#it's completely mental and i remember loving it as a kid...sure i had it on DVD...

[starleska]

fellow British folks, did you ever watch the movie Tooth (2004)? until recently i was convinced i just hallucinated it, but i've found you can buy it on a few streaming services...it is a Christmas movie and i remember it being completely deranged 💀

[ang3ltine]

"𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠" - Robert ("Bob") Reynolds x freader x platonic thunderbolts

Bob was asleep for God knows how long, now that he has the chance at a better life. Who better to show him than you?

a.n - Ava was sick of seeing you and Bob dance around eachother like puppies in love, so she does something about it

warnings - mention of mental illness, lovesick Bob! minor spoilers and major fluff!!

"Remember to call us if you need anything ok?" You were currently on the quinjet, ready to leave for a mission. But there was a problem, Bob had to stay in the tower by himself.

Bob nodded hurriedly before ushering you back onto the ship, but you hesitated when he turned to leave. You grab his arm rather quickly, which prompted him to look back at you with wide eyes.

"Be safe," you whispered softly so that it falls in his ears only.

Both Ava and Yelena heard the couple from a distance and snickered to themselves.

"I.. I will," Bob stutters before giving you a tight-lipped 'bob' smile. He stepped back so that he wouldn't delay your mission.

The hatch to the ship closed as you peer down at the small figure waving at you. Yet, you could almost feel the smugness of the duo behind you.

"Be safe," Yelena says with sickingly sweet tone while Ava butt's in afterwards. "Oh I'll be so safe."

You give them a deadpan look before responding with crossed arms. "Can you guys stop?"

"But how will that keep us safe?" Ava retorts sarcastically while Yelena falls into her arms dramatically. "I'll be safe once you kiss me."

You knew the two of them were mocking you for having a soft spot for Bob. Ever since you guys took him in after his 'incident' as Sentry. No thanks to Valentina ofcourse.

"Can you girls stop gossiping? It's annoying." John grunted while adjusting his suit.

The team was split into two for today's mission. Boys vs. Girls to make matters worse, but you guys didn't want to lose to John Walker.

So you tried your very best to complete your part of the mission as quickly as possible. An old hydra base had been spotted a few weeks ago so Bucky wanted to check it out and gather intel, just in case.

The location was in the snowy mountains of Slovakia and it was a mission based on stealth. Something that John struggled with, and Alexei, so he was left in charge of the jet. Much to his disappointment.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me..." John mutters as he spots you from a distance with a smug smile on your face.

"Hey asshat, how's the taste of being a loser feel?" You quipped while happily walking out of the building, after successfully infiltrating it.

John on the other hand had failed his part and the others had to step in while he sat in the quinjet with minor injuries.

He puts his hands up in defence before sighing. "Fine, you win this time."

Internally he was fuming, but he wasn't ready to admit that.

"Relax I was just kidding." You mused while passing by him with a quick pat on his back. John knew that you were joking, but it was reassuring to hear the words himself.

"You think Bob's doing ok?" You mumbled while putting on your seat belt.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he's curled up on the couch thinking about you." Yelena let's out a coarse laugh while she takes her seat next to you.

" Oh 'lena what would I do without you?" You say sarcastically while she links her arms with yours. "You'll be lost...and unsafe."

The last comment made you roll your eyes before finally laughing along to the joke. As the rumble of the quinjet signalled it's takeoff sequence, so you got ready to take a nap on the journey back home.

What you all didn't expect was to find Bob standing on the helipad, with a pillow in hand. It seemed like he was anticipating your return since he was sort of giddy when you got off.

"Ahh look your boyfriend was waiting for you after all," Ava makes the comment while walking past you swiftly. You shook your head unamsingly before making your way towards the awaiting brunette.

"Were you waiting for us?" You sighed while reaching up to fix his hair. It had gotten messy due to the blast of wind from the quinjet engines.

"Oh well...I sort of had another episode while you were gone...so I thought I'd wait out here until you returned." It was hard to make out what he was said on the last part but nonetheless, you pull him into a warm embrace.

"You wanna talk about it?" You whisper into his hair before running your fingers through the dark brown locks. Bob shook his head as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Not wanting to push him, you just stood there while holding him until he was ready to go back inside.

What you didn't notice was how fast Bob's heart was racing while you two hugged.

Deep down he was glad that you didn't, he would be too embarrassed to ever admit that he secretly liked you. For now, it was better for you not to know.

"You got that right?" Ava asks while squinting her eyes to get a better view from the hanger. The sound of a click from a camera could be heard before Yelena answers with her phone in hand.

"Got it." Yelena snickers mischievously.

"We need a plan to get these two idiots to confess."

"What do you have in mind?" Yelena turns to Ava while she thinks of something.

"Ok... I think I have one."

"Is...is this ok?" Bob asks while showing his bowl full of cake batter. You leaned in slightly to see for yourself, and to your surprise, it was perfectly light and airy.

"Wow Bob! The batter looks perfect!"

Bob breaks into a wide grin at the compliment as the rush of giddiness returned. He observed the way your mouth was moving while you talks and was seemingly under a trance, that was until you pulled him back to reality.

"Bob sweetie are you ok?" You say in a gentle tone as you wave your hands infront of his face. He blinked at few times , seemingly lost before nodding. "Uh.. yeah I'm good."

"Aww you call him sweetie now?"

You sighed and hung your head low at the sound of the familiar voice. " 'lena don't push it."

You two had been dancing around each other for about 2 months now. Every day, it seemed like you were closer to getting Bob out of his shell. Whatever you did worked because he was able to start training with you all without the worry of the 'void' returning.

Speaking of Bob, he was in the kitchen having his dinner with Ava's company. It was late and well past midnight when the group had finished their training.

Her plan was beginning to unfold when you rushed into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your shoulder.

"What happened? Is there any emergency?!"

Your hair was slightly damp from the shower you had just taken. Bob recognised the top that you were wearing and almost choked on his food. You were wearing his blue t-shirt that he had left behind a few nights ago.

"There's no emergency is there?" You sighed as you shift your gaze towards the woman near the refrigerator. She simply shrugged before taking a chug of cold milk.

Bob had completely forgotten about the shirt and to make things worse was that you look absolutely gorgeous with it on. Not to mention, your thighs were exposed since your shorts were hidden underneath the gigantic top.

"Bob...! I didn't know you were still awake," blood rushed to your cheeks when you realised Bob was staring directly at you with wide eyes. You had no idea he'd be here, thinking that everyone else had gone to sleep already.

Bob cleared his throat and swiped his bowl to the side. His dinner now forgotten about and directed his attention towards you. You felt like a deer caught in headlights.

You were planning on giving his shirt back but you kept on delaying up until now.

"Oh uh --...hey love." Bob stutters slightly while he drinks in your appearance. Which was very out of character for him, even making Ava stop dead in her tracks from the sudden pet name.

The muscles of your cheeks began to rise as you felt yourself smile at the sweet nickname that he had given you. Bob on the other hand? Felt himself swoon whenever you gave him that smile of yours.

Yelena returned from the pantry with a bottle of water in his hand with a shit eating grin on her face. Giving knowing glances between the two of you.

"Its good to see you too 'lena," you sighed before making your way towards the counter.

"How's your day been beautiful?"

Bob was caught offguard by hearing Ava giving you a pet name as he blinks at her in confusion. Was there something going on between you and Ava that he didn't know about?

He became even more jumpy when he noticed your form taking a seat right next to him.

You fought back the urge to smile again when you noticed the tips of Bob's ears turning red. He looked like a puppy begging for attention. Nonetheless you turn back to Ava to answer her question.

"My days been eventful, to say the least. I mean I made some new adjustments to my suit so it could take in more volts of energy-"

Ava nodded and promted you to carry on. You spoke about the drills you had done with John and Bucky aswell.

Bob had tuned out of the conversation. He rested his head on his palm as a lovesick sigh escaped his lips. He followed the way your mouth moved while you talked and the way your hair would bounce slightly from every gesture you'd make.

Seeing the way your eyes would sparkle whenever you'd talk about something you're interested in.

Bob considered himself lucky to be in your presence and the way the light above them gave you a warm glow. He didn't even notice the conversation dying down as you, Ava and Yelena turned their heads towards him.

You looked at him with concern while Yelena muffled her laugh behind her hand. She saw how smitten her best friend looked which only convinced her more to get you two together.

"Bob hon', are you ok?"

Ava let out a choked laugh at the nickname. You gave her a light glare as she calmed herself down.

Your body was fully facing the now flustered Bob, he almost flinched out of instinct when your cold hand met his burning cheeks.

"Geez Bobby you're burning up, are you feeling ok?" You started to get worried, thinking maybe he had gotten a fever.

"Mmh? I'm feelin' fine though." Bob murmured as he looked like he was going to collapse right there in your arms. Getting absolutely drunk from the attention you were giving him.

"I'd say otherwise," Ava mumbled to herself in amusement as she excused herself, also dragging Yelena with her despite her protests.

She believed that the two needed some privacy so she had the fabulous idea of locking you two in.

"Seriously guys?!" You yelled when the shut the door on you both. Knowing that there was no use in chasing after them, you turn to face Bob again.

Bob saw the way your mouth was still moving but he couldn't focus on the words that you were saying. If this was anyone else, he wouldn't even let them touch him. Depending on the person ofcourse, like Yelena.

But it was you. The woman that had the ability to make his heart hurt from how lovely you were. He'd never felt so much love for someone in a long time and it kind of scares him.

You were still patting his cheek, feeling the slightly rough stuble beneath your skin. You also moved stray hairs out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. He wanted to say something but no words came out.

"Maybe we should head to the med bay to get yourself checked out." You were about to get up to leave until you felt a strong grip on your arm as Bob made you sit back down again.

"Do you not want to go?" You asked in confusion as you tilted your head. Bob froze as he tried to figure out what he should do next.

His hands slowly reached up towards your cheeks and gently caressed them with his thumb. He was impossibly close now, his nose practically touching yours.

You were surprised at how bold he was being but you weren't one to complain. But still, you waited to see what he would do next.

The faint scent of your shampoo and conditioner fills his nostrils. Your peer into his deep blue eyes, his pupils were dilated but oh so full of love.

You hesitated, and rightfully so. Bob had the tendency to fluctuate his mood so you weren't sure whether you should take advantage of the situation.

Bob brushes his lips against yours, testing the waters. Not knowing if you wanted this or not. Without a second to waste, you pressed your lips fully against his.

They molded together perfectly, you don't know why you waited so long to feel this, to feel him.

His lips were like you imagined, soft and plump with a hint of cinnamon since he just started eating his dessert.

But a distant voice at the back of Bob's head made him pull away.

You noticed the way his eyes filled with worry, knowing something was bothering him. He lets out a shaky breath as you feel a slight shift in his demeanour, as if trying to hold something or someone at bay.

"Would you... want someone like me? I mean -... you don't think I'm...pathetic?" A hurt laugh escaped his lips as he mentions the last part.

"Darling, is that the reason why you're so hesitant?" Your heart hurt squeezed at the thought of him even thinking of being unworthy of love.

You lift his chin up so that he'd make eye contact with you again.

"You know...I fell for you for a reason, Bob. That means every part of you, including your insecurities. Because... that's what makes you human, just like us."

He couldn't help but smile brightly at your statement as all his worries leaving him in an instant. The voice that was nagging him not a moment ago, vanished. As if it wasn't there in the first place.

You pressed a chaste kiss on his lips to start off, causing Bob to become even more giddy than usual. Then turning into laughter as you pepper his face with kisses before pressing one last kiss on his now pink lips. Due to the excess tint from your lipbalm.

"Thanks for believing in me..." Bob whispers against your lips as he peers down at you through his lashes.

"Always," you whispered back in a slightly quieter tone while brushing the stray hair away from his eyes.

You silently ask for Bob's permission with your eyes, which he answered with a firm nod before leaning back in once again.

He lets out a surprised gasp against your mouth when you took a seat on his lap for better access. Taking the chance to show him how much you truly loved the man beneath you.

The rest of the world faded around you as you both got lost in time. It was beginning to get hard to breathe as he pulls you against him to deepen the kiss. You felt a butterflies deep in your stomach that you never felt before with anyone.

Bob could taste the slight hint of strawberry on your tongue from the candy you had eaten just before taking a shower. In another bold act of gesture, he takes the opportunity to fully immerse himself in the kiss and sucks lightly on your bottom lip. Wanting to taste more.

His hands were all over you and he had a hard time keeping himself under control. Giving your hips a gentle squeeze while you sat on his lap.

He whimpers against your lips while you gently prod and nibble on his bottom lip, the soft muscle becoming swollen.

Literally, anyone could walk in and see you two, but clearly that wasn't on their mind at the moment.

But eventually you both had to pull away for air, your cheeks were flushed but you were content. Smiling softly down at the adorable brunette below you. Bob lightly nuzzled his nose against yours while both your breaths became foggy due to the cold air in the kitchen.

"So Sunshine....can I finally call you mine?"

Before he could answer you hear the sound of muffled talking in the hallway and they were headed straight towards the kitchen.

You two quickly scrambled off eachother and tried to act casual. Bob picked at his now cold food while you rummaged through the fridge.

"Cut the act you two. We already know what happened." A teasing voice called out. "By the way, we have pictures as proof."

You internally groan as you turn to see Ava with a smirk on her face with Yelena having the same amused look.

"So, are you two dating now?" Ava asks while she looks between you and Bob.

You huffed as you made your way over to Bob, who was already standing up from his seat and stood beside the chair awkwardly. You reached his height by tiptoeing slightly and placed a firm yet soft kiss on his cheek.

Bob's face turned almost bright red while Ava and Yelena both looked at you in disbelief.

Which only made the situation all the more amusing. They didn't expect you to be so bold.

"I guess we are," you respond with a doting smile as Bob shared the same look he'd always had.

Lovesick.

Taglist: @doodlebob-mp3 @starktonyx @perdidosbucky-yyo @marianastudiesart @ordelixx @hisredheadedgoddess28 @avatarobsessedgirly @starstruckfirecat @adventure-awaits13

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt2 of dp x dc au where Danny is the 99th attempt to clone Kon by Tim. Danny is an overprotective 2 year old who hates Ra's Al Gul with a passion.

[Pt1: here] [pt3: here]

Tim is more than ready to leave the LoA and stop having to dance around Ra's. He doesn't feel safe, but he needed the resources. Dick made getting them any other way impossible, with him telling the whole hero community he's crazy and needs help and shit. Tim is more than pissed about it, but he can't help but be amused by the outcome.

Sure, Ra's is trying to wife him, and that's awful and terrifying and all, but watching Ra's try to win over a 2 year old who despises his very existence is hilarious. Aedan, or Danny as the toddler is insisting to be called, goes out of his way to be petty to Ra's and clings to Tim any time the man enters the room. Danny has torn or spilled things on paperwork and clothing, left things just out of sight to trip Ra's, put foods in unexpected places as the man steps or sits in it, purposely and maliciously coloured on and destroyed things he found out were Ra's and Ra's alone, and so much more. Tim is kind of proud of the chaos.

But Tim also has to shove down the anxiety that Ra's might have actually did something to Danny while on his missions. Danny was left on base because it was too dangerous to bring him. He tries to get back as fast as safely possible, just in case, though. Danny hasn't said anything yet on WHY he despises Ra's, but Tim is keeping an eye out.

All in all though, Tim has no remorse as he packs up and leaves with Danny in toe, blowing up every base he knows about and draining their accounts on his way out. He leaves Danny with Tam during his final showdown with Ra's, making sure Dick is in the area to catch him. He's not leaving his baby early.

"So I have everything I need to prove Bruce is alive and how to save him. I'm NOT crazy." Tim tells Dick when he wakes up after his fight with a pissed off Ra's, before remembering Danny and chuckling, "Actually, I'm a little crazy. Not about the Bruce thing, or what I did to prove it, but I did do something else insane."

"I believe you... about the Bruce thing." Dick eyes him in concern. "What did you do?"

"I maaaay have cloned Kon."

"You WHAT?" Steph looks absolutely flabbergasted. All his family members do actually, including Alfred.

"Yeah, so, I had a little bit of a mental breakdown." Tim stares at his hands, picking at the nails. "I was really missing Kon and spiraled and now I have a son... surprise.."

There's so much sputtering before Steph slams her hands on the medical bed, silencing everyone and getting Tim to look at her. She's flung her Spoiler mask off and leaning way too close.

"You have a son?? How old is he?? When can we meet him?? What's his name??"

"Er.. his name is Aedan Drake, he insists on being called Danny currently. He's about 2. And you'll be meeting him as soon as I can call Tam. I didn't want either of them near when Ra's came for me." Tim leans away from her. "Especially because Danny seems to hate the guy and puts himself between us at any chance he gets."

"That's concerning" Dick mumbles.

"Yeah.." Tim blinks hard. "I'm not even sure why Danny hates him. I have no idea if Ra's did something to him while I was otherwise engaged. It terrifies me not to know, but I only have the word of a creep and a 2 year old to go off of."

No one seems to know what to say to that. They all silently agree to keep an eye out for any signs Ra's did something to Danny.

"Can you pass me my phone?"

"Sure, Timmy." Dick hands over the phone. "Who do you think is going to be his favourite aunt or uncle?"

"Fuck if I know, the kid is completely different from Kon when it comes to interests. I love it, but it makes guessing what he'll like interesting. Currently, he's obsessed with space and ghost stuff. He likes watching space documentaries over cartoons." Tim chuckles while locating Tam's number.

Steph laughs. "Of course your kid is as weird as you!"

He sticks his tongue at her, and she does it right back. The call connects.

"Tim?"

"Hey, Tam! Not dead yet!" He grins at her groan. "I'm at the manor. Tell Danny to be careful of my ribs before you bring him over."

"Can do. Be there in 20. Danny? Do you want to say hi to your daddy?" Is all the warning Tim gets before his son screeches.

"HI, DADDY!" He can't hold in his laughter. The siblings closest to him look amused, clearly having heard the yelling.

"Hi, Danny! Tam giving you candy?"

"Nooo" Danny is a terrible liar. Tam says something. "See you soon, daddy."

Tam takes the phone before Tim can reply. "He didn't want to sleep before he saw you. I expect he'll crash after seeing your okay, candy or no candy."

"It's fine, Tam. I don't care so long as it doesn't become a regular thing. Now, drive safe."

"See you soon." And the call ends.

Dick sniffles. "My little Timmy is growing up!"

Steph points dramatically at him. "You're a teen dad!!"

"I mean, I'm a teen vigilante and a teen CEO. Being a teen dad is the most normal thing I currently am." Tim says, raising an eyebrow at her. "Beside, you technically were too. Only difference is I'm just keeping the baby I made... Er.. I mean that in the least insulting way possible. I respect your decision, just respect mine."

"Okay, but you virgin Mary-ed your baby. I, at least, got laid for mine."

Tim flushes. "Dude!"

"I'm sure we can still find you someone our age into dilfs and get your cherry popped." Steph grins at him.

"Steph! Shut up about my sex life!" Tim throws a pillow at her and struggles out of bed. "I hate you so much right now."

"Master Tim, please take the crutches if you're planning to leave the med bay." Alfred calls out, and Tim grumbles, but complies. Detouring to the locker room and throwing on a sweater and some sweatpants that's been sitting in his locker for a year. They smell a little musty, but they're clean and cover the bandages. Hopefully his son won't freak out too bad. Losing his spleen traumatized the poor kid.

He heads upstairs to wait near the front door. Dick, Damian, and Steph following behind him like the worse ducklings he could think of. Dick, at least, grabs a chair so Tim can sit while they wait.

"Master Tim, does Master Danny have any allergies? And what are his food preferences?" Alfred asks as he passes out post patrol drinks. Tim doesn't accept his, he doesn't want it to be in the way when Danny comes flying in. Literally. Danny figured out how to float about a month ago, and his feet have barely touched the floor since.

"He's got the same weaknesses as all the other kryptonians. He's not a picky eater and doesn't seem to be allergic to anything food wise, but he hates toast." He smiles at the looks his siblings send him. "Don't ask me why. He just hates toast. Veggies, no problem, but toast? Toast leads to temper tantrums."

Steph cackles loudly at that while a confused Dick chuckles.

"I shall keep that in mind." Alfred sounds amused.

"I've gained massive respect for Ma and Pa Kent. Superpowered toddler tantrums are rough when you're just a human." Tim knows he has a dopey look on his face, but couldn't care less. "Danny's such a sweet kid, though. He gets so distraught if he accidentally hits me and does everything in his childish power to apologize and "make up" for it when he does."

Tim frowns. "Which is another reason I'm worried Ra's did something. Danny would hit, kick, and bite the man anytime he got in range. It seems out of character and more personal than just not wanting to share his dad."

"That is concerning." Dick shares his worried frown. They wipe the looks off their faces when there's a knock on the door. Steph dances over and opens it.

"Hell-"

"DADDY!" A tiny blur darts around her and skids to a stop in front of Tim. He can hear his siblings melt as this tiny child holds up his arms. "Up!"

"Just remember to be careful with my ribs, sweetheart. They got hurt." Tim says while scooping his son up. "You ran right past your aunt and uncles, think you can say hi to them?"

Danny looks at his siblings, seemingly debating if he vibes with them, before waving a tiny hand. "Hi.."

Steph and Dick being overly dramatic and acting like they just suffered a heart attack from cuteness, spooks the poor kid. Danny hides his face in Tim's shoulder. Damian edges closer, blocking Dick and Steph's view. He makes sure to lean down to be more at Danny's eye level.

"Hello, Aedan. I am Damian Al Gul Wayne. I hear you dislike my grandfather. A valid response to meeting the man." Danny peaks at him, and the teen gives him a small smile. "Ignore Stephanie and Richard, they can be a lot, but they mean well."

"Baby Bat!" Dick sounds like close to happy tears.

"Demon Brat! That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me!" The grin is audible in Steph's voice.

"They are, unfortunately, also idiots." Damian says sagely.

"There it is." Tim chuckles, running a hand through Danny's soft feathery hair. Danny looks between Tim and Damian, there's a calculating look on his face, clearly deciding if he should give this "Al Gul" a chance. "It's fine, Danny. He's very different than his grandfather. If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll introduce you to his pets."

"Pets?" Danny blinks and turns to fully look at Damian.

"Indeed. I currently have a cat, a dog, a cow, and a turkey." Danny literally vibrates at the news.

"Can I meet them?"

"I'd be more than happy to introduce you tomorrow." Tim has never seen Damian look so soft. "You and your father should get a good night's rest. You'll have more energy to play that way."

Danny pouts, but agrees. "Okay."

"Thanks for babysitting, Tam." Tim calls out to the woman watching everything unfold with amusement.

"No problem. He was an angel, even while sugar high." She grins. "I'd be more than willing to do it again sometime. I'm going to head out now. Bye, Danny!"

"Bye!!" Danny floats a little to wave wildly at her as she leaves. Damian keeps his surprise off his face and not moving in the way of the tot's goodbyes.

"Aedan, may I carry you?" Damian asks once Danny is settled back in Tim's lap. "Your father unfortunately needs to use crutches to get to his room."

Tim is amused by the calculating look sliding back onto Danny's face. He can only imagine the kid's internal debate; let Damian pick him up and the Drakes can retire and cuddle in Tim's room or stay right where he is. It never ceases to amuse Tim on how Danny can ping pong between normal toddler behavior and being ridiculously serious. He blames himself for forgetting to adjust the knowledge download when making him. The kid knows about more things than he should, and it's made him more jaded than a 2 year old should be.

"Okay... on'y cause it's bedtime." Danny informs Damian while holding his arms out. Damian gently picks him up.

"Of course." Tim can't believe how cute his murderous little brother is being. Guess he can add small children to the things that make the teen loosen up.

Tim struggles a little getting up the stairs, but he gets there. Damian waits patiently with a worried Danny at the top. Tim is positive that only reason he isn't being teased is because his siblings don't want his protective baby to dislike them. It's funny, but actually really nice. He's really tired of his family's culture of making fun of any weakness. Danny's cute baby face and hatred for bullying is really going to change this place, Tim just knows it.

Dick carries Danny's baby bag upstairs after them. Tim can feel Dick wanting to coo, but holding it in because Danny keeps eyeing him warily. Just adding to Tim's amusement.

Once in Tim's room, and after good nights are exchanged, Tim and Danny get ready for bed. Tim cleans himself up by taking a bird bath in the sink, not fully willing to commit to a shower just yet. He mostly just doesn't want to change his bandages. He also wants to cuddle his son, who's patiently waiting on the bed with his wolf plushy. He named it Wulf, which was a hilariously Kon thing to do. Tim nearly died from cuteness when Danny told him the plushy's name.

Tim lays down and tucks Danny to his chest. "I love you, kiddo."

"I 'ove you, too, Daddy." Danny mumbles before conking out. Tim can't help his smile. He dozes off to Danny's tiny snores.

Tim wakes up to Danny wiggling around. The tot waking up, but not wanting to. A glance towards his alarm clock, 10:30. They've actually slept in. Nice.

"Morning, Danny."

"M'ning." Danny mumbles directly before unintentionally smacking Tim in the face with Wulf. Tim huffs a laugh and sits up, his spin cracking as he stretches.

"You hungry?"

Danny flops over, grumpy to be awake. "Yeah."

Tim grins and scoops Danny up. "Let's eat breakfast in pajamas!"

Danny looks surprised. Tim insisted they be dressed in light armor the whole time they were on the LoA, so the suggestion must seem insane to him. He scrunches up his face. "It's safe here?"

"This is probably one of the safest places for us to be." Tim kisses Danny's forehead. "I'll admit, it hasn't always been that way for me in particular, but we're working on it, and I trust them to not stab me in the back... You're allowed to be as petty as you want if you find them dissatisfactory."

"Like wif Rawthy?" Tim takes a deep pleasure in Danny's deliberate mispronouncing of Ra's name. Danny knows how and can say it properly. He just chooses not to. Tim loves it.

"Exactly." Danny is now completely awake and buzzing to cause chaos. It's adorable.

"Yay!" Tim starts carrying Danny to the kitchen, completely abandoning the crutches he was told to use.

"Just remember to play nice first. You don't want to accidentally bully someone who doesn't deserve it."

"Fine.." Danny pouts. Tim kisses his cheek.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Master Tim. Where are your crutches?" Alfred jump scares the Drakes.

"O-oh! Hi, Alfred, I was just taking Danny to the kitchen for breakfast!" Alfred raises an eyebrow and Tim pouts. "And I didn't feel like using them."

"Oh yeah!" Danny remembers that Tim was using crutches now and is wiggling to be set down. "You're hurt, Daddy! Put me down!"

"Okay, okay, starlight!" Tim chuckles, setting the boy gently on his feet. "Better?"

"No!" Danny drags him to the kitchen's small breakfast table. "You'll never heal! Sit down! We'll get your crontches!"

"Crutches, Danny. And how about we have breakfast first. The crutches aren't going anywhere." Tim smiles at his son. "You can even ask Alfred what my wound care should be after we eat. He can explain everything and you can hold me to it."

"Indeed." Alfred sounds amused, possibly not thinking this 2 year old will hold them both to it, but Danny will.

"O'ay" Danny then blinks. "What's fo breakfast?"

It's all pretty peaceful. Tim just enjoying a lazy morning with his son. As soon as Danny is done eating, he drags Alfred away to get the crutches and explain Tim's wound care to him. Tim can only watch on in helpless amusement.

"He's adorable." Dick grins as he enters the room and sits across from Tim.

"Yeah." Tim is still smiling at the doorway Danny and Alfred left from, but it takes a sad tilt. "Losing my spleen really traumatized him. He polices my unhealthy habits and does his best to get me to take care of my injuries when he's sure they won't be used against us."

"YOU LOST YOUR WHAT??"

"It's been a crazy year."

"Tim, Timmy, my caffeine addicted little brother, I'm going to need more information than that!" Dick is stressed, but Tim is still feeling a little petty, so he answers nothing.

"I forgot my meds, actually. I usually shove them in a pocket after dressing, but I didn't get dressed... oops." Tim shrugs. "It got Danny to feel safer with being here, since I'm not insisting on light armor or anything like on base."

"Tim! I have questions!" Dick is flailing.

"Daddy!" Danny flies into the room (literally) and is shoving his pillow divider case into his hands. "You forgot!"

"Thank you, Danny. I was just realizing that and was planning to grab them after you got my crutches." Tim runs a hand through Danny's hair before dry swallowing his medication. Alfred slides into the room with the crutches.

"It warms my heart to see a youth so dedicated to keeping track of other's health." Danny turns and beams at Alfred.

"I like helping!"

"That's very admirable, Master Danny."

Danny frowns a little. "I'm too little to help a lot yet."

"Any help is more help than before." Tim cuts in, giving a lopsided grin. "Besides, your dad is atrocious at self care. You got to help your dear ol' dad. I'd simply die without you."

"You're not old." Danny mumbles, blushing at how thick Tim is laying it on. Tim noticed early on that Danny needs to feel needed or helpful, or he'll spiral and get depressed. He's not sure why Danny is like that. Tim's 90% sure it's not something Tim downloaded into his brain or said to Danny, meaning it could be something he picked up from Tim's own behavior, or possibly someone at the LoA manipulated into him, or is just something Danny naturally had. Tim has no idea on the why, but makes a point to let Danny help him, even when he really doesn't need the help. He wants his baby happy, and does try to talk to Danny about not having to help. But, ya know, pot, kettle, and all that. Tim knows his own need to be useful is just as bad.

He should find them therapists for it now that he's thinking about it. Last thing he wants is Danny to end up like him. Tim has done some insane and stupid shit to help and/or please people.

"My joints disagree." Tim jokes.

"I feel that." Dick chuckles. "Good morning, Danny!"

"Good morning..." Danny says shyly, floating into Tim's lap.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" Dick asks.

"Dam'n's pets?" Danny looks hopeful.

"Ah, he's looking forward to introducing you." Dick aims his 100 watt smile at Danny, who doesn't seem to know what to think of the man.

"Indeed I am." Damian choses that moment to enter the room. "Hello, Aedan."

"Hi!!" Danny carefully gets off of Tim's lap so he can zoom to his uncle. "What is their names??"

Tim grabs the crutches Alfred left nearby. He spends the rest of the day dodging Dick's questions, watching Danny be delighted by Damian and his pets, and passing on the information on Bruce. It's a very nice, peaceful day.

So, of course, it can't stay that way. It's Duke meeting Danny that unintentionally disrupts the peace.

"Hello, Danny. I'm Duke Thomas. I'm a meta like you." Duke greets Danny cheerfully, but Tim can't help but notice Duke doesn't take his sunglasses off.

"Hi!!" Danny floats about a foot off the floor. "What powers do you have??"

"I have photokinesis." Duke makes a tiny rainbow in his hands. Danny oos and aaas over Duke's explanations before he totting over to Damian to play with Alfred the cat. Duke stares after Danny for a minute before turning to Tim, who's getting more and more worried.

"Duke?"

"Do you know Danny glows?"

"He what?" Tim's ribs hurt from how hard he jolts.

"Okay, okay, was pretty sure I was the only one who could see it." Duke mumbles before finally pushing his sunglasses up and making eye contact with Tim. "He glows the same way Jason does during a pit rage episode. Danny's glow is more stable and constant and a brighter shade of green, but it's definitely the same thing."

Tim can feel himself shaking in barely concealed rage. "That motherfucker. I should have completely destroyed everything he loved."

"Who?" Duke asks warily.

"Ra's. He had to have done something to Danny. There's no reason Danny should be glowing like that." Tim takes a calming breath, not wanting Danny to see him angry.

"I'm sorry." Duke offers his sympathy.

"Not as sorry as Ra's is going to be."

"Are we planning a murder over here?" Jason jokes as he enters the room through the door next to Tim and Duke and sees Tim's face.

"Debating the pros and cons of it currently." Tim takes another deep breath.

"Oh, shit, for real?" Jason looks shocked.

"Danny glows similarly to you." Duke explains. "Meaning Ra's definitely did something to him behind Tim's back."

"Ooooh! Yeah, okay, that's very murder worthy." Tim smiles a little at that, feeling validated.

"Thanks, Jason."

"No problem, I'll help. I got beef with both Ra's and Talia, so I can take all the blame if Goldie or Demon Brat ask." Jason offers. "Before that, introduce me at the kid. Dick has been insufferable all day. Squealing and sending pictures and shit."

Tim chuckles. "Yeah, I do that. Hey, Danny! Can I borrow you for a second?"

Danny pats Alfred the cat one last time before trots over.

"Danny, this is your Uncle Jason."

"Hel-"

"Why do you smell green?" Danny cuts Jason's greeting off. He's staring hard at his uncle.

"Smell green?" Jason head tilts and squats down to be closer to eye level with the kid. There's still a foot of difference between the two, but it's the thought that counts. "What do you mean?

"You smell green." Danny frowns, thinking hard on how to get them to understand what he means. "Like Rawthy. And the weird lake thingies."

"Rawthy?" Jason and Duke both look confused.

"That's his name for Ra's. Danny gives the people he doesn't like awful nicknames to mess with them." Tim smirks at the looks his siblings give him. "He's fully aware of what he's doing, and I see no reason to stop him."

"Oh! He's petty!" Jason grins. "Just like his dad!"

Danny beams at Jason, clearly proud of himself.

Jason preceeds to give the simplest and kid safe version they've ever heard of his story. "To answer your question, I got really hurt by a bad man, and so your uncle Damian's mother dropped me in the green lake to heal me, but the green got stuck."

Danny seems to think about what he was told before holding his hands up to Jason. "Hug?"

"Sure, kid." Jason scoops Danny up into his arms and stands. Jason seems to stiffen as Danny melts. "Huh?"

"What up?" Tim asks, eyeing Duke in a way that demands the picture Duke just took be sent Tim. He wants that picture. Duke smiles and nods.

"Your kid just calmed the Pit." Jason gives Tim a stunted blink. "It's completely silent."

"Huh??"

"Dude, I don't know!" Jason hugs a snuggly Danny closer to him. "I'm pretty sure I could argue with Bruce about his stupid rules and keep a level head right now. I'm hugging your kid anytime I see him if this is the vibe I get each time."

"Only if he agrees to it." Tim flounders with this new info. "I'm still trying to teach him boundaries and consent."

"He's definitely tied to the pit in some way." Duke says, texting rapidly. "It's unfortunate that we won't be able to locate and murder Ra's before Bruce is rescued."

"I should have taken my chance." Tim grumbles.

Damian walks over, eyeing Jason and Danny. "Something happen?"

"Apparently, Jason smells like green, like Ra's and the "green lake", and can calm Jason's pit." Tim explains. Damian looks pissed at the first part, understanding it means Danny was exposed to the Pits, but he looks like he's not sure how to take the second part. Which, mood.

Danny starts wiggling. "Down, please."

"Oh! Sure, little man." Jason gently puts Danny down. Danny slides up to Damian.

"Can I still play with kitty Alfred?"

"Let's go see. He might be done hanging out and we must respect that." Damian takes Danny's hand and leads him back to Alfred the cat. The remaining siblings watch them for a minute.

"He's sweet." Duke turns a smile towards Tim.

"Like sugar." Tim has his own fond smile. "I don't regret making him at all. Best mental breakdown decision I've ever made."

"You terrify me sometimes, Timbers."

"Only sometimes?" Duke jokes, but Tim can see there's some truth to Duke's joke. There's a wariness in his eyes. But Tim just shrugs, not offended in the slightest. He knows he's a bit much, and Duke is the newest to his brand of crazy.

Tim does end up giving Jason and Duke more concrete answers to his year away, unlike when Dick was asking earlier. Mostly because Tim and Jason started to bond before they both left Gotham and can commiserate, and he tells Duke because he's there and it's funny to watch his reactions to what Tim and Jason are saying. It reminds Tim that he's watched his sweet 2 year old troll the hell out of ninjas and Ra's.

The rest of the night is tame. It becomes apparent that Danny prefers the "calmer" family members. He shies away from anyone being rambunctious, so mostly Steph and Dick. Everyone else is just abandoned for a new person if they start yelling or shouting. Tim thinks it's probably because he's not used to Steph or Dick's energy, having not met anyone like them before, and his ears are sensitive. Tim starts looking for noise canceling headphones for him at that realization. He didn't notice because the LoA bases were always quiet, outside of the training grounds, so it wasn't an issue before.

Danny still polices Tim's wound care, much to everyone's amusement. He memorized everything Alfred the human told him about Tim's injuries and takes it very seriously.

It's a fun night, all things considered.

[loonylupinblack3]

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body. 

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury. 

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist. 

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones. 

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

[kbnyan]

Homophrosyne

— tim drake x male! reader

PART I

word count — 1.5k

notes — reader is a bit older than Tim, he has the same relationship to the team as babs, steph, luke, etc. (aka not bruce's kid), slowburn (co-workers to friends to best friends to something to friends again to lovers??)

summary — maybe you weren't part of the team like you once thought. despite being there since the early years, your relationship with them could only wither. unbeknownst to you, one boy was still there. funnily enough, he was the one to ignore you from the start.

warnings — cursing (just one lmao), tim's kind of a bitch when you first meet, mentions of jay's death, more of an introduction/prolongue if anything, as we go further i'll go more in depth with how reader is and how he feels which is lwk projection but not. his psyche is fucked like the rest of them and has an unordinary perception of love and all.

You didn’t belong in the Bat family — at least, not like before.

It wasn’t exactly fair to say you were ignored ever since. Bruce wouldn’t just take in a child only to ignore them from the start. There was a process, one that you must admit, you took part in.

A tiny child you were, only 7 years old, covered in dirt and whatever polluted the streets of Gotham. Torn slippers were all that protected your feet as you ran, far, far away from the crackhouse you were meant to call home.

You ran away at midnight, all the lamps in your street flickering in a fight to stay alive. Even as they tried, the lights were dim, so they didn’t have much use. You were unsure how far you’ve gone; perhaps a block before collapsing to your knees.

And as much as you needed to, you couldn’t cry. All you could do was pant in exhaustion, mentally and physically.

That was the moment he arrived. He was dressed in all black, his infamous bat symbol imprinted at the center of his suit. As you stared up at him, he stared back. Even through the cowl you could see the way his eyes had softened, a cold mask warming up at the sight of you.

Mere seconds later came his sidekick — complaining about his mentor — and then he saw you. There was a look of surprise, then a bit of concern. You were beaten, dirty, your clothes inappropriate for the cold (though he couldn’t say much without sounding like a hypocrite with his shorts).

What was most worrisome was your expression. You looked dead, completely done with life and uncaring if you live or die. Maybe that’s what made the both of them reach out to you.

Dick was still uncertain. Even so, he helped you adjust to the manor, bringing you a warm set of clothes the moment Alfred brought them out. He was even kind enough to sit by your bed as you rested, only leaving once he was sure you were sound asleep.

There were times you’d think about that night. You can’t say the same for him, perhaps he had long forgotten about it. It’s not like it was his job to remember. And besides, you weren’t his sibling nor were you Bruce’s kid, just a child he helped out.

Some years later he’d leave, stepping outside of Bruce’s shadow to form his identity outside of Robin. You were happy for him, but sad to see him leave for a different city. The night before he left, he held you tight, promising to visit, and read you a story like he had just a few years ago. He may have a negative relationship with Bruce, but he couldn’t find himself to project it onto you.

After he left Bruce brought in another child. It was the same time you began your training as a vigilante.

He was older than you by two years, another scrappy kid from the streets. Due to his past it was rather easy for you both to form some kind of bond. Apparently he tried to steal the tires from the batmobile only to get caught by Bruce.

You trained alongside each other, patrolled together with Batman, and formed a strong relationship. All was well, until just a year or two later.

Regret filled your body as Bruce held his; lifeless and bloody. Maybe you should have gone with him, should have followed him. If you were there your friend might have been saved.

Something nagged at you, screaming that you somehow took part in his death. You could only break down into the arms of Barbara (your mentor was mourning, you couldn’t burden him with your grief). She kept you in a motherly hold, rubbing your shoulders as she whispered that you were just a child, you shouldn’t bear responsibility for his death.

Even at that point in your life, you didn’t shed a tear. What you could do was shake and pant, struggling to breathe like oxygen was suffocating you.

You think that was when it began.

Bruce wouldn’t talk to anyone unless it was vigilante-related. He avoided leaving his study, only doing so to put on the suit. He became a ghost, or maybe he treated everyone as ghosts.

Neither you, Alfred, nor anyone else close to him, could gain his attention.

Patrolling with him was nothing but silent; he refused to ask you how you were, correct your stance, nothing. All he did was give orders and leave you to follow. Even as your body bled, limbs aching, he did nothing. He was too deep in a pool of his grief that you couldn’t swim to him.

Soon enough, he’d take your suit away from you. He thought it was unsafe, he couldn’t risk losing you too, he thought he was doing good. Your new job was behind the scenes, gathering intel and sitting in the batcave. At first you hated it, but then grew to enjoy it a bit more than your old job. Hell, in the daytime you’d go out (as a civilian) and sneakily investigate scenes to gather more information first hand.

It took no less than a year for there to be a new Robin. This time, it wasn’t the bat who took him in. No, that boy barged into your lives with full knowledge of who you all were, what you do, and despite the risks; he still joined.

He didn’t bother forming any personal bond with any of you at first. Tim was only focused on being Robin, helping Batman get back on his feet.

Although you were once part of the trio-now-duo, he paid no mind to you. As long as you were there to do the job, he didn’t care. He didn’t even bother to greet you properly.

It irritated you a bit, though you understood that he stood on business. You allowed him to act that way, and you reacted similarly. Present you can’t really blame your distant relationship, seeing as you played a part in keeping the distance. Though there were times you’d catch him staring at you, saving a seat for you beside him at the dinner table, simple things despite the lack of communication.

However if there was one thing that bugged you, it was the attention he got. From Alfred to Dick and Barbara, they were hyper focused on him. It continued on as more people joined the family, slowly pushing you out of the frame. They began knowing you as your ‘vigilante’ persona rather than as yourself.

They’d refuse to train with you, making excuses that you were experienced enough, didn’t need to given your job, and they needed to help the others. Bullshit — as the others grew they still spent more time with them than with you. It was your fault for allowing it, for beginning to silence yourself and stray away from them as they pushed you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt you one way or another.

The revival of Jason was something you had mixed feelings for. You thought he’d at least look at you when the rest didn’t, but like the 3rd Robin, he didn’t even spare you a glance. The only times he’d give you his attention was during your encounters while in the suits. Those times he’d make some comments, never a full sentence, but at the time it was good enough for you.

Now, at 20 years old, you were still nothing to them without the job. There were many times you wished to stop, but you couldn’t find it in you to do so. You loved what you did, loved stopping crime from the sidelines. Reasons were still unsure; you knew you should save people, but did you enjoy it? Perhaps you only liked beating those who hurt them, especially the elites who took advantage of the oppressed.

Your identity developed, changing names and hero identities like the other members. Yet as much as you did, nothing felt right, no new suit or name made you feel like yourself, and you didn’t know why.

It was past midnight, and you stood at the edge of a rather tall building. It was abandoned, in one of the emptier areas of the city, an old apartment building that had been labelled as inhabitable a year back.

While it’s been years since you’ve lived here, over a decade to be exact, it was still so familiar. You would visit the place often, ever since you found out there was no life inside. This was where your parents had died, the crack house they helped create despite the children living there. With such a shitty city as Gotham, it was no surprise that those below the upper class would find ways such as this to cope.

As you stare at the ground below, something egged at you to jump, to feel some form of freedom. You wanted to feel the air on your skin as you fell to death, a small taste of openness in a suffocating life before it ends.

But you knew that thought was stupid.

Even as you suffocated in your own home, you knew there was something you could do about it. There was something you had and would do.

“What’re you thinking about?”

[toudan]

The Hand That Feeds

“If being with me only brings you pain, then just put up with this for three more days.” Or, the stages you go through during those three days.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | spoilers for Caleb's story | angst, brief manipulation, drugging is briefly mentioned, implied toxic behaviour (per canon), medical issues (source: i made it up), mental instability, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of suicide and self-sabotage, splitting (reader has BPD), unreliable narrator. | ~6,8k words

A/N.⠀sooooooooo I've been playing Love and Deepspace..... the brainrot got so bad I've written over five thousand words in two days. this is a bit more of an exploration on the emotional/psychological end, so I'm sorry about the lack of romance!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

1. DENIAL

Caleb never breaks his promises.

It’s been that way since you were little kids. In thunderstorms, he promised to keep you safe, and he did. On gloomy days, he promised to be your light, and he did. In the rain, he promised to shield you, and he did. He never lies. He always picks up the phone. He never misses any important dates. He always catches you and never lets you fall. That was the Caleb you knew years ago.

Now, he’s much more different than the scrappy young boy with missing teeth and plasters on his skin that he used to be. This Caleb is tall, imposing, domineering. His uniform puts emphasis on his coldness. He is the embodiment of power, but just like he promised you when you were ten, he’d use his power to protect you. You’d trust him with your life, because deep down, you know that he won’t make you regret it.

You’re more than capable of protecting yourself. Years of training at the academy and another handful of years as a hunter has shaped you to be your own defence. Calluses and scars litter your skin, painting them with texture and molding you into a unique sculpture. With each year that passes, you grow out of the same scared little girl you used to be, but you can never get rid of fear completely. Loud noises still send you jumping out of your skin. You still fear death no matter how familiar it’s become. You worry about growing old and fading out of existence, leaving behind vulnerable people who’ll lose you for good.

The past years have not been kind. Fate has put you in all sorts of situations to test your might and willpower, forcing you to be the fearless woman you were meant to be. You’ve passed turbulent times, cried alone as your mind tells you you’re going insane. You’ve stayed at home for days, hiding away from the rest of the world as you contemplate your self-worth and utility. It drains you, bleeds you dry, but for you, there is no time to rest. Life goes on. You must always keep moving no matter how wounded you become.

With Caleb, it doesn’t feel like it has to be that way.

He’s always taken care of you very well, making sure you get enough rest and remember to eat no matter how stressed you become, but things aren’t the same. You’ve grown and so has he. And yet, he’s still the very same boy you grew up with—one who cares for you, one who loves you for you, and one who’ll always have your back. You’re not familiar with giving yourself a break, having been living in a routine of discipline for over a decade of your life, but you find that it’s a nice change. It’s the instrumental break of a song, it’s the beach on a sunny day. It’s gentle breezes caressing your skin and it’s layers of padlocks broken, letting you out of the cage you’ve built for yourself.

For once, you can let yourself relax and be taken care of the way you’ve always been. But as the storm rages on, it all comes crashing down, and you find yourself falling apart.

The anxiety that had come with your initial arrival at Skyhaven never left. It simmers at the pit of your stomach, creeps into your veins and wraps its tendrils around you, dragging you into a cold abyss of apprehension and fear. Being away from Linkon City isn’t doing you any favours. You don’t know anyone here aside from Caleb. There isn’t a place to go or people to talk to. The likelihood of you being in danger is low, but it’s not impossible, and the storm outside does nothing to help your current state. The power has gone out, leaving you in a wide, dark and empty complex where the only illumination comes from the lights on the skyline. 

The recent events are still heavy on your mind, too. Of him tending to the gash on your leg, of him restraining you with his Evol. You don’t think you’ve been that scared since that day in the interrogation room. You remember it vividly: the dimness of that room, the collar he’d placed upon your neck, or the tension in the air while you struggled to get yourself back to reality. It felt like you were in a dream. But then the lights came on and he spoke, and he was no longer the Farspace Fleet Colonel—he was your Caleb.

Your nails have become brittle from how much you’ve been biting on them. You’ve been pacing around the place, trying to call him time and time again only to get no response. With a frustrated sob, you toss your phone onto the sofa and collapse to your knees, tears streaming down your face in rivulets. As much as you’d like to believe that you aren’t afraid of thunder anymore, tonight proves it all wrong.

All you can hear is the downpour outside. It muffles the sound of the clock ticking, yet it doesn’t tune out the worried voices in your head. It’s nearing midnight—way past your bedtime—but you can’t sleep, not even with the potential ambience of the rain. Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Though Caleb usually comes home while you’re asleep, being wide awake now also means you’re too aware—aware that he isn’t home, aware that he’s in danger, aware that he might not ever come home at all. Your phone is nearly dead and the candles have long since gone out. You’re trembling both from fear and frost, his sweater loosely hanging on your frame.

The words ‘lockdown’ and ‘cleanup’ grow more and more distant as the irrational thoughts strengthen in numbers. They say he’s doing this on purpose, that he’s abandoning you for good because of you, that he’s keeping so many things hidden from you because he wants you out of his life. You want to believe they aren’t true, you really do, but your fragility makes you waver in every decision. The urge for violence grows but you do your best to keep yourself grounded, rocking yourself back and forth as your body is wracked by sobs. It’s easier said than done. You don’t know how you can stay afloat when you feel so alone.

Cruel. He’s cruel for leaving you alone for this long. He’s cruel for not responding to you. If he truly cared for you, he wouldn’t make you feel this way. Fear blends into anger as your hands twitch and quiver while you heavily breathe in and out as an attempt to calm down. He promised you this morning that he’ll come home. You just need to trust him. But you’re so scared of everything, feeling like the world is caving in around you as you fall deeper and deeper into the void. The dark makes you feel isolated, suffocated. Briefly, you think of how no one will hear you if you scream in this weather. Not even he can save you. Maybe that’ll be the first and last time he breaks his promise.

You shake your head. You know better than to trust your emotions when the sky gets dark. This will pass, it always does, and Caleb would want you to be strong. With newfound determination, you harshly wipe away your tears with the back of your hand and get up. Your legs slightly wobble from the ache in your knees, but you keep upright. As if sensing your predicament, the rain outside slows down and becomes quieter with each second. The thunder has stopped roaring and the downpour slows to a light shower, its droplets hitting the clear glass of the window panes.

Then, the front door opens. A scream threatens to escape your throat. The emergency lights in the hallway outside show a male silhouette at the door, and when you realise who it is, the grave weight on your shoulders is lifted. Relieved, you run into him, making him stumble for a moment before supporting you more steadily. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry, quiet whines leaving you. He pulls you close and rubs soothing circles on your back before murmuring a quiet I’m home into your ear.

How could you doubt him like that? Caleb is kind. He’s the best thing to ever happen to you. He never breaks his promises. Whatever anger you harboured for him earlier dissipates into the air just like fog. Still shaken from the blackout and his radio silence, you grab him tightly, the fabric of his coat bunching up in your unrelenting grip. You don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight. You were doing perfectly fine before the storm. You’re mentally berating yourself for letting him see you in such a pathetic state, but you’re too drained and it’s too late to try to hide.

(You’ve never been able to do that with him.)

“I thought you left me,” you whimper, “I—I don’t feel good. I don’t know. I was scared.”

You cling to him like a child. You feel like one, with how weak and emotional and volatile you feel. The sobs slow down into sniffles as he carries you over to your bedroom before taking a seat on the bed and placing you on his lap. His gloved hands comfortingly caress you wherever they can. Guilt sinks into his bones, pulling him deeper than his gravity ever could. The explosion had been out of his control, so had his death, but he can’t ever forgive himself for making you feel like you’d been left behind.

An ugly emotion rears its head, holds him in its jaws. He wraps his arms around you possessively, allowing you to calm down at your pace. You let out a heavy sigh and fall into him, feeling boneless after the meltdown you were in earlier. There are many things you want to say, but none ever slip your tongue. Instead, you let him hold you, let him press soft kisses to your hair, enveloping you in the warmth you had been craving.

“I told you I’d always be by your side,” he finally speaks up after a moment of silence, squeezing your flesh warmly. “I promised you that, remember?”

You don’t make a sound. You shift closer to him, desperate to be closer, close enough to feel like you’ve fused into one. He doesn’t force you to speak. You look up at him, tear-stained cheeks glimmering under the moonlight, helpless and afraid yet so loving and elated. He shushes you softly, lulling you into a relaxed state as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs before cupping the side of your face affectionately. 

I’ll always be by your side.

How silly and humiliating of you to have been vulnerable like that. Caleb would never lie to you. He’s right, he always is, and you need to learn to fully trust him again. He never breaks his promises. He won’t start now.

2. ANGER

It started with an excruciating pain in your heart.

Then, it continued with pins and needles striking your limbs, making them feel boneless. Your view blurred and darkened at the sides as static took over your vision, showing you mirrors and streaks of light. Your throat closed up and you clutched at it helplessly, jaw dropping open as you tried to breathe. The world spun and suddenly you collapsed on the ground, motionless and afraid. Waves of panic crashed into you, drenching you in trepidation while your thoughts ran rampant, stacking on top of each other like voices in a crowd.

You hardly registered the muffled shouts and your body being moved as you fell limp. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were falling into coldness—into death—but when you woke up, you found yourself in the medical bay of the Fleet’s aircraft. 

The pain in your heart had subsided enough. It still ached and burned, but clarity had returned to your eyes and your limbs no longer felt numb. Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, and it was only then that you heard muted conversations, presumably from those who were taking care of you. You tried to push yourself up, only to be pulled back by something. When you looked down, you found all sorts of cables attached to you and an EKG monitor on your side. Your heart rate was fast and your blood pressure was high. Caleb had come into the medical bay not long after that.

After dismissing the nurses, he’d taken you to his home and decided he’d take care of you himself. Though you weren’t keen on essentially being on house arrest, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if you doubted him sometimes, you knew in your heart that he would never lead you astray. But the way he’s been treating you like a child irks and suffocates you, making you feel like you’re locked in a cramped room.

He talks to you softly and treats you like you’re fragile. You’re several years into your career as a hunter. You’re well in your twenties and more than capable of taking care of yourself or tending to your wounds. As much as you appreciate his concern, it’s starting to feel suffocating. Maybe years of depending on him have made him think you’re useless. He won’t trust you, but he still holds many secrets of his own.

The only conclusion you come to is that he’s hiding something from you, or he’s hiding you.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. How can someone so familiar feel so distant at the same time? You can’t understand his logic or tell what he’s thinking. He always has an explanation for everything, and yet, they never satisfy you at all. The weariness in your system coupled with days of being under quarantine is taking a toll on you. He’d insisted persistently that you stay put while he takes care of everything. It’s not as if it’s his fault, either. No matter how much you want to get back to work—thinking about the backlog you’re going to have to catch up to puts insurmountable anxiety upon your shoulders—you can’t, because your body isn’t cooperating.

It’s not a fever. It’s not a cold. But somehow, you always feel so out of it. It doesn’t even feel like you’re piloting yourself anymore. Suspicion rises in the back of your mind as you think of the medication you’ve been taking every morning. He never told you what they are. What if he’s—

No. He wouldn’t. Caleb isn’t like that.

But what if? You don’t understand him. You don’t know him anymore. Why is he hellbent on keeping you locked up here when you’re already capable of handling things on your own? Burying your face in your hands, you let out a scream of exasperation, feeling as though you’re losing your mind. Why won’t he listen to you? Do you mean anything to him at all?

The door knob twists. You swiftly relax your furrowed brows and turn to him with a small smile as he enters your room. The sun is barely rising, but he already looks wide awake. You can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously at the small cup of pills that he’s holding.

The question slips past your tongue before you realise it. “What have you been giving me?”

Caleb stops in his tracks, brows raised in surprise. Something flickers in his eyes, but the calm expression remains on his features. He moves closer and places what he’s holding on the table, only to pause in his movements again.

“You didn’t finish dinner?”

“Caleb. What have you been giving me?” you ask again, your hands beginning to tremble. Your thoughts are running rapidly, alarms of urgency ringing in your head and adding on to your anxiety. You need answers. You need to know everything.

He takes a seat on the stool next to your bed with a sigh. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me, pipsqueak.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” You clench your fists, knuckles turning white from the pressure you’re exerting. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“You had a protocore-induced heart attack. Your body is still recovering,” he replies easily. You can’t tell if he’s lying or telling the truth. “And Skyhaven’s still under lockdown. It’s not safe for you to be out.”

“Do you think of me that lowly?” Aggravation drips off of your tone as your voice starts to waver, a familiar sting spreading behind your nose and tears springing up to your eyes. “Do you think I’m still a little kid?”

“It’s not that. I’m just worried about you.”

Your voice rises in volume. It’s getting harder to keep your anger in control. 

“If Skyhaven’s so dangerous, why won’t you let me go back?”

“Because you can’t. No one goes in or goes out during this lockdown. I’m sorry,” he says. It’s quick and meant to shoot you down. You want to scream, to break something, anything, but you can’t. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m protecting you.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, irritated at his responses. There’s no point in arguing with him, you realise. Caleb’s stubbornness knows no bounds at times. You take your hand back and look away with an indignant huff. You know you’re acting like a child. Grandma would be disappointed if she saw your state now. But you’re frustrated, you’re anxious, you’re alone and you just want to go home—

“Leave. I don’t wanna see you,” you spit, stubbornly staring at the window. Then, an unknown fear seeps into your veins, causing you to soften just the slightest. “I don’t want us to fight, Caleb.”

“We’re not fighting.” He crouches down in front of you and takes your hand into his before giving it a warm squeeze. “But you have to try and understand me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to see his face, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want anything to do with him. Ignoring him, you get up the chair and return to your room, closing the door behind you with a loud slam. The sound makes you flinch. Unwanted memories slowly fade into the reel of your mind. Aggravated, you lock the door and sit down, pulling your knees close to your chest as your jaw clenches.

You don’t know what you want. A part of you wants him to come in and apologise, to let you do what you want. Another part of you wants him to just leave you alone. But when there’s only silence, you find yourself breaking into sobs again, feeling like you’ve been abandoned. He’s mad at you. He’s going to make you leave and say that he’s just giving you what you wanted. Guilt creeps into your heart as the realisation that you’re doubting him dawns on you. He’s been so kind to you since the little stunt you pulled to get yourself here. He’s letting you walk freely. He’s letting you stay in his home. 

But he’s not listening to you, he’s ignoring you, and it makes you feel as though you’re just a speck of dust in his eyes. Your emotions rage as a tempest in your mind that destroys everything in its wake. A scream of exasperation leaves your lips as you hold your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. 

I’ll always be by your side.

What a liar. 

3. BARGAINING

It feels as though the sands of time are allowing the particles to fall one at a time into the bottom of the hourglass.

Time is moving slowly, almost as if it’s stuck in place, and hearing the sound of the clock ticking every time you’re ‘home’ is starting to drive you mad. It’s hard not to zero in on Caleb when he is all you have here. You’ve contemplated sending Tara and Zayne some messages to let them know that you’re fine, just staying with a friend. For some odd reason, the messages never get delivered. Assuming your phone’s just broken, you haven’t picked it up since. As a result, there’s not much to do in your free time outside of chores or breaking down, and it’s tearing you apart.

Maybe he’ll rethink his choices if you get hurt on purpose, you think with a bitter grimace. It’s hard to believe that his consideration for you, something you used to adore, now felt like chains holding you down. He might as well have left the collar on your neck. Anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. Your mind has become a tempest of despondence and pessimism destroying every rational thought in its path. You want to scream and punch the wall. You want to hurt something. You need to destroy something. Your self-control is hanging by a thread and the stubbornness is beginning to feel childish, silly. 

Regrettably, Caleb is right. The Farspace Fleet is still working on cleanup amid this lockdown, not allowing anyone to go in or out. Leaving Skyhaven isn’t an option anymore. You don’t know what you feel anymore, either. You’re stuck here with a curfew whether you like it or not, and your unfamiliarity with the place leaves you at a severe disadvantage. Though you’re not exactly a drinker, your mind wanders to how you’d feel if you were too drunk to think of anything. You don’t care. You don’t know what you want anymore.

Some days, you feel angry at him and think he’s the devil. Some days, you appreciate him and think he’s a gift sent by the heavens. The lack of a middle ground constantly leaves you teetering on the verge of falling on either end. But now—now you feel nothing at all. You’re numb, indifferent, and it perplexes you because you still feel so bad. You think you’re a walking contradiction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Caleb has dealt with you for years without a single word of complaint. You’re taking him for granted, says the voice in your head. You need to keep him.

You harshly slap yourself on the face to snap out of it, bringing yourself back to the present.

The skyline glimmers in the distance. Red and white lights speed by on the road and the billboards are as lively as ever. Nightlife enjoyers are undoubtedly in good spirits as they travel from bar to bar. Tara must still be awake watching her favourite show, and Zayne is surely still working late at the hospital. You want to hear their voices and be in their presence even if it’s just for a few minutes. There’s a weight pulling at your heart as your mind wanders to Linkon City. To your real home.

The walls of what you thought was a gorgeous home is starting to remind you of the interrogation room you were in. It feels drab, lifeless. There isn’t much evidence within the home itself that there are people living here in the first place. The little OTTO robot he built for you stays in the corner, lifeless as well. You absentmindedly tap your fingers against the surface of the couch as you stare into the glow of the television. Even the commercials that are meant to be fun and exciting feel fake. The programme continues, returning to the scheduled film of the night. 

It’s late at night and you can’t sleep. You’re up later than you’d usually be. Caleb isn’t home yet, rendering you beyond aware of the fact that you’re home alone, and anxiety lurks around you at every corner. Your pistols rest on the spot beside you as a precaution. With what has been transpiring since you stepped foot in Skyhaven, anything is possible. It’s strange how paranoid you’ve become over the past couple of days. You should feel safe here, you should feel safe with him being the Colonel himself, but you don’t.

“—concerned about you. He said he thinks you might try to kill yourself.”

Your gaze drifts over to the pistols. An image of your blood pooling beneath your head as you lie limp on the ground flashes before your eyes. You imagine how he’d react to your death. Will he care? Will it devastate him? Will he regret how he’s been treating you? Strangely enough, the gruesome thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to when you were younger. Violence comes with your job as a hunter, even if it’s not inflicted upon humans. Death is no stranger. It’s more familiar than you’d like it to be. You’ve been lured by it a couple of times in your childhood, seen mangled bodies and frozen corpses in your lifetime. 

You’ve gone from craving death to being afraid of it, and yet here you are, contemplating it just like you did when you were fifteen.

Tara used to tell you not to believe your thoughts when it’s dark. You desperately want to, but it feels as though your brain won’t allow it. You’re tired and lonely. You miss home. You grieve for a man that is still alive. A long time has passed—people are constantly changing. He’s not the same man you were eating dinner with at Gran’s house. This is a man who has been through death himself, weighed down by his never-ending burdens and responsibilities, and you sink deeper into your guilt as you realise how unreasonable you’ve been.

You try to separate every thought again. Caleb is protective of you because he’s known you for most of his life and you’re the closest person to him. He put you under strict supervision because he’s worried you’ll be in danger without him to protect you. He treated you like a child, making you feel as though he doesn’t trust you. Your outburst halted everything and is slowly destroying your relationship inside and out. It all feels so monumental, so much bigger than you can handle, and you can’t help but feel defeated.

You have two options: continue this game of who can make the silent treatment last longer, or apologise to him and gain his forgiveness. It eats away at you either way. With apologising, you don’t even know where to begin; he’s never been mad at you nor has he ever raised his voice at you. He always tells you that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

It’ll pass, is what he would say to you. And I’ll be here with you.

But when you have already destroyed everything with your bare hands, who will be there to rebuild it with you?

You haven’t prayed to a god in years. Prayers and rituals don’t work on you, you think, and so it’s not worth the time or effort. But as your eyes slowly close, you pray to whatever celestial being listens to you—give him back. You’ll never do it again.

4. DEPRESSION

Another day of silence passes and plunges you further into the pool of fear and helplessness.

Caleb hasn’t spoken a word to you. Not once. He still prepares your meals, leaves you notes, but he doesn’t utter a single word. You grow more restless by the minute. He’s angry with you. He’s just too nice to tell you upfront. Anxiety makes you avoid him, afraid of what he’ll do or how he’ll react. He doesn’t stop you from going out anymore, either. You’ve been spending your time outside his home, distracting yourself with whatever activity you can find on the streets. For the first few hours, the newfound freedom made you feel on top of the world, but it didn’t last.

Him stepping back should make you feel happy and relieved. Instead, the claws of despair pull you in closer and closer to its maw. You return home after a day out to complete silence. The floorboards would creak beneath your feet, waiting for someone to break the stillness, only for there to be nothing. When you wake up in the morning, Caleb leaves behind nothing but the remnants of his cologne in the air, small proof that he was home. The smell used to comfort you. Now, it makes you feel lonelier, because it’s not enough.

It feels like you’re losing him in real time. You’ve retreated so far into the corner that you’re fading into the background as the world continues on without you. You see him walking farther and farther away from you, disappearing into the crowd as he leaves you standing in the midst of it all. The thought of him leaving your life gnaws at you, puts you into a spiral of loneliness. You wanted this, didn’t you? For him to leave you alone?

Then why do you feel like you’ve been abandoned?

The stark reminder of his absence claws at your heart. You barely see him at home and it feels like you’re lost at sea, drifting away from the shore with each wave that the ocean carries. Getting out of bed feels like a monumental task. Your limbs feel heavy as if you’re being held back by a ball and chain. And you’re exhausted, even with the hours upon hours of sleeping and locking yourself away in your room, too tired to live. A part of you tells you you’re overreacting. You don’t even remember what had upset you in the first place, but you know one thing—

You don’t want him to go.

Being an adult comes with doing things you don’t want to do or are too afraid to do. This is just one of them. You’ll apologise to him with low expectations so you don’t break your heart, but you’ll fall into euphoria if he forgives you. He’s looking out for you. It’s not his fault. 

It’s yours.

You remember times in your childhood when he’d come get you after school with your favourite popsicle split in half, one for you and one for him. He’d ask about your day and his eyes twinkled with genuine interest as he listened to you go on and on about every detail that happened. The walk back home was always filled with joy. He feels like a distant memory, an echo of the past, and you wonder if he’s the one who changed or if it’s you.

Whoever it is, what was an unbreakable bond had shattered to pieces, and it was all by your own hand.

Self-hatred burns through you. You wish you were different. You wish you weren’t the way you are, so flawed and broken beyond repair. You wish you were like other women, those who are always on top of their game and strong no matter what life throws at them. Without realising it, you’ve already given up on yourself. You’re no longer loved by him; you’re an enemy, a monster, and the thought plagues your being.

The feeling of unworthiness lingers in your chest, a constant ache that wears down the edges of every thought. You remember the person you used to be with him before the explosion. Optimistic, hard-working, hopeful. She feels like a stranger now, like someone you used to know who left your life without saying anything. The weight of it all—the distance, the guilt, the silence—is becoming unbearable. He is slipping out of your grasp, ready to leave you as a memory of the past, and you’re falling further back. He is swimming to the surface while you are sinking deeper into vast nothingness, surrounded by the unknown. 

You wonder what he feels when he looks back at you. Is it pity, or is it resentment?

Or does he hardly feel anything at all?

The door opens, stopping your train of thought. You stagger up to your feet, quietly making your way to the entrance with your hands folded in front of you. Caleb’s eyes meet yours and you falter for a moment, every word you’ve rehearsed in your head going forgotten as time seems to be at a standstill. You muster up a smile, doing a little wave at him.

“Welcome home,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks.”

You want to say something, anything, but no words come out; you don’t know where to begin with them. Instead, you stand there and smile awkwardly, completely lost and insecure. Your smile feels fake. You know he knows it is. It’s a façade you’re using to hide the turbulence within you. Caleb’s smile is polite and you want to run into his arms and tell him everything you’ve been feeling. Your heart drops when he looks away from you, ready to leave to attend to his own affairs.

“I’ll just, um, go,” you chuckle nervously. “Sorry, you must be busy. I’ll see you around.” 

Reluctantly, you withdraw and return to your room, shutting the door with a quiet click. Drained, you fall to the ground and bury your face in your hands, frustration oozing off of you in waves. Was that a good sign? Or was he faking his friendliness just to get you off his back? He doesn’t seem angry, but you’ve also never seen him angry. Anxiety harrows you as you stare at the ground, mind racing with what feels like thousands of possibilities. You wish he was easier to read. How can you know someone for so long but know nothing about them at all?

You ball your hands into fists and tremble, tears streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re falling behind. He’s already on the path to moving on but you’re still stuck in your spot, hopelessly wishing he’d turn back and ask if you want to try again. This fight—the one with him, the one with yourself—feels daunting. You’re but a frail little thing facing off with something grand and monumental. It towers over you, cloaks you in its shadow, emphasising the fact that you are nothing compared to it.

The world is quiet, and as you sit gazing upon your opponent, you start to wonder if this fight was even yours to win at all.

5. ACCEPTANCE

Before you know it, it’s the night before the promised third day.

You were lucky enough to be able to have breakfast with Caleb this morning. It felt tense and awkward, but he still maintained the conversation so effortlessly as if your outburst never happened at all. He left for work with a simple kind smile and told you to stay safe if you do go out. Even while you’re being unreasonable, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum is lasting this long humiliates you to no end.

You spent the day out at the shopping district. The city was vibrant with the hustle and bustle in its streets and pedestrians. You heard laughter and chatter, joy that was spreading among people and their friends, and you’d never felt more alone. Even in a place swimming with people, you still felt so isolated like you were just a speck of dust. Eventually, your surroundings became white noise, and time went by like a blur. It felt as if someone else was taking control over your body. You numbly went through each stall searching for souvenirs to bring back to your loved ones back in Linkon City, spending away without hesitation. 

When the sun began its descent, you made your way back with several bags of new items in hand. You’d gone over budget, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For a moment, you were completely fine, free from the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders. Returning to Caleb’s place took away the momentary lightheartedness and replaced it with something devastatingly hollow. You moved on autopilot, stepping into the shower and taking off your makeup, changing into more comfortable clothes. 

When you were done, you sat in the living room and watched whatever was playing on the television, its audio turning into background noise as you drifted away with your musings. Before you knew it, it was dark outside, and Caleb was back home. You parted your lips to say welcome back, but he had entered his room before you could call for him. Awkwardly, you returned to the television and fidgeted with your hands, nervousness entering your system the longer he was gone.

It seems to be a peaceful time for Skyhaven tonight. The media representative of the Farspace Fleet had come out to answer whatever rapid fire question the journalists had. Reassuring every citizen, he had said that the cleanup they’ve been doing is gradually wrapping up, and that the lockdown would be lifted soon. With nothing else to worry about for the time being, officers were allowed to return home early, including the Colonel himself. 

Caleb reappears in his loungewear and stops to look at you, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t take long before he returns to the living room again, heading for the other end of the couch. Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him to his devices and stare ahead into the television, holding yourself back from looking at him repeatedly. It’s unusual for him to be home early, so you’re equally lost, completely clueless on how to function.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s reading a book, his brows furrowed in concentration as he immerses himself in creativity. He looks peaceful, so undisturbed, and you’re still not sure what to do. Even when you’ve been a brat, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum has lasted for days humiliates you to no end. His consideration of you nearly brings tears to your eyes but you keep yourself together, not wanting to worry him.

You part your lips to speak only to close them again, frantically trying to come up with a coherent sentence in your head. He looks relaxed, so the chances of him reacting aggressively are low. You know he’d never raise his voice at you, but the paranoia hasn’t left you yet; everything you do needs a safety plan. Biting down on your bottom lip, you stare down at your hands before standing up, nervously wringing your hands behind your back.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you speak up, meekly, “I’m sorry.”

He looks up from his book, brows raised as he watches you in what appears to be confusion. You want to run away and hide, but he deserves this. It’s the least you can do.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for lashing out. For acting up. It’s just… I’m just…”

He smiles softly, getting up from the couch and walking towards you. Bringing you close for a hug, he presses a soft kiss to your temple and squeezes your frame reassuringly. You melt into his touch, a burning sensation spreading in the centre of your face as your bottom lip quivers. You whine and hide your face in his sweater, desperately holding on to him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve already lost him once. You won’t lose him again.

You can’t.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice trembles as you speak and sniffle in between words. You grab onto the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I didn’t mean it. I won’t do it again—”

He sighs, content, and pulls you closer to him, letting you cry in his arms. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he hums a comforting tune, the same one he used to when you had nightmares as a kid.

“Silly girl,” he says, rocking you side to side. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

No one else will ever do it like him. He’s kind. He cares for you. He stays with you even with your volatility and your flaws. The resentment you’d been harbouring towards him douses you in guilt as you latch on to him, basking in his comfort. He’s only doing this because he cares. The disaster in your mind slowly unwinds and the grating voices that had been plaguing you the past week quiets down. 

He gently pulls away and brings his hands up to your cheeks before brushing away your tears with his thumbs, lulling you into a calmer state.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “I promise.”

Finally, you trust him, because he never makes promises he can’t keep.

[wandaspup]

his loss

– pairing | wanda x kid/daughter reader

– synopsis | you're wandas kid/daughter from a previous relationship. today you can't help but wonder why you weren't enough for your father to stay. mama wanda comes to the rescue.

– warnings | depression, self harm (nothing too graphic), blood, hateful thoughts, fluff

– word count | 855

– you're not alone. if you ever need to talk, my dm's and asks are open. you're more than enough.

You know those days where you feel really good, life is great and you’re on top of the world and then suddenly it hits you that it was too good to be true and everything falls apart? This is how you’re feeling these past few weeks. Depression consumes your entire being, it hits when you least expect it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You have been clean for 11 months. You had ups and downs but you stayed strong for the sake of your mom. She’s your best friend and your everything. She found out you were hurting yourself when you were only 13. She was devastated but after a lot of talk, you both decided it was best for you to go to therapy, and you have been going ever since.

Tonight your mom was out doing grocery shopping, meaning you were alone in the house just waiting for her to come back. You looked at the calendar and noticed that today, a few years back, you had seen your father for the last time. You were little, you could barely remember him at all, but deep inside you missed him, you longed for a connection with him. It hurt when you saw other kids growing up with their dads around, you wished you were in their place. Not that you didn’t love your mom, it’s the complete opposite; you just couldn’t understand why you still felt this way towards him after so many years.

You were starting to feel a little anxious, thinking why he left you. Did he ever want you? Weren’t you good enough for him? Were you a mistake? Every bad thought that could possibly exist was running through your head. You needed a relief. You knew your mom would get mad but that’s the least of your worries right now.

You went to the bathroom and started looking for the little hidden place where you keep your blade. You didn’t care about the pain or the mess you were doing; you just wanted relief. The physical pain couldn’t even compare to the mental turmoil you experience every day.

It was like time stopped. You heard a knock on your door, pulling you out of your trance and making you panic. You didn’t have the energy to even try and clean everything up, you just stayed on the floor, waiting for your mom to find you in that state. “I’m in the bathroom, mama!” You yelled, hoping she would hear it, you didn’t want to delay the inevitable.

Wanda enters the bathroom and her smile fades, you can see the tears in her eyes making you feel worse than you already are. “I-I’m sorry mama. I t-tried, I really did.” You started sobbing and Wanda didn’t hesitate to run to your aid. “Shh, I know baby. I know, it’s okay.” She whispers while pulling you into her lap, cradling you like a baby. She was talking but you were too focused on the way she was brushing your hair and the way she was rubbing your back in a soothing manner to even pay attention to the words coming out of her mouth.

“Y-You’re not mad?” You asked, you were sure she was. “Of course not, my love. You are so strong. I know you tried and that’s all that matters. Healing isn’t linear and that’s okay. We all have our days and I know how today affects you, I should have been more attentive. I’m sorry that I was gone for too long.” She kisses the top of your head and squeezes you lovingly.

“You can always count on me, okay? I want you to know that you have a friend in me. I’m your mother and your best friend for life.” She cups your face and rubs your cheeks softly. “I’m so proud of you, baby. Relapsing is part of the process of recovery, and you will have these kinds of days, but the important thing is that you understand that you’re not alone, alright? You’re the best person I have ever known my entire life. I know that you miss him, but he doesn’t deserve you at all. It’s his loss, not yours.”

You smile amidst tears, you genuinely couldn’t have asked for a better mother. She knows you inside and out and she really is your best friend. “T-Thank you mama. You really are the best mother in the world.” Wanda couldn’t help but smile as well, scrunching her nose and rubbing it on yours. “You are my everything, my sweet girl. Now, how about I help you clean yourself up, change into pj’s and maybe order some pizza to watch a movie?” You nod, just wanting to be near your mother.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I will always do my best to protect you and make sure that you’re safe and okay. I’m so proud of being your mom, you have no idea. We are together in this, alright? Always and forever.” She says while lifting her pinky finger up, smiling.

You smile back and link your finger with hers, mumbling. “Always and forever, mom.”

[ravenwalkerx]

hi! can we get a general hc for the ghosts? thank you in advance ☕

Call Of Duty "Ghosts" headcanons

• David "Hesh" Walker

- big family man, i'm talking will do anything and everything just to make sure his family is safe and happy.

- adding on to that, he's a huge people pleaser - tends to put everyone elses needs before his own.

- protective over the people he loves. yes the motto of The Ghosts is to not leave their own behind, but his protectiveness over his team/friends/family goes beyond formality.

- he was absolutely reckless as a kid, climbed and jumped off of every surface he could reach resulting in Elias damn near having multiple heart attacks.

- definitely a dog person. he doesn't mind cats but loves Riley with his whole heart (i also can't imagine him with a cat).

- him and Logan were attached at the hip growing up, so his love for his brother grew into attachment issues, especially after the ODIN attack.

- whenever something happens and he had a chance to stop it but didn't, he beats himself up mentally for days after.

- feels a lot, even too much sometimes, but doesn't show it so as not to worry the people around him.

- hates being alone. he's so used to being around his family and team that the silence of being alone for a longer period of time just makes him feel uneasy.

- he's not really scared of anything but his biggest fear is losing the people close to him, especially due to the war.

• Keegan P. Russ

- has the driest humor that will either make you laugh or question all your life choices. he's not rude just insanely sarcastic.

- he was interested in weapons and the military when he was a teenager, so part of the reason he enlisted was to learn how to work with them.

- closed off and introverted, not due to any sort of trauma but because he believes that good things come to people who don't overshare their thoughts and feelings.

- unlike Hesh, he prefers being alone because noise and chatter isn't his kind of environment, and spending so much time with the team gives him very little time to himself.

- has a freakishly good memory. this man will remember something someone said to him 10 years ago even if it's completely irrelevant, making him a good asset to The Ghosts cause he remembers things about people most would see as not important.

- another part of why he enlisted in the military - apart from wanting to learn more about weapons and strategy - is because due to his quiet nature he was always disregarded, so a small part of why he enlisted so young is to prove himself as capable.

- pushes himself to his limits and simply doesn't know how to stop, doesn't know when it's enough. sometimes it leads to being so burnt out he can't function properly.

- hates feeling useless, hates feeling like he can't help. he has to be able to do something, he has to be good at something, otherwise the guilt eats him alive even if he doesn't show it.

- goes into full killer mode when someone he cares about is in danger, Ajax for example. when he was taken by The Federadion, before they found him, he killed that Fed out of pure anger.

- blamed himself for months after Ajax's death. for not getting there on time, for not being able to do anything but hold him as he died in Keegans arms. eventually got over it, but it still comes back to him occasionally.

• Logan Walker

- tries to be like Hesh in every aspect, so when he was little he would follow him around and do all the reckless stuff that his brother did.

- was never the most social but also prefers it that way, he prefers solitude over having 10 people around him at all times.

- isn't much of a talker, but will talk to his brother on occasions because he feels safe around him. same with Elias, he talks to people he feels safe with.

- even though he's technically Hesh's dog, Logan absolutely adores Riley. when they first got him, Logan took it upon himself to train Riley and they became inseperable shortly after.

- really likes the beach. he used to go to the beach often before ODIN, just to have some time to himself, and he grew attached to it.

- took the loss of their mother really hard. some days, he can't even look at himself in the mirror because he reminds himself of her.

- often thinks about how life could have been if it wasn't for the Federation taking everything away. he couldn't imagine himself anywhere other than where he is right now, but he thinks about what he would do if he werent a soldier.

- loves Hesh, but when he was younger he felt like he was constantly in his brothers shadow. he eventually grew up and out of it, but it messed with his head.

- he doesn't express it, but he feels the most out of everyone on the team. he's always been that way - feeling strong feelings but always bottling it up cause he didn't feel like they were important.

- always puts everyone before himself. he doesn't care what happens to him as long as everyone else is safe and okay. it's one of his best traits, but he also sometimes wishes he could put himself first.

• Thomas A. Merrick

- really dedicated to his job. he swore to himself that he would do his best and push himself to his limits as a soldier.

- he makes more dad jokes than an actual dad, but they're actually funny. yes, he's a serious man, but he thinks that even in the time of crisis there's gotta be something positive.

- he's determined by nature, never doing anything halfway. if a job needs to be done, it should be done fully and not half-assed.

- he strikes me as someone who plays loud music in a car, no matter if hes alone or not. doesn't matter which genre it is, he just has to have something to kill the silence.

- surprisingly good at cooking. you'd think that for someone who spends most of his time working, he wouldn't have time for other things, but he likes cooking in his free time.

- similar to Keegan, he pushes himself to his limits. the only difference is that he knows when to stop, but it still puts him out of it for a few days after a long mission.

- he has a hard time letting people in, probably due to how many comrades he lost. when the Walker boys first joined, it took him a while of working with them for them to grow on him.

- he's seen a lot. he's seen people die, people being tortured, he's lost some of the people closest to him during his time in the military. he still sees the images sometimes, even when it's peaceful.

- even though it takes him a while to let people in, when he finally does he gets mad at himself when something happens to the people he got close to.

- one of his bad traits is that he gets impatient often and acts on his impulses. when it feels like time is running out, he doesn't think before he acts and acts impulsively, which can sometimes be good but most of the time leads to chaos.

• Kick

- ever since he was young, he really liked technology. computers, gadgets, he was always interested in it and messing with something.

- stealthy as hell. yes, he's good with technology, but he could also be walking right behind you and you wouldn't hear a thing. he's so light on his feet.

- beside his interest in technology, he seems like a person who would be interested in weapons. not just shooting and stuff, he would open up a gun just to mess with the mechanism.

- always has everyone's back. he's a huge team player and if someone needs backup? he's there, no questions asked. insanely loyal.

- he's insanely smart. i'm talking, knows everything about everything. random facts about stars, animals, computers, people, you name it he knows it. this comes in really helpful when theres a crisis happening and he has to calm someone down.

- he tends to feel left out a lot. yes, he's a big help with intel and hacking into databases, but sometimes he feels useless in other aspects.

- constantly under stress. doesn't matter what he's doing, he's always thinking about a 100 other things and he can't focus on one thing at a time. this eats away at him often, even if he tries to ignore it.

- whenever he makes a mistake or something slips past him, he gets so in his head that he makes himself believe he's not capable of doing his job anymore. his mind is his worst enemy.

- he's always the happy, sociable one in big groups, but really he doesn't wanna be. he doesn't like being alone, but he also doesn't like having to be upbeat all the time when in reality his brain is constantly at conflict with itself.

- smoking is his guilty pleasure. he doesn't do it often, but when he does it's mostly to shut his mind up. either that, or he hits a punching bag until his mind and fists are numb.

• Elias T. "Scarecrow" Walker

- loves his sons more than anything. after losing his wife, he made sure to keep Hesh and Logan safe from anything and everything. they're the only thing he's got left in this world, the only ones he can trust. (iykyk)

- also really dedicated to his job. hell, he's dedicated to everything he does because he knows how easy it is to lose people. also a born leader through and through.

- takes Riley on walks to pass time. sometimes he needs to just unwind, and walks in the sun feel nice after all the chaos he's been through.

- likes telling stories about his wife. they make him feel better in hard times, like he didn't completely lose her.

- the tests that Hesh mentions he puts them through aren't because he doesn't trust them, but because he just wants to make sure they're ready for all the hardships life has for them.

- sometimes he feels guilty for letting go of Rorke. he said it himself, it's the hardest decision he's ever had to make.

- as well as Merrick, he's seen some things no one should see. the images still replay in his mind sometimes, but all he feels is anger at the injustice of some situations he's been in.

- as proud as he is of Logan and Hesh for following his footsteps, he's absolutely terrified of losing them, even if he doesn't show it. he can't lose them as well.

- he feels guilty for seeming biased sometimes, like he puts one son before the other, but its not that way.

- cracks jokes even when all hell breaks loose, but doesn't really know if he's trying to comfort everyone else or himself. he's so used to being a leader, the strong one, that he doesn't let himself admit he's scared too.

[azialways]

feel absolutely free to ignore if this subject is too tender, but could you write something with ronin seeing his partners self scars, something soft and comforting?

sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my first 😊

Heal with me

ronin x sh!recovering reader

cw: mentions of sh, scars, addiction, mental health struggles

YOUR MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS! PLEASE SEEK HELP IF YOURE STRUGGLING! DMS ARE ALWAYS OPEN <3

You were insecure about your scars. For the longest time you were, even when you were a teenager and you first took the blade to your skin, it felt wrong. You struggled as a teenager with depression and anxiety, and you used self harm as a coping mechanism, albeit not a good one, but you didn’t have anywhere else to go. Your story was nothing short of a tragedy, but that wasn’t important. At least, you didn’t think it was important until one night, you and Ronin got drunk and the two of you spilled your life’s secrets and struggles. Luckily he was so shitfaced he didn’t remember you bringing up your old self harm habits, but part of you felt bad for lying. The truth is, self harm was a part of who you were when you were younger; you were the cutter at school, your home life wasn’t great yet your parents still had the time to make fun of you for it. You didn’t have many friends at school or out, because news spreads like wildfire in small towns. Nobody wanted to be friends with the cutter and the suicidal kid, so you moved out as soon as humanly possible. You were addicted to drugs for a while, constantly reliant and needing, but since you quit, your life turned around quick.

You did the therapy, you did the psych ward stays, and now here you are. You made it past your 18th birthday, and then your 21st, and now here you are, still alive past it. And you were happy you were, because you were in love with this man who was actually a serial killer. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you first joined the server, but you chose to stay, and then you fell in love. Sure, he was a serial killer, but he was mostly killing people that deserved it, so you could get behind it. You and Ronin weren’t the most intimate couple, because you were always so anxious about him seeing your scars. You feared his disapproval, his love dying because of your history with issues. You didn’t want him thinking you were going to be a problem, especially when you finally recovered. People had left you for much less, and you didn’t need him leaving too.

You always felt there was a big elephant in the room whenever you didn’t have a coat on, and it broke so many friendships and relationships. Your family would always stare, your friends always stared, even if they already knew, they’d always stare. Everyone is almost always noticing that instead of you you are, and that constant judgement always makes you feel even shittier about yourself. You already had low self esteem because of it, sometimes you’d look at your arms and think of just how ugly they were, and how it was all your fault. You didn’t want the only person who loved you to think less of you because of it. Sure, he should love you regardless, but you didn’t want him to feel awkward because of it.

But one day, he walked in on you taking your hoodie, and the conversation was completely inevitable.

“Oh shit-my bad-Darling?” You quickly realized and shoved your hoodie back on. He walked in, gently approaching you. He approached you like he knew how to talk to you, and it made you feel slightly reassured.

“Baby…is that why you don’t wanna wear short sleeves?” He asked, joining you on the bed. And you just nodded, and he offered his hands out to hold you. You agreed, cuddling up against him. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He offered, and you nodded your head.

“You have questions, I can tell.”

“I do, but you don’t have to answer them. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I’ll answer them, Ro.” You muttered into his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me…? Darling, I have scars too. From my surgeries, nasty ones…I know what it’s like to feel insecure about them.”

“I know but that’s different.”

“Scars are just signs of our battles, baby.” He spoke softly, stroking your hair. “And you’re the strongest person i’ve ever fuckin seen. I mean dealing with me? Takes a soldier.”

“God you’re so corny.” You mumbled, and he just laughed.

“Alas. it’s true though, you don’t gotta hide from me…I won’t ever think any less of you, okay?”

“I know but…it’s me too.”

“Why, do you think I'll think differently? self esteem? talk to me.” He asked, genuinely wanting to hear what you say.

“Bit of both.” You responded.

“I promise you, I think you’re the hottest, most amazing person, scarred or not. And for the record, I think scars are sexy, so how about that?”

“God you’re so unserious.” You laughed, genuinely laughing at his stupidity. He was an idiot, an unserious one, but your idiot nonetheless. You loved him, you loved him more than anything, and the fact he still saw you as beautiful even with your scars made you see him in a whole other light. He was truly a sweet guy under the whole “devil” persona he put up. He honestly wasn’t that devilish, even if he had his moments. He was a supportive boyfriend, one who loved you like you were the most holy thing ever. He loved you like he loved murder, like he loved his crowbar. He worshipped you, treated you like you were the most precious, like you were only to be loved by him. And you loved that about him, you needed that soft love, the gentle and slow love. Sure, you could go into the deeper, more intimate parts, but you also loved this type of love. You didn’t feel the need to rush things, because you were just getting back into dating for the first time since you were in recovery.

So for now, baby steps. One foot in front of the other, and it’ll all work out in the end. It did before, and it will now.

[starkspondwater]

Feeling Like a Man- Butters Stotch x Shy! Reader

Summary: A look into Butters relationship as he comes into his own (light smut)

a/n : For some reason I just really want a slightly more dominant Butters. He's so sweet I just cannnnt.

Butters was used to how people treated him. He’d been the “pushover” of his class for as long as he can remember. He knew he wasn’t exactly respected among his peers, but they were his friends. It was as much a part of his life as his normal routines, like brushing his teeth and packing his backpack. 

Even the few girlfriends he somehow got in adolescence treated him a bit like a dog, having him play fetch with their belongings and expecting his obedience. It was all a bit…emasculating, which was saying something coming from him, I mean he still LOVED Hello Kitty Island Adventure. However, he let all of that go because that’s the way it always was…until you.

You had been the “new kid” for a few months and had yet to warm up to anyone. You were quiet and reserved, and when someone did talk to you it was as though you were a deer in the headlights, scared at being caught somewhere you weren’t supposed to be. Butters had no problem with you, he was just busy with his own stuff, or Eric’s stuff he should say (God you would think being being so close to graduating would’ve curbed his scheming but it only increased his habits) You had no classes together and he didn’t really think about interacting with you.

Willy’s Chilly Ice Cream Parlor was not Butters’ favorite job, but it wasn’t completely awful and it gave him decent shifts. Sometimes kids would cry and yell or someone would give some overly complicated order, but he enjoyed seeing the excitement people had for something as simple as ice cream. This particular evening was slow, him trying to pass the time by sorting the clean scooping spoons and organizing drawers for the hundredth time. As the bell jingled overhead he looked up and saw you, standing to one side and inspecting the large blown up menu on the wall. You looked sweet, a large sweater wrapped you up nice and cozy, though he did notice that the cold outside had pinked up your cheeks and nose.

Walking over to the counter, you startled seeing one of your classmates in front of you. Butters felt a little awkward being seen in his uniform. Sure, many of his friends had seen him at work, but the pink striped shirt and dingy apron wasn’t exactly a confident look. After a beat of silence from you, he broke the ice.

“Hiya Y/N, what can I do ya for?” he put on a smile hoping it would put you a little more at ease with him. If Butters was good at anything, in his opinion, it was his job. You shuffled around slightly, eyes wandering over the flavors behind the glass to the left of you. He watched as you pondered your options, finding it cute when your head slightly tilted. 

“Would it be alright if I had a scoop of cookie dough, please?” you asked before giving him a little smile. A warmth grew in his chest at the sight, and now that he actually got a look at you, he thought you were awfully pretty. With a quiet “of course” he got everything ready, intentionally going a little slow.

“Did you just feel like a cold lil’ treat tonight?” 

“Um, I aced that biology exam in Mr. Duchie’s class,” you fiddled a bit with the sleeves of your sweater, watching his movements on the other side of the counter. Rolling on the balls of your feet, you continued “it was really difficult so I figured I’d treat myself a little.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Most people came in here with friends to chit chat or gossip, to hang out, but here you were all on your lonesome to get a treat for passing a test. It was too cute! Subtly, he added a second scoop before handing out the small plastic bowl. You were already opening your wallet when Butters cut in.

“It’s on me. I had Duchie last year and jeez, his tests sure are difficult. You worked hard for it!” he found himself mentally patting himself on the back as he watched you continue to blush.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered, stepping away. Almost out of his control, Butters found himself inviting you to stay. It was a slow night and he was due for a break anyhow, and icecream is always better with company! As his shift went on he found he rather liked getting to know this new girl. That’s how it all started.

__

It didn’t take long to progress into him walking you to class and carrying your books, opening doors for you and pulling out your chair, to walking you home every single day.  You didn’t have to ask him to do anything at all and he was fine with that since every time he did those things he got to see that pretty little blush on your face. It’s when you started kissing him on the cheek that he realized he was a goner. He definitely more than just liked you, and for once he found that he didn’t have to second guess if you, the girl he liked, felt the same. 

Over the months you spent time together, small dates and study sessions, you made him feel more confident. Despite his softer interests, you made him feel like a man. You never poked fun at his love of cute things, the stuffies he had around his room, or any of the rather childish words he normally said. You grew more talkative and asked him for his opinions on things, making him feel important. In turn, he felt protective of you. He really liked the thought that you felt safe with him, of all people, and he took it seriously. Even after graduation, he was glued to you whenever he could.

Weirdly enough it was his friends that informed him that he had been taking the lead on things, Kenny pointing out how you seemed to look to him for direction when you were nervous, or how he seemed to know how to lead you into more comfortable situations, a gentle hand on your arm or waist.

“Our little Butters is growing up!” they had all joked, playfully punching his arm and in general just being guys, but it had him thinking. He had noticed how all you two had done were pecks here and there. He figured when you were ready to do more you’d do something. However, to think that maybe you were wanting him to make the first move stirred something in him. That evening, while studying at Butters’ home, books scattered on the floor, he kissed you. Really kissed you, the kind that left you breathless with swollen lips and mussed up hair, a look he decided was one of his favorites.

__

Sex had always been just that for the blond boy. The few times he did have sex it was quick, and while it did feel good it wasn’t all that fun. He felt awkward with being told what to do and how to do it, it never felt like he was really a part of it, but as said before that’s what he had been used to. With you, it was so much more different. 

As you took things slow Butters found that every touch seemed to do something to you, and man did he feel powerful. He could feel you shudder when he grabbed your thigh under the table and he could hear the sharp intake of breath when he moved your hair off your neck - he savored all of it. He had never had anyone act like that when it came to lil’ ol him.

The first time you had sex he watched you writhe underneath him, mouth open with quiet, breathy moans. The flush he so enjoyed stretched down onto your exposed chest, peaked nipples rising and falling in tandem with his own chest. He loved that view best.

The first time he praised you he thought he saw god. He had murmured things before when the two of you got lost in one another, the occasional ‘fuck’ slipping in, but nothing overtly so. “Such a good girl, you can take a little more, yeah?” had come out of his mouth at one point, him tucking up your legs in a mating press. You had felt so good he barely registered what he said, but when those words hit your ears your walls clenched around him. He had known when you finished, of course, but this was intense and had him nearly passing out in pleasure. He didn’t know why he had said those words, but boy was he glad he did as he continued pounding into you.

He marked you, at first with hickeys along your thighs and breasts, you acting bashful whenever you noticed them afterwards, but then they grew more visible along your neck. You never seemed to mind it, especially since Butters looked so proud of his work. There was something to be said about others knowing that you and him were not just together, but together, and he liked it.

Unfortunately, others wanted but they didn’t have. As the season warmed up you had become the flavor of the month. Butters seethed inwardly as he watched guy after a guy, and even a few gals, try to flirt with you. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, it was that they made him feel…inadequate. Everyone else seemed so much stronger than he was, so much more assertive, confident. A nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him of it often through the years, and at the moment it was yelling nonstop.

It was one night at your house that you commented on his melancholy demeanor. The question had only barely left your lips when he sighed dejectedly. Butters knew he was terrible at lying, and let it spill.

“I don’t know if I’m…enough for ya.” He refused to look at you, shame burning in his eyes. “There’s so many people out there that could do more for ya, be more for ya. More than plain Butters.” It was quiet for a bit when he felt your soft hands on his face, gently lifting his gaze to yours. The look in your eyes caused a lump to form in his throat as he listened to you.

“I don’t like that you think that way…You are more than enough for me, Leo,” you said softly, using the nickname only you called him. You moved your hand to cradle his cheeks, noticing the moisture that began to form in his eyes. “I do not want to be with anyone else, no matter how much more you think they could do for me. I just want you.” His resolve was breaking as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m not tough, or manly, or, gosh I don’t even know anymore,” you felt him try to move his head away but you firmly held his head in place. Despite the situation, he found himself surprised. You had never been firm like this before, not with him or anyone.

“I don’t care about any of that. I have you,and that is enough for me. I get to decide that,” with that final statement, you kissed him, pulling him towards you. His eyes grew wide, a few tears slipping out. He had always been the one to initiate what went on between you two, and while he didn’t mind, he didn’t realize how badly he needed you to do this. 

Slowly and deliberately, you undressed him and yourself, hands roaming over him with care. You had pulled him on top of you, living in the warmth of his skin on yours. As he reached towards your bedside drawer for the usual box of condoms, you stopped him. He looked at you confused for a moment.

“I…I want this. I want you.” For once, in all of your relationship with this beautifully sweet boy, you looked determined. You were already wet when he slid inside, relishing in the raw warmth of you.

“Oh Jesus, darlin’,” he breathed, gradually bottoming out. Everything had felt wonderful before, but this was…something else entirely. “Are you alright?” Looking at your face he could practically see the stars in your eyes before you grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours once more, effectively giving him your answer.

In Butters’ opinion, this was the definition of making love. This was slow and passionate. It was filled with something intangible, immeasurable. Pumping in and out of you felt unreal without the barriers that normally separated you. You were so good to him, and he wanted to be just as good to you. He worked to make sure you were taken care of, feeling your orgasm roll over him before he picked up the pace. As warm, sticky bursts shot into you, he found himself saying over and over “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

As he slowly pulled out, observing your spent form underneath him, words of love lightly murmured as you regained yourself, he finally felt at ease with himself.

He was enough.

[redpill-tfs]

Two Wishes

Aaron wasn't surprised when his grandfather left him out of his will.

The two had constantly clashed while he was alive. The retired Republican senator had never approved of his only grandson being gay. Nor did he appreciate his liberal activism. In Grandpa Scott's world, it was his way or the wrong way.

Aaron was fine following his own path in life. But when Grandpa Scott died, he felt a little sad the two hadn't been closer. Searching through the old attic's junk for something to remember him by, he stumbled across an old golden lamp. It looked just like the ones in old movies, covered in dust just begging to be rubbed off.

"Well, I guess I have nothing to lose by trying it," he thought as he picked it up. Sure enough, as soon as he began to rub the lamp, red smoke started to emerge before a hulking figure with a ghostly tail appeared before his eyes.

"Greetings, mortal. I am here to grant your two biggest wishes," the figure said, its arms out wides in a grand show of authority and charisma.

"Isn't it three wishes?"

"Not anymore. That's mainly used in movies to show a lesson being learned. Now we just give two wishes, so choose carefully. The only rules are no asking for more wishes and no bringing people back from the dead."

Aaron thought about it for a moment. He did have one wish right now. Though he'd never really wanted it before, his grandpa's love and approval of him would mean everything to him now. He wanted his grandpa to pat him on the back and tell him how proud he was of him. If that wasn't an option, he might as well ask for the next best thing as his first wish.

"I wish Grandpa Scott was proud of me."

"Granted." The genie snapped its fingers, and Aaron could feel himself start to change.

He looked down at his hands, noticing wrinkles appearing where they weren't before. His back started to ache a little bit, and his hair turned short and grey with age.

"What's happening to me!?" Aaron yelled out. "I didn't want this!"

"You wanted your grandfather to be proud of you. He'd never be proud of the old you and you know that. I'm turning you into someone he'd actually be proud of."

The changes continued as they spoke. His old t-shirt morphed into a crisp white dress shirt, buttoned all the way up. A bright red tie tied itself around his neck and a blue suit jacket draped itself over his shoulders. An American flag pinned itself to his lapel.

The mental changes started next. Memories of coming out of the closet completely vanished from his mind, as his rear entrance closed and tightened, never to be entered again. He'd never do anything sinful like that! He cared too much about his faith to go against God's teachings.

And God had taught him at a young age that Right is right. He immediately registered as a Republican at the age of 18 and had voted red ever since. He ran for office as soon as he was old enough and now the 68 year old has been a senator for the past 30 years, proudly representing his state and traditional values. He considered it his duty to fight the good fight against the godless liberals and their socialist ideals. They may win some battles but never the war. And with the recent reelection of Donald Trump, the tides were shifting once again in their favor.

"How do you feel, Aaron? Remember you still have one wish left."

Oh, right. Aaron had wished for something. He couldn't remember what, though. He had everything he'd ever wanted. A fulfilling career, a loving wife, and proud conservative kids and grandkids who knew God was in control. What else could he want? Standing in front of his workplace, the American flag waving proudly in the background, Aaron got an idea.

Maybe...

"I wish the American people would all believe the values I preach!"

[vampirememory]

quality ✧ do you need to lower or raise your standards? [Love PAC]

Hello! I believe this is my first pick a card of 2024, I hope you appreciate the topic I chose. This is something that I recently had to recognize and deal with myself, so hopefully you find this reading helpful.

Pick a photo or a number one through three and continue reading to find your reading.

One

No, absolutely not. If anything, your standards are too low. You are like me, at least myself a few weeks/months ago when I did not value myself. You need to understand that you are 100% valuable and loved, and that there is nothing that can depreciate your value. You may have been overconsuming readings, questioning as to why you continue getting into toxic relationships or completely lack a relationship and it's because you have a negative sense of self. Listening to self-worth or self concept subliminals may help you. You are worthy of a healthy, happy relationship but you need to be healthy yourself first. Now keep in mind, healthy does not mean without illnesses. I know from my experience with depression, I will never be healthy, but you CAN have a healthy outlook on life and a healthy sense of self, which is what you are looking for. Especially for my mentally ill friends, no one (not here, at least) is expecting you to be 100% healthy but to be as healthy as you can be, if that makes sense.

Two

Girlie, I hate to tell you but your standards are high as fuck. But is that a bad thing? You tell me. To be clear, when I say girlie I am 100% being gender neutral, this reading is for everyone ^-^! You're giving boss bitch energy, but are you actually a boss bitch? One thing about having high standards is that you also need to meet those standards yourself and you need to ask yourself "would someone like that want to date me"? For example, if you're really aiming for a basketball player or the top CEO, are you actually in a mental and physical space where that will happen? Are you out on the courts, networking and integrating yourself into sports environments? Are you working your way up to the top, making connections with higher ups and building a good reputation? I think you may have good standards, but you aren't reaching them yourself or not putting yourself in environments where you'll meet said person. Also make sure you are actually maintaining those standards too. If you think education is important, and you're actively in education and want someone else who is too, why settle for someone who hates education or isn't looking to educate themselves? Things like that make all the difference. If you want to talk the talk, you need to walk the walk too.

Three

This pile gives me much softer vibes than the other two piles. Your standards and romantic requests may be more traditional, you may want the house and the kids and the white picket fence and that's totally fine! I think you're doing well in terms of your standards, you uphold them and you aren't putting yourself in situations where you are with people who are against that dream or against those standards. I do need to warn you, however, that there are a lot of exploitive people out there, especially when it comes to wanting a more traditional homelife. Waiting is a completely fine thing to do. Don't jump at the first person that looks nice and ticks all the boxes because they may be lying. I don't see terrible things happening for you but I feel like I needed to include a warning. Just be careful and you'll get your wishes <3.

Thats all for today my friends! Check out my masterlist for my previous readings and remember to stay safe in this crazy world! Feel free to send asks with any topics you would like to see in the future.

[thealternateuniverse]

You belong with Me

Bambam x reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut(?) if it counts as one

-------

"Y/N, I have a lunch with—"

"JYP, yeah, I already made the reservation. You'll be at the private lounge."

"What about the budget proposals for—"

"Done. Color-coded and on your desk."

"And don’t forget the contract for—"

"Stray Kids? Called Jinyoung. He’s drafting it, but he says you still owe him dinner."

Bambam leans back in his chair, eyeing you with exaggerated suspicion. "Are you secretly reading my mind? Or do you have little spies running around?"

You smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He exhales, shaking his head. "I swear, if you ever leave, I’m screwed."

"Good thing I enjoy watching you suffer, then."

He chuckles before rubbing his temples. "No, but seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You mentally pat yourself on the back. Being Bambam’s secretary is a full-time commitment. If you had to describe it, you’re Donna Paulsen, and he’s Harvey Specter. The man doesn’t understand the concept of a break, and keeping up with him isn’t for the weak.

"No problem, Bam. I gotchu."

Just as you turn to head back to your desk, he suddenly remembers something.

"Oh, wait. I think you deserve this."

He lifts a small white envelope, waving it between his fingers.

You narrow your eyes. "What’s that? A bonus? A thank-you note? A restraining order?"

"Trip to Thailand." He grins. "All expenses paid. A whole week. You're welcome."

You blink. "You just said you don’t know what you’d do without me, and now you’re sending me away? Make it make sense."

Bambam leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Oh, don’t worry, I’ll suffer. But this way, when you come back, you’ll be well-rested and even more efficient. It’s a win-win."

You cross your arms. "Or… I could just stay there permanently and leave you to drown in your own mess."

He gasps dramatically. "You wouldn’t dare!"

You smirk. "Try me."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Nah, you love me too much to leave."

You roll your eyes, heart skipping a beat, but take the envelope anyway.

You hold up the envelope, inspecting it like it might be a prank. "There’s no catch? No secret work waiting for me in Thailand?"

Bambam smirks. "No catch. Just my way of showing appreciation. And maybe ensuring you don’t quit on me."

You narrow your eyes. "Mm-hmm. That part sounds more like the real reason."

He gasps, placing a hand on his chest. "Wow. Can’t a guy be generous without being accused of ulterior motives?"

You tap the envelope against your palm. "Not when that guy is you."

Bambam chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "Fine, fine. I admit, it’s a little bit of both. But mostly, I figured you deserved a break before you burn out and start plotting my demise."

You pretend to think. "Oh, I started plotting that months ago."

He winks. "And yet, I’m still alive. Must be the charm."

You roll your eyes. "More like my patience. Which, by the way, has a limit."

Bambam tilts his head. "And what happens when you hit that limit?"

You smirk. "Guess we’ll find out when I get back from Thailand."

Bambam dramatically shudders. "Should I be scared?"

"Always."

He laughs, shaking his head. "See? This is why I’m sending you away. You need some beach therapy before you actually murder me."

You sigh, slipping the envelope into your bag. "Fine. I’ll take the trip. But if I come back and find out you’ve made a mess of everything—"

Bambam grins. "Relax, I’ll be on my best behavior."

You snort. "That’s a lie."

He shrugs. "Yeah, but you won’t be here to witness it, so does it really matter?"

You shake your head, turning to leave. "Unbelievable."

Just as you reach the door, Bambam calls after you. "Wait!"

You turn back. "What now?"

He grins. "You’re still working tomorrow, right?"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "See? This is why I don’t trust you."

He chuckles, completely unapologetic. "Hey, just making sure. Enjoy your trip, assistant of the year."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile on your lips as you walk out.

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

If your feet could talk, they’d be cursing you right now. Your heels felt like medieval torture devices, and your jaw ached from the forced smile you’d been wearing all night. When—please—would this damn party end?

And, of course, your boss was nowhere to be found. You’d spent the last hour weaving through the sea of socialites and champagne flutes, hoping to track him down so you could finally leave. You had a flight to catch tomorrow—destination: Thailand.

Bambam’s family’s annual charity ball was in full swing, a grand, glittering event that you had somehow managed to plan on top of your already impossible workload. And while you’d smiled and nodded through countless conversations, your mind was elsewhere.

You were dreading tomorrow. Not the trip itself—no, that was the one silver lining. You just couldn’t wait to escape for a while. To get away from all of this.

Spotting a familiar face, you grabbed the nearest (and hopefully sober) person. "Gyeom, have you seen your brother?"

Yugyeom blinked at you, swaying slightly. "Oh, he’s probably… somewhere… drunk."

You sighed. "That’s not helpful, Gyeom."

He grinned lazily. "Helpful is overrated. Besides, you know how these things go. Jackson got us all started, and once Jackson gets started—"

"—All of you lose all sense of responsibility. Yeah, yeah, I know."

Yugyeom patted your shoulder with the enthusiasm of someone who no longer had full control of his limbs. "Just… let him be. He’s having fun. You should too!"

You gave him a deadpan look. "I would love to, but unlike you, I actually have to leave in the morning. Flight. Early. Remember?"

He frowned. "Oh, right. You’re ditching us."

"Not ditching. Temporarily escaping before I commit workplace homicide."

Yugyeom laughed. "Fair. But if you’re looking for him, maybe check the balcony? He likes to hide when he’s had too much to drink."

You groaned but nodded. "Thanks, Gyeom. Try not to pass out in a fountain, yeah?"

He grinned. "No promises."

With a sigh, you turned toward the balcony, bracing yourself for whatever state Bambam was in.

You found the others—Jackson, Key, Mingyu, Ten, and Minghao—already deep into the party.

"Y/N… not even tipsy yet?" Jackson greeted, handing you a shot of Hennessy.

You glanced at the glass, debating. You were trying to avoid alcohol tonight—hangovers and early flights don’t mix—but one drink wouldn’t kill you.

"Nope. I’m ditching everyone tomorrow, and I gotta do it sober. Have you seen Bambam?"

"Oh, your boss? Yeah, he’s drunk off his ass. Went to the bathroom a few seconds ago—probably to throw up or negotiate with gravity."

Fantastic. Your feet were already killing you, and now you had to go find him again.

"Great. If he comes back, tell him I already left. And if anything goes missing this week, don’t bother looking for me until my plane lands back here."

The guys exchanged knowing looks, shaking their heads. They were used to your and Bambam’s chaotic boss-secretary dynamic. And you were dead serious about your DND mode.

"Well, enjoy Thailand," Mingyu said. "Just don’t enjoy it so much you forget to come back. Bambam will lose his shit. Hell, he’s probably losing it now."

Mingyu nodded toward the far end of the room. There stood Bambam, trying (and failing) to look composed. His stance wobbled slightly, and his half-lidded eyes gave him away. He was deep in conversation with Sandara Park, probably saying his goodbyes. She looked like she was about to leave.

"And… that’s my cue. Gotta vanish before he fully processes what’s happening."

After bidding the boys farewell, you made your way toward Bambam, who looked about three seconds from face-planting.

"Bam…" you called.

"Y/N!" he slurred, flashing a wide grin.

He excused himself from Sandara and turned toward you—only to stumble. You sighed, already predicting how this night would end.

"Hey, I’m leaving. Flight tomorrow, remember?"

Bambam groaned, pouting dramatically while still gripping his glass of Bombay.

"I regret giving you that damn ticket."

You smirked, arms crossing as you took in his state. His tie was crooked, three buttons undone, and his entire face was flushed red.

"And you should go home before you regret this hangover tomorrow."

Except… judging by the way he was looking at you—half-lidded, unbothered, borderline not comprehending. He didn’t argue. Instead, he placed his glass down on the nearest table. You pulled out your phone to call his driver.

"Come on, let’s walk out of here and at least pretend you’re sober. Your ride’s waiting outside."

Feigning casualness, you clung to his arm, guiding him as he insisted on stopping every few steps to say goodbye to people. By the time you finally reached the car, his legs gave out.

"Oh, for fu—Bambam!" you hissed, barely catching him before he hit the ground.

He was dead weight. Completely out.

"My god. This is not part of my job. Get it together! I haven't even left yet."

With no other option, you climbed into the car, directing his driver to drop your boss to his apartment

In the backseat, he was fully knocked out, snoring lightly.

Just another night dealing with your menace of a boss.

With the help of his driver, you somehow managed to haul Bambam’s deadweight up to his apartment on the 31st floor. By the time you got him through the door without breaking your backs, you were officially over it.

"Oh my god, I can’t wait to go to Thailand," you muttered under your breath as you tucked him into bed.

You should’ve left right then. But instead, you found yourself rummaging through his cabinets, searching for Tylenol or Advil—because knowing him, he’d wake up tomorrow hating his entire existence. You placed the pills and a bottle of water on his bedside table before turning back to him.

"Bam…" you tapped him gently, checking if he was conscious.

His right eye cracked open, barely.

"At least take off your coat and tie," you sighed.

He groaned, rubbing his face before sluggishly sitting up. With his eyes still shut, he half-heartedly peeled off his coat and tugged at his tie. When he finally got them off, he handed them to you—except, at the last second, he let them slip right through his fingers and onto the floor.

You exhaled sharply. "I swear to god, Bambam—"

Before you could finish, he caught your wrist, tugging you toward him. You stumbled slightly, caught off guard.

His grip was loose, but his voice was quiet—almost pleading.

"I wish I could tell you this when I am sober but.......I so badly need you. Don't leave, please?"

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse thudding so hard you swore your eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets. What in Merlin's beard was happening to your boss? You mentally noted to check the batch number on that Bombay—maybe it had expired or something.

"Uhh… you technically gave me the ticket," you pointed out, trying to sound casual, even though your insides were screaming.

You carefully tried to slide your arm out of his grip, but instead of letting go, Bambam pulled you closer. His head slumped against your stomach, his warmth seeping through your clothes.

You froze.

Your boss was drunk. You were not. And… what the hell was this?

For a split second, you questioned whether you were the drunk one, but no—your mind was painfully clear. And yet, here he was, clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

"Right…" he muttered, his voice rough.

You stood there awkwardly, weighing your options. Should you push him off? Knock him out so he could go back to sleep? Pretend this never happened?

"And I need to leave now because I have a flight tomorrow," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don't miss me too much. It's just a week."

The words felt hollow as soon as you said them. You realized, too late, that it probably fed into whatever drunken fantasy Bambam had in his hazy, alcohol-laced mind. You saw his eyes flicker up to you, dark and heavy with something unspoken.

Your stomach did a flip. This wasn’t just some playful drunken nonsense, you thought. The room suddenly felt too small, the air thick with something neither of you could deny.

Bambam lifted his head, the vulnerability in his gaze cutting through the alcohol haze. "You don’t know what it’s like... being around you all the time. I’ve been... Trying to act..... Normal.....But you…mm" His words faltered as he inched closer, his hand now resting on your waist.

Your mind screamed at you to walk away, to snap back into your usual role, to remind him of who you were: his secretary, his subordinate, not someone he could...

But before you could finish that thought, Bambam was pressing his lips to yours. Your body froze at first, but the heat of it, the intensity of the kiss, was too much to ignore.

You could feel the tension snap, like a dam breaking. And despite every single logical reason to pull back, you didn’t. You kissed him back, feeling the desperation in the way his hands gripped your back, as if he were trying to pull you into his soul itself.

His lips were warm, insistent, carrying the weight of something he had been holding back for too long. He wasn’t just drunk; there was intention in the way he pulled you closer, his hands sliding over your waist, fingers pressing into your lower back as if to keep you from disappearing.

You melted against him before you could think twice, your body responding before your mind could catch up.

“Bam…” you whispered against his lips, unsure if it was a plea to stop or to keep going.

But he didn’t stop. His lips traveled down, grazing your jawline before pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. Your breath hitched, and your fingers instinctively tangled into his shirt, gripping the fabric as he pulled you flush against him.

“I think I'm going insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low, heavy with something deeper than just drunken words. “And you drive me insane, do you know that?”

Your heart pounded as he trailed his hands up your sides, his touch firm yet careful, as if memorizing every inch of you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this was a bad idea. You knew this would change things. But right now, with his lips claiming yours again, with his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, none of it mattered.

You barely registered him guiding you toward the bed until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He sat first, pulling you down with him, his hands never leaving your body. His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns down your spine, sending shivers through you.

“Don't be thinking too much,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You didn’t get the chance to respond because the next thing you knew, he was flipping the both of you over, pressing you into the mattress with his body caging you in. His eyes, dark and clouded with desire, locked onto yours as he leaned down, his breath fanning against your lips.

Your clothes were suddenly everywhere Scattered across the room in a blur of heat and hands. You weren’t even sure when or how they came off. Maybe you had been too distracted, lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his hands explored your body with an intoxicating mix of urgency and reverence.

Oh my god. He’s your boss.

You’re about to fuck with your boss.

A fleeting moment of hesitation hit you, but then you glanced at him—his dark, hooded eyes watching you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded, his pouty lips swollen from kissing you, his breath uneven.

You made your decision.

"You know what? Hell yeah."

This time, you were the one pulling him down, crashing your lips against his as you worked to remove the last of his clothes.

And damn.

You had seen Bambam in expensive suits, silk shirts, and designer fits, but seeing him like this, bare, raw, unfiltered—was something else entirely.

He was toned, every muscle defined beneath your fingertips, his frame lean yet strong. And his tattoos? You took your time tracing the ink with your fingers, your lips following the patterns across his skin.

Bambam let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against you as he hovered over you. "Didn’t know you liked my tattoos this much," he teased, though his voice was rough with want.

You met his gaze, smirking as you ran a hand down his chest. "Didn’t know you were hiding all this under your overpriced shirts," you shot back.

His grin widened, but there was something darker, more intense behind it. "Guess we’re both learning new things tonight," he murmured before his lips found yours again, stealing your breath, stealing your thoughts, until all that was left between you was heat and hunger.

And for the rest of the night, nothing else mattered.

----------

Bambam woke up to a pounding headache and a dry throat, his body heavy with the aftermath of too much alcohol. Groaning, he blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains, his mind still hazy from the night before.

And then—flashes.

Soft lips. Warm hands. His name whispered like a secret.

His eyes snapped open.

What the hell?

Did he… have a wet dream about Y/N? His secretary?

He winced as the throbbing in his head doubled, rubbing his temples as he sat up. His first instinct was to reach for his phone, but instead, his fingers brushed against something on his bedside table—a bottle of water, pain relievers, and a note.

Confused, he picked up the note and read it.

I contacted the restaurant for your recovery food before leaving.

A slow grin crept onto his face despite the headache.

Of course. Y/N.

Always one step ahead, making sure his life didn’t fall apart—even after a night of getting wasted. He popped the meds into his mouth, washing them down with a long gulp of water before finally grabbing his phone.

No messages.

He scrolled. Refreshed. Still nothing.

Huh. So she was serious about the DND mode.

He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. This would be the longest time they’d been apart since she started working for him. She was always there scheduling his meetings, handling his messes, reading his moods before he even had to say anything. And now? A whole damn week without her.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

This was his experiment, wasn’t it? Sending her to Thailand to see if he could function without her.

So why did it feel like he was already failing?

And more importantly… why did that dream feel so damn real?

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

Thailand was a waking nightmare.

You had to put on your glasses—twice—just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating, you gave up the contacts for now. Every street corner, every billboard, every bus stop, every goddamn souvenir shop… Bambam’s face was everywhere. Smirking, posing, looking effortlessly cool.

It was like sleep paralysis, except you were painfully awake.

Even on vacation, you couldn’t escape him. You practically hid behind your shades and sweats on the way to airport because you were dead tired and slept the whole day on your first day here.

And it wasn’t just his face plastered all over Bangkok that haunted you. No. It was the ghost of that night. The heat of his touch still lingered on your skin, the memory of his lips burned into your mind like a brand. And the worst part? You ran. You got up, got dressed, and bolted from his apartment like your life depended on it, leaving nothing behind but the aftermath of a mistake you weren’t ready to face.

Now here you were, stomping down the bustling streets of Thailand, spiraling.

Using your DND mode as a pathetic excuse not to text or call him about that night.

Of course. It was a one-night stand. No big deal. He probably didn’t even remember it was you.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. How the hell did it come to this?

I mean… okay. Bambam was objectively attractive. He was rich, charming, and effortlessly cool, the kind of man women threw themselves at without a second thought. He was Jackson Wang’s brother, for crying out loud! The whole world wanted him.

But you?

You were his secretary. His friend. His personal damage control. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Just what the fuck!” you blurted out, stomping your foot in the middle of the street.

Passersby turned to stare.

You forced an awkward smile before speed-walking away like a lunatic.

This was a disaster. A catastrophe. A career-ending mistake. How the hell were you supposed to look him in the eye after this? How were you supposed to work for him like nothing happened?

You exhaled sharply.

The only solution was to draft your resignation letter the second you got back.

Because there was no way you could survive this.

“Is my brother giving you a hard time?”

Your jaw practically unhinged.

Mark Tuan.

Standing right in front of you, looking effortlessly cool like he owned Thailand.

Why the hell was he everywhere too? Was this some kind of twisted prank?

You let out a deep sigh, pressing your fingers to your temple. “Mark. Seriously?”

He smirked, clearly amused by your suffering. Unlike his usual polished, business-ready look, today he was dressed down, in casual, comfortable, blending in like any other tourist. Almost. There was still something about his presence that screamed power. He might’ve swapped his suit for a hoodie, but he still carried himself like someone who could buy this entire city if he felt like it.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, folding your arms.

“Business,” he answered simply. “Flying out tonight, though.”

You groaned dramatically, looking at him with the kind of silent desperation usually reserved for someone pleading for their life. Forget that he was technically your boss too, he was Bambam’s brother. Which meant he might be the only person right now who could truly understand your current suffering without getting into details.

Mark tilted his head, watching you for a beat before gesturing ahead. “Come on. I know a good restaurant.”

You didn’t argue.

You just followed him, hoping a good meal could somehow fix your life.

-------------- 

Bambam thought he had everything under control.

He figured the week without Y/N would be a welcome change. A chance to prove he could function without her.

But it was turning into a nightmare.

He felt restless, checking his phone every few minutes. He would scroll through messages, emails, but mostly—he’d just open Instagram, scrolling mindlessly, hoping to see one of Y/N’s posts, a story, anything.

Every time he saw something from the temporary secretary filling in for Y/N, it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t right. They weren’t Y/N.

He found himself disappointed, irritated even, at the way the new assistant didn’t handle things quite the way Y/N did. The calm efficiency. The way she could anticipate his every need before he even voiced it. He missed her presence more than he wanted to admit, and every task, every email, felt... off.

It was a slow, quiet torture.

But there was something deeper gnawing at him. Something that wouldn’t leave his mind.

The memory of that night kept creeping back.

He kept replaying the blurry flashes in his head—the blackouts, the haze, the heat of her skin. At first, he thought it was a vivid dream. But the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be real right?

He couldn’t have slept with her?

Y/N was his secretary. His friend. She was off-limits.

But as the days dragged on, he couldn’t shake it. The fragments of the night—her lips on his, the way she felt in his arms, the soft murmur of her voice, the way her name tasted on his tongue. It all felt too real, too intimate to just be some drunken fantasy.

He kept thinking, wondering if he’d made it up in a drunken stupor. Maybe it was just a wild dream that his mind fabricated. But no—there was too much detail. Too much... intensity.

It was bothering him more than he expected.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, frustrated. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about this. Y/N was supposed to be out of sight, out of mind for the week.

Her absence made everything feel like it was missing its rhythm. Missing its pulse.

Still, every time his phone buzzed with another update from the substitute secretary, or when he walked into his office without her sitting at her desk, his chest tightened. He kept expecting Y/N to just be there, to fill the silence, to make things feel like normal.

Bambam sighed, tossing his phone down on the desk. His mind raced, and for the first time in a long while, he felt... uneasy.

"Fuck this."

He grabbed his coat, adjusting his tie as he prepared to leave his office. He was done, frustrated, and in need of a change. Maybe a flight to Thailand would clear his head. But then—he froze, hand mid-air, suddenly realizing something.

"At least take off your coat and tie," the voice in his head snapped, and for a moment, he cursed himself for not catching it earlier.

“You drive me insane.”

"You know what? Hell yeah."

A chill ran down his spine as he stood there, the realization hitting him like a freight train.

"Oh shit..." The dreams he’d dismissed, the ones that had haunted him for months, were suddenly real.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He grabbed his phone in a hurry, leaving his office, half-walking, half-running toward the elevator, panic mounting with each step. He needed answers.

When he finally got outside, his driver was already waiting for him. Bambam climbed into the back of the car, still processing the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his head.

"Sir," the driver greeted him, "Mr. Kim, how did I get home after the charity ball?"

Bambam turned his head to look at him, hoping for a shred of clarity. He couldn’t quite remember, and his brothers? Yeah, they were too drunk to even care.

"Uh... Ms. Y/L/N and I brought you home." The driver hesitated, unsure of himself, clearly caught off guard by the question.

"And did you drop her off after?"

The driver shook his head.

"Ms. Y/L/N texted me. She booked an Uber."

"What time was it?"

"It was already 4:30."

"Fuck!"

Everything clicked. The puzzle pieces were finally falling into place, and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. That explains the no texts or any messages. That explains everything. He hadn’t remembered the night before... how could he not remember?

He had to go to Thailand. Why he needed to see Y/N? To explain? To apologize? Hell, he wasn’t even sure why, he just had to see her.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. He checked it, Mark’s story on Instagram. A photo of his secretary—eating, no less. A stolen shot.

The caption:

"You deserve a treat for making everything easy."

Bambam’s blood ran cold.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His heart pounded. Mark was in Thailand? And he was eating with his secretary? With Y/N?!!!

He wanted to scream. Yell. Destroy something. Anything to get the frustration out.

"Mr. Kim, can you bring me to the airport, please?"

His driver nodded, clearly sensing the tension. Bambam didn’t care anymore. He just needed to get there. Even if it means suffering and dreading in economy class. So he booked the earliest flight he can get to Thailand.

Bambam’s plane touched down in Thailand. His heart pounded in his chest. What the hell am I doing? His mind screamed, but his feet moved on their own, carrying him through the crowded terminal.

He had to get it together for being impulsive

He had no idea what he was going to say to Y/N, no clue how to even start the conversation.

"Separation anxiety hit me so hard, I almost wrote you a love letter. Be grateful I just showed up instead."

Or

"Y/N, I was lonely and confused when I got drunk, and then I thought… you could fix that. So, hi!"

But all he knew was that he couldn’t let things be like this. He couldn’t leave things unresolved. Hell, he's still even wearing his office clothes and doesn't have anything but his phone and wallet. 

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone buzzing again.

Mark’s story.

Another picture of Y/N, laughing at something in front of her. The caption read, "Glad I could make this trip easier for you." And there she was, looking... happy. With Mark.

The gnawing feeling inside him tightened.

Why, in the hell, Mark was in Thailand with his secretary. And they are together all night?

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. No more questions. He had to face what had happened—everything.

As he left the airport and entered a cab, his phone buzzed again, this time with a message from .....Y/N... Finally! After 2 days!!

'I'll be sending my resignation.'

Bambam froze, feeling like his world stopped. What the fuck?! 

why does it seems like he couldn't catch a break. 

----

You sighed, staring at your phone after finally sending a text to your boss—for the first time in two days.

Having Mark around made everything feel a little lighter, like a much-needed reset. He wasn’t prying or pushing for answers. He simply asked about work, about him, and you responded with the usual: your daily routine, the way Bambam was a perfectionist to a fault, how insufferable he could be when making decisions.

And then, maybe because the boba tea was too good or because your thoughts had been eating at you for days, you said something incredibly stupid.

"Let’s say, hypothetically, Mark, you have a friend. You two are close. Then you slept together."

Mark choked—actually choked—on his drink, coughing as he wiped his mouth. "Okay? I need the whole context before I die here."

You hesitated, but the words were already out. Might as well commit.

"You’re both drunk. Or, well… one of you is drunk to the point of forgetting. And the other? Sober. The next morning, the drunk one doesn’t remember, and the sober one runs away and pretends it never happened. What would you do?"

Silence.

The moment the question fully registered, you wanted to slap yourself. Why—why—why would you ask Mark of all people? The brother of the guy you slept with.

Mark, to his credit, didn’t look completely suspicious. Just… amused.

"Okay… hypothetically? Nothing."

Your brows furrowed. Not the answer you were expecting.

"You look disappointed." Mark tilted his head, giving you a knowing look. "But really, if I don’t remember, I go about my life as usual. Unless memories hit me like a ton of bricks, then…" He trailed off, as if considering something deeply.

"Then?" you prompted, unable to stop yourself.

Mark smirked, sipping his drink. "Depends. If I find her really attractive… I might continue what we started."

Your mouth went dry.

He chuckled at your reaction. "And if I wasn’t particularly interested… I’d just ghost or pretend it never happened. Simple."

Your lips parted slightly, forming a small "oh."

So, either Bambam doesn’t remember.

Or… he remembers and doesn’t particularly care.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

"I see," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Mark studied you, his curiosity sharpening. "So… who’s this troubled friend of yours?"

You tensed.

The way he was looking at you—really looking—made you feel exposed, like if you lingered for even a second too long, he’d know. He’d see right through you.

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced down, checking your Instagram notifications—Mark tagged you in his stories.

You tapped it open, only to cringe at the stolen shots he’d posted. Oh my god. Did you really look that horrible when eating?

"Mark, seriously? You could’ve at least picked better photos and captions."

Mark grinned, unbothered. "The more dramatic, the better." He shook his head like it was obvious.

You tilted yours, confused. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Before he could answer, he glanced at his watch. "Oh, it’s already 4:30 PM. Cinderella’s gotta get back to the hotel."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname for himself but stood up nonetheless. "Well… thanks for today, I guess. Let’s just hope I don’t get flooded with hate DMs from your fans."

Mark smirked. "You won’t. They know better than to mess with the best secretary."

You chuckled, shaking your head. Best secretary, huh? Bambam would never.

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I won’t be able to walk you back, though. Didn’t realize the time—I have a flight to catch."

Something about the way he said it made you pause. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something more but wasn’t going to.

"Oh. Right. Safe flight, then."

You and Mark exchanged goodbyes before you turned and started walking back to your hotel. It was only a fifteen-minute stroll—just enough time to clear your head.

The evening air was thick with humidity, clinging to your skin as you navigated the lively streets of Thailand. Your thoughts drifted back to your conversation with Mark, to his hypothetical answers that felt a little too real.

But the moment you stepped into the hotel lobby, all of that vanished.

Your jaw dropped. "What the—"

Standing near the entrance, dressed in his office clothes, was Bambam.

His tie was loosened, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, and he was holding his coat in one hand—probably because of the humid weather. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day. And his eyes—dark, unreadable—locked onto yours the second you walked in.

"Took you long enough." His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it.

You blinked, still processing. "What… what are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe chasing my secretary across countries because she conveniently told me she is sending her resignation."

Your stomach flipped.

Oh, shit.

Your jaw remained unhinged, mind racing as you took in the sight of him—standing there, still dressed in his office clothes, not even bothering to change into something travel-friendly.

Bambam was always stylish. Always put together. But right now? He looked… wrecked. Like he had been through hell just to get here.

And then it hit you.

He flew all the way here, in a damn suit, because he thought you were quitting as his secretary.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there—something Longing?

Your throat tightened. But you had already made your decision.

"I quit because I can't work with you anymore."

You braced yourself for his reaction. For the sharp retort, the mocking smirk.

Instead, his jaw clenched.

"If this is about what happened that night, then fuck it—"

He took a step closer.

Your breath caught.

Your eyes widened as he reached for you, his fingers grazing your cheek with an almost possessive touch.

"Two fucking days." His voice was low, heated. "Two fucking days, and I gave you space. But that’s enough. You can quit being my damn secretary, but you’re not running away from me."

Your heart pounded. "But… I thoug—"

"I wasn’t sure if it was real at first." His forehead nearly touched yours now, his warmth seeping into your skin. "I thought you were just serious about your DND mode. But how dare you think I’d pretend it never happened while I was going crazy for the past two days?"

You scoffed, trying to put some distance between you, but he didn’t let you.

"That’s rich, Bambam." You forced a laugh, but it came out weak. "You didn’t even text me. Didn’t even call."

His fingers tightened slightly on your cheek before he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. "Because I was trying to respect your damn space."

You swallowed. "And then you just decided to chase me to another country?"

His lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes still burned. "I panicked."

You blinked. "You? Panicked?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. And it fucking sucked."

For the first time, he looked genuinely exhausted. Like he had been running on pure adrenaline just to get here.

"Bam, you—"

"Why did you leave?" He cut you off, voice softer this time. "Was it because you thought I’d just forget about it? That I wouldn’t care?"

You didn’t answer.

Because yes.

And the silence must have been enough of a response, because his expression darkened.

"That’s bullshit." He shook his head, laughing under his breath. "You really think I’d let you go that easily?"

Your stomach flipped. "I didn’t know what else to think."

"Then let me make it clear." He took your hand, pressing it against his chest—right over his racing heartbeat. "I fucking remember. Everything."

Your lips parted, words failing you.

"And I’m not letting you run from me again."

"I…" Your voice trailed off, words failing you as you instinctively tried to pull your hand away.

But he didn’t let go.

Bambam’s grip wasn’t tight—just firm enough to keep you there, as if letting go meant losing you all over again. His exhaustion was evident, his usual sharp gaze softened by jet lag and whatever insanity had driven him to chase you down here.

He sighed, shaking his head. "At least let me hug you. Damn, I missed you."

You swallowed hard before nodding.

The moment his arms wrapped around you, you felt his body relax against yours, his weight pressing into you as if he’d finally let himself breathe.

"Come on. You need to rest." You murmured, patting his back lightly.

Bambam groaned. "Badly. My back hurts from that goddamn economy seat. No legroom, nothing."

Your eyes widened in horror. "Wait—you flew economy?"

He nodded tiredly, rubbing his temple. "Yeah. Worst decision of my life."

You gasped, covering your mouth. "You mean to tell me… you flew all the way here… in economy… with no luggage? Just yourself?"

Bambam blinked at you, deadpan. Then he exhaled dramatically. "Baby… see how down bad I am."

You stared at him, still struggling to process how everything had escalated so fast.

It was one night.

One reckless, alcohol-fueled night.

And suddenly, he was chasing you across the world, sleep-deprived, professing—well, whatever the hell this was.

You didn’t know how things changed so fast, but one thing was certain: you’d figure it out soon enough.

Just… after he got some damn sleep.

----

Bambam jolted awake from his nap, his heart pounding when he realized no one was beside him. Panic set in for a split second—had Y/N left him again? He had dozed off in her hotel room, finally getting some rest after battling jet lag. Earlier, he had bombarded his brother, Mark, with texts, frustrated after waiting four hours in the damn hotel lobby. Mark had enjoyed Y/N’s company a little too much for Bambam’s liking—even posting her on his story just to spite him. And worst of all, it worked.

"You’re awake. You should get more sleep."

Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts as she set down the paper bags she brought—probably food.

"I thought you left me again."

He caught the way her smile faltered.

"You should eat first, Bam."

Bambam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat up, still groggy from sleep. His heart hadn’t quite settled yet. The panic from waking up alone still lingered in his chest.

"Bam?" Y/N repeated, her voice softer this time as she unpacked the food, carefully avoiding his gaze.

He didn’t argue. Taking the food, he quietly started his meal while Y/N sat across from him, absentmindedly poking at her dessert as she watched him. The silence between them was thick—almost expectant.

As soon as he finished, he wiped his mouth and leaned back. "You can start asking."

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to cut straight to the chase. Scrambling to gather her thoughts, she hesitated, searching for the right words.

"Why?"

She looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes, waiting—expecting an answer.

Why?

That same question had been running through his mind the entire way here. When did it even start? He wasn’t sure. Had he just grown too dependent on her as his secretary, mistaking it for something more? Or had there been affection all along—buried beneath layers of denial—conveniently masked as a simple boss-secretary relationship?

Bambam exhaled, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the table as he struggled to piece together his own emotions.

"You know, I used to think I just needed you. That’s it. You had my back, you knew exactly what I wanted before I even said a word—hell, sometimes before I even thought of it. I figured that’s what made you so damn important to me. You were dependable, irreplaceable, my right hand. But… turns out, I’m an idiot."

Bambam chuckled, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. His gaze flickered to you, lingering like he was seeing you for the first time—or maybe, just finally admitting what had been in front of him all along.

"Because needing you? That’s the bare minimum of what I feel."

"I love watching you work, you know? The way your brows furrow when you’re deep in something—concentrated, unbothered by the chaos I bring. How you line up everything I need like clockwork, like it’s second nature to you. How you remember my coffee order down to the last damn detail, and somehow, it always tastes better when it’s from you."

"And it’s not just that. It’s how good you look when you’re serious—like you belong right next to me, running this whole damn empire together. How perfect we are together, wherever we go. How your eyes light up over the smallest things—ice cream, desserts—even after back-to-back meetings that should have drained the life out of you. How you love seafood. How you only accept real carbonara, not that cream-drenched imposter dish."

"How you wince when a trainee messes up, like you feel secondhand embarrassment. How you laugh at my jokes—like, genuinely laugh—not just because I’m the boss, but because you actually enjoy my stupid humor."

"And then there was last night. That charity ball. That dress. You looked… ethereal. Like some untouchable goddess. Too bad I got drunk, huh? Too bad I was too much of a coward to admit all this before we ended up in… whatever the hell this situation is now."

He stepped closer, voice quieter but firm, his usual confidence laced with something deeper.

"It's shitty that it had to happen before I figured it out together but I don't regret it. And I know one thing for sure. I don’t just need you, Y/N. I want you. All of you. Every little thing about you that makes you you. And if I’ve already messed this up, well… tell me now. Otherwise, I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."

[cultkinkcoven]

Had a dream about Lord Hermes last night that almost brought me to tears

I appeared in this house, a modern house, no idea where but I’m quite sure I was in the states. Hermes was there, in human form standing in the living room. And I was very surprised to see him. There was an old assumably Mexican lady sitting on the couch watching the news, she was half asleep. She couldn’t see us.

And Hermes said “I want to show you something,” and started up the stairs. I followed him and we ventured into a little bedroom.

In this room were a lot of posters and drawings of Hermes among other things. Lots of Steven universe and adventure time merch. Obviously the room of a child or teen, lots of toys and books. And Hermes gives me a smirk and then slowly opens the closet. There’s a kid in there, or teen, maybe 14 years old. They’re wearing large headphones over their ears and watching something on their phone, Steven universe I think.

And Hermes says hello, and the kid waves his hands, smiles. I immediately knew this kid was autistic, likely high needs. It’s easy to tell when you’re around another autist.

And Hermes goes, “this is my best friend Austin. He’s autistic, almost completely non-verbal. Say hi, he can see you, y’know.”

And I said hi, kneeled down. He looked at me, made a face of recognition, and started nodding his head. Smiling. I smiled back. “Hi Austin, I like your room.” Happy stimming hands. Aw.

“Austin doesn’t talk but he loves to read. He’s actually a fan of your blog, did you know that?”

And I looked at Hermes, “no, I didn’t.”

“He was inspired by your post to make his first real altar for me y’know. See, Austin and I have been great friends since he was real small. He struggles a lot with some things, but he is incredibly talented at other things, especially seeing. Austin found me when no one else would find him, and he’s been an amazing friend to me since we met.”

Aw. I smiled. That made me feel really good.

“He didn’t feel safe or comfortable exploring deity work in the way others often do. Austin is excluded from a lot of things because people think he can’t understand. But you wrote a post once Shi, about giving the mentally diverse space to engage with spirituality on their own terms. And it made Austin feel a lot better about pursuing me, making an altar.”

Austin made a noise of excitement and happy stimmed, kicked his feet. And showed us his phone. I think one of his favourite characters, Peridot had appeared in the show and he was excited to show us.

I got excited with him, and so did Hermes.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Hermes added under his breath. “I know that Lucifer could have told you this a million times but you may have become desensitized to his praise. So it’s coming from me now. Shi, most of my most cherished humans are people like Austin. That’s the way it has always been, Gods have always held special protections and affinities over the most vulnerable. And those people often have hidden talents. So I’m thanking you for creating a space for them, for standing up for them, and I’m personally requesting that you continue. When your work evolves and becomes more than an online blog, remember Austin.”

Oh… wow.

“Austin has never felt like he deserved to be chosen by me, he gets down on himself sometimes. You open a space for people like Austin to feel worthy. And we like that, don’t we Austin?”

And Austin smiled. I smiled back.

“Thank you for letting us hang out with you, Austin,” I said.

And then he got up and out of the closet, went over to his bed and pulled out a sketchbook from underneath it. He began showing us drawings he’d done of him and Hermes together. They were precious.

But after a while of that, Austin was becoming visibly uncomfortable and nervous. Hermes gave me a look, I already knew.

“Okay, buddy, I gotta take Shi home now. I’ll be back in a flash!”

And Austin started nodding his head again, crawled back into the closet.

“Bye Austin.”

I will never forget that kid. I wonder if he’ll see this.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Do you think Pony is suicidal? In your post about Pony dying in the fire you mentioned how the gang watches after him and you said “suicide watch” so now you’ve got me wanting to know more of your thoughts

Ok, I want to be very clear in that I don't think Pony is actively suicidal for most of the novel. But the kid is very obviously mentally ill. It's heavily implied that he was noticeably pretty depressed for a while directly following his parents deaths, and I think he's still depressed during the events of the book. He then suffers smoke inhalation and MULTIPLE head traumas in a very short amount of time. For anyone who doesn't know what a concussion does to your brain, it literally stretches your neurons (brain cells), or twists them irrevocably. It literally pulls your brain cells apart, and neurons (for the most part) do not regenerate. Multiple concussions in a row? That will probably leave lifelong damage, nevermind that it exacerbates symptoms that were already there. Ponyboy legitimately has a psychotic episode because of his concussion and his grief of losing Johnny. He genuinely and completely believes, even briefly, that Johnny didn't die and that he was the one who had stabbed Bob. Then we get to the part where he's describing a lot of symptoms of concussions- absent mindedness, forgetting things etc, before he gets to the part where he talks about the english assignment. Now, this part jumps out to me because its so much less in depth than the rest of the book. Part of that might have been the forgetfulness, but I think it was something deeper. Because Ponyboy doesn't shy away from a lot in the story, but he does gloss over things that are particularly personal or unsavoury that don't contribute directly to the story. We also know that Ponyboy is BIG into escapism, with his love of books and movies and his dependence on substances such as nicotine and asprin (i've written a post about his huge potential for addiction but I can't find it at the moment). I think yeah, the concussion played a role in some of his 'lost time' but I also think Ponyboy's mental heath was at an all time low and he wanted to keep that out of his account of the story as much as possible. It's clear in the following paragraphs that his teacher and his brothers and the gang were all pretty concerned, even if he tries to brush over it. After all, who'd want to confess to not remembering huge swaths of time or struggling so much with your grief you're struggling to cope with life? Not Ponyboy Curtis, thats for sure.

Thanks for the ask, I hope this isn't too rambly xx

[redphlox]

How long do you think Dabi survived for in the tube? I’m regards to Natsuo’s character, do you think he got the chance to reconcile with Touya despite the Ending incident? How do you think that went down?

One thing I will credit to the ending of MHA, the fact they still have Touya’s shrine (wonder if they still have kid Touya’s picture or if it’s a different one) considering Shoto prays to it. They never forgot about him, and they never seemed to blame him either saying they would always be there (Fuyumi and Rei said anyway.) Although I hope he didn’t die in the tube and was able to hug them one last time. The idea that Dabi is probably the only villain to be remembered by his family/have a grave while Toga and everyone else were abandoned is low key heartbreaking. But the whole ending for the LOV is LOL

I think maybe Toya survived a couple of weeks or months. Not too long, of course. Let the man escape this cruel world.

I like to think that Natsuo reconciled with his brother. The story emphasized that they had a strong bond and implied that Toya was a main source of emotional support and comfort to Natsuo during a time when he felt abandoned and rejected by both parents, as Endeavor was focus on his career and abusing his family, and Rei's energy was focused on protecting Shouto from Endeavor and her own mental health was deteriorating. I'm sure Natsuo had a lot of anger and confusion about Touya's actions as a villain, but I believe they got closure.

It would be nice if the author had confirmed this in some way, seeing as he put so much emphasis on the relationship, but... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's just another writing failure that didn't need to crash and burn but did anyway.

I also hope Touya didn't die in that tube by himself. Hopefully he was able to be held as he died or something. Especially since this second death was supposed to fix the first way he died (alone, unseen), but again, who knows! A major plotline of the story being so open-ended that readers get no closure and no satisfaction from the story... that's what we were left with.

I agree. It's truly all laughable. Shigaraki and Toga will only be remembered by Spinner and their respective hero kids, and neither party has a complete picture of the villains' stories. We're not shown that Spinner learned about his best friend's childhood abuse, and we're not shown if Ochako knew about the quirk counseling and all the childhood trauma that Toga went through. And it's not like Spinner will be let out of prison to make a grave or altar for them. Lol. Despite Deku saying he'll never forget Shigaraki, we're never shown that he's thinking about him or is moved by him in any way besides that "do your best" flashback which wasn't even in context to what Shigiraki would have wanted. Lol. And yeah, Ochako's quirk counseling program was inspired by Toga to prevent more kids from suffering her same fate, but it would be much more impactful if she actually shared this with the public and TALKED about Toga to the public. But no, let's keep Toga's dying heroic action on the down low so that people's perception of her is not challenged and she remains a heinous humanless villain in the annals of history. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's just all one giant superficial, forced ending that feels hollow and disingenuous.

Chapter 431 at least redeemed Shouto's ending for me and gave me some closure on Touya... reassurance that he's remembered and considered even in death, loved and seen unconditionally, which is exactly what Touya wanted after he died on Sekoto Peak.