#they are good parents just bad at parenting

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Four

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️

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Warnings: Pregnancy, Yandere themes, Fem!Reader, and one more that I will not say just be prepared at the end.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You knew Bruce would find out eventually. As much as you liked to pretend he wouldn't you knew. It was only a matter of time until he had noticed what was going on under his roof. You also knew he'd have a bad reaction to it. You just hadn't realized how bad until the day came.

The attic of Wayne manor became your new domain. Surprisingly, it wasn't as dark and gloomy as the rest of the manor.

The light from the dormers filled the space with warm light that was rare to see in a place like Gotham. The old vintage things stored about made it feel like a timeless, but lived in space. No faces of strangers from portraits or the one's you'd pass in the halls in sight. Boxes of photo's and some historical relics were all over the sprawling space.

It truly felt like lives had been lived from the items you found and not just names you where somehow related too.

You primarily came up here search for things for your future nursery. There was a town home in the more stable side of Gotham that you had been eyeing. A charming little place that could use some time, love, and care. But, it had two bedrooms and you could buy it with cash.

Sure, you had wanted to get out of Gotham. Run off back to the childhood home you'd been left to inherit. But, traveling by plane with your constant nausea seemed daunting.

It was probably the worry eating at you. The new parent jitters. Traveling with a baby right after birth? Sounds difficult. Traveling with a toddler? Even worse.

You had to fight the overwhelming feeling of becoming a parent often. To stubborn to give in or give up. Now, your battle with your hormones? That fight was easily lost. Tears were annoying, but you didn't care how much you cried as long as you got what you wanted. Which was your baby boy in your arms and some peace for the both of you.

You had wanted to get out of Gotham. Go back where there was grass and less insanity. But, you mostly wanted stability and a familiar space. Even if you had to make it on your own for a bit.

Though, what you wanted most at the current moment was to stop sneezing. The dust that caught the light from the window and gave the attic an enchanting look was also agitating your nostrils like hell. It was already sensitive as is from pregnancy. However, now each time you sneezed you felt as if your were going to piss your self.

"A-choo! Urgh, so much damn dust…" You grumble to your self as you dig though the delicate vintage model airplanes. You'll have to get Jason you haul this stuff down to your room until you can hire some movers. You plan on holding the cake and the cornbread over his head for a good long while.

As the old saying goes, when you sneeze it usually means someone's thinking about you. Though that thought didn't cross your mind as you kept having to cross your legs and pray every time your nose itched.

Down below in the cave system beneath the manor, someone was listening into on you. Or trying to. He had to be still pretend to be interested in what Tim was showing him.

"We implemented a new system in the BatComputer that Tim programmed. It allows us to detect alien DNA with the sensor range. Including Kryptonian." Bruce was explaining to Clark while Tim tapped away at the keyboard. Less interested in showing off his creation and more suspicious of while Conner was acting so distracted, for lack of a better word.

"So, you're saying we could use this to see if there are other Kryptonians out in space?" Jon asked curiously, looking at the screen with mild interest from where he's lounging next to Damian.

"Possibly one day. But, this is mostly so we can have a better understanding on how much of Earth’s population is actually human." Comes Bruce's pragmatic answer as he stand stoic still, though with a the ever slightest twitch of his lips.

"Another one of your contingency plans incase we’re all slowly replaced with lizard people?" Clark's joking causing a few chuckles that echo mildly in the cave.

"It always tickles me that you guys watch alien sci-fi movies." Dick commented from where he stood, looking like Bruce's second in command, but with better humor and a better smile. Causing another round of chuckles to echo. Though Conner wouldn't include himself in that. Too busy listening to you sneeze from the attic and detecting another noise in the general vicinity. Something that he has to fight narrowing his eyes at while he tires to figure it out.

"I’m assuming you want to run a test with it." With an unsurprised look and years of working the man, Clark turns partially towards Bruce with an almost knowing smirk on his face. By now understanding this was the man's way of showing off his children's accomplishments.

"Being that we’re the only aliens you regularly tolerate." Jon tacks on for good measure

"Tolerate is a strong word." Damian responds with impressive deadpan, not even a twitch of muscle in his face. Though, judging by the mirthful look in his eyes, he only halfway meant it. Tim himself smirked at Damian's comment before turning all his focus on to the BatComputer and running the Biological Program he'd spent months developing.

"We might also have a bet going on how many aliens are in— What the hell?"

"What?"

"There’s four signatures in the manor."

"What do you mean there’s four signatures. We’re testing for Kryptonians."

"Yeah," Tim says sarcastically while he's already moving to locate the extra trace of life. "I'm still counting four. It says right here that there’s four Kryptonians!'

"Pull up the cameras. Now." BY the time the order has left Bruce's mouth all of the manor's live security footage is being pulled up on screen for him to scan with his own eyes.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. No unusual shadows. No misplaced of moving objects. He see's you in the attic, which feels him with fear. Your alone up there and so far away with an unknown anomaly in his home. A home you were suppose to be safe in. "Where’s the signature coming from?"

"… The attic…" Tim says seeing you sneeze on the screen, complete oblivious to the danger and fear everyone was experiencing.

Conner didn’t hesitate. With an unknown signature in the manor your safety was his priority. He didn't even care is Clark or Jon where faster. At that moment, he was just the first to move and the first to react.

No one in the family objected to it either.

Rushing towards the attic with his ears peeled for where the extra signature could have come from, you're in his arms before you could blink. One of the vintage plane models still in your hand as you were rushed form the dust and gentle sunlight of the attic to the cold dark cave below. A shiver running down your spine and as the change in temperature caused your skin to prickle. Already you felt a wave of vertigo hit from the sudden rush of moment.

Causing you to drop the little vintage plan and press a hand against the muscled chest holding you while you took gasping breathes. It was nothing serious, but the sudden shift in altitude and climate had your ears ringing and you eyes struggling to adjust to the shadows and artificial light.

You could feel another, much softer hand touching you in comparison to the strong figure holding you, a slightly soothing noise being made as voices echoed in the room. Or at least you thought is was a room until you realized it was the Bat Cave.

It was very very rare you came down here. You could count on one hand with missing fingers how often you’d been down here.

You’re eyes taking a moment to adjust to the shadows and artificial light as you make out nearly everyone looking at the Bat Computer monitor. Including Bruce's guest.

It's Stephanie that's touching you, her hand just barely having been becoming familiar to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank god, there’s an intruder in the manor. We’re trying to figure out where or who or, hell, even what it is.” She explains, which was nice. You deserved an explanation.

But, more importantly, you glance up to see who was holding you in their arms. Noting with mild surprise that it was Conner. You can’t help giving him a bit of wiry smile. The sudden rush of speed and the strength you could feel made sense. “You can put me down, you know. I ain’t gonna break.”

“No can do. Not after you just gave me a heart attack.” He gives you a shaky smile, completely forgetting the fact that he didn't include any one else in that statement. Just him. You were still to dizzy to catch the specific word yourself as you can faintly hear the discussion of the unknown intruder.

“I can hear an extra heartbeat, but where did the signature go. It vanished as soon as Conner grabbed—“

“The hell is going on?" You can't help asking. Having not been informed of any test as you tried to climb out of Conner's arms. He, however, seemed to have his arms locked tight and they may as well have been steel bars holding you in the air.

You turn towards Clark just as he looks at you with furrowed brows that being to rise almost as fast as he can fly. With a few context clues you piece together what he realized and gave him a narrow look daring to speak.

"Uh… I know where that extra heartbeat is coming from, Bruce. It's doesn't explain the signature. Why would of be Kryptonian…" And, then his eyes go wide as he trails off. It's almost comical to see Superman of all people and creatures with eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as realization hits him. But, you yourself are confused. Surely you being pregnant wasn't that big a deal?

You glance around the room from where your held in Conner's arms. Looking at Stephanie first before the others that knew and the rest that were starting to realize.

An extra heartbeat would make sense. The little bugger that's been fluttering in your abdomen for the past few days with his powerful little kicks would be the reason for that. But, why would--

It's not until you feel yourself being squeezed and everyone turns to look at who is holding you that the slow, slightly rusted gears in your head shift. And, your head moves so fast to look up at the awestruck Conner still holding your ass midair like a crashing airplane carrying precious cargo that you feel another wave of dizziness hit.

"So, it was you! You're the motherfuck--"

"We need to get rid of it." Bruce's voice made you words die in your throat with a choke. All complaints gone as you felt something rush down your spine.

This time it wasn't a chill.

This time it wasn't fear. It's was a good thing Conner was built tough, because the hand you had resting on his chest clawed up as you felt violence bubble in your gut next to your son's gentle fluttering. Faintly you can hear it stutter under neither your palm, but you're not questioning it. You're not even questioning the way his arms seems to curl even more around you are the air leaves your lungs for a different reason this time.

This time you slowly turned towards the man who fucked your mother once and face him with a look that promised you'd tear him apart with your teeth. Even if it killed you.

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Taglist Below:

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A/N: Yeah, sorry to end it on the cliff hanger and unexpectedly like that. I just wanted to convey the anger and the outrage Bruce's reaction caused reader. I struggled with this chapter y'all. Struggled. I rewrote it entirely and changed major plot points, but this has all been flying by the seat of my pants. When I do the AU BatBoys x Pregnant!Reader that will have a lot more planning.

A/N: I made a ko-fi. But, feel free to ignore that. I just wanted Diet Coke. My true vice.

A/N: Don't know when Part Five will come out, but that will be Conner feels and the family's reaction to Reader moving out. I have that roughly drafted.

[dior-luxury]

i JUST saw your reverse kiss and make out fic and i LOVE THEM is it okay for you to do the same for the rest of the cast plssss 💖

Kiss And Makeout *FLIPPED

( ✧ ) ────── parent stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] riddle . ace . deuce . jamil . idia . silver

- [𝐩:𝐬] ~Fluff with a Dash of Heat . Emotional Comfort . Bad Day Comfort (for Riddle, Deuce, Silver, Jamil) . Impulsive Behavior (Ace, Idia, Jamil) . Suggestive Themes . Kissing . Emotional Vulnerability . Anxiety/Insecurity Mention . Possessive Behavior . Flustered/Desperate Behavior . Unexpected Boldness .

Note: I think you guys want me to make a second part... but I don't know 🤭. Alright, your guys' wishes have come true! Here is part two!!! (≧◡≦) ♡ Hope you guys enjoy it like the first one~

Riddle Rosehearts

It had been one of those days. Riddle had been holding it together by the finest thread of willpower and discipline. His prefect duties had dragged longer than expected, a few underclassmen had dared to ignore the Queen’s Law No. 89 about corridor traffic flow, and worst of all, someone spilled rose jam on one of the unbirthday party table linens.

By the time you found him pacing the Rose Garden, cheeks flushed with frustration and lips pressed into a hard line, he was seconds from snapping.

“Riddle,” you called softly.

His head snapped toward you. That stern expression flickered just for a moment. “I don’t have time—”

You took a step closer. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

And that did it. Something broke.

Without a word, he grabbed your hand—firm, but not rough—and began walking. You barely had time to react as he led you down the corridor, past classrooms, past portraits whose eyes seemed far too nosey, and toward a supply closet tucked away behind the alchemy wing. The moment the door shut behind you, he turned the lock with a soft click.

You barely had time to question before he pinned you gently but with urgency against the shelf-lined wall. His eyes flickered with something between anger and desire.

“I need this,” he breathed, his voice strained. “You.”

He kissed you like he was trying to drown out the world. No rules. No order. Just the rush of lips on lips, and the way his hands found your waist like he was anchoring himself. Riddle wasn’t usually this desperate—not this untethered—but when your fingers tangled into his hair and you kissed him back just as fiercely, a low, almost uncharacteristic noise escaped from his throat.

One of the brooms clattered from the shelf beside you, but neither of you paid it any mind.

Minutes felt like moments. He eventually pulled back, forehead pressed to yours, breath shallow. His usually perfect uniform was wrinkled, his collar askew, hair a mess.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That was… unbecoming.”

But you smiled, brushing a thumb over the pink hue of his cheek. “It was perfect.”

His eyes softened. “Only you can calm me like this.”

Ace Trappola

Ace had been flirting with you all day. That cocky smirk, the sly touches when no one was looking, the way he leaned way too close during lunch and whispered, “You’re making it real hard to focus, y’know.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “You never focus anyway.”

“Yeah, but now I have a good excuse.”

He’d been plotting this. You could tell by the glint in his eye—Ace wasn’t exactly subtle. So when you walked past an empty classroom on your way to your dorm and felt someone tug you by the wrist and yank you inside, it wasn’t a surprise. Not really. What was surprising was just how fast he shut the door, turned the lock, and kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in months.

“Missed you,” he mumbled between kisses, pressing you back against a desk. “Even though I literally saw you like an hour ago.”

You laughed, breath hitching as he nipped at your bottom lip. “You’re such a idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” His grin turned into another kiss, deeper this time, his hands sliding along your hips like he couldn’t get close enough.

He tasted like cinnamon gum and just a little trouble.

One of his hands slid under your blazer, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt while his other hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head to kiss you better. He kissed like a tease—playful, slow, then suddenly intense enough to leave you dizzy.

“You drive me crazy, y’know that?” he whispered against your lips. “Been thinking about this all day. Like, do you try to distract me or are you just naturally irresistible?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, pulling him in for another kiss.

He did. But not without a smug little chuckle rumbling in his chest.

Eventually, when the risk of someone catching you got just a little too real, Ace pulled back, panting and flushed. He grinned down at you, wiping a smudge of gloss from your lip with his thumb.

“We should probably go before Crowley shows up and gives me detention again.”

You smirked. “Worth it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce tried. He really did. He studied for the test. He kept his nose clean. He even avoided Ace’s latest dumb scheme. But the world had other plans.

Professor Vargas announced a surprise pop quiz—on a unit they barely covered. Then a potion exploded in his face during lab. And just when he thought he could walk it off, he overheard a couple of older students talking about how “guys like him never amount to anything.”

By the time you found him hunched on a bench outside the classroom building, he wasn’t saying much. Just… clenching his fists like he was one second from punching the sky.

“Deuce,” you said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, and for a second, his tough-guy mask cracked. His eyes were red. From smoke? Anger? You weren’t sure.

“I—I’m fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “I just—needed air. It’s dumb.”

You crouched in front of him. “What happened?”

And that did it. The floodgates opened.

He told you everything—rushed and frustrated, hands flailing as he vented. “I try so hard, but it’s like… one thing goes wrong and suddenly I’m that guy again. The delinquent. The screw-up. No one thinks I’ll ever change.”

You grabbed his hand. “I do.”

That’s when his expression shifted. Like you’d said the one thing he didn’t realize he needed to hear. And without another word, he stood up, pulled you to your feet, and led you quickly—not even glancing around—into the nearest empty classroom.

The door barely shut before he turned around, eyes stormy and locked on you.

“I… I just—can I—?”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. You kissed him.

At first, it was soft. A tentative press of lips, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed this comfort. But when you wrapped your arms around him, pulled him closer, he melted. Like all the tension had been clinging to his muscles and finally let go.

His hands found your back, sliding up slowly, as if grounding himself. He kissed you like it meant something. Like it saved him.

“I’m really lucky,” he murmured, forehead against yours. “To have you. To have… this.”

You smiled, brushing hair from his face. “And I’ll always be here to remind you—you’re not that guy anymore.”

“Not with you around,” he whispered, kissing you again—deeper this time, slower. More sure.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had been quiet all day. Too quiet.

You’d noticed it during lunch. The way he stirred his food absently, how his gaze lingered on the horizon, thoughtful and dark. Kalim had been extra excitable, and Jamil had worn that polite mask of patience, but you could tell—he was simmering underneath.

So when you caught his eye across the courtyard later, that gaze wasn’t passive anymore. It was intense. Hungry.

And when he wordlessly gestured for you to follow him, something electric sparked in your chest.

You didn’t ask where he was going. You just trailed behind him as he glided through the halls, silent but purposeful, until he reached a storage closet near the gymnasium. He opened the door, looked back at you with something unreadable, and when you stepped inside, the door shut behind you.

The dim space felt thick with heat.

“Bad day?” you asked quietly.

Jamil didn’t answer.

He pressed you back against the door so fast your breath caught. His lips were on yours a heartbeat later—silencing any thoughts you might’ve had with a kiss that was slow, dangerous, and completely intoxicating.

“I needed something,” he whispered between kisses, voice low and smooth like velvet over a blade. “Something that’s mine.”

His hands were steady, but his kiss was anything but. He kissed you like he was unraveling. Like all the things he had to hide and control every day had finally broken the surface. His body caged yours in, not out of aggression, but out of sheer desperation to feel something real—you.

You could feel the tension radiating off him. He touched you like he didn’t trust himself to go further, but couldn’t stop. One hand braced above your head, the other gripping your waist as if letting go meant returning to that carefully curated mask he wore every day.

“You always make me feel like I don’t have to keep pretending,” he murmured into your neck. “Like I can just be.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, whispering into the curve of his jaw. “Then don’t pretend right now. Just be here.”

He kissed you again, slower this time—full of gratitude and longing. His breathing slowed, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I should get back,” he muttered reluctantly. “Kalim’ll start searching if I’m gone too long.”

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Then let him look. Just a little longer?”

Jamil exhaled a quiet laugh, a rare, genuine sound.

“Yeah… just a little longer.”

Idia Shroud

Idia had been spiraling all morning.

The new project in Ignihyde Lab glitched hard, Ortho almost got accidentally reprogrammed, and to top it off, he overheard some random students talking about you—how “someone like you” was wasting time on a shut-in like him. That shouldn’t have mattered. But it got under his skin. It festered.

He spent the next two hours in a haze, typing too hard, muttering under his breath, eyes flicking to his tablet screen like your name might just pop up and make him feel okay again.

Then he saw you walking toward the main building. And instead of retreating like he usually would, Idia stood up, ran a hand through his electric-blue hair, muttered a string of curses about how this was “like, peak out-of-character behavior,” and bolted to intercept you.

“Whoa—Idia?” you blinked as he practically teleported in front of you. His hair glitched from neon blue to a deep pink.

“I—uh—I need you. I mean—not like that! I mean yes, like that, but—just—come with me before I short-circuit or die or implode—whatever happens first.”

You could barely laugh before he’d grabbed your wrist, nervously leading you through the winding back halls of the science wing. Your heart pounded with curiosity and adrenaline. And when he stopped in front of a rarely used equipment storage room, unlocked it with trembling fingers, and stepped inside with you—oh. You knew what this was.

The second the door shut behind you, he turned to face you. Pink light flickered wildly in his hair.

“I-I don’t know how to do this kind of thing,” he admitted, words rushed. “But I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day and I feel like my brain’s doing that ‘blue screen of death’ thing because—holy crap—look at you.”

He hesitated. But you stepped closer, brushed your hand over his hoodie-clad chest, and smiled.

“Then stop thinking.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you like he was afraid he’d glitch right through you. Soft at first—shy, hesitant, stuttering against your lips like a program still loading—but then something changed. His hand slid around your waist, and he groaned softly against your mouth as he leaned in, lips parting with yours like he’d forgotten everything but this moment.

The taste of cola from his favorite energy drink lingered faintly on his tongue. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, surprisingly warm despite how jittery he was, and he tilted your head like he was learning how to really kiss you.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, breathless.

“It’s perfect,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his.

He smiled—a real one. Soft. Rare. Beautiful.

“Achievement unlocked: Most Unbelievable Moment Ever.”

Silver

Silver usually wore serenity like a second skin—calm, gentle, a touch sleepy. But sometimes, sometimes, something inside him cracked through that dreamy exterior. Especially when he was exhausted, emotional… or desperate for you.

You noticed it after a long, grueling day of training with Lilia. Silver had taken on too much—again. You caught him nodding off in the garden, sword still in hand, posture rigid even in sleep. When you knelt beside him and gently touched his shoulder, his eyes snapped open—cloudy, tired, but focused on you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough. “Come with me.”

You barely had time to respond before he stood, took your hand, and started leading you. His fingers were warm but firm. There was something off—different. Not bad. Just… intense.

“Silver?” you asked softly.

“I had a dream,” he murmured. “You were in it. And when I woke up, you were here. And I… couldn’t tell if it was still a dream.”

The hallway was quiet. He led you into an unused classroom, probably one of the knight training theory rooms, filled with old armor and worn-down desks. He locked the door behind him.

Then he turned to you, his eyes darkened with exhaustion and longing.

“Let me stay here a while,” he whispered. “With you. Like in the dream.”

Before you could reply, his lips were on yours—slow, deep, full of emotion. It wasn’t rushed. It was aching. Like every part of him had been waiting for this. His hands were gentle as they cupped your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he kissed you like someone who dreamed of this moment too many times to waste it now.

His breath hitched when you kissed him back, and his hand slid up your back, burying into your hair, holding you there like he needed to make sure you were real.

“I’m always slipping between sleep and wake,” he murmured into your skin. “But this? This is the clearest I’ve felt all day.”

You felt your heart squeeze at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. His forehead rested against yours, and you swore you saw the faintest smile curve his lips.

“If this is a dream,” he added, eyes fluttering shut, “don’t wake me up.”

[loovser]

better than cake

synopsis: during thanksgiving, you had an argument with tommy. thankfully, ellie is there to make you feel better.

wc: 1,7k

cw: nsfw, dom!ellie x sub!reader, fingering + oral (r!receiving), praise, cursing, licking/sucking fingers, use of pet names (doll, baby), brief mentions of weed. 18+ mdni smut.

the room is quiet. you couldn’t even hear the muffled voices anymore — it’s like they were never there to begin with. it finally brings you the peace and relief you were looking for.

today it’s thanksgiving. it’s a day when you are supposed to be grateful and enjoy your friends and family’s company. and you tried to. tommy and maria had invited joel, ellie, jesse, dina and their parents over to your house, for lunch.

you dressed up nicely, putting on clothes that you really liked. you felt good about it. you were having a good time, even managed to sit next to ellie. she is one of your dearest friends and… well. you have a huge crush on her.

but then, it happened. tommy wanted you to stop going on patrols and he brought it up during lunch. you engaged in a heated argument with him, telling him how it wasn’t fair. you get it, he was worried about you. but there isn’t any other way of learning how to deal with the world if you don’t really experience it.

however, he said something that hurt you deeply. about how you would get yourself and others killed because of your recklessness. fighting back the tears, you excused yourself from lunch and ran upstairs, to your room.

which is where you are until now, hungry and lonely. but you needed some time alone. it frustrates you, really, how one bad decision during patrol has been taunting you for so long. you’ve learnt from it. he is your father and should have some more faith in you.

a soft knock on the door makes you snap out of your thoughts. you sigh, thinking it is tommy. “look, dad, i’m not in the mood-“

“it’s ellie.” she cuts you off. you can almost hear the smirk in her voice. it makes you wonder how much raspier it could get.

“it’s unlocked. come in”

and she does. her auburn hair, which was half tied up, is now loose. it falls prettily, in a mullet.

“you thought i was your daddy?” she teases, her smirk getting wider when you blush.

“shut up.” you laugh.

then you see it — the little plate in her hands. there’s a slice of peach cake on it. your favorite. your mom always bakes it for thanksgiving.

“did she tell you to bring it to me?” you ask, curiously.

“who? maria?” you nod and she chuckles. “no. i know you like it, so… i brought it.”

it hits you like a train. the way she says it so genuinely. like it was natural for her to do so, to know you so well. you smile. she smiles back, getting closer to where you are.

your room isn't very big — cozy and cute, some would say it suits you perfectly. it has some posters of things you like. a big, comfortable bed. a vanity that you love, some book shelves.

there were plenty of times in which you and ellie would get high there, together. it was a secret you would share. no one else knew you smoked weed and honestly? you just liked doing it with her.

she puts the plate on your lap, her hand brushing on your thigh, making you shiver. thankfully, she doesn’t feel it through the fabric of your clothes.

“since you didn’t really have anything. this is the only thing i could bring, so eat it.” she murmurs, almost shyly.

it’s cute when she does something like this to you. she always gets flustered and avoids your gaze — just like she is doing now.

“have you tried it yet?” you ask, grabbing the fork and eating a piece of the cake.

“no. you know i’m not really into sweets.” she shrugs.

the peach is so fresh that when you bite into it, the juice runs down your chin.

“careful there…” ellie says, her voice a little rougher.

when you look up at her, she is already staring at you. there’s something in her gaze, something familiar. something that makes a shiver crawl down your spine.

she leans closer, thumb brushing your chin, wiping the juice away — and then she licks it clean.

you almost gasp, but you manage to keep it together.

“i thought you weren’t into sweets?” you smirk, teasingly.

“smartass. there are a few that i really enjoy.” her lips quiver as she says that.

“you haven’t tried the cake to know if you like it or not…” you insist and she laughs.

“you are right, i haven’t. should i?” she grabs the little plate from your lap, hands lingering on your thighs for a little longer than they should.

“yeah… you might like it” it’s all you manage to say, enticed by the way she’s looking at you. like she’s hungry, or even… starved.

“there’s another way i could taste it, you know?” her voice is low as she puts the cake away. you know what she means. but you want to hear it from her.

“which way would that be, ellie?” her green eyes suddenly darken.

“why would i tell you when i can show you?” it’s all you hear before her lips crash into yours.

they move hungrily, confidently. like she thought about it before, more than once. like she knew how she wanted to kiss you. and you give the same want back to her, your lips following hers just as needy.

her hand tugs at your hair and you moan into the kiss, which seems to fuel her even more. she sits beside you, thigh brushing yours, and you swear your heart skips. then she tugs you gently, guiding you into her lap without breaking it. it’s rough and passionate, like you’ve both been keeping those feelings buried and now that they are free, the longing and desire are being poured into it without hesitation.

your fingers tangle into her hair as her tongue explores your mouth with fervour, her own hands traveling down your back and gripping your ass. you can already feel the heat pooling in your panties and it makes you wonder if she’s in the same state that you are. though when she lets out a soft whimper against your tongue, you can tell that she is.

and when her hands squeeze your ass, you gasp. you feel she smirking at the sound, as she breaks the kiss to catch her breath.

“you were right. i like it.” she teases, her forehead against yours.

you chuckle, panting. your breaths mingle and everything feels too hot. but it gets worse when she moves her kisses to your neck. you feel like you might combust at any moment.

“you could taste something else…” you murmur, voice shaky, already half-lost in the way her tongue flicks on your sensitive skin, how her teeth graze against it. nipping, then biting. marking you as hers.

“oh, yeah? is that so?”

she trails kisses down to your collarbone as you confirm, caressing her scalp. “mhm”

“what is it? use your words, doll.” she bites harder in your skin.

“els, please… eat me out.” there’s no time to be embarrassed about it, not when she’s already taking your clothes off and settling in between your legs.

“so pretty… especially when you beg.” her breath is fanning over your cunt and it almost makes you squirm in your spot.

she teases, getting closer to where you need her the most. you know she wants to hear you beg again, by the way she shoots her eyebrows up, grinning.

“please… ellie, please.” you give in.

she slides a finger through your folds, letting out an approving hum. “so wet. all for me, yeah?”

you nod eagerly “yes. all for you.”

with that, she licks a long stripe from your soaked entrance all the way to your clit. you let out a whimper, melting against her tongue. “fuck, you taste so good, baby” she purrs. you can’t take your eyes off her and neither can she. she dives into your pussy, making it impossible for you to talk while she sucks and kisses you. like this is the best meal she’s ever had. she’s too good at it, it’s unfair.

all you can do is relish the feeling of her tongue on your sensitive flesh, sucking your clit and your folds. your hands find her hair, pushing her harder into you, drawing a moan from her mouth into your cunt.

“oh, shit, els! don’t stop!” you moan out, having her right where you want her and she groans, sliding a finger inside you.

“won’t stop until you cum for me. doing so good, baby.” she coos.

your hips grind against her face and her fingers before you can even think about it, seeking your release. when she slides another finger, all that leaves your mouth are whimpers, cries and incoherent words.

“thaaaaat’s it,” she says, pussydrunk. all she can focus on is tasting and pleasuring you “use me. show me how good it feels.” everything she says makes you closer and closer to the edge. no one has ever fucked you like this before, you can’t even talk properly.

she curls her fingers, hitting that spongy spot. you can see stars as she turns you into a babble mess. “can’t talk, hm? feels that good? fucking take it.”

her tone is teasing and demanding. it makes you crazy.

“i’m-“ you clench around her and she feels it, her own thighs pressing together, unconsciously.

“i know, baby.” she cuts you off, pumping her fingers harder as she sucks your clit. “cum f’me, i got you.”

and you do. that familiar knot in your stomach snaps as your orgasm washes over you. her name leaving your lips like a prayer as she rides out your high.

You're still breathless when she pulls her fingers out, leaving you clenching around nothing. before you can say anything, she sucks them clean.

“that’s much better than peach cake.” she murmurs, as she presses a kiss to your inner thigh, lingering there as your breathing slows. you laugh, light-headed and aching, as she curls up beside you.

i knooooow we are not anywhere near thanksgiving but i love the whole vibe it brings so i just had to do it! hope you like it 💘

[teddypines]

Mother's Dinner Drama

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Summary: Family dinner dind't turn out like it should when Y/N's mother starts to get involved. Warnings: Mother issues, maybe a bit of trauma. Angst with hurtfull words. Little violence. little dissociation. Sweating.

Batmom!Reader x Batfam. Batmom!Reader x Bruce Wayne. Use of Y/N for Reader, Fem!Reader, Use of she/her pronounce.

Notes: Was feeling the angst a little to much. And thank you all for the great comments and reposts on my stories. It means a lot to me that you all enjoy the stories. Words: 2473

Picture from @lightningstrikes-art credits to them.

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Bruce knew of Y/n's troubled Relationship with her mother, Sharon. He had seen it over the years. How she would belittle and control Y/n over the littlest things. It took some time to fully see the true extent of it all, but he quickly realised that the love Sharon had was conditional. Unlike the love he used to receive from his own mother. The love he was trying to give Y/N and the children.

He also knew that Y/N still loved her mother even if it was conditional most of the time. He knew she tried to reach out, to bond or just be at peace. Sadly most of the attempts went unsuccessful. Over time things did change since Y/N got to see how unconditional love was really like from Bruce and she had to focus on the growing family. So less time for big family meetings. Which neither of them minded, it gave Y/N time to heal a little.

Y/N learned over time, and with a little therapy, how to take the good with the bad and that most of her mothers shit came from a place of no control and the belief that the world revolved around them. With this she tried to be a better mother to their children. She didn't yell when something broke or got spilled. She didn't lie or use cheap tactics to get her way. didn't manipulate the situation to her will or made the children feel bad. She gave them what they never got.

It was one of the somewhat regular dinners that Y/N's parents had with the Wayne’s. Of course Sharon was being Sharon. Talking, just to talk and hear her own voice. Telling the boys what to do and what not. Giving off this fake consurne, maybe it was really her worrying, but it all came from a place that would only benefit her.

Things were going as they were going with a big family like theirs. The boy's set the table as Alfred helped Y/N with the last touches for dinner. This is where things went south. 

Sharon walked into the kitchen, having nothing better to do. “Do you two need any help with anything? I could bring something to the table already or mix the dressing in the salad?” 

“No thanks, mom, we have everything under control here. If you want you can ask Bruce If he needs help with picking a wine.” Y/N answered as she handed Alfred the last two bowls with strawberries and cream for dessert later. “Are you sure? It doesn't look like you have it under control.” Sharon responded as she started to look for a fork. Once the fork was found she went straight into one of the salads and took a bite. “Hmm, it needs more mustard dressing.” she said while already starting her search for the dressing.

Y/n looked at her mother with a numbing feeling already growing inside her chest. “Mom, we are fine and don't need help. The salad is fine, if you want more dressing you can add it once you have some on your plate. Damian doesn’t like the strong taste of mustard so the amount of dressing is less as a base.” She tried to get her mother to see a little sense with her words. Sharon however didn’t listen and took the salad bowl into the dining room.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Y/n asked, trying to catch up with her. “I'm just going to fix the salad sweetie.” Sharon answered as she looked back at her daughter. This made Y/N worry a little more. All because she knew the patrons, patrons Bruce told her were not normal to know. “Mom, stop!” Y/n snapped as she saw their mother reach for the dressing. “Don't put more dressing into that salad!”

Sharon heard Y/n but didn't listen anyway. Why would she, she was going to make this salad better. Putting a whole lot of dressing into the salad and started mixing it in. “There we go, now try it, it's much better like this. You can finally taste something.” She said with a smile, feeling rather proud of herself. She however quickly saw the mad expression on Y/n's face but didn't take it as a hint that she did something wrong. “Owh, don't look so sour sweetie, we all make mistakes.”

“No mom! I told you not to put more dressing into that salad! Why didn't you listen?!” Y/n asked, raising her voice a little in upset. She didn't care about the dressing for themselves but for Damian. Is her mother really that insensitive? 

“To make it taste better sweetie, it was rather bland.” Sharon answered, not seeing the problem that was so clearly there in front of her. 

“It's supposed to be like that mom! Damian hates mustard dressing, I warned You about this. It's bland for a reason!” The little scene slowly turned into a bigger one as Alfred and the boys got into the dinning room with more food they wanted to put on the table. “I was just helping.” Sharon answered. “I didn't know Damian hates mustard dressing. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Mom, I told you that not five minutes ago so you wouldn't put the dressing in! And I didn't ask for your help! I told you we were okay.” Y/n snapped. She was done with this, it wasn’t just about her anymore, Damian got dragged into it and she didn’t want her mother to do the same to her kids. It took everything inside them not to explode with anger. “You know what, it’s fine. I guess you just have to tell Damian he can’t have any of the salad.” Y/N sounded rather toxic. A hand running through her hair. They tensed up, which only got worse when Sharon reached out to them. 

“I’m getting the napkins I guess..” Tessa said as she turned away from her mother. leaving the dining room as quick as she could. “What’s going on?” Bruce asked as he walked into the dinning room with the wine that matched the steak. Seeing how Alfred and the boy’s were looking over at Sharon. “What did you do?!” Bruce asked Sharon, rage already boiling inside him. Sharon didn’t answer at first. So Bruce handed Dick the wine and stepped closer to Sharon. “What. Did. You. Do?” His eyes spitting fire.

“I just fixed the salad and Y/N flipped out. It's only some extra mustard dressing, I'm sure Damian wouldn't mind.” Sharon answered.  “Ts, I do mind, Sharon. Mom didn’t tell you not to do it just because.” Damian rolled his eyes. He was done with his ‘grandmother's’ shit. “I'm gonna find mom.” He said before pushing the bowl with potato wages into Jason’s hands. Not caring if he would keep balance before storming off. Sharon looked a little nervous when her husband walked into the dinning room. “What’s wrong with Damian? He looks like he wants to murder someone.”

Everyone turns to Andrew, making the man a little nervous because of all the tension. “Okay who died? and where is my Sweetpea?” Andrew asked as he looked around the room. Once his eyes fell on Sharon he didn’t need anymore answers. “Sharon what did you do?”

“I was just trying to help! Y/N/N didn’t like it and got mad at me.” Sharon answered, luckily Andrew knew his wife and knew Y/N wouldn’t just get mad. “She is just overreacting and overly sensitive about Damian not liking mustard.” She added shortly after, making Dick and Jason even more angry. Andrew sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He was disappointed in his wife once again. “Sharon, you are so out of your mind right now. This is really insensitive of you and i can’t believe you did this. I hate saying this, but you are just like your own mother.” Those words of course hit like a ton of bricks for Sharon. 

Sharon gasped at Andrew’s words before slapping him. This made everyone gasp and Dick quickly walked over to check on Andrew. “What is wrong with you?” He hissed to Sharon. Bruce however was quiet, too quiet. He walked over to Sharon with a purpose, almost like an animal on a hunt. He grabbed Sharon by her arm and walked to the entrance. shuffling her coat and bag into her arms before shuffling her out the door. Jason throws Sharon’s shoes out of the door right after. “and don’t come back!” He yelled.

Jason looked up at Bruce, seeing the rage still present. “Go check on mom and Damian please. I'll help Dick, Tim and Alfred with gramps.” Bruce didn’t say anything to Jason’s words, but he did give Jason a proud smile before going to look for his wife and youngest son. 

<------------------------------------------------>

Bruce found his wife and youngest son in one of the lounge rooms, both cuddled up on the couch. With a sigh of relief Bruce walked over to the couch and sat down next to Y/N. “Love? Starlight?” Bruce ran a hand over Y/N’s head and down her back. Y/N and Damian both leaned against Bruce. “Hey baby bird, did you protect momma for me?” Bruce asked Damian, knowing his youngest would always protect Y/N especially with the way she protected and loved Damian. 

“Momma needed some space, but not alone space.” Damian answered as he leaned against his father. He too tried to comfort Y/N, but he felt how closed off his mom was right now. He knew she was just trying to stand up to her own mother, knowing a little about that himself, but it hurt him to see her so hurt. Bruce ran a hand over Damian’s hair. “That is very thoughtful of you Dami.”

The three of them sat there for a few minutes in silence. Damian and Bruce didn’t know how to reach Y/N right now. Bruce knew his wife and knew she was dissociating right now. He didn’t like it when she did that, but he understood why she did it now. Especially after what happened with her mother. It was hard for him, but right now he had to wait. 

“I don’t get it… That she would do this to me and my siblings, yes… But to her grandchildren… Why would she not listen to me when I say a child is sensitive to something… Why would she not listen to a mother when she is one herself!? when she knows how it is to not be listened to too!” Y/N started, first she was saddened by it all, but it quickly turned into anger. "WHY?!"

Tears quickly formed in her eyes. “why wouldn’t she listen to me?... Why would…” Y/N stopped as she was pulled into Bruce’s lap. “Because your mother is not the mother you are. She is a mother, but not a mother by heart like you are, love.” He answered in an attempt to sooth his wife. He whipped away her tears and kissed her forehead. “You fought for your son, something Sharon would never do. You would go against anyone and everyone, your mother wouldn't, that is what narcissistic people do. She would manipulate a situation to her will, something you would never even think about.” 

Bruce was right about those things, both Y/N and Damian knew that. “I know it’s hard when your own mother is not the mother you wish and crave she was. But we can’t pick our mothers, just the mother or father we want to be to our own children. You are a wonderful mother Y/N/N, a mother with a big loving heart and I am so so proud that you stood up to your own mother for Damian.” Y/N cried into Bruce’s chest at those lovefilled words. Words that made her feel like she did the right thing, that she did indeed was a good mother and not being pathetic or overreacting. Damian looked away. His father’s words hit him a little too, but he was going to hide that it did. 

Y/N sniffed her nose after a moment and whipped her eyes. “I’m okay, for now, i can be nice for dinner. I don’t want anyone to wait even longer.” She said, determined to not ruin the night even further. She was about to pull away and stand up, only to be held back by Bruce. “Love, don’t push yourself. Everyone is okay with waiting, they are mostly just worried about you. Besides Alfred and you are masters at reheating food, we can wait, truly.”

<------------------------------------------------->

In the end Y/N and Damian joined everyone again after calming down a bit. Bruce quickly went to his office so he could contact his lawyer, wanting nothing more than to help Andrew divorce Sharon. 

Everyone helped with getting dinner ready once more, the overdressed salad washed down and in the compost bin. Everything was reheated just right by Alfred’s magic hands and Y/N made sure the cold meals were not bad or too warm. The boy’s finished setting the table and Andrew sat down as everyone worked. He didn’t like it but Y/N told him to, he just had one of the biggest fights with his wife and was going to prepare for a divorce. He needed a little break. 

Dinner itself was wonderful, filled with laughter and a warm loving glow going around the room as everyone enjoyed the food.

“Is the salad okay?” Y/N asked Damian once she saw him take a few bites of one of the other salads that were made. She was still a little worried after the previous events. “Yes, momma, the salad is perfect.” Damian answered with a big smile on his face. appreciating the concern she showed for him. Something he loved about her, something that really made her his mother. Made her their mother. Y/N gave Damian a soft smile, glad the salad was to his liking. Glad all the food was to everyone’s liking. 

The older boy’s were happy to see their mother back to her usual self. This was their mother, the person who meant the most to them. the person who was there when their own mother’s weren’t. The person who loved them no matter what they would do. Their comfort and home.

Bruce grabbed Y/N’s hand underneath the table and gave her a smile. “You look beautiful, love. Like a queen.” He complimented her before lifting her hand. giving it a gentle kiss. “A queen who is nothing without her king.” Y/N answered with a big smile on her face. This was home.

[hedwig221b]

Hi! I love ur recommendations so much and I know u did a feral Derek rec but I was wondering if u had any good feral Stiles u have in mind? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Hi 💕 Here you go!

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

In this Darkness (It's You I Hear) by Kedreeva

Deucalion bites Stiles on the way out of town, and Derek finds him in an unexpected condition….

Ready or Not by spaceprincessem

Ready or not here I come “Is it him?” The man whispered to the woman standing next to him, a gleeful smile on his face. “Is that-” “Void?” Stiles asked. Derek took a shuddering breath. Stiles no longer sounded broken or pleading. His tone was cold, cruel, calculating. “Void.” The woman repeated with a small nod of her head. Stiles' smirk widened now, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Dragon my Heart by Armybrat26

Stiles goes missing for three months. Kidnapped, tortured and suddenly realizing he's not fully human, Derek and the others find him. The only thing is, his mind isn't exactly what it used to be.

Duumvirate by Effra

There's a connection there, right from the start. But the bond that they cannot understand when they are barely more than children, becomes crucial to them both when fate takes an unexpected turn. Stiles has been bitten. And he's an Alpha.

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Only You Can Calm Me Down by AMatchInWater

Stiles turns into a fox after the Nogitsune leaves him and he thinks that Derek is his Alpha and not Scott. With Derek having left for South America with Cora, Stiles feels separated from not only his pack but his mate and goes feral. Of course Derek immediately comes back when the sheriff calls him and demands he come fix Stiles. It isn't until he's back in Beacon Hills that he sees just what he needs to fix.

Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants

He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing. There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him. OR - Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles

[jaylaxies]

TEASER: CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, mentions of fighting, blood, more to be added!

WC: 15k words (estimated).

TEASER WC: 1654 words.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm back with a jeno fic (oh finally) i was and still am too invested in writing this, i hope you guys will enjoy it! send an ask or comment to be added! <33 (make sure to have your age visible on your blog! blank blogs will not be added to the tl). ps. happy jeno day <3

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[porcelainbirdss]

the wrong neighbor

summary: after losing your job, you figured a brief escape to the countryside might offer a semblance of peace — or at least a new outlook. alas fate, with its usual flair for wickedness, had other plans. it handed you a new challenge in the form of a neighbor so annoying, his entire existence felt like a joke at your expense.

cw: fem!reader, modern au, fluff, brief mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, slight enemies to lovers but honestly reader is just stubborn, so it’s kind of one-sided, relationship not established (but lovey-dovey still) || wc: 16k

you scrutinized the keys of your 'new' home, which now dangled on the carabiner — you glared down at them, as if their mere existence somehow managed to personally offend you.

there were three facts you could easily discern: you got fired from your job (and maybe it was for the better, because you hated it). the house on the countryside in which you were supposed to temporarily reside in surely looked like a ruin, and your suitcases were so over-stuffed, you barely managed to close them.

oh, and Bubbles was wailing so loudly in the carrier, you were already starting to feel bad for the cat. well, it’s not like you didn’t share its lament — if you could, you’d cry along with the pet.

unfortunately, your woes would have to be put aside now, because the sight of your new place started to steadily appear on the horizon. thank gods, you somehow managed to reach the countryside without your gas running so low you’d have to call for roadside assistance — or a worse scenario, with you pushing the car away from the uneven road.

as you parked beside the slightly crooked, wired fence, you began to wonder whether this whole charade really was a good idea. your decision to take rather long vacations in the countryside was made on a whim — upon losing your job, you descended on a downward spiral, ultimately thinking you definitely needed to reconnect with nature.

everything was going smoothly — you asked your parents for the keys, informed your friends of the upcoming departure (for how long, you weren’t sure), packed and got into your car as if it was the simplest course of action. only halfway through the rather long distance, as you finally drove into the mountainous area, a realization hit you — your knowledge was basically zero. nonexistent.

how do you even live on a countryside? are there necessities, or will you have to drive out into town for everything? how will you deal with the bugs, and the deep silence of night? is the house of your parents, which they bought so long ago, later on moving to the city, still intact? or maybe vandalized?

you were aware of the fact they kept on checking up on the place from time to time, but hey — that’s a village. what if there’s a big nest of wasps located somewhere by the balcony you briefly remember through the blurry memories of a young girl? or — or what if the water doesn’t run? or, since the village is practically hugged by the mountains, what if you stumble across a bear?!

well, you doubted that, because you had no plans of venturing into the forest — but still.

a huff of exasperation escaped your lips as you turned off the engine, quickly pocketing your carabiner and turning to see if Bubbles was alright — the cat seemed fine, now a little bit calmer, as if it sensed you finally reached the destination. you knew your pet wasn’t especially fond of road trips — same goes for you, so it was a relief to open the door of the vehicle, and step outside.

you stretched your slightly stiff limbs, thinking any longer in that car, and i’d go insane. surprisingly, the house looked fairly well-maintained. the lush grass was covered with weeds, and wildflowers, but nothing else was alarming enough to cause you distress. it was really fortunate, because you already had a plenty on your plate, and dealing with any damage would surely push you to have a breakdown in the middle of that sandy road.

with a new-found resolve, you opened the gate, wincing at the loud creak it made upon being moved for the first time in forever. you skipped over the cobblestone steps, unlocking the door — the space inside was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it matched what little you could recall from your childhood days, when your parents would take you to see the house.

they always said it would belong to you — and as a young girl, you never failed to cheer in response, excited to move in once you get older. well, you were all grown now, and upon retrospection, you don’t know what was so appealing to you about living in the countryside — not many opportunities, limited access to most shops or entertainments, vast fields and forests with nothing to do.

but it’s not like you’ll stay there forever, after all. you just came for a quick visit — two or three months, as long as your savings last you — april will pass, then may, and towards the end of june, when summer starts, you’ll be gone. yes, that’s definitely what you’ll do, so there’s no point in dwelling on how boring it could be. you came here to relax, and gather your disarrayed thoughts, not to seek for a new life-path.

once you were done inspecting the whole building, you stepped outside, mentally preparing yourself for the burden of tugging all of your suitcases inside, and then upstairs — a mere thought of that made your determination falter. as for Bubbles… perhaps it would be better to let the cat snooze in your car for now. you didn’t want the little critter to tangle between your feet as you fought with the baggage — anyway, the temperature outside was still low, so you wouldn’t have to worry about the cat overheating.

as you opened the car trunk, ready to wrestle with the weight of your luggage, a rather loud, but friendly voice snapped you out of your deep reverie.

you barely managed to hold back a frown.

"hey!" the man called, and you glanced up, your eyes meeting with two bright-blue hues, already crinkling in the corners as he beamed at you. "are you the owner of this house?"

what do you think?, you wanted to say, but decided it would be better to not make any enemies from the start. you were never too big on people — always keeping to yourself, secure in the small circle of friends you made while working at your former job. still, you weren’t in the city now, and you were completely on your own — so perhaps snarling at the stranger who greeted you with such a cordial expression would be a bad idea.

no matter that something about his overly-kind demeanor irked you.

you studied his rather tall frame, taking note of the slightly old-fashioned button-down shirt he wore, its sleeves rolled up above his elbows, exposing the muscular arms. seriously, was he crazy? if not for your jacket, you’d be freezing, your teeth chattering from the cold. "yeah, that’s me." you answered briefly, trying to force the corners of your lips upwards.

his smile only widened as he strolled closer to you, and you wondered what got him so excited. "oh, is that true?" he asked eagerly, allowing himself to lean on the side of your car, "i saw some people visiting the house, but it was so rare, i actually thought no one would ever move in."

"i’m not moving in," you corrected, trying not to grimace at how casual he was acting, "i’m on vacation. don’t plan on lingering for too long."

the man’s expression seemed to falter, just slightly. "really? such a pity, then. and here i was, thinking i got myself a neighbor." he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

oh. he is your neighbor, it would seem. well, it is only logical looking at the way he suddenly emerged from gods know where — immediately jumping to your side, washing you over with questions and small-talk. still, the thought of having someone like him, as a person living next doors was… excruciating.

you let out a sigh, attempting to hold up your polite voice. "you live there?" you gestured with your head towards the building, internally hoping you were wrong.

"yes!" the man affirmed, outstretching his palm towards you, "by the way, i completely forgot to introduce myself. ah, where are my manners?" he laughed, a little abashedly now. "i’m Phainon."

great — just great. your place was a semi-detached house, so not only was he your neighbor, but he resided in a home practically glued to yours, a singular wall being the only thing that separated you.

you reached to shake his hand without much finesse, wincing at how strong his grip was. "[name]."

"[name]? a lovely name, then." Phainon chirped, bestowing you with the mercy of letting go. "well, i hope we can get along from now. maybe i’ll even convince you of staying here forever, who knows?" he joked, laughing again.

yeah, right. what else? maybe you’ll marry him, and take down the wall separating your houses? seriously, you tried to convince yourself he wasn’t that bad, but now he was genuinely getting on your already fragile nerves.

you reached towards the suitcase. "doubt that."

the man seemed to ignore your slightly irked tone, leaning forwards to look into your trunk. "do you want me to help you with all that? not to brag, but i’m pretty strong, and your stuff looks… well, heavy."

a shudder ran down your spine as his clear, still so friendly and unrelenting voice rang practically next to your ear. at this point, you could make a list consisting entirely of the things that annoyed you about your new neighbor: for one, he possessed an unbearably happy attitude. he was overly-casual, acting as if he knew you for his entire life. loud. said he doesn’t like to brag, but just did that — so a hypocrite.

"thanks, but i’ll manage just fine." you replied, grabbing the handle and tugging the suitcase out, trying not to show how much of a struggle it was.

Phainon blinked twice at your refusal, as if it was something he completely didn’t expect. his lips parted in confusion before he gathered himself, once again donning that wide smile. "oh, but how could i let my neighbor do that all by herself?" he mused, reaching for your baggage. damn those villagers, and their weird conviction of integrity — maybe you really should have just stayed in the city, bothering yourself with the search for a new job, instead of indulging in 'relaxation' time on the countryside. it was hardly worth it, at least as of now.

a grimace appeared on your face, knitting your eyebrows together. you didn’t care for containing it anymore. "i told you, i can do this myself." you muttered, finding an odd sense of insult in the man helping you out — you were capable enough, weren’t you?

you tugged the handle out of his fingers, and Phainon stepped back, the message finally getting through his seemingly thick skull. he cleared his throat awkwardly, chuckling under his breath as he pretended to look around, his bright irises avoiding yours. "oh, i’m— i’m sorry, [name]. didn’t mean to offend you."

with a roll of your eyes, you closed the trunk shut, starting to walk towards the entrance of your house. "bye." you said, audible enough for the man to hear, and leave you alone.

Phainon didn’t protest any further, scratching his nape with a conflicted expression before shrugging and deciding to go back home. at least now his happy-go-lucky demeanor wouldn’t bother you.

a long day of cleaning, and moving in your stuff was already over — you were elated to find out that you, indeed, still had hot water, and the stove was working, even though you had to use matches to get the gas going. Bubbles was a bit unsure at first, anxiously treading the space, but ultimately deemed the new place as good enough. you definitely had to agree with your cat — it wasn’t perfect, but the lull of a quiet road successfully managed to ease your frayed nerves.

in addition, Phainon didn’t step out once to offer any other unwanted help, so that was a plus too.

you fell onto the bed, stretching out your hurting limbs from working so hard — you were planning on going to sleep, but the balcony door seemed especially enticing, so perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check it out as well. you dragged your feet over to the glass door, pushing it open, taking in the crisp air of night, gasping at how beautiful the sight of the mountains was — and then you saw it.

irritation washed over you the second you spotted a familiar silhouette, leaning on the railing of another balcony — right. you almost forgot the design of your houses was a mirror, the buildings being twins of themselves. you cursed under your breath, tucking your head down in hopes that your annoying neighbor failed to notice you — but before you could even move to walk back inside, he already waved your way, a wide smile stretching his lips.

"[name]! hi!" Phainon called, making your blood pressure skyrocket, "did you also want to get some fresh air before sleep?"

an overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over you, as you itched to reply — what do you think?

you scoffed, your feet glued in place, even though you wanted nothing more than to shut the balcony door, swish the curtains, and lie in your bed. "no, i was actually planning on jumping out." you deadpanned.

the man’s features initially twisted into concern, but then he laughed, finally catching up on your sarcastic remark, which definitely wasn’t aimed to offend him, nor his wits anyhow, "oh, you better not. it’s a long way down from here." he said, moving to step closer to your own balcony.

almost as if that was the whole point. "well, yeah, i came here to take a breath, but now i have someone yapping behind my ear."

Phainon shrugged, appearing as if he didn’t take that as an insult, even if his wide smile was now reduced to a mere, weak smirk. "c’mon, i’m just trying to be nice here." he responded, craning his neck to look into your eyes, seemingly avoiding him as they stared into the black outline of the mountains. "you know, i don’t want to admonish you, because i believe we’re the same age—" he paused, "wait, how old are you again?"

"twenty-four."

that evoked an almost triumphant noise out of him. "see? i’m only two years older than you. so, as i was saying, i really, really, don’t want to admonish you, however…"

you sighed at Phainon’s lag, finally meeting his gaze. "however what?"

"you see," the man began, a bit reluctantly, "maybe it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more friendlier? as far as i am concerned, you’re alone here. and so," he continued, prolonging the syllables of the words, "you have to be nice to people. if you keep glaring at everyone, then just imagine how that could backfire! no one around to help, no one to—"

must he always talk so much? it’s not that you were rude by nature, but his presence simply made you irritated. another thing to add to your list — he liked to force his beliefs on others, insisting he was so righteous. and he was a chatterbox.

"or maybe i just don’t find your company all that endearing, huh?" you interrupted his rant lazily, leaning your cheek over your palm. this conversation was starting to exhaust you much more than cleaning the entirety of your house.

Phainon breathed in, placing his hand over his chest, as if you genuinely managed to insult him. “mean! see? that’s exactly what i’m talking about." he huffed out, his eyebrows narrowing together.

you rolled your eyes, thinking that perhaps you truly were a little bit too unkind — but it’s not like you felt especially guilty about it, so you ignored the weak need of apology. "a grown man getting offended by something like that?" you mocked, shrugging. "i simply expressed my opinion. nothing personal."

his lips pressed into a tight line as he looked away from you, his line of vision locking on the rocky line of horizon. "you know, [name], you kind of remind me of someone." Phainon said, drumming his fingertips against his forearm.

you almost caught yourself asking — who?, but you held back, thinking the man was merely trying to pull at your tongue some more. without glancing back, you turned on your heel, starting to walk towards the door.

your movement seemed to snap Phainon out of his short stupor, "ah, you’re going already? see you then!" he called, though this time his voice wasn’t as upbeat as earlier.

"not if i see you first.” was all you replied with, shutting the balcony door with a loud 'thud!', and slipping off your flip-flops.

if you can’t even relax in your own house, then perhaps there was no rest for you in this place — you should start reconsidering your decision, and go back to the city.

——

go back to the city, you did not — one week passed since the moment you found yourself in this countryside, and even though your neighbor kept getting on your nerves, keeping you company during evenings on the balcony, offering you bottles of milk (which for some reason you didn’t get delivered), or waving friendly at you whenever you tended to your overgrown garden — you still stayed. maybe it was something in the air, or the vision of packing everything so soon and having to tug your suitcases back to your trunk was simply too much.

however, no matter how idyllic the time you had for yourself seemed (by which you meant — no Phainon in sight), some trouble came up. Bubbles was acting slightly off — it’s not like the cat was evidently sick, but its movements were slower than usually, and it made you worry. Bubbles was the ultimate highlight of your days, and you loved that animal terribly — so the second you noticed something was wrong, you called up the closest veterinary clinic.

a deep voice on the other side of the phone told you to come visit now — if you had the time, which you obviously possessed in ample amounts — so without further ado, you packed Bubbles into the carrier, and drove to the clinic. it took you some time to find it, which was surprising since you had the maps opened on your phone, and the village wasn’t overly big — but you miraculously managed to arrive before your cat would start to voice its sorrows from having to be driven around through the bumpy roads.

you gently grabbed the carrier, and entered the space, a characteristic smell attacking your nostrils. "hello." you greeted the lady at the front desk, smiling as politely as you could. "i came to have my cat checked up.”

the woman returned the gesture, her doe eyes flickering up from the computer as she examined your form. "and what does seem to be the problem?" she asked, her tone softer than you imagined it would be. most probably, she wasn’t the one who picked up your call.

"uhh," you began, a little unsure, "i don’t know. it’s just acting… off, so i got a little worried."

she nodded with understanding, asking for personal information and the cat’s name. once you were done with all the registering, she gestured towards the door, telling you the doctor was already waiting inside. in response, you sent her a grateful look, and quickly opened the entrance — only to be met with the sight of a face you prayed you wouldn’t have to see today — or ever again, for the record.

"[name]!" Phainon almost cheered, his eyes widening with recognition, "i didn’t expect to see you there. come, come." he ushered you inside, because as it turns out, you somehow forgot how to walk. you moved your feet reluctantly, your hold on the carrier tightening.

you felt absolutely flabbergasted. that fool — that absolute moron — was working as a veterinarian?!

upon taking in his navy-colored uniform, and the stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck, you had absolutely no doubts now. still, you found yourself asking: "you work here?"

Phainon laughed with obvious amusement, raking his fingers through the fair locks. "what do you think?"

ugh, was that déjà vu you were feeling again?

you tentatively settled the carrier down on the table’s surface, narrowing your eyes at the man. so he was the doctor. and he would be taking care of your cat.

"sorry, could i request someone else to take over?” you asked to no one in particular, looking around in hopes that another vet would pop out from the space, and help you out of the dire situation.

your neighbor scoffed with feigned hurt (at least you think it was feigned, looking at the way his eyes still crinkled in the corners). "why, [name], who do you take me for? i’m more than qualified, so don’t worry." he smiled at you now, taking a quick glance through the carrier’s bars. "oh, what an adorable kitten you have! what’s its name?"

"Bubbles.” you responded, curt and bitter as you continued to frown, anxiously chewing on your lower lip.

Phainon nodded in understanding, slipping on his medical gloves before reconsidering. "and is it friendly?" he mused, his blue eyes briefly flickering over to another pair of gloves of thick material, probably made only with the purpose of protecting the doctor’s hands. "or is it as feisty as its mistress?"

you listened to the man’s chuckle, as if the poor joke he just offered was the funniest thing in the world. "friendly enough." you said, tapping your foot against the tiled floor with impatience.

"glad to hear that." he carefully opened the carrier’s little doors, reaching towards your cat, now huddled into the corner. Phainon gave it a gentle tug, but once it refused to move, he sighed with resignation. "it’s scared of me. could you take off the carrier’s top?"

you cocked one of your eyebrows up at him, doing as he told you. "i’d be scared of you too, to be honest."

Phainon huffed at the comment, sending you a halfhearted glare — then, his focus returned to your pet as he picked it up, placing the animal down on the table. "hi Bubbles." he cooed at the cat, running his palm up and down its fur affectionately. the sight almost made your disdain towards the man soften, as you watched him smile so widely at the utterly anxious Bubbles. "what’s the matter, sweet thing?" he mumbled to the cat, even though it couldn’t answer him.

you took a singular step back, observing the whole charade with a dry smirk. "to be honest, i’m not sure myself. it was acting weird, you know… moving slower, eating less. i decided to bring it to the vet, 'cause i got worried."

Phainon seemed to mull over your words for a short while, and it didn’t surprise you when he came up with nothing. "i’m going to examine it, and then we’ll see what can be done." he decided, leaning down to look at Bubbles from up close.

everything that occurred then happened in a quick fashion — your mouth opened to warn him, next the cat’s whole tail seemed to puff up — before you could even say anything, sharp claws scratched the man’s pale skin, its reflexes too quick for a human to react to. you gasped, conflicted between bursting out into laughter, and expressing your hardly-genuine concern.

seriously, Phainon was either still inexperienced (which he earlier said he wasn’t, but as your list of annoyances told you — he was a hypocrite), or he was straight up stupid. you watched him jolt back, hand immediately flying over to his now wounded nose, feeling at the droplets of blood gathering up.

you winced. "oops."

"hey, you said it was friendly!" Phainon whined, quickly reaching for the napkins, and pressing one to his face. "for real, maybe someone else should take care of that troublemaker." he murmured, glancing towards the other door. "Mydei!"

who now? oh, so there really was an another vet — and it would seem whoever that was, they decided to ignore your earlier call for someone else’s assistance.

the door opened, a blonde man’s head peeking out as he took everything in with a stern expression, his sharp eyes narrowing at Phainon, who happened to be still gripping his bleeding nose. you almost wanted to take another step back, suddenly feeling small under his rather displeased gaze — if not for the polite nod he sent your way, you surely would have done so.

"Mydeimos, oh, my dearest friend, you’re the cat expert here." Phainon pleaded, his eyebrows narrowing, "wouldn’t you be so kind, and help—"

the veterinarian scoffed, immediately shaking his head. "first of all, you’re acting unprofessional." he said, his golden irises falling upon Bubbles, who still seemed terrified. "second of all, stop making a commotion. you’re scaring the cat."

"Mydei—"

"third of all," he interrupted mercilessly, going back to the separated room, "i’m getting prepared to check up on the horses, so i’m busy. take that as a no."

the door shut quietly, and once again you were left on your own with Phainon, whose expression was nothing short of defeat. against everything you felt towards him, you still sent him a sympathetic look — that Mydei guy really possessed quite a character.

"damn. and you’re calling me feisty when he exists." you remarked, careful to keep your voice low enough so the other vet wouldn’t hear you — if he did, then certainly you’d go flying out of the window.

Phainon let a silent snicker slip past his lips, "well, i’m not sure if you remember, but i did say you remind me of someone, didn’t i?"

you paused, unsure whether you should treat that as an insult, but ultimately decided to let it go — it wasn’t worth getting worked up over something like that. "…and you said he’s the cat expert. so what is your expertise, if you can’t even deal with a little feline? lizards?" you mocked, your eyebrows arching in amusement.

he shook his head. "well— i’m pretty sure you don’t share my sentiments, [name], but i’m rather fond of dogs." Phainon explained, "and by the way, lizards can cause damage too!"

your amusement only furthered when your gaze found its way onto the man’s exposed arms — scratches and bites in all variants of severity splattered across his skin, signifying he definitely had his own share of incidents with animals. "okay, whatever you say, doc." you huffed out, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes.

Phainon shrugged, throwing the napkin in the trash can, his focus returning to your pet. "well, alright then. let’s… let’s try again, shall we?"

as it turns out, your cat’s behavior was caused mostly due to stress — the new environment, smells, and everything piled up — but other than that, Bubbles was completely healthy, which caused you to breathe out in relief.

that evening, you didn’t see Phainon on the balcony. good riddance.

——

agony.

it was the only adequate word you could use to describe whatever you were feeling right now.

another seven days passed, and you deemed that as enough time to get acclimatized — the saturday’s morning started out slow, with you deciding to finally get a grip on your life, and perhaps search for jobs you could take up once you return to the city.

you set up your laptop, prepared yourself some tea, sat down as comfortably as you could with your pet making sure to keep your lap warm, and then it started.

that awful, absolutely terrible sound of complete anguish — drilling.

the second Bubbles heard it, the poor critter bolted from your legs, sprinting downstairs to probably hide from the loud noise. you wished you could do the same, except you actually had some work to do, so running away was out of question. technically, you could move your laptop somewhere else, but its battery condition was so bad, you had to keep it charging all the time — and it just so happened that the only accessible electrical contact was by your humble desk.

you knew who was making that noise. who else could be the culprit, but your annoying neighbor? it was only logical, looking at the way your semi-detached houses stood separated by a good few yards away from others.

that damned man, deciding it would be such a brilliant idea to start whatever renovations he had to do simultaneously with your work — not to mention, doing it so early in the morning. what time was it anyway, like seven? you glanced at your laptop’s screen — 7:31 AM.

you gritted your teeth, letting out a low grumble of dismay as you started typing on the keyboard. five minutes passed, then fifteen — all you did was stare blankly at the bright display of information you couldn’t possibly process through the clamor. you were wasting your precious time — no, Phainon was wasting it! if only you had his number, you’d immediately dial it, and start screaming at him to wait for at least the next three hours until he could resume the drilling (you doubted he’d listen).

with a sigh of resignation, you put your forehead in your hands, cradling it once you felt a headache building up behind your eyes, hammering painfully.

some time passed, and the noise was finally gone — which can’t be exactly said about your current migraine. you closed your laptop shut, thinking there was no way you would be able to continue with your lookout during such an insistent ache.

it was long since you felt so utterly livid. perhaps he was one of the few people who were able of evoking such strong emotions in you.

"jerk!" you yelled at the empty space of your bedroom, "stupid bastard! good thing you stopped, else i’d shove that goddamn drill up your arse!"

you huffed, and upon letting your frustrations out, you felt better — only slightly, but that was progress. it wasn’t like you, screaming and cursing like a spoiled brat, but at least you had a way of venting your anger caused by the ruckus. and it’s not as if Phainon could hear you, so you didn’t particularly care.

the rest of the day was monotone at best, and excruciating at worst. you didn’t do anything useful — tried wiping the dust off of some shelves, but they were already clean. then, you played with Bubbles, prepared dinner (which tasted awful, by the way), scrolled through your social medias, watching some mind-numbing videos until darkness came, and it was time for bed. you took a shower, changed, blew your hair dry.

everything you did was already a routine, and while it might have been relaxing, it was also boring — the sense of urgency in your body not letting you enjoy your quiet vacations, instead pushing you to do something more productive. alas, you found yourself lacking in the strength to even move a finger — well, almost, because instead of hitting the hay, you thought to step out on your balcony. again.

you were not surprised to see Phainon standing there, as it was also a part of the routine — you hoping to take a breath, and then being forced to listen to his usually thoughtless rambling. yesterday, he told you a story of how a cow kicked him straight in the gut when he was still a rookie to his profession — then proceeded to act offended when you laughed at it.

well, you found him annoying (especially now), but perhaps he was right about one thing — you were absolutely alone here. maybe the solitude caused you to become insane, pushing you to spend more time with him? yes, that’s definitely what happened. once your countryside excursion is over, you’ll certainly have to get your brain checked by a specialist.

Phainon clicked his tongue when you measured him with your dull gaze, setting your vision on the faraway trees as if he was but a mere speck of dust. "well, good evening to you too, [name]." he said, that ever-present smile already dancing on his lips.

you leaned over the barrier, feeling the gentle breeze rake through your hair, caressing your face. it was getting warmer and warmer by the day, and personally, you thought the change was for the worse. "don’t talk to me, or i’ll sew your mouth shut." you muttered under your nose, trying to ignore his intense eyes.

your neighbor tilted his head to the side, sending you a half-curious, half-teasing glance. "what? i didn’t hear you, [name]."

you knew damn well he heard you the first time, with the way he was standing so close to the barrier of your own balcony, looking like he was ready to take a leap across any moment, as if only to be closer to you. two another things to add to your list: makes too much noise (with the drill, to be precise), and has no concept of personal space.

"i said," you began, agitation arising in your voice as you turned yourself to face him fully, "shut your mouth, or i’ll shut you up myself."

Phainon whistled lowly, his eyebrows arching upwards. oh, if you had a rag, you’d definitely smack that empty head of his, wiping the smirk off his mouth. "[name], i’m already starting to shake in my boots." he hummed, amusement evident in his tone, "don’t look at me this way, or i’ll actually—"

your hand shoot up, stopping him from whatever nonsense he wanted to say next — you didn’t have enough mental strength to bear the things he could possibly throw your way. "no. just no."

"aww, must you always be so mean to me?" he whined, and you supposed you should spend less time with him. at first he was somewhat tolerable, but now all the initial politeness was gone, instead replaced with an unrelenting onslaught of winding you up.

another thing to add to your list: Phainon was a straight-up tease. (and you hated the way it made you smile sometimes)

with a heavy sigh, you looked back towards the rocky mountaintops, wishing you could just teleport there. "i’m not in the mood. i had a migraine from all that noise you made earlier."

the man’s confidence seemed to falter now, and he leaned back from the railing, clearing his throat. "oh, you mean when i started to drill? yeah, sorry 'bout that." he smiled sheepishly at you, scratching his nape. "are you angry at me?"

mere anger would be lenient, in this case. "take a wild guess, Phainon."

he clasped his hands together, his eyebrows knitting as he appeared genuine for the first time this evening. "oh, i must apologize. i should have told you earlier— i mean, about the drilling." the man leaned over, searching out your eyes. "does your head still hurt?"

what do you think? is what practically forced its way onto your tongue, but you held it back. déjà vu, déjà vu.

"no, i’m fine now." you breathed in response, "what did you assemble?"

Phainon seemed to consider your words for a second, before the characteristic smile found its way back onto his lips. "just a shelf. i ran out of space for my books, so i needed to add another one."

you nodded. "i see."

deep silence fell over you both, the only sound being the song of crickets, chirping away to their heart’s contents. Phainon’s mouth opened and closed, as if he was wondering whether he should speak up on whatever was bothering him right now — you, on the other hand, relished in the tranquility, his verbose tongue stopping for a rare moment of peace.

finally, he leaned over the railing so hard, you were sure one gust of wind, and he’d come tumbling down. "[name], honestly i still feel bad about causing you headache. as a compensation, why don’t you— i don’t know, let me treat you to a dinner, or—"

as if there was actually a fancy restaurant in this village. "save your money, i don’t need any compensations from you." you interrupted, pushing yourself away and starting to walk towards the balcony door. the only thing you didn’t need was your neighbor’s pity.

"hey, wait! you didn’t let me finish!"

was the last sentence you heard before shutting the door, and draping long curtains over the glass.

——

may came around, and life seemed easier now. after a month in here, your mind arrived to a rather simple conclusion — being on the countryside could be pleasant, at times. when you had nothing better to do, you’d leisurely lie down on the hammock you somehow managed to secure in your garden, the oak’s wide branches successfully obscuring you from unrelenting sun. Bubbles would accompany you, sprawled out on the grass, dozing off to the pleasant chirping of birds, its attention eventually caught by some grasshoppers.

the taste of lemonade, and the sweet scent of blooming lilac were utterly comforting, and so you found yourself enjoying the little vacations much more than you initially thought you would.

except — there was still one, big problem, and its name was Phainon.

you could recall it as clear as a day — his almost mocking chuckle as he peeked over the wired fence, watching you sweat when you worked on planting the potatoes, your knees digging uncomfortably into the soil. why you decided to plant them in the first place — you didn’t know, but you were bored beyond reason, and so the idea of indulging yourself with some true countryside life appeared somewhat enticing.

"are my eyes deceiving me?" Phainon laughed, spreading the tall stalks of sunflowers, which obscured his sight of you. "[name] actually tries to do something in the garden. who would’ve thought…"

you huffed in irritation, your eyes snapping up from the dirt you desperately attempted to dig out as you deemed fit (because you obviously were too lazy to even check how potatoes should be planted correctly — why not eyeball it?).

once your gaze met with the happy twins of blue, you felt an irresistible need of throwing the dusty soil straight at the man’s face beaming face. "yeah, i do. what’s it to you?" you murmured, starting to feel overly exposed.

Phainon shrugged, attempting to lean on the wired fence, but ultimately discarding the idea when the thing bent dangerously under his heavy weight. "nothing." he responded nonchalantly, but still refused to go away.

you scooped the dirt into your palm, clenching it into a fist before dumping in his direction. he ducked, briefly avoiding having his snow-white hair stained — then, he laughed again. of course. was the sound of joy the only one he could ever make?

you should add it to your list: laughs too much.

"wow, almost hit a bullseye.” he breathed, straightening out, "maybe you could prolong your stay and join us during the summer festival. there’s a plenty of games that consist of throwing." Phainon mused, and you snorted when one of the sunflowers bumped his head.

with a roll of your eyes, your focus returned to the ground, as you tried to resume your digging. "i’d rather not."

he clicked his tongue with dissatisfaction, that you couldn’t tell whether was true, or feigned. "ah, but why not?" he whined, his fingers hooking on the fence’s loops. "[name], if you really feel so unsure in your skills, then maybe i could play for you, and win you some prizes?" upon his coercion, you sighed, looking back into the giddy irises with an unimpressed expression.

"i’m sorry, Phainon, but do i look twelve to you?" a scoff escaped your lips as you took in his smile. "i don’t want teddy bears, especially not from you."

your neighbor seemed to deflate, almost just like balloons do. "especially not from me? and here i was, thinking we were already starting to get along."

you knew the hurt was feigned, because he had to work his lips into a thin, tight line, as if forcing back that insistent giggle threatening to slip past his lips — but he still looked like a kicked puppy, and you hated how it tugged at your heartstrings.

"stop guilt-tripping me." you responded bluntly, digging your small shovel into the dirt with probably much more force than necessary. "i didn’t come here to frolic around with you, and your friends. i actually have to get my shit together soon."

Phainon pushed his body onto the fence, evoking a weak creak from the old wires. "well, perhaps you should start getting it together now," he hummed, his intense gaze set on you, "because i don’t think potatoes should be planted during may.”

you halted your movements, chagrin prickling at your skin — come again? what does he mean by 'not planted during may'? all of your efforts — buying the potatoes, digging the rows during such a heat it made your vision go white — and now it would go to waste? maybe you really should have read something about the topic before taking up your work.

shame of an unknowing city girl washed over you as you let the shovel go from your hands. "why didn’t you tell me from the start?" you asked with pretension painted across your face, "it would’ve saved me some time, instead of wasting it!"

the man shrugged, sending you a smirk that was teasing, and yet so innocent at the same time. “i’m sorry, but you just seemed so engrossed. didn’t want to ruin your fun."

you seethed internally, already grabbing another handful of dirt into your palm. Phainon noticed your action, immediately hiding behind the shield of sunflowers. "seriously, [name], that’s like— common sense!" he continued, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you were absolutely sure he was grinning from ear to ear. "who in their right mind thinks that potatoes can be planted near summer?"

"well, maybe me?" you retaliated, getting up from your aching knees.

Phainon’s head peeked out from behind the flowers. "then you’re definitely in for some tutoring. maybe i should just teach you how to—"

you shoved the dirt into his face. he yelped dramatically, stumbling backwards, and falling on his ass.

for once, you could be the one smiling down at him with an undeniable triumph in your eyes.

…and that’s how it went. truthfully, Phainon’s unrelenting desire of keeping you company whenever you tried doing anything was quite perplexing. more often than not, you were simply mean — perhaps wanting to chase him away with your bitter attitude. he was either extremely oblivious, or didn’t care. but it’s not like he lacked in friends to keep himself practically glued to your hip — an obvious proof of that was now, as he cheerily conversed with familiar faces over the grill.

it was unbearably hot today, however you still failed to occupy yourself with anything useful, so you discarded your disdain for the sun, and decided to lounge in the garden. Bubbles was happily prancing around the grass, chasing after little bugs — and you felt the need of curling up on yourself.

Phainon, who seemed almost hellbent on always spotting your presence, turned away from the grill, and waved your way. you didn’t wave back.

your cat, possessing its ever-traitorous nature, hopped over to the wired fence, rubbing against the rusty wire. the man immediately crossed the distance and crouched, his eyes softening, which was a vivid contrast to the wide smile he still donned. he reached over to the animal, sticking his fingers through the fence, and petting its little head as Bubbles purred upon the newly-received attention.

"Phainon," a deep voice called from over the grill, causing your neighbor to turn his head, "what are you doing over there? the bread is gonna burn."

"then just take it off yourself!" Phainon retaliated, huffing out in frustration before his gaze returned to the pet — then to you. "how’s Bubbles? already feeling better?"

you dragged your feet closer to the pair, crossing your arms over your chest as you studied his hunched form, caressing Bubbles’ fur. the man had to practically force his way through the sunflowers, and other lush bushes obscuring his way — he really must have loved animals… or bothering you.

with a shrug, you leaned down to give the critter a small pet on its back too. "it’s feeling way better." you responded briefly, not wanting to expand upon the well-being of your cat. Phainon already did what he had to, and he wasn’t at work now, so it frankly wasn’t his business.

"is that right, beautiful?" he beamed down at Bubbles, finally retracting his hand. "well, i’m very glad to hear that. oh, by the way," he straightened out, gesturing with his head towards the people sitting by the grill in his garden, "[name], wouldn’t you like to join us? i’m sure everyone would love to get to know you."

you gave a sigh, the trail of your vision landing upon Mydei — who you were already acquainted with, because you took Bubbles for another check-up, and that time he was the one tending to your cat (thank gods), and the familiar lady from the front desk. you didn’t know her name, but she seemed friendly enough — so you waved in their direction, trying not to show how unsure you truly felt. both of them smiled at you.

you genuinely wanted to join them, because in contrast to Phainon, the pair actually seemed somewhat bearable — but it felt like… intruding. a weird sense of not being exactly separated from everything else, but also not belonging. "i’m sorry, but i must decline. i was— i was actually going to do some work now." you spoke to the violet-haired woman more so than to Phainon directly, and she gave an understanding nod.

"that’s alright." she took a sip of her drink, her irises briefly flickering over to Mydei, who was now busying himself with flipping over the meat, "next time, then."

you leaned down to scoop Bubbles into your arms, and your neighbor voiced a sound of disappointment, spreading the stalks of sunflowers further hastily. "oh, but [name], why not? can’t your work wait?" he whined, giving you puppy eyes. could he get any more pathetic than that?

a protest bloomed on your tongue, and you already opened your mouth to speak up on it, but another voice interrupted you. "give that woman a rest, Phainon. didn’t she say she’s busy?" Mydei spoke, and you breathed out in relief. truly a life saver.

"yeah." you affirmed, pressing Bubbles a little closer to your chest. "i’ll go now. bye."

with that, you turned on your heel, and walked back home, still feeling that intense gaze on your shoulders — seriously, would it hurt him to cut you some slack for once? it’s not as if he was lonely, unlike you.

so why did he continue to seek you out so much?

you stared at the chuck steak, now placed on your table — after your neighbor’s little get-together was over, and the slightly irritating smell of grill and burning meat dissipated (exactly — burning. you didn’t know what was going on, but you heard panicked screams of Phainon through your open window, wailing over the food he accidentally ruined), he decided to knock at your door. of course, you opened it, only to be met with a sight of neatly packed steak, practically pushed into your face.

you took the tupperware boxes, sending him a confused look — then, he proceeded to explain he bought too much, and they couldn’t eat everything, and how he didn’t want it to go to waste, and how delicious it was, and so on. this time, you didn’t interrupt his nonsensical rambling for a change, allowing him to stumble over his words awkwardly — for some reason, it was endearing.

after he was done with his hardly-coherent rant, you thanked him for the food, and closed the door in his face. for a second, you even wondered whether this steak was poisoned, or something — but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be completely edible. actually, you were quite surprised with the taste. it was exactly as he said — delicious. through his logorrhea, you managed to catch one information that stuck out to you — Mydei was the one to season, and prepare the portion.

it honestly was kind of bewildering to you, because that stern guy with a no-nonsense attitude didn’t look as if he was especially familiar to the art of cooking. well, as the saying goes — don’t judge a book by its cover.

still, you couldn’t help but feel gratitude, thanking the gods he was the one to take care of the meat, instead of Phainon — who, due to your earlier deduction, successfully managed to burn it.

once you finished your rather late dinner, you put the dishes away in the sink, deciding to let them soak for now. then, you continued on with your usual routine — shower, change, blow your hair dry, bid goodbye to Bubbles who was peacefully snoozing on the couch. drag your feet over to the balcony, open the door, greet your neighbor dryly… wait, where was he?

you almost caught yourself frowning at his absence. almost.

should you add it to your already long list of annoyances? doesn’t keep up with the unspoken routine: check.

usually, you’d be happy to find that the balcony beside yours was empty, except this time it irked you — why, you weren’t sure, but perhaps his company during the evenings, when the sky was already darkened, and splattered with bright stars, was the only consistent thing, keeping you grounded and secure in this still somewhat unfamiliar countryside.

but you’d never admit it. never.

so, with a reluctant sigh, you departed back inside, falling onto your bed, and closing your eyes. the hour was still fairly young, perhaps too early for you to fall asleep, especially since the air seemed oddly still — the chirping of cicadas distant, not quite reaching your ears.

now, you could easily discern all the other noises surrounding you — the creaking of your old house, Bubble’s quiet meows from downstairs, the loud yelp of pain — wait, what?

you jolted upwards on the mattress, listening to the following chain of curses, the sound of a familiar voice resonating muffled just behind the wall where your bed stood. you blinked in surprise, thinking — since when was the wall separating your rooms so thin? yes, you heard some weird noises before, but you chalked it up to nothing in particular, deciding to ignore them. right now, doing so seemed almost impossible.

you pressed your ear to the cold wall, meeting with silence. "hello? Phainon?" you called over, keeping your voice loud enough for the man to hear. another beat of silence passed before you heard a barely audible sound of footsteps. it is truly miraculous you somehow failed to guess where all the foreign noises were coming from (which was, most likely, caused by you living in your lavish family-house for the bigger part of your life).

once you pushed the side of your head closer, you could almost make out the ruffling of sheets coming from the other side. "[name]?" the voice resonated louder than you expected it to, causing you to jump back.

you found yourself almost laughing at the discovery, but at the same time, you felt somewhat disturbed by the lack of privacy you had from the start. "are you okay?" you asked, making sure to keep your tone clear.

a quiet chuckle reached you, and you thought Phainon really must have been acting quiet when he was alone — which was unusual, at least in your opinion, but what else could be the reason? after all, you barely heard him, and you already spent a month here.

"i’m— i’m fine." he stammered out, and you imagined him pressing his ear to the wall too. "just stumbled my toe on the table’s corner. nothing serious."

now it was your turn to giggle. "really? it sounded almost as if you had your leg cut off."

Phainon laughed louder now, and if not for the wall separating you away from him, you would’ve thought he was standing right next to you. "sorry. did i scare you?" he mused, and you rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it.

"hardly. although," you sighed, now leaning a little bit more comfortably on the hard surface, "i didn’t expect the walls to be so thin. i got surprised, is all."

he hummed in response, seeming to consider your words. "well, i was aware for some time now."

"really?"

another chuckle. "yeah. uhh… do you remember when i was was done drilling, and you started screaming curses at me?" your neighbor recalled lightheartedly, and you felt your heart sink to the floor. oh no.

did he really hear you, back then? well, the possibility was rather obvious, since he now told you about that little outburst of yours. it wasn’t like you — to suddenly start feeling guilty about things that didn’t bother you earlier on. still, you couldn’t help but flinch in shame, thinking you wouldn’t mind if the earth opened, and swallowed you whole.

upon hearing your lack of response, Phainon urged. "[name]? you still with me?" you could hear the smile in his voice.

"yes, i am." you snapped out of your stupor, "sorry 'bout that. i guess i got a little too angry, then." you apologized quickly, feeling your cheeks burn. good thing you weren’t on the balcony now, else that awful man would tease the hell out of you.

listening in — you almost wanted to add to your list, but it wasn’t exactly his fault. plus, if you’d try to enforce that logic, you’d be equally guilty.

"ah, but don’t worry about that." he assured, as if sensing your concern, and you imagined him waving his hand dismissively. "i found it funny, just so you know."

you chewed on your cheek for a second, before finally deciding to let the topic go. "why didn’t you come out on the balcony today?" you asked instead, swiftly changing the course of conversation.

another, very quiet snicker which you barely were able of discerning. "why, is my lovely neighbor suddenly troubled about my well-being?"

if he were standing on that balcony, you’d push him off.

"no." you immediately refused, maybe a bit too quickly, "don’t get your hopes up. honestly, you could be dying right now, and i wouldn’t bat an eye."

Phainon scoffed. "ouch. your words are cruel as ever."

…well, perhaps you didn’t mean it to come out that way. truth be told, if Phainon was as much as sick, you’d be already worried — even though you didn’t want to admit that. still, he was annoying, and so you wouldn’t let down your bitter facade down.

a slightly awkward silence fell over you, and you finally started to feel fed up with all the talking. too much happened today as it is, and now you’d rather face your embarrassments alone. "anyway, i’ve still got some work to do, so…" you trailed off, the lie easily slipping off your tongue.

"you’re still not finished?" the man inquired, and then you realized you offered the same thing as an excuse earlier, because you were probably too shy to join the grill.

was your mind always so slow, and clumsy? "i— i, uh, yeah, still not finished." you forced out, and it would seem it was now your turn to stumble over the words. "you know how it is. work, work…" you let out a dry chuckle, hoping he couldn’t hear the waver in your voice.

"but didn’t you say you were on vacations?"

that much was true — still, you felt a little bit too tangled in your own web of lies and excuses. with a heavy sigh, you said: "yeah, 'cause they fired me. now i’m searching for a new job."

you didn’t know what tempted you to admit your woes, and you were already starting to feel regret. it was a surprise when instead of a teasing remark, you got met with consolation. "oh… that’s unfortunate. i’m sorry, [name]." Phainon said, his tone unusually serious.

you nodded to yourself. "nah, it’s nothing. i already sent a plenty of applications, so it’s only a matter of time before i’ll be back on my feet." you huffed out a breathy chuckle. "you won’t be bothering me any longer."

"and so you’ll leave?"

you blinked, sensing the faceless voice become more muffled, and distant now. you almost hoped he would laugh at your sarcastic comment, but nothing of the sort reached you. "i suppose."

why was he asking such obvious questions? the day you met, you clearly stated you wouldn’t linger for too long — and now Phainon had the audacity to act all solemn when you simply repeated the facts. but, perhaps, you were a little sad too, to part with this countryside. if you could, you’d try and prolong your stay — however, the savings in your bank account weren’t looking as promising, and you knew you had to get a grip. long gone were the days of your parents supporting you.

"ah, i know, i just—" he lagged, "never mind. you know what’s best for you, [name]."

hearing the evident defeat in his tone, you banged at the wall, once but hard. you didn’t like when he was acting so odd. upon your action, you received a startled yelp from the other side — and then a laugh. "stop acting as if i’m going to die, Phainon. maybe i’ll come visit in a year, or two."

"yeah! that sounds— that sounds great." he said, and you pretended to ignore how fake his upbeat words sounded.

you glued yourself off from the wall, lying down in your bed. for some reason, your eyelids got heavy, and the tension that built up between you appeared unbearable (at least in your opinion). "i’m going now. goodnight." you called, pulling the sheets over your body.

you frowned when you received no reply, but didn’t push further.

——

you were… stalling.

right now, the calendar clearly indicated twenty-first of june, and you couldn’t help but grimace at the innocent object, as if it was its fault for your reluctance to leave.

you have tried to pack and go — truly. but a week ago, when you opened your suitcases, you heard a characteristic knock on the wall — and then you proceeded to talk with Phainon for one hour, before deciding to go out on the balcony, and converse for another two.

three days ago, you’ve gathered up your resolve, swearing you wouldn’t get distracted this time — except Bubbles was nowhere in sight, and after your restless search for the animal, you spotted it sprawled out in Phainon’s garden, its tail flickering gently as it leisurely rolled over to the side, obviously relishing in the sun. with a heavy sigh, you committed the act of breaking and entering — well, could you even call it that, when the gate of his fence was open? (thank gods he was at work then).

yesterday, you already had enough of your laziness, and even started taking out your clothes from the wardrobe, but then Castorice, who you managed to become friends with, payed you a visit with a big tray of strawberry cake (bless that woman’s soul).

and so, you finally took the fate’s hint, and decided to lay off your departure preparations for now. it was honestly terrifying how easily it came to you — you simply checked your financial situation, esteeming it as poor but manageable, called your parents to let them know you’ll stay for another week or two, and then pushed the suitcases to the corner of your room.

alas, your quiet day of tranquility came to an end rather quickly, and the second you saw who was calling you up, you almost started to curse yourself out for forgetting — astronomical day of summer, and that damned festival…

you swiped over your phone’s screen, picking up with reluctance. "what?" you greeted dryly, not even bothering to contain your disdain.

"[name]!" that usual, awfully cheery voice resonated from the speaker, and you frowned upon hearing it so loudly. "are you free today?"

you wanted to say — what do you think?, but due to tradition, kept your mouth shut.

"yeah." you offered instead, leaning on the soft cushions of your couch, rubbing at your temples. it would be easier to say no, but the longer you spent in this countryside, the further your weird fear of missing out grew — and since you’ll be leaving soon anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to socialize some more… probably.

you heard the weak sound of shuffling. "great! uhh, do you remember about the festival? maybe you’d like to join us?" you opened your mouth to reply, but Phainon didn’t even give you the chance of voicing your opinion. "well, i’ll be at your door at around… 6 PM? oh, and Mydei and Cas are coming too, just so you know.”

an exasperated groan ripped from your throat, and you wanted to berate him for not letting you speak — it would seem he already made the decision for you. "fine, geez, calm down." you muttered, the corners of your lips itching upwards at his hasty rambling. "just don’t be too late, okay?"

"of course, i’d never let my beloved neighbor wait for me!" he laughed, and you looked up at your ceiling, as if calling out for help from the gods. it appeared they preferred to ignore you today.

you didn’t even say goodbye, immediately hanging up with a sigh of relief. the clock hands indicated a late afternoon, so perhaps it would be better to start getting ready now. you pulled yourself upright, already tired by the vision of an indescribably long day ahead of you.

the loud, upbeat music attacked your ears as you stood tucked away in some corner with Phainon, not wanting to obscure the road for other people, as there were rather plenty amounts of them moving around. only after a prolonged minute of suffering, you noticed you were literally standing by the tall, big speakers — no wonder the music was so unbelievably notorious.

your casual outing started rather calmly, even though you could already hear the clamor from the distance — good thing your house was located far away from the vast fields, now pumping with life as everyone either drank, danced, or tried to shoot their shot with the games. only halfway through your walk, Mydei called Phainon to let him know that something came up — your neighbor’s face fell, and as you asked him what’s wrong, he explained about the 'cows' and 'complicated labor', and that Mydei and Castorice won’t come.

you nodded stiffly, hardly making any sense from his words, but that’s the life of a veterinarian, you supposed. still, the dread of being forced to spend time alone with him — not just talking on the balcony, or bickering through your fence (or wall, as of now), but rather really, really spending time. just the two of you, with no one around to help you out of the awkward situation.

and so, right now you were shifting your weight from one leg to another, pondering how long you’ll have to keep loitering before Phainon graciously offers something to do. his blue irises flickered over to your form time to time, and every time your gazes met, all he did was let out a nervous chuckle.

it would appear he didn’t think the situation through, just like you.

you tugged at his t-shirt, forcing him to lean down to your level. damn him, and his stupid genes for making him so tall. "what should we do?" you asked, keeping your voice audible enough to pierce through the commotion.

Phainon’s whole body seemed to react to your words, his tense shoulders slouching with relief. "there’s many things we could try." he offered, still leaning so close to your face, you could almost smell the minty scent of his breath. for some reason, now you were the stiff one, your nape washing over with salves of hotness. "would you like a drink? or try some games?"

you studied his smile, as friendly as ever, and looked around to scan your surroundings. "maybe games?" you decided weakly, recalling how he once complimented your throwing skills — you doubted it was genuine, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

the man nodded in understanding, the corners of his lips curling upwards even further as he started to take wide steps towards one of the stalls. you pushed through the crowd, trying to keep up with him — not only was he tall, but he had long legs too! ugh, you supposed those things go in pair.

after searching for an adequate game to play, you finally stood before a rather simple one — throw the balls into buckets, win a prize. easy, no? except the buckets were small, and the balls absurdly light — for a second, you wanted to tell Phainon it was an absolute scam, but he seemed so hellbent you decided to keep quiet. it’s not like he’d listen to you, anyway.

your neighbor’s turn came first, and you snickered under your breath as he kept missing. at first, he boasted just how great he is at the game — then, as his frustration grew, he proceeded to whine and wail at how rigged it was.

"you absolutely suck." you clicked your tongue, tilting your head to the side as you observed him throw in the last ball — it rolled off the table’s surface, disappearing somewhere your eyes didn’t reach.

Phainon’s face whipped in your direction as he frowned at the comment, his eyebrows knitting together. "i swear i don’t!" he retaliated, a mixture of disappointment and ire painted across his features. "if you’re so smart, then why don’t you try yourself, huh?"

the game organizer laughed at your interaction, his gaze flickering over to you, as if he was beckoning you to test your strength. with a shrug, you paid the fee, and the older man handed you five balls. you tested their weight in your palms — light, just as you thought. you knew you’ll probably fail just as miserably as Phainon, so you threw one of them without much finesse — and you actually succeeded. your eyes widened in surprise as the owner of the stall whistled, a rumbling chuckle escaping his mouth.

"well, would you look at that!" the stranger exclaimed, as if even he was taken aback. "sir, turns out your lady is much better at the game than you!" he laughed once more, and you gaped— what did he just call you?

you looked at Phainon, wholeheartedly expecting him to correct the man, but all he did was give him a tight-lipped smile, scratching his neck abashedly. maybe he didn’t hear the older one clearly? well, never mind, it’s no use dwelling on that — you threw another ball, trying to mimic your movement from earlier — it fell into the bucket. the third one wasn’t so lucky, but the fourth one managed to score as well.

Phainon stood behind your back, his hands flying over to your shoulders and shaking you excitedly, "c’mon, [name], you got this! only one left!" he exclaimed animatedly right beside your ear, making your skin crawl at his overly-enthusiastic demeanor — it would seem his earlier bitterness completely dissipated now.

you huffed, shaking him away. "lie off or i’ll miss!" you said, straining your tone to dominate over the ever-present loud music and noise. he took an obedient step back, and you swear you actually started to feel a little afraid of losing now — it’s not like they’ll have you publicly executed if you mess up, right? right?

with a bated breath, you threw the remaining ball into the bucket — you anxiously observed it swivel around, almost threatening to fall out, itching over the edge — and then, it rolled down, stopping at the bucket’s bottom. you caught yourself wanting to jump up in triumph, but all you did was send a self-satisfied smirk towards Phainon, obviously signifying: see? i’m better.

the man cheered in your stead, reaching over to pat your back, and you couldn’t help but relish in the positive attention directed straight at you.

the stall owner cleared his throat, gesturing towards the row of plush toys located behind him. "for four successful throws, you can choose something from this section." he explained, and you measured the cute muzzles of various animals — you almost pointed towards the cat of an eerie resemblance with Bubbles, but then another one caught your attention. a dog of white fur, it’s dark, beady eyes sticking out, as if the object was mutely begging to be picked.

"i’ll have that one, please." you said, gesticulating towards the toy. it was given to you, and you inspected its goofy face, smiling unconsciously at the slightly crooked nose.

you then turned to Phainon, pushing the thing into his arms. personally, you had no need of stuffed toys, and the space in your suitcases was already very limited, so there was no way you’d drag it all the way home. and… perhaps it was worth it, looking at the way his whole face lit up. "oh, is that for me?" he cooed, lifting the dog to his eye-level.

you shrugged nonchalantly, pretending as if you didn’t notice the way Phainon continued to ogle the toy for the whole time of your game. "yeah. never thought i’d see someone who’s pushing thirty being so excited to have a stuffie." you remarked sarcastically, though your voice lacked in any real bite.

"thank you, [name], i’m going to cherish it forever now!" he ignored your comment, leaning down to embrace your shoulders with his free arm, the white dog resting under another — and for some reason, you didn’t find yourself pulling away. a mere eye-roll would be enough to voice your completely truthful, and totally not feigned disdain for the action.

after you were done hopping around all the other stalls, you decided to sit down for a drink — which in your humble opinion, wasn’t the best idea, but you couldn’t find the strength to refuse Phainon. you huddled with him on the lengthy benches, one of your sides pressing against him, and the other briefly brushing against some unfamiliar woman, who seemed to be too occupied with her conversation to even pay you any attention. which, of course, you were grateful for.

the same couldn’t be said about Phainon, who casually leaned over the wooden table’s surfaces, happily chattering with acquaintances and strangers alike, occasionally introducing you.

you stopped at one cup of beer, deeming that as enough, but your lovely neighbor continued to drink one after another — after the fourth glass, you stopped counting. he seemed to uphold pretty well, still talking with enough finesse to make out what he wanted to communicate, and even asking you out for a dance multiple times — it’s not hard to guess whether you decided to accept, or decline.

still, nothing lasts forever, and soon it got dark enough, with you becoming quite bored with sitting around and listening to the conversations around you. Phainon’s face was now slightly blushed, and his hair disheveled more than usually, which was an obvious sign you better go before he starts making a fool out of himself.

right now, you were practically dragging his arm forwards, berating yourself for thinking you could ever deal with that man-child. "c’mon, move faster or i’ll leave you here, and you’ll perish in those bushes." you urged, pointing towards the rather dense flora on the side of the road.

he chuckled in response. "nah, you wouldn’t."

"wanna see for yourself?"

that seemed to shut him up. for now.

a beat of silence passed as you tried navigating through the darkness, the only source of light being moon, and the distant leds of the festival. "[name], did you enjoy yourself today?" a slightly unsure, but still obliviously jovial tone came from beside you.

"i guess." you responded dryly, even though a multitude of insults kept forcing themselves onto your tongue. for whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw any mean comments at the man — which was unusual, so perhaps you were drunk too. no matter if you only had one cup.

"you guess?" Phainon started, the syllables of his words slurring slightly, "that’s not an answer, y'know!"

you huffed, deciding to indulge his drunken mind. "yes, i had fun today, thanks to you, and only you. happy?" you deadpanned, and the man’s eyes seemed to brighten as he reached out to ruffle your hair, still trailing one step behind like a lost puppy.

"very!" he affirmed, nodding excitedly. seriously, if he was pathetic while sober, then what levels did he reach now?

you sighed with resignation, shaking your head as you continued to lead Phainon towards your houses. once you got there, he was almost ready to bid you goodbye, but you opened the gate for him, ushering the man to step forward. looking at the stumble in his step, that moron could accidentally hurt himself — and you didn’t want to explain to the paramedics how your neighbor decided to get wasted, proceeding to slip on the cobblestone stairs of his place, and cracking his skull open.

"ah, [name]," Phainon crooned, batting his thick eyelashes at you, "i didn’t know you actually have a heart!" he joked, wincing when you slapped him across the wrist.

"i just don’t think you’re capable of conquering the stairs by yourself, dumbass." you nagged, though truthfully, your worries stretched much further. a drunk person is extremely vulnerable, and, well, Phainon could be rather… unfortunate at times, so you’d better not risk it.

the man dragged his feet over to the entrance, patting the pockets of his pants before pulling out the keys. after another failed attempt of pushing them inside the lock, you clicked your tongue in irritation, taking them and opening the door yourself. it was your first time visiting the man — such a way to make an impression — so you looked around the space of his home, thinking it was rather cluttered for someone living alone. not to mention, that house was built at least for a family of three — and he never mentioned having any, so why is he…

"do you really live here alone?" you found yourself asking, observing Phainon as he struggled to close the door.

you briefly noticed his shoulders stiffen, but he nodded. "for some time now, yeah." he answered, his voice quieter than usually. he turned to you upon hearing the lock click, his smile a little too tight, and you sensed you were treading into a dangerous territory.

your curiosity almost got the better of you, especially since he was drunk, and would probably spill anything you wanted to know — but you quickly discarded the idea, thinking you could never take advantage of him. "alright, i won’t ask. stay there, i’ll bring you a glass of water."

Phainon nodded obediently, leaning on the wall as you turned on the big light, and tried to find your way to the kitchen — which obviously wasn’t hard, because as it turns out, even the layout of your rooms was the same.

you swiftly took out a singular cup, filling it up with tap-water before your attention got caught by something on the fridge — a few photos stuck to the surface with colorful magnets. it wouldn’t be polite to pry, alas your earlier ignited curiosity demanded for you to take a closer look — and so, you stepped a forwards, quickly scanning the contents.

the first one depicted Phainon and Mydei in their veterinary uniforms — the blonde’s man arm was loosely slung over Phainon’s back as they posed for the casual photo. a small, brown puppy sat in his embrace as your neighbor smiled widely at the camera, exposing a row of pearly whites. for some reason, he looked happier then.

next one was of similar nature, with Castorice and Phainon sat atop some hay, two calves resting on their laps — nothing else caught your attention.

the third picture was much more thought-provoking. Phainon and an unfamiliar girl of fuchsia hair stood in front of a sea — her lips were curled into a smirk, while the man’s mouth was open, brows furrowed, as if the photo was taken during some kind of a lighthearted bicker. you didn’t know who she was.

another one presented you with more context — a family of four, posing in front of a statue you couldn’t exactly discern. the fuchsia-haired girl seemed to be his sister, leaning on Phainon’s side as she licked on some icecream. beside them stood two other people — a woman of the same fair locks Phainon possessed, and a man, grinning from ear to ear with thumbs-up.

your eyes already flew over to the next one, but a distant call rapidly snapped you out of your reveries, almost causing you to drop the glass. "[name]! did you die here, or something?"

you cursed under your breath. "coming!"

you forced your feet to move, but your thoughts still reeled over and over again, and you felt an uncomfortable ache in your chest — just what happened to Phainon? where was his family now? did they decide to move, leaving him alone here? oh, but that didn’t make any sense — the house was obviously full of their stuff, because there was no way he would need so much of everything.

you decided to abandon your pondering for now, thinking you’d find another occasion to ask. "sorry i took so long. let’s go to your bedroom." you breathed, flashing him an apologetic smile.

Phainon didn’t protest, beginning to climb upstairs with you in tow, making sure that if he stumbled, you’d be there to catch him. his bedroom was even more so cluttered than the entirety of the house — books sprawled out on the desk with papers messily thrown around, ceramic figurines sitting atop some shelves, a few plastic bottles of water discarded all about the space — still, you thought it definitely fit him.

"ugh, i’m so exhausted." he groaned, sitting on the mattress as you handed him the glass, turning on a small lamp standing on the bedside table. the man sipped the water hastily, tilting it at such an unfortunate angle it spilled across his torso, soaking his t-shirt. Phainon mouthed something under his nose, placing the plush toy beside his head as he fell heavily onto the bed.

you rolled your eyes, observing his half-asleep form. "seriously?" you asked, searching his wardrobe for a new top — once you succeeded, you turned to face him again. "at least change, for gods’ sake."

Phainon voiced a sound of protest. "don’t wanna. too tired." he mumbled, evidently defeated by the alcohol still running through his bloodstream with fervor.

you sighed, closing the distance between you, and begrudgingly easing his shoes off, placing them neatly in the corner of the room. then, you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards. Phainon laughed weakly at your action, his big palms catching your wrists. "wow, i didn’t take you for someone so bold." he gave you a lopsided grin, and you wished you could smack him across the head.

"shut up." you warned, and the man thought to lie off with the teasing remarks — a wise decision indeed.

you took off the clothing, throwing it on the nearest chair before you started to tug on the new, dry tee on his shoulders. "arms up." you instructed, and you felt as if you were playing dress-up with a very large, uncooperative doll (meanwhile also having to avert your eyes, because staring at the toned chest was definitely improper).

Phainon hummed in satisfaction, stretching out. "thanks, [name]. what would i do without you?" he mused, and you found yourself terrified to hear that his voice was unusually tender. why were you helping him in the first place?

(the answer lied somewhere far away, at the back of your disarrayed mind — but for now you were way too scared of admitting it, even in your thoughts).

you gently grabbed his shoulder, pushing him to lie on his side. "stay like that. preferably don’t move at all." you said, your eyebrows unconsciously narrowing together. "if— if something happens, just call me up, or knock at the wall. understood?"

before you could even take a step back, a hand shoot out to grasp yours — your breath hitched, eyes widening as you felt Phainon’s fingers locking through yours, keeping you in his grip. "are you going already?" he asked, his hazy gaze seeking you out with such insistence, you thought your heart might just crawl out from your throat.

what was he doing to you?

"…probably. you need to sleep it off." you murmured meekly, trying to keep your voice steady. "don’t want to bother you any longer."

Phainon huffed out a dry chuckle at that. "bother me? you could never, [name]." he spoke, and something in your gut told you he must have hit his head earlier, when you weren’t paying attention.

upon receiving no reply from you, his expression shifted into something slightly dejected, and you wanted to burst out from a mixture of ambivalent emotions swirling in your poor brain. "when are you leaving? i mean, the countryside." he inquired quietly, pressing his fingers tighter around yours. you hated how easily you could discern anxiety in his eyes.

you considered his words, leaning down, just a little. "don’t worry about it now."

the man seemed unsatisfied with your dismissive answer, a somber grimace blooming on his face. "tell me."

you let the air out from your lungs; why not add it to your list? stubborn as a donkey. "soon. in a week, or so." you explained, your erratic heartbeat still yet to falter. "maybe longer, maybe not. we’ll see."

Phainon mulled over your words, the cogs in his mind turning slowly as he tried to process whatever information you threw at him. "and will you visit soon?" he questioned finally.

that you weren’t sure of. what’s his definition of 'soon'? a few months? a year? well, if you know Phainon, you’d bet all of your money for an absurdly short amount of time — something like… five days. maybe four. "i don’t know." you answered truthfully, because you didn’t feel like lying him straight in the eyes.

for a brief second, he looked done with the interrogation, but then, his mouth opened again. "and must you… must you really leave? [name], i—" he winced, hissing in pain. you knew drinking would be a bad idea. "i know you have your own life, but it’s not like— it’s not like you’re not enjoying yourself, right? i could help you find a job here, actually, i already have a plenty of ideas what—"

your free hand shoot up, cutting his slurred rambling short — now that was new. you knew Phainon got attached, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get as well, but you never thought it extended to such an intensity. your annoying, irritating, absolutely awful neighbor was thinking of searching for a job, specifically for you — and for what? so you’d stay?

you couldn’t bear to listen to him anymore, and you thought you actually blessed him with a favor by interrupting the vulnerable rant. in the morning, when he sobers up, Phainon would surely regret spilling so much (that is, if he even remembered).

still, his desperation with constantly seeking you out, and making vast effort to please you remained a riddle — and then, as you frowned at his expression bordering on panic, you came to a rather simple, albeit morose conclusion — he was lonely. previously, you were sure things like that stretched only in your direction, but upon looking through the cracks of his mirthful mask, you couldn’t ignore the vivid sorrow seeping out of him.

you recalled how much he enjoyed talking, and occupying himself with anything, at all times, as if only to keep his mind busy. earlier on, you didn’t understand how someone could possibly push through a long day of work, and then demand even more stimulation — now it was almost logical. then, his quiet nature when he was alone, either reading or doing gods know what, treading his bedroom so silently you wouldn’t even know he was there.

and finally, the photos of his family, stuck to the fridge, their smiling faces frozen forever in time. if Phainon had a fallout with them, surely he wouldn’t keep the memories exposed in such an obvious place — the possibilities tugging along with that conclusion almost made your heart stop, your stomach churning uncomfortably.

"Phainon." you spoke, trying not to show how much all of this affected you. "you’re drunk, and you don’t make much sense. we’ll talk about this once you’re sober, alright?"

that stupid glimmer of hope in his eyes seemed to go dim, and he merely nodded in understanding, ultimately deciding to ease his grip from your hand. you slipped it away from his slender fingers, instead reaching to his tousled hair, and brushing the bangs away from his forehead. "i’ll go now. sleep well."

"okay. you too." the man answered, and you waved at him briefly before silently shutting the door, and descending downstairs. if you wanted to, you could go take a peek at the photos again — but for some reason, it felt like a way of betraying trust — even if Phainon didn’t know you were doing it. still, you decided to stick with your moral compass, and left the house altogether, your heart unbelievably heavy.

——

twenty-second of june. the morning started out slow, with you waking up barely after 7 AM, and even though sleepiness continuously pulled you down into the mattress, you decided against lying and lazing around.

your thoughts were still heavy with what occurred yesterday, and the vision of Phainon’s utterly defeated, slightly flushed face haunted your memories, causing you to become restless. perhaps, you felt a little… well, bad, about leaving him alone when he oh-so obviously needed company — and if you’re not mistaken, he’s probably sleeping now, or just awoke with an insistent headache, completely hangover.

upon your guilt, a wonderful idea sparkled within your half-working brain — why not make him a gift, preferably some dry food, as if just to settle his stomach (in case the alcohol wanted to make its last revenge, and cause Phainon nausea as he hopelessly bent over the toilet).

with that, you concluded mere sugar cookies should be fitting — not overly sweet, but dainty enough for an appropriate gift — and most importantly, easy to make. for a second, your aspirations rose higher, and you almost found yourself calling up Mydei to ask him for assistance, but who in their right mind would get up at seven on the sunday morning? you quickly discarded the idea, afraid of meeting with his ire.

you were no cook, and baking was never your strongest forte, however after one hour of wrestling with the batter, and your slightly cranky oven, you were done (the recipe said it would only take thirty minutes, so maybe you were the problem). still, you couldn’t help but gaze at the product of your efforts with pride, now sitting nicely atop the tray. you tasted one — and while it wasn’t perfect, you deemed it as enough.

not so long ago, you let yourself buy a rather beautiful summer dress, with a ribbon tied loosely around its waist — and so you donned the piece, allowing the liberty of appearing somewhat presentable after a long night of tossing and turning. you didn’t bother packing the cookies into a container, instead parading straight into Phainon’s yard with tray in your hands — your thoughts reeled as you wondered what excuse should you offer. you made too many, and wished to share? they tasted shit, but you don’t want to waste? or — or anything, if only you didn’t have to admit that indeed, you were worried, and wanted to make him a pleasant surprise.

after all, it’s unlike you to be so openly kind — and you aren’t kind, no, you were always supposed to be stern and rigid. except now that facade you built up specifically for your difficult neighbor would be hard to uphold — with you dressed in a sweet summer dress, carrying cookies straight to his door.

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, feeling waves of heat crash over you, either due to nerves or the sun, that shone brightly down on you, even though it was still early in the morning. what could you say once you look him in the eye? how will he react?

you took a few steps forwards on the freshly cut grass, which Phainon seemed to enjoy mowing at the crack of dawn (as if only to spite you), and before you could spiral downwards your slide of overthinking, the front door opened, a familiar silhouette emerging — that’s not how it was supposed to go!

you stopped dead in your tracks, feeling the surprisingly feisty wind whip at your cheeks — Phainon didn’t seem to notice you at first, his irises downcast as he intently studied the pattern of his cobblestone stairs with a pensive expression. you coughed, immediately catching his attention — like a medicine, the man’s whole face lit up, and he beamed at you.

"[name], hi!" he greeted, skipping over to your frozen form. your vision briefly scanned his appearance — he obviously showered not so long ago, now changed into a set of new clothes. "how are you? i was afraid you might be mad at me for the stunt i pulled yesterday." he laughed sheepishly, his eyes locked on yours, as if he completely failed to spot the tray of cookies.

it wasn’t easy, but you forced yourself to speak up. "no, i’m not angry at you." you explained in a strained voice. "actually, i was— uh, you know, wondering if you’re okay, and all that."

Phainon blinked at you, still smiling like a moron, the cogs of his brain turning — and then something seemed to click, because his eyebrows narrowed in a heartfelt manner. "ah, don’t say…" he glanced down at the thing in your palms, the corners of his lips itching even wider.

you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "yeah, that’s for you." you affirmed, sensing his uncertainty. then, you took in his pale skin, and the prominent eyebags, hanging lowly under the twins of blue. "are you hangover? you look like shit."

that earned a chuckle, and you almost sighed in relief upon hearing the sound of joy you earlier seemed to despise so much. "a little.” he breathed, "still, i can’t believe my dear [name] was so kind to bake for me—!"

you growled in exasperation, and Phainon stopped his sentence before your grimace could deepen any further. "if you don’t like it, then i’ll just eat the cookies myself." you huffed, flustered by the teasing remark. you wanted nothing more but to let your soul step away from your body, and bolt the opposite way.

"no, no!" the man gesticulated animatedly, shaking his head as his features turned coy again, "i like it. i love it, actually. it’s very sweet of you to think about me— so, uh, thank you." he laughed nervously, his palms reaching towards the tray.

you rolled your eyes fondly at his stammering, opening your mouth to offer a response — but then, a sudden, definitely more stronger gust of wind hit you both, causing the ribbon of your dress to unravel loose, and fly up into the air. you gasped, your eyes widening — Phainon didn’t seem to think much when he practically jolted for the lace, outstretching his arm to catch it.

and, since fate thoroughly enjoyed making a fool out of you both — your neighbor stumbled over your own legs as his chest collided with yours, subjecting you two to the inevitable pull of gravity while the cookies went flying along with the tray, and you finally crashed onto the soft grass with a thud.

you gaped, staring at Phainon’s equally bewildered face, now hovering above yours. you tried to catch a breath the impact successfully knocked out of your chest — or maybe your inability of proper breathing was caused by the rather close proximity between you and the man.

"got it." he announced dryly, gripping the ribbon in his hand — which also happened to block out your shoulders, tightly trapped beneath him.

you don’t know what caused it to be so funny — all the effort you put into making the cookies, now wasted as they lied discarded somewhere, ants probably gathering to collect the sweetness of the dough. or maybe just how utterly terrified Phainon looked — pupils blown wide, eyebrows shoot practically into the hairline — his eyes studying you with panic, as if you’ve broken at least ten bones.

still, you couldn’t help but erupt into salves of laughter, pressing your eyelids shut as you continued to wheeze, so hard and intensely you started to feel tears gathering up, your whole stomach hurting. Phainon at first seemed confused, thinking that perhaps you hit your head too hard — but then joined in on your cackling, the sound ringing clearly by your ears.

you tried to recall when was the last time you laughed so hard — and you honestly couldn’t, because moments like these were unbelievably rare in your life. when you could let your guard down, completely disarmed — it would appear Phainon somehow managed to pry your psyche open, reaching into your brain, and fixing the circuits.

upon finally calming down, you slowly opened your teary eyes, looking up at the man — the sun shone brightly from behind his head, encompassing the while locks with its light, and you almost caught yourself thinking he looked like an angel, donning a halo. from this up close, you could easily discern the slightest scrunch of his nose, and the faint scar running across its bridge — Bubble’s making.

you hated yourself for it, but in a dream you don’t tell anyone, Phainon and you remain together. you don’t leave the countryside, finding a humble job. your neighbor helps you move in for good, tugging the suitcases with your stuff upstairs, and you let him decorate your room while you fold the clothes. you let him into your life, and he allows you into his — it would be a lie if you told you could remember when the line between neighbors, friends, and something more began to fade into one.

and then, when your poor brain began melting into a puddle, his voice snapped you out of the stupor. "[name], are you— are you alright?" he questioned, still smiling, albeit shyly now. oh, right — you almost forgot. he was still pressing you into the ground.

"what do you think?" you found yourself asking, that comically familiar sense of déjà vu washing over you at once.

in response, Phainon let out a timid chuckle, his face blushing a furious red, and you thought — maybe i’ll stay. perhaps that dream of yours, which previously appeared as an unattainable desire could become true. for some reason, you felt older, more tired now, and so you didn’t wish to part.

(you couldn’t. not when he looked at you like that.)

the man cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes. "i’m sorry. ah, the cookies, and—" he stammered, "your dress, i’m—"

that evoked a chuckle out of you, and you reached for the crown of his hair, giving him a consoling caress (which was supposed to help, but only made him shrink even more). "everything’s alright, no need to apologize." you hummed, smiling so widely it felt almost unnatural.

Phainon immediately nodded, making quick work of standing up, and helping you upright, perhaps a bit rapidly. "gosh, i’m so embarrassed now." he muttered, his tone bashful as he studied your form, as if searching for any injuries. "are you sure you’re alright?"

"i should be the one asking you that." you sighed, resting your hands on your hips. "you look as if you’re going to combust any moment."

the man laughed, scratching his nape — which was his nervous habit, you deduced by now. "i mean— yeah, yeah i s'pose so…" he mumbled under his breath, taking a reluctant step towards his house. "come inside, i’ll give you something to drink, or, i don’t know, have you eaten breakfast yet? i could make you some." he rambled, the loquacious tongue working overtime.

you nodded in a grateful manner, falling into step beside Phainon. then, you paused, as if remembering something. "oh, by the way, is that job offer you found for me still available?"

your neighbor stopped in his tracks, his face whipping towards you so quickly you were surprised to find he didn’t accidentally snap his neck — then, his expression morphed between astonishment and joy so vast you thought he might genuinely explode into a puff of confetti and glitter.

"what?" he asked dumbly, jaw slack.

a shrug. "you heard me."

the fuses in his mind seemed to lit up simultaneously, his contagious grin spreading over to your mouth. "so, does that mean you’re going to stay?" Phainon questioned, though it sounded more like a statement.

"yeah, i—"

before you could even think of finishing your sentence, strong arms whipped around your waist, hoisting you up into the air. you yelped, a surprised giggle ripping from your throat when Phainon twirled you around, cheering with joy as big as the life itself. you instinctively grabbed his shoulders to secure yourself, laughing along.

"h-hey, set me down!" you forced out, briefly glancing at the elderly couple strolling by, and watching the whole charade with evident amusement.

he shook his head in protest, pressing the side of his face to your shoulder, and you thought he truly resembled a dog. "oh, you’ve no idea how happy i am!" Phainon exclaimed — all you could do was roll your eyes in response, accepting defeat.

as he held you close — so tightly it felt as if your ribs might crush — all your uncertainties began to dissolve, vanishing like snow beneath the first sun rays of spring. at that moment, you knew with unwavering certainty that deciding to stay in this countryside was the right choice. undoubtedly so.

the truth is, everything was better with Phainon. no — everything has became better. ever since him, your dull days began to harbor more meaning. he didn’t simply enter your life — he seemed to force his way inside, bothering you with a multitude of jokes that hardly landed, and his nature of a chatterbox, and all the annoyances, and you still found yourself yearning for more.

he filled you up with that odd, wild desire to know everything about life. even the simplest words from his mouth, a casual “will you visit me today?”, began to sound with the weight of: "come home, [name]."

and you would. every time.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

how about (webseries + dream bbq? if it's no problem) ena with an s/o who has a child?? like ena discovers they have a child and when they become a thing, they introduce her to their child?? i'd also love to see mother ena <33

Yes oughh. She could be a good mother :(( /ref

Gonna put the hcs under a cut because I think I locked in a little too much haha

.........

Webseries!Ena

Above all things, your kid was your pride and joy.

They were basically a mini version of yourself. Boundless. Full of energy. Ever curious about the world around them.

They just spawned in one day while you stood around pondering what having a child would be like. It was only a fleeting thought, a small wish you kept in the confines of your heart, convinced it would never come to fruition.

But it seems like the Great Runas heard you and was feeling particularly generous.

Now you have someone who looks up to you for guidance and love, and for years it's always been that way. Just you two against the world.

Then Ena walked into your life, and she hasn't left since. She claims to have seen a "mini you" running around recently and thought you had shrunk in size, being disappointed she couldn't catch you.

Only then do you realize she's seen your kid but didn't know...

So after building up a close relationship with her, you figured now would be a good time for a proper introduction. You invite her over to meet them, and you explained to them beforehand about her arrival.

Untimely as ever, she walks in, but before you could say anything, she's rambling excitedly. "Salutations! So you're the little fragment of joy I saw running amok the other day. If not a clone, what's your relation to my beloved partner? Sister? Nephew? No, no, wait..you're their third cousin twice removed!" She grins, crouching down to their eye-level.

"Ena..this is my child."

"...ohh, I see. I see." Something in her tone shifts as her gaze meets yours. It's subtle, but she looks disheartened. "Dare I ask..who's the father? Or mother? Or...alternative parent?" Each question is laced with more dread than the last, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her geometric skirt.

Of course, you should have known...

"There's nobody else. I promise. It's always been just us." You reassured her, before looking at your kid with a smile. "This is Ena. The one I was talking about earlier. Don't mind her fancy words. She's been good to me."

"Woah..you're Ena??" They seem astonished, at first, but then a skeptical look crosses their face. "My friends say you guys are bad luck, and trouble always comes from you."

Your girlfriend's yellow half still smiles, but inside she could hear her cubic heart crack. Yet she maintains her composure. "Ahaha! Not to worry, little one! I have been your parent's most loving other-half for....3.5 consecutive months! The follies you hear are just that! I'm most confident that we'll get along!"

After that initial meeting, Ena tries spending more time with your kid...although they still seem nervous around her, which she chalks up to them listening to the rumors and utterly despising her presence.

She wants to set a good example, and she's been great at warning them about falling rain rocks, stopping them from taking blood samples/IDs/files from strangers, and making sure Moony (who gets the "fun aunt" designation) isn't being a bad influence.

Yet it never feels like it's enough, stressing as though she's the mother herself, even when you remind her she's not.

That crack in her heart has only gotten bigger. Like a neglected pebble that was lodged into a car's windshield last week.

Her Sad form had one major breakdown when she discovers your kid warmed up to Moony quicker than her, but you reassure her that they will. It'll just take some more time.

"Bu..But what if *hic* we wun out of tiiiiiime??????"

"We won't, Ena. I promise."

One night, while your kid was at a friend's sleepover, you and her went out to a party to celebrate an anniversary. She got Drunk and had to be carried back to your place, where she kept giggling and babbling nonsense about motherhood (yet somewhere in her nonsense, you could hear her sadness, deep longing, and desires for acceptance)--and she promptly passed out.

Your kid came home earlier than expected, saw her Demon side for a framerate or two and got scared, running to hide underneath their bed.

The next morning, you tell her what happened, and you wish you didn't.....because now she's facedown on the couch, sobbing her eyes out. "I give uuuppppp," she wails, hitting her fists against the cushions. "I-I'll be nothing morwe than a..a-a stwanger to them! They can bawely even look at me!!"

You only understand half of what she's saying, but as you try comforting her, your kid suddenly walks in, looking very confused.

"Oh hey, um...." You panic a little, although they see your girlfriend crying and quietly go over to her, their gaze full of worry.

"Mom?"

Immediately she falls silent and looks at them in shock, wiping away her static tears. "Wh-What...did you just call me?"

Even you're astonished.

After months of being referred to as "Miss Ena" and "My Parent's Girlfriend of 3.5 Months"....they finally call her "Mom".

She looks at you, then your kid, then you, and back to them, eyes still wide.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just nervous." They explain, feeling a little guilty for waiting this long. "It's only been us two for a long time. But I know you love my parent, and they love you, too. I want you around more often. So...I-I'm ready to call you "mom", if that's okay."

"Bu...But what about your fwiends?" She sniffles. "Y-You still believe them?"

"Nah, they were actually real jerks. So I left them. That's why I came home early last night."

"What? But..you've known them fowever...and now you're lonely because of me..." She mumbles, feeling sad that she's the reason for yet another ruined friendship. She's ruined a few of your past ones simply by existing...and now your kid's.

But they don't seem bothered by it at all. "I'd rather be lonely than have friends who talk bad about my mom all the time."

Hearing that word makes her cry again, but now her blue side is actually smiling for once. She sits up, allowing you kid to climb onto the furniture and into her lap, embracing her tightly. "Thank you..." She whispers. "Thank you so much."

Never before has she cried happily. It's a new feeling.

But she welcomes it. Just like she's ready to fully welcome your kid into her life.

All the while, you smile too, nearly tearing up yourself.

You couldn't be prouder.

Dream BBQ Ena

It's just another day at the office, where Ena eavesdrops on a conversation between you and Froggy.

"Ughh, fine. You can go home early. But you know...you should bring that duplicate of yours to work sometime! We could always use the extra-!"

"Hell no. My kid's not gonna get wrapped up in all this mess. And that's final."

"Ehh???? You get the final say??? Remind me again who hired you?"

"Um...Ena?"

"....right, erm...okay. You can go on, I guess. But I expect you back here early tomorrow." Froggy grumbles, suddenly getting the suspicion that you two are being watched, and promptly calls out to his coworker. "Oi! Ena!! Stop being a creep and come talk to us!"

Her head peeks around the corner, followed by the rest of her body. "Sorry to intrude on this private board meeting, fellow associates." She pretends she didn't hear anything about your kid--being unaware of their existence until literally right now.

Yet you know that she knows, as it's obviously bugging her when she walks you home (after promising Froggy that this is an escort, not an unmandated break). Salesperson is chatting away about tomorrow's goals and yesterday's deadlines, but you haven't heard a word out of Meanie yet.

She always found it odd that you didn't work the longer hours like she did, as though this job wasn't the core focus of your life. It wasn't in your blood. In your veins. It didn't define you. Consume you--unlike her.

Oftentimes she wonders what kind of life she'd lead if not burdened by her duties.

Today, she discovered the reason why you randomly asked if this job had paternity leave.

It's your kid, who just spawned into this world one day and hasn't left your side. They've grown some, but still they run to greet you after work like always, and you'd pick them up with a smile bigger than the sun.

However, this evening's routine is different because of Ena's presence, as she awkwardly stands in the doorway.

"Who's that?"

"Oh!" You set them down, clearing your throat. "I think it's high time that I introduce you to Ena. We work together, and we are together, if that makes sense."

"Ohhhh...so does this mean she's my mom now?"

The question is innocent, blunt, and unassuming, holding a twinge of excitement and hope, even.

Your kid adores you, but every now and then has wondered what it'd be like to have two parents. They've seen different media about it, and heard about it from friends, too, so you knew this subject would come up eventually.

While you've entertained the idea, you weren't sure about Ena's feelings towards motherhood, considering her job and all.

In embarrassment, you lightly scolded them and turned to apologize to your girlfriend...only to see that she's frozen on the spot, like a TV segment somebody forgot to unpause. Her geometric claws twitch at her side, and her eyes are hidden beneath her hat. It's like some uncomfortable memory had resurfaced...triggered simply by saying the word "mom".

You wonder what's wrong, but her Salesperson side slaps her out of the trance, and she teleports into the middle of your living room space, scooping up your kid. "Ah! I see we have a CEO in the making! Coming soon to a dying business near you! Do you plan to step into my beloved associate's shoes once they retire? Are you investing wisely?" She puts them down, and kneels, grinning from center line-to-ear. "What's your evaluation of my work-life balance, little entrepreneur?"

"....um. Good?"

"Thanks for your feedback."

Least to say, it's not the best introduction...but not the worst, either. You'll try again tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes, you decide to bring your kid to the Hub to meet your coworkers (after they've been practically begging you to), making sure they didn't go down into the casino.

While they play with Kane, you're sitting on the pier, overlooking the bloody ocean. Ena shows up and sits beside you, but her movements are rigid. She's not chipper. She looks uncomfortable, and her Meanie side seems to crave conversation. An explanation.

So you talk.

"Darling..I'm sorry I didn't mention them before." You frowned, your hand resting on hers. "I wanted you two to meet a lot sooner, but-"

"Is there someone else?" Her voice is flat, although you detected a slight tremor in its tone.

Sure, Meanie would yell at people if she even thought they were trying to flirt with you....but this was different. This was insecurity at its core, and it's understandable for her to feel that way. If it was reversed, you'd get insecure too.

"No. It's only been [Child] and I. I'd never do that to you."

"......."

"Look, I know what they called you was a little..awkward. I'm sorry. I already talked to them abou-"

"They're your reason."

"Huh?"

"They're your reason for what you do. Everything you do, you do for them. But...where's mine?" Tiny cracks and vines begin to creep along her body, and her hands tremble. Salesperson doesn't interfere this time. "Wh-What..am I even doing here, [y/n]? I take the stupid jobs I'm given...I clear the smoke....and for what? Myself?! WHAT AM I EVEN FIGHTING FOR ANYMORE?!! A MINIMUM WAGE??? A POINTLESS EXISTENCE???"

"Ena. Hey. Hey."

She suddenly looks at you, static tears falling freely from her eyes. But you bring her into your arms before she could think of drying them. And she buries her head into your chest, clutching at your uniform, desperate for grounding.

Ever since her flashback when you two met the vending machine entity in the Lonely Door...you've been worried sick for her well-being. You didn't wanna see her fall apart like that again. Especially not after the rain rocks consumed her in the white and barren Uncanny Streets, and you thought you've lost her forever.

Your biggest regret would've been that she never got to meet your child...

"If you want...my little entrepreneur could be your reason, too." You suggested, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, as though you've just forgiven her of all sins. "When we get to the Boss, we'll take them down, for their sake. All the work we do along the way? It'll be for them, too. We can both parent them. It might be hard with our job and all, but...we can make it work."

"...you'd...let me to be their mother?" Her voice breaks. "You trust me with such a sacred task? But before you said...you didn't...wh-what if I-?"

"Nothing bad will happen to them, my love. We got our coworkers here to look out for them." You brush away her tears, removing her hat so you could kiss the top of her head. And she cuddles back against you.

Seeing her react this way made you wonder if, maybe in a past life, she was a mother at some point...or perhaps, more tragically, she had a child and lost them during the war, and only Meanie was left to carry the burden.

It's no wonder she was falling apart in your arms at the prospect of helping you raise your kid. She didn't want the same tragedy to befall them.

"Don't think of it as an "assignment" or "task" I'm giving you. Something tells me you really, really wanna be in their life. So...do you?"

Before she could give you an answer, your kid comes over, oblivious at first. "Kane is funny. He wants to invite me to a party! Can I.......Miss Ena?" They look at your girlfriend in worry. "Are you..okay?"

She manages to compose herself and sniffles, before Salesperson takes the reigns again. "I'm..operating at a sufficient level." Her smile is gentle as she sits up, her eyes warm as she looks at them. "After much discussion, I am open to being your co-parental unit. Complete with a lifetime supply of love and protection protocols." She extends her clawed hand to them. "Starting today, you may address me as "mom", "mother"....whatever fits your budget."

Your kid takes her hand, but is quick to turn that handshake into a full embrace. "Sounds cool, mom. "

It felt extremely foreign to Ena, to receive physical contact from an entity besides you that's not violent in nature.

But this one is related to you. Made of your own flesh/blood/code/etc. So in a way...you were the one embracing her. And in that way, it made her feel comfortable enough to wrap her arms around them.

Something about this moment brought her peace, as though GØD finally decided to give her a break.

For once, everything was quiet...

Only for it to be disturbed by Kane's yelp of fear and the sound of a meteor crashing.

But right now, none of you were worried about it.

[musclesandhammering]

Don’t be sorry, I live for meta like this, lol.

You know, I didn’t even make the connection but what you said was so true about Odin forgiving Thor and Loki because they ultimately came around to protecting the kingdom whereas Hela ended up taking her anger out on Asgard.

I could analyse this family’s issues for hours but I think it’s really interesting how you could make a 3-circle venn diagram explaining the various comparisons and contrasts that each child has to the others in regard to Odin’s parenting of them.

Like, all three of them had an unhealthy dynamic with their dad. Thor was clearly the golden child- the one Odin was closest to and most proud of- while hela and Loki were kept at a metaphorical distance due to their rebellious history and reluctance to concede. On the other hand, Hela was set apart from the boys in that, as you mentioned, she never recovered from her wayward spiral and because of that, was never embraced by her father again. Finally, Loki is different from Thor and hela because, where they’re both (biologically and metaphorically) beneficiaries of his imperialism, Loki is a victim of it, and should have a completely different perspective on Odin’s warmongering than the other two.

All of that is to say that it’s fascinating how, despite them having mutual experiences as well, they also all have very individual grievances re: Odin’s treatment of them- and that lets us see Odin himself from three completely distinct angles. I’ve mentioned in the past that it’s like they all represent different era’s of his personal journey. Hela is his full-on conquerer days and all that baggage that came with it. Thor is his attempt to be better and leave those things behind him (even though, as we see with Thor, all is not perfect there. Despite his attempts at benevolence, the empire is still going strong, even if he’s not actively invading new realms). And Loki is the skeletons in his closet- Loki’s very origin is a reminder that Odin is still very much a coloniser and just like Loki’s heritage, his solution is not to deal with it in an atonement-seeking way, but rather try to cover it up).

That being said, none of this means Odin is a bad person or doesn’t care about his kids. In fact, I think it’s a very good parallel to real life boomer parents (lol) who love their children but are so tangled in their olden mindsets that they’re never fully able to love them in a healthy way. They may try to learn and get marginally better overtime, but unfortunately they don’t usually ever become model parents. Odin realises he’s made mistakes with his kids and the guilt over that haunts him, but he also doesn’t know the correct way to handle things. Even when he’s trying to improve, he’s still basing his self corrections on that same old warmongering king-before-father thought pattern and because of that, he just makes the same mistakes in a slightly less obvious way.

Anyway, I’m done yapping I guess. I love finding people who see Odin as a complex character instead of either “he’s an evil pos” or “stfu he was a great dad!” because, to me, the whole story is way more tragic if Odin and Frigga (and Laufey and Farbauti and Hela’s mom I guess) weren’t trying to mess their kids up but ended up doing it anyway.

brb just thinking about how Odin banished Hela a thousand years ago and then he banished Thor in 2011 and then his anger turned to Loki and Loki decided to banish him to a retirement home before Odin could get him

[dexxtrosee]

In the middle of the night

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

TW: mentions of canon violent mass event, panic attack.

He doesn’t talk to you about it.

Days pass and pass, and then they turn into weeks. More patients come, more patients die, more patients live. Jake doesn’t talk to him, Leah's parents invite him to the funeral. Still, he doesn’t tell you about any of it, aside from shaking his head when you ask when Jake's coming over again. It was on the news, he's not stupid enough to think you have no clue about what he went through, you just don't know how bad it was.

You don’t know any of it from his own mouth, and still, it bothers him when you don’t seem even slightly surprised every time he wakes you up with his nightmares and his crying. You just let him hide his face on your neck, let him clutch your body against his while the sobs wreck him. You push his hair back, kiss his forehead, wait until he's calm enough to manhandle him back to lying down. He falls asleep to your fingers tracing the lines of his face more often than not.

One particularly bad night, he manages to wake himself up in silence, petrified. You don’t seem to notice at first, breath soft and slow, still sleeping. He can’t move, can’t make a single sound. His chest feels tight, his head is drowning in screams and sobs and people telling him he's not good enough.

The bed feels too soft, his shirt is choking him. Why couldn't he save them? Why is he even fucking trying? Fuck, he can't breathe. Adamson died on his watch, he made him suffer through a horrible, long death because he couldn't let go. And everyone had to watch him do it again with Leah, cling to an impossible task while docens of people needed him and she was already fucking dead. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Robby. Hey, Robby, look at me. Open your eyes love, come on."

Your voice makes him jump. He realizes for the first time he's hyperventilating now, squeezing his eyes shut.

God, he feels pathetic for putting you through this again and again. You're gonna end up leaving him, he's sure. He's too much and too little at the same time, more baggage than man. He can’t keep doing this to you, he can't, he can't he can't-

"Robby, open your eyes."

He feels you grab his arms and pull him into a sitting position. His entire body breaks into shivers, his heart trying its best to burst out of his chest.

"Robby, open your eyes."

When he finally does, he doesn’t like the concern plastered over your features. He pushes you away slightly, bending to the side.

"I-I think I'm gonna be sick."

You don’t seem to listen to him, instead jumping over the blankets until you're kneeling by his side. You push his head back with the heel of your hand, and he closes his eyes again. He doesn’t think he can handle your worry right now.

A balloon stretches inside his throat. His hands fly to clutch at his neck, but your hand grips them both and pushes them down until they're pressed against his legs. You're seeing right through him, right into all the things he's tried hiding from you ever since he met you.

He doesn’t want it to reach you.

"Robby, I think my lip is bleeding. Can you take a look at it?"

Your question freezes him on the spot. Did he accidentally hit you? Oh fuck, fuck-

"I bit my lip too hard earlier today, I was sewing up my green sweater and got lost in my head. It's the one you gave me, remember? The knitted one."

Robby frowns, squeezing your hand tighter. The green one? The one he got in Philly after your third date?

"The one you say feels too rough unles you're wearing it."

Ah, Robby remembers that one. It felt itchy, he asked about it when he gave it to you and you put it on right there. Then you had shaken your head and smiled, telling him it was softer on the inside.

"Open your eyes, babe."

Slowly, he does. You're bent in front of him, and there's a small speck of blood close to the edge of your mouth.

He raises his hand, cleaning it up with shaky fingers. It doesn’t really help, just spreads it over your lower lip and paints it a faint red. It makes him chuckle, but the sound resembles an animal in agony.

Out of nowhere, he feels something cold and metallic press against his neck. He gasps, unintentionally pulling you closer.

You let him. You shuffle closer until you're kneeling between his legs, and he wraps his arms around you. His face is wet, his entire body feels weak, made of paper.

"Where did you even get that sweater from? You may need to buy me a new one if I can’t save this one."

It was a local, old shop. The owner was an older man, running the store on his own, if he had to guess. Full of old furniture, the kind that lasts generations.

"I-I can try and h-help you mend it."

Your chest shakes slightly against his, laughing. He buries his head on your shoulder. "Sure you can, doc."

Minutes pass. Your hand tangles inside his hair, the other caressing his back up and down. Your warmth seeps into his clothes, his body, relaxing it until he feels he can barely stay upright.

You kiss his cheek, his temble, his shoulder. He can’t really help it when he bursts into tears.

"Take a deep breath, it’s okay. I'm right here."

His sobs rock the entire bed. He wishes he could hug you close enough to merge his soul with yours.

"It's okay love, you can let it out."

In the middle of the night, with the other half of his soul wrapped around his, he finally does.

[twistedpink]

SOBBING at the thought of Azul as a father 🥹🥹🥹p not the part of "hell yeah we tried forever to have this kid thrust thrust" but how would he and reader form this family, like omg taking care of the kids ❤️ i want to sit on the couch with azul beside me while holding our baby 🍼

I’ve been thinking of this for WEEKS. You’ve ruined me. @bju3c0re (kids are referred to as “they”, reader is gn but heavily implied afab)(Azul could always be the mother lol)

Husband!Azul’s a MESS in the delivery room every time. To the point where he’s getting ice chips,, Of course there’s nobody blaming him for getting a little sweaty over a BABY coming into the world, but there’s always a doctor who assumes it’s your first :( It’s not earth shattering to be dissected by the hospital staff because they’re on his payroll, but if his baby jitters got out to the twins? I’m sure you’d be seeing a lot more of them!! The tweels loooovvveeee the babies, and they’ll never miss an opportunity to poke at their wittle faces- or Azul’s fragile confidence as a dad <3

Husband!Azul just can’t stop calling you what the kids do,, It’s not like he means to, he’s just got baby brain!!! Your big bad business hubby dies a little (lot) on the inside when he uses toddler lingo on official powerpoints, but it’s all a part of your evil plan to get a stay at home dad in the picture >:) He’s loathe to admit it, but cooking for you in his frilly apron and skimpy shorts isn’t sounding terrible when it’s time to review his budget forms,,, Its only a matter of time!!

No matter how many you end up having, husband!Azul always wants another baby :( As an only child the rare family photos he sees feel so empty without other sets of kiddie tentacles- nevermind how much his parents are insisting on a team of trust fund babies,, His mum took up knitting for them, and you love her more than him! Are you really going to cut her off before she masters mittens? Besides, Think of the discounts!! Your poor first born’s getting shoved in the face of every shopkeep who’s willing to listen, and with a baby giggle that cute, it’s all of them.

Husband!Azul’s a MEGA hot dad tm but it’s so hard to make him believe it :( The pepper stubble he’s got going on and arm definition from carrying the kids around is to KILL for, but at every family photoshoot he offers to take the picture,, It ticks you off to no end that he’s trying to hide away from cameras again. so what else were you supposed to do other than kiss him stupid and get it done? The kids look like they’ll hurl any second now, but sitting pretty on the same bench every year is Azul covered in kisses.. It’s worth every penny!!

Husband!Azul is completely, irrevocably obsessed with you and the little family you’ve made,, He never thought him of all people could find a love so gentle. And yeah, maybe he gets a little controlling with the kids once in a blue moon, but he wants nothing more than good lives for them.. Better than his, at the very least. But above all else, he’s holding out for them to find their own you, because he’s already antsy for grandkids!!

[hearts444norris]

My Kink Is Karma

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a turbulent break up, Max left you all alone, dealing with the pain from his poisonous words. He was thriving, having the time of his life, and you were determined to see his downfall.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don’t do that), degradation, Mean!Max, Mean!Reader, they are both toxic to each other, revenge sex, hate sex. All the good stuff

I’m on my Max kick later, specially since the last race. Hope you guys can enjoy my freak with me!!

Three months, twenty eight days since he left. Actually, since you left. No, even worse, since you were kicked out of his stupid cubicle of an apartment. Why is every goddamn apartment in Monaco so small either way? It’s like millionaires have a kink for minimalism or something. There were still a couple of his t-shirts hanging around, shoved down the back of a drawer you never opened. You contemplated burning them down, one by one, or selling them on e-bay, you would probably make a lot of money with it. However, the anger was still boiling hot in your bones, picking up anything with his scent on it would cause world war three, and you didn’t want that. Not because you don’t hate him, you do, wholeheartedly, but you would rather see the universe handle it, slowly, sadistically, because you always believed in karma, plus, he didn’t deserve any type of reaction from you.

However, almost four months is a whole lot of time of waiting for Max Verstappen to get something bad coming his way. Somehow, that blue eyed man is always on top. McLaren had the fastest car and he was still dominating, pole position, podiums, even fucking won a race against all odds. Max Verstappen not only defied your beliefs around love, but your beliefs in general. He tested your faith. Because in this wednesday afternoon, sitting on your plane sit, next to a crying baby and an exhausted mother, you were wondering if the universe gave a flying damn about how much that man hurt you. Gods? Are you listening over there? He left me with no direction, no sense of belonging, stole my pride, joy and clothes. I was left empty. So why the fuck is he the one thriving?

That’s why you decided to make matters with your own hands. Karma isn’t real? No problem. You would create karma and shove it down his throat. Max Verstappen is not going to hell when he dies? Then, you will make sure he lives through hell while you are around. And the plan starts with a suitcase and an economic class ticket to Bahrain.

The city was scalding. The complete opposite of an early spring in Monaco. Too many people, a legion of tourists who were there for the Grand Prix. You looked around, analyzing the environment, but he was everywhere. In t-shirts, flags, posters, dolls. “The flying dutchman”, “The Dutch Lion”. That was the worst one. A lion? That motherfucker was just as coward as a toddler being confronted by their angry parent.

Hey. Just landed. Where was the place I was supposed to wait for the driver?

Max: Gate seven. He’s already there.

You don’t answer. He doesn’t deserve an answer. On the other hand, if the plan was going to work perfectly, you needed him to believe you were desperate for him. Because Max has an ego, he craves the attention. It’s Machiavellian, but any current pain is worth the final result. What even is a single text message compared to seeing Max Verstappen’s downfall live and in bright colors?

You walked towards gate seven. Sure enough, the man was there, holding a little white plank with your surname written on it. As if it was needed, since to his left, there he was, wearing his stupid red bull cap, white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. Classic Max. You weren’t taken by surprise, at the end of the day, Verstappen was as predictable as playing chess with a child, at least to you. You knew he was going to be there, just to torment you, prove, somehow, that he never left, his scent, manners, soul, were all surrounding you, everyday since that rainy tuesday when all hell broke loose.

As you approached both men with a confidence acquired from whatever cheap wine they offered on the flight, you could swore you saw a glimpse of relief in his arctic blue eyes.

Max was relieved. Seeing you, full shape, materialized in front of him like a dying man’s last vision, as beautiful as ever, maybe even more, left him with a feeling of immense relief. Because ever since the break up, he never saw or spoke to you. He didn’t even understand how the hell that was possible, considering Monaco was just a big gated commune. He had no idea, however, that for those three months you barely left your bed, purposefully avoiding him. The funny thing is, Max could’ve swore on his career that he saw a different type of glimmer surrounding you, because as you gave him a shy kiss on the cheek, shivers went down his neck, all the way though his spine. There was uncertainty in his mind if, at that moment, you were a salvation from heaven or his worst nightmare.

“I didn’t actually think you would come?” He couldn’t control the excitement in his voice. To you? Pathetic.

“You know Bahrain has always been my favorite circuit.” Lies. “Plus, I really wanted to talk.” More lies. Oh, weren’t you just the best pretty little liar?

‘I agree”

Max had no idea of what you planned. With all the innocence of a little boy in love, who fucked up, he believed that you wanted to try again, that you were able to give him another chance. If for three months you were crying underneath the shower steam, he was begging via text messages, voicemails, red roses and handwritten notes to talk to you and sort things out. In his mind, his words were bad, a disaster. “Your career isn’t important, you can’t keep crying over this shit.” Actually, the words were bad, but the context was even worse. To be fair, you were crying over a minor problem, a grain of sand in the midst of long beach, still, that was the result of a build-up that lasted weeks, days having to suffer countless abuse in your job, burnout was imminent. Haven’t you been breaking down, releasing every tension from the stress of your career, you could have actually forgiven him. In contrast, the coldness and nonchalant in his voice when saying “your career isn’t important” was what actually got to you. “So, I can’t cry over my boss raging at me from mistakes he made, but you can cry whenever your stupid little car isn’t 0.5 seconds faster than another car? Why? Because being a Formula 1 racer is the only job that matters? Huh, Max?”

That whole argument spiraled to a rabbit hole of pointing fingers and repressed emotions. Deep down, you knew you hated your job, you wanted to leave every time you stepped a foot in that building, but Max didn’t need to know that. And he had no right assuming that it wasn’t important.

Arriving at his hotel, the boy next to you handled a room key. 405.

“It’s right next to mine”

You gave him a look, the one that said “well, obviously.” Another predictable move. God, if any other driver paid enough attention to him, you were convinced he wouldn’t be called Mad Max at all, because, in reality, Verstappen was as clear as a crystal glass.

The whole way up to the room, Max was a gentleman, carrying bags, hands on your lower back, guiding the way, walking in front. Just like you never stopped being his girlfriend. Maybe, in his mind, you never did.

The room was brightened with yellow lights, contrasting to the cold of the atmosphere between both ex-lovers. Even though you were trying your best to not give anything away, Max wasn’t stupid, he could read you with eyes closed, he knew there was an unsettledness in your movements, he just couldn’t point exactly why or what is going on.

“Do you want me to leave? Or do you just want to get it out of the way?” Max didn’t quite know what he meant with “it”, whatever it was, it has been filling his lungs with deep anxiety. And you knew he was suffering. For a man who was used to get anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, being completely lost in the matters of the heart, hurt his pride and gave him tremendous affliction.

“I was hoping we could catch a nice dinner, properly talk with some good food and wine. What do you say?” The words came off of your tongue spontaneously, as if you didn’t rehearse them 300 hundred times during that 11 hour flight.

“Sure, yeah, fine. Even better with people around… That way you won’t have the courage to kill me.” You could hear the tension in his words when he joked, and he could hear the mockery in your chuckle just as well.

“Pick me up at eight?”

The fact that you made no comment around his stupid joke bothered him to his core. Which is the reason he just nodded and left the room without saying anything else. Just as soon as that door closed, you rushed to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet. You couldn’t say what the fuck you were feeling, nausea, pain, anxiety, shame, guilt, rage. You should just open the door, go to his room, throw things around, break glasses, throw his suitcase on the hotel pool, tell the press he is leaving red bull and get on a plan, never look back. Having to wait for revenge to be served cold is what drives everyone insane, and no one talks about that.

Countless of hours later, after two long crying sessions, and screaming, and burning pages of your journal, you were ready. Dressed up casually. You wouldn’t give him too much, because you knew he was expecting to show up as beautiful as ever, Lady Di in her revenge dress, so the fact that you were just dressed as his Y/N, raw, honest beauty, broke his heart. Because when he opened the door to your room, he was taken by your perfume and your pure self, just like he did for three years every time he came home from a race weekend and you were waiting for him on the couch.

“Come on, Max, you don’t need to give this look.” You were surprised by how effective flirting was in maskaring hate.

“What look?”

“Like I’m your long lost childhood love you encountered 20 years later.” He shook his head, slightly.

“You’re something like that.”

Something like that. What the fuck did he mean?

“We should go.” You said a little bit more desperate than you hoped. Maybe due to the fact that you were dying to leave. “Lead the way.”

*

God. Wasn’t middle eastern food the key to all your problems? Maybe if the scent of blended spices and dates filled your nostrils before, there would be no reason for any of this.

For the past couple of hours, you were focused on trying to enjoy the delights Sakhir had to offer. Notice the word trying. Because with Max Verstappen looking like a god sent angel in front of you, no amount of cloves and cinnamon would be able to erase the scent of wanting that was emanating from him.

Max was paying extra attention to you. Every time you looked excited about whatever you were tasting, he could catch a proper breath. However, one look into your eyes later and he has filled with thousands of questions in his head.

“So, what is the strategy for this weekend?”

“Do you actually want to talk about my racing strategies for the weekend?” Yes. You did. How were you supposed to ruin his life if you had no clue what was going on with the only thing that mattered to him. “You said you wanted to talk, Y/N.”

“We are talking.” He raised his eyebrow. You sighed, stomach twisting in ten thousand knots. “Fine…”

Before you could select which carefully constructed phrase you compartmentalized for this very moment, Max, with his usual quickness, took the upfront.

“Please, come back to me.”

It’s not that you weren’t expecting that he would say something like this, you just weren’t expecting how much your internal organs would fire up as a response. In that particular moment, you could swore you forgot all of the lines of the plan you spent one month obsessing over. He broke your character, for just a slight of a second, a fraction.

“You really hurt me.” For the first time in this whole entire trip, you were being honest.

“I know. I am truly deeply sorry. I fucked up.”

You just stared. Contemplating if you were going to let him talk a little more. The dark twisted part of your brain was enjoying seeing him act as pathetic as you once did for him. That same side of your brain was already collecting ideas. Screw that one month evil plan, Max was giving everything you need to do even more damage than you anticipated.

“Let me show you how much I regret it. Let me make it up to you.” The phrase was constructed as if he was asking for permission, but both of you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t backing up any soon.

“These past few months were hell to me, Max.”

The words were true, but there was no emotion in your voice to actually reflect the pain you went through. Max had no idea. He would never guess. It seemed to him that you were giving something, but a weird feeling in his gut was sparking a doubt that you were hiding something.

“I will fix this up.”

His legs under the table were shaking like the first time he stepped out of a Formula 1 car. Max was speaking as he was walking barefoot on shattered glass. There is no way for you to fix this up. Only me. You wanted to answer. You couldn’t.

“Are you excited for the race?”

The deviation of the subject showed Max you were uncomfortable, which is why he decided that was enough of pushing. He didn’t know there was a strategy underneath your tongue.

“Are you?” He fired back, letting himself taste a bit of the wine that you chose. It was bitter, dry, unlike the sweet rosés you’d usually go for.

“Thrilled.” Your lips curled into a smirk stained with maroon liquid. Something shifted in the tone of your words. It was malicious, Max could sense it, but he was a man after all, guile and sexiness go hand-in-hand, specially coming from a girl holding a glass of wine.

“I’m ready to head back, whenever you want to go.”

“Are we not going to order dessert?”

Nope. He wanted to leave. Matter of fact, as soon as possible. He wanted to take you to his room, or your room, whichever one is closest to the elevator door, and peel off every lying secret you were hiding behind your sore, tired eyes.

“Do you want dessert?”

You looked at his eyes, then his lips, then his neck, back at his eyes. Licked your lips, the bitterness of the wine reminding you of pure sex.

“Maybe not from here.”

You knew you had control over him by the way he looked at you, like a puppy begging for food. Max didn’t even try to hide how much he was longing to just touch you in any way, shape, or form. God, men were so easy.

A few formalities and street lights later, you were back to the golden architecture of the place you were staying. It wasn’t your first time in the country, but it was your first time in this hotel, hadn’t it been the circumstances of your visit, you could have actually enjoyed the experience.

The elevator door shut, fourth floor was a short ride. Helped to ease the tension. Not too much, but just enough.

“I can’t find the key to my room.”

Max knew it was inside your purse, you knew it too, obviously. There was just no reason to bother looking it up.

“Hm. Thankfully, I got you.” He held the white car between his fingers, flashing them with a teenage boy smile.

“My hero,”

For the first time during this night, you felt the tension leaving with the winds of Sakhir. Sex was not on your plan, in fact, quite the opposite. However, you forgot there was no such thing as a plan when it came to Max Verstappen. Specially not when it came to desire and love. Plus, a girl is allowed to enjoy herself, it’s not like you were going to get soft on him now, right?

The closing door blocked all the noise. Suddenly, the room was carried with heavy air, lost faith, gained hope, misery, all at once. If you listened closely, you were able to hear Max’s heart beating irregular beats. It felt to him like he was about to have a stroke, a heart attack, a breakdown, or all of the above. You were danger, your presence was too powerful. He needed to get control back, or he would just spiral.

But you would not let him. Not right now.

Just as quick as you left him that night, you were pulling him by his neck. Lips connected like they were never meant to leave each other in the first place. Looking for each other’s air because the room was getting smaller and smaller. This was the point of the night in which you didn’t need to perform. You were not doing it for the plot, the revenge, you were doing it because you desperately craved him.

Max had only a few times seen you this way. It was unusual, but he wasn’t complaining. He didn’t quite like the fact that if you asked him to kneel down and bark, he’d do it, however. And he was afraid you’d notice it and just torture him the whole night. The boy was just a little too late.

“You said you wanted to make it up to me.” Max didn’t know how you managed to get a full sentence out in the middle of what was going on, if he opened his mouth all that would leave his throat were pathetic sighs and moans. “Then prove it.”

You pushed him away, slightly. Max’s chest underneath his navy blue t-shirt didn’t hide his erratic breathing.

“I am proving it to you.”

He leaned in, but was met with another slight push. This time, mixed between his confusion, was frustration. Just as much as you wanted him, he wanted you. No, he needed you. Needed to be close to you as if there was a war going on outside and that was the only way to keep both of you safe.

“No.” No? What the hell no meant? “Kneel.”

Your command was firm, imperative. You were no stranger to take charge in the bedroom with Max, but it usually lasted around five minutes, a way to spice things up or push him to the edge until he finally broke. In a way, it was fake-control, because you knew it was just a matter of time until you were at his mercy. But not this time.

“What?” He heard you well, the question was put there simply as a way of making you change your mind.

“You heard me, Verstappen. Kneel and beg for me.”

Max didn’t have a chance to respond or brush it off with a scoffed laugh, your hands were already on his shoulders, applying force to bring him down. It wasn’t gravity the one who put Max Verstappen to his knees, it was the magnetic force of your words and the torment of his desires for you.

“Schatje, come on.”

“Hm. That all you got?”

The truth is, Max was running out of protests. You knew it took him a lot to put his pride to the side. He wanted you back, but there was no way he was going to beg for it. Max Verstappen doesn’t beg, for anyone. Actually, he never needed to, he always got what he wanted. But his resources were coming to an end, because your posture and the way you were demanding the room, left him with no choice.

With the gentlest touch, like you were made out of the rarest crystal, Max’s hand came to the back of your calves, slowly making their way to the back of your knees. He stopped there, didn’t dare going further up. His hands were big enough to almost wrap around it completely, and he applied pressure. It was a simple gesture, but goddamn it you missed his fingers touching you, you didn’t care where.

You looked down, right hand travelling to his hair, fingers intertwining between some strands, making a mess. He always looked beautiful with messy hair.

“Please.” A kiss on your right knee. “Please, forgive me.” A kiss on the left knee. “I will do anything for you.”

The hand that was on his hair made its way to his cheek. Your thumb brushing the soft skin underneath his eyes. Max was flushing, the blood was rushing everywhere through his veins, heart pounding, maybe after this he should cancel his weekend, because there is no way he would make it out alive.

Then, all of the sudden, your gentle rub became a slap. Not a rough slap, in fact, only a couple of taps, to call out his attention. And, damn, maybe a hard slap would be less humiliating than this. And it didn’t help when you had a devilish grin in your lips.

“Come on, pretty boy, just a little bit more. You’re almost there. Look at me.”

He was. Like a puppy. Like a dog starving. His pupils were so dilated you couldn’t tell his eyes were pale blue. You were hell. That wasn’t you. Looked like you, wore your clothes, the same old vanilla perfume, but if his whole life Max saw you as his sweet girl, this time he was seeing you as a mythical creature, completely transformed into something else.

“I fucked up. I can’t live without you. Please, Y/N, I am about to go insane. I fucking love you, just come back to me, please. I can’t make it without you.” His chin rested somewhere on top of your legs.

You smiled. Humiliating Max sexually was not a part of the plan, but it was so satisfactory you could go straight back home with fulfillment in your bones.

“Good enough.”

You backed out and walked straight to the door. In a sudden movement, Max got up, his legs felt like jelly, his head was spinning. There was no time for him to catch up, you had already left. He heard something like a see you tomorrow, but wasn’t completely sure. In that particular moment he was out. Interpreting his feelings wasn’t always easy, and right now it sure as hell was the hardest thing for him to do, considering there was a mix of everything inside his guts.

It took all of your strength to not go back, just to get a glimpse of how Max Verstappen looked completely desolated, alone in his hotel room, frustrated, confused. Exactly like you were that afternoon, three months ago. If you suffered, he was going to suffer the exact same thing, but ten times more.

*

“Max, you good? Looks like you’re about to throw up.”

Sitting in a round table, his salad was untouched, his cup still filled with water. The voices were mushy, he couldn’t tell which driver elaborated that question. Truth is, he wasn’t paying attention to anything else, too busy looking around, searching for any glimpse of you. Anything to demonstrate that you were still there, because you could probably be back home by now, laughing while sitting on your sofa, seeing his misery on live television.

He was brought back to the real world with Charles’ voice commanding his attention, because finally, for the first time during that stupid lunch, someone said something that actually mattered.

“Mate, what is Y/N doing here? I thought you two broke up.”

“Where is she?” His voice sounded so desperate, so pathetic, Lando couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Just saw her talking to Honer when I passed the Red Bull garage. Could’ve swore I was seeing things, but it was actually her. Are you two back together?”

Midst sentence Max was already gone, rushing through the crowd as fast as he could before it was too late. He looked desperate, like he was looking for water in a desert island.

The meters to the garage seemed like the distance to the moon. His eyes were filled by the sigh of Horner, talking to someone else, not relevant, nor for him, because the someone else wasn’t you. The conversation seemed important, and it would be rude to interrupt, but Max couldn’t care less.

“Christian, where is Y/N?”

Horner turned around to look at his driver, bright fake smile. A little annoyed that he interrupted, but there was no way he was going to show Verstappen any annoyance.

“Well, hello to you too, Max. I was meaning to ask, what is she doing here? Thought you left her.”

“Where the fuck is she?” Max asked again, this time his tone showed little to no patience.

Horner narrowed his eyes, if anyone else in this world talked to him like this, God would feel sorry for them. But again, the golden boy could do anything he pleased.

“If I’m not mistaken, she was looking for you. My guess is that she is waiting on your driver room.”

The boy left. No thank you, no sorry, just simply vanished like dust.

The fragile door was opened with violence. This time, Max was quicker, not giving you a chance to play your game.

Eventually, after two days of deep contemplation, torture and screaming into his pillow, Max decided that he had enough of your games. Now, both of you were going to play things his way. Or so he thought.

“Why the fuck are you here? What the fuck do you want?”

You were sitting, legs crossed. His presence was dominating, but you didn’t break character.

“What happened to good mornings? No one taught you proper manners?”

“Cut the fucking bullshit, Y/N. Why are you doing this?”

You got up, making your way towards him. Not too close and Max thanked God for that, because one more step and he would just break down again, crumble into crushed pieces of a boy. However, standing from a safe distance, his mind was taken by frustration, he wanted answers just as well as he wanted to rip your clothes off and make you pay for the little stunt you pulled two nights ago.

“I want to see you suffer.”

You knew he would eventually caught up. It’s Max, he is smart. And if anyone would understand the reasonings behind your feelings, it would be him. So there was no reason to hide your true intentions anymore.

Max nodded, hands on his waist. He expressed some sort of laugh as a substitute for just yelling and screaming. He had done that already.

“How’s that going for you?”

“Not nearly as close as the amount of suffering I am hoping for.” Max was taken back by the cruelness and coldness in your words. “I want you to regret leaving me ‘til the day you are buried six feet under ground. If you suffered ten times of what I did for those past months, still, wouldn’t be enough.”

“I don’t know how to break this to you, sweetheart. But making me kneel and beg, although I appreciate the effort, it was cute, isn’t really close to the pain of getting dumped. You’ll have to work harder than that.”

Your lips curled into a wide spread smile.

“I know.”

Up and close to his eyes, between your delicate fingers, a medium sized black piece of something he had an idea of, but didn’t want to believe it was real.

“What is this?”

“You should get going, Maxie, quali is about to begin.”

“You removed a piece from my fucking car?! Are you fucking insane?! This is psychotic, Jesus fucking Christ!” His eyes widened, his hands went through his hair in a desperate act. “How the fuck did you even manage to do that?!”

“A lady never tells.”

Max thanked the universe when he heard a knock on the door, because God only knows what his next move was going to be, hadn’t he been interrupted by GP at that second.

“Buddy, we have 10 minutes, you better come.” He looked at the clueless man standing at the door, then back at you, who put on your best innocent smile, hands behind your back like you just didn’t do the most devilish, disgraceful thing he has ever seen.

“Yeah, okay, give me two seconds.”

As GP closed the door, Max took a step closer to you. He contemplated letting people know, snitching on you, but he held his anger and shoved the burning flames to the back of his throat. He wasn’t going to play your game. If you were bad, Max Verstappen was worse.

Max’s next move wasn’t what you were expecting at all. With the gentleness of a first kiss, he brought his lips to your forehead, like he always did before stepping to his car, however, this time, taking a little bit longer, savouring the feeling of your skin beneath him.

“See you later, Schatje.”

You were confused. Angry, even, by his reaction. And then, when he finally left, you felt it. The shame, the guilt. You knew you went too far, but you were too blind by hatred, and too hungry for seeing him break.

On the other hand, Max walked into his car with the confidence and determination he hadn’t felt in a while. It was Red Bull. This was a secure place, there were a innumerous amount of people there watching his fucking car. There was no chance that you, clueless girl, could just walk up there and steal a piece of whatever that thing was. God, you didn’t even know how a Formula 1 car worked, how the hell were you supposed to remove an important piece? Max thought, hoped, wished, that you just took something he could manage to work without, and it was what gave him a little bit of relief stepping into the car.

Nonetheless, as quick as the relief came, it was washed away by a thought so much darker, what if you had help?

“Hey, Paul.” Max called out for the man to his left. “The car is good, yeah?”

“You tell me, mate.” Paul joked around, not quite understanding the driver’s question.

“No, I mean, the car is intact, right? Nothing missing?”

Paul arched an eyebrow.

“Of course, Max, it’s all good.”

The driver nodded and soon enough left with his car.

Qualifying started. You watched nervously through the screen in the garage. Maybe you crossed the line. On the other hand, you knew Max wasn’t stupid, he made sure you knew with that ridiculous kiss. No other man could drive you insane. Two days later you were reading him like your favorite book, now, you couldn’t tell a word inside his brain, except for, of course, how badly he was cursing you.

And boy… He was. Every time he made a turn and the car trembled he found a new name to curse you inside his mind. Thank God the FIA couldn’t hear thoughts, at least twenty thousand fines were proffered only in the first five minutes.

The car was shit, unsteady. It was honestly scaring Max how unpredictable it was. Never in his entire career he felt so uneasy with a vehicle, not even in his rookie years.

“There is something really wrong with the car.”

Max added in a frustrated radio message before firing back to his garage.

The crew was there, waiting for him. He stepped out of the car and let the engineers take a look. You managed to catch a glimpse of him, even though his face was hiding behind the helmet, you knew he was contorted in desperation. You couldn’t believe it. For better or for worse, your plan fucking worked.

The engineers cleared the way and Max tried again, completely incredulous on how you managed to ruin his entire race weekend. There was no way your relationship was going to make it after this. Max didn’t even know if he was going to make it after this, he might just shove the car into a wall and die inside of it just to prove a point, watch you suffer with guilt until the end of your life.

By the last lap he was third.

Q2 was a bit better than Q1, that until someone crashed their car. Perfect, not only were you ruining his day, but the universe also decided to collaborate with your evil plan. Maybe you got Max’s rivals to be a part of it. Maybe the whole entire team and crew were by your side.

By Q3 Max started to actually considering driving his car to the wall. The breaks weren’t working. He couldn’t break, at all. You fucking destroyed his breaks.You toyed with his car like it was a lego piece. At the end of that session, taking seventh place, Max stormed out of the car and threw his gloves on the floor. He just wanted to get everything off, his clothes, his helmet, his shoes. He wanted to go back home, to his cats, to his pillow, cry for hours.

Yes, the disaster of a bad qualifying hurt, but it was the heartbreak that got to him. Never in a million years he thought the love of his life would be capable of doing something so cruel and evil. That wasn’t normal. A normal thing would be for you to burn his hoodies or slash the tyres of his Porsche. You manipulated his car, possibly messing with his safety. You weren’t the love of his life, you were a full blown psychopath. Which is the reason Max thanked that you weren’t in his driver’s room when he came back.

That being said, he wasn’t so blessed when he opened his hotel room and found you sitting on his bed, wearing the same clothes as you were in the afternoon.

“Are you fucking for real? You have some guts coming into my room thinking that I would actually want to see you. I take everything back, I don’t want you! I fucking hate you! I want you gone! I want to never look at your face again! You are the most terrible person I have ever met.”

He was shouting, yelling, clenching his teeth and jawline. Stomping around like a maniac while the explosive bursts of verbal thunder left his mouth.

“Max, please, let me explain.” You didn’t raise your voice, you couldn’t, you were wrong here.

“Explain what?! Huh?! How you manipulated my car?! Played around with my safety?! Almost killed me?! God, Y/N, I love you and you do this? This isn’t normal, this isn’t alright, this isn’t something you fix with an explanation. There is no fixing this.”

His voice became lower, not because he wasn’t angry, he still was outrageous, but now the sadness of a heartbreak were too consuming, surpassing every emotion that was battling inside his mind and heart. There were tears in his eyes and they were the bluest you have ever seen. His lips were pink, trembling. His cheeks and nose were red. You felt an agonizing need to hold him.

“Max, you need to breathe.” Poor choice of words, you could see it in his entire face as his eyes became shallow. “I didn’t alter your car.”

Max was about to lash out again, but he didn’t believe his ears. As much as he hated you right now, you caught his attention. He didn’t slow down, though, his chest was heavy, he was close to breaking down.

“Come again?”

“I didn’t take any piece from your car!”

He could see you were crying now and he could swear you seemed honest, like a child trying to prove to their parents that they weren’t the one in the wrong.

“Yes, you fucking did, you showed me! Do you seriously think I am going to believe your bullshit right now?”

“No, I didn’t, this isn’t anything! It’s just a stupid piece of plastic!”

In a desperate attempt you held the black piece close to his face.

His vision was blurry, by tears, by confusion and hatred. He caught the piece and analyzed every corner of it. It didn’t seem legit, it seemed, like you said, just a piece of plastic.

“What the actual-”

“-I just wanted you to believe I did. I wanted to scare you. I wanted to make you doubt yourself. I would never do anything that would actually put you in danger, Max, I love you. I wanted to prove a point.” He couldn’t believe it. In fact, he thought he was hallucinating the whole weekend and this was all a twisted nightmare, “Yes, it was selfish, I am wrong, I crossed the line. But I thought you were going to catch up to it. I didn’t believe it was going to work. You are you, Max.”

Now, add skepticism to the list of emotions inside his gut.

“But the fucking car was shit! The breaks weren’t working! I couldn’t drive that thing at all!”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

Max couldn’t tell if he was relieved by the fact that you didn’t try to kill and you still loved him, or felt betrayed by how you manipulated his reality to the point he drove like shit just because he believed something was wrong with the car. Or maybe Red Bull just fucking sucks. Both later options were not respectful outcomes to him.

“Please, say something. I am so sorry, Max! I regret it. I should have never done it, I know. I am so sorry. I understand if you never want to see me again and, God, I’ll even move from Monaco if that’s what you like. I’ll disappear, completely.”

Your words hit him. He thought about them for a split second. The thought of you leaving his life, to him, was death. Sure, what you did was not okay, he was heartbroken, it would take time to heal. However, the more he thought about it, the more willing he was to try. If you were able to give him a second chance, he should give you the benefit of the doubt. You were taken by passion, by heartache and overwhelming sadness, Max wasn’t a stranger to strong bursts of emotions and impulsiveness, which is why, deep down, he understood why you did what you did. Maybe, if he was in your shoes, he would’ve done worse.

“We are too old for shit like this, Y/N.”

You could feel he was a bit more relaxed, which is why you felt an openness to just hold him. You didn’t care if he wasn’t going to hold you back, you just wanted to show him how much you regret your childish ploy.

“I know, baby, I am so sorry, I love you.”

Fair enough, Max didn’t hold you back. Instead, he pushed you away, another idea forming in the back of his twisted, unserious mind.

“You’re going to work a little bit harder than this, sweetheart, if you want my forgiveness.”

In his eyes, you could see there was still anger painted in the black of his pupils, but mixed with the gleam of his almost dried tears, you noticed a different kind of sparkle, one he saw in your eyes two nights ago.

“Do you want me to kneel and beg?”

Max took a step back.

“I want you to kneel, but I think your mouth can do better things than begging.”

There was a feeling of delirium happening in the back of your mind, that carefully traveled through your veins as if you had take the most powerful drug available in the market. In just a matter of seconds you were down on your knees, hands playing with the hem of Max’s shorts. You looked up, as if asking for permission to take them off. To Max, that was a vision out of the walls of the louvre, you, down, eyes sparkling with sultry glamour, mouth watering.

With an attentive movement, you pulled down his shorts, leaving a trail of kisses on the inside of his thigh, making sure you were scratching every inch of his skin, treating him as if he was the cure to all your worries and troubles. He might as well be.

“Get to it, my love, no teasing.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You asked with a tint of playfulness in your voice.

“You’re not really in a position to have fun. You either put those pretty lips to use or I will leave you here with nothing.”

“Well, since you asked so politely.”

You completely removed his boxers, facing his cock. Your mouth watered. You made sure you spread enough saliva around, licking every inch of him, paying extra attention to his sensitive spots you were well familiar with, before taking him with gluttony, tasting every bit he was giving.

Your hands were everywhere, scratching his thighs, caressing his balls, while you moved your head, feeling him in the back of your throat, around your lips.

Max was in pure bliss, his organs were electrified. He swore you got better since the break up. Or maybe it was the absence that made it much more intimate, filthy, delicious.

“Jesus, Schatje, you’re so dirty.” He ran his fingers through your hair until he decided to guide your movements with his hands, slowly, making sure the pace was comfortable for both of you. “You look so pretty when you’re doing what I want.”

He went a bit further and you gagged in response, moaning right after. The vibrations coming from your throat sent Max into a frenzy. You swirled your tongue around his head, looking up through your eyelashes, exactly the way he liked. You loved giving Max blowjobs, it was as pleasurable for you as for him and he could tell, and there was nothing hotter to Max than seeing you get aroused by giving him pleasure.

Each time his cock hit your throat, he could feel he was getting closer.

“Don’t stop, keep sucking me off, keep going.” You just obeyed, feeling yourself get hotter by the second, you knew your panties were gone by now, yet you still craved more. You needed to taste him more, you needed to take back the time you missed. “Fuck- Y/N, fucking hell. Just like that. You’re so good.”

The praise was everything, because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve him. Yet, here he was, giving you all of him, all of his time and body, the best parts.

One more deeper thrust and you gagged again, the reaction made you squeeze his thighs. Max shut his eyes tight, groaning and moaning a bit too loud, but he couldn’t control himself, not when you were on his knees, taking him so well, doing your job like a freaking pornstar.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” The liquid was everywhere inside your throat. He made sure he finished before removing his cock from inside your mouth, drops of drool spilling on the floor. “You better swallow every drop or we’ll do it all over again.”

You did as he asked, you wouldn’t dare do it otherwise. You stood up, looking right into his eyes as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out.

“Good fucking slut.”

In a sinful act, Max spat in your tongue, holding your hair tightly in a knot between his palm. The move was so dirty, so filthy, you could come just by relieving the scene alone.

With desperate hands, you started to remove your top and then proceeded to his shirt. Meanwhile, Max was practically ripping out your skirt, abruptly removing every piece of fabric that dared touch your skin.

His kiss was demanding, hard, rough, thrilling. There was a primal instinct awaken inside you, one that wanted to be with him and serve him for the rest of your life. One that could live in beds with him until you grow old.

Max pushed you to the bed, body towering yours. Your hands desperately tried to grab his neck, his back, bring him closer, if it was any possible. You felt his hand sliding slowly between your thighs, until he reached your folds. He made sure to spread the wetness around, making a mess on your inner thighs and hip bones.

“Max, please.” You pleated, voice cracking, there was no way you could form coherent sentences, your mind was hazy, no other thought inside your head except Max Verstappen and his hands.

“Look at you.” His voice was dark, husky. “So wet just from sucking me off. Do you want more?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Then ask for it, use your words.”

That man had you in the palm of his hands. If he asked you to go to war for him, at that moment, in your situation, you would.

“Please, Max, please.” Your vocals were stuck down your throat, you were struggling to speak, the sensations of his hands rubbing your clit ever so slightly you could barely say they were in there was just too overwhelming.

“Pathetic, try again.” He placed a kiss on your collarbone, then on the curve of your neck. His lips were wet and hot, a little bit swollen from the roughness of your kisses.

“Max, fuck me, please, stuff me, use me, do whatever you want.”

Max stopped every touch. Looked deep inside your eyes with a smirk on his lips that you just wanted to slap it off, or kiss it off, whichever one your reflexes allowed.

He scrunched his nose and giggle, it was a way of mocking you, you knew that. You knew you sounded pathetic, you didn’t care. The humiliation was not crossing your mind, nothing to worry about, it wasn’t worth it. He was. Max was worth it.

“Stupid little thing, trying to pull stunts on me, then begging me to use you like you were some sort of cheap whore.”

You moaned in response, lifting your hips to meet his. In a firm movement, Max held your hips down with his right leg, applying pressure on your lower belly, making it unable for you to move.

“Stop lifting your hips like a goddamn whore, you’re going to take whatever I decide to give you.”

He wasn’t treating you kindly, you knew there was still resentment somewhere inside him. Sure, there was. Max knew it too. At that moment he was using you, taking his frustration out. But it wasn’t like you haven’t done the same, only your way of torturing him was a bit less fun than his.

You felt yourself sinking into Max’s cock, involuntarily you sunk your nails on his back, trying to fight back the scorching sensation filling you up, making you whole. Max’s rhythm was slow, painfully slow, which was unlike him, he never fucked you like this, always fast, slamming, pounding. This was even more overwhelming than his usual desperation and roughness, because it wasn’t hurting but it felt like you simply couldn’t take it, the lack of pace was driving you insane.

Max knew it, it was taking every single tear of strength left in his tired body to keep it slow, because you felt too good, too perfect wrapped around him. He missed your feeling, he missed your whimpers and cries.

“You feel so good, Schatje, like you were made only for my cock. Nothing more. Too useless to anything else, couldn’t even figure out how to take a piece out of my car.” He laughed, replaying the scene back in his memory. “Stupid little thing.”

You cried out because you felt that he, without thinking, went a little bit harder when remembering what happened. If you wanted him to give you what you needed, you would have to push him only a little bit. You lost the war, you know you did, but there were still some battles left.

“Come on, Max. Slow on tracks, slow in bed. You used to be better than this. What are you trying to do? Fuck me to sleep?”

He looked down on you, with contempt. How dare you talk to him this way? But it was a good try, he was close to snapping, making you regret the whole week, going too hard until you couldn’t remember why you were on this earth for.

You were scared of his eyes, how dark they were, but your stomach flipped with the thrill of waiting for his next move.

“Oh, she can talk!” His voice was drenched in disdain. “Let’s fix this.”

Not even stopping, Max parted your lips only to shove the lace fabric of your panties into your mouth. Fucking bastard. You protested, but now even you had to admit the sounds coming from you were a joke.

“Much better.”

Then, in a sudden, fierce movement, he flipped you. Stomach down the mattress, face pressed against the egyptian sheets, a luxury that only Bahrain could provide. Max’s left hand was pressing your head further down as he started to pick up the pace, slamming hard and faster. He was, in fact, using you as a personal fucktoy, but you didn’t mind it, the feeling was too good.

You felt euphoric, your blood was buzzing. You tried to hold the sheets, grab something, but there was no way for you to control your body. The sounds coming from your mouth were involuntary, so were the one’s coming from Max. It was too much for him, he knew he wouldn’t last longer. He never used you like this before, it made him feel like a god. No amount of championship wins would come close to the feeling of being buried deep down inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Look at what you made me do, fucking slut.” You could feel the tears coming down. Good tears. The hot kind. “Are you going to cry on me now?”

You saw one of his hands coming to your mouth, removing the fabric and tossing far away to the other side of the room.

“Yes, Max, oh God, fuck.”

He groaned, the wet noises were feeling the room.

The familiar sensation of fire pooling low in your abdomen started to show up. If he asked you to hold on, God forgive you, there was no way in hell. You heard him moan a mixture of curse words and your name, but your senses were coming blurry, as if you were about to pass out.

“Max, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum inside you, baby.”

He pressed down, letting his weight fall on top of you, that’s when you felt the tightness around your organs being released. The sounds coming from you were too much for Max to hold on any longer, not even seconds later he was breaking down. It was animalistic, filthy, pornographic, even.

He never took it out, he stayed inside of you for minutes after he was done. You were too sensitive to take any movement. That experience was whatever religious people were trying to reach with their existence. Who needed faith when you had Max Verstappen as a lover?

You barely noticed that his weight left the top of your naked body, only flipping back around when you saw him coming from the bathroom with a towel. He sat down next to you, breathing slowly, gently rubbing the fabric between your thighs.

“Are you okay?” You nodded, thinking you blacked out for a second. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“I just want you to lay down here.”

He did as you asked, letting you wrap yourself around him. You could tell there were no bad feelings around, everything vanished into thin air. It was just you and Max, same as ever.

“Do you forgive me, Max?”

He placed a long lasting kiss in your right temple.

“Is it bad if I said you should pull stuff like this more often just so that we could repeat this?”

You giggled, fingers tracing drawings on his stomach.

“I think we can figure another game that won’t risk our relationship burning to ashes if something goes wrong.”

“Fair enough.” You felt him adjust his body. “And, yes, I do forgive you.”

You needed the reassurance, Max knew that. He knew you. You were a melody from his favorite childhood song, one that he listened to it and it never left his mind.

There was no letting you go. It would always be complex and easy at the same time. But any complication was worth it if it meant you would never leave his side.

[fastafeijoa]

Headcanons on Harley! And a lil sketch too

•Extremely self-condident. Absolutely sure whatever goes wrong with experiments isn't his fault. It's not necessarily someone else's fault either, it could be just a natural part of progress.

•British, moved to the US with his parents when he was little. They had sort of a small British community there so he didn't pick up American pronunciation.

•Asexual Also believes romance is like a "low quality drug for the soft, spineless people who seek only primitive pleasure and have no idea of their place in life". But! If he grew up a little less love-deprived, he'd be homoromantic. Dude likes men. Specifically, just one man. In several AUs with my wife he's in very close, warm platonic relationship with her version of Sawyer. This is the perfect fit for him, literally like a part of himself he was missing.

•Wasn't satisfied with his looks until his early 50s. Sawyer likes long hair on other people and himself but in middle school he got bullied into wearing a short haircut and used to have his hair cut even shorter before starting his work at Playtime Co, not really paying attention to his looks anymore. At the factory though he felt like things were going to change for the better and allowed himself some self-indulgence, letting his hair grow out a little bit. That, along with him gaining weight (which he liked, starting to see himself as beautifully imposing), made him finally pay attention to his looks and consider himself handsome.

•Can lock in and work on something without a single break for hours, often without even changing his position. Him being a surgeon has helped develop this skill a lot. Sometimes he'll even forget he's allowed to, say, scratch his nose, like if he's performing a surgery. Gets immensely overloaded in this state and if anyone bothers him at this time they're a dead person. •Yep he's autistic.

•Used to be genuinely disgusted with tenderness. Like, genuinely. At first when Yarnaby would try to cuddle up to him, lick his hands or just headbump him he felt pathetic and gross and was quick to push him away. Overtime, however, as he realised his mental health could use a little boost and a pet is a good tool for that, he became less disgusted and even started to secretly enjoy it when Yarnaby showed affection towards him.

•Uses cane due to chronic arthritis. It's not always bad so sometimes he doesn't need the cane and walks around carrying it like if about to beat up someone. And sometimes he'll lean on it when he's tired from standing. Also there's a knife hidden in the cane, just in case.

•Visits the local flee market from time to time. Usually just to philosophize and not to buy things: dude's got an inner poet in him and enjoys to dress his life in metaphor while looking at old toys and trinkets. But on occasion he will actually buy something: he got his cane at the flee market.

•6'2 ft tall. Quite menacing.

•Is somewhat paranoid. Definitely has OCD. Won't trust his mental health to anyone but himself though (handles it poorly) and is afraid of taking any kind of sedatives or antidepressants because they "might mess with his unique mind". Ofc he's perfectly aware that can't happen, it's just a hello from his OCD. Yeah, he also won't trust OCD meds because of OCD.

•Had tough childhood with mother who didn't care and father who was overly possessive (hm I sure wonder if Harley inherited that….. hm………)

•Has been feeling so much better than before in his life since the start of the Bigger Bodies Initiative. At times he might be miserable, grumpy, tired or unable to handle his temper, but his project gives him a lot of drive and motivation and quite often he's seen walking around genuinely excited, with a slight sinister grin and proudly straightened back. Among tortured children, scared and exhausted workers and products of brutal experiments he shines with grim joy. This, all of this, is everything he ever wanted.

[arandomao3user]

timbern who have a baby and lowk dunno how to take care of that thang 💔

Mission accepted.

—

Darla Dowd-Drake-Wayne, new baby, crying:

Tim: Do we, like, feed her?

Bernard: We just fed her, and changed her. Do you think she's depressed? Are we bad parents already!?

Tim: No, no, she can't be depressed! She doesn't know who the president is yet.

—

Darla, slowly crawling over to the Batman plush on the floor:

Tim: ?

Darla, proceeding to beat the sh#& out of it:

Tim, slowly lifting his phone to send videos to Steph and Jason later:

—

Tim: I carry you for nine months, I suffer, I eat ten pounds of chicken nuggets in your honor, and you have the audacity to come out looking like your Father?!

Darla: Bah!

Tim: Apology accepted, but I'm taxing you.

Darla: Gah!

Tim: Mm, a compromise? I dunno...

Bernard: Timboo, are you okay..?

Tim, who's been awake for the past six days balancing Darla and a case: . . . No :'(

Bernard: Aw, c'mere, honey.

—

Bernard, holding a picture of the titanic up: This is the titanic!

Bernard, holding a picture of the Olympic up: THIS is her sister ship, the Olympic. Can you guess which one actually sunk?

Darla: Ah!

Bernard: Correct! Next lesson will be the debate on if the moon landing was faked or not.

—

Bruce, holding Darla: . . . Why is she . . . small?

Tim: She's a baby.

Bruce: Were... All of you this small?

Tim: Yeah?

Bruce, having his sixth internal crisis for the day: Oh.

—

Damian: Do you think you are superior to me?

Darla: Duh!

Damian: Tt... Well, I suppose I can allow that. Though I must inform you that by time I was your age I was immune to far more poisons. I do salute your tolerance for idiocracy.

Darla: Pffhgt!

Damian: . . . I shall keep you a while longer.

Tim, running throughout the manor: DAMIAN, WHERE DID YOU TAKE MY BABY!?

—

Stephanie: Remember, Batman may seem like a cool guy, but he's actually an a#-hole.

Darla: Guh!

Stephanie: Believe it, sister! He's a royal, capital B, B-t$&.

Darla: Betch!

Stephanie: . . . Oh no.

—

Cassandra, holding a book up: May I read to you?

Darla: Ehshxy!

Cassandra: My Father did not read to me, did not allow me to read at all... I would like to read to you.

Darla, squealing:

Bernard: Hey, Dolly, wha—

Cass, holding Darla in one arm, book in her other hand:

Bernard: . . . Never mind.

—

Tim: . . . You're weird.

Darla: Buh!

Tim: I don't see why everyone's so crazy about you...

Tim, lightly poking her cheek: You're here and none of my family has even asked how I'm doing. Always about you. Why is that?

Darla: Phhbt!

Tim: I mean, I'm used to it, I was Bruce's whole world once, he had all this patience for me and cared about me, then Jason came back and then Damian arrived, so I'm used to it, I guess...

Darla: Geh!

Tim: Yup . . .

Jason, who broke into Tim and Bernard apartment and overheard everything:

—

Jason: Hey, pretender.

Tim, holding Darla in one arm: Why are you in my house?

Jason: So sweet, aren't ya? I heard your blonde wonder was stuck late at that restaurant he works at or whatever, figured I'd stop by and make sure you actually ate.

Tim: . . . That's weirdly nice of you. Why?

Jason: What, am I not allowed to be a good elder brother?

Tim: Mm.

Darla: Guhba!

Jason: Hey, nestling.

Tim: She's sleeping less.

Jason: Takes after you then, eh?

Tim: I guess...

Jason:

Jason: How are ya doin', Timbit?

Tim: What?

Jason: You look tired. In more ways than one.

Tim: I...

Tim, looking at Darla: . . . I'm bad at this.

Jason, stepping closer: Oh, kid, there ain't any guide to this.

Tim, plopping his forehead against Jason's shoulder: There are, several, I read through them all, they don't help.

Jason, wrapping his arms around Tim, careful of Darla: They're all sh&$, Tim. You're doin' good.

Tim: No, Bernard's doing good, Cass, Steph, Damian... Hell, even Bruce is doing better than me.

Jason: Hey, never, ever say Bruce is doing better at parentin' than you.

Tim: It's true though. I can't even get her down for a nap..!

Jason: You're stressed and new to this. Doesn't make ya bad at it.

Tim: I feel bad at it...

Jason: Well, do what you do best then.

Tim: Solve a murder?

Jason: Nope. Make a plan, follow through... You aren't alone, Tim.

Tim: . . . Thanks, Jay.

Jason: Mhm.

—

[thewritingfairy]

I just realized you typed "the bad family" instead of "the bat family" in the warning 😂

I love this one pun. If you don't mean to put it like that please keep it.

Also, I really hope the reader gets a healthy parental figure. They deserve better. I want to see Alfred watching himself getting completely replaced and knowing it's his fault. I want him to see the reader look at someone's with the same love they once looked at him with. No! More. Love and ease, the feeling of home in their eyes. That look that says 'I know no matter what, even if no one got my back,they do'.

Please take care of your health and studies and have a good day/night.

😶‍🌫️

That is, infact, a typo. A funny one at that.

But absolutely, Reader deserves a parental figure that doesn't fuck them over, gaslights them ect. And Alfred absolutely deserves the pain of being 'replaced'. But is it really replacing when he was never that person to begin with?

Enabling is also a form of abuse, people! And Alfred tends to be an enabler in my fic. A big one at that.

I'll try to take care of my health, but honestly why does health sometimes decide to just switch up for no reason, so annoying... anyways thank you, have a good day/night as well!!

[stanhedonia]

(I agree that it's not the worst thing you can do but here's my explanation of why it's high on the list.)

Most people like consistency in sexual/romantic matters. It reduces transmission of STDs, and it makes raising children simpler when the parents' relationship is consistent.

Most people also want a life partner who will treat them as the #1 priority. Again, this is valuable because it brings consistency to life. I you're everyone's #2 priority, then you'll probably have a lot of support when life is easy, but when life gets hard, you might not have any support. Being someone's #1 priority ensures that you'll always have support from at least one person. It's like a safety net.

The simplest way to fulfill both of these requirements is to pair up in a group of 2 people, each of which treat the other as their #1 priority, more important than anyone else, and only have sex with that person. This is what most people opt for. There are other ways to live, and I'm not saying they don't work, but they're not the default for most people because they're more complicated and harder to keep track of.

You could separate the desire for sexual consistency and the desire for a mutual safety net into two different relationships. But it's simpler to have both relationships be merged into one, for most people. Also, because of how neurotypical brains work, the emotions associated with both types of relationships bleed into each other. When you see someone as a good partner you become more attracted to them sexually, and when you have sex with someone, you feel more bonded to them as a person. It's not just simpler intellectually, it's simpler emotionally to do monogamy because the emotions go together and reinforce each other. (For most people.)

The logic around STDs and pregnancy no longer applies as much in the modern day. But these desires are not just logical, they are also primal. For the same reasons I listed, most of our ancestors had an incentive to create stable and simple sexual pairings, so most people have an instinctual drive to do so. And when that bond is broken it feels primally, instinctually painful. Even if we created a society with no unwanted pregnancy or STDs, and a utopian system where children and adults have all the support they need even if relationships are constantly changing, some people would still retain the vestigial instinct to feel pain when their mate has sex with someone else.

So getting cheated on is like this: in one fell swoop, your partner intentionally

-undoes the system that is giving you a safety net by breaking the agreement (hurts you practically),

-suggests that they don't see the stable arrangement you've created as worth preserving (hurts your sense of self-worth),

-does something to cause you primal, instinctual pain (hurts you).

This is especially bad if this is a system you had been building for years and you were relying on it being stable for years to come; and if the person who is insulting your self-worth is someone who you thought valued you above all else; and if the person who caused you primal pain is the one who was supposed to protect you according to your agreement.

To do that all at once is seen as very cruel.

(I hope I provided a unique perspective and didn't just reiterate things you already understand. I think it was helpful for my understanding to lay the mechanics out like this, at least.)

being an amoeba level empathy autistic child, I got used to just not understanding things that made others feel upset & only getting it later in life. there's some horrific stuff that I've had to work to understand people's trauma around, but I usually come around eventually and start feeling the way I'm supposed to about it. all this to say, for a long time I have been waiting for that moment where I intuitively understand why cheating is the worst thing you can do to a partner and i still don't really get it.