#with no acknowledgement that he’s been there for months with no sign of returning

[avayarising]

#OK thank you because I was thinking it was the batplane #dpjl #fanfic time

– @the-nerdy-fangirl

Yeah the Batplane is called the Batwing in some media. It’s confusing when Luke Fox also exists. I guess he named himself after the aircraft.

But here’s Danny walking off with the Waynes down the road, heading for out of town, wondering where they’re going, how they found him, how they got here so fast, and then they’re on a little road and Bruce pulls out a remote control and presses a button and suddenly in the field there’s the bloody Batplane.

“It’s only fair, since you told us your identity,” says Dick.

“Huh,” says Danny. “So that’s what all that ‘night shift’ stuff was about.”

Then during the flight Danny is texting his friends in the group chat (imagine they've got funny names, I’ll be here all day if I have to think some up).

Danny: hey guys I just moved out lol Jazz: WHAT Tucker: where to? Jazz: You can’t move out. You’re too young. Sam: You can stay with me if you need to Danny: your parents would kill me Danny: again Danny: anyway, I’ve got a place Jazz: I can come get you. You can stay in the dorm with me. Jazz: I’ll make it work. Danny: you can come visit Tucker: how far away is it? Jazz: What the hell Danny. You’re not living on your own. Danny: trust me Danny: I really, really won’t be on my own Tucker: I’m worried where are you going? Sam: This sounds super dodgy Danny: Gotham Jazz: HELL NO Tucker: you can’t leave Amity! Tucker: we’ve been keeping things under control but we need you Danny: so remember that family I said i was staying with? Sam: No way Danny: they came for me Danny: it’s only been a day and they came for me Jazz: Gotham’s two days’ drive away. Danny: whole gang of them on my doorstep Danny: they want me Jazz: How’d they get here so fast? Sam: Weren’t you a kid? Sam: Like a little kid Sam: No way they didn’t notice Danny: oh yeah they noticed Danny: they’re cool with it tho Danny: I told them how it happened Tucker: About the thing? Danny: all of it Danny: they’re fine with it Several people are typing… Danny: so I didn’t say before Danny: they’re rich. Like, super rich Danny: they came in a private jet Danny: and they’ve got an in with the Justice League Danny: so Danny: you won't need me for the ghosts any more Tucker: WAIT Tucker: super large, super rich family from Gotham Tucker: associated with the Justice League Tucker: holy shit Tucker: you got taken in by the WAYNES? Danny: that’s their name yeah Danny: why? Several people are typing…

Bruce had been walking out of the WE building when he spotted a child who could fit right in at Wayne Manor looking around. Determining he was probably lost, Bruce approached him and tapped his shoulder. The boy turned around.

"Daddy?" he asked.

[mynahx3]

You Left Me, Like They All Do 6K

Hello lovelies!!! Just a quick Yandere Satoru x Sorcerer reader. This is a dark story so please read warnings and heed tags!!! Warnings for NONCON/ DRUGGING/ DRINKING/ GUILT TRIPPING DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!!!!MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT!!!

You liked what you had with Satoru. The two of you weren't anything more or anything special and you were happy with that.

Only... He wasn't. He wanted more.

And you tried to run.

"You haven't been returning my texts."

You look up from your desk, the paperwork forgotten at the new arrival in your office. The said arrival, Gojo, stands there with a wide grin, leaning on the doorframe with an air of nonchalance as always.

It had been almost six months since you last saw him.

Of course, he came here to stir things up. You were relieved that nobody was on campus because it was getting late, and the additional paperwork from the kids' missions was the reason for your overtime.

"Gojo, long time no see." You return his grin, despite your dry tone, and return to your desk, the pen in your hand scribbling on the paper.

In truth, you were angry. The last time you had talked to him, not over text or the phone, was when you told him you were done with this "relationship," if you could even call it that. Now he had the nerve to show up at your new job like he owned the place.

Though you could suppose he almost did, considering he was the strongest.

His footsteps are loud in the silence of your office as he walks in, sitting at the edge of your desk beside you. He looms over you as you continue to ignore him, his foot begins to tap at the ground to show his impatience. You can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refuse to acknowledge him, determined to stand your ground.

The tension rises as he clears his throat, breaking the silence in the room. With a deep breath, you turn to face him, ready to confront whatever he has to say.

Seeing him after so long was a shock to you, but you refused to let it show. The dim light of your office casts him in a soft, warm glow. He looks down at you with the bandages over his eyes, revealing one of them. With his arms folded across his chest, he looks down on you with a childlike pout.

With a grimace, you only raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to speak his mind, the pen left on your desk as you turn to face him. You could feel the tension between you two, but you refused to let it show on your face. Even your cursed energy was in check, not a drop being unmanaged.

"You really had me worried there." He starts, the frown on his face unchanging. "I thought something had happened to you."

"Last I remember, I blocked you for a reason, Gojo."

"And last I remember, I said we weren't done. And stop calling me Gojo; I told you that."

"Stop saying shit like that, WE." You said, motioning a figure between the two of you, the tone of your voice filled with annoyance, "Are nothing. We weren't EVER a thing."

"Fine, you want to play it that way?" He retorted, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. The air crackled with unresolved tension, neither of you showing any sign of backing down. "You know there was something more."

"Gojo, we had our fun; we slept a couple times together, had amazing sex, I will admit, but I never said I wanted anything more."

"Oh, come on!" He laughed, shaking his head at you with an amused glint in his eyes. "I know you felt something more than just sex between us. We had something."

The two of you continued to bicker, your voices gradually increasing in volume.

Yaga always did say the two of you were as stubborn as mules.

Him insisting on a deeper connection, you denying it with every fiber of your being. It was clear that this disagreement would not be easily resolved. It had all been coming to a head—the boiling of the pot—when you finally snapped at him.

"I know what I want, and it's not you," you declared coldly, holding his gaze with unwavering determination.

He looks taken aback by you, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. His jaw tightened as he turned away from you, distracting himself with a picture on your desk, but you could see something in his eyes as they became glassy with tears.

It was a picture of your high school days. When things were easier.

Seeing his hurt expression, you felt bad, almost wanting to take back what you had said. Reaching a hand out to him, you comfortingly rubbed his forearm, a softer expression on your face.

He has been a friend of yours for such a long time. You didn't mean for things to turn out this way.

"That… That was harsher than I meant."

Gojo stayed silent as he continued to look at the picture, his finger tracing over the engravings of the frame. It was almost like he was reminiscing about something. His shoulders relaxed at your touch little by little, and he finally met your eyes again, a mix of hurt and understanding in his gaze.

"I know," he whispered softly before straightening his back, his hand going over yours.

It was almost like nothing had happened—his playful, goofy smile returning to his face. Still, you could see the pain in his eyes lingering beneath the surface, a reminder of the impact of your words. Despite his attempt to mask it with humor, there was a vulnerability in his expression that you couldn't ignore.

"We're just friends; I get that, but at least let me be in my friend's life. Don't just go blocking me, then transfer to Kyoto without a proper goodbye."

You pursed your lips together at his remarks and averted his look, your throat stiff, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. The pain in his eyes was undeniable, and you knew deep down that you couldn't bring yourself to hurt him in that way.

It was funny. You went from being determined about protecting your distance to feeling horrible for giving him pain. But…

It's not like you just uprooted your life and career and abandoned everything you knew for no apparent reason. Gojo, no Satoru, had become overbearing.

The two of you had begun sleeping together, really as a means to relieve stress, but he became more attached. You thought it was cute at first. But as time went on, his possessiveness became suffocating.

You should have set boundaries, but a part of you did encourage it. Just letting him do as he please.

It was a little nice to be doted on.

He showed up at your apartment with no notice, stayed for days after what was intended to be a one-night encounter, and even went to meet your parents for lunch one day. He was acting like your boyfriend after only wanting a casual relationship with him, if that. It was unnerving how quickly he had become so attached and involved in your life. The breaking point came when he showed you the extra key to your apartment he had made for himself. Smiling like he had just given you a gift, he said, "Now I can come and go as I please."

Like he didn't already.

Looking back at him, you felt the months of anger against him subside; a part of you was disappointed in yourself for what you said next.

"Okay Satoru." You sighed, not missing the way he seemed to glow at you calling him his first name again. "We can be friends."

With that, he envelops you in a hug, pulling your form tightly to him. It had to be an uncomfortable position with how he hunched over, but you couldn't deny the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"Thank you."

His arms tightened around you so much you let out a little wheeze, but you didn't say anything, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. He almost seemed to melt into you, taking in the moment to bury his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath on your skin as he whispered, "I've missed you."

In the beginning, it was going well.

The two of you would text regularly, have lunch when he was in Kyoto or you were in Tokyo, and had still managed to keep a respectable distance from each other.

You still lived your life, and he still lived his.

Gone were the days you had to sneak around just to avoid running into him at Jujutsu Tech. You were content with having him back in your life simply as a friend. You could now visit Shoko or anyone else in Tokyo without first confirming his presence.

But then things started to change.

His hugs lingered a little longer, and his eyes held a different kind of intensity. Brushing it off, you tried to convince yourself that you were just imagining things. He was always clingy, even in high school.

Even now he clung to your side, blabbering away about his day and his students. He had burst into the morgue, interrupting your conversation with Shoko to steal you away instead.

You should have let Utahime be the one to take the paperwork to her, but you had to insist on helping her out.

"So you going to come?"

Satoru looked at you expectantly across the table, having dragged you to a nearby cafe he wanted to try out. You were always the only one to go with him before you left.

"I'm sorry, I can't," you said before you could take a bite of the parfait you ordered, a grimace on your face from feeling guilty for leaving him behind. "I have other plans tonight."

Satoru's disappointment was evident, but you had already made plans. A date, to be exact.

He slouched over in his seat, groaning loudly about how it had been so long since you came. It was a near monthly drinking party that you had always attended, but this time you had to miss it. A part of you contemplated it, but you shook your head no to him, politely smiling at him.

"Come on, you have to come." He urged, trying to convince you to change your mind. "Utahime will be there, Shoko will, even Nanami!"

"I promise I'll make it up to you next time," you reassured Satoru, hoping he would understand.

Scoffing, he began to use his spoon to roughly stab at his own parfait, clearly frustrated with your decision.

"Fine, suit yourself," he muttered, clearly disappointed.

Of course your date didn't show.

You stood in the busy streets, angry and frustrated, as you realized you had been stood up once again. It was almost an hour after the agreed upon time, and your date still hadn't shown up. Every text you sent was ignored but clearly read by the receipt, leaving you embarrassed and feeling foolish for waiting around.

People had begun to bump into you, the night crowd beginning to rush the sidewalk, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave just yet.

They were a fuckin asshole, you thought, sending them a last fuck you message before pocketing your phone in your leather jacket.

Angrily, you wipe your tears before they could fall, turning to stomp back to the train station. You really thought they were interested after a couple weeks of texting. A couple weeks of seemingly being led on only to be stood up in the end. With a huff, you tightened your jacket around you as you moved with the crowd; the brisk fall air began to bite at your skin, especially on your legs, even with tights providing some protection.

You had almost made it around the corner when you heard your name being called out in the distance, which made you stop. Turning with confusion, a part of you was hopeful it was your date, but instead you saw Satoru waving his hand at you from across the street. He was easy to pinpoint with his towering height and stark white hair. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to engage in conversation after what just happened.

Before you could move to go, he made his way across the street, his infinity helping him make his way in the weekend crowd.

"I thought you weren't coming," he asked, tilting his head to you as you both moved to the side of the sidewalk to avoid the bustling pedestrians.

He wore normal attire for the night out instead of the uniform you always saw him in. A black turtleneck, dark wash jeans, and a fur lined brown coat.

God, you hated how good he looked in a turtleneck and that coat.

"I changed my mind," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping he didn't notice the redness in your eyes.

It was a happy accident that the bar they wanted to go out to was a short distance from the restaurant where you were supposed to meet your date. You had decided that even if you weren't going to go on a date, you would have fun tonight with your friends.

Having spent so much time getting ready, it would be a shame to have your dress go to waste.

Now you were with your closest friends, drinking together and laughing the night away, grateful for their company and the distraction from your original plans.

Shoko and Nanami were currently chugging beer, always being the competitive drinkers, with Utahime cheering them on and placing bets on who would finish first. The atmosphere was lively and carefree, making you forget all about the date that never happened. It was a relief to be there, honestly.

You watched on with a genuine smile, chanting along with Utahime as she overly cheered. The redness on her face clearly showed her level of intoxication, but it only added to the fun of the evening. As the two of them finished at the same time, she continued to dance and chant, motioning for another round loudly.

Laughing a bit at her antics, you began to relax a little, feeling the effects of your own drinks. Lifting your cup, you went for another sip before feeling a nudge on your shoulder. Turning your head, you saw Satoru had returned from the bar, lounging next to you with a playful grin.

"Try this." Satoru said to you, pushing the obscenely bright drink into your face.

He didn't drink alcohol, preferring virgin drinks, but he always packed them with sweetness. It was clear from the bright blue slush and little paper umbrella it was garnished with that this drink was no exception.

Shaking your head, you stubbornly refused as he kept trying to persuade you to try it.

"Come on, just one sip," he urged, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn't help but smile at his persistence, knowing that resisting would be futile in the end.

"One sip!" You finally relented, taking a small sip of the overly sweet concoction.

The taste was overwhelming, as you expected. It tasted like a sugary explosion in your mouth, making you scrunch up your face in response. When you go to give it back to him, he doesn't accept it, hands above his head.

"Keep it," he insisted, his smile widening. "It's all yours."

"Come on, just take it back. I can't drink this whole thing."

"I think you need it after drinking so much. Consider it a gift," he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Besides, it's a special recipe just for you."

You just shrug, rolling your eyes at him before turning your attention back to your friends, who continued to challenge each other to more drinking games. You didn’t feel like dealing with his complaining.

It wasn't your usual taste, but you couldn't deny it began to grow on you, even if it had an aftertaste. He seemed happy with that, silent for once as you finished it, his arm resting on your shoulders.

When everyone began to leave, it was clear you and Utahime were plastered.

Outside of the establishment, the group was waiting for their rides to come. The two of you hung on each other, her arguing with Satoru about going back to Tokyo permanently.

"No! Get your grimy hands off her Gojo! She's mine!"

You laughed loudly as she pressed your face into her chest, her arms locked around your neck protectively as you both swayed. Thank goodness you opted for heels with a lower heel.

Somehow, Shoko had gotten her off of you, telling her that she needed to calm down.

"Utahime. You'll see her in your hotel." Shoko tried to remind her, ever levelheaded, even with the amount of alcohol she consumed.

"Nooo! She got a different one from me, Shoko!"

You had both been to Tokyo for the yearly Good Will Event, one that was pushed back a bit. You also agreed to stay a bit longer to catch up and aid the Tokyo location with missions, but you had booked a different hotel by accident. A simple miscommunication in text.

Nonetheless, the hotel was a bit of a drive, so it was a headache.

You swayed unsteadily on your shaky legs, almost stumbling and nearly falling to the grimy floor below. Just in time, Nanami assisted you, keeping a hand on your lower back to keep you steady.

"Thank you, Nanami," you slurred gratefully, smiling away at him, trying to lean up to peck his cheek.

Nanami stood still, staring at you in shock as you moved closer, almost in shock. Satoru saw this and almost immediately swatted Nanami away, having you lean on him instead.

"Let me help you," Satoru said firmly, with a protective arm around your waist, ignoring your protests.

Nanami only raised his eyebrow before shrugging, feeling a bit uneasy himself from how much he drunk. It would be wiser for him to ride with Shoko; it was how he got here to begin with.

"How about you take Utahime, Shoko, and I'll take her?" Satoru suggested, knowing that it would be easier for Utahime to calm down with Shoko. "It'll take forever for Ijichi to come get them since he has to go pick up the first years. They barely finished a mission."

Shoko frowned a little at the suggestion, her eyes looking from you to him. Nanami was not able to drive; she had beat them in their drinking bet, and she was the only one who could.

"I thought you didn't drive?"

Satoru shrugged at her question, "I don't, but I can teleport; easy peasy."

Nanami was silent before nodding in agreement. Utahime had started to turn green, which hastened his decision, "We don't have time to wait for Ijichi. Let's just go."

Her mind seemed to be turning until she eventually nodded, turning to walk towards her car with Utahime in tow after saying goodnight. Nanami was also needed to help; Utahime had begun to walk more unbalanced as she tried to "rescue you," as she put it.

As you stumbled away with Satoru, Utahime's voice faded into the background as she continued to protest about going back to Tokyo permanently. Shoko guided her away, leaving you to chuckle at the chaos you had inadvertently caused.

"She's a handful tonight."

"That's an understatement."

The two of you continued walking, leaving the commotion behind. Once you both got to an alleyway, away from the prying eyes of civilians, Satoru prepared to teleport.

He smiled down at you, pulling you flush to his side, his hand wandering a little lower than you would like. You playfully swatted his hand away, giving him a warning look. Satoru just grinned mischievously before teleporting. It was something he used sparingly; it did take a toll on his cursed energy, but it made sense in the moment.

In an instance, the two of you began to walk through an unfamiliar apartment. With some difficulty, you managed to get out of your heels as Satoru slipped out of his dress shoes with ease, leading you down a hallway.

White walls and hardwood floors lead to a kitchen and living room. It was sparsely furnished, resembling a minimalist apartment for someone who spent barely any time at home. The only signs of life were the dents in the black couch and a few wrappers left on the marble countertops. As he assisted you in moving inside, you couldn't help but stare in shock at him.

"When did you get your own place?"

"Just recently," he replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "Thought it was time for a change of scenery."

You laughed at that, feet stumbling over the threshold as you took in the modern decor, somehow keeping up with his quick steps. It was a far cry from his messy dorm room you remembered so well.

"I'm surprised you finally left that dorm," you teased, earning a playful eye roll from him. "Seemed like you would be there forever."

"I've decided to upgrade my living situation," he said with a grin, leading you further into the spacious apartment.

Eventually, he deposited you onto a large, plush bed in a large room. One you immediately relaxed into, eyes closed with a content smile, arms splayed around you, with your legs hanging off the edge. The soft comforter enveloped you as you sank into the mattress, feeling the stress of the day melt away. The moonlight was shining brightly from the windows, a long wall that reached the ceiling, the building towering over the city.

You almost wanted to sleep right away.

It was only a second later when the alarm bells went off. He was supposed to take you to your hotel.

You shot up, heart racing as you realized the mistake, brows furrowed together at him. He stood over you at the foot of the bed, looking at you with smile.

A creepy one at that.

"I thought you were taking me to my hotel." You asked, slurring your words still, your mouth feeling like it was full of cotton. Trying to sit straight, you kept yourself upright with your hands planted behind you.

The room began to sway more and more, your vision blurring. Weird, you don't remember drinking that much now that you think about it. Nothing to do this.

"Your hotel is too far for me to teleport. Besides, my bed is way cozier."

That was another warning.

"What do you mean your bed?" You asked, more alert as you survey the room.

There was a pile of laundry in a corner, little belongings on a dresser, and a framed photo of your first year entrance ceremony on the nightstand. The four of you smiled widely with the youthful ignorance of what was to come. It was clear that you were not in a hotel room but rather in his personal space.

"When you left, I thought I could manage; women and men throw themselves at me all the time." He laughed, and a hand reached out to trace your jawline. "But none of them were you."

"Satoru?"

Looking up at him, he only moved closer, sitting next to you with an almost blank look. You felt a mix of emotions as you realized the depth of his feelings for you, unsure of how to respond in this unexpected situation.

It was obvious the feelings he had for you, but you were unsure if you were ready to reciprocate them.

His white hair made it look like a halo around him with the moon behind him; at some point he had taken off his glasses. The blues of his eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the room. It was weird how big they seemed compared to the rest of his face, almost unnaturally so.

Something was off.

"I've missed you." He declared randomly, cupping your face gently, taking his time to admire you. "When you left, I thought I wouldn't see you again. That, you left me alone, like him. But here you are, in front of me. I can't let you go. I can't be alone again."

His touch was surprisingly warm, contrasting with the coolness of his gaze. Despite the tenderness in his voice, there was a hint of something unsettling lurking beneath the surface.

When you made moves to get up but his other hand joined, the grip he had on your face tightened, almost to the point of pain. His eyes bore into yours, searching for a reaction as he whispered, "You're not going anywhere this time."

The realization of the situation was a smack to the face, more like a train. The room suddenly felt suffocating, the air heavy as you tried to focus. You're positive you didn't drink that much now. Your limbs began to feel heavier suddenly, almost numb, as you pushed against his chest. The tears falling down your cheeks did nothing to convince him to stop, nor did your pleas.

But why would he? He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He leans in as you struggle, your fight getting weaker and weaker, his lips connecting to yours in a forceful, unwelcome kiss.

It was soft at first, reminding you of your first kiss with him before it began to evolve into something more hungry. The realization hits you even harder—you're trapped, and he's not going to let you go without a fight.

What would you do against him anyway? A measly grade one sorcerer compared to the greatest of you, the strongest.

It was funny how easily he overpowered you. Laughable, really.

Your cursed energy surged in retaliation, only to be drowned in a second by his. Wave after wave, you felt more and more hopeless. Every time you came up for air, you were crushed once more.

Drowning again and again.

The way he kissed you was rough, teeth smashing against your bottom lip, his tongue dancing intrusively in your mouth. He had easily pried your jaw open for access, the bruises forming on your skin from his forceful grip. Your mind blanks for a second, almost not believing what was happening, numb hands frozen at his chest.

He breaks it on his terms, panting for air just like you. Smiling like he found his lost treasure, in a way he did.

The hold on your face lessens, but you know he could remind you of the power he held. His thumbs hurriedly wiped at the tears falling from your face, shushing you as he peppered your face in gentle kisses.

"You don't need to go back to Kyoto; hell, you don't even have to go back to Tokyo." He starts, leaving kisses along your neck, one of his hands moving your jacket off your shoulders. "I can take care of you; keep you here with me. Just don't leave; don't leave me again."

You would pity the desperate look on his face if he wasn’t doing this to you.

Your mouth moves but doesn't really form words, trying to protest but unable to find the strength to do so. With whatever was in your system and your nerves, you only managed to mumble out pleas. It became harder and harder to form words, your tongue going numb.

"Just let this happen."

He pushed you back against the bed, quickly removing the jacket and dress you had on. The tights you wore were torn in his haste, leaving the tattered fabric to fall to the floor with the rest of the pile.

Impatient as always.

Faster than your mind can keep up, he strips you bare, taking the moment to look down at you. He had seen everything before, tasted you, and been inside you, but you never felt more exposed.

The cold prickled at your skin, making goosebumps rise as he traced his fingers over your body, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes darkened with desire—a hunger that made you feel terrified. You knew this was not how it was supposed to be, but the fear kept you frozen in place, unable to speak or move.

Small. You felt small like this under him.

While he was still dressed, his hands moved across the expanse of your chest, naked and exposed to the cold, exposed to him.

His touch felt invasive, violating the trust you had once placed in him. The tips of his finger ran from your clavicle to your breast, taking it into his large hand, feeling the weight and softness of it in his palm.

You just wanted him to stop.

Lifting your hands, you wrap them around his wrist, your eyes pleading with him to stop. His eyes soften at this, seeing the fear and betrayal in your eyes. Still, he never felt you looked more beautiful. Under him, your hair splayed around you on the white sheets, your lips puffy from his.

"God, I am horrible." He chuckles, taking your hand in his, kissing the knuckles. "Seeing you like this only makes me want you more."

Eventually he strips like you, easily keeping you pinned to the bed with his strength, not like you could fight anymore. Your limbs were heavy to your side now, legs only twitching in response to his actions.

He had his head buried between your legs, taking his time to savor this. It had been so long since he'd done this after all.

Your essence dripped down his chin and onto the sheets from your countless releases. It had been hours since he took you here, but he barely showed any signs of slowing down, his hunger for you insatiable. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, a symphony of moans and gasps that seemed to echo endlessly.

With the help of an old friend, he had been able to borrow a little something to make things easier. The curse was harder to tame, but he eventually managed to get what he wanted from it.

It had been useful in spiking your drink to keep you pliant and easy to control but awake and aware of everything that was happening.

The only dirty work he really had to do was dispose of your date.

With another gasp, you finish in his awaiting mouth, letting him lick you clean once more. You only whined in overstimulation, thighs futily trying to close as he continued to pleasure you with his tongue.

The night was far from over.

Rising up, he smiles down at you, wiping his mouth with his forearm.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss.

It almost sucked the air from your lungs. You somehow manage to find some fight left in you, pounding your fists on his chest. Not like it helped.

It did, however, serve to piss him off.

Breaking the kiss again, he only frowns at you, holding your wrists together with ease.

"Still?" He asks, his voice low and dangerous. "I thought we were past this." His grip tightens, making you wince in pain.

Stubbornly, you only glare at him. Trying to muster up the courage to speak, but your words are caught in your throat. His eyes narrow, a warning glinting in them as he waits for your response.

He tsks when you stay silent, roughly pushing your arms away, squeezing your face together as he made you face him. Your heart beats faster in your chest, and the room almost feels freezing despite everything he's done.

"I hate you." You finally whisper, your throat hoarse from the struggle to get the words out.

His expression softens for a moment before hardening again, and you brace yourself for what comes next. He stays silent, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. He gazes down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sincerity in your words.

Suddenly, he flips you over; a hand pressed to the back of your skull kept your head buried in the sheets, your cheek pressed up against it harshly.

"You don't mean that," he growls into your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

He swiftly moved a pillow under your hips, propping your ass in the air as he positioned himself behind you. The weight of his hand on your head keeps you pinned down, unable to move or escape.

Your limbs still flail, trying to escape him as he groped your ass, gripping it tightly.

Shortly, he grows tired, wanting to move onto more exciting things.

You feel his cock rub between your ass before he moves to the familiar head of his cock between your folds, trying to find purchase. It rubs against your clit in a way that makes your toes curl, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him.

A moan escaping your lips stops your yells for a second. It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it.

"I love you. I fucking love you. I'll make you love me if I have to. You'll see," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he thrusts into you with a force that leaves you gasping for air.

Right away he slams his hips into your over and over again, not giving you time to adjust to his length or to the intensity of his movements. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, causing you to grip the sheets tightly in response to the overwhelming sensation.

Satoru continues his relentless pace, uncaring if it caused you harm or discomfort at the sudden stretch. The only thing on his mind is fulfilling his own desires, regardless of the consequences to you.

The grip in your hair only tightens as he pulls you closer to him, his grunts of satisfaction filling the room. There was undeniable pleasure, but it had begun to meld with pain. You just needed a break.

You had stayed silent, biting the inside of your cheek so much you tasted your own blood. But as his actions become more aggressive, you can't help but let out a small whimper of pain, causing him to pause for a moment before resuming with even more force.

"It hurts!" You cry out, making him halt momentarily, a look of annoyance crossing his face before he resumes with even more aggression, pushing your head down more, making it harder to breathe.

"If you had just stayed," he says, moving again and again, looking down at your ass ripple with each thrust. "It wouldn't be like this."

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as he hits a spot deep inside of you over and over again, your body trembling with conflicting sensations. Your hands grip at the sheets more, your insides beginning to clench around him as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. The intensity of his thrusts only heightens the pleasure, making it impossible to resist the impending release.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying to leave," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. Chest pressed into your back.

He roughly pulls you up by the hair, stopping his thrusts, looking into your eyes; he wanted to know you understood.

Nodding to him, you weakly cry, feeling beyond defeated.

Your mascara ran down your face, and your hair was messy from his grip, but he never thought you looked better. Smiling insanely, he leaned down to kiss you as he resumed his rough movement.

As much as you tried to push it back, you felt yourself get closer and closer. The fear and adrenaline mixed with desire and confusion, creating a twisted sense of pleasure that you couldn't deny.

With a couple more thrusts, he feels you finish around him, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The action had made him follow shortly after, painting your insides white with his own release. A whimper escaped your lips, feeling the large amount that filled you; some of it had already started to drip down your thigh.

He had been saving it all for you.

With shaky arms, he leaned over you, smiling as he laid kisses down your shoulder blades like it was a normal love making session. When he moved you to lie next to him, keeping himself plugged inside, his arms were firmly around you, and his eyes had a love-sick expression.

You had wide eyes and were frozen, unmoving as he put the blanket over the both of you, still not taking himself out. His touch was gentle, but there was a possessiveness in his hold that made you uneasy. As you lay there, trying to process what had just happened, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach.

"We'll clean up in the morning, babe." He said, kissing your forehead as he settled behind you, his arms like a vice. He had tried to brush through your hair and wipe some of your tears, but it didn't help much.

A content sigh escaped his lips as he buried his face into your hair, wistful and airy, like a weight had been lifted from him.

Only it was transferred to you, making your chest tight and unmoving.

Satoru quickly relaxed against you; he was finally happy, with you back in his arms, where you should be. He’d have to repay his friend in the future, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the time he had with you.

For the first time since you left, he slept soundly, and you were wide awake. Even though your eyes were burning to go to sleep, you remained awake while lying in his arms on the bed.

Slowly blinking at the window in front of you, not paying attention to anything in particular, calmly breathing in and out.

Only one thing had gone through your mind after all of this.

You never should have left.

[fangswbenefits]

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

[cheesus-doodles]

Letters

Yandere Rollo

Masterlist | TWST Masterlist

‎

i like my repressed christian boys a lot if yall can't tell ;-;, couldn't pass up on this....tr will be back on schedule next!

Rollo Flamme never imagined himself as simply ordinary. He had always been destined to be extraordinary, committed and focused, willing to put in the work to achieve perfection. Yes, there was no doubt that there were ways to go to meet his goals, seeing as his fire lily plan went up in flames on first contact with that wretched Malleus Draconia and his Night Raven buddies despite his months of meticulous planning and careful scheming.

Yet here he was, walking at a speed Rollo hoped didn’t divulge how fast his heart was pounding away, your letter carefully tucked away deep within his robes, pressed right up against his chest. Green eyes concentrated on nothing but his next step, his poker-face and overall reputation as the Student Council President a god-sent for keeping unwanted attention away as he cut a path through the school towards his room, hands clasped in front of him as they always were. 

Outside the gates of Noble Bell College, Fleur City was as lively as ever, the hustle and bustle of a city coming back to life under the gentle evening sun echoed throughout the conversely silent campus as people enjoyed busking in the remaining sunlight after a long day of work. It was an exceptionally cool day too, the white-haired boy noted to himself, the breeze sweeping down the hallways and bursting forth into the open air strong enough to lift the ends of his robes.

A respectful mumble of “Rollo-kaicho” rose from the scatter of students milling around as he walked past, though nothing that a returned nod of acknowledgement couldn’t settle.

The peacefulness that blanketed the stately campus as the sun sank further and further down the horizon reminded him much of the night of the Young Mage’s Social ball, and more so, you. Rollo could recall that particular evening with perfect clarity, the sights and sounds replaying again in his head as the purple-clad mage made his way indoors, the old wooden door swinging shut behind him with nay a creak, shutting out both the wind and the sounds of the city.

‎

His own footsteps were the only sound ringing across otherwise empty corridors as the boy turned the situation he had found himself unexpectedly stuck in over and over again in his mind. It had never been his intention to fall over his own set trap, yet how was it he did so anyway despite all his wariness and discipline?

This had all begun as a plot for revenge right after he had been bested, by villains no less. It would be hard for Rollo to even admit that he had come to terms with the beating he received several months ago, let alone the night after it happened, and his next plot had already begun to hatch the moment you swept into view dressed in your masquerade costume, accompanied by none other than Malleus himself. From everything he witnessed, it was clear that the Draconia housewarden cared greatly for you, and dare he guess, maybe even had some unexpressed feelings for you. 

Not that he hadn’t noticed you before that night, but it was certainly the first time that he had come to realize just how central a place you held among the Night Raven College students, and how crucial a card you would be in his next plan to wipe that smug smirk off of that wretched fae prince’s face.

The night of the Young Mages’ Social ball had been surprisingly ordinary, given what had just happened. He had been exhausted and dead on his feet, even if he showed no sign of it outwardly; the orderliness of the hall that he painstakingly cleaned after the last fire lotus had withered was a welcomed sight. Alas there was no time for sleep, not that it would matter given his already heavy eyebags. But despite his state, you had instantly caught his eye at the start of the ball, quietly huddled towards the back of the Night Raven group, trying your best to look anywhere but at him or at the rest of the crowd as you and your friends were singled out as the saviors of Fleur City. And it was obvious that you were feeling even more out-of-place as the dance began in earnest, though whether it was from the crowds or just general awkwardness, Rollo could not say.

Taking his leave from the merrymaking, the white-haired Council President could find no surprise within him when he found you sitting alone later outside of the hall, enjoying the peace and quiet that had fallen over the city with the arrival of night, looking up at the blanket of stars, a glass of what looked like juice in your hand.

“May I join you?”

You had jumped at his words, though you did settle quickly upon realizing it was just him for reasons unbeknownst to Rollo. “By all means,” you replied, waving him down to join you. After all, he did just try to essentially kill your friends and all mages in general. Perhaps you knew something he didn’t, the purple-clad student mused to himself, subtly watching you from the corner of his pale green eyes. Or perhaps you were just presumptuous, given you hadn’t been affected as badly as the rest.

The dark sky was clear of clouds, the dark of space dotted with twinkles as far as the eye could see, the moon hanging alone amidst the barren sky; an alluring sight for weary souls - and judging from how discreetly you had excused yourself from the social, you definitely were tired. 

A pause as Rollo took a seat a respectful distance from you. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

Whatever it was, you seemingly held no ill will towards Rollo, simply accepting his quiet company. And so the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the young mages danced and laughed the night away just a stone’s throw away. The minutes melted into hours as the world continued to turn, though the calmness of the reality around him was a far cry from the turmoil of thoughts within his head. 

When the night started to grow old and the cacophony of noises began to die down, it was as if an unheard bell had gone off, and you reluctantly stood, empty glass now in hand - your friends were bound to come looking for you should they notice you were missing. And with you leaving soon and that night being the last one you were spending at Noble Bell College, it was finally time to launch the first phase of his plan.

”I would like to write to you,” Rollo started, immediately cringing internally as the words left his lips, but there was no going back now. “If it is alright with you.”

He held his breath as you considered his request, your head cocking to the side as you contemplated. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged, shooting him a light smile, your hair gleaming in the waning moonlight. “Goodnight, Rollo.”

Exhale. And that was that.

‎

But now here he was, Rollo mused, eagerly anticipating the opportunity to read your letter alone. Has his plan gone astray? He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of you, just till he could be alone. For all his routine and self-discipline, you were the one temptation he couldn’t seem to get squash down.

Coming to a pause at the fork in the hallway, the Noble Bell Council President paused. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted tonight in the midst of his much-needed analysis of your letter, so against the burning desires of his heart and the weight of your letter heavy in his robes, he forced himself to take a detour, his feet carrying him down sparse corridors towards the councilrooms. It was easy to spot his Vice President still hard at work amidst the otherwise empty room, scouring through a stack of papers at his desk, head down and pen scribbling away.

A quiet clearing of his throat was enough to get the attention of the occupant inside. “Rollo-kaicho!” Said student rocketed up from his seat, hurriedly adjusting his slipping striped cap. “What brings you here at this time of day?”

“I wanted to check in before I retired for the day,” replied the white-haired boy, giving a courteous glance to the rest of the unoccupied desks before returning his gaze to the other. “Is there anything I should know about?”

The Noble Bell Vice President stuttered for a moment, lost for words and wrecking his tired brain in an attempt to find what to say. “I-uh-“

Pulling out his celestial-patterned handkerchief, his movement just barely managed to cover the disgusted look that fell over his expression, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing as the stench of magic overwhelmed his senses, though Rollo still managed to keep his tone neutral. Even if he was the one to initiate contact, that hardly made a difference with his nausea. “It’s fine,” the magic-adverse mage managed to grit out without a hint of distaste, his tone as neutral as it always has been. “Please have the points ready for me tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Rollo-kaicho. I apologize again.”

‎

Finally being able to lock his room door behind him brought a relief much like cold water over hot iron, ending the depraved pulsing in his mind that the mere presence of the envelope in his robes against his chest brought on with every passing second. Tossing the heinous paper carelessly onto his well-worn table top, Rollo instead hurriedly picked it back up again, pale green eyes scanning for any further damage he had caused, though fortunately there was none to be found.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the white-haired boy settled into his chair. Now, to satisfy both his curiosity and anticipation.

Trembling fingers carefully peeled open the envelope, revealing a slightly yellowed, unevenly folded paper much to Rollo’s chagrin - he would have much preferred if you used a perfect white piece of paper, quality stationery instead of this random piece you must have had left over from your homework, and if you had folded it the same way he did all this time. But he supposed he couldn’t expect that high a standard from you, given the riff-raff of mages you found yourself in the company of. As he gently freed your letter from its paper enclosure, his sensitive nose caught a whiff of a familiar scent, the smell probably having lingered on from when you first mailed it out.

The light fragrance of your favorite shampoo, Rollo deduced, bringing the paper up to his nose. He recognized it, no matter how faint it was. You must have just finished showering when you wrote and sealed the letter if the aroma still endured. A breath of fresh air amidst the rank odor of magic and mages.

And then he began to read.

Dear Rollo, the letter began as it always did, those two words enough to have his heart skip a beat like nothing else could. But this time, the next few that followed were even better. Your letter came late, and it was sorely missed.

Line by line, you spelled out your daily ongoings, your interactions with your fellow schoolmates, your inner thoughts. Rambling about anything and everything that came to mind, thoughts spilling out without filter straight onto paper. About how Grimm (that filthy magic cat) nearly failed his test again and about how Deuce and Ace got into their latest spat of trouble with their housewarden Riddle. About how Jack and Epel were like to work with on your history project, and how you felt about one of your lunches being stolen by Leona.

Just like that, the minutes slipped through his finger, and with a pang in his heart, Rollo came to the end of your letter.

He placed the paper down on the paper, taking a breath.

How was it that he could feel so attached to another person through a simple piece of paper? How did you ensnare him so effortlessly, bypassing his hard-fought discipline as if it didn’t exist? Did all this mean that his revenge plot against Malleus had already gone awry?

‎

The night was cool and quiet, the moonlight that shone through his stained glass windows bringing the Noble Bell Council President back to that fateful night. A light gust of wind seeped in through a small crack, creaking the old wooden panels in the floor as it blew through his room. 

Your writing had improved, Rollo noted, as per his guidance in his previous letter. You were using a ruler to ensure straight lines, and your handwriting had neaten greatly; a far cry from your first reply to him, the memory of those scrawling letters that ran up and done and every-which way except straight across the paper still causing shivers to run down his spine. That was bad.

Carefully and painstakingly refolding the paper, Rollo stood, returning it to its envelope before moving to stow the letter within his secret compartment above the fireplace, with previous letters neatly arranged upright according to date received. His fingers lightly brushed past all your correspondence with him, his chest fluttering at your willingness to speak with him, his mind already churning with how and what he should reply to you. Would you be interested in perhaps coming back to Noble Bell? Maybe he should visit Night Raven College? Even if that blasted Draconia was there, it would be worth it just to have some private, personal time with you, the white-haired mage calculated, his hand tapping an unknown rhythm across his desk that he now leaned against.

‎

There was no point in denying his obsession with you, not at this point - it had been awhile since you started to occupy his every waking moment and thoughts, and being as organized and detailed as Rollo was, he could pinpoint the exact moment when he began to spiral. Sure, his first letter had been full of nothings, meaningless pleasantries and stories that he polished to perfection over the course of a night of restlessness. But what he got back was your heart on your sleeve, your mind like an open book for him to pick apart and examine.

As things turned out, the more he picked, the more he found. Questions he sent always came back answered, with you evidently letting slip more than you intended to originally say, sometimes directly and sometimes when he read between the lines. 

A single line in your third reply to him was all it took to begin his unending slide. 

You were from a different world.

The more he sat on it, turning it around and round in his mind, the more his chest grew warm, and you began his center of focus. Even the mere passing pondering of what you were doing now was enough to grip Rollo’s entire being, to have his heart rate increase and his thoughts to jumble. After all, in this foul, tainted world, there could be no purer person than someone who came from a place where no magic exists.

You were perfection embodied. 

In a twist of fate, you turned out to be pure, a shining beacon amidst the foul-smelling heathens. A gift from the heavens, a blessings from the divine meant for none other than him, that no one could properly appreciate except for him. Sure you weren’t the most orderly, and you did have your moments where you were occasionally wowed by magic, especially the inhuman feats from that wretched Malleus Draconia, but you remained untainted despite your constant proximity to the taint of magic that surrounded and cloaked you as if a heavy fog. Never indicated anything more than a passing interest in the magic that your companions wielded and an admiration that Rollo was sure he could rid you off. All you needed was time away from those mages, spent instead in his company.

‎

Stepping away from his desk and moving now towards his personal bathroom, Rollo came to the answer he had been looking for as the boy moved to undress himself for a nighttime shower. It had been in front of him all this time.

The answer was no. 

No, he hadn’t forsaken his plan to wield you against Malleus; sure the exact details had changed as the months went by, but everything he did was as he had schemed. Just that now, you didn’t have to be a means to an end, you didn’t need to be just another casualty wrecked up amidst his crusade against the villains. Stealing you away from the fae prince would be one of the largest blows he could deal with to that condescending prick, the beginning of his downfall - the excitement tingling at Rollo’s arms as he imagined the crestfallen expression that would twist Draconia’s face, the streak-free bathroom mirror reflecting the pale green eyes that lighted up in callous pleasure.

It would be glorious.

But for now, Rollo determined, schooling his face back into its usual neutral look as he turned to step into the shower room, what he needed to concentrate on was his next letter to you.

[dcxdpdabbles]

de-aged Danny is one of my babies,

Shit hits the fan with the giw and Danny is super injured and Clockwork has to mess with some things so Danny doesn’t return to his core being vulnerable and sends him millions of miles away to Gotham and in the process Danny becomes 6/10 years old and is weeks healed due to being smaller and costing less ectoplasm but is still achy, Danny is steered to Jason’s apartment where he just got off his shift and then his is the twist! Jason is mute due to an accident with the joker and Batman (batman unintentionally causing his muteness) and out of reflex of a child on his counter hand first into a box of Cheerios let’s put a exasperated noise of flames and a lighter and Danny responds with his own spark of electricity and Jason is shocked (hehe) that Danny can understand and even communicate can he just lets out everything he’s been doing since “holy shit I can talk to someone normally” and then he realizes this child has the same scar as him and is pissed but Danny calms him down and calms the pits and he’s like “okay you’re mine now shit- I’m like Bruce- no. I’ll think about this later-“ Danny is super cute and Jason is having a field day with parent hood and Jason gives Danny a comm for when he goes out but he’s only allowed to speak in ghost speak and the rest are confused when Jason sprints away and they follow to see Danny in Jason’s arms being lulled to sleep with a man on the ground knocked out or dead who knows not Jason because it was shoot & punch and ask questions later and then Danny says sleepily “Oh your daddy’s brothers, hi” like it’s normal to meet family in this situation and Jason puts him to bed before signing “Say anything to Bruce and you will never be called uncle or attend his birthday in your life.”

Bruce only finds out when Jason some how ends up super injured and can’t sign and Danny translates (no editing just straight he said fucking hell) and introduces himself as Danny Todd, Bruce privately cried a little

The Waynes knew that Jason had become far more distant since his accident. Bruce blamed himself, but in the end, it was Joker all over again.

The family had been on other missions when a distress call from Bruce came in. They all raced to give aid- if it was Bruce calling, then you know it was a huge deal- only to find their father figure pressing his hands desperately to the neck of a bleeding Jason.

The Joker had sliced his neck in one of his sick games.

They were able to get him to medical aid and save his life, but the damage to his vocal cords had been too severe. Jason would never be able to speak again.

Since then, Jason has kept his distance. The whole family was fluent in sign language- one of the first of many languages Bruce had them learn for their Bat training- but it only helped them if Jason wanted to sign around them.

It felt like the second oldest was actively trying to avoid the acknowledgment of his injury. Little by little, Jason began to drift away from the family. He no longer arrived early for family dinners to help Alfred cook, he did not say for games or movies afterward, he found excuses to not hang out with the family members, and even after patrol, he left as soon as he finished.

Even texts were becoming less and less frequent. The Wayne children attempt to surprise visit him just so they can make sure he isn't alone until Jason starts jumping between safe houses.

Jason is isolating himself, and the Waynes are alarmed by the way he is retreating into himself. This continued for months, and nothing they did worked to help him.

Despite the desperate attempts to connect to him, Jason was too far gone to be reached. He did not die, but they lost him all the same.

Then, one day, out of the blue, Jason's distance changed. Yes, he was still not coming around the family much, but the sadness on his shoulders loosened.

His demeanor was still tired, but not as if his soul was exhausted. He still ran off after patrol, but instead of a shameful shuffle, his stride was more excited.

No one knew why, but Wyanes breathed a sigh of relief at the change.

They also had some theories.

"He has a lover!" Dick exclaims after watching Jason run off the second Bruce dismisses them. He had stopped to clean himself up a little before riding out as Jason, the civilian. "He's going to go get ready for a hot date."

"He found a new book series." Duke offered as Jason seemed to be writing in a little notebook. He was thoughtful and dazed as he wrote like whatever notes he took were something he would revisit again. "He is writing fanfiction again."

"His crime empire is being threatened, so he is slowly picking off traitors," Tim proposed after seeing Jason upgrade his security to his home and safe houses. He even added a new line to the cons so that he could listen to his home like a Bat version of a baby monitor. "Doing it quick and quietly to not let them escape."

"He is going back to school!" Steph announced happily when she saw him at the store buying school supplies. "He can finally get that diploma he has always wanted!"

"He has found a new passion for a hobby," Damian countered after seeing Jason look over his old art easel. Jason had asked Damian what he recommended for a beginner. "It's allowing him to have an outlet in a creative, healthy manner."

"He has fallen for a book character again and can't tell the difference between reality and Fiction." Bruce fretted after seeing Jason chuckle to himself at post-it notes that had little hearts in his lunch box. They were signed by Jason's favorite characters in a writing that was reasonably similar to Jason's.

Cass only smiled knowingly, but she always seemed to know more of what was happening than the rest, no matter the situation.

The only other person who knew more than her was Alfred, but that man would never share secrets with anyone for any reason.

Jason seemed unaware of their theories or concerns (Bruce) since he was always busy doing whatever he was doing. It got to the point they decided to follow him about, only becoming more confused when Jason visited places like pre-schools and kid-friendly parks around the city.

It didn't help that Jason caught on to the fact he was being followed, leading the Bats all over the city to random locations and had them fumbling about what was a natural destination and what was retaliation for the trailing.

Then, one night, while the Bats were meeting up on a rooftop for some briefing and a breather, the new con line sprung to life, scaring everyone connected to it out of their skins.

"There is a strange man in the house!" A voice screeched. A young voice, one that didn't even sound like it belonged to someone who had reached their double digits.

At once, Jason jumped from his slouched-over position near the building's roof door and flung himself over the edge. His grabbing hook hissed as the large man threw himself across the rooftops frantically.

Stunned, the Bats watched him go, unsure of what was happening, until the young voice spoke again, a soft whisper. "He is in the hall- he has a knife."

A strange crackle of fire and electricity was heard over the con, and it took them all a moment to realize that it had come from Jason. The child- a boy based on the voice- responded with a slight tremble. "I'm hiding in my closet. I'm scared."

The words of a distressed child kickstart their brains, and everyone snaps to attention.

"Oracle, where is the signal originating from?" Bruce snaps, throwing himself over the edge to follow Jason. The rest of the family is right behind him.

"Jason's safe house in Uptown Gotham," Babs responds instantly with the accompanying clicking of her keyboard. She sucks a breath through her teeth in a pained hiss. "B, the address for Jason's safe house... it's connected to Upper Smiles Preschool for Danny Todd. Jason is marked as his father."

There is ice in everyone's veins when she says that as Danny- Jason's son- lets out a choked sob, then a scream that horrifies everyone as they try to run faster. "He found me! Help! Help! Daddy! Help!"

A boom goes off across the communicator, and they know Jason is responsible for the nose, but there is no explosion. Not that it matters.

They, too, understand what Jason meant by the strange noise he made- it's a protective rage that someone would dare to even think of harming one of their own.

Every Wayne pushes themselves past their limits, unwilling to let themselves be too late.

"Hold on, sweetheart, help is on the way. Hit him with anything around you until it gets there." Babs tells him, her voice cracking as Danny cries, and a man yelling can be heard.

"You little shit!" An unknown roars, and everyone hates him instantly. "I'll teach you some fucking manners!"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

They are ten minutes out even when they drop into the batmobile and company bikes. Jason is only eight. But every second feels like a lifetime as they listen to what Danny is going through.

There are sounds of struggles, of a tiny voice screaming and crying, then- gunshots.

Two loud and clear gunshots. Then silence, the kind that makes even a grave loud.

Bruce's grip on the steering wheel tightens to the point of pain, and everyone is in no better state. The silence over the con is just as devastating as Jason's mournful crackle, like a dying fire.

No. No gods, no, please don't let this mean Danny is-

"Not to worry, dear child, I am here." Alfred's warm, soothing voice is heard, and everyone almost collapses in relief. Danny's cries are muffled like his face is pressed against something as Alfred coos. "It's alright. It's alright, you're safe now. Shh"

Jason makes a sound similar to thunder.

"Yes, Master Jason, I was in the neighborhood. I wanted to bring my great-grandson a little present and saw this healthen mucking about where he does not belong. I shall be moving Danny to the manor."

It's a command that does not allow any arguing, but no one dares to say anything as they collectively change direction to the manor. Patrol for the night has been canceled.

They had a new little addition to the family that needed them more than ever. Now that they knew about him, they would never allow Jason to keep Danny away from them.

Later in the night, after hugs, kisses, and greetings, Danny is painting alongside Damian. He standing on a small stool to reach the easel, wearing an apron with the Batman symbol, and is smiling like there are no troubles in the world.

Everyone's heart melts when he asks them if they can sit still for him to paint a family portrait. He isn't Jason's by blood, but that has hardly mattered to a family such as the Waynes.

All they need to know is that Danny was found wandering around Jason's old safe house, speaking in the strange sounds that Jason could make, and was the cause for the second oldest to regain his joy of life.

All that mattered was that tiny, little six-year-old Danny Todd was one of theirs, and they would love him with all their hearts.

Master Post Link

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter one

Summary: Cry Baby went on a date? And, it wasn't with Bucky?

Warning: Smoking. Alcohol, tipsy motorcycle driving. DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE KIDS. Crying. Bucky is so toxic but sweet, I'm a fool.

Word Count: 1528

Spotify Playlist | Tips

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I speed-wrote this so the posting schedule wasn't out of sync, but ooops hit the post now button too early. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute

Three months passed since that night at your apartment, in that time, the routine had become almost ordinary. It was a pattern, Bucky would show up at your apartment bruised and grazed up, and you would patch him up. Without questioning why or how it happened. The worry still gnawed at the back of your mind. 

Summer had settled over the city, warmth wrapping around everything from the streets to the bar. The familiar sounds of laughter and motorcycle engines roaring became clearer as you got closer to the bar. Already late to meet your friends as is, you began to walk a little faster. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t the prettiest face in the city,” Rumlow drawled, his eyes raking over your body, making your skin crawl, as you walked passed him and his group of friends to get toward the door of the bar. 

“Rumlow,” you acknowledged as you tried to move past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“What’s the rush? How about you and I have a little chat?” a smirk tugged at his lips as he began to reach up toward your cheek.

You glanced around, hoping to spot a familiar face that wasn’t loyal to Rumlow, but the street was eerily quiet. “I’m meeting my brother, excuse me.” 

He leaned in closer, his hand now reaching your cheek. Gently caressing it as he continued to speak, “I’ve been watching you, you know. I’ve always wondered if you taste as sweet as you look.” 

Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, your eyes darting toward anything but his. Unbeknownst to you, Sam Wilson had pulled up outside the bar, just in time to witness the interaction. 

Without hesitation, Sam dismounted his motorcycle and strode toward you. “Is there a problem here?” Sam’s words cut through the air like a knife, drawing the attention of both you and Rumlow as he grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket. 

A sign of relief escaped your breath at the sight of Sam, grateful for the timely intervention. Rumlow, on the other hand, sized up Sam with a gace before deciding to retreat, bringing his hand up as a show of surrender. 

“I’ll see you around,” He said toward you, his tone dripping with implication before he turned back toward his friends. 

Same watched his every move, his expression guarded. He turned to you, once he was assured Rumlow wasn’t an issue anymore. “You okay?” he asked, offering a reassuring smile. 

You nodded, and the weight of the tension lifted. “Thanks, Sam.” Same returned the nod, giving the area another look around before leading you into the bar. His protective instincts were still alert.

Inside, the rest of the group noticed as both you and Sam walked through the door. You all exchanged greetings as you slid into the booth next to Bucky. The scent of your vanilla perfume mixed with the smell of smoke and beer, a combination that had become comforting to him. 

As you settled into the booth, Bucky rested his arm over the back of the booth behind your head. “Took you long enough,” Natasha gestured her bottle toward you before taking a quick sip. “The date went that well, did it?” She couldn’t resist making a joke at your expense.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of a date, his jaw clenched as your cheeks rushed with heat. “A date, huh?” he remarked, sarcasm laced in his tone.

You began fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “Um, yeah…” you mumbled, trying to avoid the gazes of your friends and especially your brother. 

Before you could dwell anymore on it, Steve redirected the conversation, but the sense of Bucky’s fist clenching not far from your head made the unease linger. 

Throughout the night, you found yourself stealing glances at Sam, unsure of how to navigate the aftermath of the situation outside. You began replaying his words in your mind, causing your emotions to get the better of you. 

Bucky sensed your sudden quietness, catching one of your sniffles. “What now?” he mumbled, only loud enough for you to hear. 

“Just ran into someone outside,” you sniffled again, glancing back at Bucky with tears in your eyes. “It’s fine now,” you shot him an unconvincing smile. 

“Yeah,” he began as he picked up his bottle, “looks like it.” he glanced back down at you as he took a swig. 

~

As you stepped outside, you watched as your friends began to retrieve their motorcycles, getting ready to leave. The six of you began mumbling goodnights to each other, you telling each of them to drive safely, as Bucky stood watching by his motorcycle. He offered you a tentative smile and gestured toward the helmet on his seat. “Need a ride?” 

You nodded, and he passed you the helmet as you climbed onto the back. The ride was exhilarating, wind whipped through the stray strand of your head as you clung to Bucky’s waist. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said softly as you dismounted after he turned off the engine outside your apartment building. 

“Anytime, Sweetheart,” he paused before he turned to face you, his expression serious. “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked, his eyes searching yours as you passed him the helmet back. A knot formed in your stomach, and you nodded sheepishly. “I hope your date went well.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling self-conscious you pulled your cardigan further around you. “Um, yeah, it was okay,” you mumbled, trying to avoid his gaze.

He began to chuckle softly, sensing your nervousness. “Just okay? Wow, sounds thrilling,” he remarked with a sarcastic tone.

You managed a weak smile, his teasing making you feel more embarrassed. “Um, well, it was our second date,” you admitted shyly, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “He asked for a third,” 

Bucky’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but the playful smirk never left his lips. “Oh, did he?” an amused tone in his response. “Looks like you made quite an impression then,” he continued, his tone was still playful but yet, intrigued. “Is it Sam?” he questioned.

Your head shot up to meet his gaze, and confusion spread across your features. “What? No, it’s, um, well it’s,” you paused, your nervousness causing you to hesitate. “It’s a guy from work, John Walk-,”

Bucky’s playful demeanor vanished in an instant, anger replacing the simmer in his eyes. His jaw tensed, and his eyes narrowed into a hard glare as he processed what you admitted. 

“John Walker?” Bucky’s voice was low, a dangerous growl, the name left a sour taste in his mouth. 

You nodded, “Yeah, um, he’s just a guy from work,” you hesitantly replied, thrown off-guard by Bucky’s transformation. 

“That son of a…” his voice trailed off, the words barely contained his fury. His anger seemed to intensify, his voice rising in volume as he continued venting his frustration toward you. “I can’t believe you’d even consider going near him!” he bellowed, words echoing through the empty street. 

You flinched at the force of his outburst, each word felt like it was a physical blow. “Bucky��” your voice quivering with emotion. 

His features contorted in anger as he continued, “You don’t understand!” He was consumed by his rage, causing it almost impossible for you to hear your voice asking him to stop. “He’s dangerous, he’s… he’s not someone you want to be involved with!”

Each word began to cut deeper than the last, leaving you feeling vulnerable, the tears spilled down your face. “Please, Bucky,” you shouted back at him, your voice rising in desperation, “stop shouting at me!” 

Your raised voice caught Bucky off guard, his anger faltering the moment he finally looked down at you. At that moment, he saw the tears, the fear, and the hurt. The realization that he had caused it, hit him like a punch to the gut. 

Bucky let out a heavy sigh as his features softened, the red lights in his eyes dimming as he reached down to gently wipe your soaked cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, every part of him filled with regret, “I… I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“Sh-shouting at m-me like th-that doesn’t hel-help,” your voice shaky, and interrupted by hiccups. His gaze truly softened as he took in your words. 

With that, he pulled you into a comforting hug, holding you close as you both took a moment to calm down. 

“Let’s get you inside, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice now barely a whisper as he felt your shaking subside. You nodded, sniffling as you pulled back from him. 

That night, you both walked up to your apartment, and Bucky kept a protective arm around you. Once inside, you realized tonight would be different. Usually, you’d make your way to the kitchen and begin patching up his wounds. 

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he said, leading you toward your couch. He fetched a warm face cloth and gently wiped away the tear stains on your cheeks. You leaned into his comforting touch, a new sense of safety enveloping you.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[bunnyhugs77]

Angel Eyes

𓆩♡𓆪Pairing: Patient! Jungkook x Reader

𓆩♡𓆪WC: 8.2k

𓆩♡𓆪The Honeymoon (Epilogue)

𓆩♡𓆪Content Warning: hospital romance, mentions of birth, blizzard, car accidents, smthn abt soulamtes, ft Jin, medical emergencies, making out, jk is a free spirit, tattoos, rehabilitation, they're so cute, cafeteria dates, meet cute, weddings, sexual themes, comas, newborn baby, angsttt :(

The double doors to the emergency room burst open with a team of paramedics meeting a team of nurses over the limp body that was being rushed in on a gurney.

"26-year-old male. One of many from the four-car pile-up on Highway 400. Blunt head trauma —shattered ribs, compound fractures in both legs. He's unconscious, showing premature signs of decline. We need to get him stabilized immediately."

"Prepare the operation room." One of the nurses orders and the chaos moves around the corner with the gurney.

A team of trauma surgeons and nurses worked frantically to stabilize him. He was quickly assessed for injuries, and diagnostic tests revealed the extent of the damage he had sustained

The man suffered from internal injuries, including a punctured lung and severe abdominal trauma. There was a point when doctors were sure he wouldn't make it but they were wrong.

After undergoing several surgeries in the first few days following the accident, including procedures to repair his fractured bones, remove damaged tissue, and stabilize his internal injuries he was beginning to show small signs of improvement.

However, it was only the beginning of a very long and hard journey for him.

𓆩♡𓆪 2 months later

"Where is she?" You stand up at the sight of your brother-in-law, Jin rushing into the waiting room of the labour and delivery wing. Face flushed and hair a bit frazzled. He'd obviously run here from the parking lot.

"Down the hall to your left. They're just running some tests and checking the baby." He pauses in his steps, letting it all sink in. Placing a hand on his chest as he tried to stabilize his breathing.

Taking the chance to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Everything is going to be okay, breathe." You encourage, taking tips from the Lamaze classes your sister had made the three of you take in preparation for this baby.

He smiles before making his way to his wife and out of sight.

Meanwhile, you stayed put in the waiting room as your sister made it very clear she did not want you in the room any time her vagina was out and you weren't going to argue.

Seeing that the doctors needed to check up on the baby once the two of you arrived no less than 15 minutes ago, you had already excused yourself to the hall.

Once you saw the familiar nurse you remember being assigned to your sister walk past you, you deemed it was safe enough to return to her room. Knocking first with your hand over your eyes.

There was soft laughter, "It's been put away, you can open your eyes." Eunji says, allowing you to lower your palm from your gaze to see Seokjin sitting on a chair nestled near Eunji's bedside.

"Wow, they've got you hooked up like a TV." You snort, pointing to the IV drip, pulse oximeter, and various other tubes taped to her arm.

Shaking her head at your typical Y/n-Antics but refusing to acknowledge your joke any further. "What did the nurse say?" Jin asks, almost anxiously, taking her hand in his.

"The baby is fine, she's healthy, but I'm a long way from giving birth. Apparently-" Eunji pauses, her eyes squeezing shut just as they did back at your place when the two of you discovered she'd been having contractions.

Taking deep breaths she opens her eyes and resumes speaking as if it never happened, "Apparently I'm only one centimeter dilated. I'm already tired of this place." She pouts sadly while Jin gently moves a stray hair from out of her face.

You sighed internally, hoping that one day you'd find that.

"I'm just glad you guys made it here safely. The roads are getting worse with that blizzard coming in tonight." Jin shares which prompts you to check your phone while the couple talks about what a normal couple would discuss at a time like this.

Jin was right. There in fact was a blizzard heading your way and it was nasty. Up to six feet of snow in some regions and harsh winds. It was practically impossible to see the road through all the flurries on your way here.

It was unsafe for anyone to be driving at a time like this hence why Eunji had already begged your parents to stay home until the roads were safe. No matter how much she knew your parents wanted to be present for the birth of their first grandchild it was just too dangerous.

This winter was packed with a punch this year. You can't forget the first major storm of the season about two months ago that blindsided everyone.

The severity of the storm dawns on you as you remember driving past a nasty collision on the highway on your way home from work.

You could only hope that this would be the end of the strenuous icy season and that spring would be just around the corner. You were looking forward to the blossoming season of spring but not as much as you were looking forward to holding your niece in your arms in just a few short hours.

𓆩♡𓆪

Clearly, you and your niece weren't on the same page.

It's been 4 hours and the hospital was on lockdown, any visitors in the building were forbidden from leaving due to the severity of the storm outside. Honestly, some part of you believed you would have been able to hold your niece and go home all in the last three hours, but oh how you were wrong.

"What do you mean you're only 3 centimetres along?" You say, exhausted from waiting. "Oh, I'm sorry Y/n, are you tired? How inconsiderate of me!" She exclaims, clearly annoyed with you.

You dropped your shoulders, you deserved that. Eunji had been battling her contractions restlessly for hours on end, you couldn't imagine how she felt.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" She shakes her head while Jin returns with a full cup of ice for her to chew on. Your stomach rumbles, and not quietly.

"You should go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I'll stay with Eunji." Jin offers and you nod, deciding it was time for a break anyway.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you stood in the café line, unsure what to get before deciding to get a typical iced coffee and a turkey sandwich.

Once it came time to find a spot, your eyes were scanning every nook and cranny of the filled cafeteria due to the overwhelming number of people trapped in this building just as you were.

Finally, you found one available spot, at an occupied table. "Is anyone sitting here?" You ask the man who was enjoying his own coffee. "It's all yours," He smiles and you reciprocate it as you take a seat.

Paying him no mind as you bite into your meal and pull out the book you've been reading over the last few weeks.

"The String of Fate," The man across from you mumbles as he reads the title of your book causing your eyes to flicker to his. "What's it about?" You close the book almost too eagerly.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" He blinks at you.

"Y'know, like two people that are destined to be together no matter the time or place." His brow arches. "Not a chance." You frown, "Well, basically this book explains the concept of soulmates and how they're connected by this invisible string between them that will always guide them back to each other. No matter the time or place."

He sighs heavily, head now resting on his hand. "I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here and assume that you believe in soulmates?"

"What's there not to believe? It makes total sense-" You ask, about to take your first bite of your sandwich. "I wouldn't eat that if I were you," He says quickly, and you close your mouth, placing the sandwich back down.

"Why not?" He simply stares at you, "Trust me. I've been here long enough to know." You nod slowly, "You must visit a lot."

With a shrug of his shoulders, he finishes the last of his coffee, "Something like that." He mumbles.

Your stomach reminds you of the hunger you'd just permitted to exist longer all in the name of this handsome stranger you'd just met. "So what can I eat here?"

He grins and your stomach twists.

"Follow me." You pack up your stuff and stand. Unable to process your thoughts once the man moves away from the table in his wheelchair.

"Oh c'mon, don't give me that look." He sighs.

"What look?" You counter, genuinely confused.

"That look of 'oh my gosh, he's in a wheelchair. Now everything is different.'" He says in a slightly raised tone.

"First of all, I didn't think that at all. I was just shocked." He looked almost deflated until you spoke up, "So are we still getting jello or what?" He smiles, leading the way.

-

"Hey! Hey! Mister Lightning McQueen, do you mind slowing down a bit? Or at least tell me your name so I don't have to keep yelling mister." You pant, finally catching up to him at the end of the hall.

"Sorry." He flushes a light pink before a quick clearing of his throat, "I'm Jungkook." He stretches his hand and you shake it gently, "Y/n." You say, the two of you hold hands a little longer than necessary before a visitor attempts to get by and you pull your hand away first.

Fast forward to the two of you sitting on the chairs in god knows which wing of the hospital, the building was so damn big. Licking the spoons of your delicious cherry jello as you were both facing the window that looked out into the midnight sky.

"So what brings you here tonight?" He asks as he scoops around his cup for another spoonful. "My sister is giving birth. At least that's what I thought was supposed to happen but the baby doesn't want to come yet." He laughs, "That's amazing. Not the part about the baby holding your sister's womb hostage but- you know what I'm trying to say."

Unable to control your laughter at his bizarre wording, "Yeah, I get it." A silence falls between the two of you, sitting on your shoulders. You wanted to say something but you weren't sure- "It's okay, Y/n. You can ask." He speaks without even looking at you. Focused on getting his next spoon of jello.

"How did you end up here?" You ask and Jungkook begins the age-old story. He was coming home from work during that crazy storm 2 months ago. He said he didn't remember much from the actual accident, one second he's in his lane and the next there's an eighteen-wheeler sliding right into him and dragging two others in with him.

"I don't even remember being rushed in here, I just remember waking up 3 days later and the doctors telling me I was lucky to be alive. Telling me I had basically injured every bone I had. Head trauma, shattered ribs, a punctured lung, fractured both my legs- and the list goes on."

Your jaw falls open. Hand raising to cover your mouth for two reasons.

"You really are lucky to be alive."

It seems that Jungkook disagrees, "Yet I don't feel all that lucky. I wake up to the same faces, getting poked at and pricked every hour. Going to rehab every other day, my body hurts constantly. I can't even count how many painkillers and antibiotics I take every morning." You frown.

"I'm grateful to be making progress of course, but sometimes It feels like the world is passing me by while I'm standing still-- or sitting, for that matter.." You'd never connected to anything more.

"I totally understand. Under different circumstances of course, but I think I get what you mean. Ever since I was 7 I'd had this perfect vision of how my life should be by the time I was 25. A nice house, with a loving husband and maybe a baby on the way with my six-figure paying job but here I am, 26, sitting in a waiting room, single, waiting for my sister to have a baby so that I can go home to my office job that sure as hell doesn't pay enough for a nice house."

Your story provokes a soft chuckle to come rumbling from Jungkook's chest and you swat at him. "And it's like, you want to take steps forward but it's almost like you can't because everything is out of your control. The most decisive factor of a good life is controlled by everyone but you. It sucks." Jungkook expands on your thoughts further and you'd never felt so seen before.

"I-" You begin but the PA system begins to blare someone's voice as they make an announcement.

"Code Yellow. Code Yellow." Jungkook's vision darts to his wristwatch. "Shit. It's been an hour already?" You weren't following, "What's going on?" Jungkook begins to roll back, tossing away his garbage in the bin while you stand and do the same.

"Code yellow is just their dramatic way of declaring a patient is missing. Although-" His eyes fly past you and to whoever was behind you, it was a furious nurse. "Jeon Jungkook." She says and he groans, "I know- I know."

Jungkook hardly got to speak before he was being pushed away back to wherever his room was. "I hope your sister has a safe delivery." You stand still in the middle of the hall as you watch Jungkook get whisked out of sight.

Unable to stop thinking about how disappointed he looked once that nurse appeared. Clearly, he didn't want to go back. You couldn't shake what he told you, about seeing the same people every day, following the same painful routine.

You wondered if he had any family that visited him.

Speaking of which, it was time for you to return to your own.

𓆩♡𓆪

7 hours later you were finally holding the most perfect baby girl in your arms. "She's beautiful, Eunji," you say tearfully, staring at the adorable infant who was just so tiny in your arms.

"I can't believe I'm holding your baby right now." You say to no one in particular while Seokjin stands behind you looking down at the baby, he looks like he's still in awe himself.

Carefully passing her back into your sister's tired arms. You had the honour of taking their first family photo. With Seokjin's eyes full of love and your sister displaying the happiest smile you'd ever seen.

"She's perfect." You hear him whisper with a kiss to Eunji's forehead and your heart just about melts at the heartwarming sight.

𓆩♡𓆪 7 days later

The moment that you left that hospital that morning you felt almost... sad? Like you had a happiness hangover. You were truly overjoyed, you finally got to meet your niece and you met Jungkook who left an unanticipated imprint on your brain.

You tapped your nails against the desk in your cubicle, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your eyes glanced at the time at the bottom of the computer screen.

Your break was in 20 minutes, you had an hour to do whatever and sure, you could spend it here continuing your work so that you could go home earlier...but the hospital is nearby...

No more than a 10-minute drive.. maybe you could drop by? Just for a little?

You didn't leave yourself much time to debate it as you were already marching out of the office the moment the clock hit 12. You'd decided to pick up some flowers from the gift shop on your way up.

Following the receptionist's instructions that she gave you to locate his room with a nervous click of your heels with each step. What if he didn't want to see you? Does he even remember you?

You saw him through the glass window briefly and adjusted yourself to an angle where he couldn't see you. He was just laying there. Staring up at the ceiling, but he sat up once a nurse walked in.

It seemed that she was doing some routine checkups before pricking him with a needle of some kind. You'd always been the type to squirm with needles yet he was unfazed, it was like he couldn't even feel it.

Once she left she passed you with a small smile. Slowly you walk to the door and his gaze slowly drags towards you. His eyes smile before his lips, and he sits up.

"Y/n!" He says with such a joyful tone, you would never expect the voice to belong to someone sitting in a hospital bed. "Hi," You say, unsure of what to do with the flowers.

"Don't tell me you're still waiting for your sister to give birth." He says with a little sarcasm and you laugh with a shake of your head. "No, little miss Seol-a came fashionably late."

"As in 'snow child'? That's a perfect name." You agree. Watching him as his gaze drops to your arms. "Oh- These are for you." Bringing the small bouquet of tiger lilies to him, he accepts it gratefully.

"Thank you-- Really, you didn't have to. You visiting me is more than enough of a gift, and they're Tiger Lilies, too. Fun fact, that's actually my birth flower." It was like a lightbulb had gone off in your head but you ignored it.

Maybe that was just a coincidence, but you didn't like that word. You preferred to use something much stronger, that starts with an 'F', and ends with an 'ate'.

"Pull up a chair, please. I don't want to be the only one sitting." He insists, gesturing to the chair near the wall and you bring it a bit closer.

Letting out a soft sigh of relief once you were off your feet, "God, I hate heels." You mutter, "I'm guessing you have to wear them for that magical job of yours," Your face turns sour, "Magic isn't the word I'd use to describe it,"

Just like that the two of you fell down a rabbit hole of conversation, exchanging work experiences and even phone numbers at one point.

"So tell me, Y/n. In a perfect world, if you could just drop everything, what would you do?" You pretended to give it thought as if you hadn't known for the last decade. "I'd want to open a hair salon... Is that crazy? I don't think I've ever actually said that out loud before."

"What's stopping you?" You laugh, a little too hard, thinking of the dozens of reasons why it wasn't practical and way too impulsive but the longer you looked at his neutral expression you began to reflect on the reasons.

And they all came back to the same root, "What if I fail?" He shrugs, "You can't fail unless you give up." You couldn't believe you were actually considering this. Shaking your head dramatically, clearing your brain.

"You're such a bad influence, y'know? I can't believe you really almost made me do that." His bunny-like smile is on display when he speaks, "That wasn't me, that was your instinct. For a brief second, you just listened to your heart."

Woah.

"Wanna see something cool?" His hand raises and gestures to his lower body, and you watch as the blankets begin to stretch over the small peak that began to form under the covers as he bends his left knee slightly.

"Jungkook! That's incredible." You gasped, eyes wide and you weren't sure what came over you, but before you knew it you'd taken him in your arms.

His body was still a bit weak but his arms responded almost immediately. Holding you still for the short duration of the hug before you pulled away.

"Are you okay- I'm sorry, did I hurt you-" A small panic consumes you as Jungkook's eyes tint a faint red and well with tears. "No, no. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just been so long since someone's been so happy for me."

His words weighed down in your chest like a pile of bricks. "Does no one visit you?"

"All my friends and family came to visit right after the accident. Then it was just my best friends and my parents who came a few times a week. Soon people don't have time to visit someone who makes such little progress every day."

He continues to explain, "But I don't hold it against them. It's a time commitment. The real world is more demanding than I am and I just can't wait for the day I get to meet them out there."

Gently placing your hand on top of his, "You're gonna be out of here before you know it-" A familiar ringer goes off in your bag. You pull out your phone and stop the alarm. "Well, my break ends soon." You stand and you tell yourself that you're imagining the small frown peels over his lips.

Putting the chair back where you found it you walk to the door. "Bye Jungkook, it was good to see you again." With that, you walk away and Jungkook is left in despair. That was it? It's over?

You were just gonna walk into his room and bless him with the most revitalizing conversation he's ever had and you're leaving?

Before he gets the chance to deflate into his pillows your head pops back into the doorframe, "See you tomorrow." You wink and vanish once again. Knowing that you'd given him a little wave of sadness at first.

His shoulders shake with laughter, relieved.

𓆩♡𓆪

Staying true to your word, you in fact did go back to visit him the next day, except you went after your shift since 40 minutes simply wasn't enough time.

For the first few weeks of your daily visits, Jungkook was afraid that one day you would stop coming and he wouldn't see you again, but once three months had passed, there was no doubt in his mind he would walk out of this hospital without you by his side.

You'd even met his parents once, by accident of course. You were just leaving when they'd been walking in and of course, they had no idea who you were.

Telling them about how the two of you met was quite entertaining, Accidentally mentioning the part where Jungkook had been called a missing patient which earned him a soft pinch to his arm from his mother.

But you'll never forget the words his mother whispered in your ear as she hugged you. "Thank you for loving my son." Your cheeks flushed and you stuttered, trying to clarify things but she didn't want to hear it.

"It's okay, I know." She says with the most subtle of winks before walking off with her husband who shook your hand graciously.

Not every day was full of laughs and feasts that you'd bring him from the outside world, there were definitely down days. Days when the pain would call for a stronger dose of his medications which left him burnt out and groggy.

But there were also good days like today. You had the honour of helping Jungkook take some of his first steps for a few feet before being right behind him with the wheelchair.

You weren't able to stop your tears while Jungkook apologized to the physical therapist for your constant crying. You cried every time you saw him move on his own, but he thinks it's cute.

It's evident how much you care about him. By now your entire family knew about your blossomed friendship, and it seems he was all you could talk about. He could only hope that you knew how much he cared about you.

He would love to surprise you at work one day with lunch or take you to your favourite places. Alas, that was among the list of things he unfortunately couldn't control but promised to do once he got out.

He had a section of notes dedicated to you and all the places he would take you, it's what he always hid against his chest anytime you tried peaking.

-

"You won't believe what I just did!" Those are the first words that escape your mouth in the most dramatic of ways as you practically burst into his room.

He jolts, his book now falling forgotten from his fingers, you'd startled him and you apologized. You weren't usually here at noon. So he welcomes your explanation with a warm smile and curious eyes.

"So I went to work this morning, and they called us all in for a meeting. I was expecting another spontaneous workshop about professional behaviour or something. They drop this huge bomb on us that the company is downsizing so they're laying off a third of the company and basically cutting everyone's salary in half." It all comes out in a single breath, so you give yourself some time to breathe.

Jungkook wasn't following, "This sounds like... bad news? Am I missing something? Why do you look so happy?"

"Because I quit my job. I've been thinking about what you said for a while now, about following my heart, and I think I've always been waiting for some kind of sign or opportunity to just go for it, so today was the day." Now that you'd finally gotten the jitters out, you pulled up a chair.

"I know it's crazy, I don't know what I was thinking, but I just got off the phone with one of the property managers of those empty studios downtown and it was all so exciting and I don't even know where I'm going to get the money but I think I can-"

Jungkook finally silenced you with his lips.

He kissed you.

His lips were soft as they worked against yours. You could feel him smile as the kiss deepened. You moved out of your chair to the bed without breaking contact. Pulling away briefly for air but resuming as though you couldn't be apart for more than a second.

You weren't sure when you'd ended up on top of him with Jungkook on his back and your hips grinding down onto his softly, still a bit cautious.

"You have-" He kisses down your neck, peppering kisses between his words, "-No idea-" His lips kissing right below your ear, "-How long I've wanted to kiss you." His teeth gently nibble on the skin of your ear causing a whine to escape your lips.

Suddenly there was a fast beeping and it was only getting faster.

A nurse walks in and you just about throw yourself off of Jungkook and onto the ground. "What's going on in here? Your heart rate was way too fast, Mr. Jeon." He bites his lip nervously while you get yourself on your feet.

"Sorry, Nurse Lynn. I was just trying some new exercises and I guess I got a bit carried away." He says the last part with a lustful look in his eye when he glances towards you.

Once she left you let your hand cover your mouth in pure shock, laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my god, I can't believe that just happened." Jungkook throws his head back onto the pillows with a heavy breath.

"Those nurses can't let me have shit in here. I can't even rub one out in the shower without them barging in." Your jaw drops, "It's happened more times than I'd like to speak about." The shame that seems to swallow him up makes you laugh even harder.

-

"How's the salon going?" He's the first to ask you once you walk out of the bathroom and your shoulders drop. Taking a seat beside him on the bed, "It's a lot harder than I thought it would be. My contractor is being a total pain in the ass, but at least it's starting to come together, look-"

You swipe through the photos of the empty studio that was now painted. "I can't wait to see it." He says, and you look away from the screen. Focusing on his beautiful brown eyes. "Me too." He steals a sweet kiss from you before resuming his swipe through your phone with a cheeky grin.

For the first time, you noticed how empty his left arm was compared to his right. His right arm was covered in tattoos that the two of you had spent nearly an hour talking about once, while his left arm was blank.

"Why don't you have any tattoos on your left arm?" He places down your phone, making eye contact with you once again. "I wanna save it for something special, something meaningful, like the Batman symbol." His nerdy remark makes you snort.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Hi Jungko-Oh." This was unusual.

Of all the times you'd visited Jungkook, there was probably only one other time where you'd caught him sleeping, although that was a late night. It was only sometime around 3 in the afternoon.

You didn't want to disturb him, so you left him a little sticky note for him to read when he wakes up. You didn't want him to think that you never came.

The following day the two of you were having a bit of a hard time getting Jungkook out of bed. "I thought you wanted to do some more walking?" You offer, standing with his walker but he laid back unmotivated.

"Not today, maybe another day. I'm just a bit tired." He mumbles and you nod, "Oh. Okay." But your heart wasn't settled, something was wrong.

The week continued with his slow responses and fatigue. "Are you okay?" He hums, his eyes shutting tight as he grunts softly. "Yeah, just got a bit of a headache, that's all. I'll be better by tomorrow." He reassures you, and you insist on getting him some water.

"Nurse Lynn." You call out for the Nurse as you cross paths as you return from refilling Jungkook's water bottle. She stops and begins to approach you. "Jungkook has been acting a bit off lately. He's been really tired and he says he has a headache and I just want to know if anything is going on."

You can see that she really begins to think about anything it could be. You follow her as she goes off to check his charts. Looking through the window, Jungkook had already fallen asleep.

"His numbers seem to be fine, but we'll keep a close eye on them tonight and run some tests in the morning." Leaving you with a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but you still didn't feel any better.

You went home to your parents' house. You'd moved back home after impulsively quitting your job since there was no way you'd be able to afford your old apartment anymore. Besides, this arrangement made the most sense.

Now you were able to save your money and focus on your salon. The salon Jungkook had inspired you to open, god you couldn't stop thinking about him. Something felt off.

"Y/n?" Your dad snaps his fingers in front of you, finally catching your attention. "Sorry- What?"

"Your mom and I were wondering if you'd be joining us for dinner or if you already ate." You shake your head slowly, "It's okay, I'm not hungry."

"Is everything okay?'' Your stretches her neck from where she sat on the couch. "I don't know. Jungkook's been acting off lately and I just don't know if everything is okay." Anyone who heard you could hear the worry that wavered in your tone. You wanted nothing more than for him to be okay.

"Oh, honey." Your parents hugged you and for a moment you felt like everything was going to be okay.

Until it wasn't.

-

It was around 2 in the morning when you'd gotten a call from Jungkook's mom.

He'd gone into a coma.

You didn't find yourself to be a religious person yet you found yourself praying to any god in the sky who was listening as you drove to the hospital that he would be okay.

Running through the halls, letting out careless apologies to those you nearly bumped into as you did so. "What happened?!" You say frantically, his mother was in no state to speak, her eyes were bloodshot and her lips quivered whenever she tried to speak.

Instead, his father took on the role to tell you, "The doctors said there were unforeseen complications from his accident. There was some inflammation in his brain that went undetected and was applying pressure to his brain stem which is why he was experiencing those headaches and fatigue. They've done all they can to reduce the swelling, but there's no guarantee he'll-"

His dad struggles to finish his sentence, choking up a bit himself at the possibility of Jungkook never waking up. "C-Can I see him?" You swallow back your tears and that sore feeling in your throat as you walk in slowly.

You didn't want to cry, but the moment you saw him hooked up to all those machines, the same ones he hated so much, the way his body lay so still, it broke you.

Your cries came out more as wails than anything else, you couldn't say anything but his name. You weren't just crying, you were begging, pleading with the gods to spare him.

"Y/n-" You hear his dad's voice behind you, catching you in his arms just as you fall to your knees. He could have never anticipated a reaction quite like this one. It seems he underestimated how much Jungkook meant to you.

Now he knows.

All his friends and family knew.

As they trickled in and out of Jungkook's hospital room over the following weeks they would see you sitting by his side, the same way you did all the days before.

His mom liked to say you were there more than Jungkook was. She knew he was lucky, he'd found something special with you. A kind of love that was rare to come across these days.

You spent every waking moment beside him until visiting hours were over, and would be back the next morning the moment they begin. Your parents told you to keep yourself busy with your salon and you tried, but how could you when everything inside reminded you of him?

Today was a quiet day, with no visitors or flowers for you to find space for as his room was filled. You focused on reading to him. You'd been told that hearing familiar voices can help to stimulate brain activity and you were willing to do anything.

"As Batman ran through the dark streets of Gotham-" You chuckled to yourself, unable to take the story seriously.

According to his parents, this was his favourite comic book growing up, and you'd been reading it to him for the last few days, and yet you still weren't interested in DC.

You rummaged through the bag of books you had on the side, your fingertips grasped the familiar cover that started it all. "The String of Fate" You mumble, a soft smile as the title takes you back to the night you met.

Back then he was nothing more than an opinionated patient on the loose, and now, he was everything.

You opened the book, going back to the page you'd bookmarked as a favourite. Deciding to read it out loud for the sake of Jungkook hearing your voice.

"In the garden of destiny, soulmates blossom, each petal a reflection of the other's beauty, each leaf a testament to their shared growth. Together, they tend to the soil of their dreams, nurturing them with the water of their love, as they chase the sunsets of tomorrow, hand in hand, forever intertwined."

Your voice began to shake halfway through, and your tears landed on every other word. You closed the book, placing it back in the bag so that you could take Jungkook's hands in yours.

"Please," You whispered, "I love you."

It was no surprise to anyone. You had nothing but love for the man who changed your world for the better. He had no idea how much space he takes up in your head, your heart. It's his, it belongs to him.

"Can we come in?" There are soft knocks on the door and you're pleasantly surprised to see Jin and your sister, assuming the baby was with your parents.

"Thank you for coming," You hug them both, "If there's someone important enough that you went MIA during my labour, then I have to meet him." Eunji says jokingly and you smile sadly, "I just wish you got to meet under better circumstances."

The days turned to night then day once again, and the pattern continued endlessly for the following month. It just continued to repeat in this painful process of dwindling hope.

Nothing could have prepared you for the devastating conversation with the doctor this morning.

"Please understand, during this difficult time, we have carefully monitored Jungkook's minimal brain activity. Given the duration of his coma and after our intensive examination of his condition, if there were indications for a potential recovery leading to him waking up, we would have observed signs by now. I know this news is incredibly challenging to hear but-"

His mother wept.

"We're so sorry." The doctor says as if it was rehearsed, you couldn't imagine how many times he'd had to give such gut-wrenching news to other families.

You listened with a broken heart, unable to cry. You were all out of tears. You'd cried and cried your heart out all month, you couldn't bear the thought of it all being for such a tragic conclusion.

-

That was almost a week ago, you'd remained by Jungkook's side regardless. Never leaving, not moving.

"Y/n, Honey. You've been here all day, when's the last time you ate something, hm?" His mom gently tilted your chin upwards, you looked pale in colour and your eyes were dull with sorrow.

"I don't know, Tuesday maybe?"

It's Thursday night.

"Go." She orders, and you know that tone. She wasn't willing to negotiate this with you. She'd begun to care for you like a daughter of her own, and as much as she respected and adored your dedication to her son, it was just as important that you were healthy.

Still following Jungkook's advice, you avoided most of the shops in the cafeteria except for a select few that he deemed sanitary. Sitting at one of the tables by yourself, you poked at your food, not all that hungry but you took bites anyway.

Taking a long sip from your water bottle you ignored the buzzing from your phone. You're sure it's just the contractors giving you a hard time again. You were set to open in a few months from now and you'd never felt more grateful for your mom stepping in to help while you were.. away.

Your phone buzzes once more, you finally check the messages.

Ever since that night, every time Mrs. Jeon messaged you, it left you with a pit in your stomach, quite like the one in your stomach right now.

She was calling you back to Jungkook's room immediately.

Completely abandoning your half-eaten meal on the table as you rushed back up to the room you'd begun to know like the back of your hand.

There his parents were, teary-eyed as they sat outside his room, making calls and texting loved ones. Soon you saw a team of nurses walking out of his room with some medical technology that you're sure had very complicated names and--

Oh no.

Your brain was putting the pieces together. What was once a pit had evolved into a full-fledged sinkhole. Your hands were shaking as you walked into the room, eyes landing on his body, not expecting to meet his familiar brown orbs.

They blinked at you slowly. Just like the first time you'd visited, they smiled before his lips did. "There she is," His voice was weak, understandably but it still had that softness to it.

Your body was overwhelmed and unable to make any coherent sounds. You were standing still as a statue. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to stop your lips from quivering but you couldn't stop it.

Your breathing became shallow and the sound of your heart drumming in your ears seemed much louder than it did a minute ago. You felt like your eyes were playing tricks on you.

"Is it-" Your voice airy and broken, not wanting this to be a dream. You so desperately needed this to be real. He nods slowly with a grin, "It's me." Just when you thought you had no more tears left, there were more spilling down your cheeks.

Finally picking up your feet and walking over to him with broken sobs, meeting him at the side of the bed. On your knees with his arms around you while you held him in yours. "I thought I lost you." You swat him with teary eyes and a small laugh.

"You can never lose me, Y/n, and I want to make sure of that." He says, and your head tilts instinctively. "What do you mean?"

"Marry me."

Eyes wide and your mouth nearly kissing the floor.

"You can't be serious," Oh how you hoped he was serious.

"You've been by my side every step of the way. When I walk through those hospital doors one last time, I want to be beside the woman I love. Let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me." Now he was the one getting misty eyes.

Your mouth struggled to keep up with the eager nodding of your head. "Yes." Holding his face in your hands and kissing him like you'd longed to do for weeks.

Finally.

"Wait- You don't have a ring," Jungkook leans slightly for the box of band-aids on the side table. "Jungkook, I don't need-'' Your efforts go in vain as he shushes you kindly, taping the band-aid around your ring finer.

"It's symbolic for now until I can get you the real thing."

-

Nothing could have prepared you for the busy year ahead of you. Between visiting Jungkook, opening a salon and planning a wedding things were beginning to get chaotic but it all seemed to fade in importance once Jungkook finally got to go home.

And you were right, he was home just in time for Thanksgiving, and he had a lot to be thankful for. He made that clear during his speech at your parents' annual Thanksgiving dinner.

The fact he was able to stand for it was reason enough. Although he wasn't able to walk far distances, he was improving every day, and it just warmed your heart.

Your speech wasn't nearly as tear-jerking as Jungkook's was, but you still had a lot to be grateful for. Just looking around the table from where you stood, smiling at your parents, your sister with Jin and Seol-a, Jungkook's parents, and Jungkook, of course.

Everything you ever wanted was right in front of you.

Keeping your speech short and sweet, "And I know she's grateful for that huge rock on her finger." Eunji whispers loudly causing the table to erupt in a fit of giggles, the tips of your ears turn red as you smile shyly.

From Thanksgiving to the opening day of your Salon. Staring up to look at your name written out in a cursive font across the top of the building you were in awe. "Pinch me," you mutter sarcastically, not expecting Jungkook to actually pinch you.

With a pout you rubbed the pink mark he left on your arm as the two of you walked into the moderately busy salon. Your mom had sent out flyers and emails about the opening day all season.

You wouldn't have been able to do it without her.

"I'm so proud of you," Jungkook whispers and you turn to face him with the look of a puppy. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," He shakes his head, "I didn't do anything. This was all you, all you had to do was listen to your heart." Giving him one of those upside-down smiles you wrap your arms around him, talking into his chest.

"I can't wait to marry you."

Before you knew it, the wait was over.

Today is the day. 

You could only stress about one day so much, you'd gone over every last detail down to the very inch and you were sure it was going to be perfect, after all, you'd had it all planned out in your head since you were 7 and Jungkook was more than happy oblige, 'as long as I get to marry you', he would say.

Your wedding was beautiful, it left your guests breathless the moment they entered the venue and the ceremony hadn't even begun yet.

Your wedding had its own special and heartfelt twist to it. Instead of Jungkook standing ready at the altar, he had the honour of picking a heartfelt song to walk down the aisle to with no arm crutches or wheelchair to support him. Nothing but his parents on either side holding one of his arms.

Some of the audience cheered while some let their tears fall quietly, knowing how far Jungkook had come to get to this point. Once he made it to the front, his best man, Jimin, handed him his arm crutches once again.

Soon the rest of the bridal party had made their way down the aisle, prompting the audience to stand. All heads turned to the grand double doors that soon opened as a romantic instrumental of "Look After You" began to play.

Jungkook could hardly see you from the distance he was standing but just knowing that you were walking towards him had him choking up already.

By the time he really could see you, he couldn't. His eyes are cloudy with tears until Jimin hands him his pocket square to wipe his eyes. Blinking the rest of his tears away, he smiles at you.

You looked beautiful.

Like God's most perfect creation sent down from heaven. There you were, smiling back at him with those angel eyes of yours. It would be a lie to say you didn't want to cry but the last thing you wanted was to ruin your makeup.

However, you weren't so strong when it came time to listen to Jungkook's vows after just finishing yours.

"You once asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I remember saying it was a load of crap. I had no idea they were sitting right in front of me. Your unconditional and unchanging demonstration of love has completely changed me from the inside out. Through you, I breathe again, and for you, my heart beats. Today, I give you more than just my word. I give you mind, I give you my soul, my everything. I pray from this day forward we will chase the sunsets of tomorrow, hand in hand, forever."

The last part he recites from the passage of your book you'd read to him while he was still unconscious. Your makeup is now a victim to the stream of hot, salty tears that flowed from your eyes, "You heard me." You say just loud enough for only him to hear you. He smiles. "I heard you."

With no more tears and the unravelling of a touching ceremony,

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

This was it. The moment Jungkook had been anticipating for months. Unclipping himself from the crutches around his arms, he hands them to Jimin.

He stretches out his arms dramatically, pretending to crack his neck.

Carefully taking your face in his hands, knowing how important it was to you that he didn't smudge anything, but your lipstick was going to need some reapplication after the way he pivoted and swooped you down for the most passionate of kisses.

The kind where your leg raises in the air while the photographer gets the money shot, capturing the bright smiles all around.

As if it was possible, the reception was even better than the ceremony. The toasts were both funny and touching. All eyes were on the happy couple who sat at their special table on the elevated platform for all to see.

Unable to hear what was being said but they could only assume it was something heartfelt based on the way your hands had clasped over your mouth.

Jungkook had just rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, showing you a new tattoo that you'd never seen. It was a delicate dark vine that wrapped around his forearm, with blossoming flowers, encircling the words 'Garden of Destiny', just like from your book.

"Are those-" You point to the types of flowers, "Tiger Lilies and Cosmos, your birth flower? Yeah." You pout, "Please don't cry, you'll be so upset if you ruin your makeup." He gently moves a loose strand of your hair from your face with the same hand you'd just been examining, and that's when it hits you.

"It's on your left arm." He grins,

"Of course it is."

𓆩♡𓆪This was only supposed to be 900 words. oops. 𓆩♡𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 mentions and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Happy “The Tortured Poets Department” release! I couldn’t help but shriek with joy when I heard But Daddy I Love Him. Literally, dad best friend Joel Miller coded. I would like to thank @wheresarizona for dealing with my spam in her messages from me as I was yapping about the new album and gushing over her writing; she’s literally one of the best writers ever. That is a fact and I will die on that hill.

This fic is heavily inspired by all of the dad's best friend books and dbf!Joel Miller fics I have read over the years. It is with great honor (and a lot of fucking fear) to present to you this Frankenstein of all of my fav tropes!

Heads up, I’m actually dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As you walk past the neighboring house, you observe the real estate agent meticulously placing the 'SOLD' banner onto the weathered for sale sign. A strange sense of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that someone has finally purchased the property.

Entering your home, you release a sigh of relief as the familiar comfort washes over you. With a casual toss, your keys and bag find their place on the hallway table. The urge to call out to your dad bubbles up, but it freezes in your throat when you're met with an unexpected sound drifting from his home office.

Your heart quickens as you peek inside, only to find your dad's best friend, Joel Miller, lounging on the plush brown lazy boy. His deep, resonant voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine even before you lay eyes on him.

Clutching the doorframe for support, you fight to steady your nerves. With trembling fingers, you manage to force a smile onto your lips, though it feels strained. "Hey, Dad. Hey… Joel," you manage to squeak, the mere sound of his name stirring a flurry of emotions within you.

The room feels stiflingly quiet as you wait for a response, the weight of Joel's gaze almost tangible. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as his intense eyes meet yours. His attention feels almost palpable, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends a rush of warmth through your body. With a low, almost imperceptible grunt of acknowledgment, Joel's gaze finally breaks away, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You try to avert your gaze out of sheer habit, but it's futile, like trying not to be drawn to the most captivating, exquisite sight in existence.

God, it's as if he's been carved from pure perfection, each time you lay eyes on him.

That same intense, brooding look he wore the day of your college graduation, late last year, still grips you. And it seems Joel's gaze has the same effect on your dad, eliciting a familiar reaction. With a quick double-take, your dad shoots a glance at his best friend before swiveling in his seat.

"Hey there, sweetheart, just catching up with Joel. He dropped by for a surprise visit," your dad starts, but he halts mid-sentence, noticing your undeniable reaction. Concern etches his features as he addresses you. "Honey?" he prompts, his voice laced with worry, as you struggle to find your voice for the umpteenth time in mere seconds.

Joel's gaze narrows, his jaw clenching as his intense scrutiny roams over you, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

As you cling to the doorframe, you can't help but notice the subtle movement of Joel's prominent Adam's apple, betraying his own unease.

Breaking the tension, your dad's nervous chuckle pierces the silence, attributing my apparent moodiness to your usual banter. He turns back to Joel, commenting on his friend's expression.

"What's going on with you two?" he quips, his tone shifting from light-hearted to serious in an instant. "Feels like there's some dirty secret between you," your dad adds, the jest evaporating from his voice. Yet, Joel remains unfazed by your dad's observation, his gaze still locked onto you as a faint smile curves his lips.

His lips curl into a smirk, accentuating the charming dimple that appears in his slightly scruffy beard whenever he smiles—a sight that never fails to tug at your heartstrings.

But as your dad's suspicion lingers in the air, Joel's demeanor shifts, yet you still struggle to connect the dots regarding why he's been giving you that look since graduation.

That day was meant to mark a pivotal moment in your life, celebrating the culmination of years of hard work in college. Yet, Joel's presence, the way he gazed at you, and the unexpected intensity of his hug during the congratulations... It's forever etched in your memory for reasons beyond the academic achievement.

And at the center of it all is one word: Joel.

He's a towering figure, a mix of solid muscle and the comforting softness of his belly. In the moment, you brushed off his tight embrace after receiving your diploma as merely the enthusiasm of the occasion.

But as you felt his whole body pressing right into yours during that hug, you knew it wasn’t your regular type of embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear. And though you didn’t catch his next words as clearly, you're certain he said something else that day. “…You feel so fuckin’ good….”

At least, that's what you've been convincing yourself he said. You recall gazing up into those big brown eyes, the same intense look he's giving you now, and wondering the same thing. How could an older, dangerously attractive man like Joel be even remotely interested in someone like you? Apart from being your dad’s best friend, he's more than twice your age and lives on the other side of the country with his daughter, Sarah.

You can almost picture the scandalized gasps of the single older women and ex-wives in your town, clutching their pearls and whispering, "What a mess," if you and Joel ever got together; if he was even remotely interested in you like that.

But you've replayed that scene in your mind every day since, and no matter how hard you try, there's just no denying your secret crush on him.

It all started long before college, your feelings for Joel simmering beneath the surface. Back then, you couldn't quite grasp what it was you felt for him. All you knew was that it felt right, and that feeling remains unchanged. Despite the nerves and shyness that being around him brings, there's another undeniable effect he has on you.

Like the overwhelming desire to sink back and beg him to indulge in things that his best friend's daughter probably shouldn't be fantasizing about. It's been a while since you last saw Joel, but he still exudes the same charm and looks even more handsome and fit than before, thanks to his job in construction as a contractor.

And when you receive that same look from him today, when your dad even jokes about his suspicions, you know Joel remembers that day too. The intensity in his eyes mirrors the moment he pulled you close, a memory etched as your most cherished moment so far.

"Well, I reckon’ my presence here might come as a bit of a surprise," Joel rasps, his gaze locked with yours as he emits a low chuckle for your dad's benefit. Unnoticed by your dad, Joel shoots you a sly wink, and you watch as your dad's tension melts away. He's relieved to know he wasn't imagining things, and undoubtedly thrilled once he hears Joel's news. "I'm moving here, right next door with Sarah. Tommy should be dropping her off here tomorrow," he announces with enthusiasm, but you feel the pit of your stomach drop.

Joel... here? For good? Oh, fuck.

Your dad erupts into loud whoops, raising both hands in the air. "It's about time, buddy! I knew you were keeping something from me," he adds, turning to you once again. "You were aware of this?" he asks, furrowing his brow with a hint of confusion. 

"You knew Joel and Sarah were coming to town, didn’t you?" Dad repeats, finally grinning like a child at the news. Smiling like a dad who's pushed aside any notion of his best friend showing interest in his only daughter. And you catch a sly grin on Joel’s face as he comes to your rescue. "Oh, I mentioned I might pay a visit. Buttercup here wasn't aware of the specifics or that Sarah and I would be relocatin’ back here," he explains to your dad.

But when Joel smoothly fibs to your dad, insinuating that you were aware of his impending move back to town, even though it caught you completely off guard, he seals an instant and secret pact between the two of you with a single glance. His deep brown eyes wink at you, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You realize you're in deeper trouble than you initially thought. And strangely enough, it's the kind of trouble you welcome with open arms.

In that fleeting moment, a silent understanding passes between you and Joel. With just a wink from him, your chest flutters with excitement, and a wave of anticipation rushes through you, leaving you feeling unexpectedly aroused at the prospect of having him nearby all the time. You're fully committed now, Joel's lie to his best friend serving as a shield for both of you, deflecting attention away from the undeniable tension between you.

"Sarah called last week," you fabricate, deciding to play along with Joel's deception. "As we were chatting, Joel mentioned something about visiting. It must've slipped my mind to mention it to you," you explain to your dad, hoping he'll buy into the white lie. Joel's low growl of contentment as he leans back, causing the leather chair to creak, reassures you that he approves of your little ruse.

Your dad's elation at the news of his best friend's return to their quaint little town is palpable, enough to overshadow any scolding he might have had for your omission about Sarah and Joel's supposed call.

But the truth remains: Sarah never called, and Joel's mysterious behavior is raising more questions than answers.

A surprise visit is one thing, but the intensity of Joel's gaze? The way he makes you feel? It's enough to give your long-standing crush on him a serious run for its money.

"But damn, Sarah will be here tomorrow?" your dad groans before chuckling. "A bit more notice would've been nice, but hell, it'll be good to see you, buddy."

"Listen, I've got something I can't postpone tomorrow. Maybe my daughter here could accompany you to pick up Sarah from the airport?" your dad suggests, turning his attention towards you.

Somewhere behind you, a strange sound escapes—it's you, emitting a sort of mewling noise that you know Joel catches, his smile widening in response.

"Sounds perfect," he agrees before you even have a chance to process it.

"Sweetie?" your dad asks, his tone sheepish now that he's volunteered you without asking if you were available.

You can only watch as the room seems to spin around you, nodding in agreement. "Yeah... sure, I don't have any tutoring sessions tomorrow."

"Perfect!" your dad sighs with relief, promising Joel they'll catch up later. "But I really need to get back to the shop. Are you alright here with her to help you settle into your new house with whatever you brought? The rest of your stuff hasn't arrived yet."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," Joel assures in his trademark baritone, locking eyes with you.

You were so fixated on Joel's presence that you hadn't noticed the bags by the side of the home office.

"Sweetie? You sure you're okay to help? You look kind of..." your dad starts, but you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before replying, "Yeah, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I can help."

"Alright then," your dad grabs his car keys, ready to leave the home office. He gives you both a final glance, kissing the top of your head. "I'll be back for dinner. Have fun, you two!"

You and Joel remain frozen in place, him on one side of the room and you by the doorway, both listening to your dad's fading footsteps and the rumble of his truck as he drives away.

You’re so fucked.

It's been six long months since you last saw each other, and for Joel, it's felt like an eternity. The day of your graduation marked the first time he laid eyes on you in over three years, and it was as if he was seeing you for the very first time.

You've grown into a remarkable adult, and Joel couldn't help but feel the overwhelming need to be there, not only for his buddy, your dad, but also for his sweet Buttercup. Witnessing his little girl all grown up and ready to embark on her journey into the world with her diploma was a moment he'll never forget. He'd never seen his best friend prouder, yet his gaze lingered on you for entirely different reasons.

Reasons and desires that had never crossed Joel's mind until that day. He couldn't resist pulling you close, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his.

What was he thinking? Surely, everyone could see the effect you had on him.

But Joel wasn't thinking, he was acting on instinct. He was claiming what he knew belonged to him. Telling you he was proud of you was one thing, but he's still unsure if you heard what else he said about how good you felt in his arms.

Yet, he doesn't regret it. Because it was true then, and it remains true now. He just wishes he knew if you felt the same way. If you felt it in the same way he did. But how could you possibly feel the same way about him as he has about you these past six months?

Joel couldn't deny that there were many reasons why the relationship between you was complicated. For one, there was the age difference - you were more than half his age. Apart from having the kind of body he could grip, suck and fuck for a lifetime, additionally, you were his best friend's daughter, a bond that ran deep and could not be ignored.

That day, Joel took a risk, blurring the lines and potentially jeopardizing not just his friendship with your dad, but also the bond he shared with you by being so affectionate.

Surprisingly, you didn't seem to mind his gestures, and Joel was convinced that your dad hadn't even noticed. Despite the undeniable attraction he felt towards you, a feeling that lingered and intensified with every thought of you, Joel couldn't shake the worry that his actions might have caused a rift.

As days turned into weeks without any word from your dad, Joel's mind raced with doubts. He couldn't help but question if you had confided in your father about his behavior. Perhaps your dad had sensed Joel's infatuation with you, leading to a silence that spoke volumes.

Intrusive thoughts plagued Joel, wondering if you had been uncomfortable with his displays of affection. The fear that you might have someone else in your life to hold onto gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious about the potential consequences of his actions.

Joel and your dad used to share conversations daily, a bond that time and life's demands have gradually weakened, particularly with Sarah still navigating middle school. They both acknowledge the need to reconnect more often, yet something always seems to intervene.

But Joel's decision to visit your father in person wasn't impulsive; it was a deliberate choice, driven by a desire to stay for good this time.

No more fleeting visits. This time, it's permanent.

And it's all because of you.

Since your graduation day, you've occupied Joel's thoughts relentlessly. It's more than just an obsession; you're the sole focus of his mind, consuming his every waking moment.

You are the only thing he can fucking think about.

Joel would never dare voice his thoughts to your dad, not just because of his feelings, but also because your father had a history of using his fists to settle matters. If he even suspected a fraction of what Joel's mind was consumed with regarding his daughter... Well, Joel would never be allowed in your home, with your dad likely ensuring Joel carried a permanent reminder of his displeasure.

Despite his reluctance to keep secrets from his lifelong friend, Joel's motivation to act stems from a burning need that is beyond his mere desire to reunite with you.

He doesn't just want to see you again; he craves it with a fervor that borders on desperation. And the only way to satisfy this yearning is to summon the courage to ask for more.

Reconnecting with your dad was pleasant, but the sight of you, standing in the doorway of the home office, unleashes a torrent of emotions within Joel. It's as though he's been trapped in a deep freeze for the past six months, and your mere presence ignites a firestorm within him.

Every curve of your silhouette, every strand of hair framing your face, fuels Joel's desire until it simmers beyond control, all for you.

As you watched him, his gaze never wavered from your presence, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was grateful for the chair that supported him, as he felt the insanely hard erection you gave him.

Your natural grace and beauty had left him breathless, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

All from just being yourself. All without you even trying to do anything. 

You really are just fucking perfect in every way.

You're now an adult, poised to embrace all the challenges and pleasures that adulthood entails. The mere thought sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you once more, evoking memories of his touch on that unforgettable graduation day.

The intoxicating blend of his woodsy cologne, the creak of his well-worn leather jacket, and the soft fabric of his grey tee shirt against your skin linger in your mind, igniting a longing for more.

The sensation that floods Joel as he lays eyes on you in person after so long defies description.

It takes all his willpower to resist the impulse to stride over and scoop you up, succumbing to the overwhelming desire to claim you as his own and to drag you into your bedroom. But he restrains himself, clinging to the last shreds of his resolve, waiting for any sign from you that you're ready for his embrace.

When your gaze meets his, he witnesses the hitch in your breath, and he can't help but murmur, "Come here, sweetheart." Your response is like a magnetic pull, drawing you into his strong, steadfast arms. As you melt into his embrace, he's struck by the sense of finally being home. You are his home now.

Joel inhales the sweet fragrance of your hair, longing to whisper countless sentiments into your perfect little ear nestled so close to his mouth.

But all he can muster, without risking scaring you away, is a simple declaration in his southern drawl, "I missed you, my little buttercup."

You bury your face into his checkered flannel, your words muffled against his shirt as you confess, "I missed you too, Joel."

Your body instinctively gravitates towards his, fueled by both necessity and reflex. The memory of his last embrace has haunted your thoughts for the past six months, and as his massive, comforting arms envelop you once more, it feels as though you're picking up right where you left off. He feels even better than you remembered, and the mingling scents of his cologne and freshly laundered clothes stir a desire within you to cling to him forever.

Reluctantly, he releases you from the hug, clearing his throat as you take a small step back, managing to squeak out, “Do you want a cup of coffee before you get settled in your new house? You look kinda tired.”

“Sure,” Joel nods, and you sense him hovering behind you as you descend the staircase and enter the kitchen. You can feel his eyes tracing your movements from behind.

You busy yourself preparing the coffee as Joel sets his things down, knowing it'll provide the perfect opportunity to sit down and have a proper conversation.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, his gaze remains fixed on your curves as you move around the kitchen. In that moment, he realizes there's no way he can stay in this house for more than an hour, without confessing his feelings to you.

“You got a boyfriend?”

The sudden question nearly causes you to spill hot water all over your hand, and you freeze, feeling a slight tremble coursing through you.

“Well?” Joel's deep voice sends shivers down your spine, as if you're caught in the midst of the most exhilarating earthquake imaginable. Your mouth hangs open, unsure of how to respond.

“Boyfriend or not?” he repeats, his tone commanding. “Not,” you answer instantly, not minding the question one bit, especially when you see its effect on Joel.

“Good. Perfect,” he rumbles in a low tone.

Turning back to the kitchen counter, the clinking of ceramic cups fills the room, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as the heat spreads throughout your body and to the tips of your ears.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask, turning your head just long enough to inquire.

The sight of your body shifting under your clothes already ignites fantasies in Joel's mind, imagining all the ways he could pleasure you, even right there on your dad's kitchen floor if you desired.

“Joel?” you prompt, breaking him out of his daydream.

“Uh… Sure. Cream and sugar,” he echoes, noticing your continued blush and slight trembling as you prepare the cups. As you approach him with the coffee, the sudden sound of your dad's voice startles you, causing you to drop one cup, which shatters on the floor.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face as he rushes to the sink to run cold water over the affected area.

"I'm fine, Dad. Really," you reply, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I thought you were gone," you add, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I just forgot something. I came back to get it," your father explains, his eyes darting nervously between you and Joel.

Your father's gaze is fixed on Joel, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Joel's obvious concern for you. Anyone could see the way Joel feels about you, and your father's disapproval is palpable.

But you're not a child anymore, and you're tired of your father's disapproval. "Dad, I'm fine. You just startled me, that's all. Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?" you ask, trying to keep the anger out of your voice.

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't come. He sighs and shakes his head, gathering the pieces of the broken cup and tossing them in the trash on his way out. The sound of his car speeding away speaks volumes.

"Maybe I should go," Joel suggests, but you wave off his concern.

"Don't worry about my dad. He's been weird ever since I graduated from college," you say, dismissing his concerns.

But Joel knows that your father's suspicions go back further than just this morning. He moves to help you clean up the mess on the floor, ignoring the broken glass and coffee spill. Gently, he takes your hand in his, wincing at the stinging and burn.

"Let's get this under some cold water," he says, leading you to the sink. You lean back against him as he guides your hand under the icy flow, your body yielding to his touch.

"Feel better?" he asks, his voice low and soothing. You nod, leaning into him as the cold water soothes your burn.

Joel's heart races as he holds you, feeling your warmth against him. He knows that your father doesn't approve of him, but he can't help how he feels. He's fallen for you, hard, and he's not going to let your father's disapproval get in the way.

"It feels better now," you whisper, your breath sending shivers down Joel's spine. He moves closer to you, feeling the pressure of your back against his aching cock.

"I can't help but notice how your body is responding to mine," Joel says, his voice low and husky.

"Should we start over?" he asks, leaning down so his mouth is close to your ear.

"You mean with the coffee?" you ask, playing coy. But your body is telling a different story.

"I mean starting over without your dad around," Joel clarifies, moving his hand to stroke the back of your neck.

You turn to face him, looking up into his deep brown eyes. "Just stay," you say, biting your lip.

Joel nods, his hands resting on your hips. "I'm not going anywhere, darlin'," he promises. "I'll be right next door, whenever you need me."

You stand there, close enough to kiss, but Joel holds back. He wants to savor this moment, to make it last.

"I meant what I said that day you graduated," Joel whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "You feel so fucking good."

His words send a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel his arousal pressing against your back, and he grips your hips, pulling you closer.

You plead with Joel to stay, not just because of how the morning has unfolded but because deep down, you need him by your side.

The words you long to say to Joel linger on the tip of your tongue, but the rush of emotions leaves you speechless. Your heart races as you grapple with the intensity of your feelings, unsure of how to express them.

As you run your hand under the cold water, trying to steady your nerves, you suggest preparing the spare room as a distraction. Anything to divert your thoughts and feelings that are swirling inside you.

The tension between you and Joel crackles in the air, the unspoken desire palpable. His longing mirrors your own, creating a charged atmosphere that leaves you both on edge.

"Is your hand goin' to be okay?" Joel's voice is laced with concern as he looks at you, and you nod in response.

"It's just a minor burn from the coffee," you murmur, trying to focus on the task.

"Shall I make us more coffee?" Joel offers, already cleaning up the mess on the floor. But your attention is drawn to the undeniable presence pressing against your back, sending a rush of sensations through you.

Your heart races as you realize the extent of Joel's desire, his arousal evident in every inch of his being.

"I'm not tired," Joel says, his voice low and intimate as he picks up the broken pieces of the mug.

"And I meant what I said earlier," he adds, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You should feel embarrassed, and remind him of boundaries, but the magnetic pull between you is undeniable.

"What did you mean?" you ask, a hint of defiance in your voice, craving his words like a drug.

His lips curl into a knowing smile as he repeats his earlier statement, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.

"You feel so good," Joel says, his words sending a surge of heat through you, your cheeks flushing with desire.

"Is that why you came back?" you inquire, emboldened by the charged atmosphere between you.

"What do you think?" Joel replies, closing the distance between you, the space crackling with unspoken promises and desires.

You feel trapped, torn between your desires and the weight of your past.

Your hands tremble as you press them against Joel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You slide your fingers down, curling around a button on his flannel shirt.

"My dad, for Sarah," you croak, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath your touch.

"I didn't come back to town just to see your dad," he says, his voice low and steady. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable either."

He pauses, taking another deep breath before he continues. "What I mean is, what I'm tryin’ to ask you, is could you have feelings for an older man? A man like me, maybe?"

His eyes bore into yours, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. You know what he's asking, and your heart races at the thought of giving in to your desires.

"I want to hear it from your lips," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "I like you a lot, Joel," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel pauses, his eyes never leaving yours. "But?" he prompts, giving you an out if you need it.

You look up at Joel, your eyes pleading with him to make the decision for you. But there's no hesitation in his gaze. He leans in, pressing his warm lips against your hand, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

"Does it feel like this?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the heat that's building inside you.

"Do you really want me, darlin'?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You moan, unable to contain your desire any longer.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I want you."

Joel growls, a low, primal sound that sends shivers down your spine. He presses your hand against his stiff erection, and you can feel the heat and hardness of him through his jeans.

You trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, forgetting all about the burn on your hand, the hot coffee, and even your dad and his house. All that matters is the feel of Joel's body against yours, the heat and hardness of him that you've longed for since graduation day.

"Then come here," he growls, leaning down further and taking your face in his palm. You shudder one last breath of uncertainty before the warmth of his mouth over yours means neither of you will ever have to ask that question again.

Joel's lips are soft and tender, but his kiss is urgent and demanding. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding to his touch with a hunger you've never felt before.

His hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years. You respond in kind, your hands tugging at his flannel shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

The heat between you builds, until you're both panting and gasping for breath. Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you dizzy with desire.

Joel can't help himself as he lifts you up and sets you down on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around him as he devours your mouth with his own. His hands roam your body, feeling the curves and contours of your figure as if for the first time.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangled in his hair as you deepen the kiss. Joel's touch sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself growing wet with desire.

Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you gasp with pleasure. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him as you feel his hardness against your thigh.

He makes you purr and moan, fulfilling every fantasy you've ever had. Your hands move down to his throbbing cock, gripping and squeezing him through his denim, but you both know this is just the beginning.

Joel has already crossed the line he set for himself, unable to resist the pull between you. He wants more than just a physical connection; he wants all of you, your heart, your soul, your everything.

He envisions a future with you, a life where you're by his side, where you're free to be yourself, to indulge in every desire and dream. He wants to give you a home, a place where you can be truly happy, where the two of you can explore each other endlessly.

As you catch your breath, Joel eases his hold on you, sensing the need for a moment of clarity. Your smile and the flush in your cheeks speak volumes, reassuring him that you're on the same page.

"Holy shit," you exclaim, breathless and exhilarated. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of him beneath your touch.

Joel exhales slowly, realizing he may have moved too quickly for you. "Too much, darlin'?" he asks with a chuckle, relieved when you giggle and nod in agreement.

But he sees the worry in your eyes, the need for understanding and space. You grip his flannel, pulling him close for a quick kiss, your words a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"I want this... I want you, Joel. I do," you confess, your voice filled with longing and hesitation.

"Just... not right now, not like this," you trail off, and Joel finishes your sentence, understanding the need for time and space to process everything.

He lifts you off the counter, noting how light you feel in his arms. He watches you pace the kitchen, a mix of emotions playing across your face. He settles on a stool, giving you the space you need to sort through your thoughts.

"I didn't think you were leading me on, and I didn't mean to be so forward," Joel says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time, process everythin’ darlin’.”

Joel's phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he knows it's your father. He takes a deep breath and answers the call, trying to sound casual. You've stopped pacing but still look dazed, as if you're trying to process what just happened between us.

"Hey, man," Joel greets, hearing your father's voice from his car, still on his way to the office.

"Joel, I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I guess I'm the one who needs a nap, but I can't afford the time right now," he says, sounding sincere.

Your father has always been honest and upfront, and Joel feels a mix of pride and guilt as he listens to his apology. He knows that your dad will be upset once he finds out about the two of you, but until then, Joel thinks it's best to keep your secret a little longer.

"You don't have to apologize, buddy," Joel says, trying to reassure him. "When do you finish work today?" he asks, already thinking about the time they have left alone together.

More time to take things slow? Joel isn't sure. He wants to savor every moment with you, but he also can't wait to explore every inch of your body.

As your father continues to talk, Joel watches you, his mind filled with thoughts of the two of you together. He knows that things will get complicated soon, but for now, he's happy to be in your presence, to feel your warmth and energy.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Joel says, ending the call and turning to you. "Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step closer to you.

You nod, still looking dazed, and Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He knows that the two of you have a lot to talk about, but for now, he's content to hold you, to feel your heart beating against his chest.

The future may be uncertain, but Joel knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this way about anyone before, and he's not about to let you go.

As Joel holds you close, your head resting on his chest, you finally voice the question that's been lingering between you.

"I guess we can't do this sort of thing around my Dad, huh?" you ask, your voice soft against his skin.

Joel strokes your hair gently, his heart full of emotions he never thought he'd feel again. He marvels at how easily and perfectly this moment has unfolded, how right it feels to have you in his arms.

"We probably shouldn't, not yet," Joel replies, his voice tinged with longing. He feels you nod in agreement, and he knows that keeping this secret will be a challenge.

Joel had left town to escape the past, to build a new future for himself and his daughter Sarah. But now, as he returns to the place where it all began, he realizes that his future is intertwined with yours.

He sees a future with you, a life filled with love and possibility. He dreams of a family with you, of building something lasting and meaningful together.

As he holds you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his, Joel knows that this is just the beginning. 

As you and Joel waste no time getting settled in the new house, the air crackles with anticipation. Joel turns the key in the door, and as you step inside, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of desire.

Without a word, you set down his bag, and Joel takes your hand, pulling you close. He lifts you effortlessly, spinning you around in a dizzying whirl of passion and need.

The lock clicks shut, sealing you both in a world of raw desire and longing. The house feels like a sanctuary, a place where only you and Joel exist, at least for the next hour or so.

"Aren't you gonna show me around first? I had no idea the inside was so nice," you giggle, your head spinning from the intensity of his touch and the day's events.

"I thought you might like to show me around... your sweet fuckin’ body," Joel rasps in your ear before claiming your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Each touch, each kiss, ignites a fire within you, driving you to the edge of reason.

"You tell me if it gets too much, alright darlin'?" Joel murmurs between kisses, his strong arms wrapped around you. You nod eagerly, your body craving his touch, his presence.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, you gravitate towards the nearest soft surface, a luxurious leather sofa in the living room. Joel stops in front of it, but you're consumed by the need for him, the hunger for his touch.

You try to nod, talk, and kiss him all at once, but the overwhelming desire he stirs in you leaves you breathless and unable to form coherent words. "Yeah... fuck... yes, I will," you pant, your body arching into his touch as he explores every inch of you.

Joel lowers you onto the couch, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that matches your own. He drops to his knees in front of you, parting your legs with a firm grip, his gaze locked on your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna eat your little pussy, make you come until you beg me to stop,” he says in a firm tone.

His hands move with purpose, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. You gasp and groan as he explores every inch of you, his fingers and tongue setting your body ablaze with pleasure.

As he delves deeper, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, you feel a wave of pleasure building within you, each touch pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

You writhe and moan under his touch, your body responding to his every move with a hunger that matches his own. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure, the air thick with desire and need.

His elbows prop your knees wide, and half-reclined on the worn leather, you can't help but feel a thrill at the sensations coursing through your body.

The scent of old leather and his cologne mingles with the musk of your arousal, creating a heady mix that only heightens your desire. You're ready for Joel, and you know it won't take long for him to bring you to the edge.

With a rough yank, he tears your panties aside, the sound of fabric rending adding to your arousal. You never knew you could feel this horny, and every moment with Joel only intensifies your desire.

He takes a moment to admire your slick folds, his thick fingers gently parting your lips. You grip his silver-flecked curls tighter as he moves down to taste you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with Joel's deep groans of pleasure. His tongue finds its mark, and you can't help but cry out, your body writhing under his touch.

Joel's mouth covers you completely, his tongue replacing his fingers as he explores every inch of your sex. You're on the brink of climax, your body trembling with need.

"Be patient, darlin'," Joel whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with desire. He grips your thighs, pushing them wider apart until his massive head is pressed between them.

You shift your grip to his broad shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Joel... Joel," you moan, trying to tell him how close you are, how much you want him. But all that comes out are animalistic sounds of pleasure.

Joel's body quakes with silent laughter, his voice deep and reassuring as he promises you can come all night. You trace the outline of his jaw, your body trembling with need as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

If heaven exists, you're sure you've found it in Joel's arms.

AN: I'm such a fool to think that this would be a one-shot... ya'll this is now a mini-series. Don't worry... this will be a two to three-chapter kinda series. 🤍

[midnight-els]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the West Wing would have been even better if they'd had a White House cat. Some headcanons bc I was thinking about it today:

Jed gave the cat a very grand, biblical name. Everyone else has shortened it to something very stupid.

Obviously all of the press and the public adore the cat. There's a minor upset in a polling themed episode when Joey confirms that once again the cat has higher approval ratings than the president. Josh is cross that they are polling on this at all.

There is one chair in the Oval Office that is The Cat's Chair. The staff know not to sit there as you'll get a. covered in fur and b. screamed at by an irate cat trying to force you off. They never warn any of their least favourite congresspeople about this.

The cat wanders around in the background of episodes, often being chased or petted by the extras.

The cat is not allowed in the situation room. The cat is always in the situation room. They had to come up with a special bug detecting protocol for the cat in case anyone tried to take advantage of this.

Ripped from the headlines plot about a congressional investigation into something related to the cat, based on the incident about Clinton's cat's postage.

The cat LOVES Air Force One. The Secret Service do not love having to get him on board or captured to get back off.

Leo and the cat are best friends. They're basically this meme. Leo's the grandma. Jed is the mom.

Aside from Leo, the cat loves the secretaries best. They always have lots of treats for him in their desks. Debbie is the only one he doesn't get on with; she has resorted to using a plant mister to spray him when he tries to get on her desk.

Josh thinks he and the cat are archenemies. The cat hasn't paid more than 2 seconds notice to Josh in his life.

CJ and the cat are archenemies. CJ was very pro-cat until she caught it fishing in Gail's bowl one day. Now she's at war to keep it out of her office. She's still trying to convince Danny to write a piece exposing the cat's dark side to its adoring public. Carol is very tired.

Sam wants so badly to be best friends with the cat. The cat thinks he's trying too hard. Will ends up exactly the same way.

Toby and the cat have never properly interacted and both are very happy to leave it that way.

The cat is supposed to stay in the residence during big events. Abbey stopped enforcing that after he got out and scratched Lord John Marbury when he picked him up against his will.

The cat has a secret service code name. One time, the code names are changed and an overenthusiatic reporter tries to break a story on the first lady's 'unusual activity' by following what he thinks is her code name. It's the cat's. CJ dines out on this for weeks.

The cat occasionally goes missing. The secretaries and Charlie have a recurring B-plot where they have to go and recover him. Somehow, the cat has always ended up somewhere relevant to the A-plot.

The cat properly goes missing after the incidents with the Thanksgiving turkeys and the goat in CJ's office (aka prime cat territory). Each time she claims she'll be nicer to the cat when it returns. Each time it lasts about two days.

Margaret thinks the cat has psychic powers and frequently provides warnings based on her interpretations of 'the signs'. Usually she's right.

The cat somehow makes off with the final edits for the state of the union one time (of course they were only handwritten on one piece of paper). Chaos ensues.

Jed tries to send the cat to Manchester partway through the series. After large-scale outcry from the staff, press and public he is returned to the White House. Unfortunately, after a couple of months as a barn cat he is even more badly behaved than before.

The cat is in both Jed and Abbey's official portraits.

[ohdeersthings]

Hear Me

Neteyam x Metkayina!F!Deaf!Reader

Summary: Neteyam thought you were the most beauitful thing in the world, yet you never seemed to respond to him.

Warning: Reader is Deaf!, Fluff, Angst (went you squint)

*not my best work, I've just had this in my head for the last few days and needed to get some form of it out*

When you had been born, the first child of Tonowari and Ronal, a great celebration had been held. They sang songs of what you would accomplish in the future, praised your name to Eywa for a blessing of a child. It didn't take long for your parents to notice you were, different.

You never reacted when someone approached or called your name. You never flinched from loud noises, only when something jumped out or you turned to suddenly see something you didn't know.

Your speech was different too, only able to make simple noises than actually talk. Able to communicate through the Clans Sign Language, but never completely with words.

Ronal prayed to Eywa for an answer, visiting the Spirit Tree to seek help. Only for a vision of silence to flash behind her eyes when she had made the connection to the tree.

You were deaf. Eywa blessed you with many things, beauty, grace, compassion and kindness.

But not the ability to hear.

Never able to hear the beautiful songs of the Tulkun, never to sing in tune with your brothers and sisters, yet you were an amazing dancer.

It took many months and years of everyday practice and routine for you and your clan to adjust to you. What you lacked in hearing, you made up in sight and touch.

You could feel the slightest change in area, quick to take others down with a elegance to it that had many young Na'vi boys swooning. You could feel the vibrations in the sand, the netting, the water. Able to change course and react before something happens.

When the day of the Sully's arrival had happened, you had been out on the Ilus with your sister, Tsireya. You lounged in the water, eyes closed as you felt the waves caress your body before shadows flashed your eyelids, eyes opening to see five Ikran's flying overhead to the main village.

Reya motioned for your attention, your eyes meeting her figure as she signed to you, 'We must hurry, they've signaled an arrival'

You nodded, connecting with your Ilu and both of you racing to the beach front. Exiting the water, you noticed six dark blue Na'vi standing there.

Reya seemed to have caught the attention of the second oldest son, his eyes quickly averting from her figure. You smiled, nudging her slightly as you made your way through the crowd that had gathered.

Many men and boys quickly moved aside for you, a smile in return you graced them.

Your brother Ao'nung had been pointing at them with a cocky smirk on his face, his friend Rotxo laughing along. Although, you could only tell he was laughing from the way his shoulders and diaphragm moved.

Feeling that it was something bad being said, you went between the both of them, slapping the sides of their arms as a warning. Reya had also slapped them, both boys quickly stopping their verbal assault.

You made eye contact with the oldest boy, a Na'vi around your age. His eyes were so bright, you could see the flecks of gold against the yellow. He made a gesture of hello, you smiling and slightly nodding your head in acknowledgement.

Your Father's sudden appearance beside you made you slightly jump, too caught up in the boy to notice the sand shifting beside you.

Meeting his face, his eyes read for you to back up so you did, your Mother soon making her way to the crowd aswell.

You could only watch as the exchange happened, the father of the other group seeming to plead with your own father. Ronal poked and prodded at the family, pulling the second sons hands into the air to show his five fingers.

Looking to Reya for help, she simply signed, 'They seek to stay, wanting refuge with us' causing you to become confused, your eyes narrowing toward the group. What could be happening that forest Na'vi come here of all places?

Seeing your father and mother start to dismiss them, you reached out for your fathers arm, his eyes snapping to you, your Mother also looking intently as you signed one thing.

'Help' and gestured to the family.

Your parents made eye contact, seeming to understand. They turned back to the other family, nodding and exchanging words before addressing the rest of the clan.

Your Father gestured to your siblings, his hand coming onto your shoulders as you assumed he introduced you. You smiled, slightly bowing your head in greeting.

Your brother of course didn't like whatever was being said, stepping forward to speak out but your father quickly shut him down.

'Show them the way' he told you, Reya grabbing your hand and leading the family away.

You glided next to your sister it seemed, your eyes casting out to the open blue water, the air gently touching your cheeks as the wind blew. Neteyam wondered about you.

You haven't said anything, yet you and your family communicated using, hands? It confused him, water Na'vi. Tsireya had explained to them how and when things would happen, she was the only one talking to them out of the pair of siblings.

Maybe you were just being nice? Nice hello gesture and that's it? You wouldn't talk to them, would look at them. We're you freaked out of their "Demon Blood"? Was being a different type of Na'vi really that off putting?

"Here we are, I hope its to your liking," Tsireya smiled, stopping at the new home of the Sullys, you accidently bumping into her as you hadn't been watching where you were going. You laughed silently, a hand on her back as an apology.

"Lessons begin this afternoon! I hope you all settle quickly," Tsireya bid goodbye, taking your hand and motioning for you to follow. You waved goodbye to the family and followed your younger sister, both of you a vision of beauty in the sunlight.

~.~

You had already been down in the water when you felt the splashes nearby, turning to see your siblings and Rotxo dive in, swimming over to you. You greeted them, looking past to see the Forest Na'vi trying to follow but kept going up to the surface.

The four of you were confused so you followed them up, motioning to them confused. They began to talk, but you waved your hands, unable to hear them.

Tsireya came up, asking for you aloud what was wrong and why they weren't just breathing.

The youngest sibling, a little girl, struggled to keep up so you took it upon yourself to help steady her in the water, the oldest boy watching you closely with Tuk.

Tuk began to thank you, your eyes meeting Rotxo who was closer, 'Tuk says thank you,' you smiled at the girl as Rotxo told her she was welcome. Tuk and Neteyam looked at eachother, both confused on why you wouldn't answer yourself.

Neteyam and Lo'ak had told them they didn't understand anything they were doing. "What is this...finger, hand motion thing you guys do? We have no clue, yet you always speak it, especially with her," Gesturing to you who was spinning Tuk in a circle in the water, the youngest one laughing in joy. You didn't acknowledge them, even though you were the center of the conversation now.

"Don't bring her into this," Ao'nung growled, teething baring. "I will teach you, as will (Y/n), believe me, you'll learn it quick with her," Tsireya assured, splashing water at you to gain attention.

You stopped, Tuk giggling as you turned to face them. Eyes dashing at each of the siblings, they all just stared making you nervous. Did you miss something important? Were you supposed to say something?

Ao'nung waved you off with a soft smile, making you return it. Your Father appeared on the shoreline, waving his hand to signal for you.

Letting out a yell in acknowledgement, you handed Tuk off to Neteyam. His eyes stayed trained on you as you swam off, your body cutting through the water like a sharp knife, but yet it didn't disturb the water. The water seemed to bend around your body.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Tsireya asked, smiling at Neteyam, "yeah," he trailed off before realizing what he just said outloud. "I mean, for a water Na'vi," he added quickly, Kiri rolling her eyes at her stupid brother.

'Morons, all of them,' she thought.

"So why doesn't she respond?" Lo'ak asked, his eyebrows contorting in confusion.

Ao'nung and Tsireya shared a look, Rotxo simply shaking his head.

"That is not our information to share, but please be patient with her," Tsireya pleaded, her big eyes making Lo'ak melt, "she is very bright and smart, but please, just be patient as you learn more about her,"

The Sully siblings looked at eachother before confirming with a nod to the water Na'vi.

~.~

Neteyam stared at you from a distance, you currently teaching some of the younger children how to dance. The way your hands moved, elegantly and flowing, like water. A smile on your face, eyes focusing on a child who grabbed your attention, their hands moving. You did it back, again, no verbal reply.

"Is there a reason you're staring at the Olo'eyktan's daughter?" His father gained Neteyam's attention back, his eyes wide. "I wasn't staring at her," Neteyam replied, looking back down at the fish they were currently gutting and cleaning for dinner.

"I mean I can see why, your age, beautiful, good with kids, anything else you wanna add?" Jake joked, Neteyam feeling his face get warm. "He hasn't said a word to her," Kiri chirped, Neteyam glaring with sharp eyes, his teeth bared in warning.

"Oh? Now you're telling me my oldest son can't talk to a girl?" Jake pressured, Neytiri sending him a look, a look to tread lightly.

"Its not that, it's that she never responds," Neteyam clarified, but he knew it really was because he was worried to talk to her.

"That's cause she's-" Neytiri slapped a hand over her mates mouth, her eyes basically shutting him up.

"She's to tell them, not you," Neytiri warned, Jake nodding, Neytiri releasing him.

~.~

At the clans dinner, many banged drums and danced to the beat. Chanting and singing drawled out into the night sky, footsteps marking in the sand by a large bonfire.

At the center of it was you, your head bobbing as you felt the vibrations through the sand, your feet and your spirit. Tsireya beside you as you guided her through the movements, her eyes suddenly catching the oldest son, turning you toward him and motioning for you to grab him.

You did just that, teething gleaming from a smile as you grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to come dance. "No thanks," he tried, but you just pulled him up and dragged him out to the sand.

"No, (Y/n), I don't dance!" He tried to explain but you just carried on, smiling and waving at him to join. He was soon grabbed by other Na'vi who had started a dance circle, hands and arms linked as they jumped and chanted. You laughed, a weird chortle but Neteyam could only grin back.

When the ceremonies had started to die down, you grabbed his hand and gestured him to follow, his eyes trying to find his family to see if they were watching him slip away.

"So where are we going?" He questioned, of course you didn't hear, you just kept running through the bushes, leading him somewhere special.

"Is there a reason you never respond?" He tried again, still nothing.

Finally having enough of a one way conversation, he grabbed your hand, stopping the movement going forward. You turned, face showing confusion.

"Where are we going?" He annunciated slowly, you waving your hands, pointing to your ears.

"What? If you're listening then reply," he urged, frustration growing. You hummed, trying again.

'I can't hear you,' you signed, but he only groaned, eyes rolling. "What are you saying," he growled, angry at himself and you. This was all so annoying.

You took his hands, placing them on your ears and pushing them down. "What you don't wanna listen? Don't wanna hear?" He raided an eyebrow, you looking at him with a quirked eyebrow, hinting at something.

He just shrugged, so you placed your hands on his ears, smashing them down. "Ow! Now I can't hear-" it dawned on him, mouth dropping open as his eyes stared into yours.

All this time you hadn't meant to ignore or be rude. You were oblivious or an airhead. You just couldn't hear. He grabbed your hands softly, bringing them off his head and holding them close to his chest as you both stared at each other.

'Understand?' You signed, Neteyam still struggling to figure out all the signs your clan had but nodded slowly, almost like he knew what you did say.

"You can't hear? Nothing?" You had learned to read lips a little over the years so you briefly nodded, Neteyam looking at you in a different light.

He'd always thought you were beautiful to begin with. Your smile alone could distract him, make him weak in the knees. The way you cared for your clan and his family even, made him feel warm inside. Of course, not many words were expressed between you two, but he couldn't help an attraction, a pull almost, towards you.

You could say the same. His strength that was displayed everyday was very invigorating, his protectiveness over his family made you feel safe as well. The way he seemed to go with the flow even if he didn't want to reminded you of water. The softness of his hands squeezing yours brought you out of your day dream.

He smiled at you, your eyes bright with warmth as he allowed you to continue the way you had been trying to go moments before.

Coming to a open pool of water, hundreds of jelly like fish swam. All glowing bright, iridescent colors.

Neteyam looked around in awe, turning to you in amazement as you let out a chortle, him finding it the most beautiful sound ever.

He watched the way your skin glowed in the light of the fish, your eyes reflecting both the light and the night sky. 'Beautiful' he signed, one thing he did remember from Tsireyas instruction earlier.

You felt your face grow warm, suddenly bashful under his gaze as you looked downward. Many boys had told you you were pretty, but hearing it from Neteyam, a boy from another clan. Someone who had just stayed learning your ways was different. It made you feel nervous, yet excited.

He reached his hand out, cupping your chin to make your eyes met again. "Don't hide from me," he grinned, you not hearing his words but felt the love behind them from his hand on your face that you leaned into as it moves up to your cheek, cradling you softly.

"I know you can't hear me," he let go of your face, his turning inward as he tried to remember everything Tsireya taught him earlier. "I see you, (Y/n)" he gestured, you suddenly beaming as you titled your head giddy like.

"I see you, Neteyam," you signed back, his arm coming around you to pull you in close. Maybe you couldn't hear his words, but you sure did feel them.

[darlingsblackbook]

Distant Echeos 3

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Arranged Marriage AU

Summary : The time of an old pact, promising your hand to the heir of the Gojo clan, has come. It is now your wedding, how will the two of you continue from here?

Wordcount : 1,3K

Warnings : Hurt, Angst, Angst and Angst. Sad y/n :'(

AN : This is part Three!

It had been almost a month since Gojo and I were married, but it felt as though the time had stretched into an eternity. The penthouse, which was supposed to be a shared home, now felt more like a gilded cage—too large, too empty, too quiet.

I had hoped, in the beginning, that things would get better. That with time, maybe Gojo would warm up to me, or at least acknowledge the effort I was putting into trying to make this situation work.

But as the days passed, my hope dwindled. Every time he came home—if you could even call it that—it was like watching a shadow pass through. He was there one moment, gone the next, always with the same distant expression, the same dismissive tone.

I barely existed in his world. And slowly, I felt myself fading because of it.

I had stopped preparing his lunches. He never ate them anyway, and the sight of another untouched bento sitting on the counter had become too painful to bear.

It wasn’t that I had expected him to suddenly fall in love with me, but I had at least thought he might care a little. A small acknowledgment, a quiet thank you that meant he saw me, even if only as his wife in name. But no.

He left in the morning, often before I woke up, and returned only when he needed something. Clothes, documents, a momentary break before heading back to his real life.

Not once did he ask how I was doing. Not once did he ask if I needed anything.

So, I stopped trying to reach out. It was easier that way. Less painful.

Instead, I retreated further into myself, finding solace in the small routines that gave my day structure. I kept the penthouse clean—spotless, even—though I knew he didn’t notice.

I went grocery shopping, even though half the food I bought went uneaten. I made simple meals for myself, always enough for two, but always alone at the table.

The silence became my companion, and I grew more comfortable with it. At least the silence didn’t hurt. At least the silence didn’t look right through me.

°•♡•°

One evening, about a week after I’d stopped making him lunches, I heard the door open. It was late—later than usual for him to stop by—but I didn’t bother looking up from where I sat, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me.

I had a book open in my lap, though I hadn’t really been reading. The words blurred together in front of me, my mind too numb to concentrate.

Gojo’s presence filled the room like it always did—vast, overwhelming, but somehow distant, as though he wasn’t really there at all.

I heard him move around, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the bedroom. I waited, hoping he might say something, anything, but the only sound was the rustle of fabric and the soft click of the closet door.

And then, without a word, he was gone again.

I didn’t move from my spot, but the familiar ache in my chest grew a little stronger, a little heavier.

What had I expected? For him to sit down and ask how my day had been? For him to actually notice me sitting there, waiting for some sign that I wasn’t invisible?

No. I had learned better by now. Hoping only led to disappointment.

With a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the book, forcing myself to focus on the words. They were dry, dull—nothing like the romance stories I had once enjoyed.

I used to dream of love, of passion, of a relationship filled with warmth and laughter. But now, even the idea of such things felt foreign. Unreal.

Love wasn’t for people like me. People who were married off for political reasons, who existed as pawns in a game they never asked to play.

I had told myself, over and over again, that I just needed to give it time. That things would get better. But now, after weeks of silence, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold onto that belief.

°•♡•°

The next day, Gojo didn’t come home at all.

I didn’t even realize until I woke up the following morning to an empty, undisturbed house. His clothes were still neatly folded in the closet, his things untouched. I wondered, for a brief moment, if something had happened—if he was hurt or in trouble. But then I remembered who I was married to. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer in the world. Nothing could touch him.

Nothing except, apparently, the thought of spending time here.

With me.

I went through the motions of the day mechanically—making breakfast, cleaning up, folding laundry—knowing none of it really mattered. I had once thought that keeping the house in order would make me feel like I had some kind of control, but now, even that felt hollow.

By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted, though not from any physical effort. It was the kind of tired that seeped into your bones, weighing down every step, every breath. I curled up on the couch again, the same book in my lap, though this time I didn’t even pretend to read.

The emptiness felt bigger tonight. Heavier. Like a tangible thing pressing down on me, reminding me just how alone I was.

I wondered if Gojo felt the same way. He always seemed so self-assured, so confident, but there had to be something under the surface, didn’t there? He couldn’t possibly be this detached all the time. Maybe he hated this marriage as much as I did. Maybe he was just avoiding me because he didn’t know what to say.

I tried to imagine what I would say to him if I had the courage. If I could speak my mind without fear of rejection or indifference.

“Do you hate me?” I whispered into the empty room, the words soft, barely audible even to myself.

But the silence, as always, gave no answer.

°•♡•°

A few more days passed, and Gojo’s absence became a constant. He came by once or twice, late at night, to grab things or change clothes, but he never stayed longer than a few minutes. He never asked about the house or how I was doing. He never asked if I was okay.

I was beginning to wonder if I had been foolish to think that things would ever change.

That night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. I felt small, insignificant, like a ghost haunting a place that wasn’t mine.

I had tried to make this house a home. I had tried to make myself a part of this new life. But every effort, every gesture, had been met with silence, with indifference. And now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left to give.

It wasn’t just the loneliness that hurt. It was the sense of failure. The feeling that no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough.

Not for Gojo.

Not for this marriage.

Not for the life I had been thrust into.

And so, little by little, I retreated further into myself. I stopped trying to reach out, stopped hoping for things to change. I spoke less, stayed in my room more, and let the days blend together in a fog of quiet isolation.

Maybe Gojo was waiting for me to give up. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To be left alone, free from the burden of a wife he never asked for.

Or maybe I was just fooling myself.

Either way, I was sinking deeper into a place I didn’t know how to climb out of. And the worst part was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to anymore.

♡

The world was on fire but no one can save me but you~ la la

All Rights Reserved © 2024 DarlingsBlackBook

[lunarw0rks]

*groveling on the floor* nice simon

pleeaase anything w big sweet man simon 😭🩵

ugh… you know what's been on my mind lately?? neighbor!au with all my favorite men - but especially simon! here are some of my thots;

he's so... awkward and off-putting. in the sweetest way. like a stray dog that's only allowed to bite you. neighbor!simon, who's the perfect coresident. rarely home, and if he is, you don't even notice! except for those awkward elevator rides...

obviously, simon being the most vehement introvert, does his best to avoid him. but it's a shady apartment building. things happen; maintenance or rowdy visitors blocking the stairway. so sometimes it's easier to suffer thirty seconds of agonizing silence.

there was you. across the hall from the strange, intimidating man. it's difficult not to be frightened, especially when his way of communicating is through grim eye contact, or god forbid a deep sigh when you accidentally bump into him.

neighbor!simon is never upset with you, though. grumpy is merely his default :( for many reasons. but he always feels awful when you give him that anxious look or go out of your way to make space for him in the narrow hall.

it's not every day he meets someone like you, quiet and respectful of his boundaries. let alone live next to. so... he began to make peace his own way. taking advantage of him always being up at dawn; salting the pavement by your patio to ensure your safe commute to work. cleaning up the stack of mail that the courier tossed at your box, tucking it in neatly.

aaaand eventually moves on to more outgoing gestures. knocking on your door, two little taps with his knuckle. asking if you heard "that noise" outside, purely to make sure you were alright. partially his overthinking getting the better of him, also a cheeky move on his part to see your face.

finds a way to learn more about you, even when you're at your most bashful. typically, when he's caught you in your nightclothes, all pampered and ready for bed. next to him, you feel ridiculous, as if he's not wearing the most basic athleisure.

sometimes neighbor!simon will lean against the entrance of the building, watching cars and listening to the city noise. but he isn't out there for fun. in his mind he's waiting on someone; you. when he hears the creak of the rickety door opening, his posture becomes even straighter than usual.

"bloody cold out here, isn't it?" his gruff voice murmurs, breath visible with every word. months ago, the presence would've startled you. but you'd grown used to his very predictable, unpredictable routine of running into you.

you sigh out your words, rubbing your icy fingers together. no gloves, he notices, but doesn't acknowledge. "why aren't you inside, simon? place is pretty cozy if you look past the water damage."

simon scoffs, "i like the cold," he places his hands into his pockets and reaches for the door handle. "y' workin' today, love?" he inquires, despite noticing your work bag slung over your shoulder.

you mutter an unenthusiastic 'yes', exhaustion evident in your features. it's too damn early for you to be out and about, struggling to make ends meet.

he hums to himself as he walks away, waiting until your figure disappears before crossing the street. he's on his way to the nearest shop.

that evening, when you return to your flat with dragging feet, there's no sign of neighbor!simon. out front, out back, or in the hall. only sign of life is the flickering lamp peaking under the gap of his front door. frankly, you're too exhausted to think about it much.

you raise your key to the lock, stepping forward when it gives way. something blocks your foot, nearly sending you tumbling forward. you peer down at the quaint gift box, nearly embarrassed at the tumble it gave you. proves that your post-work tunnel vision is no joke.

curiously, you examine it. no fancy wrapping paper, plain cardboard. and in place of the ribbon is some decorative twine, halfway decently tied into the shape of a bow. with a gentle tug, you release it and take off the lid. the aroma of cardboard is stronger now, as well as a spritz of a very familiar cologne.

gloves; knitted and coordinated to match your winter jacket. you smile to yourself, taking one last look at simon's door behind you, just as he shuts off the lamp for the night, the spotty yellow glow ceasing.

waiting on you to get home safe, no matter how late. of course, there's a price tag on them. he's not that showy, or crafty. anything he'd try to knit would end up a crumpled slab of yarn.

stepping inside your flat, you set your things down on the counter and run your finger over the soft, thick material. you can already picture the relief these will be on your walk, no longer clocking in with stiff, frozen fingers. new winterwear was on your list for months, but you're notoriously bad at gifting yourself nice — basic — things. and apparently, it shows.

the hollow box rattles when you set it down, as do your keys. finally, you slip them on, thinking of all the days you passed your neighbor simon. never knowing how observant he could be, in the sweetest way.

and they're a perfect fit, of course.

[charliemwrites]

Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:

(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)

I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.

Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.

Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.

Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.

Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.

Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.

Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.

Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.

They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.

(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)

He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.

At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.

And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.

It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.

(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)

Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.

(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)

And when he’s home…

The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.

And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.

It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.

She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 12! Truthfully this was rewritten on the 13th because what I posted last night was a hot mess. I realize that as much as I want to post these fics everyday, I want to post fics that I'm proud of. And I think this is enough redemption. Now let's see if I can get day 13 out today as well, haha.

Tags/Warnings: Face fucking, fem!receiving face fucking, oral sex, rough oral sex, throat fucking, male!receiving oral, p in v mention. Word Count: 1,446

Alastor had been antagonizing you for the last couple of months, insulting you or giving you a backhanded compliment whenever he could. What he enjoyed about you, was the fact that you responded back with an equally witty and scathing retort. You snapped back at him like you weren’t afraid of him. It was different, it was refreshing. You were intriguing. Alastor quickly began to seek you out, looking forward to your little game. 

The back and forth between you dissolved one night into something more; When far too many fingers of rye were involved. Not that you minded. You still sassed Alastor constantly, earning the same in return. Your relationship always felt tentative, like it could end in a matter of moments. So you held onto the stolen moments you had with Alastor. Wondering often, if he’d ever end whatever was between you both.

Tonight you were in his radio tower, listening to him broadcast. Something that not many were privileged to. Husk had told you once that he was certain you were the only one who Alastor allowed in while he broadcast. It felt nice to have that knowledge. That trust from Alastor. So, you enjoyed it. Quietly listening to Alastor as he broadcast about anything and everything. You never really paid any mind to what the topics were about, focusing on his captivating voice instead. 

Alastor’s voice surrounded you, captivated, and distracted you. You didn’t realize that the cup of coffee you were setting down wasn’t on the table, your attention solely on him. The cup crashed to the floor, shattering loudly. You stiffen, a cold fear running through you as your eyes snap from your shattered mug, up to Alastor. The radio feedback picking up around him is the only sign of his annoyance at the interruption as he continued on into his next statement. Slowly and quietly, you get up to go gather a towel and a dustpan. You were going to have to apologize profusely for the interruption, you knew.

You hadn’t noticed he had finished and was off air until he cleared his throat. Your eyes caught on his shoes first before trailing up his body. You met his gaze, holding it despite the fact that he was glowering down at you.

“I’m sorry, Alastor,” You say softly, sitting up on your knees, holding his gaze. “I didn’t mean to break the cup. To interrupt your broadcast.”

You were truly sorry for accidentally interrupting, knowing you had broken his trust in you. You had promised to sit quietly and not make a sound, only for that to come crashing down around you, like your mug had. Now you were wondering if the tentative relationship you had formed with Alastor would do the same and shatter.

“Hmm.” He hums, his expression softening, “It was an accident, my dear, don’t you worry your little head about it!”

You bite your lip, averting your gaze. You had learned to read him enough to tell he was still frustrated. How could you make this up to him? Was it even possible? Alastor tipped your chin up with one of his claws, making you meet his gaze again. Just like you could read him, he could read you.

“Though I suppose you could make up for this if you wanted to.” He prompts, smile widening. “Perhaps by allowing me to punish you.”

His thumb brushes your chin, the pad catching on your lip, you swallow, face flushing a deep shade of red at his insinuation. You couldn’t deny that the idea of him punishing you for interrupting his broadcast was arousing. 

“Well I’m on my knees.” You offer, feeling heat begin to pool in your gut.

“Yes, you are.” he acknowledges, “And you’ve been quite the bad girl tonight, haven’t you? Disrespecting me earlier in front of our guests, and now you’ve interrupted my broadcast.”

Alastor takes a step towards you, reaching  to undo his pants. Your eyes follow the movement, captivated.

“I think you are overdue for a lesson, my dear. Open.”

You swallow down your nerves but you open your mouth. He pulls his hardening cock out of his pants, running the tip around your lips.

His voice was lower, dangerous, “Show me how sorry you are, little doe.”

You lean forward, kitten licking at his slit, closing your hand around his cock. Your tongue swirls around his cock-head before you close your mouth around him. Alastor grunts at the contact, rolling his hips forward, forcing more of himself into your mouth.

“You can do better than that, darling.” He taunts, watching you take him further with each pass of your lips.

You hum around him, rolling your eyes as you suck his cock. You move your tongue to caress the underside of his cock as you bob your head. Alastor’s hand tangles in your hair as he watches you suck him off from half-lidded eyelids. He begins to roll his hips forward, forcing more and more of his cock into your mouth with each thrust.

“Do not forget that this is also a punishment, my dear. You only touch me because I have permitted it to happen. I can take this away from you in an instant.”

You whine around Alastor’s cock, which quickly turns into you gagging as his cock-head hits the back of your throat. He pulls back, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment before sliding right back into your mouth. His pace is steady as he begins to fuck your mouth. You swallow around him, tears biting the corners of your eyes as he forces you to take him down your throat, over and over. His pace grew faster, his breaths coming in short gasps.

“You look so beautiful, darling. Taking my cock so well.” He praises, his hand tightening in your hair.

Alastor began to move your face in time with his thrusts. You brace yourself against his thighs, moaning around him. You were enjoying the thrill of him fucking your face. Every thrust in, choked you, every withdrawal gave you the opportunity to breathe. It was sinful how wet you were, not even having been touched once.

“You will never interrupt my broadcast again, understood, my dear?”

You can only moan around Alastor as his pace increases. His thrusts were growing shorter and faster as he got closer to his own release.

“And if you ever dare disrespect me like you did earlier I will ensure everyone in this wretched hotel hears your screams.”

You moaned around his cock again, earning another groan from him. Alastor’s hips stuttering was your only tell that he was getting close to cumming.

“You’re going to be a good girl and swallow every drop of my cum. Or I will extend your punishment. Is that clear?”

You closed your lips around his cock tighter, sucking hard as you tried to coax him over the edge. A stuttered curse fell from his mouth, radio effect totally gone. He thrust forward harshly as he pushed your head down onto his cock. You swallowed uncomfortably as the first rope of his cum hit the back of your throat. You felt the need to cough, but you refused to waste a single drop of his seed. Alastor rocked his hips as he began to pull out of your mouth, his cock twitching with the aftershocks of his release. You force a breath in through your nose as you suck and swallow around his retreating cock. When you were certain he was totally spent you let him slide from your mouth with a wet ‘pop.’ You swallowed again, before your body caught up to you and you began to cough harshly. Your lungs burned in protest as you took in heaving gasps of breath air in between each cough. After what felt like forever, but was actually just a few moments, you catch your breath fully.

Alastor pulled you from the ground, slamming his lips roughly against yours in a searing kiss, stealing your breath once more. He could taste himself on your lips, his cock hardening again.

“Now,” He remarks, pushing your skirt up, and pulling your panties off, “I believe after such a grand performance, you deserve a reward.”

He wraps one of your legs around him, thrusting fully into you with one thrust. 

You pull Alastor down into another kiss, “I am sorry, Al.”

“Water under the bridge, my darling.” He reassures you, returning a gentle kiss to your lips.

You would never interrupt a broadcast again, that was for certain. And though you were sorry, you couldn’t fully be remorseful when your behavior ended with him inside you.

[degreedummy]

Looking at Lukola's Synastry and Current Transits-

Venus transiting N’s 3H, L’s 7H In [a week], Venus opposes N’s Mars, L’s Venus-

1. To start off, this is a transit that signals appreciation, going out of their way to give each other credit for how hardworking they each are. On N’s side, I think we see someone who is feeling a bit lost, trying to find a way to [Venus-Mars] shift peoples’ focus, and this more shows her needing that emotional support, being reminded that her work is valuable and meaningful to people.  

On L’s side, I think we see a [friend] reaching out, someone who knows N enough to know when she isn’t acting like herself. I don’t think this transit will be too emotional, but I think it’ll show the way… two people are able to ground each other. The opposition to N’s Mars takes place before the opposition to L’s Venus, so it’ll be more like someone softly coming in behind the storm to help clean up the mess. I wouldn’t take it as a sign of how deep his feelings are, but that he still cares.

2. After these oppositions, Venus will be transiting L’s 4H, N’s 8H. In Libra, I think this influence simply shows the way how… in September, they will be in a position of relying on each other again, reconnecting and sharing themselves. I wouldn’t take this transit as anything too significant, but as an acknowledgment of a known pattern in their lives. The 4H represents ‘where we feel at home’, the 8H represents ‘who we trust the most’, so I think this shows them being happy to be back together.

3. In L’s 4H, this will mean that Venus passes her retrograde Jupiter, square N’s Sun and Mercury, and I think there’s two big options here: 1) L speaks out for N, saying she isn't open to conversation 2) they make an agreement not to talk at all about what goes between them.

I think Venus is granting them the privacy they’ve been wanting for so long, not really creating the chance for ‘secret love’, but giving them the chance to show love without outsiders trying to make it more than what it is. Just based of Venus’ transits, I think things are still moving slow, but more importantly, it shows how their relationship has remained unaffected by outside factors. The trust they have can’t be broken by anyone outside of them.

Mercury retrograde in L’s 2H, N’s 7H Goes direct while in conjunction to L’s Chiron [3 days~] Enters an inconjunction with N’s Neptune [one week]

On L’s side, I think for weeks we’ve been seeing him slowly release insecurity, not being too loud, but standing strong in everything he does. I think this was a reflective period for him more than anything, only frustrated by people misunderstanding him. Going direct, I think Mercury is going to put that newfound confidence to action, and connecting themes to his real life, I think we’ll see this through his performance in the next season. I think he’ll go into it feeling beautiful, free of comparing himself to anyone.

In a [month and a half], [mid-October], Venus will enter L’s 10H, N’s 5H, and I think this could be represented in them celebrating some kind of achievement together, or award. It’s more ‘recognition of someone’s work, acknowledging their legacy’.

This will also take place after L’s exact Mars return, so I think… this will be his true chance to break away from his past. I don’t want to promise anything or anyone specific of course, but I think facing his past, being credited for his work, working toward more for the future, and having people show support will allow him to feel like he can take the [next step], whatever he feels that may be for him. I don’t know how this would conflict with filming, but this is a time for individuality.

On N’s side, this slowly developing inconjunction to her Neptune shows me someone who is trying to lock down, [isolate], [6/11H] cutting herself off from social circles to protect her work life, which I think is also natural for [show filming].

More than that, I think this Mercury inconjunction is a time to be wary about anyone who claims to be speaking for her, claiming to know how she thinks or feels, or people claiming to know personal information about her. If anything comes up, I think it’ll be obvious that this person has no connection to her, based on how inaccurate they are from the beginning, but I think this does show someone trying to take advantage of her attempts to lock down and stay quiet.

In [two months], [October], Mercury will eventually enter a trine with N’s 1H Jupiter,  which (I believe) agrees with what I said before in her natal transits, with how she’s planning to reach out to her fans more.

With this continued theme, I think it’s important for her fans to consider… how much space a person needs to feel safe talking in front of people. If everything she says gets swept up, flipped and turned against her by the end of the day, what reason does she have to come back or try to open up again? I think it’s just a time to consider… if we can contribute in some way, it would be by enforcing that people respect and listen to what she says.

If she doesn’t want to share her life in some way, she won’t. Not because she’s hiding anything, but because communicating with her audience demands different boundaries, especially as her fame rises and she’s introduced to new audiences.

In all, I think these next few months are about friends rekindling a love for each other, showing that nothing can break them apart. I know we hope for signs of a relationship, but I think this affirms what we've always said about things moving slowly, showing stability. I still take these transits as a good sign, them finding some kind of privacy and peace, but I think it is on us to maintain that distance, respecting their need for it. I think there are conversations they keep between them, and this is the time they'll be explored.

[aalghul]

Another thing that annoys me about “Cass, Steph and Damian died too” as a response to Jason just existing (besides that Jason doesn’t bring up his death to use against others nearly as much as people think he does), is that “they got over it, why can’t you?” and belittling him for not being a “perfect victim” is all in such bad taste, for obvious reasons. Then there’s the fact that none of those deaths are the same as Jason’s so the comparison doesn’t work even if we decided to judge characters on how well they fit the mold of a victim that doesn’t make a fuss.

Cass’ death is her being freed from her death wish. She’s not expecting revenge because she signed up for it. I don’t even know what to say about that because it’s all pretty clearly stated in the text.

Steph’s death was retconned into not being an actual Death death, first of all. Otherwise, we see her struggling to piece together her relationships in the aftermath of her return. Also, her death can’t be acknowledged too much because Bruce has been repeatedly absolved of all blame (that being pushed off to Leslie instead, originally) and speaking about how Bruce failed her isn’t something she’s allowed to do as a character who has to stay entirely on one side of the fight (because most characters don’t get to question Batman or believe he failed them, not without being framed as something less than morally sound). Jason gets to openly criticize Bruce but at the cost of never being one of the Bats like Steph is, and the inverse is true for Steph (irt pre-flashpoint).

Damian’s big death should be ignored because there’s literally not a way to have that storyline happen without being racist. We understand this, yes? And the rest don’t last longer than an issue. Let’s not pretend it’s comparable with Jason being dead and buried for over a decade in real time, actually dead and buried for 6 months in-universe, and believed dead for 3 years in-universe.