was to be a lesson learnt on his behalf for not fully acknowledging your needs.

SEUNGMIN

It had been hours since you saw Seungmin last. Whilst you had the home to yourself, he was at the company with Jisung, piecing together the last of a song they want to release in the future. You knew how hard he was working on it and even felt a bit guilty after almost interrupting it completely from earlier on.

It’s not always like you to let your needs get the better of you. In saying that, they’re your primal needs. Being horny is not exactly something you can help and having a boyfriend like Seungmin, there is zero guarantee that you'll behave yourself.

He's a fine man and the thought of his body and all the instances when you've had sex were used as a reference to help get yourself off while he was absent. Straight after that, you came right back to your senses, truly reinforcing the meaning of 'post-nut clarity'.

Since you had no idea when Seungmin was returning, you weren't going to wait around for him and decided to get out of the house for a bit after showering up and getting ready. You managed to take yourself to a nice cafe, pop into some stores to look at clothes, purchase a few other items - all before Seungmin realised you weren’t home and called you straight away.

"Yes," you answer.

"Where are you?" he gets straight to the point.

"I went out," you respond. "Why's that?"

"It's just that I'm home and I was hoping that you were too."

"Oh, no I'll be out for a while," you tell him, hearing a disgruntled noise on the other end of the line.

"How long?"

"A couple of hours I guess? Why?" You ask again.

"Because I'm fucking hard, and I need you."

You stop dead in your tracks, mouth slightly parted in shock. Seungmin very rarely admits things like this. The majority of the time, he wants to make it about you rather than him. He delights in the reactions he can bring out of you when you're in the exact same state that he's got himself into now. And for what reason you're not too sure.

When he left the house, he didn't reciprocate any sign of being turned on, at least not as much as you were. Maybe, as he was away, he was thinking of you - he had to have been thinking about you to work himself up like that. Then for him to admit it is something else...

"Really?" You reply. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Seungmin groans, "come home please. I need to fuck you - that's what I'm going to do about it."

"Hmm, I dunno. I am supposed to be meeting up with a friend soon..."

"Reschedule with them or go later,” he suggests, growing steadily impatient. “Please come home, for me.”

“Nah, I dunno,” you sigh. “I don’t want to be that friend.”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last until then,” Seungmin says to himself even though you can hear him loud and clear. He does sound really desperate.

“Sorry Minnie, looks like you’ll have to figure this one out on your own.”

JEONGIN

The few sources of motivation that Jeongin had to drag him throughout the remainder of dance practice were a couple of explicit photo of yourself. That was to be followed up with a five second video of you pleasuring yourself in front of a mirror, waiting for Jeongin to come home.

He made sure that his phone was on mute and that nobody was close by just in case. Once he was safe, Jeongin played the video. Watching you tease your clit, fingers sliding down to your wet hole but not fully fucking yourself.

Jeongin swallows, exits out of the video, locks his phone, then tries desparately to forget the images he just saw in order to continue with the last ten minutes of dance practice. But as soon as that's over, he's out the door and doesn't look back. On his way home, he decides to flick you a message as a forewarning for what's about to happen when he arrives.

From Jeongin: I asked you to send me another pic, not a video of you playing with yourself. Think I might have to punish you for that.

To his displeasure though, he never received your response. All he gets is an empty apartment, nobody else home except him. So he decides to text you again.

From Jeongin to you: where are you??

To Jeongin from you: out

From Jeongin to you: now you respond to my text

To Jeongin from you: didn’t even see it sorry

From Jeongin to you: okay well, you can come home now.

To Jeongin from you: what for? I’m at the supermarket getting groceries

From Jeongin to you: shit, ring me

You look down at the messages from Jeongin with suspicion. He was acting weird, but that’s probably because you had in fact sent him a series of nudes this morning that he’s clearly going feral over. However, you decide to do as he asks if you and ring him.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Please get me off.”

Your eyes widen, “whatever happened to ‘hello’?”

“Y/N I’m serious,” Jeongin responds pleadingly.

“I’m in a public place full of people Jeongin, now isn’t really a good time,” you tell him flatly. “Plus, you have hands.”

“Hands that aren’t going to do the trick because I need you,” he replies.

“Oh, so you need me?” You tease him.

“Yes, fuck - I need you, please just-“

“Hold on my phones about die, I’ll see you when I get home.”

The line on Jeongin’s phone cuts as he looks down at his screen in horror as if the device is melting through his fingers. His heart plummets into his stomach. There’s no way you just left him like that. You wouldn’t do that to him. You wouldn’t just leave him hard and horny. You’re supposed to be his good girl.

Supposed to be at least.

[worst-father-tournament]

propaganda under the cut

Gabriel Agreste: "brother dont get me STARTED!!!

-dude generally just neglects his son at all times, has isolated him since he was a child until said child rand away from home because he simply wanted to go to school

-child has to beg and plead just for him to EAT DINNER/ANY MEAL OF THE DAY WITH HIM(this child is so lonely and sad

-though child- ok his name is adrien i cant bare this- adrien is generally fine with modeling he doenst really like it but his father forces him to keep going anyway (until season 5 but thats a whole different thing)

-he speculated that his son was one of the heroes (father is the villian) and tested his theory with adrien JUMPING OFF A BUILDING AND NOT LETTING THE OTHER HERO (LADYBUG) CATCH HIM UNTIL IT WAS ALMOST TOO LATE!!

-ok im adding this, in a seperate timeline we're shown(actually two seperate timelines but they go generally the same) where he actually does find out his son his a hero against him and he decides to SHOW HIM HIS MOTHERS CORPSE (hes also keeping in their basement by the way) and then reveal that he is his father, BEAT HIM UP??? and poor adrien is literally backing away in fear from him and then he "evilizies" him with his power and jesus christ

-ok season 5 stuff amiright- adrien gets a girlfriend and his father does not approve because he just never wants his son happy (he wanted him to date another girl but they tried that and it clearky didnt work out) so he SENDS HIM AWAY TO LONDON (they live in paris) TO ISOLATE HIM MORE IN A GOD DAMN PADDED CELL??? (he cant leave)

gosh theres so so SO more i could put but i think this is well enough reasons…"

Clay Puppington: "He shot his son while drunk, denies it and says "i'm glad i shot you""

"He suuuucks, he is a broken awful man, a raging alcoholic and is incapable of ever loving his son. He just straight up lies to Orel all the time by either misinterpreting or making up bible verses so he can teach his son literally the worst lessons ever and it always leads to Orel following what he says and doing crazy shit like impregnating god knows how many women in their sleep. And for every problem Orel makes, he teaches him his lesson by just beating him with a belt even though Orel is LITERALLY just following what he says. When Orel was bloodied and beaten coming home, he has no concern for his sons injured state and is more worried for detergent costs?¿ He puts Orel through intense psychological torture which results in Orel killing himself like 3 times and he still doesn't care after multiple hospital trips and finds it more amusing than anything, even laughing at his sons torment. He took him out on a camping trip which resulted with him shooting Orel in the leg, drinking all the rubbing alcohol in his face just to be a cruel bitch, blaming Orel that he got shot and letting Orel sit there injured all night as he slept. He later tells Orel he's glad he shot him. He runs over an old man and blames Orel for it. He kind of just blames Orel for everything this man is incapable of taking responsibility. This is DEFINITELY FAR from everything, but I'll leave it here."

"Physically abused and shot his older son, is neglectful towards his younger son. Verbally abusive towards his wife. An alcoholic. Please kill him"