#can you really blame him for not wanting to acknowledge them?

[mustyrosewater]

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐊𝐘 - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖝

𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,329

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: an old phrase, hair holds energy; obviously effective enough to warrant a trip to the salon for a change that reflects the person you’re starting to morph into, even if you yourself aren’t even entirely sure who that is, or whether change is actually what you need right now. 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: therapy, mentions of relapse, haircuts, a date??

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hello my loves! i know this one was a little bit longer of a wait, just had a little bit of writers block, but I hope you love love love this chapter, some new minor characters getting introduced for yall to fall in love with so I hope you enjoy! thank you all for reading! <3

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“And why is it that you think you’re completely at fault for what happened?”

The bi weekly zoom call with your therapist was going just as steady as it always had been, the standard catch up’s in regards to how you’ve been feeling physically, making sure you’d been practising the mindfulness techniques that she employed in order to better manage your anxiety.

Unfortunately it had only been a letter of time before you were forced to tell her about what had happened.

Sitting there picking at the sleeve of your shirt, you had your laptop propped onto your desk and a knee pulled up to your chin as you let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know it's just.. i should have just said no..” you breathed, resting your chin on your knee as you looked at the little trinkets on your desk all to distract yourself from looking across at the screen where you’d no doubt see your therapist jotting down notes.

She was great at what she did of course, always being a huge help, especially when you were still actively in rehab, having grown to know you quite well by now. 

“Okay, and you don’t feel like those girls were in any way responsible? even though they knowingly pushed drinks onto somebody that they knew was in recovery?” 

Her words had you initially opening your mouth to speak, only for you to close it just as quickly, leaning your head forward to massage your temple.

You always hated it when she had a point.

“Well, i mean, of course. But it’s not like part of it wasn’t on me, this is what i’m striving for, to be able to just function again.” you spoke, shrugging your shoulders and moving your hands as you spoke, watching as your therapist nodded.

“That’s exactly what i’m saying though, honey. You can acknowledge that there’s some fault on your end, but you always need to realise that you are in no way responsible for other people’s actions.” she explained, putting her notepad down for a moment to emphasise her point. “What they did was wrong, and they knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, so placing the blame on yourself entirely is unreasonable.”

Nodding your head, you let out a huff in hesitant agreement. 

“I guess so.” 

Leaning forward in her chair, your therapist continued.

“I want to really work on the inner dialogue with yourself, starting today, i want you to start writing down things about yourself that you like, things that you did that you perceive as a good thing, and when you start finding yourself feeling guilty or shameful, take it out and read it.”

It felt stupid really, but as much as you disliked some of the exercises she made you do, you couldn’t deny that every single one of them had worked so far.

“And this, Rhett, that you mentioned.” 

Even at the mere sound of his name, your ears perked like an afghan hound, your head popping back up to look directly at your screen for the first time during the entire session.

“He took you back to his apartment after this? he was the one who found you.” 

You nodded at her inquiry with a visible tension, anything to do with Rhett was the last thing you’d wanted to bring up, having not spoken to him in almost three days since you’d woken up practically clinging to him in his bed.

“Did anything happen?” 

Furrowing your brows at her question, you tilted your head.

“What, you mean like, did we have sex?” you asked, recieving a nod from her.

You shook your head furiously, holding up your hands as you let out a sound of disapproval.

“No, god no.” you spoke, “we slept in his bed, but we didn’t do anything.”

Explaining it felt like sharing some shameful secret, as if two consenting adults sharing a bed was against the law, but after pushing so hard against him, hating him so harshly and then making an immediate jump to sleeping in his arms, you just felt like a hypocrite.

“And does he mean anything to you?” 

Her question had you once again opening your mouth, preparing yourself to insist that he didn’t mean anything to you at all, but as you did, you found it shutting once more for a moment before you answered.

“I don’t know.” 

-

The weather was unforgiving on this particular day, a horrible day for your father to be out in the barn tinkering with his truck, but it seemed to be his favourite thing to do with his free time, so occasionally reminding him to stay hydrated by bringing him a cold drink every now and then seemed the best thing for it.

Your session with your therapist had left you more rattled than you expected, airing out things you hadn’t even been aware of yourself, so it felt important to keep yourself fairly relaxed and anxiety-free for the day.

Inside the house, you had one of your guided meditation tracks going as you sat on your bed, keeping your eyes shut with your headphones on. 

The promise of relaxation was always beautiful in theory, but in practice it was almost never fully realised, especially when your track was interrupted by the sound of a text message coming through. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you opened up the text message, not entirely sure what you were expecting at first, but sudden realisation hit you like a tonne of bricks when you saw a text message from Niki of all people.

God, it’d been nearly a week and a half since you last spoke to him, having done an accidentally shitty thing and not texted him at all since your shared meal at the rodeo.

If he was annoyed about it, he certainly didn’t show it, texting you as if it was any other time.

‘hey pendeja, what you been up to?’

The reminder of Niki and his presence in your life had brought an unfamiliar sense of anxiety in your stomach; even if you were establishing some form of a flirty back and forth, something about it felt wrong all of a sudden.

It took you all of an hour to actually text him back, procrastinating and avoiding it by taking a shower and making something to eat for lunch, but eventually you knew you had to respond, doing so as you were sitting out on the front porch with your hair in a towel.

The way there was so much dread involved purely in sending a text message felt like it made no sense, but you were almost finding yourself hoping he didn’t reply at all.

‘trying to force myself to eat and sleep, you know, the usual.’

At least that part wasn’t a lie, that’s exactly what it had been like since the incident at the bar, it felt like being stuck in a weird limbo where you didn’t know what to do, doing everything as if you were on some weird auto pilot.

Whether it was the guilt eating you up, or the sudden tidal wave of confusing feelings, you weren’t sure, it could easily be both.

Just as he hadn’t seemed to try to contact you any further since the bar, Rhett obviously hadn’t told anybody about what happened, he and Perry were the only ones that knew that at least had a direct line to your father. 

If Rhett wanted to snitch, he hadn’t done so.

Montana hadn’t done anything other than post a tagged photo on her instagram, flooded with the uncomfortable selfies she’d made you take with her friends.

Clearly her motivations for even inviting you out at all were now coming to light.

Removing yourself from the tag was all you could do, but some of the damage was already partly done. 

All you could do was hope and pray that no news outlet was able to discover the photos, run some stupid exposé about how you were back to your old ways. 

Just as you were sitting there chewing on your lip and staring out into the driveway that was now bathed in an orange glow of the sun beginning to set, your phone vibrated once more.

Another response from Niki, just as you’d expected.

‘same here, lol. i just wanted to see if maybe you were free on friday night?’ 

The text made dread fill your stomach as you read it, but you just had no idea why.

Of course you were attracted to Niki, that much was obvious, he was a total catch, why wouldn’t you be?

The feeling of guilt without a recognisable source was overwhelming, no idea why the idea of pursuing Niki suddenly felt like a lost cause.

As much as it was a rude thing to do, you left his text message on read, something that you’d always hated when it was done to you, especially when it had been by your ex not messaging you back when you’d ask what he was doing with his many late nights, especially after you realised what he was really doing during those late nights of overtime.

Putting your phone down, you dragged your hands across your face and let out a deep sigh, groaning in some attempt to verbally let out the stress.

Considering that you’d taken this entire trip back to Wyoming in the first place to get rid of your stress, you were so far doing a horrible job.

-

Travelling with your father into town the next morning was a good option to get out of the house, especially considering that you were well overdue for a haircut, your roots had grown out and your ends were split, the job that your hairstylist back in LA had done was only going to blend for so long.

Putting the truck in park, your father reached around to the back seat to ruffle through his things, turning his head back to you.

“You just gonna go to the salon and make your own way home?” he double checked the plan you’d given him, ensuring he understood what you wanted to do.

Nodding your head as you unbuckled your belt, you opened the car door and stepped out in unison with your father.

“Yeah, just might take awhile at the salon, i don’t wanna keep you waiting.” you explained, your father giving you a look of initial hesitation which was fine before you’d even taken the time to spot it.

“Alright well, just call me if you get stuck.” 

“I’ll be fine daddy, i’ll be able to get bus or an uber or something, i’ll see you later tonight.” you spoke as you walked around and gave him a quick hug, only for him to ruffle your hair as you stepped away, swatting away his hands.

“Hopefully with a nicer head of hair.” he joked, only for you to roll your eyes.

“Love you.” you sighed, turning to walk away and head in the direction that you knew the salon was at, having passed it a few times while driving through town.

With the time being around 4:30, there was only two stylists inside when you swung the door open, one of which was currently in the process of a blowout, the other was currently at the receptionist counter looking bored out of her mind.

Her hair was a hue of cherry red, styled into victory rolls with the rest of her hair falling free, tattooed arms and pencil skirt, looking like she’d fallen right out of a rockabilly magazine. 

When the bell rung as you stepped in, her eyes lifted from the computer and she smiled brightly at you. 

“Welcome in, darlin’.” 

Her southern drawl was comforting, in a way that was motherly, sort of like Dolly Parton.

She must have been in her late 40s or so, a few lines on her face that portrayed her age, with beautifully executed winged liner and red lipstick.

Honestly she was gorgeous.

“Hey.. I don’t know if you guys take walk in’s..?” 

At the mention of walk in’s, she made a relieved face and walked around the counter, immediately taking your shoulder and guiding you towards one of the many chairs with a mirror set on the wall in front of it.

“I’m so glad you came in, I was about ready to put myself outta my misery.” she gushed, gesturing with her thumb to the hair stylist conducting a blow out with her thumb.

“I can only hear about his hookups so many times.” she joked, only for a male hairstylist to turn off the blow dryer and give her a look, his hand coming to his hip.

“What was that bitch?” he snapped, but you could see the smile on his face which was immediately shared by the red head, playfully flipping him off with her gel manicured nails.

“Nothing, just telling her how much of a slut you are.” 

Already, the casual vibe of the salon had you immediately at ease, in comparison to the whisper and gossip shared between the stylists back in LA, this was already a harsh improvement.

As soon as the red head stylist began to run her fingers through your hair, you could have shut your eyes and let out a moan, the feeling of her nails running over your scalp felt like heaven.

“What are we thinking today?” she enquired, looking at you through the mirror with a soft smile that made you feel an immediate sense of safety.

“I think i just want my roots touched up, i’ve let them go for way too long, maybe just a few layers? got a lot of old energy to let go of..” you joked, only for her to nod her head in understanding.

“I hear that.” the male stylist piped up, which had you turning your head and laughing softly.

“Of course, honey, we can do that.” she nodded, stepped back over to the counter for a moment before turning to you. “You want anything to drink, water? coffee?”

Shaking your head, you let her walk back over and out the cape around your neck.

“You don’t look familiar, are you new in town?” she spoke as she began to brush out your hair slowly, taking care not to tug on the knots too harshly as she did.

Letting out a breathy chuckle, you shrugged.

“I suppose so, i was born here, but i haven’t been back in almost five years.” you explained, “a lots changed since i’ve been here, so it feels like a whole new place anyway.”

“Well, even if we’ve only just met, it’s good to have you back, darlin.” she joked, sharing a mutual laugh with you as she patted your shoulder and stepped away to start mixing up some colour.

As the other stylist finished with his client and settled it out at the till, he stopped as he was walking back over to his station and paused behind you, looking at you in the mirror with furrowed brows.

Holding up his hand to point a finger, he pursed his lips for a moment.

“Wait a damn minute..” he said softly, turning back to the counter for a moment and grabbing a magazine which he seemed to look back and forth between it and you.

A shy smile came to your face as you realised exactly what was happening, watching as shock over took his own face.

“Oh my god, i knew i recognised you!” he announced with glee, sauntering over to you and putting a hand on his chest as he rested his other on the back of your chair.

While normally you would be trying to shy away, the relative ease that you were already feeling with these stylists just had you laughing and holding your hand up to get him to calm down.

“I only just watched a re run of your performance at the BET awards last week, that song you wrote, you know the one-“ 

He stopped for a moment to do a little dance and sing the lyrics of one of the last most recent songs you’d released just under 5 months ago, causing you to laugh as he sang it to himself.

“Girl, it changed my life, when you released that single with Doja Cat i about fell outta my chair.” 

He leaned forward to give you a quick hug, which you returned with a hand on his arm as you laughed.

He also seemed to be about in his 40s, a few purposefully placed grey streaks in his dark hair and glasses, tanned skin that made him look gorgeous.

“What’s happening here?” the other female stylist returned, mixing colour in a little black bowel with a brush which she set down and came to stand behind her coworker, the pair of them looking at you through the mirror. 

“Naomi, don’t you know who this is?” the male stylist spoke as he gestured to you, so that was her name, Naomi.

“My client?” she spoke, only for the male stylist to let out a sigh and reach for the magazine he was holding previously, holding it up and gesturing back to you.

God, you remembered the day you did the shoot for that cover, the outfit they put you in was made almost entirely of latex and it was the middle of summer, you almost got heatstroke.

Naomi’s face seemed to concentrate for a moment before realisation hit her and she turned to you with a surprised look.

“Doing your hair has just become a much more high pressure task.” her joke has the male stylist waving his hand and laughing, a small chuckle leaving your lips as she returned to standing behind you completely.

“Honestly, i have no expectations, i honestly just need a change.” you mused, shaking your head.

With saying that, a look of concentration appeared over Naomi’s features as she looked at you in the mirror and began to hold your hair up in certain directions.

“Have you considered the big chop?” she offered, which had you tilting your head. “Well, your hairs almost down to your waist baby girl, if you wanna let go of old memories, that’s the best way to do it.”

Initially, the idea scared you, but the more you thought about it, the idea of shorter hair was growing in you more and more every second you thought about it.

“It doesn’t have to be massive, maybe juuust..” Naomi paused as she lined her fingers up to just below your shoulders, showing that you could still have it long, but just get rid of almost a third of it at the same time.

Pausing for a moment, you considered it, words of reinvention from your life coach echoing in your mind as you stared at yourself, eventually letting out a slightly nervous sigh, before nodding.

“Let’s do it.”

“Sutan, get me my shears.” Naomi spoke, to which the male stylist who you now knew as Sutan, nodded his head.

-

By the time you were halfway through the process, your hair was covering the ground and a fresh layer of colour was processing on your head.

Sutan had taken to putting on one of your songs through the bluetooth speaker in the salon and was actively using a hair brush as a microphone, his lip syncing keeping you smiling and laughing throughout the entire time.

Naomi was fiddling around with the foils on your head and occasionally sending Sutan a look of playful non serious judgement.

“So what happened to that boyfriend of yours?” Naomi started, “All i heard was that there was a settlement, but nothing else.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a huff.

“Caught him in bed with my makeup artist.” you spoke flatly, only for Sutan to gasp behind you and turn suddenly.

“Shut up.” he mused, which brought a chuckle out of you as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know how long it was going on for, but needless to say, he’s not my producer, or my boyfriend anymore.” 

Nodding satisfactorily with your words, Naomi put her brush down.

“Good, if it had been me, his tires would have been slashed.”

Hearing that, Sutan piped up.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Allegedly.” Naomi rebutted with a smirk, patting your shoulder, “Just gotta let you process for a bit, then we’ll rinse, i’m gonna run out and get something to eat really quick.”

“Can you get me a latte?” Sutan requested, only for Naomi to raise an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna pay for it?” she queried as she stood up and reached behind the counter for her purse.

“I’ll get you back for it.” Sutan groaned, rolling his eyes as it was obvious.

Even if she didn’t say anything, Naomi pointed a warning finger at him before leaving through the front door and heading across the road to the take out place that you’d seen a few times already.

By the time you were finished in the salon, with your hair rinsed and dried, you felt like an entirely new person, weight off of your shoulders both figuratively and literally.

When you’d paid at the counter, Sutan had given you a hug and proclaimed that you’d better come back and let them do your hair, even when you were back in LA.

Naomi had waved goodbye to you as you exited with a ring of the bell, having promised that you’d always have a spot in her chair.

It almost broke your heart just how beautiful the people here were, small enough of a population to where everybody knew each other, it’s was like just one big massive family.

Just as the thoughts of how you didn’t deserve this began to creep their way into your brain, you willed them away with a small shake of your head and focused on getting an uber back home. 

-

By the time you returned home, it was almost 6pm, walking down the driveway after being dropped off only to see a truck parked in the driveway that you didn’t recognise, at least not at first. 

Upon getting closer and walking past it in order to get to the front door, you realised who the truck belonged to, Royal.

Must have been visiting your dad, it certainly wasn’t abnormal at least, or even just if it was to talk business, there were a lot of reasons that Royal might be stopping by.

You continued to play with your hair as you walked up the stairs, admiring the fresh feeling of ends that were no longer split and dead, as well as the overall softness that always seemed to follow a salon visit.

The change in colour, though minor, was enough to have you feeling like a brand new person; you supposed whoever had started the rumor that hair holds energy was correct, cause the cut had left you feeling lighter all together.

Swinging the door open, the first sight to greet you was your father sitting at the dining room table directly in front of you in the kitchen, a mug in his hand and a smile on his face.

Across from him was Royal, just as you’d expected, the pair of older men laughing about some sort of old story that only the two of them could recall.

As quickly as the sight warmed your heart, your heart skipped a beat as you stepped further into the room and realised there were three more heads at the table.

Perry and Amy were sat next to each other on the table, Amy nursing a small cup of juice as Perry sat there smiling at his dad and the recollection of a fun time in his youth.

Rhett’s arms were crossed, also watching the two men, his gaze was the first to fall on you when the door shut, quickly followed by your dad who let out a whistle when he saw your new hair.

“Look at that!” he spoke, nodding his head in approval as you stood next to him and leaded down to lay a kiss on his cheek. “Very nice, Ducky.” 

He’d always loved it when your hair was shorter, closer to the way your mother always cut it, so when you’d let it start to grow out after you left, he’d made comments about how it didn’t feel like you anymore.

These comments were used against you by your ex, the way he’d convinced you that your father was trying to sabotage your career because he wanted you back.

You could recall his words like they were yesterday. You’d be standing in the kitchen trying to catch your breath after an argument over the phone and he’d stood across from you with his arms folded.

While you’d wiped your tears, he made no effort to comfort you, only sipped on his coffee and let out a sigh.

”You can’t let him take it out on you like that.” he’d spoken, which made you furrow your brows.

“I shouldn’t have yelled, jesus, what’s wrong with me.” your voice broke as you wiped your face with your hand.

“What does he expect? he was being so passive aggressive.” he shrugged, putting down his cup and walking to stand in front of you. “He’s getting in the way of your career, baby, you’ve got important things going on right now and he knows that.” 

His words were carefully phrased, they always were, planting seeds of doubt to push you away from everybody except him, he’d made it so that all answers led to him, all paths lead you back into his arms.

It wasn’t even cause he loved you, he wanted to control you.

It was Royal’s voice who brought you back from your memory, breaking out of your trance as he smiled across at you. 

“Look’s great, sweetheart.” 

Giving him a thankful smile, you couldn’t help but run your hand through it as you put your bag down.

“It’s a bit of a change.” you breathed softly with a laugh, “But it was needed.” 

Amy was smiling at you when you made eye contact, which you returned with a small wink which had her hiding her face behind her glass shyly.

When you turned to look at Rhett again, his eyes had remained on you the entire time, but he’d said nothing, his expression remaining indifferent as he sat there with his arms crossed. 

Turning your gaze back to Amy, you stopped at the bottom of the stairs and jerked your head. 

“Let’s leave these boys alone, huh superstar?” you offered, which had her looking over to Perry for permission which he promptly returned with a small nod. 

Holding out your hand as she got up and ran over, you took her small one in your own and began to walk up the stairs, sparing one more shared glance at Rhett as you disappeared onto the next floor. 

Amy sat on your bed as you went through your wardrobe, asking occasional questions with the topics ranging from tours you’d done to music videos you’d filmed.

“It was really hot that day, and they had me wearing a really thick outfit, so I nearly got heatstroke.” you laughed as you explained the story of your almost heatstroke incident while touring in spain, which you could remember as clear as day.

You could also remember trying to extend glances at your manager to beg for help, only to see him consistently glued to his phone in the wings, or gone altogether.

But of course you left that part out as a conveniently missed detail.

Pulling a box out of the wardrobe, you sat next to Amy on the bed and undid the clasp, opening the lid to reveal your small jewellery collection, amassed of pieces you’d been given by designers who you’d grown close to over the years or bought yourself.

Sifting around the pieces as Amy looked over them in awe, you found what you were looking for and pulled out the small star earrings, a pair that had been in your possession for a year or two, you’d done promotion for the brand and they let you keep some of the pieces you’d done for the photoshoot.

“What do you think?” you asked Amy, holding them up to her ears and standing to show her in your floor length mirror.

Her face beamed as she looked at the small diamond stars on her ears, bringing a bright smile to your own face as she giggled.

“They’re yours now.” you spoke, kneeling to carefully undo the earrings she already had in her ears and gliding them onto her ears, putting the small clasp on the back.

Surprise took over Amy’s face, turning to look at you as she ran her finger over the small earrings. 

“Really??” she gasped, looking back in the mirror as you nodded and rubbed her upper back.

“Of course, if you’re gonna be a rodeo queen one day, you’ve gotta have jewellery to match, call this a start.” 

You spoke as if it was obvious, as if you could look into the future and could say with absolute certainty that Amy was gonna be just that. 

Just as people had once encouraged you, the least you could do was pass it on to her.

It was footsteps coming up the stairs that had you putting a finger on your lips and smiling at her softly.

“Don’t tell your dad.” you whispered to her, which had her nodding with a small giggle.

“If he asks, tell him you stole them.” you joked, laughing with Amy as you watched a figure appear in the doorway out of the corner of your eye.

You expected it to be Perry, even Royal maybe, but you hadn’t prepared for it to be Rhett standing in your doorway, your face falling slightly as you caught his eye.

You hadn’t spoken, which left where you both stood with each other all the more uncertain, unsure if you were meant to just pretend that nothing had happened or not.

“Dad says time to go.” he nodded to Amy, who frowned slightly, turning back to you to give you a tight hug which had you letting out a small “Oomf.” before returning it with a small chuckle.

“I’ll see you soon, rodeo queen.” you spoke softly when she pulled away, and watched her run past Rhett and heard her walking down the stairs. 

Raising from where you kneeled, initially you and Rhett stood there in silence looking at each other.

You opened your mouth, only to realise you had absolutely no idea what you were gonna say, promptly closing it when you couldn’t think of any words to come out.

Leaning on your door frame, Rhett cleared his throat, taking a moment to scan over your room with his eyes, before turning back to look at you.

“You been okay?” 

It was the first word he’d spoken to you in days, but it still felt good that it was paired with some semblance of care for you, his eyes seeming to frame themselves with genuine concern. 

Nodding your head, you let out a small sigh and offered him a smile, which even if he didn’t return, you saw the way his eyes took on a small bit of softness.

“Yeah.” 

There wasn’t really any need to joke around with him, respond in some cliche small talk way, you knew all he needed to know was that you were feeling better. 

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he nodded his head. 

“I like your hair.” 

You breathed out a laugh at his comment, your gaze turning to the mirror for a few seconds to look it over again and play around with it with your right hand, pushing a piece of it behind your ear.

“Yeah, well, they say hair holds memories..” you started, turning to look back at him. “God knows i’ve got a hell of a lot of memories to try and get rid of.” 

His face took on a new look, one you hadn’t seen before, at least not directly, similar to that look of guilt that he’d given you after your argument following the medication when he’d stormed out, like he was holding responsibility for something. 

As he opened his mouth, it’s like you could feel the “I’m sorry.” coming out of his mouth before he even got to the first word, cutting him off.

“Don’t worry about it..” you laughed softly, “you’re only at fault for like.. 5% of my issues..” you joked, which had him hanging his head and letting out a breathy laugh.

“I guess that’s comforting to hear?” he spoke like he was unsure about it, which only had you laughing a bit more as you took a step closer to him. 

“It should be.” 

With that, you and Rhett were once again left in a silence that was only now slightly more comfortable and lighter, still an air of unsureness as you stared at each other, much closer now than you were when he’d entered the room. 

Turning your head slightly to the left, you struggled with the eye contact, something you shouldn’t struggle with considering the amount of interviews you’d had to do over the years, but something about it being Rhett’s baby blues looking back at you made you feel insecure in a way that you hadn’t felt since high school.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” You asked while looking away, turning back after speaking to see Rhett seemingly struggling with the topic just as much as you were.

“Is there much to talk about?” he rebutted, which had you huffing softly.

“Well, yeah..” you sighed, “I guess we’ve got some shit to air out.” 

Taking in a breath, Rhett’s hand raised to run his fingers over his jaw, seeming to be in deep consideration before he shrugged.

“Sounds like something we should discuss over dinner.” 

His boldness was odd, yet refreshing; you supposed it wasn’t entirely misplaced to ask you out to dinner, especially considering you’d slept in his arms and he’d seen you half naked at this point.

Any more animosity between you had effectively gone poof the moment you’d let him hold you like that.

Didn’t mean it didn’t need to be talked about. 

“Is that your way of asking me on a date?” you enquired, watching him as he shrugged.

“It’s my way of asking you to have dinner with me, date or not.” he responded, the small smile peeking at the corner of his mouth telling you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sometimes you truly did forget that he was a ladies man and had been since highschool.

“Alright then, dinner.” you agreed, turning for a moment to grab your phone off of the bed and step back over to him while holding it out.

“Text me and smooth out the details.” you directed, which he went ahead and did without question, punching his number into your contacts and naming himself. 

Handing your phone back, Rhett offered you the first proper smile he’d ever given you, you were pretty certain of that at least.

Smiling back, you reached out a hand and lightly pushed on his chest, getting him out of your door frame, which he let you do, stepping back and keeping his arm crossed. 

“Drive safe, I’ll see you when I see you.” you spoke with a narrowed gaze, watching as he shook his head and smiled, all before turning and heading back down the stairs, which you leaned on your door frame and watched until he disappeared from view.

Shutting your bedroom door, you leaned your forehead against the wood for a moment and let out a soft groan.

What the fuck were you doing. Less than a week ago, you could have killed Rhett Abbot with one glare alone, now the pair of you were making dinner preparations. 

It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary for you to have highly fluctuating emotions and feelings towards people, something you’d spoken about with your therapist in detail for a couple of years now; you changed like the weather, it had been that way since you were young.

Turning around, you walked to the bed and sat down, listening to the sound of trucks pulling out of your driveway in the distance, staring at the patterned blanket on your bed and tracing it with your eyes until the sound became so distant it disappeared all together. 

Some part of you so clearly wanted to be around Rhett, spend time with him and just genuinely felt happier when he was around, the other part of you still held you back, that little voice in your head putting you down for feeling this way about someone who’d been such a horrible way toward you, considering yourself a coward for doing so.

Just as you felt yourself starting to dwell on it far more heavily than you wanted to, the buzzing of your phone paired with the chiming of a facetime call pulled you out of your own thoughts.

Amanda’s photo flashed across the screen, her face being enough to calm you down thoroughly; she was exactly the person you needed to speak to right now, to give you the guidance you needed.

Sliding your finger across the screen, you smiled as the call began with the small thrum of the answer sound, readying yourself to fill Amanda in on everything that had been happening.

The look you saw on her face as she came into view was anything but happy, if anything she looked stressed. 

Your own smile fell, anxiety filling your belly as she let out a deep sigh.

“What’s wrong?” you enquired, so many different things flowing through your head, getting worse and worse as your mind played.

“We have a problem.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @foreverchangingmind . @tsukikyo . @marsupialnoises . @iknowrocknroll . @astromilku . @dragoste-lunes . @articel1967 . @jonnybernthalslover . @chili4prez . @cosm-0-nauts . @its-just-me-rin . @cultof-saints . @amazingishlivy . @badbishsblog . @jules420 . @allhailbuckybarnes

[fewuwa]

I’m tired how misunderstood White lily and Pure Vanilla’s relationship

Today I want to address some takes about these two, including some character analysis on both. Let’s start from this.

As a ship – if you dislike or hate purelily – suit yourself. I’m not here to try to change your mind about it, the way how you feel about it or anything. You can still interpret them as friends. But I’m just genuinely tired how both characters are mischaracterized in case to prove somehow that the pairing is baaaad. It’s just a post where I want to express my opinion about it based on game’s story, since both characters are VERY important for each other’s arc.

Roquefort background skill. Like wow dude, they came out in 2019, almost 2 years before crk came. And devs decided deliberately put PV and WL next to each other as an easter egg. If that’s not the proof that they planned the importance of their relationship from the start then idk. (Roquefort cookie in crk when btw- )

And this – I think wl fans have a right to be bitter about pv and the way fandom formed opinion about white lily through his point of view, even mostly it was flawed since he didn’t know (!and still doesn’t know!) what exactly happened. Pv fans on the other hand? Most of their prejudice towards white lily is rooted in misogyny, victim-blaming and straight up lying about her character on purpose. I see many of them doing this because they can’t accept the fact that these two share a very strong bond. This treatment of wl as a character has damaged a lot on how she is viewed in fandom. If you don’t like her as a character – it’s ok, but please, stop demonizing, treating her as some toxic abuser or that she is bad for him (funny, knowing what ship with him is the most popular rn), just pretend she doesn’t exist or whatsoever.Ok let’s start with

1)Pure vanilla is a bad friend and doesn't care!!!!!

I see this take rarely(it is mostly a bait), but still want to address this. It usually comes out of Odyssey, bcs of what Pure Vanilla said here. And also, due to some story events, for which Pv feels guilty. Let's start from Odyssey.

Was he wrong here? Absolutely. White lily's intentions were never bad and she did everything for cookiekind. But did he have the right to assume the worst because of the game events? Also... yes.

What people don't take into consideration is that PV didn't know what happened to WL and what has caused her to change into DE. He only can make assumptions based on what Dark Enchantress did. And according to the story, Dark Enchantress is actually power hungry.

In the end, she tried to steal the soul jams of her past friends for her goal, caused the war, where 2 kingdoms were destroyed, including PV's... Which he really loved and cared about. I think he has a right to have some kind of sadness about the whole situation.

(Maybe his assumptions could also come from the fact that wl never abonded her goal from the academy - to cook the perfect cookie, which lead to very bad consequences. And in this goal, she also was searching for knowledge and power . But idk if pv knew about it )

! I think tho Pv should've noted that it's just his presumptions based on the very little he knew at that moment. (But taking the context of situation, he had to explain situation to his friends since they just discovered the horrible fact he was hiding from them, I don't think he had enough time to find the right words)

Again, in the end he is wrong. And he admits it in Beast-Yeast. AND he is happy to discover that he was wrong! That white lily's intentions were always sincere, and she had to sacrifice a lot for her goal. Pv feels bittersweet, because he realizes that he failed her as a friend. And what ppl for some reason don't acknowledge is that he wants to do better, to understand her better. He understands now that all she needs is genuine support and a friend who will be always there for her, not someone who needs to stop her. In the end, they have the same goal - to build the better world for everyone. I think this realization indicates that he cares a lot about her and wants to be by her side this time.

Misunderstandings can happen between people who even are very close due to the lack of communication. But that doesn't mean that person A doesn't love or care about the person B. Pv still loved her, even though he felt conflicted if that is the right thing to do due to story events, since DE inflicted so much suffering on friends he also loves. But even like that, he still tried to reach for her!

And what people don't realize is that these situations take place because of.... Pv's flaws as a character.

He hesitates all the time. He doesn't like addressing the things directly, because he is scared. Scared to accidently hurt the cookies he loves. But in the end, it usually leads to bigger scars when the truth is revealed. Odyssey itself is the best example of that. And this also takes place in his relationship with white lily.He never properly addressed his concerns to her. Even Shadow milk points this out to hurt pv, because he is right.

I also saw opinions that it is wrong that he feels guilt in the first place. But this guilt comes from the fact that he is a perfectionist by his nature. He is a leader of the ancients, and of course because of that he feels much bigger responsibilities. And when things go wrong, he blames himself for that, even though situation can be out of his control. It hurts even more in case of white lily, because she is his best friend, and again he failed her, couldn't prevent this change in her heart.

By the end of his Beast-yeast episodes, he accepts himself, that he is flawed and it is ok, because even flaws can help you see the light. He will no longer hesitate, and he is stronger than ever. And he believes that White lily will also help herself, because he knows that no matter what path she chooses, she is the same empathetic, good-hearted cookie he knows!

Now to going to white lily cookie

2)White lily doesn't care about pure vanilla. It's one-sided🤓🤓🤓☝☝☝

Where do I even start...

Literally the start of the game. The very first thing when she finds pv's statue, she feels a sadness. She felt by her heart that something horrible has happened.

As soon as white lily discovers that pv is in danger, she runs away from gingergang to save him because she doesn't want him to suffer. She constantly worries about him, his feelings and well-being.

The first thing she asked him when she woke up is how is he feeling about her, because she knows that he can feel uncomfortable due to the tragic story events. In the end, she still blames herself a lot for what happened. She thanks him for his help in the end of 2nd episode, because she knows that he is always here for her.

Very not caring behavior from her side😊

ALSO THIS.

You think devsisters put this in story for fun and giggles? Pv takes a very important place in her life, you like it or not. PURE VANILLA specifically, not gingergang, faeries (they are also important for her, mind you) is her weak spot. And she doesn't deny it, because it is a truth! And even de has the same feelings inherited from her (and that's why she still has special beef with pure vanilla, because the thing she hates the most is being weak)

And the fact that her own light of freedom has called for pv’s help… Reached to him.

To me, these are good proofs that pv has a big place in her heart. He is the one who always accepted her back no matter how many mistakes she did, and probably was her first friend, the first cookie she built a strong connection with. In the end, she really enjoys his company and missed him a lot.

Ppl usually characterize her as indifferent because she doesn’t have a strong emotional response towards some game events right now. I think it comes from the fact that she represses her true feelings and came to terms with herself. What fandom also doesn't want to notice is that my girl has some issues. Serious issues.

I don't think that's a normal child's behavior. She is constantly concerned about herself, her scent and how others will react to it, even though she can't control it and there is nothing wrong with it.

She has a goal of creating a perfect cookie since childhood, and in the end it leads to tragedy at academy, and for this mistake she probably pays with her youth,mental state ( she literally has nightmares about events).

She was still a child by the events, feels guilt and did all she could to fix her mistake, “repent” (whatever it means specifically). I genuinely wish in the next beast yeast episode academy years and wl's life after accident will be described in more details, because it seriously affected her.

When she is an adult and an ancient, she spends her whole life researching and trying to find a way to make a better world for everyone. But… she is alone in her goal. In the end, she isolated herself from the others, even her dearest friends.

White lily is a very kind and emphathetic character. She wants to cease cookie's sufferings, that's why she does a lot of research. But… Why does she have such a goal in the first, what is the root of her motivation? WHY did she never ask for help?

White lily’s story is not finished yet, so from this part it’s more of assumptions which could explain her behavior for that part. I hope in Beast-Yeast this part will be elaborated.

Again, Wl had low self-esteem and poor self-worth since childhood. And she was worrying about cookies’ being fragile, and that this weakness makes them suffer. And I think this part comes from… her own insecurities about herself too.

!She is also usually described as fragile, and probably felt very weak in her body ( can be a disabled analogy if you are brave enough)! And it made her feel constant anxiety about herself. That’s where the goal of creating a perfect cookie goes from… A being which is free from suffering and can be a key to a better world for everyone…Right?

She doesn’t understand, why witches (their literal gods) baked them this way in the first place – frail and weak, leading to suffering of so many. She wants to find a true purpose in her life as a such weak creature. That’s why she goes on a such dangerous adventure – to ask them directly about it.

White lily cookie is often described as someone very selfish. And it’s true, but a nuance is that she is selfish in her selflessness.

There is a tragedy here. She doesn’t value her life at all, and for it is worthy deal to even sacrifice her life to get answers from witches. And due to having zero self-worth, she doesn’t even realize how her possible death might affect others.

And as we know, the truth…was more dreadful than she has ever imagined. She discovers that for her gods she is just a snack. And they don’t even treat them as living creatures with their own feelings, will. All her life is nothing to them basically. And it is proved well when she fell in the ultimate dough and was being used by them as an experiment, a cruel joke. I believe Dark enchantress is born out of White Lily’s pain, repressed negative emotions and genuine anger. Anger that her kind is treated this way, and now SHE (DE) is in control. She will rebuild the world in the way that is right, where are cookies are at the top of the food chain no matter what it will cost.

And addressing white lily’s isolation from others – I have a game theory here

This scene. I think it is the reason why she never wanted to involve anyone in her duties as an ancient. She was scared. Scared to be rejected.

We still don’t know details of this– how exactly pv looked at her? Was he more worried or terrified be how far experiments are going (and he is not in the wrong to feel this way, know that it ended up in a tragedy). I think tho that Lily misunderstood the reason of this reaction – that she couldn’t come with any proper results and that’s why he was feeling this way, when the reason is different.

(What I need to mention that both were still CHILDREN THERE. The events of academy definitely affected and traumatized both of them. It’s wrong to blame anyone here, the way vanilla felt and couldn’t address it properly to his best friend he could be scared to ruin their friendship, and lily for what happened (again, it was an accident and she feels regret for that. She did everything to fix the mistake as much as possible in that situation), since both of them weren’t understanding properly what they were doing. If there is someone to blame – teachers, who didn’t notice alarming behavior from lily’s side)

In the end it might’ve strongly affected her. She didn’t want to involve any of her loved ones in her researches, because she was terrified of the idea that it might hurt them and cause discomfort. It is only her duty, her mission, awful burden to bear.

That’s it.

At last, some things I also want to point out^^

1)I generally often see takes that pv should let go his feelings towards wl, and they are usually treated as some kind of flaw he should get rid of. And I really don't get what's wrong with pv feeling this way, especially when there is a basis for these feelings. In the end, he never enforced his feelings towards wl, respecting her boundaries, their friendship and keeping it to himself. I can only explain this due to some fans' bias, but you can disagree with me ofc

2) Ppl blame wl that she doesn't care about pv because she isn't with him all the time, which is... very dumb. Fandom needs to understand, that both pv and wl are SEPERATE CHARACTERS with their own lives, even though their narratives are connected. Pure vanilla had a whole kingdom to maintain, and white lily had her own goals in mind. They are not bound to each other. White lily is NOT pure vanilla’s extension; she is a separate character with her problems.

3) White lily has less screen time than vanilla. Even in beast-yeast episodes she was heavily sidelined by others. Most of the fandom forms opinion about her from other characters’ view her ( she kinda haunts the narrative lol). That’s why it is still hard to characterize her, because I believe that many details about her weren’t revealed yet. I hope new beast-yeast episode will focus more on how she feels about others and the situation from a deeper perspective. Fandom needs to stop pretending that her story is over.

4) there is nothing between pv and wl that cannot be solved by heart to heart conversation. They both did mistakes and they both want to do better. Yes, they grew distant due to personal issues and responsibilities, but that doesn't mean they should keep this distance, especially when both sides DON'T WANT IT.

To conclude, pv and wl's relationship is nuanced. It's not perfect, but not as toxic as ppl try to frame. But what's there for sure - genuine love and care from both of them. And that's why I love pv and wl^^

[palmolli]

The Actually INSANE Mis-Characterization of Hylia

Oh, haha, would you look at that. Andie's back to going on stupid, utterly useless rants about a character that's BARELY a character whatsoever to defend her non-existent honor. What's there to mis-characterize if there was no character to begin with?

Is what I would say, if she DIDN'T have a heavily implied/basically blatant personality.

A lot of fan-works I see tend to characterize Hylia like this:

Female manipulator. Has no regard for children whatsoever and sends them into war like an absolute coward. Completely callous, and only cares for her own self-interest and gain. Neglectful mother. Hylian Schmylians. Uses Link as a war weapon with no remorse.

Everytime I see that absolute bull honkey I stare at my screen like a tired father. I am mad. I am disappointed. And here's your freaking lecture.

If we're speaking canon-wise, as in Skyward Sword, we don't know much about her, but if we read between the lines, we can actually get an idea of what she would've been like. And plus, we've also got her in mortal form. Okay, yeah, she shoved Link off of Skyloft. Bit rude.

But in her defense, once she realized Link's bird really wasn't coming, she immediately jumped to his rescue and proceeded to assist in his search. This little TEENY-WEENY little moment has garnered a lot of jokes around it, giving Zelda a reputation as a best friend murderer.

It's treated as if the act was on purpose, when really, she was under the belief Link was lying to get out of practice.

...this... this little thing, as Zelda, is basically how Hylia's entire character has been treated, and I am SO sick of it. Many act as if she sends the heroes on traumatic journeys when they're young on purpose. When no. She did not. You're just placing the entire blame on her shoulders for whatever reason.

No, she didn't throw the flipping moon at Time. That was Majora. She didn't kill the hero of the Wild. That was the guardians. HYLIA DIDN'T KILL LEGEND'S UNCLE!!!! THAT WAS AGHANIM!!!!

This all started with the Hero of the Sky.

The whole idea she just... sends children to fight demons is... stupid. If you had payed... ATTENTION... during Skyward Sword, it is stated that Link and Zelda were sent down onto the surface far before schedule. Why?

GHIRAHIM.

Oh, but nah, Hylia totally wanted a 17 year old fighting evil himself. Yeah.

Oh, WAIT, HAHAHA, SHE DIDN'T EVEN WANT LINK FIGHTING DEMISE IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!!!!!

When Zelda speaks to Link before The Sealing Away, she explains the reasoning behind Hylia's reincarnation. She needed to become mortal in order to use the triforce against Demise. Link was simply a backup up plan. If she didn't succeed, he'd have to get the triforce to destroy him while she keeps him sealed.

"Oh, but she also did it to make Link fall in love with her so that he'd be willing to fight for her!!!!"

And would you LOOK AT THAT.

Apology after apology. (SHE EVEN THANKS LINK SINCERELY) Hylia's entire reasoning for doing this is in because she actually CARES about her people:

But she also acknowledged the fact that it doesn't excuse how she treated Link!

"Oh but thats not Hylia talking, it's Zelda!!!"

She literally outright says it. What.

"Oh but in breath of the wild, the goddess statues-"

That takes place way after Skyward Sword. For all we know, after this Zelda died, she reclaimed her name and role as Hylia.

Hylia's life as a mortal, growing up as Zelda, is her character development.

And it makes me mad seeing people take these flaws and blow them completely out of proportion to paint Hylia as an antagonist. She ISN'T perfect. She was trying to do the right thing but ended up hurting the one she held dearest in the process, not even knowing she would care so much about him at all. Nobody acknowledges how actually beautiful that is, whether or not Nintendo actually intended that. (I doubt it.)

Like

"AHHH THIS CHARACTER DID A MISTAKE!!!! SHE'S EVIL AND COMPLETELY MALICIOUS!!!!"

She amended for it.

Have we all collectively forgotten that?

Ahhh... but Demise's curse.

KEYWORD: Demise's curse.

Hylia never expected Demise to do that because, again, she never expected there to be a fight with Demise at all. She chose the alternative route because she herself nearly died fighting him. Zelda explains that Hylia was extremely wounded after her battle with Demise. She intended for the Hero of the Sky to be the last, not the first of many.

Demise is at fault for the curse. Like entirely. He's the one who said "Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero are forever bound to this curse... blah blah baja blast." NOT. HYLIA.

Y'all seem WAY too focused on pinning the blame on Hylia for literally everything ever.

OH CRAP!!! GANONDORF KILLED MY ADOPTIVE TREE FATHER!!!

Hylia's fault.

OH CRAP!!! GANONDORF KIDNAPPED MY SISTER!!!

Hylia's fault.

OH CRAP!!! GANONDORF MANIPULATED AN ALREADY SCHEMING ADVISOR TO THE TWILI ROYAL FAMILY TO TAKE OVER BOTH REALMS, LEADING TO THE KIDNAPPING OF MY CLOSE FRIENDS!!!

Hylia's fault.

OH CRAP!!! GANON TOOK OVER THE ANCIENT TECH WE WERE GONNA USE TO KILL HIM TO KILL ME AND SENT ME INTO A 100 YEAR LONG COMA, ALONG WITH KILLING ALL MY FRIENDS!!!

Hylia's fault.

OH CRAP!!! GANON!!!

Hylia's fault.

OH CRAP!!! I STUBBED MY TOE.

Hylia's fault.

I am. So done.

Oh, and if we're gonna get into non-canon territory, aka the pre-sksw manga, that just makes Hylia look EVEN BETTER.

Firstly, Hylia takes charge in trying to defeat Demise, just as she did in the game, but even less so here, since she's looking for a hero now.

But the thing is, buddy is a full-grown adult, presumably. So it's not like she's walking into an elementary school and going "Hmmmm... yes... that little one picking his nose in the corner will do." And one might argue, "SHE SAW LINK SUFFER THROUGH FOUR YEARS OF FALSE IMPRISONMENT AND DID LITERALLY NOTHING, AND DIDN'T CARE UNTIL SHE COULD USE HIM AGAINST DEMISE"

Have a DIRECT quote from the manga.

"Your imprisonment was willed by the heavens. It was meant to make you strong, like a sword hammered and honed so that it would never break. It was necessary to transform you into one fit to wield the master sword... The sword was tempered by your spirit. You woke it... and will serve as its master for all eternity. This is because you deeply love the land of Hylia... and all its people... as I do. But because of this, your life has been full of suffering. I have watched you... and felt your pain like a knife through my body."

Guess what this implies!!

She has empathy.

Golly gee.

And mind you, she's saying all of this while CRYING over his DEAD. BODY. She also says she loves her people. Straight up. And that includes Link. In both instances, sksw and the manga, she shows genuine remorse for the things Link's gone through. In the manga, it only says "the heavens willed it" which could mean anything. It doesn't mean she was directly behind putting him through emotional hell. While in sksw, she admits to being behind it, and again, APOLOGIZES TO HIM MULTIPLE TIMES.

And can we talk about the line "I felt your pain like a knife through my body" for a second???!??!?! She isn't doing this for her own gain. She very clearly expresses that hurting Link hurts her. Plus, Link isn't entirely helpless, you guys. He wasn't really "forced" in any instance.

Pre-sksw manga was already known as a hero. He had a love for the land and the people, leading to his decision to fight. Skyward Sword Link had the option to just stay home, but he didn't because he wanted to save his Zelda. Similar things go for EVERY LINK EVER. They generally choose to step up for their own personal reasons.

Seriously. WHY do you people choose to dog on Hylia so freaking much!?!?!?! I like woman villains as much as anyone, but Hylia is just... not the one, man. She is a flawed character. She's made huge mistakes. But that does not make her a villain.

[littlefankingdom]

~ Gotham Knights

This issue makes me insane. Warning: long rant incoming.

Bruce sees himself in Cassandra, but what he is seeing is his suicidal ideation. It's the belief that he is not a good person, he is just doing what he hopes is good, but he doesn't believe he is good. He sees that Cassandra feels the same, and it terrorizes him.

Here, this suicidal side of her leads her to disregard his orders and to come back for him, only to sacrifice herself to save him. He acknowledges (the analysis in third person is from Bruce) that his kids all have and will disregard do the same thing, but for different reasons. It's so interesting, because the batkids used as an example are the ones that are and will become his legal children. The writer received the gift of prophecy on that one. Anyway, back to the reasons. Dick, it's to demonstrate he is a good son. Mind you, Dick isn't adopted yet, so Bruce DOES KNOW Dick sees him as a father figure. Tim, it's because he has a lot of empathy. For Jason, as I'm not a native English speaker, I have no idea what "individuation" means and I haven't been able to find a definition, so I will say it's because he was headstrong and rebellious to stand out (again, may be wrong about this one).

I am now going to deviate for a bit about Cass and Bruce to talk about Jason. First, I think the description here is not meant to be negative at all, even though it may sound like it is. Jason was a teen, of course he was rebellious, and a bat, of course he was headstrong. I believe the reasons are actually description of where in their life those characters are. Dick is a young adult, independent and his own hero, but he still comes back to Bruce when the man needs him. I do not think Dick had the same reasons for saving Batman and disregarding orders when he was 9 or 13 or 16, and so, Bruce would not use the same words. Damn, Bruce would probavly have described Dick the same way he describes Jason here when the boy was the same age. Jason died 15 going on 16, in his teenage rebellious age. Timothy, he is the kid that is currently Robin when he doesn’t want to (in the Young Justice run and his own, he keeps mentioning how he wants to stop being a vigilante one day, and how he would put away the cape if he could) but he is because people needs him. And Cass, she is suffering from suicidal thoughts and afraid she can never be good because of her past, wearing a symbol she admires without thinking she is good enough for it. Also, the acknowledgement that all of them would disregard Bruce's order to save him, AKA THEIR PARENT, also goes against the stupid theme of blaming Jason for his death. Jason disregarded Bruce's order to save his parent, like any of them would do and Bruce still doesn't know how to make them stop.

Another thing about those reasons is that one is missing. Bruce is literally pointing out that Cass, like himself, is in denial about being a good person and why people would want her alive, all while denying that his kids would come to save him because THEY LOVE HIM. They really are father and daughter.

Back to Cass, the death of Jason is haunting the story now. Bruce is terrified about losing another, he cannot lose another. So, he makes a choice, a difficult choice. "If you want to continue working with me... With my family..." Here, the message is clear: Bruce can only accepts her as a part of his family if she doesn't give up on life, because he cannot handle another one dying. You can be my child, but for that you must live. And you must fight everyday to stay alive, because I will not survive losing another one of you. As he is seeing himself in her, he is also going for his own desire to have a family and not be alone, hoping she is the same. And it is working, because she reaches for him! And he turns his head away with sadness!

In the end, Cass does save herself. And Bruce's behavior is ajfjvekfvej. He was all anxious and sad, and the moment he realizes she's here, he is running to assist her, pushing others away to do it himself, to be the one to hold her. She is already his kid, he was so worried about her.

[sweet-but-vicious]

"Someone who I'm sure Simon also wanted to fuck the whole time."

Larries have written hundreds of explicit xfactor fics and underage larry fics from when Harry was only 16. Not to mention the thousands of underage age gap AUs. They sexualized a teen friendship between Harry and Louis. Simon wasn't doing this, it was your group.

You have a photo of 19 year old Louis as your pfp as a 40 year old woman. Stop projecting larrie perversions onto other people when the only degenerate thoughts here are from your own head.

Let me see if I get this straight, so because some people, (not me,) write underage smut, (again, not me,) a gross old man who has a history of being weird and creepy with underage boys is not weird and creepy but I, (a grown woman who is not sexually attracted to Harry or Louis at any age,) am?

Make it make sense.

Yes, my pfp is Louis looking like an adorable cat. It's because it's cute. I didn't pick it because I think it's hot, I picked it because he is my grumpy muffin baby.

Yes, SOME Larries sexualized them at sixteen and eighteen, I would venture to say that most of those Larries were also minors at the time and therefore the whole situation becomes part of the natural coming of age of teenages. Something, thankfully, I no longer have anything to do with. I wasn't even attracted to teenage boys when I was a teenage girl. My first crushes were Bruce Springsteen, Ron Pearlman, and Susanna Hoffs. I literally wasn't a One Direction fan until the past year because I assumed they were little boys aimed at little girls, and I never bothered to listen to the music. I have had to block tags on this site because I am friends with the mother of some very famous young men and I don't ever want to see anything people might say about those babies on my dash. I honestly don't love forming even online friendships with people under 25. I am not the drone you're looking for.

Meanwhile, the ENTIRETY OF THE BRITISH MEDIA sexualized a SEVENTEEN year old boy and fetishized him with a THIRTY-TWO year old woman. That is very different and that was spearheaded by Simon Fuckface. HE was in charge of their image and HE is the one who sexualized that child. Not being allowed to acknowledge that is like saying you're not allowed to blame him for it.

You don't get to try and dirty up my pure love for two talented, wonderful people who I believe are in a loving relationship just because some people on the internet are perverts. Not everything is sexual and I really worry for you if you are viewing the world in that way.

I can be a fan of the boys without sexualizing any of them.

I can acknowledge that they're beautiful humans without wanting to sleep with them.

I can recognize traits of a sexual nature in another adult that I also have without wanting to be involved with them sexually in any way.

One of the reasons I actually hate acknowledging celebrities that I love is that I worry that everyone will just say that I think they're cute or hot.

That's a very misogynistic way to view fandom.

That is a very misogynistic thing that people say about teenage girls to take away their agency.

I find it very disheartening that you would aim your vitriol at me instead of where it belongs.

[entityoffline]

better this way, you say

[sunniques]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

➺ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

➺ GENRE: boyfriend’s dad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your boyfriend’s manipulative father helps you get revenge in the nastiest way possible.

➺ CW/TW: yandere themes, slight obsession, age gap, cheating, manipulation, baby trapping, dry humping, panty stealing, mentions of masturbation, wonwoo is a depraved perv, dilf!wonwoo, nipple play, spitting, fingering, some cum play, unprotected sex, squirting, creampies

➺ WC: 4k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read. @wonustars hope you like it <3

Wonwoo is a sick man.

He knows this, he acknowledges it, and most importantly, he hides it.

When people thought of Jeon Wonwoo, they thought of a respectable lawyer, widower, loving father of two. And they were right. He had never done anything to indicate otherwise. Not publicly, anyway. For years he’s hidden his most depraved side without letting anyone know it existed.

His facade all starts to crumble when his son comes home from college with a lovely girl who he’s apparently head over heels for. Wonwoo recognizes the starry eyed look in his son’s eyes, and instead of being happy for him, all Wonwoo can feel is faint disgust and disdain. It’s pathetic and vile, but it’s a feeling that he can’t get rid of no matter what he does.

It gets worse when you start coming around more often, prancing around in your little shorts and skirts like Wonwoo doesn’t get hard just seeing your exposed skin. He’s sick for stealing your dirty panties when you come over and using them to jerk off, but again, he can’t stop his despicable actions. His obsession with you only grows as time goes on, and eventually he decides that he’s going to have you no matter what.

The first step in Wonwoo’s sick plan is showing you just how lavish life is with a man who can provide. He ruthlessly cuts his son off, insisting that getting out in the real world and being independent is necessary. It’s easy to ignore his son’s protests and clamors about how unfair it is that his sister doesn’t get the same treatment, mostly because he sees how fast this strategy works.

When he overhears his son tell you he actually can’t buy you the bag you’ve been wanting he can see the disappointment in your face. Wonwoo is smart enough to know it’s less about the bag and more about the seemingly empty promise. It makes sense since his son can no longer pay for your food or makeup or any clothes you like. His son can’t even get you lavish gifts you’d grown accustom to.

That’s why when your birthday rolls around, you don’t expect much. It’s perfect because you don’t expect to be spoiled which makes your reaction that much sweeter.

“Mr. Jeon!” You cry out in shock when you open the bag your boyfriend’s dad gave you. “I-I don’t know what to say! This is– I mean—Thank you!”

Not only did he gift you an expensive bag that his son had failed to give you, he also got you the biggest bottle of your favorite perfume, some clothes, and a very expensive necklace. Wonwoo smirked smugly when you hugged him, loving how you pressed your entire body against his. His son couldn’t have known, but he saw the way you started to look at him with less appreciation. Of course, it was only natural. After all, all women loved a man who could provide.

The next step was something Wonwoo couldn’t really be blamed for. All he did was have his coworker and her pretty daughter over for dinner when you were away visiting your family. He can’t be to blame for the fact that his son is a weak man who hasn’t truly accepted monogamy. Sure, he did push it along by leaving two college kids alone in a house full of liquor. And yes, he was responsible for them often meeting up whenever you weren’t around, but again, it wasn’t entirely his fault.

The final step to this long winded plan was making sure you found out.

Wonwoo is lucky his daughter has more of a moral compass than he and his son combined. The second she realized what was going on, she didn’t hesitate to tell you. Admittedly, he was saddened to know how heartbroken you initially felt. However, when he saw you again, you seemed void of that. All he could see was your thirst for revenge.

Luckily for you, he was more than willing to help you make that happen.

You still haven’t broken up with Wonwoo’s son, much to his annoyance. In fact, you’re acting like nothing’s wrong even when you come along to their vacation home during the summer. His son is hardly paying you any attention and his daughter has gone off with her friends somewhere, leaving you to your own devices.

“Hey, babe. I’m running to the store real quick. Need anything?” Your boyfriend asks without looking up from his phone.

Before, he would’ve insisted you go with him. Things change, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

“No thanks. Be safe.”

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, and you’re glad.

Your eyes drift over to Wonwoo, appreciating how good he looks. The perfect idea for revenge had occurred to you a while ago, and with the older man quietly sipping on some liquor on the couch, you know there’s no better time than the present to set your plan in motion.

Boldly, you get up from where you’re sitting and slide onto Wonwoo’s lap. Your panties are already slick with your arousal as you sit directly on his crotch. Dark eyes look at you in surprise when you gently start to grind your panty-clad pussy down without any qualms. All you do is smirk seductively before you go to kiss and suck on Wonwoo’s neck.

“Sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans, cock already hardening because of the wet heat that’s pushing down on him. “What about—?”

“Your son’s an asshole.” You say bluntly. “And I want him to feel as shitty as I do.”

You pull back, expecting Wonwoo to push you off of him or tell you what you’re doing is wrong. Instead he only laughs and goes to kiss you. A quiet squeal escapes you when he starts to lick into your mouth. You’re quick to melt into the kiss, moaning into his mouth when Wonwoo starts to guide your hips down onto his covered cock.

The sound of a car door slamming has you pulling away. You smirk when Wonwoo groans in disapproval. The wet spot you’ve left on his pants only turns you on even more, and all you do is wink at him before running upstairs to the guest room he provided for you.

The rest of the evening goes by without incident, well except for the fact that your boyfriend got a little too drunk on wine and was now passed out on the couch. His sister only looks at him with disgust and announces that she’s going to bed. You know the truth. Earlier, she confessed that she was going to sneak out to go clubbing with her friends. This was perfect since you were going to need her gone to execute your plan.

“Goodnight, Mr. Jeon.” You purr as you stretch your arms over your head, noticing his eyes drift down you where your skirt had ridden up.

You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you go upstairs. As soon as you get to the room, you leave the door open, slipping out of your clothes and putting on a tiny night shirt that came just above your belly button. You get on the bed and settle on your side, cunt still thrumming with arousal. All you can think about is getting fucked raw by your boyfriend’s dad, and you hope he hurries up and gives you what you want.

Slowly, you slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. It’s easy to lose yourself to the pleasure. Especially since your mind can’t stop replaying what happened earlier in the day. God, was Mr. Jeon a good kisser. Way better than his pathetic son. You mewl quietly, wishing the ache between your legs was being soothed by someone else.

Wonwoo almost cums in his pants when he sees you on the bed. You’re only wearing a small shirt and panties, which makes it easy to see what you’re doing. He smirks, slowly undressing himself as he approaches you. It’s funny how you don’t notice him until he slides in right behind you.

“Need some help?”

You pussy throbs in excitement, and before you can answer him, you feel his hand slip down your body to cover the one you have in your panties. The mewl you let out makes his cock twitch and throb. Wonwoo holds back a groan, ready to have you in the way he’s dreamed of for months.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” His breath fans against your ears. “I can’t have my kids walking in on us when we’re just getting started.”

You almost tell him his sweet little daughter is out partying with her friends so there’s no real reason to keep quiet, but you resist. After all, no one would be able stop you from fucking the insanely hot man playing with your pussy.

“So fucking wet.” Wonwoo whispers hotly. “What were you thinking about?”

“You.” It’s easy to admit, especially because you can tell how much he likes it. “And how fucking wrong this all is.”

Wonwoo hums, and it somehow seems like he’s gloating. His fingers circle your throbbing clit over and over until you’re squirming against him. “Maybe, but you like it. That’s why you’re dripping all over my hand. You like your boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy that much, huh, baby?”

“Fuck yeah.” You hiss, eyes falling closed when he pinches your wet clit. “You’re so fucking hot, Mr. Jeon. Way better than your pussy ass son.”

Wonwoo’s dick presses against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. Juices gush from your cunt as he groans into your neck. “I fucking knew it—I’ve always known it. Even before you were grinding your wet pussy on me.”

You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed that he knew you were attracted to him this entire time. It’s not like you can be blamed. He’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen, and obviously he felt some bit of attraction for you as well.

“Roll over and show me those pretty tits, baby.” Wonwoo rasps in your ear.

His words has more of your arousal coating his long fingers. You’re feeling hot all over, and you don’t hesitate to comply. You twist your body before you pull your shirt up to let your tits free. Immediately, your nipples harden under his dark gaze

“That’s it.” Wonwoo groans deeply as he rubs your pussy harder. “Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen. Fuck. Makes me want to suck on them until you’re creaming all over my fingers.”

You moan and arch your back into him. Wonwoo licks his lips and stops rubbing your pussy to pull off your panties. He grabs his cock and rubs it along your pussy. You cry out quietly when you feel his hot cock skip between your wet folds and drag against your clit and dripping hole. By now you’re panting, hips writhing from the stimulation. Wonwoo drags wet fingers up to pinch your taut nipples.

“You’ll let me suck on your sweet tits, won’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You agree immediately, feeling an arousing thrill when Wonwoo lets out a deep groan.

He twists your upper body some more until your back is against the mattress. Your hips are still twisted at an angle so his cock can keep rubbing against your pussy. The position isn’t uncomfortable, and you watch with anticipation as Wonwoo ducks his head to drag his mouth across the swell of your breasts. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on one of your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine.

You grind your cunt down on Wonwoo’s cock, dripping slick all over him. He moans against you nipple as he slowly drags his dick back and forth to stimulate you. The head of his cock leaks precum making your pussy messier and stickier. You drag your hand through Wonwoo’s hair, sighing and mewling as his hot mouth suckles on your hard bud.

“Fuck, just like that!” You mewl, arching your back to shove more of your tit into his mouth.

The next time he catches your gaze, you can see his pupils blown wide and a light blush spread across his face. It’s so attractive that more of your arousal drips onto his cock. Wonwoo then sucks a bruise on the curve of your breast, teeth gently digging into the soft skin. You gasp at the dull ache, pussy clenching around nothing.

“So fucking sweet.” His voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left behind.

You whine and arch up into him more. “S-Shit, Mr. Jeon. This is so fucking dirty.”

He just grins at you wickedly, hips swirling against you so his cock brushes against your throbbing clit. Wonwoo starts to press wet kisses on your tits tenderly, dark eyes never leaving yours. “It is, and yet you still like it. That’s why you’re not trying to be quiet. You want my son to know your little pussy is aching for my cock.”

You moan loudly when he starts to roughly suck on your other nipple. He’s not bothering to keep his own moans quiet as he swaps back and forth between your nipples until they’re both puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further.

“I know you want it, baby.” Wonwoo says after he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your tits. He rubs his leaking tip against your clit to hear you moan again. “Want me to split you open on my fat cock, hm? I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”

“Fuck—please.” You whimper desperately. “Need you to fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Wonwoo, sweetheart.” He groans as he gets up and positions you so you’re fully on your back.

You mewl when Wonwoo rests his dick on your stomach. The sight is dizzying in the best way—an arousing image of how deep he’ll reach inside you once he slides into your pretty pussy. His leaking tip is almost to your belly button, and he wishes badly that he could take a picture. Wonwoo licks his lips as slowly rubs his cock through your slippery folds, covering it with your juices. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine.

You moan when he eases his cockhead past your slick folds. The squeeze of your hot cunt is tight, and it makes Wonwoo roll his hips into yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching pussy.

“Wonwoo!” You mewl, already feeling so full even though he’s not even all the way inside.

Just hearing you moan his name has him thrusting forward and burying his cock balls deep inside your wet pussy with a deep growl. You cry out loudly, tits bouncing at his roughness. Wonwoo’s large palm immediately covers your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.

“Shh, baby. You don’t want us to get caught do you? What would my son say is he walked in and saw his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”

You moan against his hand, pussy clamping down on his dick tighter than before. Wonwoo clicks his tongue, slowly grinding deeper into you. The thought turns him on too, more than he would ever admit.

“Oh? You like that?” He hums as you buck your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. “What a dirty little slut.”

Wonwoo keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt. All you can focus on is how stretched open your pussy feels. You keep whining and moaning as he bullies his cock into your fluttering hole. Even though they’re muffled, the cute little noises you’re making are driving Wonwoo closer to the edge.

“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans. “Feels like you’ve never had a cock this big stuffing your little pussy.”

Wanting to hear you, he removes his hand.

You shake your head before you moan out an answer. “You’re the biggest—fuck—I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo’s cock twitches inside you as he goes to cover your mouth with his. You two share a series of wet kisses between your filthy moans. His thick cock keeps rutting into your squelching pussy and slamming into the spongy spot inside your cunt that makes you keep tightening around him. At this point your mind has gone fuzzy. All you can think about is the man on top of you and the orgasm coiling in the pit of your stomach thanks to him.

In the haze of skin slapping together and the arousing scent of sex, Wonwoo feels like he’s found heaven. He’s absolutely thrilled to have you how he’s wanted since he first saw you. After months of planning, he finally has you trembling on his cock. Wonwoo groans lowly when you squeeze even tighter around him. You whine, moving your hips to meet his thrusts.

Wonwoo smirks when he sees your fucked out expression. He can’t care that his son is passed out downstairs while he’s quite literally fucking his sweet little girlfriend’s brains out. It’s what you deserved after all the hell his idiot spawn put you through.

“Looks like you’re already addicted to my cock, baby.” His laugh is so attractive that it makes your pussy flutter.

A deep pleasure shoots up your spine as Wonwoo fucks you hard and deep, plunging his cock into your sopping cunt. You cry out his name, feeling a pleasure you never have before. His hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit.

“God, sweetheart. Fucking love how your sweet cunt squeezes my cock.” He groans in delight.

Wonwoo’s fingers keep rubbing your sensitive clit until your back arches off the bed. Wet slapping and loud squelching fills the room as the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps. Your legs clamp around his slim waist at the same time your cunt tightens around his dick, milking him for all he’s worth as your arousal gushes around his throbbing length.

“That’s it, baby. Milk this fucking cock.” Wonwoo growls as his hands spread you open even more. “Fuck. I’m gonna fill you with my cum and watch it spill out of your pretty pussy.”

You whine out, wanting nothing more. “Yes! Fill my pussy with your cum!”

Wonwoo growls into your skin, ramming his dick straight into your sweet spot until he reaches his own climax. With a loud moan of your name, he spills his hot cum inside your cunt. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls as he keeps stuffing you full until it leaks out around his cock.

It feels like you’re stuck in a blissful haze, and it’s only until Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you that you come back to your senses. His eyes are dark as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you. It’s an erotic sight, you’re sure, and you can’t help but want more.

“Wonwoo.” Your voice comes out in a sigh. “Think you can go again?”

The older man groans in his throat. You’re insatiable, and so is he. Fuck. He knew you were perfect for him.

“For you? Always.”

Your eyes roll back when the bulbous tip of his length nudges your tender pussy. Wonwoo smirks and presses forward. His aching cock penetrates you in one deep thrust. Large hands hold down your squirming hips as he sheathes his big cock to the hilt. Wonwoo groans when your juices spill around his girth. He leans back and lets a string of spit falls straight onto your pussy. The filthy action makes you moan wantonly.

“Your sweet little cunt is driving me crazy, sweetheart.” Wonwoo hisses as you clench around him.

Your hot cunt is pulsing and soaking his cock as if you’re claiming it as your own. It makes him smirk. Wonwoo keeps pounding into your creamy cunt until only lewd squelching and pornographic moans fill the room. He can’t even think about his son anymore. All he cares about is splitting you open and molding your tight pussy to fit the shape of his dick.

“You just love this cock, don’t you, baby?” Wonwoo moans.

“I do—Fuck. Feels so fucking good!” Your voice is loud, and you’re both beyond the point of caring. “I love your cock. Love how you fuck my little pussy.”

His fat cock is splitting you open deliciously, weeping tip reaching your cervix with every strong pound of his hips. You’re already close again, and you know this next orgasm is going to be more intense than the last. Wonwoo seems to feel it too because he keeps driving his cock into you savagely until your thighs are trembling around him. His cock is piercing directly into your g-spot then drawing out, letting you feel every vein before plowing back into your sopping mess. His rough thrusts never lose their strength or depth. Not when you scream and convulse around his cock.

“God, you’re such a nasty slut.” Wonwoo groans. “You don’t even care that your boyfriend can wake up any moment and find you dripping all over his dad’s cock.”

You manage to smirk at him. “He has no right to be angry. Not when you’re fucking me better than he ever did.”

Wonwoo smirks back at you, thrusting deeper if possible. Your depraved words make a sick thrill shoot straight to his cock. It turns him on more than it should. Dark eyes are glued to your sopping cunt. The sight of you stretching to take his cock is so hot that he almost cums right then.

“Oh my god!” You cry out as your pulsing walls constrict around the dick ramming into you.

You let out a loud cry when Wonwoo’s spit lands where you two are connected. A guttural groan escapes him when your pussy squeezes his throbbing cock and your juices spill all over him. You topple over the edge he’s been pushing you toward, squirting all over his cock and abdomen. Your release covers him, dripping down his cock and to his heavy balls.

“Cum in me!” You plead loudly. “Stuff me full again!”

Wonwoo’s fat cock keeps sliding along your convulsing walls. The tip of his cock slams into your spot unrelentlessly, making you see stars. You keep falling apart as the older man uses your body how he wants.

“Just look at your pretty little pussy, squirting all over this cock like you own it.” Wonwoo’s grin looks wolfish and unfairly attractive. “Now I have to fill your slutty pussy like I own it.”

Wonwoo groans your name deeply. His hips are flush between your thighs as he presses to the hilt, his fat cockhead rutting into your most sensitive spot. Your toes curl tightly as you scream out his name once again. All you can see, feel, and think about is your boyfriend’s dad. His hot cum fills you up, coating every inch of your wet walls, stuffing you to the brim.

The older man falls forward a bit and buries his face in your neck, biting your sweaty skin and fucking his cum deeper into you. In your aroused daze, you can’t recognize how intoxicated he is over the feeling of you and your tight cunt.

When Wonwoo finally he pulls out, his hand lands on your tingling core. He cranes his neck to watch his fingers enter your hole. Licking his lips, he gently fucks his cum back inside you and gently toys with your messy pussy. Growls rumble in his chest as his cum slips out of you and down to your smaller puckered hole. The sight makes his cock twitch and ache all over again.

“My cute little slut.” Wonwoo coos as you slowly start to drift off to sleep. “All nice and bred—just like I’ve always dreamed.”

You look precious while you sleep, and Wonwoo can’t help but feel completely satisfied that he came inside you while you were ovulating. His son was such an idiot for not cherishing you how you deserved, but it was for the best.

Now you were all his. Only his.

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

[acid-ixx]

prequel: again &. again. (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: prequel, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

what hurts more when it comes to neglectful batfam that adopted you after jason's death (that eventually turns a 360 after you have left) is probably the fact that they always had time for you, it's just that they never chose to spend it on you; an extra burden to their family rather than an addition. if they had time to spend, they spend it on anything or anyone else but you. it's not that you don't share interests with them, it's just...! they have way more priorities that push you further back into their list of 'to do's'; though you know you'll always be the last of that list.

bruce has to juggle so many tasks as the billionaire playboy "brucie wayne", a father of an ever growing family, and gotham's dark knight vigilante but somehow, you're aware he could easily fit in one or two more children into his already booked schedule— he just never seems to consider you worthy enough apparently. or maybe it was because you were too silent, you set boundaries compared to your other family who are outspoken about what they want, what they need— but there's one thing for sure that sets you off from your siblings; you're not a vigilante.

you were merely a child of a one night stand; a child raised too well. you were behaved, you never complained, and you were just, you. and being normal (at least in their level of extraordinary talents were you a mere droplet) amongst a family of talented individuals makes you easily a ghost. was bruce to blame with his neglect? definitely. if he was able to balance his life so easily, then maybe as the world's best detective would he notice you packing your things day by day without update. maybe that was why you never once hesitated the moment you stepped outside the manor, permanently.

dick's excuse would always be "sorry, baby bird! but i promised to spar with damian today. ah, but you can watch from the sidelines!" or he would be too busy saving bludhaven to even acknowledge your presence. sure, he smiles at you with those shiny teeth of his, but despite him looking at you, he never notices you for more than a second, right after he would skidadle his way to another sibling's room, bothering them to spend more time with him, never you though. it occurs to you that he has only entered your bedroom once, and that occurrence was years ago. even then, he didn't last a minute inside there before running away once more.

family matters more than anything to dick. hell, he was enraged at the announcement of jason's death and even beat joker to a bloody pulp when he realized tim fell into his hands. he's ready to defend damian, barbara, steph, cass, and duke with his life. it's his duty and obligation as the family's eldest brother, of course. but were you considered family to him? were you considered a sibling in his eyes, or were you just the resident roommate of the mansion? you question that endlessly because everyone, family and friends, seem to be smitted with dick, but you eventually gave up trying to vye for his attention. it's fine, really, if you were just another civilian to him, because he was just another person to you too. just like in a circus, you would always be the intermission rather than the main event. and with that, you take your leave.

jason was the most forgivable to you, second to tim. he was never there, and he would've probably put effort into spending time with you if not for the fact he despises bruce and the mansion and wouldn't and couldn't last a second stepping into it. he never met you when he was robin, it was only right after his death did he discover were you taken in and that added fact alongside tim being his replacement turned him bitter with resentment. though his hatred for you receded over time, he wouldn't really be caught taking a minute with you because he always sneaks inside the mansion and crime in gotham never seems to lessen. because of that, and your unwillingness to become a vigilante to kick ass with him and the others, he wouldn't be able to fully take an hour with you.

casual talks are unavoidable, though, when at the dead of the night he would be caught sneaking in to eat some leftovers and you were conveniently awake at the same time as him. he'll recommend you some classic literature he read or 'cafes/restaurants that criminals visit the least' lists, but before it would turn into a full conversation, jason would already be wearing his signature mask again, and with a pat on your head and a "talk to you soon, can't guarantee it'll be tomorrow again though, only here for alfred's meals of course," and he'll be gone. you shouldn't have let your hopes high, you wished you didn't because, duh! he wasn't there to talk to you, specifically. you were just there to bide his time! wiping tears away from your eyes, and with a heavy heart, you book an apartment away from the wayne manor with your own atm card; hope irreversibly dead and unable to revive a sliver of faith, even if it was dipped in the lazarus pit would it never come back as the same.

tim drake is always tired. just like bruce, his days are filled with investigation, crime fighting, and worst of all; high school. that's of course that least of his worries the moment he drops out. tim was never the guy to talk much. he only does when he needs to make an impression for others, or when he needs to manipulate people for potential information. his life revolved around fighting, from when he solved the case of bruce wayne and dick grayson being batman and robin respectively, up to his current identity as red robin and occasionally robin. he'll often be found in the batcave working with babs on a case or working alone in his room.

it's no mistake that you were the most distant to him, never once knowing about his interests or even hobbies and vice versa. it was a given that at the very moment you pass a glance at him, you knew it was a 'mind your business' type of relationship with him. if you were a mere ghost to dick, then you were just a spec of dust to tim. it was unfair to assume he would never care for you, he does! only in a way where you were another person to save if you ever were endangered, but would that be enough to stalk you to the point he gains every insight about you? not really. you weren't one of his friends, like kon who he would spend weekly video game challenges with; and you probably don't exist as his sibling in his own little world filled with coffee and computers. yeah, your feelings about leaving him weren't as bitter as the caffeine he drowns in his system, but you were still hurt either way.

damian wayne, from his birth, was taught and raised to prioritize his mission as an al ghul, to be the one continuing the legacy and to shed blood on anyone who opposes. when he was given over to bruce, it took a hell lot of effort to turn a new page and become the next robin. it was, with no doubt, that despite his 'redemption', he would be a tad bit crueler to you than the others. unlike tim, who he persistently bothers, you were untalented, worthless, and a stain on the reputation of the wayne's. even jason, his father's greatest mistake, had more value than you.

maybe it was fine-tuned jealousy, maybe he was mirroring his father and dick's actions towards you with his own sick twist of violence. either way, you would rather avoid the boy, lest you face the wrath of his sword. it wouldn't be wrong if you came to hate him, actually you do, but despite your endless game of cat and mouse with you as the unwilling victim of the chase, your poor heart couldn't fathom the thought of not excusing his actions as that of a child's. you tell yourself everyday, 'just ignore it, he was raised like as to be a menace after all' but you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together. the resentment eventually builds up until you blow up and just, give up. within your final moments in the manor, you figured to leave some belongings that you collected overtime that were supposedly memorabilias that you wish to show off to your family. like his pieces of art, you could only explain your life in the family as black and white and as bleak as the streaks of charcoal that rubs against the pages.

when dick was jogging through the desolate halls of the manor, he noticed the place seemed to be more... empty of some sort. and he knows pushing that feeling into the back of his head would only result in more questions than answers. so he decides to enter the spare rooms one by one until he comes across your room (he doesn't know it was yours, though), turning the knob without knocking.

that was when his eyes seem to dilate. his nose catched a faint whiff of bleach (was the room deep-cleaned?), vision seemingly closing in on the few furniture left alongside a diary and other boxes left neatly on your bed, with other smaller trinkets left untouched on your bedside table. he didn't remember you mentioning anything about leaving, hell, he doesn't want to admit his lack of memories about you but—

wait...

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago...?

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this is one of my favorite pieces of writing i have ever done and i like it a lot so i hope whoever reads this likes it too. if you all want to read more of this, then please leave a comment or reblog because i heavily appreciate it and it motivates me further to write this type of content! the reason i have come to a long hiatus is because, as stated, the lack of interaction with content. like i said, i will still write for genshin but i am open to expanding my fandom list. (p.s. i hope you like the way i had to connect their interests or a part of their past to the reader.)

heavily inspired by @klemen-tine's work: Glass Bones and Paper Skin, @gotham-daydreams' work: Not [], and @onmyyan's work: Ain't No Sunshine.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: Another Fern fic at last, requested by a kofi member ^^

Shrinking down to Fern’s side seemed almost fun at first. Getting to save money on food expenses and cuddling with your boyfriend while being the little spoon was great!

It only occurred to you a few hours after becoming a tiny human that you still had to do everything your big self had done before.

Except now you were the size of a pencil.

“Ahh, I still have to write out a report, make my lunches for this week, call my mom, do the laundry-“

Fern watched you panic from his usual spot on your bed, his head propped up by his hands. While you were struggling, he was relaxed and content to have his mate smaller than him for once.

“Calm down, princess. Don’t forget you have me to help. I’ve been this size my whole life, doing your chores can’t be that hard.”

Fern was terribly wrong.

Attempting to type out a detailed report by jumping key to key was exhausting, and after he messed up several times you had to do it alone. It left you too tired to do anything else.

“This would usually only take me 30 minutes, how much time has passed?”

“… three hours.”

You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder as he played with your hair. “How do you do it, Fern? You always seem so happy go lucky, but being small can’t be easy on you.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly. “It’s not easy, but when you’re around it’s hard to be exhausted or angry.”

This made your heart flutter, and you let him guide you to the laundry room.

“My vines aren’t agile enough to help you type, but they can throw laundry into the washer and take them out no problem.”

He used his magic, vines creeping in through your window. They clumsily tossed clothes into the washer, and Fern flew you up so you could select the proper settings.

“Now I need to call my mom and make some lunches… how long will I be like this?”

Fern was too busy soaking in the feeling of you in his arms as he flew towards the fridge to really listen, so it took him a moment to process what you had said.

“… a few hours, maybe a day or two perhaps.”

‘Hopefully longer…’ Fern though, even though he felt guilty for it. Who could blame him? His lover was finally the same size as him, who wouldn’t want this to last forever?

The two of you laughed, both covered in food after struggling to finish packing your final lunch.

“Come, dear. Let’s get cleaned up.”

You sat in the small tub, feeling Fern’s cock twitch as he held you against him. He didn’t acknowledge his erection, a soft pink dusting his freckled cheeks.

“There’s mustard in your hair too, love.”

You pouted at him, feeling Fern’s fingers scrub the mess from your hair. You were glad you had bought such a large tub for fern to use for bathing, it had enough room for the two of you to sit comfortably without being squished.

Again, his erection rubbed against you, a soft hiss slipping from his lips as he clutched your hips. It was clear he wanted you, but was holding back.

“Fern…”

He whimpered when you reached back to stroke his cock, nearly cumming on the spot.

“Mmph! That’s… ahh…”

His hips bucked, a moan leaving his parted lips as he let out a needy whine. Now that you were small, he could truly have you…

Before you knew it you pulled into his lap, straddling him as his cock nudged at your fat pussy. God, he had dreamed of this day…

Getting to watch his cock stretch you out was heaven to Fern. You struggled with his size for a moment, your pussy clenching around him as he rubbed at your clit.

Unbeknownst to you, he had been looking over your shoulder at the smut you read at night, and had learned a thing or two.

As he bounced you on his lap at a steady rhythm, he pulled you in for a kiss, his slipping to the small of your back. You tasted sweet, like the chocolates the two of you ate earlier. He wanted more, so much more…

Cumming deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his seed felt… amazing. Fulfilling. It had to be the best thing to ever happen to him.

You were so beautiful, so warm and tight, he just couldn’t help but spurt thick ropes of hot cum into you, painting your walls and praying that this got you pregnant.

After that, he carefully washed the both of you up, occasionally using his fingers to pump his cum back into you when it started to drip out.

You returned to your full size the next day, but Fern was just happy with the memory of his cock stretching you out…

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

[writeriguess]

Can you do Katsuki x female reader where reader's daughter (who she had with another man years ago, her ex turned out to be abusive) finally warms up to Katsuki enough to start calling him her dad? The girl has traumas about her dad so it's a big step.

author's note: never mind about the GIF library—it only seems to work with certain tags. Katsuki's tag takes 5 minutes to load before throwing me with an error. I'll try adding GIFs to posts that actually load for me.

Piece by Piece

Katsuki had always been patient, in his own rough-edged way. He knew better than to force anything, especially when it came to your daughter, Aimi. She had every reason to be wary of men, of father figures, and he never blamed her for keeping her distance. He had seen the haunted look in her eyes when she flinched at loud voices, how she hesitated before speaking, always gauging if she was safe.

At first, she barely acknowledged him, only ever referring to him as "Mom’s boyfriend" or simply "Katsuki." It stung a little, but he never let it show. Instead, he showed up—again and again. Helping her with homework, cooking meals when you were busy, staying up with her when she had nightmares, and never pushing when she needed space. He wasn’t trying to replace anyone. He just wanted her to know that he wasn’t going anywhere.

There were tough days. Days where she barely spoke a word to him, locking herself in her room, the old memories dragging her down. On those nights, he’d stay up, making sure she knew he was around if she needed anything. Some nights she had nightmares. He heard her muffled cries through the door but never forced his way in. Instead, he left a cup of tea outside her door, a small note scrawled on it: "You’re safe. We’ve got you."

Slowly, she started warming up. Small things—like watching TV in the same room as him instead of avoiding him altogether. Asking him to pass the salt at dinner instead of pretending he didn’t exist. He took every small win, knowing trust took time.

Tonight was no different. You had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day, leaving Aimi and Katsuki alone in the kitchen. She sat at the table, lazily pushing around the remains of her dinner while Katsuki stood at the sink, washing dishes.

“You don’t have to do that,” Aimi mumbled, staring at the soapy water. “Mom’ll do it in the morning.”

Katsuki huffed, rinsing off a plate. “Tch. Ain’t lettin’ her wake up to a mess. She does enough as it is.”

Aimi was quiet for a moment, watching him. He knew that look—like she was debating something, turning it over in her mind. “You always help,” she said finally, almost accusingly.

Katsuki dried his hands and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Yeah. So?”

She fidgeted, picking at the edge of her sleeve. “My real dad never did.”

His chest tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Just let her talk.

“He used to yell at Mom a lot. At me, too.” Her voice was small, but steady. “I used to wish he’d just leave us alone. But when he finally did, I still felt…wrong. Like maybe I wasn’t good enough.”

Katsuki’s hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. The urge to track down that bastard and make him regret every word, every bruise, every scar he’d left on them—it burned hot inside him. But this moment wasn’t about his anger. It was about Aimi.

He forced himself to take a slow breath. “That asshole had nothin’ to do with your worth, kid. He was just a piece of shit who didn’t deserve you or your mom.”

Aimi looked up at him then, really looked at him. “You’re different.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool even though his heart was hammering. “Damn right, I am.”

She gave a small, almost shy smile. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “Thanks, Dad.”

Katsuki froze. The plate in his hand nearly slipped. He turned to her slowly, his throat tight. “What’d you just say?”

She shifted, suddenly nervous. “I mean—only if you want me to call you that—”

He was across the room before she could finish, pulling her into a hug. He felt her stiffen at first, but then she melted into him, clutching his shirt with small hands.

“You’re damn right I do,” he murmured, his voice rough, thick with emotion. “You’re my kid now, got it?”

Aimi sniffled against his chest. “Okay…Dad.”

Katsuki held her tighter, pressing his chin against her head. He stayed like that, letting her feel the steady strength of his arms. After a few moments, she let out a small laugh, muffled against his chest.

“You’re squishing me.”

He grunted but loosened his grip slightly. “Tch. You’ll live.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her expression softer than he’d ever seen. “I think I’m really lucky.”

Katsuki’s throat tightened again, and he ruffled her hair roughly to hide the way his eyes burned. “Damn right you are. Best damn dad you coulda picked.”

She giggled, a sound so rare it made his heart ache. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Yeah, he’d never let her or you go. Not for anything.

[brucedefender4eva]

<1>. <2>. <3>. <4>.

——

Tim: I have never seen you as an obligation- as a means to an end

Bruce: … Neither have I

——

Bruce slowly sipped his chamomile tea. Alfred had somehow noticed his back flaring up and brewed him a nice cup of tea to help with the inflammation. Bruce had asked for extra honey and sugar, which the older man generously allowed.

“I can feel you staring at me, Tim.” Bruce rumbled, taking another slow sip, making sure not to slurp. Both he and Tim hated the sound of people slurping their drinks; it was horrid. “Drink your tea, sweetheart, it’s good for gut health.”

Tim let out a small hum of acknowledgment but didn’t look away, his own chamomile tea going untouched in his cup.

“Switch?” Tim asked, pushing himself up from the couch he was sprawled out on and carefully bringing his full cup to Bruce. “Want yours.”

Without a second thought, Bruce took Tim’s teacup and placed his own on his son’s saucer, grabbing two more sugar cubes and plopping them in the tea for Tim. “Still hot,” Bruce warned, watching Tim as he took a sip and let out a soft hum, making Bruce smile softly.

The two lapsed into another comfortable silence; the only sound audible in the study was the soft clicking of their teacups every time they set them down on their saucers.

“Hey.” Bruce looked up from the newspaper he was absentmindedly skimming, tilting his head at Tim. “Say I love you.”

Bruce blinked but complied nonetheless. “I love you. A lot. I love you very much, Timmothy.” Bruce stated, his face remaining in a relaxed expression.

Tim wrinkled his nose at his Dad using his full name, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks from Bruce being able to say the three words so easily, compared to how it was before. “Ew, you full named me.” Tim pouted, hiding a grin behind his teacup as he heard Bruce chuckle lightly.

“Me too, by the way…” Tim set down the teacup, looking into Bruce’s eyes before shifting them to look at his forehead. Much easier than actually looking into his eyes. “I love you lots, Dad.”

This time, Bruce wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Did your brothers put you up to this?”

Bruce’s voice wasn’t accusing, but then again, it never really is when he talks to his children. He always gives them the benefit of the doubt.

Tim scowled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment bubble up in his chest. “No. Why would you think that, Bruce?”

Uh oh, he was back to being Bruce right now. Bruce let out a small huff of air from his nose and folded his hands over one another. “You and your brothers have been acting… strange. Coming here, to me, once a week and interrogating me over… menial topics.”

“Menial?” Tim’s voice took on a sharp edge once he heard the word. “You made Dick cry and Jason looked like he was in fucking shock. Obviously, those conversations were important.” Tim accused, pointing his finger at Bruce.

Bruce blinked, the only sign that would tell he was surprised by the change of tone. “I did no such thing. I have no idea why that happened, and they refused to tell me. You can not blame that on me, I will not allow it.” Bruce asserted.

“You’re supposed to know!” Tim raised his voice.

“How am I supposed to know when no one will tell me?! You guys always get mad at me for ‘snooping’ or ‘going through your business’ on normal days! How am I supposed to know when it’s appropriate?” Bruce struggled not to raise his voice at Tim. He knew Tim would shut down immediately and this… conversation would devolve into a screaming match that would rival the ones with Dick and Jason.

“You told Jason that you think we hate you! How could you do that?!”

Bruce threw his hands up in the air. Fuck! Not this stupid conversation again. Was this the only thing people wanted to talk about in this household?

“When someone says they hate you, you tend to believe that!” Bruce shouted, immediately regretting the action when he saw Tim curl into himself and his face harden.

Bruce let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair, grateful that he had forgone putting gel into it. He did not need to be overstimulated on top of this talk with Tim.

“I don’t understand why this is a topic of discussion in the household as of late.” Bruce continued quietly. “And I don’t know why you would insert yourself into something like this.”

Tim squinted his eyes, not understanding what the fuck that meant. Before he could ask, Bruce continued speaking.

“Look… I know how this relationship between the two of us officially started. I see you as my son, Tim, one of my own, and I’ll always love you as such.” Bruce reassured, but instead of it making Tim feel better, he felt like he was about to be dropped off into a gaping black hole. “But I know that this,” Bruce gestured between the two of them, “is nothing more than a… responsibility on your part.”

And just like that, the floor was swept out from underneath Tim’s feet.

“What makes you say that?” Tim could feel his lips move and feel the way his vocal cords vibrated to ask the question, but blood rushed through his ears, making everything sound muffled. "What have I done that could possibly make you say that?"

“You came to me because I was a danger to myself, which meant I was a danger to Gotham,” Bruce said matter of factly, like he knew what the fuck he was talking about. “I’m just glad that somewhere along the way you decided to stay with us, even if it wasn’t for me.”

The words leave Tim’s lips before they even have a chance to register in his mind. “But it’s the same for you!”

“The only reason why you took me is because I pestered you so much! And even then, you didn’t want me; Alfred was the one who gave me Robin.” Tim tried to pretend that his voice didn't break in the middle of his sentence, silently glad that Bruce didn't mention it and allowed him to keep his dignity.

Bruce tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, peeling off the flaking paint and ripping it up into smaller pieces. He would run out of paint soon enough if people kept trying to lie right to his face that they didn't hate him.

“You became Robin not just because Alfred gave it to you, but because you wanted to do good. Because you are good.” Bruce let out a small hum. “If I could go back in time, I would change how our relationship started. How everything started.”

“Change how?”

“I would be better. I would show you that I love you.” Bruce nodded to himself, smiling softly as he turned to Tim. “I would tell you it’s okay to hate me, that you don’t have to pretend that you love me. I already know. Everyone hates me. I also hate myself.”

And truly, what the fuck do you say to that?

Because if Bruce could believe something so… twisted, then how could Tim believe anything that this man in front of him was saying?

How could he believe that Bruce truly loved him if Bruce didn’t believe that Tim loved him?

[audisive]

♪ WEST COAST. (💌) – next part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: soap accidentally finds out about simon's girl.

tags: fluff, romance, simon is a big baby !! let us all accept this fact, soap and his assumptions, uh bad jokes, very rushed fic, crack ?, reader can indeed fix simon

Soap isn't sure when his assumptions started, nor is he sure how it got to Gaz and Price himself. 

Maybe it was when he started to notice that Ghost left base whenever he could. (How come ye never leave base? It's a hassle havin' to go back and forth for nothin', Johnny.) Maybe it was the smudged color of red and pink on his balaclava, the lingering perfume on his hoodie, or his new wallet taking the place of one that was once worn out.

"Wha's yer favorite perfume, LT?" "My enemies' sweat and tears."

(It's well-known that despite the fact that Ghost does consider the 141 to be his family, he keeps his personal life very private and away from them. They respect that, in turn, but let's face it, Soap is nosy.)

Really, it was an accident. Soap swears it was!

He just happened to be passing by his lieutenant in the bar where the team had all gone to celebrate a wreck of a mission that they've managed to successfully finish. Truly, it was an accident when his eyes caught a glimpse of Ghost's new wallet, and he really, very much so did not mean to watch a little too long – long enough for it to open and reveal a hefty amount of cash and a small square of colors, barely noticeable. 

Soap's feet move before he could quietly search for more.

"Got a new wallet, aye?" He slides beside the taller man smoothly, just as the Brit had grunted out another order of Bourbon. Ghost hums in acknowledgement.

"Y'got a crush on me or somethin', Johnny?"

Soap chuckles even if the other does not. "A just happened tae see it. Fancy little thing."

It doesn't take long before Ghost disappears into the night, but the Scot swears his pace was a bit faster than usual when he left the awfully-smelling bar, and Gaz would be lying if he said he didn't see the little picture of a pretty bird tucked away in his scarily huge lieutenant's wallet.

It's not that Soap often makes bold assumptions about people and their personal lives, not when they're out of reach from him, but can you really blame him for thinking that the words 'Ghost' and 'girlfriend' do not sound right in the same sentence? Would it be considered an assumption this time if he'd seen the photo himself? Surely, his superior isn't some perverted freak who keeps an image of a breathtaking woman he randomly found in his private items. Uh, he hopes not, at least.

"Bullshit!" is what a drunken Soap yells when the Brit nonchalantly discloses to the team, without hesitation, that he is simply not interested in dating. He spills everything he's gathered in the past few months, from the smallest hints to the biggest; the unfamiliar strand of hair on Ghost's hoodie to the wallet from months ago.

"A'm no crazy!" Soap convinces no one as he's ushered back to the barracks for making such an insane assumption about the lieutenant in his unreliable state. Ghost's lips curl up into a smirk against the cold glass of Bourbon in his hand, sat back and relaxed with his legs spread wide.

Call him a big baby (he is) for making a fool out of his sergeant instead of just telling the truth and bragging about his angel to the others, but can you blame him? He just wants to keep you tucked away in his pocket, away from everyone else. What are you talking about, lovie? 'Course 'm not ashamed of you. You're just too pretty for them, is all. Gotta keep m' girl safe, yeah?

Besides, they don't have to know the way Simon melts into the nook of your neck when he gets home from deployment or know that he uses your lavender-scented shampoo. And no, it doesn't matter that Johnny knows. It's his word against the lieutenant's. He spares his LT and turns a blind eye this once.

When the time is right, Simon is sure to properly introduce his heart to his unspoken family. For the time being, he just wants to keep you his pretty little secret.

    divider by @cafekitsune !

[korilakkumauowo]

𝒜nd there’s no other to blame but . 𝒚ou . ੭

❰❰ batboys yearning for a busy reader ⇆ How their love is like, pre-established 𝑋 ﹔requested, premade AU for everyone, civilian reader ! very soft very cute but also this one are AUs of reader that has a j*b 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 ﹔total is 5.6K and 1K+ each for everyone. 𝑛/𝑎 ﹔hey ... I TRIED to make these headcanons but my hands slipped. you also have a j*b in this one .. also not proofread but i tried ❤️‍🩹 its kind of short but i tried to give dinner im sorry 👩‍💻

richard john “dick” g.

dick g. ⇆ newsie! reader (reader delivers newspapers) (its a fun j*b in this universe) (goated hb gave the idea, I thought it was cute! ><) p.s i had no idea where i was getting at with this one

You bike around the streets of Gotham during early mornings before the heat could go by, the wind blows your hair away to reveal the smile on your face, and he stares at you—he feels privileged from the sight. He sees you handing newspapers, the familiar articles, putting them in certain mails outside of variant shops, to people passing by asking for one—mostly the old people that smile at you the second they yet again encounter you. And it uplifts his deep admiration for you further, because even then, the others could also feel the same radiant ambience you embody, and they too think it is as beautiful.

Though you’re on the bike and riding away, the further you get away from his proximity the further he wants to chase you more, just to atleast get you to notice him. To acknowledge him.

The first very moment he had met you was when you had accidentally slapped him across the face with the newspapers—when he blocked your way by accident.

Not by accident, he just wanted to ask for your number. He didn’t exactly predict for his face to be slapped across by papers

You both meet again; At the corner shop downtown, a cozy coffee house. And he comes up to you, sits on the empty chair infront of you and flashes you a charming smile, and you only nod in greeting. On other occasions, you bump into each other near the streets outside of the W.E coordinators building—he found out the W.E had been offering the newspapers, and it is you to deliver them—you both ended up spending the evening, walking around the park together. It didn’t feel like anything, it just felt like it was supposed to happen.

Since then, seeing each other ever so occasionally (which is starting to get suspicious) didn’t feel like simultaneous occurrences anymore. They just happen to happen.

He had loved you the moment times grew by, fast. Yet steady, when he wants to appreciate and prolong certain moments that playback in his head multiple or few times. Sometimes, he just liked to cherish the time, moment, and place—Maybe even the person who happens to be who he sees when his eyes close and doze off, stepping into a whole new land in his sleep.

He dreams of you.

He sees you but knows you are out of reach, your mind is somewhere else even when his heart is yours. It’s not fair, you get to be somewhere else when all he wants to be is to be somewhere in your head with your heart on his palm—But you never really knew that—and accept all of him that is immediately consumed by you.

The universe wasn’t exactly on his side, a second closer you got the more he realized how distant you actually could be when you had to turn back away. Because you both weren’t exactly something, just yet, but he’s trying.

So all he can do for now is think. Actions, little by little.

He thinks of the color that he noticed had made your eyes perk up a glint with something akin to enthusiasm. All he wants to be, is to be that color if it meant you got to look at him that way. Maybe even stop being an acrobat since he’d been stumbling around and losing balance around you all the time now—it would bring shame to his title.

His life has always been flexible in way, he has had many side jobs before. He decides to catch up with you. You pause and look away from the road, glancing beside you and the surprise is unfathoming. The same man, Richard Grayson Wayne, on his bike—that he had recently just bought at the last minute, that you’ve been encountering more than so much needed—is matching the pace of your bikes together, and it doesn’t make you feel uneasy. Because there are a stack of newspapers on the basket on the front.

He’s joining you.

The love in him ranges in a stretch—it graciously, and smoothly flows out like releasing energy into thin air, it all pours out of him for and to you. He’s not being subtle, the love in him resurfaces in the flexibility of his muscles. He catches you, he holds you close, a hand out for you. He goes through the thick and rough patches so you can go through with your unblemished self. He follows you throughout the streets and keeps an eye closeby, he drops in by your side when he sees you alone at night and there's more than thrill that runs through his adrenaline when conversation goes on—because right now you’re not so occupied, right now, you are with him. Even when he’s presenting himself as somebody you don’t know beneath the mask and suit.

Despite the calm, there can be thrill. His devotion is exuberant. It’s a lavish breeze, a breath of fresh air, but it takes the air out of your lungs when it falls onto you all at once—and it is not bad, it is the rush of excitement that brings to it.

Because suddenly it all happens so fast, the moment a suspicious, lean figure dressed in black had even crossed the same path as you was when Nightwing—somebody who seems very familiar to you the closer you look—scoops you up and within seconds, there is the gush of wind that made you hitch your breath out of instinct and it rushes past you both through the air, you’re all too far gone to even continue the scream in your lungs as you clung onto him for dear life—because you can see the City, the lamp posts, the street, the cars on the road, right below you both as he whips through the air like it’s nothing.

Like you’re not even in his arms. Like your heart isn’t sure whether to be flattered for the save that you didn’t even know you needed, or if your heart should be pondering for a heart attack out of pure panic from the moment.

And you didn’t even notice the abrupt stop the first second, he drops by your apartment all so casually, the logo in his suit is slightly glowing despite the dimness of your balcony. Since when did Nightwing know where you live? 

jason peter t.

jason t. ⇆ librarian! reader (... i thought it was cute again (2))

The library is a nice, quiet, and tranquil place to be. It gives him a sense of belonging—and he knows that this is where his peace could be—where no one can bother to poke you through the skin, there are whispers deep in the depth of himself telling him that he longs to be here until he learns to figure out the vulnerable parts of life.

He was right.

The smell of organic, earthy old papers is what fills his lungs once he opens and goes through the halls and the shelves, but the moment his eyes averted to the sight of you behind your counter—all he can see is you—he took it in selfishly. Maybe he’s not just going back here, back and forth every now and then, just to read a bunch of the books he specifically came up to you for (He knows where they all are, he just wants a walk with you through the shelves, and he buried every moment with you deeply).

In a place full of bricks with papers stacked in a shelf atop each other, scholarly or simplistic—you are the long awaited book filled with pages of layers that he wants to go through, and in every word there is in you, he will remember them.

But these are only fleeting and brief moments he gets to have. The universe tells him it’s so close, but so far.

You’re always keeping yourself busy, nose hooked on the book down your hands (though he knows that’s what reading is supposed to look like), and when you’re not—there is another customer of the day having to dwell on your attention.

It makes his face scrunch in disdain and he all but wants to snark at the laughing silhouette of your shadow. He needs assistance too! Look at him, the book in his hand is upside down. You should come over to his table and read it with him. Or even then, you’re by yourself on your counter all the time going through a paper list or checking in the people’s library cards—whether they’re borrowing or returning.

He decides to seethe over the huge block of half wall between you guys; it is an obvious abstract to bring a physical gap between you both, as though being emotionally afar isn’t enough to torment him in his sleepless nights.

He decides he hates having you right over the other side, he needs you by his side, specifically.

Even your quick and lectured ‘’shh!’’s towards his way, when he’s up and all over your work counter in hopes of striking up conversations, are adored. Or the quick glimpses of your soft smile towards him—before you cover the beauty up with a book that you’re holding, or paper, or clipboard, or God forbid your hand that he yearns to hold with his—are things he takes all too seriously. Makes the spirit in him giddy, and he wants to feel and go deep to more.

You don’t realize that everytime you look his way is like a ceasefire in the conflict of his life. The moment he steps in the library, right there and then you’ll feel a pair of eyes already on your back. There is no closure to this, he wants to keep it going. He wants to prolong, cherish the given times fate brings you both upon. Until, you realize—whether or not you wish for him to persist.

You let him, the day he stayed with you when the sun set. When the night called you off your duty, when he stayed the whole day in the library and had tea—together—with you by the counter. Just because.

It’s late at night, the horizon is through the phase of the moon cycle—and it’s the night that happens to end your shift. If anything, this might’ve been your first ever shift where the night awaits you right by the end—you’ve always taken the day-by duty, but the co-worker of yours was out for something personal. You didn’t ask what.

The heavy gnawing of approval from a somebody you look up to didn’t help that she was a very dear and over-the-age close to being a senior citizen and had given you life changing advice since the very first day of work, had you impulsively volunteering the afternoon duties as her substitute.

You were glad to help, genuinely. But when the dark sky falls in, it only has you thinking of circumstances—Gotham isn’t safe enough to be out alone.

Seeing the peering lamplights of the city streets outside the windows had you quite rethinking back of your choices. That old lady must be quite used to this, and you’re hyping yourself up that if she’d been through this all, alone, then you must be too.

But oh, Jason, it’s a coincidence he’s here too! He didn’t even notice the setting of the sky change over the hours.. time flies by so fast, no?

He offers you a ride home. Insisted, for safety measures of course. The breeze, cold air of the night hits your face, the wind is all too suddenly chilly, but he thinks the feel of your arms around him is thrilling.

The scent of you lingers onto him, and he breathes it in and your aroma quickly consumes over his lungs like no other smoke could. He concludes to himself that maybe you’re more worth being addicted to.

In a way that he’s almost grateful—it’s as healthier than the nicotine that tends to crawl his pleura and the familiar feeling of the clouds that gets pass through to mess with his head—because atleast you make words in his throat stuck like no other could—he’s certainly quiet. But speechless? He didn’t think he’d ever been with the way you do to him—atleast you’re the one messing with his head now, and he doesn’t seem to detest it.

It thumps his heart from each beat—your hand is right by his chest—and he’s hoping you don’t feel the little tiny jumps his heart is doing through his ribs. This might have been the peace he was subconsciously longing for. You, will be his peace.

Imperfections turn faultless, and the love is so full that it makes the heart of a vigilante jump like a mirthful puppy learning its first steps. In the end, he’s glad to come across the Library downtown. It is exactly where he found the peace that he longed to find—the missing piece of himself, where fate spoke to him out loud.

timothy “tim” d.

i admit this one was a bit 😣 Reader doesn't have a specific job here, nothing mentioned. Also lowk stalker Tim but in a cute way bcz he didnt mean to be. i started channeling Shakespeare in the end (i dont get what i said)

Now listen. Him already even showcasing his businesses as the Red Robin—it is already a huge deal and step for him, and you didn’t have to do much for it. He hadn’t meant to put you at risk with these sorts of information, but it slipped out. He can never really pay attention to what he’s saying and thinking when you're right and all he wants to do is get lost in your eyes and let time stop itself.

He wishes it would. He wishes you could stay a moment longer. He wishes you wouldn’t have to be so burdened in your responsibility and obligations anymore. You’re still there, but the paranoia in him is already heading into forward into what time will come.

So as a way to keep an eye on you, he has to outright do just that; He syncs patrols with your schedule. Besides, the obstacle that was probably between you both was you choosing your duties over him. Honestly, you yourself was probably a challenge he wouldn’t be able to get past. He admires the dedication, really, but if anything, it only drove him furthermore. He didn’t mind a little bit of challenge, it just thrills him in the head.

Maybe because he has decided you’d be the perfect fit for a puzzle like him. So, he decides to treat the inkling feeling in his heart with strategies. Seeing Red Robin constantly out your balcony isn’t as alarming as the first times anymore. He seems to sync with you every time, the moment you step inside your bedroom—he is waiting from afar and is lunging forward and dropping down to your balcony. He brings stuff with him; a flower he picked up as the starter, the next day was 2 cups of coffee from the nearby café—just so he could hold onto a conversation with you. He missed your voice. He tracks your shift like it’s his own job to do, he memorizes your schedule just to revise his own to spend the evening with you. The wind catches his whispers of ‘be safe, and goodnight’ when you end up asleep before he gets to you on time.

When he’s really got to go for patrol, he leaves sticky notes outside your balcony with cute little reminders for you. He puts a tracker on your phone, and he has it saved on his comms just to monitor you when he’s far too out of reach. He skims—with dedication and making sure to remember everything—through your government documents and files (though with light intentions, he merely wants to know you better). Failed missed calls on your ends means he’s immediately up and checking your location—failed missed calls on his part never happens, he always picks up at the first ring when it’s you. He sulks when he has to be away for just a little longer than he has to be—he’s suddenly rushing throughout the crime-fighting.

Sometimes, you get home late and a little dazed. From whatever may have happened during your duty—you’d snap at him when you’re far too exhausted and fatigued, and your brain just immediately gets so overstimulated. And he gets you; he doesn’t say anything, just a nod and a silent reassurance as he gives you space and waits—but he doesn’t actually leave, he just silently stands there and waits it out patiently.

Few affections there and then, not very subtle much—couldn’t it have been any more obvious for you?

You are constantly unreachable and occupied, wrapping yourself into these chores. He’s a busy man himself, well sometimes, and he knows what it’s like. He’s sleep deprived himself, and he slips in the room of wherever you may be just so he knows that you are truly still capable of being intact together. You don’t notice he’s been watching your shift from across the street every night—but you feel safe when you’re heading home, no doubt.

You ask for his intentions, he has a lot that he’d been wishing to say;

I’m dropping by just to check in on you. You worry me a lot, stop overworking yourself. You’re doing just enough. I care about you a lot. I think I love you.

He didn’t get a chance to declare any of it, when you had already opened up the door of your balcony and his feet dragged itself in with his mouth sealed shut into a soft smile gracing his face when he finally got a look at you. The lights of the city from outside illuminates your features in the dim lights of the room and he thinks he now might just have to be comfortable with sappy moments like these soon if he wants this to last forever.

Because, God, he really does want it to. If forever meant you.

He had always felt the need to function, not of self worth. Sure. He’s smart, calculating, analytical and intellectual—the brains in him, he thinks, have nothing to offer, but to work his heart out with the functionality of his mind, to pour out what the heart feels with his actions.

He inserts himself in your life but stays out of lane. Your seamless self along with his scarcing history of past lovers keeps him away, they are buried deep and it consumes him—along with the perfection of you—and brings his hopes low and it weighs him down.

As much as the love he has for you holds him whole, it feels as though it holds him on a pedestal in your life.

You are the ideal pattern he takes his time observing, that he now sees in everything of life. He watches, and he decides that heaven must have blessed him for having the sight of the eyes. He listens, and he’s all too grateful for the advantages of the ears—Maybe he’s even glad he exists, just to live the same timelines with you if it means he gets to have the privilege to be in your life—suddenly, life isn’t so bad. Suddenly, it is worthy to let the soul in himself continue on.

duke thomas

duke t. ⇆ boy (him) next door (i swear it was a lot more creative in my head) Apartment complex/condo setting. kind of short im sorry guys heh i kinda dont know how to write Duke but it's fun doing so. I also had no idea where i was getting at with this one (2)

He hasn’t seen you in a while. The only light in his life that he couldn’t compare to no other, the only light in his life he couldn’t predict.

There were times when you’d go out and then he’d take the opportunity to slide to your side as you both converse into wherever your words could get you—since then, you’ve been closer than ever, rather than just a peer in the apartment complex. Other times, he’d be looking out through his window and peeking at his door expecting just a little longer to watch you head out of your room and he’d coincidentally walk out just in time, too. He’d wait.It bothers him truly, but he knows you’re not exactly keeping yourself away from him or anyone—you just had a lot of things in your schedule. But the lack of you keeps him tormented, reminding him of just how far of reach you are to him, despite just living next door.

You’ve always been there. Right across his room in the apartment complex building, you are right there and he is right infront of your doorway—and he’s about to knock, when he abruptly gets a hold of himself at the last second. His fist is already an air away from the door, and he stiffly brings it back down to his side as he bombards himself in the head.

Where had all his daring surge of confidence gone? His words aren’t stuck to his throat, but they are too heavy to drag out on his tongue.

He mutters to himself. ‘I haven’t seen you all week.’ Ah, sounds demanding. Maybe.. ‘Mind catching up with me?’ ..eh, sounds corny. Or maybe! ‘You good? You’ve been cooped up inside that room since.. Last—’

The sudden door infront of him suddenly barges open and he freezes completely still, stiff yet his stance slouches in almost embarrassment as he comes face-to-face with you. And the puzzled look on your face makes him want to slide a sly comment in.

“Duke?” He caught on to your voice, immediately snapping out of it.

“Hey.. uh. I was just about to knock.” His lips quirk up into a timid but sincere smile, bringing a hand up the back of his neck—scratching it to keep his hand occupied and to keep his body moving.

“I know, I saw you through the peephole.”

“Oh.”

That had been the first time he was able to step inside the comfort of your space.

Sometimes, he’d like to just crash inside your abode (with permission of course,) step aside to your couch and just. Stay. Finding the solace in your shared presence. And he starts to look into you more, now that he’s able to be closer than ever. He studies your routine, he memorizes your schedules (They are set up in those sticky notes of your dashboard behind the door) He takes a look into your calendar, set up right at the wall beside your personal desk, and counts down the days of chances when he’d be able to have you for himself. On different occasions, he lingers by you, wherever you may be.

He’s .. starting to think he might be spending more time in your apartment than his own. Maybe being out of the Wayne Manor for just a little while wasn’t actually so bad.

When your duties outweighs your already weary self into a mushed pile of strained burden, he is there for it to be all better. He organizes activities in your room; Late night karaoke in the living room and away from your unkempt desk, multiple sessions of Jinga whilst sat together on the living room floor, the game of cards discarded all over and playful arguments ensues, and heartfelt times of vulnerability when he sees you asleep on the desk—and he is able to tuck you in himself and he gets to cherish the privilege of seeing you this vulnerable.

When he finally gets you out of your shell, he takes you to a simple start. A cup of coffee, together. You’re both sitting across each other from the table, the aroma of the sugary pastries make the scenario a little sweeter, and there are baristas preparing your orders as you both await for the delicacy.

Nothing hits just as hard as the sight of the sunrise glow basking in your way, the golden hue of light reflecting across your skin that it might’ve been the sun kissing you ‘good morning’ from across the sky. He imagines cliché occasions—of you both together—similar to that. He would’ve been doing the same. Nothing can really dim you out of his life, even the daylights and the beams of the sun know where to find you.

The purpose of the existence of light would’ve been because he needed to see you in his life. He might have the ability to bend the bright lumiscene, but this certain glow infront of him is something he yet has to fathom and cannot manipulate—because this time he will be genuine, and maybe fate can bend it to something it is meant to be—and this gift from the sun is something he could get familiar with.

And so he stares, and he is enamoured. Enamoured, and he cannot look away. He takes this slow to savor every temptation of fate and coincidences. A label in a relationship wouldn’t be able to define the title you hold over him. If he is Duke, you will be his Duchess–his Queen. And even then, he swears to keep it that way, because he had always known that love would be his stability despite the ruckus that may occur in Gotham’s streets.

He’s kind of glad he skipped Patrol for times like these. Bruce can give lectures later.

damian al ghul w.

university au, summer immersion, MD! Damian, BSN! Reader. Kind of ooc..? But i love me some soft dami idcidcidc. prob also doesn't make logical sense; i know nothing about what happens in university i js asked from my sister about her summer immersions ANYWAYS ... !

Despite also wanting to be independent of your sense of individuality, he always seemed to be..just there. Damian thinks he might be a little bit too intrigued by you, there’s no other way or explanation for his sudden behavior. Have you forgotten your kit again? You can take his. Even if the consequences would give him another extension for the summer immersion. Printer in your house broken? Oh, he already printed another copy of his notes for you! You have nothing to worry about. Oh, you’ve run out of gauges and sterile gloves.. He’s got plenty more anyways.

(The next day, there is a box of supplies handed out to you.)

He likes the look on your eyes when you take a moment to admire the small little pointless sketch—finally glancing away from your textbook, and he sighs in relief yet there is another feeling of anxiety that crawls on his skin when he imagines you looking at him like that, the glint of earnest in your eyes—the whole anatomy of the rib, with the names of each fragment there is to name, mind you. And ever since then, he doesn’t seem to mind it anymore whenever you try to attempt and peek over his shoulder to glance at whatever impression his pencil could be gliding across the paper for.

Ever since then he started giving you his personal notes in each lesson—the detailed, comprehensive, and precise depictions of each anatomy he drew during the lecture hours, the long and well-researched studies in each lesson the professors had yet to instruct. Sometimes, he had even predicted the on-coming examinations and gave you his analysis beforehand.

He had wanted you to feel almost well provided, even through the busy schedules the academics could ever overwhelm you with, let his subtle sentiments engulf you further until you forget about the worries altogether. He had seen how serious and far-reaching you are for your future, and if anything, that—had really meant something for him. It was admirable, it was the commitment you had with yourself, that had him wanting to reach out for a chance—for the same significance to be in your life. Maybe he just wants to feel important, in the consistency of morals, in your eyes.

There were times where you two had barely talked during a period, when the academics were too much to bear, and so you both secluded into the quietness. He didn’t complain, he liked the fact that he had gotten the opportunity to even be in your circle, even when it is silent.

He’s rather quiet, but at times when he wants your attention, he likes to subtly hint at you with his interesting choices—“When an octopus is stressed, it may eat its own arms.” He said out of the blue, glancing over to you, applying your sticky notes on your textbooks. He sees the slight quirk of your lips, and he wants to say so much before, but his eyes avert away before he could stare any longer, he does not want to look like a fool.

He said it with purpose, because he had seen you fussing over your own grades. It is nothing of the ordinary, he is here willing to provide you with so much more than that. And he wants to assure you—He loves your face very much. He could hold your cheeks on his palm and press a gentle kiss to your forehead if it meant for your head to clear up, if he wasn’t so afraid. But even from how much he adores your beauty, he still dislikes the look of distress on your face; anything that discomforts you, he wishes to perish them himself—but he cannot perish you when you do that to yourself.

Even when both of your courses were distinct, the academic pathways were similar, sometimes, your classes tend to overlap with his—because why is there an MD student at the BSN..? Maybe he’s just that good to be able to get inside two of the course lessons.

The classes were over, but extensions and summer immersion were right out by the corner of your schedule. And out of all people, Damian’s schedule is overlapping yours again.

( His line up was a fraud. He interchanged timetables with another student—your supposed peer for the whole immersion, operations and all—and had personally came up to the Counsellors for his way. With that, you’re both paired, just as how it should have been in the first place. )

And, just like that, It’s hell week; Immersion. It didn’t help that the unflattering heat of the summer had been taking a toll for everyone. The hospital, frankly there just for professional practice, had surely been engulfed by air conditioning since the early dawn.

Damian’s merely here for the trial and error—you’re well aware that he can be infuriatingly, exemplary, best of this. You’re here for an actual practice. Seriously, how does he already know what to do with everything? Ever since the starting of semester. You can’t help but be suspicious, maybe even a little bit envious of it. But you have nothing against him—not when he begrudgingly helped you throughout the year. (He just wanted to be nice. Maybe he’s even participating in the Immersion Program just so he could be your mentor all the way throughout.)

Every room in the medical institution has the same aroma—scents of isopropyl alcohol, antiseptic, and disinfectant. You can even smell the baby powder cologne of some employees that pass by close enough. The scent of baby powder seems to be very convenient in places like the sanitarium, so you decide to give it a try yourself.

He notices the moment he steps by your side, like he always does the first thing he gets here. He sees you staring down at your clipboard—eyes probably scrutinizing the tasks you’ve been assigned to on your checklist—and he eyes you down. You feel it.

“You reek.” You turn to him, puzzled and mildly offended. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off. “—of talcum powder.” His eyes stare you down shallowly, but his heart swells at the foreign scent of something chaste on you; it fits you, really.

You nod. “Yes..baby,” you paused, for no reason whatsoever–you just found your voice stuck, probably from the piece of toast you ate just from minutes ago, and his brain short-circuits at what he had just heard. You cleared your throat, “–powder.” You finished it off, before turning away to head towards your designated area.

Oh. He feels himself wanting to shrink into a small ball of utter humiliation. He thought you had just called him—nevermind.

During duty hours, he does end up sticking right by you. Like a pair, and it looks really like convincing for the patients for a Doctor in training with a Nurse in training together side by side—really. He never really seems like he’d walk away any time soon—because, he has the schedule folder of both your designations and updoings, he can plan all things thoroughly, he knows what to do, but for a pair to work; he needs you just as much as you need him, and you basically just outright give his plans a feedback of your own—and he listens. And follow what you tell him to do. He’s already following you around all day at the medical institution like a puppy.

When there is an operation in the room, you are both intended to watch and observe as the professionals handle and perform their function.

Sometimes, you are both at action too. Only from a limit. He practices on a just mildly injured patient, and you give him the scrapes and tools that he asks for when he switches up to a new pursuit at task—your finger brushes along his as you pass him the bandage scissors, and he longs to feel a little more. You don’t notice, first to pull back away and he turns away to brush away the swell of his heart.

Every fleeting moment of brief skin-to-skin makes his skin adust, it burns and leaves an imprint of warmth from you—it doesn’t seem so bad, you’ve already had the right to leave parts of you onto parts of his the very moment the tingling twinge of weakness had hit him. Be it merging or molding yourselves into one, he’d prefer that anyway, he cherishes anything and everything from you.

The pursuit of his dream might’ve been his very first purpose—to heal, to save, and bring back somebody’s life that he felt like he needed to do, what his youth would’ve wanted—to be here, but he’s starting to think that you might’ve been the reason he could be here.

When the job is over and the dismissal of the Counsellors are announced, he stands beside you and hooks his pinky finger with yours, and he feels a little proud—when away from the prying eyes of everyone, he places his adoration into the kiss of the back of your palm, It overflows from your hands like it shouldn’t, and he wants you to hold it all for yourself now that you have his heart.

𝑛/𝑎 ﹔SO.. what do we think about ittt eehqhqhqhaahh hdhahehhe hehheheh ahhshh GUYS ! THIS TOOK A WHILE TO POST i was really booked and busy AND i was slacking off a lotttt BUTBUT i was writing drafts on my overheating half dead laptop with sims 4 in the background (its just overreacting) at the car during vacay, yolo✌️😇 xx

best regards all rights reserved. ©𝐤𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐤𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐨𝐰𝐨

[milatiny-xx]

promise | k.ys

pairing: kang yeosang x gn!reader summary: your childhood best friend accidentally admits that he's been secretly in love with you for many years and just recently got over it. at least, he thinks so. you want to put that theory to the test. warnings: best friends to loversss, mutual pining, fluff, make out!! make out!!, fade to black!! wc: 2.1k a/n: yeosang's biceps. send post. x

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

You giggle as you throw back another shot of soju, wincing when you put the glass down.

"Ach, this stuff is terrible," you whine. "Next time, I'll buy the booze."

Yeosang laughs, placing the bottle back on the coffee table.

"Be my guest," he replies. "That one was expensive."

You're both sitting on the floor with a box of half-eaten pizza beside you and a mostly empty bottle of soju. Having been best friends since childhood, you and Yeosang try to meet up at least once every two weeks to hang out. You order food, get drinks, and watch a terrible drama neither of you have seen before. You have to give Sangie a lot of credit—despite his crazy busy schedule with ATEEZ, he always shows up to your friend dates and never, ever cancels.

"What are you complaining about? Surely, you can afford it."

"Ah, right. Because I'm a big time idol."

You nod, pursing your lips at him to say duh.

"Yeah, exactly. Even though you don't act like it."

He reaches for the bottle to pour you both another drink.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sitting here with me devouring greasy pizza and throwing back liquor while we watch one of the most horrendous movies I've ever seen in my life. It's just not how I imagine idols acting."

He hums in acknowledgement. His eyes slide from side to side as if he were looking for spies before he leans in toward you. You raise your eyebrows but follow his lead.

"You do know we're still humans, right?" he says, voice low. You scoff, playfully slapping his arm. "Besides, I would never give up this time with you."

Your heart lurches, his sweet words dripping like honey. On the one hand you love when he says things like that to you—it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like you're special to him. On the other hand, it's usually followed with the most intense emotional pain you've ever experienced when you remember that he's saying it to you as a friend.

"Give me that," you gesture to the soju. "And tell me something."

"Tell you what?"

"I don't know. Something personal, something secret, something nobody else knows. Here, I'll go first. Ummmm," you study the ceiling as you think. "Ah, I know! When we were in third grade and that stapler disappeared from Mr. Wan's desk, Ha-joon got in trouble for it. But it was really me, and I let him take the blame because I didn't want them to call my mom."

Yeosang's mouth drops open, amusement flooding across his handsome face. He laughs, covering his mouth with his hand—an adorable habit that you've noticed he has.

"Ha-joon wasn't allowed to go to recess for three months after that. How can you live with yourself?"

You shrug, slightly embarrassed.

"It's not easy. Your turn."

He hums to himself as he thinks. His eyes catch yours for a fleeting second, and you can tell that he's got an idea.

"Well...there's one thing I can think of."

You tilt your head, interest piqued.

"Yeah? What's that?"

Yeosang's eyes sparkle. A sweet grin spreads across his face as he drops his head sheepishly. He chuckles, a deep rumbling noise that raises goosebumps on your arms. You can't help but giggle.

"What?" you ask, playfully smacking his arm. "What are you laughing about?"

He shakes his head, his long bangs falling into his eyes. Your heart flutters as you appreciate how gorgeous he is. A slight pink flush spreads across his sharp cheekbones.

"It's...ahh, no, it's too embarrassing."

"Oh no. No, you can't do that, Sangie. Now you have to tell me."

He hesitates for another moment. You bend forward to lean your head on his shoulder and wrap your hands around his bicep. Ignoring the sensation of your stomach flipping, you peer up at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

"Pleaaaaaase," you whine. "Tell meeee."

He laughs again and drops his head toward you.

"You're gonna think I'm pathetic, but I sort of...well, I used to sort of be in love with you a little."

You cackle, assuming he's playing a joke on you.

"Yeah...right."

"No, I'm serious."

You quirk an eyebrow.

"Mhm, this coming from the same boy who refused to kiss me when I asked him to on the playground. You remember, don't you?"

His eyes go wide, and he points accusingly at you.

"You mean when you assaulted me?"

You gasp, shrieking and grabbing onto his hand.

"I did not! I did not assault you. We were playing tag, and you got me out. And I was sooo mad. I hugged you tight and said I wouldn't let you go until you made up for it by giving me a kiss."

"Yeah...and then you physically grabbed my face and made me do it."

"You still did it!"

"Of course I did it. I wanted to kiss you, I was just embarrassed."

You shake your head, folding your arms over your chest to fake pout. A few moments of comfortable silence pass, during which you decide to poke the bear a little more.

"I don't appreciate you making fun of me, though," you say. "I thought you had something serious to share."

He looks at you, smile dropping.

"Oh, I am serious."

Your grin falters, and you sit up straighter.

"What?"

"I wasn't joking, Y/N. I was being serious. I think I was sort of in love with you. For a long time, actually."

You can't help yourself—a laugh slips from your lips. A second after, you gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. You can feel burning spreading through your face and neck.

"See! I knew you would laugh! This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

"That's because it's ridiculous," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

"Well, don't even worry about it," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm not anymore, so we're all good."

Your heart drops. Why did you say that? Why did you make fun of him? He gave you the absolute perfect opportunity to tell him how you really feel, how you've really felt all these years. And you absolutely threw it away like trash. Then again, he just admitted he's not in love with you anymore...you wonder what happened to change his mind. Maybe it's for the best that you don't say anything.

"Why would you be in love with me, anyway?" you reply. "I'm just a regular person."

"What? What do you mean? Why wouldn't I? It makes perfect sense when you think about it."

"How so?"

"We've been friends for so many years. We understand each other better than anyone. We make each other laugh. Besides that, you're kind and funny and smart. And, of course, you're beautiful."

Your heart is pounding in your chest now. Hearing him call you all of those wonderful things and the way he thinks of you, how much you mean to him—you've been dreaming of hearing that for years. But you want him to mean it. You need him to mean it.

"Oh...I guess it does kind of make sense."

The corner of Yeosang's mouth quirks up but flattens back down a moment later. You both drop your heads and silence settles between you. The tension and awkwardness grow with every passing second. You gulp and sneak a peek at him. He's absentmindedly playing with his fingers. The veins in his hands flex with every movement, and your stomach churns in response.

"A you sure?" you blurt, pasting a mischievous smirk on your face.

"Hm?"

"Are you absolutely, positively sure that you're over me?"

He looks at you, eyes widened. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze searching yours.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

"Hmmm, I'm not convinced. Maybe we should...I don't know...test it?"

Yeosang straightens, tossing his head to shake his hair from his eyes. His stare is glued to you.

"How would we do that?"

"Oh, I have an idea."

Your heart races as you position yourself across from him. You sit on your knees, your gaze flicking between Yeosang's eyes and lips. You start to shift forward, bracing yourself by putting your hands on his thighs. His chest rises and falls rapidly. Gulping, you tilt your head.

You pause right in front of him, your eyes rolling to the side to meet his. Your breath shakes. Under the soft glow of the lamp, you can see that his eyes are dilated. You drop your stare down to his parted lips and lean forward slowly.

Yeosang remains still as a statue when you press your mouth to his. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, the muffled sound of your racing heart echoing in your ears. When you pull back, your gaze returns to his. He holds your stare for a moment and then it all moves so fast.

His eyes drop to your lips, his hand slides across your neck and onto the back of your head, and the next thing you know, he's pulling your mouth to him.

He kisses you. Hard.

Your fingers dig into his strong thighs as you teeter forward. He angles his head to reach you deeper, his lips slipping between yours over and over and over again. Carried away by the moment, you swipe your tongue over his lower lip. He chuckles into your mouth, the sound low and gravelly. Goosebumps raise on your skin. He opens his mouth for you, and his free hand wraps around your arm.

You yelp when he jerks you forward. Your chest hits his with a thud. His hands are quick to curve around the backs of your thighs, maneuvering you onto his lap. Now straddling him, you wrap your greedy little fingers around his biceps.

He tilts his head back, giving you a different angle to taste him. You drop your hips, sitting yourself on top of his body. His fingertips dig into your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your ass.

You slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, frantically tugging it upward. He lifts his arms, and you pull it off. You bite your lip at the sight of him, skin smooth and muscled. Your hands move to his body like a magnet, and you whimper as you run your touch over his chest and stomach.

His lips attach to your jaw, trailing down to your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your head falls back, mouth dropping open shamelessly. One of his hands slides onto your back to support you while he attacks your throat. His tongue licks stripes over your skin. He pulls at the hem of your shirt, shoving it aside to reveal part of your shoulder. A moan escapes your lips as he sucks on the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. You can't help your hips as they shift on him. He grunts, his lips slipping from your neck.

Your eyes flash open, meeting his immediately. His chest heaves as he looks up at you, eyes blown wide.

"I thought I was over this—over you,” Yeosang says, voice rasped. He smirks. "But I'm not."

He surges forward, flipping you so that you're on your back on the floor with him on top of you. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist to draw him closer. He responds by resuming his work on your neck.

You obediently tilt your head to the side to give him unrestricted access to your skin. Your touch snakes onto his back, fingertips tracing the chords of his muscles as his body expertly shifts above you. One of his hands slips onto the outside of your thigh, holding your leg against his hip.

"I'm in love with you, too," you blurt, out of breath. "I think I've always loved you. When I made you kiss me on the playground...since then. Every hour of every day."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating with heat against your neck.

"The kiss was that good, huh?"

You giggle, punching his arm, but inhale sharply when he catches your skin between his teeth. Your palms greedily slide over his skin in response.

"You've gotten a little better since then," you say teasingly. "And bigger."

He laughs again, freeing your neck. He braces himself on one arm as he looks down at you. You squirm underneath him as his glazed-over eyes size you up.

"Is this real?" he mutters.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I've dreamed about this for years, wondering what it would feel like."

"What what would feel like?"

"Loving you fully. Having you love me back. It doesn't feel possible."

Your heart aches, swelling with affection. You reach up to cup his cheek, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"It's real, Sangie. From now on, as long as you love me, I'll love you back. I promise. Do you promise, too?"

You hold your hand out, pinky outstretched. He chuckles but hooks his finger in yours. You curl your digits together, interlocking them firmly.

"Promise."

taglist: //

[tetsvya]

blanket hog, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro is a blanket hog, plain and simple.

➼ pairing! timeskip!kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

➼ warnings! none, this is pure fluff

➼ word count! 1.1k

➼ author’s note! erhm, hello! found this half-written piece i wrote last summer and finished it up. enjoy :p

"Tetsu," You hum out softly, pointer finger jabbing into the meat of said man's arm for the umpteenth time. As expected, Kuroo doesn't so much as move a muscle. Huffing quietly, you lean back onto your calves, knees digging further into your side of the mattress that you share with the insufferable man who currently lies with his back towards you. Eyes moving past him to get a glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table, you realize that after having completed your night routine and spending a good ten minutes attempting to wake up your boyfriend, a new day has begun, and god, are you tired. So despite knowing it's most likely futile, you give one last call of your boyfriend's name. He remains asleep, or what you personally believe to be a pretense of sleep. And normally, you'd simply leave him to his own devices. But there was one issue.

He's hogging the entire comforter. And the room is freezing.

But you also know what he's doing. Kuroo has always been a provocative man, living for the thrill of riling up others - dishing out teasing remarks and displaying mischievous behavior. And you have a suspicious inkling that this is most likely your "payback" for not coming to bed earlier with him when he had asked you to, instead opting to tell him you'd join him later. He had insisted on you coming with him, but all you could do was offer him a chaste kiss on the cheek before bidding him a good night. And so he went, sulking all the way. However, you really couldn't be blamed. You had been sent home with a ridiculous amount of paperwork, and since it was your Friday, you had wanted to knock it all out tonight so that you didn't have to fret about it on your days off from work.

Still, in Kuroo's deluded mind, it was probably considered an unforgivable betrayal.

Thus, this was him "getting back" at you. But unfortunately for your boyfriend, you are anything but compliant. So instead of playing into his antics, you kick your legs out from under you, so that you're no longer sitting on your knees, before settling back into your spot of the bed, albeit a bit further from Tetsurou than normal. And instead of trying to tug the blanket out of his hold, you merely curl up into a ball, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them in an exaggerated attempt at conserving your body heat.

Because you know your boyfriend. And you've been with him long enough to know that he can never keep up with his antics for too long, especially not at the expense of you. The sight of you, cold and curled up in the bed, would surely be one to tug on his heartstrings. The thought alone makes a smile curl onto your face, and it widens even more so when you feel just the slightest shift of movement coming from the other side of the bed.

You knew that little shit wasn't sleeping.

Still, you refuse to acknowledge him. Instead, you remain curled into yourself, deciding it's your turn to feign sleep. Eyes fluttering shut, you school your features into a passive one. Moments pass in silence, and in all honesty, as each one ticks by, you find that you could probably slip into true slumber at any second, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you and settling deep into your bones. Blanket and Kuroo be damned.

Just before your body fully gives way to its fatigue, arms are suddenly slithering around your waist and gently pulling you back, until your back is pulled flush against Kuroo's chest. A wave of warmth rushes over you when you feel the plush material of the comforter you share with your boyfriend being draped over your body, along with the combined warmth of his body heat. As a result, your limbs slowly retract from your body, legs and arms straightening out as you practically melt into the warmth that's now engulfing you. You nearly miss the quiet huff of air that comes from behind you as your body grows more lax. But your ears pick up on it, and the smile that has been playing at your lips since you first felt Kuroo's touch on your skin grows tenfold. 

He couldn't even last two minutes.

"You're so mean," Tetsurou's sleep-ridden voice vibrates against the shell of your ear, soft lips brushing against the skin there with each word being spoken. You won't admit it but the soft touches have you melting back against his chest.

"Says the one who was going to just leave me out in the cold."

A huff slips past Kuroo's lips, but still, his arms tighten around your waist.

"You deserved it," Came Kuroo's childish retort and you can practically hear the pout on his lips as he speaks.

An incredulous laugh slips past your lips, and you twist in his hold so that you can meet your boyfriend's gaze. He's pulled you so close to him that your nose nearly bumps against his when you resettle, and just like you predicted, his lips are turned down into a small pout.

"And why exactly do I deserve it, pray tell?"

"You wouldn't come to bed with me." His pout deepens, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop the laughter that is bubbling in your throat and threatens to slip past them.

"Aw, my poor baby." You coo instead, fingers reaching out to give his cheek a pinching little tug. He's quick to swat your hand away but he doesn't let you pull away, instead threading his fingers through yours and letting your conjoined hands fall against his chest. The action has your teasing tone slipping away, and a more sincere gaze replacing your prior mischievous one as you peer up at your boyfriend. It's not hard to notice the small bags he has forming under his eyes, faint hues of blue and purple beneath them acting as a testament to his own demanding workload and exhaustion. Frowning slightly, you reach out with your free hand to push some of the hair off his forehead, touch featherlight and gentle as you take him in, "Well, I'm here now."

"Yeah, well, it's too late." Kuroo huffs out, as if he's not currently entangling his legs with yours and tugging you even closer to his body, free hand guiding your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

"Oh, yeah." You roll your eyes in response, but there's a content smile playing at your lips as you feel the soft kiss he presses to your forehead, "Definitely too late."