#(and just be in a better mood anyhow)

[phioneplatinum]

despite how bad my mental state is lately, it still manages to conjure up funny things

(flashing lights warning!!)

[sparrowstarsandsorrow]

No internal monologue, just the Top Gun anthem on repeat

[cadwo]

Thought I would be responsible and apply for healthcare coverage but goddamn man like, my fucking go d

[matrixbearer2024]

Hi!!! I love your Get Off My Screen series so much! I was wondering if I could do a request for that?

Basically the idea is that Vox and the reader are just texting at night maybe and he lets something slip about something he misses from his old life on earth and because of that the reader remembers that the person they’ve been talking to for like over a year by now probably used to be alive and just spends the whole night learning everything they can about vox when he was alive (I imagine this would happen whilst vox was asleep and we’re just googling him) and then maybe I feel like we’d also google Alastor as a joke to see what all the fuss is about and then we find out that the person vox is ~~crushing~~ hating on is a serial killer and then just telling everything we learned when he wakes up.

Sorry if that’s really long I just fell like this is 100% what I would do in this situation

Old Times Gone By

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I'm so glad you guys are requesting scenarios within the series, heck- I'm glad y'all enjoy it this much already hahaha! This is somewhat of an aftermath to the "You Could Do Better(With Me)" which is why it's not as cheery as the other chapters- but it's definitely not straight up angst. Just vulnerability and late night chatting between friends. Haha "friends"- And as always, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and happy reading!

A/N: Again, I kind of deviated from the prompt a little to better fit the narrative but Reader does know about Alastor and who he is because of Vox's ranting. They're aware that her demonic crush has a weird obsession with a cannibalistic radio serial killer deer dude and it's still not the weirdest thing he's done so far HAHAHAHA

If there was one thing Vox had to say he hated about drinking-

It had to be dealing with the hellish hangovers come morning.

Especially when he'd been wasted the night before.

A sharp jab in his side caused him to wake up this time.

He grunted, nearly falling off his chair when he shifted ever so slightly.

Huh-

Wait, why was he in here???

He could feel the migraine start to pound in his head.

Vox wasn't looking forward to today already.

When he tried to stand up, a clink of a bottle made him look down by his feet.

Picking it up to give the darn thing a once over, he scoffed.

He must have been absolutely hammered to have finished this yesterday.

It was a brand he despised the taste of too.

"Vox-? Oh, you're up."

His head whipped around so quickly once he heard your voice.

When had he even connected to your TV?

Not that he complained, he managed to see you sat up on the couch and stretching.

Your hair stuck up in odd positions and you even looked to be half-awake.

Why was that fucking cute???

"I- mhm. I guess I am. Was I... drinking yesterday?"

"I don't really know, I just knew you were drunk out of your mind last night. I can only see your face remember?"

"Ah... right."

Vox couldn't really bring himself to say much this time, not while he was still trying to grab the bits and pieces of his memory on yesterday's events.

Did he really wander into the monitor room just because he missed you?

That was low, even for him.

"Good morning anyhow, not that I think it would be if you're dealing with a hangover."

Vox just chuckled, watching you get up and disappear from the TV's view.

He wasn't in any mood to work at all, especially when he had a shitty headache to deal with too.

Eh, his empire could last a day without him.

He notified his secretary to just cancel all his duties and appointments for today, just ignoring their panic as you returned back into view.

"What are you holding?"

"Coffee."

"I thought you said you hated coffee?"

"Not hate, I just don't prefer it. But I need the caffeine to function today and I'd rather drink this bean juice than those energy drinks."

Vox wouldn't admit it, but talking to you again was already starting to make him feel a little better.

Especially after your noticeable absence.

He'd rather die again that outright say he missed you, his pride wouldn't allow it.

Cracking his joints, he just watched you sleepily stare up at him from where you sat on the couch.

Granted, it was probably because your TV was probably perched higher or on a shelf.

But Vox still thought you were kind of short.

Not that he had the right to say anything-

He was a 7ft tall giant compared to you.

"Again with the bean juice thing, and what's wrong with energy drinks?"

"They taste like straight up chemicals."

Vox just gave you a weird look when you rolled your eyes at him.

Still you just kept talking to him inbetween taking sips of your hot beverage.

"I'm not surprised you enjoy them, but your palate is probably shit."

"Oh you do not wanna go there-"

"What if I do huh? Watcha gonna do about it?"

Vox just grinned, you getting up to move closer to the screen as you challenged him.

The wide mischievous grin on your face mirrored his own and you both quickly devolved into just either bragging about exotic foods you've eaten-

Or straight up going for the jugular about each other.

"You eat McDonald's daily? I can't believe you'd feed yourself garbage Vox-"

"It's not garbage, and don't act like you've never eaten fast food."

"You are what you eat, I guess!"

"Ohoho! You bitch!"

Vox didn't seem to mind the numbing headache he felt when you were back to being your animated rambunctious self.

He wondered if it was because of the caffeine that made you all hyped up but he couldn't really bring himself to give a shit.

Not when he was still pretty tired.

It seems you noticed his retorts weren't making their usual mark though, and you crossed your arms over your chest while leaning towards the TV screen.

Vox just narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, what were you doing?

"You my good sir, need a hot cup of coffee more than I do. And freshen up while you're at it, I need to go take a shower too anyways."

You-

You did not just do what he think you did.

Were you actually mothering him??

Vox just rolled his eyes at your words, not really intending to go until he realized you weren't budging an inch either.

"Didn't you just say you needed to go clean up?"

"Not leaving till you are."

"Stubborn much?"

"Not that different from you, no."

The tech overlord laughed at your insistence, eventually relenting and disconnecting himself from your devices.

He stretched again when he got up from his chair, picking up the empty alcohol bottle near his feet not intending to clutter up or dirty his workspace.

Vox perked up when his phone buzzed though.

The darn thing catching his attention before he forgot it was there.

He checked on it with his free hand, chuckling when he realized it was just a message from you.

"Go and freshen yourself up, get a cup of coffee too while you're at it. I'll be back soon, kisses!"

You almost caused him to break his phone from the grip he had on it.

Kisses???

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!

Vox seriously stood there staring at his phone for a good ten minutes just buffering and rebooting-

Dude is actually broken the second you do literally anything with vaguely romantic undertones.

Still he stomps all over his own hopes and feelings in fear of misinterpreting your friendliness.

Yeah, both of you were fucking clueless.

You stayed true to your word and did eventually come back after you'd cleaned yourself up.

Vox had just been waiting on your TV again and the screen brightened slightly upon noticing you.

It was a subconscious reaction, don't bring it up or he'll definitely throw a hissy fit.

So that's what you both did the whole day, talking and just catching up.

While Vox did mention you skipped classes for the day, you just shot back that he threw his work to the backburner as well.

Not that he bothered to refute it, instead just moving on with the conversation like normal.

Hours passed and time flew.

Before you knew it, the both of you were talking well into the evening.

"And that's kind of the reason why I think spaghetti is superior to penne."

"Doll, they're straight up just different kinds of pasta."

"The fact there's different kinds of pasta mean that people clearly can't decide on a superior noodle shape."

Yeaaah... your conversations kind of stopped making sense an hour ago.

Not that either of you minded, even laughing about some stupid thing way into the AM.

"So like- he thought he was really some hot shit taking on the leader of the exorcists but he got his ass absolutely handed to him!"

"Bro almost got turned into demonic venison HAHAHAHA!"

Though of course, late night conversations always went deeper than those normally held within the day.

"Say... Vox?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you miss being alive? With, ya know- talking to me and all."

Vox paused slightly, it's been a long time since he reminisced of his living days.

When was the last time he even did?

"Not necessarily, I miss some things but not a whole lot."

"Like what? When did you die???"

"Hm... I don't remember the exact date, but sometime in the fifties?"

Vox recoiled when you just gawked at his screen, why did you react like that?

"Holy shit! You're fucking ancient!"

"Haha... very funny doll, I'm not that old! I died in my thirties."

"Ehhhh? You're not much older than I am then. How??"

"Don't remember, it was a long long time ago."

You made a weird face at him, to which Vox just smiled and chuckled.

It was the same expression you wore when trying to figure things out.

As... weird and cute as it may be.

Then you suddenly yawned, causing the tech overlord to consequently do the same.

Something you poked fun at him for since when did TVs yawn apparently.

Rolling his eyes, Vox took a glance at his internal clock.

It was four in the morning?!

How long had you both been talking????

"Vox? You good?"

Apparently his bewilderment was evident on the screen, so he just switched his attention back to you.

Vox's screen glitched slightly when he was caught off guard by how close you got to the TV.

Almost all up in his face even.

"Y-Yeah, just zZst- fine. Say... Doll, do you know what time it is?"

"Uhhhh- no, not really- why?"

"It's four in the morning."

"And?"

"You need to sleep?"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to the TV, plopping down on the couch with a pout.

"Hey."

You ignored him.

"Heeeeeey-"

Vox couldn't help but chortle from your antics, you really seemed like a grumpy child right now.

"Look dollface, I don't want the fun to end either but we've still got tomorrow."

"I don't wanna say goodnight. You're just going to disconnect when I do."

"What, you can't expect me to fall asleep hooked up to all your stuff again can you? My chair isn't the most comfortable place to fall asleep."

"Still!"

Vox rubbed his face with a sigh, he felt the inexplicable urge to just pinch your cheeks.

He would if he could but he didn't exactly have hands as a TV.

Why did you have to be so cute?

"How about this? I'll stick around until you pass out. You won't even notice I'm gone come morning."

"Fineeeeeee."

It didn't take too long for you to fall asleep on the couch.

Similarly to yesterday, you were just haphazardly sprawled across the furniture with a thin blanket to cover you.

Despite his words, Vox still stuck around for a while to make sure you were asleep.

You looked so serene while you rested, like you didn't have any worries.

The overlord let out a tired sigh, he'll just stick around for another five minutes.

Just a little longer in this peaceful moment with you.

Vox totally fell asleep in his chair again, he woke up that morning in an awkward position feeling more sore than ever too.

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"MORNING VOXYYY!!!"

[thiccpersonality]

The Realization

It's hard being the only human in a team full of meta-humans, aliens or straight up gods, but Bruce manages to get by...even if internally he's overly critical of the work he does, always comparing himself to others and telling himself to do better. But, he secretly counts his blessings one-by-one at how he has friends colleagues that reassure him everyday that he does so much-yes, even when he doesn't ask for it...Clark always tells him it's in his eyes, that's how he knows Bruce wants it.

Bruce finds that stupid though, the only thing in his eyes is exhaustion, and if not exhaustion, then anger; and if not anger, then it's probably a cocktail of self-loathing, self-hate and self-deprecation sprinkled with a healthy dose of "I wish I was dead."

Anyhow, Bruce counts his blessings secretly, even if it doesn't seem like he's doing so. And while it's hard being one of the only humans without a power in a group full of meta-humans or fully fledged super powered beings, he is grateful for the other aspects of power he has: his name, his face, his money, influence-and one of his actual favorites...when he's in a good mood-his body. Bruce isn't an idiot (Jason: "Not all the time anyway!"), he sees the way people eye him up and down, both men and women alike, he knows their thoughts towards him...or well, his body at least.

He has seen the way women eye his arms and pecs (Wally: "You mean, Batboobs®!? And doesn't everyone eye those?"), watches the way mens eyes glaze over when staring at his mile long legs.

Which brings us to how Bruce never truly feels small, not anymore at least. Even if he was of smaller height for a man (or in general) his position in life and as a hero/vigilante would make him feel and appear big to people. So, Bruce hasn't felt small in a very long time, he tends to not pay attention to things like height much-to reiterate: he never feels small because 1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?

The answer: no one.

So while Bruce has never had anyone say to his face that he's short, he's the World's Greatest Detective™ (Jason and Stephanie: "Ehhhh...occasionally.) and can see for himself the difference of him compared to everyone else.

Who is everyone else you ask? Well, it's the people he works with and-and Jason. It's kind of hard for Bruce to truly pay attention to height when he never pays attention to it in the first place or when he's usually in life-threatening situations to really care, in fact, he doesn't know why he is even obsessing over such a thing-'but you do know'-his mind replies. The thing Bruce hates most is that he does-he does know what kick-started this whole height thing, and it was his son; Jason.

XXX

It was any other normal day at Wayne Manor...if you count your son entering your top-secret cave injured as normal. Bruce had his mask off, his icy blue eyes analyzing the information on his computer unblinkingly, there's been an issue with abductions recently and he doesn't want to waste any time on finding out who is up to it, so Bruce has been working overtime (Alfred in a tired tone: "As usual...") trying to find out who it is.

Just as his brain is stringing something together, he hears the sound of a motorcycle outside the Cave, Bruce's brain immediately switches to finding out who it could be. He takes into account every person already inside the house, outside of it, what said people outside said they were doing until his brain very obviously deduces that it must be Jason. Hm? Should he heat some leftovers up for Jason? What is the other here for? Why is he even overthinking it? Jason is free to come over anytime he wants...

....

.....

......

But what if the reason is bad? Is Jason mad at him again? Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose from the sudden headache he gets from his mind panicking, the man just groans softly and turns around just in time to see Jason riding into the Cave, his eyebrow raising suspiciously at the lack of fancy tricks his son bothered not doing.

Bruce silently analyzes his son's body for any signs of distress, starting from his head, he immediately noticed the crack in the helmet and can feel his muscles tighten in worry before remembering he's trained his kids to fight and be able to receive hits as well. The thing that causes him to stand up though is the fact that Jason hasn't noticed him yet, and the way the young man is holding his side isn't helping to ease Bruce's racing mind.

"Jason, is everything alright?"

Hm? Was that too forward of him? Bruce knows his children, but he especially knows Jason and Damian hate being asked for signs of-what they deem as-weakness and injury (Damian sipping his tea: "Wonder where we learned that from, father?)

Jason finally looks up at Bruce, his tone sounding a bit slurred as he speaks, "Jus' fine, B. A little-" he grunts as he stumbles off his bike-"scratch never...hurt me." Okay, so it's more than a little scratch, Bruce catches Jason and can't control the immediate frown he makes when the boy doesn't bother fighting his hold. "What actually happened? It's not just a little scratch...you are clutching your side like you've been sh-" his breathing hitches at the words he almost uttered, w-was Jason actually-

"What? S-Shot? Why's it matter if-" Jason quiets down when Bruce's words finally process, his baby blue's widening under his mask at the small ways his dad is starting to panic from the thought-"No! I was jus' stabbed is all...no shots."

Bruce will get on himself later about how his body relaxed a bit more when finding out his child wasn't shot, I mean, what kind of father feels relieved that their kid was just stabbed? He knows-deep down-that it's his...ahem..."trauma response" to guns, but it sucks for him to realize he finds himself more at ease when people he knows are hurt in different ways that aren't a gun...he feels like a horrible person when it happens.

For now though, his main priority is his son who is losing blood, blood that Bruce is finally noticing on Jason's hand.

Bruce grunts as he brings his son closer to his body, feeling momentarily surprised when he lets out the sound from moving the younger. Since when did he ever grunt when moving his children? Another thing is, when did Jason get so heavy in the first place? When did his once small boy pack on so much muscle and-oh, God...please...when did Jason ever have to bend his knees when Bruce held him?

His body is on autopilot and he can feel himself moving to the medical table, but his eyes are busy staring at Jason's bent knees, his mind screaming at him that this must be a prank his son is pulling-oh! Or maybe Bruce is actually in an alternate universe where his child is bigger than him.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath when arriving at the table, gently lying his son down so he can get to work on stitching his boy up while also giving a (most likely) hypocritical lecture on how Jason should stay safe.

XXX

It was ever since that day that Bruce has been hyper fixated on his own height, along with the height of others. He hates how he's been sneaking in tests and making things awkward with his family because he chooses not to answer and instead rushes off to panic when realizing Jason is bigger than him.

It all happened as soon as Jason was patched up too, his mind recalls every stupid miniscule little detail, from Jason's clothes to the way his hair was messy from sleep and-the worst part-how he had to look up at the nineteen-year-old when the young man got close enough to him. Barefoot and all. The worst part is how Jason didn't even seem to notice it, and Bruce is NOT risking letting his son know, because then he will be picked on for being smaller than him and then his Bluejay will no doubt drag his siblings into this.

Not to mention how Bruce doesn't want to deal with a furious Damian who will demand that they, in his words, "stop disrespecting father before he slits their throats."

It has been a miserable couple months for him-and don't you judge him for keeping this obsession up for months! How is anyone-let alone a parent-supposed to process that they are shorter than their kid? Bruce holds back his frustrated tears at realizing his children are grown and growing, for goodness sakes, he had a meltdown just yesterday when it caught up to him that Richard is a fully grown man...he will never let anyone know about how he clutched onto old pictures of his eldest while crying.

And everyday Bruce is hoping and praying against Damian's growth...of course he doesn't want his son to be stunted in his puberty process...but if he decides to stay little forever then that is perfectly okay with him.

Besides panicking over his family's growth, which, yay for them...really, Bruce has been noticing-and I mean, TRULY noticing, his friends colleagues heights. There are certain people where it's just so noticeable, like J'onn for example, that guy is so huge that you are stupid if you don't notice it. Another hero is Big Barda, I mean, she's a seven foot tall woman...you would obviously notice that.

But there are just some people he noticed it with but it didn't bother him before (thank you Jason for kick-starting this!) And now Bruce is constantly comparing himself to the most closest of colleagues to one's he barely speaks to, it's insane how many files he's gone through just to look at heights. His two closest friends colleagues Diana and Clark are two people he didn't bother with height wise. It didn't matter since they made him feel small in different ways...I mean, you have the Amazonian princess with strength and skills that would put any living creature to shame and a Kryptonian that is more human than most humans, who truly has a heart of gold despite any negative views towards him.

And then there is Bruce: cold, stoic, a touch too sarcastic, jaded, cynical, a negative Nancy, a party pooper (Jason says that), no fun, emotionally stunted, anxious, depressed, stressed, old, washed up, unfunny-and the worst of all; short.

Bruce holds back his distressed noise as Wally West, AKA: Richard's best friend who has been over a million times, stands next to him with that ever bright smile of his and is animatedly talking, effectively ruining his depressing train of thought. When did he get so big? So...grown? He takes in the maturity of his once soft face, the man is still cute no doubt, but he isn't that same round faced boy who bothered him about Alfred's cookies. Okay, okay, maybe he still is that same kid...just older looking and taller now.

"-and that's why I'll need that penthouse full of Agent A's cookies."

Bruce blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes and looks down (ha!) at The Flash confused, though to the normal eye he looks the same old disinterested as usual. "You need a penthouse? What happened to that modest apartment you got?" Wally blinks in shock behind his mask before giving a toothy smile, "Is that what your mind got from that? I was joking about the penthouse...though Agent A's cookies would still be much appreciated."

The ginger shifts in place nervously at the way Batman is staring at him, did he do something wrong? The only thing that somewhat assures Wally that things are okay is the fact that Bruce gives a grunt of agreement before walking off.

He can't take this anymore! If Bruce stays around Wally any longer he's afraid he'll start crying in front of the kid. Instead, he'll just head to the cafeteria and drown his sorrows in today's dessert. Bruce walks in and sees that Diana is already in line, holding back his grumble as he stands next to the woman and internally mourns the fact his head only reaches her shoulder. "Good morning, my friend! It's a lovely day in space is it not?"

Bruce grunts and doesn't bother looking up at Diana, "It's the same view we see everyday we come up to the Watchtower."

The Amazonian just smiles brighter, warmth radiating from her mood. "Though we see it everyday it doesn't make it any less gorgeous up here." Bitterness. Bruce's heart is filled with bitterness at the words "up" and "here" , is-is Diana teasing him? Did she somehow find out about his fixation and is now subtly letting him know that she knows?

The feeling of warmth, like that from the sun, at his right side causes Bruce to automatically look up at the person standing so close to him. His icy blue eyes only widen under his mask at fully tilting his head back to look up at Clark, he feels like sobbing when realizing his head only comes to Clark's chest, why is the man even taller than Diana!?

"Good morning Bruce, Diana. Lovely morning up here, is it not?"

There's that stupid word again! And is it really a good morning when he's been suffering for so long? Bruce frowns at the gentle nudge at his side and Diana's jovial tone, "Told you the view is still beautiful." At Clark's questioning look Diana just smiles more, "Our friend here just is being a sourpuss today. He's grumpy about how I said the view is nice, he just replied about how we see it everyday."

Clark just smiles and looks down at Bruce, his smile turning amused when his friend doesn't move up the line. "Are you just going to stare at me all morning or will you move down the line?"

A scoff is all Bruce can give, not noticing the concerned looks shared over his head as he focuses on piling his food tray with dessert. The concern isn't necessarily from Bruce eating sweets, Diana and Clark both know how much their friend actually has a sweet tooth, the issue is coming from the fact he is willingly eating sweets in front of others on top of the amount it is. Clark just frowns worriedly and sits actual food on his plate while mouthing to Diana about what's wrong with Bruce.

In return, the princess just shakes her head and looks back down at Bruce, choosing to speak up. "You know, it's been awhile since we've eaten alone, just the three of us. Why don't we head to one of our rooms or something?" What she actually means by that is: "let's get Bruce alone so we can figure out what's wrong with him."

The two super powered heroes find themselves even more putoff at Bruce's distracted grunt...it is rare he pulls that one out, usually his grunts have some level of awareness to them, but this one is telling them that he's not actually paying attention. Which is cause for alarm in and of itself. Plus, Clark and Diana have been getting calls from Bruce's family, they are worried about how he's been acting as of late. They report Bruce is running off on them whenever they ask him what's wrong...which actually isn't out of character for Bruce, but if the Batfamily are saying it's different than usual, then it's different than usual.

The two taller heroes lead the shorter to his room, punching his code in before the door opens and they watch as Bruce automatically walks over to his bed and sits on it, shoving a cookie in his mouth and causing Clark to signal to Diana in confirmation that something is wrong.

They use their friend's distracted state to quietly talk about it while joining him in the room, "What's going on with him?" Diana raises her brow as she asks, tilting her head up and to the side so Clark can whisper in her ear. "I don't know for sure...but his lip is jutting out into a micro-pout. I quickly scanned him to see if he was hiding injuries, and while he's not, his muscles are tense as if he's holding back something."

Diana softly ah's and sets her tray down on Bruce's desk, the noise causing the man to look up at them finally. His eyebrows raising when noticing he's in his room, "Why didn't we just eat in the cafeteria?" Bruce holds back his fidgeting at the look the taller two heroes share.

Clark clears his throat, "We were going to originally...but we noticed you were acting off and suggested eating in one of our rooms as a test-"

Diana, being one to never hold back, gets to the point. "A test you failed, Bruce. To be honest, you've been acting off enough to worry your family into calling us to step in. So, can you please tell us what's going on?" Bruce feels genuine embarrassment that this is where his fixation has gotten him, he's too flustered to admit that his issue is the fact he's begun to notice people are bigger than him, I mean, what kind of issue is that?

At Bruce's silence Clark steps forward slightly, his voice patient and gentle when he speaks.

"We are your friends, B. Heck, you even feel like family. And family is there for each other just like me and Di are here for you. Jason has been feeling particularly bad lately...he says he didn't know what he did this time to make you so upset with him, you keep staring him down angrily only to storm off when he looks back at you."

Bruce feels angry with himself for letting such a stupid non-issue get this far. His looks of "anger" weren't anger towards Jason at all, he knows when he thinks hard about stuff he can sometimes look mean apparently, but he was never upset with his Jaylad...the distress was just showing on his face and Bruce most likely masked it with the first emotion that came to mind, one that's easiest for him to express or replicate; anger or irritation.

Bruce hates the involuntary distressed sound that escapes his crumb covered lips, however, for the sake of his family and ending this stupid misunderstanding, he chooses to be...honest (Batfamily: *collectively gasping*)

"Jason...he's bigger than me-" Bruce keeps the Batman mask on so he won't be too vulnerable, his hands tightening on the metal tray from the thought-"For months I have been noticing the sudden growth of my children and I...I didn't know what to do with that information. Did you know that Jason has to crouch when I hold him now? Since when did he need to do that?" At this point of his ranting, Bruce is out of bed and pacing across the room while his friends patiently listen.

"And then it hit me one day that Richard is truly a man now. Maybe that's why we got into so many fights before? I never truly realized that he didn't need my help like before-" Bruce pauses in the middle of the room and clenches his cape in his fists-"He is so much taller now and shining brighter than the little boy I picked up. Timmy is even starting to grow a bit more...which, I don't know if I should be upset or pleased that he's finally growing, that boy scares me sometimes with how small he was."

Bruce's hands instinctively reach up to run his fingers through his hair and he huffs at the mask being in the way, choosing to hide his hands underneath his cape instead.

"Wally is even so big now, did you know that? I remember the young boy with that fat freckled face pestering me about Alfred's cookies...and now that boy has the audacity to get big on me, I think I hate realizing that Dickie-bird is actually taller than his friend now, it's only by one or two inches-but still!" Bruce starts pacing again, his nerves building up once more and telling him to move.

"And don't get me started on Damian. I feel I constantly am trying to sabotage his growth...I never got to see him as a baby and so I hope he stays that small, chubby faced little boy I've come to know. I feel horrible for wishing against his growth, but I want to make his childhood as enjoyable as possible, did you know he didn't even know what movies were when he came here? He was deprived of fun and he can't grow too quickly now or fun childhood memories can't be made."

Bruce stops to finally stare at Diana and Clark, pointing accusingly at them.

"And then you two! I noticed it before, but it was never something of interest to me. I didn't need to pay attention to your heights when I feel small in other ways with you two...you-" Bruce grunts at Clark gently slamming into him and hugging him, the man sounding a mix of fond, touched, baffled and sad. "You don't need to feel small with us. I for one think you are bigger than any of us in many different ways...I mean, you just admitted to having a crisis at realizing your family grew."

Diana joins in on the hug with a soft chuckle, "I'm just surprised you didn't notice our height difference sooner. Clark and I always talked about how cute it is to pick you up, your our tiny human."

The woman just smiles more when Clark nudges her side in warning for her playful words, "But in all seriousness. This has to be the cutest moment we've seen from you ever, instead of a midlife crisis you are having a parental crisis-" Diana cackles again when Clark pokes her side again-"What? I am being serious. But also, this just shows how much you care...and I think it's only normal to feel this way when you never expected to have a family of your own in the first place."

Bruce's breath hitches at the gentleness in which Diana speaks the last part, his eyes prickling with tears at realizing deep down she's right. Ever since he took in Richard he was always amazed and scared at having a family, and no matter how much he's tried to deny it in his worst moments, that's what Richard became ever since he thought of taking him in. Bruce never expected a family, which is why he tries so hard to deny it...and I guess after years of taking care of children it's finally caught up to him that his family-more specifically, his children (because that's who they are) have grown into functioning adults.

He never thought he would want a family after losing his in that alleyway, but if anyone were to take down his defenses...of course it'd be a child.

Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak. He can't help but chuckle at the incredulous look Bruce gives him for wanting to cry as well.

"You can cry, Bruce. What are friends for?"

Bruce feels his face grow red, his body loosening in Clark and Diana's hold as months of tension leaves his being through his tears, choosing to hide his face in his friends strong bodies. He hates crying and how good it makes him feel afterwards, he doesn't think he deserves that feeling most days, but for now, it's okay. Bruce also can't help the eye roll at hearing Clark sniffle as well, he's such a crybaby. Diana just smirks at her two boys, carding her long, elegant fingers through Bruce's hair, the two taller heroes paying close attention to Bruce as he shifts in their hold and speaks up. Voice slightly muffled.

"Never speak about this to anyone."

Diana and Clark share a look before silently coming into agreement and lifting Bruce off his feet, reveling in his annoyed protests with laughter.

"We wouldn't dare."

("1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?" Does the second option imply or mean Bruce is short or is it just a scenario? You decide! I constantly switch between Bruce being a genuine short king and him just being around people that make him feel freaking short 😂.

"Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak." <-(Damian and Jason sipping on their tea: "Seems we found that answer to who we learned that from. 😌")

Also, I am so sorry this story got so long! I didn't mean to 😭. This idea has been in my head, and I usually forget my ideas...but this time I actually wanted to remember lol. This is also kind of based off of the one day I was hugging my baby brother and realized I actually had to look up at him...he's only 14 (while writing this I also just remembered he's 14 😭😭😭), I went back into my room and literally just sat there reminiscing on my bed about when he was brought home from the hospital to all the good times we had together and even things I wish I did different with him growing up 😂.

Also, also, I apologize for the constant whiplash from some semblance of humor (or something), to slightly crack-ish (I think so at least) writing to things getting deep and emotional. I was feeling fickle with the vibe of this story I guess, so I said: "why not everything?" 😂😂😂

This is getting even longer cause I like talking too much in notes lol, so I'm going to leave with a thank you! Anyone and everyone who bothers to read this long mess is very much appreciated!

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[black-aurora-nora]

New Baby Pt. 2 | Yandere!Todoroki Family x Reader

Quiet sobs could be heard from behind the door of the room you now slept in.

Enji had thought you'd be more understanding and compliant if you received a letter and 'paperwork' showing that your parents had given the Todoroki's legal guardianship over you.

However, to his shock, that only seemed to upset you more.

You asked him to leave the room in such a thin, sullen voice that he couldn't help but oblige.

Now he, and the rest of the family, were sitting at the dinner table watching their food go cold.

Your seat was still empty.

All eyes were on Enji, wondering what the next move was.

"I'll... I'll get (Y/N) out of her room by lunchtime," He said. "Even if she's still upset."

Rei nodded, shifting her attention to her kids, "And make sure that everyone is extra nice today. (Y/N) has obviously felt some big feelings and I don't want her to get too overwhelmed like yesterday. Understood?"

Three nods and Rei smiled back in answer, "Good."

When it was time for lunch, just like Enji had said, he got you out of your room.

Everyone's hearts crumbled at the sight of you. Your eyes were puffy underneath and red. It was obvious all you did today was cry your heart out.

At the table, you were seated between Enji and Rei.

You could feel everyone staring at you while you tried to eat.

When you couldn’t take the staring anymore, you put your utensils down, unable to make eye contact as you asked, “How long will I be staying here?”

“There’s no telling.” Enji answered firmly, “If your parents can get back on their feet, they will come back and get you.”

You shuffled in your seat slightly. “How long will that take?”

“Let’s not discuss this over dinner, sweetheart.” Reid’s voice cut in.

There was no need for you to keep thinking about your old parents anyway. It made you too upset. She’d be a much better mommy anyhow. You’d see soon enough and would forget all about your other mom.

After dinner, Fuyumi took you to the shower room.

“Here, you get the use the shower before the dirty boys do.” She smiled kindly.

She made sure you had the proper necessities and even let you pick out whatever body wash you wanted from her personal collection.

You liked how kind she was. It was nothing like Enji, who was always towering over you and bleeding with intimidation.

“Just shout if you need something.” She told you and left you alone.

A nice wash and soak was a good start to bettering your mood. Maybe you could ask Enji or Rei if you could call your parents tomorrow to get a better idea of the situation.

It wasn’t like them to just leave a letter.

Wrapped in a towel, you strolled back to your room to find Rei sitting on your bed.

Beside her was a pair of expensive-looking silk pajamas.

She smiled at you despite the uncomfortable look on your face, “I hope you don’t mind that I picked out some pajamas for you. We bought these for you last minute.” She explained coolly.

She stood up, “We can go shopping this week to get you your own clothes, how does that sound, (Y/N)?” She tilted her head at you, waiting for an answer.

You clutched the towel closer to your body, “What about my old clothes?”

She chuckled at you, as if you’d said something silly.

“You don’t need to worry about that. New clothes never hurt anybody.”

You supposed that was true. It would probably be nice to get out.

You walked over to the pajamas and then looked over at Rei. Why hadn’t she left yet?

She didn’t seem to be taking the hint and threw you a concerned glance, “What’s wrong? Do you need my help?”

You immediately shook your head, “No!” You yelped. “I-I need privacy, please… Mrs. Todoroki.”

“Oh! Of course you do!” How could Rei have forgotten? You were a big girl. Of course you could dress yourself.

She left the room, standing right outside in case you needed help at any point.

Once you had your pajamas on, you had to admit that they felt quite nice. The silk was soft and smooth. It was comfortably cool against your skin as well.

At some point as you finished getting ready for bed, you gasped sharply when you banged your hand against the counter of the vanity in your room.

Rei burst into the room.

"Did you hurt yourself?!" Rei asked, panic clear in her voice. She reached out for your hand and you yanked it back, "Let mama see, (Y/N)," She told you sternly.

You flinched at the word.

Mama.

You looked at her as if she'd grown another head and frowned deeply, "You... You're not my mom, Mrs. Todoroki."

Rei looked so upset at that declaration that you would've thought you'd shot her.

You could see that she was incredibly hurt by what you'd said but she masked it with a smile, chuckling to herself, "Right, of course I'm not... Force of habit."

After an awkward goodnight, she left your room disheartened.

Enji was waiting for her in their shared room, arms crossed with a frown. “What the hell is wrong with you, woman?!”

Rei flinched back, “I jus-“

“You’re moving too fast, is what you’re doing! Stop forcing yourself on her! Do you want her to hate you?”

“No, Enji, I don’t.”

“Then slow down. I had to pay a good amount to get guardianship of (Y/N). We can’t mess this up because you can’t control yourself.”

Rei kept her head down, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll apologize to (Y/N) tomorrow.”

Enji huffed approvingly, laying down in his bed and turning over.

This wasn’t going to be easy for either one of you.

Taglist:

@yumuramma

[luveline]

Congrats on 40k Jade! Also hi, I hope you're having a great day (I'm really nervous this is my first time sending in a request I'm so sorry if I sound weird)

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —send me a hurt/comfort request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 2k or less

Can I request a reader that has a bit of a temper and got told that no one would like her because of it so she's a bit insecure about herself? My favourite character is James so maybe with him or with Remus whichever you prefer (and they reassure her and it's awesome because your writing is just so awesome)

Congrats again <3

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much, you didn't sound weird at all dw ♡ fem!reader

The day has been long, your feet dragging up the steps to Remus' flat. His door sticks and the only radiator that doesn't need bleeding is the one in his bedroom, so it's cold, and you're irked. You kick out of your pinching shoes and hang your jacket up, which falls on the floor. You pick it up and it falls again. Huffing, you put it on the sideboard and trudge down the hallway to Remus bedroom. 

"Hello, my lovely," he says without looking up. 

There's a notebook in his lap. He's wearing his reading glasses. If you were in a better mood you'd try to distract him by laying across his thighs. As it stands, you're fucking exhausted. You flop down in his bed and curl towards him where he's sitting against the headboard. 

"Tired?" he asks. 

"Mm." Tired isn't the right word, but the right word makes people cringe at you. 

Today has been awful and you hate the part of you that wants to rail about it. You can't help how you feel; this anger glows molten. It makes you hate yourself, which irks you worse. You grab one of his pillows and pull it against your chest to squeeze it until your arms hurt. 

"Bad day?" he asks, pen scratching.

You exhale. "A bit," you say into the pillowcase. 

"Sorry, dovey," he says. There's the sound of paper leaves catching against one another and the clink of a pen put away. "What did you say? I needed to finish writing that edit down before I forgot."

You're not mad at him in particular but your voice comes out tightly strung anyhow, "I said it was a bit of a bad day."

Remus hears your tone and refuses to skirt around the issue. Not from a want to be confrontational, but a direct way of going about things. "What, are you mad at me?" 

"No," you say, turning away from him. 

"You seem mad." 

"I think I am." 

"Well, now you don't sound mad," he says, dipping down to talk into the back of your neck. "Now you sound upset. Have I upset you?" 

"No, Remus," you say. Mad to sad to mad again, your shoulder and spine ache with rigidity. 

All his questions didn't make you mad, but you were mad to begin with, and so what might usually be very normal turns to irritating. In the moment, you've no hope of controlling it, and, not wanting to further subject Remus to any misdirected annoyance, you shuffle out of his reach. "I just need a minute," you say. 

Remus is used to your temper, though you often worry he'll grow tired of you and your big moods and throw in the towel. You count useless numbers in your head and curl your fists into balls until your bones feel like they're too big for your skin, wanting to deal with it alone. 

A minute or two later and Remus reaches for your side. "I was trying to lighten the mood, and it wasn't my best work," he says, tip of his thumb drawing semi circles into your shirt. 

Remus taking the blame for your emotions has you frowning, rabbit-holing into twisting thoughts. He's always been good for you and good to you, accepting of your short fuse. He's not always sunshine and lollipops himself. But, he's not angry half as often as you are. Does that bother him? People have said to you before that your temper will be the ruining of a good thing, that Remus won't want to deal with it. And it makes sense. 

You don't want to deal with it either. You don't really feel like you have much choice when it comes to being mad. 

"Sorry," you mumble. 

Mattress springs groan as he leverages himself closer to you. Familiar, his hand sneaks under your shirt to tickle the soft roll of your stomach. He draws a slow and winding line with no end nor goal in mind, uncaring of the pouch you get laying down. Remus doesn't really care about anything that could be marked superficial. It's one of the many reasons that he's markedly the best person you know; he loves everything that you hate about yourself without hesitation. Like your anger. 

"Do you want to set a rule?" he asks. 

"Pardon?"

"Humour me. Let's make a condition before we have this conversation." Remus stops drawing to slide his hand between your hip and the mattress, hugging you to him. "I'll assume you're not mad at me even if you sound angry, and you can assume I don't mind." 

"Do you mind?" you ask. 

"Well, I don't love when you're angry, but I know it isn't at me so it won't matter." 

Reassured enough to face him, you meet his eyes. 

"I know I have a tendency to make it sound like I'm angry at you when I'm really mad at someone else," you say. 

"That's not true. And I ask, don't I? If I think you're mad at me?" Remus' already dulcet voice drops to a murmur, words said slowly and with as much care as a person can put into words alone, "I don't know why you feel like you're such a bad person for being angry." 

"Because it's all the time," you say. Your throat burns with the effort that it takes to stay intelligible. 

"It's not all the time." 

"It's often, and it's not fair to you." 

"It's not fair to take it out on other people, and I promise you I'd let you know if you were doing that. So… could you just tell me why you're mad? Without worrying I'll take it personally." 

"It's not about taking it personally, I don't want you to take it personally, but it's just– it's just ugly, isn't it?" 

Remus frowns. "Honestly? I don't think so. You have to be angry sometimes. Everyone gets angry and those feelings need somewhere to go, or it'll eat you up inside and make you bitter instead. Like… okay, he'll forgive me for telling you this, but Sirius used to get into these awful angry tirades where he'd shout at nothing, you know? And I hated seeing him do it, but I wasn't sitting there thinking he was ugly for it. I just kind of hated that something was able to occupy him so heavily. And that's how I feel about it when it happens to you, dove." 

"He used to?" you ask, the bridge of your nose flat to his knee. 

"Yeah, he did." Remus pushes your shoulder flat to the bed beneath you and leans in to give you a kiss. The corner of your mouth takes the brunt of it. 

"Did you kiss him like this, or–" 

Remus laughs and hugs you, "A discussion for another day," he murmurs. He gives you a last kiss and squeeze and then sits up. "So shout at me." 

"I don't want to shout at you." 

"You know what I mean. Tell me what pissed you off today." 

"Are you sure?" you ask. 

"Yeah, I'm sure, I like the way your eyes look anyways, when you get riled up." Remus finds your hand to hold. "Tell me, dove. I'll be angry with you."

[dixons-sunshine]

👉👈 Because your my fav writer for Dad Daryl 👉👈 Just wondering if you’d consider him stepping up as a parental figure for his niece (Merle’s kid) after he “died” and when he actually died 👉👈

I'm Right Here | Uncle!Daryl Dixon x Niece!Reader (platonic/familial)

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: With Merle gone, you were the only family Daryl had left. He had unofficially stepped up as your dad, and in those eight months with your actual father "dead", Daryl was a better dad than Merle ever was. And he proved it in more ways than one, even before Merle went missing.

Genre: Fluff, some light angst.

Era: The Quarry, The Prison (season three).

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and death, fear of abandonment.

Word count: 2.4k

A/n: I've been bouncing back and forth between fics and finally managed to finish this. Next up is I Never Lived For The Applause, and then some more young!Daryl. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Hey, kiddo. Ya alrigh'?”

“I'm fine. The walkers didn't get me,” you tried to reassure him. “You didn't find my dad?”

You looked up at the sound of your uncle's voice, meeting his intense gaze. You gave him a small, unconvincing smile that he could see through instantly.

Daryl sat down on the log next to you, placing his crossbow down on the ground. He stared ahead at the ashes of the prior night's fire, an unreadable expression on his face. “Nah. Wasn't nothin' to find 'cept his hand. He had to cut it off.”

You winced, absentmindedly grabbing your own hand at the mere thought of the pain that it must've caused your father. Despite your strained relationship with the man for obvious reasons, he didn't deserve that fate—to lose his hand because some people couldn't find another way to deal with his temper.

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your heart break. Despite everything, Merle was your father and you loved him. At least he had stuck around. The same couldn't be said for your mother, who had dropped you on Merle's doorstep the moment you were born.

“Yeah,” Daryl responded, instantly picking up on your downtrodden mood but not knowing how to bring you comfort in a moment like that. He'd just essentially told you, his thirteen year old niece that was so wise beyond her years due to the shit Merle had gotten into, that your father was most likely dead. It tore him apart to have to bestow that news on you, but it was necessary. What could he do, lie to you? That was out of the question.

You blinked the tears away that had started to well up in your eyes, trying to put on a brave face for your uncle. “Looks like it's just us now, huh, uncle Daryl? The two remaining Dixons.”

Daryl gave you a tight-lipped smile and ruffled your hair, chuckling quietly at the sound of protest you let out. “Looks like it. We're gon' give the world hell, ya and I. Jus' like the old times.”

You smiled up at him. Even though your father was gone, you still had your uncle, and that made you feel better about everything.

“We are. The world ain't ready for us.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“It won't work.”

“S'gotta.”

“It'll stir things up,” Rick told Daryl, adamant with his decision.

“Look, the Governor's probably on the way to the prison righ' now. Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle,” Daryl replied defiantly, glancing between his companions on the road.

“Do you really want him sleeping in the same cellblock as Carol, Beth or Y/n?” Glenn questioned, unwilling to let Merle, a known hothead and former drug user, near the people he's come to care about.

“He ain't a rapist,” Daryl responded, frowning at Glenn's accusation. “And he sure as hell wouldn't touch his own daughter like tha'. Merle may be sick in some ways, but he ain't like tha'.”

“Yeah, okay, but his buddy is.”

“They ain't buddies no more. Not after last nigh'.”

Rick chipped in to the conversation, turning the archer's attention back to him. “There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats.”

“What, so ya'd cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” Daryl asked, motioning over to Michonne who was waiting for them by the car.

“She's not coming back with us.”

“She's not in a state to be on her own,” Maggie denied, giving Rick a pointed look.

Glenn nodded in agreement to his girlfriend's statement. “She did bring you guys to us.”

“And then ditched us,” Rick stated in a bored tone, eyeing Michonne warily.

“At least let my dad stitch her up?” Maggie asked.

“It's too unpredictable,” Rick denied vehemently, shaking his head.

Daryl nodded in agreement. “He's righ', we dun' know who she is. But Merle... Merle's blood.”

“No. Merle is your blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison,” Glenn countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you're part of that family,” Rick told Daryl, looking at him expectantly. “He's not. He's not.”

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, pondering over his decisions. Thoughts of leaving with Merle, going off and fending for themselves like the old days flashed through his mind, but then he thought of you. You, his sweet, kind, low-key badass, now fourteen year old niece who he'd gone to great lengths to protect over the past eight months. The girl who he'd been taking care of since his brother "died", the girl who had unknowingly started to feel like his own daughter, though he would never tell Merle that. And at that moment, he knew he couldn't just leave. He wouldn't.

“Man, wha' do y'all expect me to tell my niece?” Daryl began, effectively silencing everyone. “Tha' I found her father after all this time and he's alive, but he couldn't come back to her 'cause y'all said so? How's tha' gon' fly with her? Ya'd really deprive the girl a chance at gettin' her father back 'cause of wha' might happen?”

That seemed to really make everyone reconsider. Even Glenn didn't have a counter argument now. Everything was silent for a good thirty seconds while Rick weighed his options, exchanging wordless exchanges with Maggie and Glenn. It was clear that nobody wanted it, but the group couldn't deny Daryl's argument. They cared about you, and it would be unfair for them to deny you the chance of getting your father back.

Rick turned and whistled, signalling Merle over. When he stood in front of him, Rick gripped him by his shirt, getting into his face.

“You're coming with us, but this isn't an invitation for you to be a jackass with everyone back at the prison. The only reason you're even coming back is because of your daughter. If it wasn't for her, you'd be gone.”

Merle's eyes widened the slightest bit with surprise, but it soon morphed back into his usual careless look. “Well, would ya look at tha'. My lil' girl still lives. M'surprised, quite honestly. Didn't think she was built fer this world. Kinda expected her to have kicked the bucket by now.”

“Man, shut up!” Daryl's voice boomed unexpectedly, shutting his brother up. “Dun' make me regret convincin' them to bring ya back. And if ya even say one degradin' thing to yer daughter, I will personally gut ya and feed ya to the walkers. Tha' kid's been through 'nough.”

Unbeknownst to either brother, Rick, Glenn and Maggie had walked ahead to get everything settled into the car, leaving the two brothers to their feud. It was a good idea, too. That was a family matter.

“Wha', ya actually care 'bout her now? Didn't see ya stickin' 'round to play pretend with her back before the world went to shit, and now yer tryna tell me how to parent my own child? Nah, lil' bro. Tha' ain't how it works.”

Daryl scoffed and shoved past him, walking over to the car. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of Merle's laughter, rolling his eyes at it. He pressed forward and slipped into the passenger's seat, not missing the way everyone tensed up when Merle got into the car.

He just hoped that he hadn't made the wrong decision by bringing Merle back.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

You and Carl were rushing over to the gates when you saw the familiar vehicle enter the courtyard. The car was noticeably more crowded, and with one glance through the window, you were relieved to see your uncle. You had been so worried that something might have happened to him, but there he was, relatively unscathed.

Daryl was barely out of the car when you practically launched yourself into his arms. He stumbled a bit but regained his footing, hugging you tightly to him. He didn't miss the unmistakable sound of your sniffles.

“Hey, kiddo, s'alrigh'. M'okay,” he reassured you in whispered tones, rubbing his hand up and down your back in comfort.

“I was so scared. I couldn't stop fearing the worst,” you choked out, trying to will the sobs away. You buried your face into your uncle's shirt, dampening it slightly with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind.

“M'righ' here. I ain't goin' nowhere, I promise,” he assured you. “No more tears, alrigh'? Ain't no more need fer 'em.”

“Well, ain't this jus' sweet.”

A familiar raspy voice met your ears. You tensed up, pulling away from the hug and turning around, facing the man you had thought to be dead for eight months—your father, Merle Dixon.

“Wha', no hugs fer yer old man, girl?” Merle asked, a grin on his face as he extended his arms in a silent invitation for a hug. “Yer not gon' greet the man who helped with givin' ya life?”

Subconsciously, you took a step back. Daryl stepped in front of you, shielding you with his body. He gave Merle a warning glare before turning to you.

“Why dun' ya go help Hershel with tha' lady we brought back? I know he's been teachin' ya some medical things. It'd do ya good to learn how to do stitches.” You nodded, understanding his underlying message and sped off, leaving him alone with Merle. Daryl turned to face him, a glare on his face. “Man, back the hell off. She ain't gotta give ya anythin' if she dun' want to.”

“Because I was with the enemy?”

“'Cause yer a simple minded piece of shit who never even bothered to play dolls with her, much less give her hugs! Ya wanna know somethin'? When tha' lady dropped her off on our doorstep, who do ya think took care of her when yer ass was too high or drunk to? To answer yer question from earlier, I did stick 'round. I changed her diapers. I bathed her, fed her, stayed up with her at nigh' when ya wouldn't. I took care of her. Ya were jus' too fuckin' out of it most of the time to realise it! Hell, did ya think those things happened magically?”

“Now listen here, bro—” Merle started, but Daryl didn't light up.

“And when she got older, who the hell do ya think took her to school? Picked her up, encouraged her to do the spelling bee, went to parent teacher conferences? Do ya think the fuckin' tooth fairy did tha'? Say wha' ya want, bro, but she dun' owe ya shit. Ya may not have been like dad, but ya weren't a good father, either.”

Merle stayed silent for a moment, the weight of his brother's final statement weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Then why the hell did ya convince 'em to bring me back?”

“'Cause despite everythin', tha' girl still loves ya. And she deserves to have her father 'round,” Daryl responded simply before turning around and stalking off, leaving Merle alone and dumbfounded.

Merle Dixon wasn't right about most things, but one thing he knew for certain he was right about was that you probably didn't care whether he was dead or not. If what Daryl was saying was true, you didn't need him. You had a perfectly good father figure in your life already. Daryl had been a better father to you than your actual father was.

And for some unknown reason, that crushed Merle's heart.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You found him like that?”

Daryl's heart shattered at the broken sound of your voice. It was the second time that he had needed to tell you that Merle was dead, but this time, it was real. Your father's lifeless corpse layed motionless six feet in the ground in the designated graveyard, Daryl having dragged him there and buried him.

Daryl nodded. “Found him as a walker. He had tried to kill the governor but failed. Son of a bitch got to him first.”

“I should've stopped him. I should've known that something was wrong,” you said, a sob threatening to escape your body. “Before he left, he told me that he was proud of me. That he loved me. I should've known that there was a reason to it. He never told me that before. I should've—”

A choked up sob finally fell past your lips. Daryl instinctively pulled you into his arms, offering to be the pillar of strength for you as you crumbled. Despite everything, Merle was still your father. You still had a handful of good memories with the man—when he wasn't drunk or high, Merle was an okay father. But just okay.

It took a while, but you finally managed to calm down. Instinctively, Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, running his hand soothingly over your back.

“S'alrigh', kiddo,” he whispered soothingly.

You didn't know what made you say what you said next. Maybe it was the fact that you weren't thinking straight. Maybe it was because you were desperately looking for a pillar of support, you didn't know. But before you could stop it, the words slipped past your lips—

“Please don't leave me. I can't lose you too, Dad.”

A moment of silence passed. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile spread over Daryl's face. He pulled you closer to him.

“Ya still got me. M'here and I ain't goin' nowhere, kid. Yer stuck with me.”

Merle Dixon wasn't always a good man. He wasn't always a good father either. But in the midst of a cruel world, before and after the dead started walking, Merle managed to give Daryl a sweet gift—you, his daughter. Because despite biological relations, you were now truly his.

[jhdyuiee]

Late Sesh

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: ̗̀➛ pairing: IDOL!taeyong x PRODUCER!Y/N

: ̗̀➛ warnings/tags: smut!, dirty talk, co-workers, name-calling (baby & slut), protected sex, semi public sex (studio sex), fingering, breast play, secret relationship, friends w/ benefits

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1k

: ̗̀➛ a.n: hii again! this is the 2nd fic i’m releasing today 😆, i hope yall enjoy this short one since i did enjoy coming up with the story! anyways i will release more in the future before i go back to school, i promise !! anyhow i hope u enjoyed yutas & taeyongs stories, thank uu to u all who read n enjoyed it i rlly appreciate it!! i love u all && see u next time, jiji out 🤍 [link to yuta’s story: YUTA.]

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It was already past 12 in the morning when I sat here in my studio waiting for him to arrive.

The infamous Lee Taeyong.

It was scheduled for us to record the last B-Side off his 2nd Mini Album. Taeyong actually was the one to suggest we record late “to better set the mood.”

I had no problem with it actually, in fact I enjoyed late-night recording sessions. As the minutes passed there was still no sign of him and just when I was about to call him, there was a knock on my studio door.

I got up, opening it. Speak of the devil.

“You’re late,” I reminded the male as he plopped down on the couch I had in my studio.

“I stopped by the bathroom,” he shrugged.

“Just get inside,” I replied, handing him the lyric sheet to 404 Loading.

He took it, pecking my cheek before stepping inside. My face felt hot, probably even visibly redder than a tomato. ‘He’s too flirty.’

A couple hours later we wrapped up, and he decided on a “celebration.” So here I am in my recording studio straddling his lap and our lips colliding with each other. His hands traveled my body, and mine stayed placed on his nape.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt his hands grope my ass, causing me to start grinding on his semi-hard cock. His hands then traveled to my hips, urging me to grind harder against him. The sensation of his hard cock on my now sensitive clit made everything unbearable. It felt like I would just cum from dry-humping the male.

“Take off your shorts,” he whispered. I got up from his lap and shimmied out of my shorts, leaving me in nothing but my lace thong which was now soaked. Taeyong pulled me by the string, sitting me back on his lap. I faced the other way, his breath on my neck and his hands cupping my sex.

“Wet all for me,” he whispered into my ear again.

His hand then went under my underwear, teasing my clit and my slit. He played with them for a while until I kept squirming at his touch. “Yo-your fingers, pl-please,” I pleaded.

Taeyong scoffed lowly, before plunging in two of his fingers inside my cunt. He kept a steady pace, slowly increasing it the louder I got. “Don’t hold back, let me hear how good I make you feel,” he said, kissing my cheek.

His fingers went in and out of me, while his mouth worked it’s way on my neck, and his thumb worked it’s way on my clit. His thumb teased, circled, and pinched my clit. I was growing overstimulated from everything. He was everywhere. I loved it.

“Cumming already? Cum for me, cum on my fingers baby.”

His words triggered the knot inside my stomach undone, like a command with no hesitation of abiding by. He took his fingers out, licking them clean inside his mouth as he looked down at me. I was already a mess and we haven’t even gotten too far yet.

“Shirt off. Everything off,” he said, tugging at the material on my top.

I took it off along with my bra and underwear. I stood naked in front of him. I saw as he licked his lips, eyeing me like his next meal.

“Your body’s perfect, so fucking beautiful,” Taeyong said, as he took one breast in his hand. His other hand followed along until both hands fondled and played with my breast. Slowly then he brought me closer, and was back on his lap.

He took his hands off my breasts, his mouth soon replaced them. I watched as his mouth sucked on patches of my skin and his tongue swirled and flicked my nipples until they were hard. He let go with a pop, taking off his shirt. “Get up for a bit, I’m gonna grab a condom.”

I stood up, sitting down next to where he was and watched as he grabbed a condom from the “secret drawer” he made in my studio. He brought his sweats and boxers down, until his hard aching cock stood proudly against him.

Taeyong slid the condom down, and walked back to the couch where I waited. “Come sit on it,” he said, grabbing onto my hips. He guided me down on his cock, as it stretched my insides out. I know we’ve done this multiple times before, but I still can’t get used to his size. I moaned out his name repeatedly the more he went inside, and once it was all in he whispered into my ear. “Ready?” I nodded.

He started thrusting into me, and I soon joined in when his thrusts got faster. I bounced on him, feeling as he reached deep inside me. “Look at you, you’re doing so well.” There he goes, his praises. His praises have always turned me on even more, pushed me a little bit more.

“I lo-love it!” I yelped when he suddenly grabbed my hips and thrusted me even more.

“You feel so fucking good, so warm, so tight, so wet.”

Yes.

“You love it when I praise you, don’t you? Makes you clench around me.”

Yes.

“Fuck. Hold it in baby, wait until I’m ready to come, okay.”

“Yes, I-I will wait,” I whimpered.

“I wonder if someone will come in, and see how much of a slut you are,” he teased.

I turned to the door and saw it was unlocked, shit. Taeyong then suddenly grabbed my jaw, making me face him again. “Eyes on me slut.”

“Sorry,” I said softly.

He thrusted into me even more, the pace increasing. Taeyong’s hand then went down into my clit, playing with it. He edged me even more. “Pl-Please let me cum already,” I said with watery eyes.

Taeyong smiled, kissing my lips. “Cum with me baby.”

One brutal thrust and we both came crashing down. My head went back, my vision whitened. I heard as Taeyong groaned, his breaths trying to calm down.

“Stay here, I’ll go get something to clean you up,” Taeyong said, as he detached himself from me and laid me on the couch. I watched as he discarded the condom and left the door.

My eyes wandered to the ceiling, then closing. ‘I really just fucked Taeyong in my studio couch’ I thought. ‘Now I can’t look at it the same way any more.’ I sighed, then giggled. I waited here for his return.

For his love.

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© jhdyuiee

24.03.26

[goodday-goodmorn]

Rahhhh it’s Christmas and i’m back! Today’s feature (feature? Should i start calling them that? Sounds kinda cool-) is the amazing @charliemwrites, specifically a little drabble (unedited as always), based off of their Keeper/Kept AU. Not thier most recent stuff- (I think it’s Neighbor Johnny or the Woof Woof series-) You know what? Just- Here. Everything they write is gold <3

Anyhow, i present: Domesticity and Devotion

“Oh to be a wild bird…”

You sigh, chin in your palm as you leisurely stare out at the window.

“Or a stray cat.” You muse, watching as one of the kitties of the neighborhood walks along outside.

“Those fuckers have it good. No shitty job. No rent to pay. Just free pets and wandering the world… and if someone’s being a dick they can hiss and bite all they want.”

You hum, reaching for your drink and sipping on it leisurely.

“I don’t think I could survive in the wild though.”

You say after a moment, realizing how you’re cuddled up in your blanket and sipping on your wendy’s lemonade, the TV playing some random comfort show and your laptop open as you halfheartedly play Papa's freezeria.

“Can barley survive in domesticity.” You mumble, glancing towards the envelope on the kitchen counter that you got this morning about a rent increase.

You sigh.

“Maybe in my next life i’ll be lucky enough to be reborn as some rich white ladies cat. Those fuckers are livin’ better than me that’s for sure.”

————

This is not what you meant.

When you wistfully wished to never have to step foot into the capitalist hellscape that was life again- that was not an open invitation for you to be whisked away against your will.

Apparently though, the 6 foot giant of a military man named Simion Riley, heard it as one.

Because now here you were, pampered and cared for like a bloody sugar baby or pure breed persian cat. Kept at some random location and fed and groomed and meticulously attended too.

All against your will, mind you.

However it’s hard to complain because well- you’re living life good. This realization, of just how good you have it- hits you when you feel yourself getting genuinely angry at the shitty romance novel you were reading.

The Male lead was treating the MC like shit- and the MC was letting him get away with it!

You feel your face physically grimace. To calm yourself down (because you are getting genuinely heated when she lets him shove her to the damn floor over asking him for a drink-), you set your i-pad down.

(It had been a gift; something sort of like a kindle, where you could only read books and listen to music. You weren’t sure what Simon did to it exactly- but it wasn’t just published books you had access too, comics, original works, poetry, you could get all sorts of reading stuff on here.)

“This mother fucker-“

You mumble to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head before huffing and picking the device back up. You’re close to cheering as you read the MC’s internal dialogue about wanting to bite his ass- (Truely an MC after your own heart- they were one of the main reasons you were still reading this shitshow-)

And yet, what does the main character do?

They get the drink for themselves and then let him snatch it from their hand and down it.

Nope. You’re fucking done. You’re fumin’ now, irrationally angry on the MC’s behalf because they’ve been putting up with this guy for fifteen chapters now.

The audacity of men- oh my god. You can’t believe this guy.

“Who does he think he is?!”

You grumble and then just for your own purposes you yell—

“Simon!”

Predictably he is at your side in a moment, dropping everything for you.

You have your arms crossed, as you say, “Go get me a drink.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes crinkled just a tad at your strange mood but doesn’t deny the order. Simply asks,

“Cold or hot?”

“Cold.”

And with that he’s gone, returning with a fresh glass of ice cold lemonade, complete with a little lemon slice on the rim of the glass. You sip it, set it aside and cross your leg, tapping your forehead.

“Give me a kiss.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, gently kissing your forehead.

“Kneel.”

His eyes are crinkled now with a bit of amusement, but he drops to his knees easy. Gently holding onto your soft thighs. (Always so gentle with you.)

“Course, pretty.”

He mumbles low, head tilted up to you in a question, “Need me to take care of you?”

You hum, absentmindedly messing with his hair and ignoring the way the question sends a slow pool of warmth into your tummy.

“No.”

It’s decisive. You’re practically preening with satisfaction at his actions.

“You can go now.” You say and like that, he gets up. Not a complaint on his lips even when you notice he’s got a raging boner.

“Wait!”

You call and he pauses, looking at you with a questioning hum.

“Kiss me again.”

And he does so, this time a soft gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulls away he mumbles an ever softer-

“Dinner will be ready in 10.”

You nod and pick up your tablet with satisfaction curling low in your gut. (For the duration of your reading all you can think about is how Simion would never.)

————

“And another thing-!”

Simion is absentmindedly (as absentmindedly as Simion of all people can get anyway-) rubbing circles into your back as you rant. You’re sat in his lap, coaxed into sitting there after he asked about your day.

So obviously you started to babble about the book you were reading, which turned into a whole rant session about how stupid the Male lead was.

“That stupid idiot- that moron- you wanna know what he does simion?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question. You’re gonna tell him anyway. Still he hums to show he’s still listening.

“This bastard shoves them into the ground. To the ground! Can you believe the it?”

He shakes his head lightly with a tsk.

“Exactly. God and then when they get the drink he has the audacity to snatch it from their hand and down it in one gulp before they can even say anything.”

You shake your head, so far into your little rant you don’t realize how much you’ve made yourself comfortable. Sitting in his lap fully, ranting to him like he’s an old friend. Your tongue is loose with comfort right now. And that must be what possessed you to say—

“Me personally? I could never. If you ever pulled that shit— God i don’t even know what i’d do but it would not be pretty

You close your eyes with a nod to yourself at your own words. Not aware of the way Simon’s eyes seem to soften. Not until he gently kisses the top of your head.

“Never.”

He says it so quietly you almost miss it. (Feverintly. Reverently. Like the very idea is absurd.)

“If i ever do something like that you run and break into my gun cabinet and bloody shoot me.”

And god his voice- he’s 100 percent fucking serious. Suddenly you feel warm and small in his lap, utterly tiny compared to the sheer size of his devotion for you.

It’s all you can do to mumble out a weak.

“Good.”

And the rest of the night is spent with you reading the rest of the book together. When the MC finally is able to get rid of the Male Lead, it is a joyous occasion that ends up with her absolutely clocking the guy in the face with a champagne glass. Which then leads into a curious conversation with you and ghost about how much damage that would actually do.

It’s a good day.

[quizzicalwriter]

can you please do a johnny cade x fem!reader smut where they decide to use toys (and there's a lot of squ!rt!ng involved?) ty!

Sunny

Pairing: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Summary: A searing heat wave leaves Johnny with new ideas on how to beat the heat.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Temperature-play, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request! (Also I know it’s not technically toys, but I figured this would work! If you want a full-on toy fic with Johnny just shoot me an ask and I’ll write it!)

Word Count: 3.4k

“It’s 12:05, this is Lee Bayley on Tulsa’s KAKC with the sounds of sunshine!”

Sunshine your ass, whatever hung heavy in the midday sky felt more like a blazing inferno rather than the dainty sun you’d painted in the corner of your childhood drawings. You couldn’t bring yourself to be too peeved at the radio host, the man was likely indoors under heavy air conditioning.

At least he was a damn good DJ, nobody else seemed to be playing a mix of Santana and Van Morrison, not so early in the day anyhow. The hum of bass and methodical drums filled your one-bedroom apartment, the rare wind gust blowing your window blinds against the siding of your wall.

Johnny had hardly given you a moment to beg for a cold shower together before he’d pressed a kiss to your temple that morning, whispering words you didn’t quite catch - all you’d truly caught in your overly hot and tired state that morning had been his promise of something cold when he got back.

You rolled yourself off the muggy bed, kicking your feet in frustration as the top sheet tangled itself around your ankle, as if silently begging you not to leave it under the prying eye of the sun. You were in no mood, so with a grunt you rolled onto the floor, body emitting a soft thud as you came in contact with the shag carpet below.

In nothing but your underwear and an old beaten shirt of Johnny’s you trudged your way into the kitchen, opening up all the windows on your way through the apartment. Your radio softly hummed from your bedroom, some song you didn’t entirely recognize, but found yourself swaying your hips to nonetheless as you bent over to seek something cool in your fridge.

Surprise, surprise. There was nothing. Unless you counted the half-eaten clementine on the right side of the fridge, sitting all pitiful against a half-gallon of milk. As anyone would in their right mind when faced with overbearing summer heat, you closed your refrigerator and opened your freezer, crossing your arms against the frigid plastic before resting your cheek against your propped arms.

The freezer motor buzzed to life, adding to the already abundant noise of the city below pouring through your open windows. You continued humming to the faraway music sounding from your bedroom, losing yourself in the abundance of cool air as you shut your eyes. You’d likely have fallen asleep standing up if it hadn’t been for the slam of the front door, followed by a sing-song whistle, one you knew by heart.

“In here!” You called, not daring to move from your self-created frozen heaven.

“Freezing yourself?” Johnny asked through a gentle laugh, placing down two armfuls of paper bags. You only hummed in reply, tilting your head to the other side to give him a brief smile, one he returned in earnest despite the subtle redness against his cheeks.

“Got you somethin’.” He murmured, tone playful as he moved over to you. Your eyebrows lifted in intrigue, curiosity getting the better of you as you moved from the freezer, the door slamming shut behind you as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“And what’s that?” You asked with a smile.

“A treat.” He responded, rifling through the paper bags before handing you a cup that he’d so diligently wrapped in another paper bag. “Told you I’d get you somethin’ this mornin’, treat to beat the heat - or whatever the hell they say on those commercials.”

You would’ve groaned at his poor imitation of the commercial that plagued your television set, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the ice-cold treat in your grasp. With a giddy laugh, you flipped the top off, an audible, and admittedly dramatic moan leaving you as you spooned a hefty amount of the Icee into your mouth.

“Good right?” He asked, hand gently pushing your hip from the drawer behind you to fetch himself a spoon, digging in alongside you as you nodded. Icee’s were certainly a good way to cool your body down, and you definitely didn’t mind watching as Johnny moved beside you, tilting his head back in cold-induced euphoria.

“Very good.” You murmured around your plastic spoon, eyes watching him intently as he scooped another spoonful of the slushy into his mouth. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the way his face looked when flushed - either way, you were burning up and the Icee was doing little to quell the heat pooling in your stomach.

Oblivious to your plight, Johnny’s eyebrows lifted, metal spoon still in his mouth as he turned around to free a hefty bag of ice from one of the paper bags. You hummed in thanks around your spoon, earning you a quick nod as he pushed the bag toward the back corner of the freezer.

You placed the half-empty cup down behind you, hands slick and wet with condensation. You took your chance, slinking yourself behind Johnny, giving him no time to duck away before reaching your hands up and underneath his shirt, splaying your cold hands against his warm muscles.

“Jesus-“ He cried out, back arching away from your hands as he reached behind himself, pained words turning into pleading laughter as he turned himself around. “Quit it!”

He had more than enough strength to wrestle your arms snug against himself, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to torture him with your overly cold fingertips. But he loved the way your smile would crinkle the skin beside your eyes, how your nose would scrunch. It was precious to him, worth the goosebumps that raced across his skin, the droplets of cool water that raced down to the hem of his jeans - all of it.

In a bid to have you more pliant, he grabbed your forearms, pulling them around himself. You continued laughing, head falling back as you smiled up at him through your laughter-induced tears. He returned your smile, eyes focused on yours as you steadied your breaths. His hands dropped from your arms, instead moving to cup your jaw as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The taste of artificial cherry soared across your tastebuds, along with a sudden chill at the coldness of his tongue. You lifted your arms, draping them around his neck as your tongue moved with his, goosebumps spreading up your forearms at both the fading chill of his tongue paired with the burning lust settling heavily in your lower stomach.

His hands moved from your jaw, tracing along the curve of your waist before resting against the swell of your ass. He gave the plush flesh a harsh squeeze, pulling a surprised squeal from you, one that made him smile into your kiss before resuming his movements.

The bedroom wasn’t far away, but he had no patience, not when you were standing half-dressed in front of him - in his shirt, no less. His fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear, brushing his fingertips along your mound as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“Couch?” He asked, pulling away a fraction to gauge your reaction. When you nodded he backed away, watching with an amused smile as you ran toward the living room. Rather than follow behind you, he turned toward the freezer.

You sunk into the warm fabric of your couch, shallow breaths leaving you in droves as anticipation wore you thin, causing you to soak the thin fabric of your underwear. He reappeared with a glass filled to the brim with ice, condensation already fogging the bottom where his hand rested.

“Gotta cool you down, right?”

You nodded as he moved to sit beside you, placing the glass down on the adjacent coffee table. He then dipped his fingers into the glass, curling the digits around two cubes of ice. Two fingers kept one held firmly against his palm as he held the other between his thumb and index finger, maneuvering himself between your legs, free hand helping your legs to drape over his lap.

“Trust me?” He asked as cool water dropped onto your bare thigh from his palm. You nodded, breath catching in your throat at the plethora of ideas that soared through your mind. He caught your excitement with a smile, his free hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered, words careening on the edge of inaudible as he trailed an ice cube around the fullness of your bottom lip. You obeyed, eyes fluttering as you parted your lips. He smiled down at you, finding himself proud of how quickly you listened to him. “Good girl.”

You tilted your head back, allowing him to push the ice farther into your mouth, watching as his eyes focused on how quickly the ice melted against the heat of your tongue.

The sight of your tongue twitching underneath the ice, cold water dripping from the corner of your lips, Johnny couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to connect your lips to his. His hand grasped your jaw, fingers threading through your hair as his tongue met yours.

The steady drip of cool water against your waist pulled you away, goosebumps chasing the droplets in earnest. Johnny murmured an apology against your lips, hardly backing away an inch before his hand smoothed underneath your shirt, lifting the fabric up and over your head.

He took the half-melted ice cube between his fingers, placing it in his mouth as he situated himself between your thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, ice perched between his lips. You could only watch as he lowered himself, bitter cold making contact with the hollow of your stomach. He trailed his lips downward, goosebumps rising along your skin. Cool droplets of water headed down the side of your stomach, leaving you involuntarily arching from the couch as his hands kept your hips steady.

“Johnny-“ You whined, feeling your arousal coat the thin fabric of your underwear. He ignored your plea, instead hooking his fingers into the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down in tandem with his movements. You could feel him inching closer to your aching cunt, his right hand pushing your thighs apart, pinning your knee to the backrest of the couch.

You’d expected him to give in, to give you the pleasure you’d so desperately sought after. Instead, he sunk lower onto the couch, trailing the ice onto your inner thighs. You shivered, soft moans falling from you as droplets of water glided down to your cunt. Every so often his gaze would meet yours, the desperation hidden beneath his eyes becoming more ravenous with each passing second.

He propped himself up on his arm, plucking the ice from between his lips. It dripped down his forearm, accidentally causing water to smear against your inner thighs. In a makeshift apology for having teased you for so long he leaned down, right hand held away from your body as he pressed featherlight kisses against your damp inner thighs. You hadn’t the mind to be frustrated, only wanting his lips, fingers, or anything he’d give you.

“Been so patient.” He murmured after placing another open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. “So proud of you.”

Before you could conjure a response he shifted between your legs, brushing the edge of the ice against your clit. You gasped, hips bucking down against the couch. His free hand moved back to your hip, holding you steady as he continued swirling the ice against your aching clit. You were left writhing under his hold, mind muddled by the pleasure and lack of release.

In an act of mercy, he tossed the ice to the floor, hands splaying against the underside of your thighs, fingertips freezing against your skin. You rested into his hold, shifting your hips to bring yourself closer to him. He responded to the movement with a smile and a kiss to your thigh, trailing his lips downward until he reached your cunt. The heat from his lips burned, the shift in temperature drastic enough for your hips to buck up into his touch.

His tongue delved between your folds, your arousal coating his tastebuds, the taste pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he swirled his tongue around your clit. The feeling of his tongue against you paired with the obscene sounds of him sucking your clit into his mouth left you whining, hardly able to manage a measly breath as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

Your fingers threaded through his thick hair, the placement of your hands giving you enough balance against the couch cushions to rut up against his tongue. He never backed away, letting you use his mouth as he tried his damndest to keep up with the desperation-fueled bucks of your hips. His middle and ring fingers spread your folds, allowing him to lick a stripe up your cunt before he focused his attention back on your clit, swirling his tongue around it as he pushed his fingers into your cunt, curling them upward to brush against your g-spot.

“Fu-uck.” Was all you managed at the combination, word breathless as he thrusted his fingers into you, syncing his movements with his tongue. Your hips rocked down against the digits, pushing them deeper into your cunt, the depth causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling, the vibration of his voice centered around your clit. You could feel your lower stomach tensing, thighs trembling in his hold as he lapped at your cunt.

He could feel your orgasm building before you’d even registered it, too blinded by the onslaught of pleasure to recognize your cunt fluttering around his fingers, how your breaths had become short gasps of his name, your grasp on his hair tightening to an almost painful degree. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, pressing down against the plush skin as he continued pumping his fingers into you, massaging that spot within you that left you trembling.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, begging you to come undone against his tongue and around his fingers. You gave him his wish with a broken cry of his name, back arching from the cushion of the couch, your hips jerking as he continued his ministrations. His pace sped up, the pleasure almost brutal as he helped you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, soaking the fabric beneath you.

His lips and chin glistened underneath the overhead light, the sight making you flush as he wiped his skin dry with the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric off of himself afterward. You leaned up, thighs shaking with the movement as your hands found the front of his jeans. He looked down at you, lips parted as his breaths came in shuddering gasps. You kept his gaze as you unzipped his jeans, fingers sliding against the worn denim. You could feel his cock straining against the material, his chest heaving with each touch of your fingers against his shaft, no matter how featherlight.

You slunk your hand into the fly of his jeans, flattening your palm against the shaft of his cock, fingertips settling at the base as you leaned up onto your knees, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss as you swallowed the moans that left him at the feeling of your hand slowly moving along his aching cock. You’d hardly been able to wrap your fingers around him before he’d pushed you back onto the couch, right hand moving to cup the underside of your thigh, hiking it up to rest against his lower back.

“Please-“ You whined against his lips, hands eagerly pushing his jeans down his hips.

He leaned down onto his left arm, propping himself up as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself languidly as he swiped his tip along your soaked folds, finding himself unable to stop the groan that reverberated in his chest at the warmth of your cunt against him.

Your eyes met his in a silent plea for him to fuck you, to extinguish the fire burning heavy in your lower stomach, the very feeling that left you dripping, clenching around nothing as he teased you with the tip of his cock.

“Johnny-“ You panted impatiently.

With a roll of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching you out blissfully. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, causing your hips to twitch as you grew accustomed to his size. You two fucked often, yet every time you had to give yourself a moment to readjust to his size, not that he minded - if anything he seemed to love the sight of you squirming beneath him, lips parted as you took in shaken gasps while your cunt squeezed around him.

“Alright?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaning back to level his eye-line with yours. You nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed to pull his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, the lewd sound of your cum coating his shaft filling the shared silence between you.

Your legs tightened around his hips, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back, pushing him deeper into you in tandem with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes stayed locked with his, pupils blown, irises sharing every emotion you couldn’t put to words while overcome with such intense pleasure.

His pace was slow, methodical, ensuring he brushed against each spot inside of you that left you rolling your hips with his, wordlessly begging for more. With a kiss to your temple, he slunk his hand down between your damp bodies, circling his middle and ring finger around your clit.

A gasp rasped from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushion of the couch, the combination of his cock and fingers leaving you a mess of whimpers and heavy breaths. He watched you, face flushed a reddish hue from both the heat and the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock each time he bottomed out inside of you.

You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, warm and wet, stark in comparison to the remnants of water that lingered against your chest and stomach. His fingers picked up in their pace, the change pulling a drawn-out moan from you as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling your lower stomach tense.

“Johnny-“ You whined, words trembling.

“I know.” He replied, closing the distance between you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he trailed his lips down to your jaw. His cock twitched as his hips rocked forward, pace hastening as he felt your cunt fluttering around him. “I know, baby.”

With a sharp cry of his name, you were cumming around his cock. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, each one interrupted by a choked-back grunt as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down against you as he rutted into you, tiny breaths and whines of your name tumbling past his lips. He tried to muffle the noises by burying his face in the crook of your neck, but you heard them all the same, each noise causing your cunt to squeeze around him.

“Fuck, I-“ He breathed, eyebrows screwed together as he pushed himself up onto his left arm. He abruptly pulled out of you, the feeling of being empty leaving you whimpering as he pumped himself through his orgasm, spilling himself onto your lower stomach with a grunt of your name.

He collapsed onto you, placing light kisses against your throat in between whispered praises, his right hand smoothing up the side of your waist, fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as you both caught your breath.

“Definitely didn’t help us cool down.” You laughed out, looking over to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hummed in response, a lazy smile evident on his face, absolutely glowing in post-coital bliss.

“Can always take a shower.” He murmured against your skin, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You knew by his glance that neither of you would be getting clean in that shower, but who were you to turn an opportunity like that down?

“Deal.”

A/N: Did I listen to a radio track just to get a line from an old Tulsa station? Yes, yes I did. It’s a shame radio ain’t as popular as it used to be, and it’s a damn shame rock stations don’t play classic rock half as much as they used to. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this! It ain’t hot outside where I am, but I certainly miss southern summers enough to write about ‘em! Thank you all for the countless love and support you show me and my work, I appreciate you all so much!

[oogaboogaspookyman]

@sm-baby

I COULD BE HAPPY WITH SOMEONE NEW BUT MY HEART ACHES

[JUST FOR YOU]

It's been a while, hasn't it?

The office door creaks open

"Heya Pom! Brought back the paper i asked you yesterday?" Jax sounded so cheery. So happy while you just sat there on the chair like a drunkard... Well he's not a romance guy, of course he would be happy on his own. Damn rabbit.

"Not a word? What, still miss Sir Dentures?" He chuckles. He doesn't stop chuckling. What a clown... Thinks the jester. Ironic.

"Hm..."

His smile fades into a sincere frown.

Sigh

"Look here, Pom... It was necessary. He's free, paid for restoring us, we're all good now. No more murder and i got my nice charming scarf back and my favorite brushes, i'm the cool art teacher again!"

"So turn the dumb frown upside down aaaand please give me the paper i asked you? Please and thank you?"

"You're not a romance guy, of course you're fine. [___]hole..."

...

Oh...

"Oh for the love of- the censor is still here?! God darn it, i wanna say the f word for once! I loved doing that!"

You grip onto the table until it began to crack at the memory of him. Him, him, him. That stupid fucking human.

"Pom you may wanna lay off the grip there, i paid a lot for tha-"

A chunk is crushed. Like paper.

...

"Ah..."

Pomni lets go, revealing the chokehold put on the table left a permanent mark.

"Did ya dissociate again? I spoke well 'n clear, i paid a lot for that one!"

"Suck me, rabbit, you can get your s[__]t yourself" Pomni gets up and storms off from the office with no more words.

"Eh... Christ she's not okay..." Jax sighs

"Wonder if things coulda been better?"

Nobody helps at all.

Gangle offered to distract her, have a play, but Pomni wasn't in the mood.

Zooble offered a smoke but she didn't wanna try that kind of stuff.

Bubble is too much of an agent of chaos to give a shit, offered to commit "one (1) arson".

Kinger is just too far gone in his dementia, lucid when it was fucking funny and nothing more...

Nobody helps.

He knew how to help...

Only he knew...

Him...

The door to Ragatha's room creaks open

"Oh hey Pomni! How's your day go... Oh..." Ragatha notices Pomni is not any form of happy, if anything she looks like she's empty inside and wants to die...

"Oh you're not alright... Would you like to talk over tea..?"

"Mm... Will you let me vent properly?" Pomni groaned, still doubting that she won't pull out the whole everything is fine bullshit

"Oh- u-uhm- yes of- of course! Of course, i- i apologize for my past behavior, i really wasn't in my... B- best moments, at the time..." Ragatha stuttered. Don't stutter, you pretentious... ... Anyhow.

"Okay... Do you remember... Caine?" Ragatha already caught wind of the situation...

"The human with the dentures head? Yes, i remember him just fine, he restored us..."

"Yeah..."

"He was a good man, although didn't have the best manners he was alright nonetheless, knew how to make some laugh..." Ragatha and Pomni chuckled at the memory of Caine's wacky way with words. Jumping jellybeans? Seriously? That's a man right there!

A good dude...

"..." Pomni's pupils turned into black scribbles at the thought of him. The chuckling had faded as soon as it started, replaced by...

"I loved that human, if i'm being honest... He knew how to cheer me up, how to make the situation seem less bigger than it actually is... He knew how to kiss, god did he know..." Ragatha let out an "oh my" after hearing Caine kissed her, what else did they do..?!

"He... He was... He's amazing. Just that, amazing..." Pomni sighed, sipping on the tea she's given... "I loved him..." She began to sniff, putting down her cup.

"Oh dearie, come here-" Ragatha put down her cup and welcomed Pomni with open arms, knowing full well she needed to let it out of her system.

And that she did. Pomni got up and hugged Ragatha as tight as she could, and began to sob her lonely heart away, "He loved you too, Pomni, that cannot be denied..." Ragatha spoke as she held Pomni close. The poor jester, so alone...

How ironic.

She has friends, and yet she's lonely.

Caine had filled up a hole nobody could fill, and now that he's gotten out of the game after restoring everyone to their better conditions... That hole is empty once more, a gaping void and nothing to fill it.

How lonely this jester must be...

But it was necessary. He's free now.

[lild00td00t]

I loved your headcanons of the Strawhats with a shy s/o!! Are you able to do headcanons of the admirals with a shy s/o? I enjoy how you write them!

Marine Admirals with a Shy!S/O

I LOVE HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE BEEN REQUESTING THE ADMIRALS! THEY MAKE MY HEART SOOOOAAAARR ! ~ Anyhow please enjoy, I’m SO happy this series makes you happy, I’m thrilled to be making something you like <3 Thank you for being here!

Characters: Akainu, Kizaru, Aokiji, Fujitora, Sengoku

Akainu | Sakazuki

• I feel Akainu would get frustrated sometimes, especially if you have problems with people walking over you or being slow taking time with a response

• He doesn’t have a problem being assertive, he screams confidence and has no problem getting what he wants (demands). So if you’re a shy person that needs someone to be a mouth piece he’s more than willing to be in control and help you

• He would definitely teach you how to be more assertive and bold, though he’s not patient he still wants to you to do things on your own despite his preference for being in control

• He wouldn’t order for you, or make calls, he simply wants you to learn to do it on your own, and his methods are that of a birds. Push it out of a nest and hope it flies, if not, oh well :( however, if he’s not in a terrible mood he’ll order his food first, and want you to mimic his body language and mannerisms in order to get better

• If you find yourself becoming frustrated or scared he will tell you to simply take a moment to prepare yourself, I imagine he would watch you write out a script and tell you if it’s good or not, and he’d monitor how you deliver it

• If you need comfort after messing up he’ll simply give you a pat on the shoulder with a “practice more, it gets easier when you do. “

• Id give him a 6/10 just because I don’t imagine him being the best with someone shy, but at the same time with his controlling nature he manages

Kizaru | Borsalino

• God help you, this man will tease you non stop

• “ ooohh can you repeat that my love ? I didn’t heaaar youu ~ “

• In all seriousness, he simply fawns over how shy you are, and finds it endearing. He’s always pinching your cheeks and rubbing your head, you’re simply adorable to him

• He would do anything for you, including ordering for you and making calls on your behalf, yknow how you always have your mom go with you to doctors appointments? Kizaru is now your mom, and will gladly hold your hand while you get a shot but that’s a story for another imagine- don’t expect him to not tease you though

• 10/10, he’d take great care of someone shy !

Aokiji | Kuzan

• He’s definitely drawn to you. Whether it be your quiet nature, or your bashful exterior around others, you’ve gained his attention

• You’re both quiet around each other, over time you’ve learned to communicate with just looks alone, it’s quite humorous

• Aokiji is lazy. Like, this is a known fact, do NOT expect him to make phone calls or even order, because he can’t even get his own work done on time -

• He supports from afar, so if you need reassurance, the most you’d get is a pat on the back and a “ you’ve got this baby “ * insert eye roll here*

• He won’t tolerate people walking over you though and at that point WILL urge you to say something

• Aokiji does his best to show you that he’s supportive, the problem is, he didn’t fear people in a way that you do, so he doesn’t particularly understand why you do better in some situations then others-

• Definitely voices how proud he is of you though, he always praises you <3

• id give him a 7/10 with a shy partner

Fujitora | Issho

• The absolute sweetest of all the admirals, he already loves when you hold his arm when you walk, so if you feel nervous, link arms with him, guide him, he’ll gladly follow and make you feel so safe

• Is ALWAYS patient with you and memorizes your orders, if you want him to order first or for both of you he’ll gladly do so with no complaints. While you order he’ll have his hand rubbing up and down your back or simply on your back to show his support <3

• He always sticks up for you and reassures you that being shy/quiet is perfectly fine, but letting people walk over you because of your failure to voice your opinions or requests is not, he lets you know that what you have to say is important, just like anyone else

• He, like Kizaru, finds you simply adorable and cannot resist squishing your face and kissing you when you’ve done something successful, he’s so over the moon and beyond proud of you !

• 10/10 with a shy partner <3<3<3

Sengoku

• Sengoku would do pretty good with a shy S/O, I think he would love having someone to definitely balance him out personality wise

• Garp brings out his goofy/childish side, and you bring out his calm and collected side

• your quiet/shy nature makes him feel like he has to provide and stick up for you, it gives him a protective feeling over you, he’d be a mouth piece if needed but he doesn’t want to undermine you

• Much like Akainu, he likes to be in charge, so ordering the food or making calls is definitely up his alley much to your relief, though if you want to try he’d be more than happy to help you !

• his goat is your emotional support animal

• In all seriousness though Sengoku can be very supportive and loving, he never lets anyone talk over you and definitely lightens your mood with jokes if you’re feeling nervous or overwhelmed

• I’d give him a 9/10 with a shy S/O

[writtenjewels]

Zain Interferes

Baba was being really weird lately. He was generally in a good mood anyway, but it seemed like he was smiling all the time and getting these far-off looks in his eyes. It seemed to happen more often on certain days of the week. Zain could not figure it out. Finally, he decided to follow his father. To his disappointment, Baba led him to a regular coffee shop. Baba drank tea and chatted with one of the servers. The server was a man, though Zain couldn't tell much else about him.

Zain figured there must be something else going on. He observed a bit more. Baba went to the same coffee shop, sat in the same spot, and talked to the same server every visit. Zain noticed that Baba's moods were always better after visiting the coffee shop. Was the tea there really good or something?

Zain went in to see for himself. It wasn't bad, but not that much better than what they made at home. He hid in a corner booth to watch Baba's actions in the coffee shop. That was when he saw Baba really start acting weird. The almost awkward way he was with that server he always talked to didn't seem like Baba at all. He stumbled over words, and kept ordering refills that he didn't even drink. It wasn't until the server came by for the fourth time and Baba blurted out a dumb joke that Zain finally realized what was going on.

[Hey, Baba, why don't we go out into town together?] Zain suggested.

[All right,] Baba agreed. [What would you like to do?]

[Well, there's this coffee shop that I heard is pretty good...] Zain tried to make the words sound as casual as possible. He named the shop Baba kept visiting, and added, [Have you heard of it?]

[Oh.] Baba's face went red. [Yes, I think so. Are you sure that's what you want to do today?]

[Yeah, it might be fun!]

So they went to the coffee shop. Baba tried steering them away from the seat he usually took, but Zain pointed them back to it. It didn't take long for the server to come their way. The guy flashed a smile and touched his fingers to the brim of his cap.

“Looks like you got some company today, Salim,” he remarked in an American accent. Zain read the name-tag: Jason.

“Ah, yes, I do.” Zain tried not to gawk as Baba started fumbling with words. “He's my son. We're just out, um... spending the day together.”

“And you thought to treat him to our great tea selection, huh?” Jason's lip quirked up in a smile. “Then I better get the kettle on. Be back in a bit.” Baba nodded; Zain just stared.

[Baba!] he burst out the moment Jason was out of sight. [Are you kidding me?!]

[What's wrong?] Baba frowned, a little taken aback by Zain's outburst.

[Tell me you don't always do that when you talk to him!]

[Do what?] Zain sighed in exasperation. He was spared any words when Jason returned with two seaming cups of tea. Baba took his with a stammered thanks, his eyes darting briefly to Jason's face before dropping. Zain was about ready to scream.

“You'll have to tell me what you think of the tea,” Jason said to Zain. “Your dad loves it; he asks for at least four refills every time.”

“You don't say.” Zain shot a look at his father, who was busying himself with the tea. “Weird to come into a coffee shop to drink tea.”

“That's what I said!” Jason agreed, laughing. “Weird ain't a bad thing, though. 'Least, I don't think so.” His eyes darted briefly to Salim. “Anyhow, I'll leave y'all to it. Salim, you know how to signal when you want a refill.”

[Oh, my god, Baba,] Zain groaned once they were alone again.

[What?]

[It was like watching a car crash. So horrible, but I couldn't look away.] Baba stared at him in confusion. [Dont make me say it,] Zain sighed, [it's too embarrassing.]

[I really don't know what's gotten into you, Zain,] Baba said with a baffled shake of the head.

[The feeling is mutual, Baba. Or are you this flustered around all Americans?] Baba's eyes went wide. [I'm going to get him back over here,] Zain decided. [Please don't be weird.] Baba opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Jason was back. “Hi,” Zain greeted. “Baba and I were talking, and I wanted to know about your accent.”

“It's Southern,” Jason told him. “I think the phrase your dad used was 'cowboy accent.'” Jason glanced over to Salim. “You're kinda quiet today,” he observed. “Am I interrupting time with your boy?”

“No, no, it's not, um...”

“I don't mind,” Zain butted in. [Should I pretend I need to use the bathroom so you can talk to him alone?] he asked his father. Baba choked on his tea.

“Shit!” Jason was by Baba's side at once, gently patting his back. “You okay?”

“Y-yes, I... it just went down the wrong pipe.”

“You sure you're good?” Jason's hand was still there, now rubbing in gentle circles. Baba looked up and caught his eye. Zain hoped neither of them realized too soon just how close they were to each other.

“I'm good, Jason,” Baba answered softly. Jason's pale face went pink and he drew away from Baba.

“I'm gonna get you a fresh cup of tea.”

[Baba,] Zain spoke up, [please do us both a favor and give that guy your number when he comes back. I don't think I can handle this much longer.]

[vickyvicarious]

Dracula Declarations of Love

There is so much love, and so much talk of love, in this book. It's extremely hard to pick a favorite, but let's give it a go (or just get emotional over a bunch of quotes lined up together).

I tried to stick mostly to declarations/talk about (rather than acts of) love, primarily to focus on specific quotes and help me narrow it down to just twelve (still a big challenge). Before anyone asks, no, "I too can love" is not on here because Dracula's version of love doesn't stack up to the others for me in terms of emotional impact. And these were definitely chosen by my personal preference of specific quotes; there are a bunch of other great words of love that didn't make it in. Also, important note - this is not exclusively romantic love by any means.

The whole quotes don't fit in the poll, so please read below before you vote.

Full Quotes:

11 May, Lucy: "Oh, Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him!"

24 May, Quincey: "If that other fellow doesn't know his happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow."

19 August, Mina: "I have cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be next my heart, for he is in my heart. [...] I must write no more; I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must comfort me till we meet."

24 August, Jonathan and Mina: "Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to win it, if need be. [...] Well, my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life."

24 August, Mina: "Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me; so that in your own married life you too may be all happy as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises: a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be; but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now."

7 September, Arthur: '"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for her."'

17 September, Mina: "Jonathan asks me to send his 'respectful duty,' but I do not think that is good enough from the junior partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and tenses of the verb, I send you simply his 'love' instead."

30 September, Mina and Arthur: '"I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you were to her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not let me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can help in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little service—for Lucy's sake?" [...] "I know now how I suffered," he said, as he dried his eyes, "but I do not know even yet—and none other can ever know—how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother, will you not, for all our lives—for dear Lucy's sake?"'

3 October, Jonathan: '"Nonsense, Mina. It is a shame to me to hear such a word [unclean]. I would not hear it of you; and I shall not hear it from you. May God judge me by my deserts, and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, if by any act or will of mine anything ever come between us!" He put out his arms and folded her to his breast; and for a while she lay there sobbing."

3 October, Jonathan: "To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks."

11 October, Mina: "You are nearest and dearest and all the world to me; our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time."

31 October, Mina: "We are truly in the hands of God. He alone knows what may be, and I pray Him, with all the strength of my sad and humble soul, that He will watch over my beloved husband; that whatever may happen, Jonathan may know that I loved him and honoured him more than I can say, and that my latest and truest thought will be always for him."

[mysteriousdragon2]

Howdy everyone. To those who are reading this, I’ll be venting once again. However, this might be a bit more personal. You’re more than free to disregard this post, but to those who read it, thank you for your time.

So…life’s been a complete disaster. My household treats me poorly daily, and I unfortunately cannot escape this situation until I get money to move out.

My parents have hurt me in ways that I cannot explain fully. But I’ll say this for certain: mental abuse. Ever since I was a child, it’s been an ongoing issue. I’m told I deserve to get bullied, told that I’ll never amount to anything, told that I’m a freak who doesn’t deserve anything. No gifts, no friends, no happiness. And everytime I try to be happy for a split second, it gets demolished by my parents with their negative comments about me.

Aches me daily. The more I keep living, the more I sink in those words, and feel useless. I can’t even create art without having someone from my household telling me it’s a waste of time to work on. And art is something I’ve been doing practically all my life.

I despise the fact that I’m being threatened to get kicked out of home if I fail to obey my parents’ unrealistic expectations. When I already do that, it’s bringing me into a state of misery.

Heck, I feel like a terrible friend to those who are currently my friend. I just keep spewing my moronic feelings, and have no input about it. Sometimes I think it’s best that I remain silent about venting to my friends. I’m only making this post just to notify others about how I’ve been and my feelings over the past couple years.

Sometimes, I have mood swings and it sets me into unwanted places. Although random, they are manageable. Usually doing something I enjoy solves this. But it’s really irritating to have my parents tell me that art doesn’t do anything to a person. Boy are they wrong. Art has made me very creative and patient, and that is wonderful. My art has gotten better thanks to the many art trades I’ve done with people.

Yet, I feel out of it. With just about anything I do, my stress level keeps getting worse to certain things. I’m claustrophobic, so being around a ton of people or closed spaces and or objects get my mind racing. I hate that I’ve met people joking about claustrophobia, it’s not okay. When people treat a phobia as a joke, please don’t do that. It grinds my gears.

Anyhow, sometimes I feel like I’m inferior sad a person and a friend. And often I choose to avoid people for the sake of their health, plus others are busy, so I get it.

What upsets me, is getting abandoned. By my close friends especially. Or anybody that’s genuinely kind to me. Countless times have I keep ghosted without a word by many people, and it’s never a pleasant feeling. You feel shackled and shut down. The fact this happens often really shows how terrible I am. But to those who have been my friend for a while, thank you.

The only thing keeping me intact at the moment, is Hol Horse. He’s been nothing but an example I follow, to always be a number 2. And to never strive for perfection, or being a perfectionist. He has his own way of life, and so do I want to aim for that someday. He means so much to me, more than I can express.

Sorry for the venting. Just wanted to express how I’ve been feeling and what’s going on. Thanks to those who read it.

Have a good one, everyone.