#being a sad tired old man who tried too hard in the wrong ways and not enough in the right ones

[allysunny]

Holo Heart | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: Haunted by the loss of his wife, Miguel decides to take matters into his own hands, and grant himself the second chance he's been wishing for.

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Angst, sad Miguel, mentions of blood, character death, suggestive themes (just a smidge, really), do mention if I've missed anything!

A/N: Hey guys! So, I've been mostly a reader in here, but the other day I was doing dishes and this idea sort of popped in my head, and I thought about sharing it with all of you! English is not my first language so I'd like to apologize in advance for any mistakes. I also have not spoken Spanish in a few years, so, once again, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

I haven't written in a while, and this is my first tumblr fic, so please be gentle! But I'd love to read your thoughts and criticism in the comments :) I also tried to make this super inclusive, so aside from the reader being a woman, there's no specifications of hair, skin tone, ethnicity, etc. I hope you like it!

Miguel has always prided himself in being a smart man, one who always made sure to achieve his goals, and do it efficiently. 

He created the Spider Society, made sure the canon was intact, and carried the weight of the world in his shoulders. It was hard, but he made it work. In fact, he had to. He’d already lost so much; he couldn’t afford to lose more.

Which was why he couldn’t take risks. Every task was carefully calculated, every mission was deliberately planned, every meeting brief and straight to the point. The more time he could spend inside his office, planning, scheming, strategizing, making sure everything went exactly according to plan, the better.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple, and human nature had other plans for him.

All those late nights working all by himself with no one other than Lyla and at least half a dozen coffee cups beside him were taking a toll on his mental health. As much as Miguel enjoyed spending time by himself (it was impossible to spend time in the company of other Spider-People for more than a few minutes before the need to excuse himself and sigh became too strong. Do not let him get started on Peter B. Parker. Please.), he was starting to miss human interaction more and more.

But not just any human interaction.

Looking over at his watch, Miguel registered the glowing light that alerted him of his loneliness once again. 03:47 am. Working late until exhaustion had become a frequent occurrence after the accident. It was his own way of dealing with the pain, with all the grief. It made him forget, and the everlasting numbness in his chest heart go away, if only for a few hours.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his face. His muscles felt tight, the knots in his back and shoulders ever so present. He slumped back in his chair and leaned his hair back, taking all of the exhaustion in.

“You okay boss?” Lyla asked, flickering right beside his head. The AI could get on his nerves more often than not, but Miguel was glad it seemed to care about him. Well, sure, he’d programmed it that way, but occasionally even he needed a small check-up. It kept him sane.

“Yeah, sure,” His voice was just above a whisper, and yet it was still as commanding and assertive as always. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Oh wow, you think? They don’t call you a genius for nothing!” Miguel winced at the perkiness of her voice. Sometimes he forgot tiring Lyla out wasn’t a possibility. She was an AI and therefore had energy to spare. He waved her off quickly, and with a small salute, she flickered away, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts once again.

After a few quiet moments, he turned to the black screens in front of him.            

“I shouldn’t…” Was the thought that crossed his mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew what happened whenever he turned those screens on, when he turned them on with the purpose of reliving old memories.

But before he could even acknowledge what he’d done, the whole lab was engulfed in bright lights, accompanied by soft surrounding background noise.   

Defeated, he looked up at them, eyes filled with something between longing and adoration, a mix reserved for only one person.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Nueva York, look who it is!” Although the phone’s camera was turned to him, it was your voice making itself heard. The voice he adored so much, the only voice he could stand to hear for hours on end, the voice he would give anything to listen to once again.

The Miguel in the video was dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald handkerchief adorning his breast pocket. His hair was neatly styled back, allowing for his “godly sculpted cheekbones” (your words, not his) to be shown in all its glory. He was standing inside your old bedroom, fixing his attire in front of a wall length mirror.

“Cariño, won’t you turn that off?” He grumbled softly, turning to face the camera. Although his voice had a tinge of annoyance to it, his lips were quick to betray him, curling up in a soft smile.

Your angelic chuckle boomed through the room, and Miguel’s breath hitched.

There you were.

Draped in a light-coloured green silk dressed that perfectly flattered your figure, hugging you in all the right places, your hair carefully brushed to the side. You smiled, positioning the phone on top of your vanity, making sure it wouldn’t fall. Once you were sure of its security, you made your way to him, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my fault my husband is so devilishly handsome!” Your hand reached out to hold his arm, nudging him towards the phone’s periphery. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be tired of your antics, but his arm snaked around your waist instinctively, giving it a gentle tug. A reminder that he was there with you. No matter what, he would always be there.

No matter what.

“Don’t you look dashing, Mr. O’Hara?” Your smile. Miguel would give anything to see it in person again. He’d do anything to have you smile at him like you always did one more time. Like he was the only person that existed, that mattered. Your smile had always been capable of lighting up a whole room. In fact, you were capable of that, all by yourself. Your kindness, your optimism, your drive and ambition. People were naturally drawn to you – the fact you were nothing short of stunning was only a bonus. In fact, you had made Miguel experience what jealousy felt like for the first time. The ugly feeling had gnawed and gnawed at him, eating him up from the inside every time a cheeky coworker got too close for comfort, complimenting your “beautiful eyes”, or bold friends pulled you close by the waist, trying all sorts of plans to get their hands on you.

But you’d never really needed him to call him out. You could take care of yourself just fine, and that’s one of the things Miguel most loved about you. Sure, he relished in the feeling of protecting you. Of putting his arms around your figure and engulfing you in his presence, his hold being the only place no harm could ever even get a glimpse of you. But he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled up his face whenever you rejected any other men’s advances, swatting their hands off you and giving them dead stares.

The him on the screen chuckled, pressing you close against him, his frame towering over you. He bent down slightly, nuzzling his face against your hair. Another gesture he did without thinking – it was something that brought him peace. Your scent felt like home, the sweet aroma of your favourite shampoo bringing him instant relief.

“Si alguien aqui es diabolicamente hermosa, eres tú, Mrs. O’Hara.” Screen-Miguel brought his lips to your ear, and the way your whole body shuddered made him chuckle. That, and the way your cheeks took on a soft glow. “Now, what is all this?” He glanced at the camera once again, quirking up an eyebrow.

“You know my Spanish isn’t that good yet…” The pout on your lips was just too adorable – it took Miguel (screen one or not) all his strength not to whisk you in his arms and capture your lips with his. “Anyways, just wanted to capture this moment.” You shrug, hands wandering around to pinch his side. Your husband’s squeal would have been unnoticeable by anyone else – but not you. Not you, whom he showed his softer side to, not you, whom he showered with love and tenderness, whose ground he worshipped. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you know.” One would almost miss the way your voice cracked, but a slight waver was enough for Miguel and his screen counterpart to frown.

“I know… I’m sorry corazón. I really am…” Screen-Miguel turned you towards him, brushing the hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. Staring into your eyes, Miguel could swear you had this magical ability to make him lose all track of time. In fact, he could swear that was true in about everything you did. When you got dressed in the morning, when you cooked his favourite empanadas, when you told him off whenever he was too hard on himself or others around him, when you cried out his name so nicely, his lips on your neck-

“But today’s all about you, alright? I’ll make up for it. I promise.” His lips brushed your temple, not only a promise to you, but himself. His work in the Spider Society had been piling up. Anomalies on top of anomalies, mistakes after mistakes, and only himself to take care of everything. He’d left you waiting for him more than once, and more than once he’d found you asleep by the time he got back. It hurt him deeply every time it happened. In fact, the last time it happened, your pillow had tear stains on him.

To say such sight had broken his heart was an understatement.

“Technically today’s about the bride…” A soft chuckle from you.

“You were my bride once.” A wink from him.

“I haven’t been a bride in a long time.”

“You’ll always be my beautiful bride.” And with this, Miguel brought you even closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek. His breath fanned your cheek and suddenly, his lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss, standing on the tips of your toes to lovingly cup his cheeks with both your hands. While your fingers traced his jaw exactly how you knew he liked, his hands got a bit busier, leaving your body to tug on the straps that held your silk dress together.

Once you figured what he was up to, you pushed him away, quirking an eyebrow as you tried to hide a smirk.

“Nuh-uh mister, we have a church to be at in 20 minutes, and it’s a 10-minute drive!” You asserted, shaking your head at him. It didn’t matter that the room’s temperature seemingly shot up, and your husband was looking truly tempting – you were not going to let your horniness get the better of you. At least, well, not today.

“No se darán cuenta de que llegamos tarde, te prometo que seré rápido” Miguel mumbled, lips pressing hot kisses against the crook of your neck, hands still dexterously tugging at your dress.

“No Spanish skills necessary to know you’re telling me a big fat lie. You’re never quick with me.” You laughed loudly, and the sound was enough for both Miguels to fall in love with you all over again. A pair of hands were on his chest, and he was softly pulled away. You fixed the straps of your dress and flattened your attire before standing straight. “Time to go, Mr. O’Hara.”

“You’ve never complained about me not being quick.” Was his muttered response, accompanied by a smug smile. But for all the adoration and desire he felt for you, he was even more whipped for your resolve. If you said it was time to go, it was probably time to go. So, he quickly adjusted his suit, turning to face the phone’s camera once again. “Vale, vale. Ya es hora de irnos, muñeca.”

Your figure got closer and closer, and at once, the video had ended.

Miguel stared at your smiling figure in his screen for a few minutes, and then shut everything off, the reflection of his own tired face staring back at him. It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his hands that he realised he was crying.

He missed you.

Constantly, continuously, perpetually.

You were on his mind at all times. When he roamed the halls of the Spider Society without you by his side to keep him company, when he went out for those cafeteria empanadas that could never compare to yours, when he worked himself to exhaustion without your deft fingers to work on the knots on his back, without your soft kisses to calm him down after he got mad at the world.

And everything around him reminded him of you.

It was impossible to walk around the streets of Nueva York without being distracted by the colours, the sounds, the sights, the people. It all brought his mind back to the love of his life, the person he found it impossibly hard to live without. The florist near your old apartment, the one he’d buy flowers from every other week, the pizza place that was “so bad, Italians surely had to be crying” according to you, even the goddamned dogs on the street reminded him of the way you’d kneel down and act like an excited child every time you saw one.

It was absolute torture to live without you.

But the worst of all, was waking up in the morning.

Some days, he swore he could feel your touch. The way your fingers traced his jaw and slowly made its way to his hair, playing with his brown locks. Your touch was soft, comforting, a small gesture to remind him he was safe. You often expressed how much you adored watching Miguel when he slept. “You look so relaxed. No furrow in your brow, no scowl in your lips. You look so peaceful.” Was what you told him every time, and there was no way he could ever not grant your every wish.

And then it was if he could hear your voice. Your sweet, melodic voice, telling him “Good morning, my love” in that sleep-laced voice he adored so much. And Miguel would close his eyes and try his best to remain in that place not yet tainted by reality but not entirely claimed by dream. “Wake up, guapo” was the next thing you’d say, your imperfect Spanish-skills manifesting. You’d been adamant on learning Spanish for your husband, and fuck if it didn’t make Miguel’s heart swell. The way his wife (then girlfriend) was so willing to learn the language he grew up with in order to become closer to him made him feel all kinds of positive emotions, and Miguel could swear his love for you grew more and more each passing day.

And then, you’d say it.

“Te quiero, mi amor.” It was the one phrase you used repeatedly, and the one he loved hearing you say the most. It fell from your lips naturally, as if you had been saying it your entire life, with a sweetness reserved for him and only him.

Your touch felt so real. Your voice sounded so real.

So, he would stay still, hoping that remaining motionless would grant him just one more second with you. Hoping that his immobility would be enough for you to return to him, even if just for a few brief moments.

But it never was.

Seconds would go by, and your touch would waver. Your voice would become distant, your feeble existence flittering away, leaving him with nothing but the painful reminder that his sheets would forever be cold, his place in his bed would always be empty, his life would no longer have the warmth and serenity your love brought to him.

Miguel would glance at your delicate figure once again, his mind trying to memorise you right then and there – and just as quickly as you manifested, you would disappear.

Deserting him of all he ever loved.

He was tired of being alone. Tired of waking up besides cold white sheets, of not having your sweet praises to assure him he was doing the right thing at HQ, simply tired of leading an existence without you.

There was no way he could bring you back – hell, he knew first hand that toying with the multiverse was a bad idea. But it did hurt him, going on without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he could go on if you weren’t there, next to him.

All he needed was your presence, your company. All he needed was to apologize and hear your sweet voice again, and damn it if he wouldn’t be thankful.

And that’s when the idea came to him.

This was a prototype Miguel had been developing for a while.

It was like Lyla, the only difference being the AI’s purpose. Lyla was there to assist him, to help him out with missions, anomalies, and the management of the Spider Society. The project he was working on served another goal. It was more of a companion than an assistant, it was to always remain by his side, to cure him of his loneliness, of his anguish and despair.

The screen in front of Miguel lit up after he configured the final few settings. A tweak here, a little adjustment there, some fine tuning over there. Should this work, Miguel would no longer have to have his thoughts plagued by the heartbreak your loss so constantly granted him.

“Good morning,” Like magic (or better yet, technology), a figure materialised before him. It was hard to explain just what it was, or what it looked like. It was as if a transparent person had solidified into existence in his presence. While it had the form of a human, a head, a torso, two arms and legs, the figure was devoid of any features. No eyes, no nose, no lips or ears, no hair. It was almost like a hologram of a mannequin, a blank slate of a person he would later shape according to his vision.

Miguel stared back at the figure, not completely convinced, at least not yet, of what he was doing. Sure, he’d worked day and night for the past few weeks, he’d foregone sleep and adopted coffee as his only meal in order bring his project into fruition, but now that it was there, right before his eyes, the possibility of achieving his goal was terrifying.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure of talking to?” The figure inquired, its voice devoid of any emotions.

After a moment of silence, Miguel spoke up.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He began, “I am your creator.”

“Greeting, Miguel O’Hara.” The program answered back. “I am the Cognitive Operations and Machine Personalized Interface for Nurturing. Or rather COMPANION, for short. I was created to act as a colleague, a confidant and friend. As my name implies, my goal is to provide a nurturing presence to whoever is controlling me.” Having said this, it looked up at Miguel and something flashed in its visual panel – the closest thing this body had to a pair of eyes – and the words AUTHORISE SCAN? flashed on the main screen before the entity spoke up once again.

“Would you like me to scan you, Miguel O’Hara? By scanning you, I can take a look at your vital signs, your physicality, and even run a scan of your psyche to provide you with a companion that would, according to my calculations, be the best possible match for you.”

But Miguel did not want a tailored companion. He did not need to be looked at by any AI to be told who or what would act as the best possible match for him. He did not need any technology to figure out what could possibly be the best person to keep him company.

“That will not be necessary,” he asserted, “No scan is to be run. I am to personally customise you until you conform to my exact specifications. Is that clear?”

The being nodded, its posture straight as an arrow.

“I understand. Would you like to begin the customisation process?” It asked.

Miguel hesitated. Should he be doing this? It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. He was a genius, after all, and this was just a new project. He’d created Lyla once, and look how far that got him, the good his AI did not only for himself, but the Spider Society and by consequence, the multiverse.

In fact, everything he did had helped the Spider Society in the long run. Everything he did was for the good of the Spider Society, the thing he worked on for years and years, the thing he built from scratch and ultimately led to his demise.

Wasn’t it time for him to be selfish?

“Yes. I’d like to begin the customisation process.” Miguel sat down on his chair once again, exhaling loudly through his nose. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He was allowed to be a genius scientist, he was allowed to build new things, and he was most of all, allowed to be selfish after all that he’d done for the multiverse.

“From now on,” he started, “You are to respond to [N/N].” It had been months since he’d last uttered that nickname. The sweet little nickname he always referred to you as. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a variation of your name, but it nearly brought tears to his eyes, because for the first time, you weren’t there to turn around and face him with that stunning grin of yours.

(“So, no cariño, or mi amor, or chiquita?” You’d once inquired, legs crossed as you sat on your husband’s desk, right in front of him.

“I must remain professional, [Y/N]. I have a reputation to uphold.” Was his response as he crossed his arms. If anyone else were to be on his lab, let alone sit on top of his desk, he would go feral. But he couldn’t find it in himself to berate you or tell you to move – you could do anything your heart desired, and Miguel would adore you for it.

“And you’re willing to hurt your poor wife’s feelings over a reputation?” You faked a pout, batting your eyelashes at him, something you knew he couldn’t resist.

“I can think of a few ways to make it up to my wife, actually.” And without missing a beat, you were suddenly on his lap, smiling as his lips moved with your and his hands delicately ran through your body.

Miguel did not do good on his promise. On the second day after this conversation, he’d asked you “Mi amor, won’t you please get me the prototype I left on our dining table back home?” In front of everyone else and gave up. It was physically impossible for him not to treat you with the gentleness he was so used to from you.)

“[N/N]. I understand. Is it short for anything else?”

Miguel remained silent for a few seconds, before nodding.

“It’s short for [Y/N].” The name left his lips the same way it always did. With adoration, with love, with heartbreak. He hadn’t uttered it in a long time and mentally chastised himself for doing so, as if not voicing it out loud was somehow disgracing your memory. He shook the thought away.

The entity nodded once again.

“I understand. Am I to respond to [Y/N] as well?”

“Yes.”

Lyla had been quietly hearing whatever was going on inside Miguel’s lab from afar. She’d seen him work nonstop, day and night, for the past few weeks, always being told “It’s a new project” and nothing more. Miguel had pushed her away (just as he had done with everyone else), and it was only when the little AI figure heard the new program’s purpose and your name that it all clicked together. Although she was uncapable of feelings, it upset her to see Miguel so broken. But much to her dismay, there was nothing she or anyone else could do.

The truth was, no one had seen him during those few weeks. He had locked himself and dived headfirst into this project, refusing to let anyone in, literally or figuratively, threatening to do unspeakable things to whoever disturbed him while he worked.

She shook her head and looked at him once again, wondering what he would do next.

The entity, now named [Y/N], was the next one to speak.

“I understand this is most commonly used as a female name. Would you like for me to take the form of a woman?”

Miguel nodded, and the entity’s form shaped before his eyes. It became softer, gentle. Its contours shifted until they exuded an air of grace, each line and curve seemed harmonious and supple, different from his own sharp and broad figure. And yet, it didn’t resemble any women he knew. Yet.

“Now that I have a name and your preferred anatomy, would you like to create a personality for me?” [Y/N] probed. Her thoroughness made Miguel falter. This was happening way too fast. First a name, now a personality. He hadn’t yet come to terms with your loss, at least not properly, and this whole thing was giving him major whiplash. After losing you, he hadn’t been able to process his feelings. Now he was asking himself to push all of that aside in order to create what would be his most ambitious task. Nevertheless, he pushed through.

“How so?”

[Y/N] nodded and spoke once again. Now that she had taken the form of a woman, her voice was somewhat softer. It was hard to pinpoint whether it was real or not, if it was from a real person or not, but it did not bring Miguel any comfort.

“By giving me your preferred traits, you can arrange for me a personality that will align with your exact specifications, as you put it. Perhaps you’d like me to be quieter and more reserved, in order not to disturb you too much. Or maybe you would prefer if I was loud and cheerful. It is up to you which traits I am given. I am here to provide company and a nurturing presence, so feel free to take your time until I meet your exact wishes.”

Miguel pondered briefly. What traits would he like this… this thing to have? At first, he tried to pretend, get his mind off it, try to convince himself he was merely making an AI program to keep him company. But he could not lie to himself any longer.

He wasn’t simply creating an AI companion.

He was creating you.

And after mulling it over one last time, he decided to stop being so fucking uptight and go through with the task at hand. This is why he had been working so hard. His goal was so close, it was right in front of him to just take it, and here he was, acting like a coward.

“I want you to be kind,” Miguel remembered how kind to a fault you were. Always willing to help others, always willing to cheer them up and put their needs before your own. So selfless, so ready to lend a helping hand. “And optimistic, positive. I want you to always see the bright side of things,” You had this ability of turning even the most despairing moments into hopeful ones, advising him to not let the dark thoughts get the best of him. You’d hold your head up high and remind him of who he was; Spiderman 2099, and that he had nothing to fear, for it’d work out in the end.

“I want you to be polite and cheerful. Simply… Simply happy to exist.” You’d turn even the blandest of moments into memories he’d want to keep forever. In one moment, Miguel would be laying around, holding you close in his arms, the next you’d be taking him to the rooftop of your building to “catch a glimpse of Zeus’s angry fit” whenever thunder roared through the sky. Cleaning your shared apartment could be considered a boring chore to many, but they did not have you, who made up games out of every single task, like catching socks or vacuuming. “You will see the beauty in things. And I want you to be ambitious.”

Sure, Miguel had spent countless nights hunched over his desk, trying to come up with the perfect suit, or trying to keep hold of the canon, but you were no stranger to nighttime restlessness. You’d sit by his side work on your own tasks, intent of going to sleep only, and only when you wrapped everything up. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve laughed. He was once the one to wrap his arms around you, face on the crook of your neck as he whispered, “You’ve worked hard enough, chiquita. Time for bed.” Unfortunately for him, in a cruel twist of fate, the roles had reversed for the worse. 

“Be stubborn,” Miguel continued, his voice, for once, not wavering. He was so resolutely determined to carry on with this venture, that for once, he didn’t feel his eyes tearing up as the memories of you crawled back inside his mind. “Especially when it comes to me. I… I tend to be quite headstrong when it comes to work. I often need a push.”

[Y/N] nodded once more.

“Remember, you can always adjust my personality to your liking. If you find you do not enjoy my stubbornness, you can change it and I will adjust my personality accordingly.”

It seemed so… Devoid of life. Sure, Miguel had given it some character traits already, but the whole thing wouldn’t be complete until he said so.

“Would you like to customise my voice now?” [Y/N] asked, “You can suggest a pitch and a tone, as well as a voice type. But I am also programmed to analyse any voice sources you provide and copy them. Which would you like to do?”

Miguel sighed. This whole process was getting harder and harder to get through it. It was one thing to give his new companion your name, your personality. But to give it your voice as well? That would be the same thing as making this being invincible, since your voice was the only one he ever seemed to obey. Even the Spider-People around him knew, with Peter teasing him endlessly about how he was “nothing more than a lovestruck puppy whenever you asked him for anything”. Miguel had always been on your beck and call, always willing to do anything you asked of him. By giving this being, this creature, this thing, your voice? He was setting himself up for disaster.

“I… I want you to scan a voice.”

The entity nodded.

“Please do provide me with enough samples of the voice you would like to copy. Preferably, samples that are not too monotonous in tone or in speech. By analysing all aspects of a voice, I can provide a more accurate result.”

Miguel had the following choices:

He could either turn on his screens, open a few folders named “[Y/N]”, and play one of the few hundreds of videos he had on you, or open his phone, connect it to said screens, and play the few voicemails you’d left him throughout your relationship.

There were a few differences in each choice, of course. The videos he kept on you were golden memories he gazed upon on lonely nights. Birthday parties, walks along the sunset, lazy mornings filled with raspy “Get this phone out of my face, mi amor”s, and bubbly “Mr. O’Hara’s a bit grumpy today, isn’t he?”s. Memories of you filming him while he set up your furniture, laughing along as you called him “Bob the Builder”, taped reminders of you cooking dinner for him, the cute little apron he so adored wrapped snugly around your hips, even a few images of when he fell asleep on your lap and you softly ran your fingers through his curls, singing him to sleep, murmuring that lullaby he so adored.

Compared to the voicemails on his phone, these videos were precious. They were worth more than what anyone could offer, in fact, they were priceless. These memories were the ones Miguel held so dear, the ones he cried over, the ones he spent months reminiscing upon after your loss.

On his phone, were 3 measly audio messages you’d left on three different instances of his life.

Usually, you never got to leave voicemails – Miguel would pick up on the first or second ring, always the attentive partner. But on the last few months of your life, that changed completely. And Miguel couldn’t help but chastise himself over it, cursing at himself whenever he remembers the hurt in your voice, the tears that he knew threatened to slip from your eyes and down your cheeks.

He didn’t deserve to use those videos as voice samples. He didn’t deserve to see you in your full glory, laughing at him, smiling and promising him eternal love and kindness. He didn’t deserve to hear your bubbling laughter once more, or fawn over your dazzling smile, he didn’t deserve to miss you. Not when he was the reason you were gone.

So, he decided to pull out his phone, intent on suffering. Intent on reminding himself of why you were gone, why he suffered so much. Miguel didn’t think he deserved to gaze at you in all your splendour. He didn’t think he, a mere, foolish, sinning mortal, was worthy of the living goddess that had once blessed his life, and now haunted his ever moment, gone forever.

“Hey Miggy!” Your voice, your voice was heard through his speakers. “I finally found the curry powder! Had to beat a lady with a stick to get it! It was almost out of stock! Anyway, why don’t you get started on the rice? I’ll be home in 10 and we can finish the recipe! Alright, that was it! Love you honey, see you home! End call. End call! End voicemail! How do you turn this thing off? End call. END CA-“ You were abruptly cut off as the call ended. Miguel chuckled dryly. He was the one to install the Bluetooth system on your phone (“Don’t want you texting and driving”, he had said.), and you had always complained about how your phone never picked up on you wanting to end calls. It became sort of an inside joke, especially since he managed to active and deactivate the system at first try, and it took you four or five to get it done.

(“It’s unfair,” You’d chided, wearing the most adorable pout and crossing your arms, “Technology loves you better.”)

Miguel looked at [Y/N] once again, hoping something, anything, to happen. But his program seemed to be patiently waiting for him to continue. One message was clearly not enough.

He pressed the second voicemail.

“Hey there, honey,” There was no mistaking the worry in your voice. It was still the one he loved so dearly, but laced in something sad, something that plagued him with terrible thoughts and churned inside him. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t worry, but you told me you’d be home by 7, and, well, it’s almost 9…” A soft pause followed, and Miguel could almost visualise it: you, sitting on your couch, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you nibbled your worries away. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it’s probably nothing serious, but, well, you know me-“ A dry chuckle “-Always worrying about my Miggy… Anyway, do tell me when you’re on your way, alright? I have a surprise for you, so get your pretty ass back home, Mr!”

End of call.

That was the first, well, not so good voice you’d ever left him.

If he could turn back time, Miguel would do it without hesitation. He’d go back to that very same day, convince his past self to stop working, and to go home to his wife. He’d tell past-him that his obsession with work was getting out of hand, and that he should stop it while he has the time, because once he’d fully immersed himself in his work, there was no coming back.

But he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” The body in front of him spoke once again. “But these samples are not enough for me to create a voice profile. The procedure it at 74% completion. Would you like for me to continue analysing, or should I start over with another profile?”

Shit. He didn’t want it to come to this, he did not want to listen to that last voice message. He was willing to walk through fire, to go straight through hell as many times as asked of him, but that message was torture. No, it was worse than torture. Torture ended. Either in death, or in relief. But this? Whatever this was, it did not end. This message was perpetual suffering, playing in loop inside his head. Over, and over, and over again.  

With whatever strength he still possessed, Miguel pressed the third and last voicemail.

“Miguel…” You had been crying. And if you hadn’t, you were just about to. Miguel recognised the knot in your throat, the lump that kept you from speaking and threatened to turn into tears. He hated that voice. The voice that meant you were hurting. The voice that meant he had hurt you. “I don’t know where you are, but… I shouldn’t have to wonder, because you were supposed to be here… Where are you?” This was when you started to cry. “Do you know how humiliated I was just now…? Do you know how stupid I felt, waiting, sitting on that exam room by myself?” You were sniffling. God, how Miguel wished he could just go back and hug you, how he wished he could dry your tears and promise you it would be alright, he would fix everything, he’d be better.

“This has to stop,” Despite the tears, you were still talking. That was just who you were, able to speak through the pain, always willing to keep pushing forward. “This stupid obsession with work, Miguel, it has to stop. I’m tired, I’m so tired. And I’m so lonely, Miguel… I’m so lonely, I go to sleep by myself, and the sheets are still cold when I wake up… I don’t see you, you don’t come home, and you push me away when I visit you in HQ…”

“When are you going to go back to being my husband? I don’t want Spiderman. I want my husband, I want my Miguel back, I want the man I love back…” You sobbed, unbothered by how you sounded. You weren’t even sure if he could make out any words, but you kept on going – if you didn’t tell him what was going on your mind now, there was no way you ever could.

“I miss you… Just… Come home Miguel… I can’t do this by myself…” He could hear you wiping your tears, and softly clearing your throat. “Anyway… The doctor said the baby was fine. But I guess if you really cared, you’d come to the appointment.” This last part was muttered, and Miguel could swear he heard both yours and his heart break.The baby. “Come home. Please.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Miguel was crying. This last message… This was the one he couldn’t help but listen to almost every day before passing out from exhaustion. “It’s your fault [Y/N]’s gone. You neglected your wife, you prioritised work over her, you couldn’t protect her.” Was what the voices in his head uttered, day after day, night after night. Every second he was reminded of how he left you behind.

He'd been working late every day, neglecting his meals, neglecting his sleep, neglecting his wife, who cried herself to sleep every night, holding tightly onto her husband’s pillow – which brought her small comfort. He would lash out at you when you tried to get him to take breaks, treating you like you were nothing but one of his Spider-People, refusing to look you in the eye and not even returning your “I love yous”.

One day, you had tried calling him, but to no avail. It was only when Jessica and Peter burst into his office, saying you’d also called them, that Miguel decided to check on you back at your shared apartment. He was hoping to find you whining, curled up on your couch as you pouted at him and told him you missed him. He thought he’d find you throwing a tantrum, too hormonal to understand how important and busy his work was.

But nothing could’ve prepared him to what he saw.

The metallic smell that permeated the room should’ve been a dead giveaway, but Miguel was too focused on returning to HQ that he ignored it, and made his way to your bedroom, where you most likely were.

And that’s when he saw you. Drenched in blood, face red and puffy from the tears that ran down your cheeks. You were laying on your shared bed, body marred with deep gashes from what he assumed was a knife. On one hand was your phone, on the other, Miguel’s first Spiderman mask. “For protection”, he once said. You always held on to it whenever you were scared.

It’s nearly impossible to describe the pain and heartache Miguel felt looking at your lifeless body. A conversation with his neighbours informed him that the entire building had been victim of a burglar, and you were the only mortal victim, unable to fight him off.

It was his fault. He’d been too immersed in his work, pushing you away, leaving you to the loneliness of your apartment, and now here you were, dead. There was no other way to say it, you were dead, and so was your child.

Oh God.

Your child.

Tears clouded his vision; irrationality clouded his judgement. Miguel was most certainly not thinking straight when he tried carrying your body back to HQ. Perhaps something could be done about the baby. Perhaps your child would live, would get to grow up, his eyes and your hair, your smile and his nose, anything that proved you still lived in something, in someone other than just his memory.

But that wasn’t possible.

That night, Miguel cried for the first time. He wept, hands hiding his face as the images of your ripped apart belly and glassy eyes tormented his thoughts.

It was his fault.

You were gone, and it was his fault.

If only he hadn’t worked so hard. If only he’d been home with you, doting on his beautiful pregnant wife like any decent husband would, none of this would’ve happened. The burglar would’ve tried to enter his house, and within seconds he’d be slammed against the wall. Miguel would have held you close that night, whispering soft “It’s okays” and “You’re fine, mi amors” repeatedly until your heartbeat steadied, and you fell into a peaceful sleep.

But that was not possible.

Not anymore.

And it was, irrevocably, his fault.

And then the unthinkable happened.

“Voice profile completed.”

It was you. It was your voice that spoke back to him. It had that sweet musicality to it that he so adored, that he once was blessed to hear every day when he woke up, that chastised him for being too stubborn, that pleaded for one more kiss whenever he had to go to work, that giggled excitedly whenever he whispered soft Spanish praises, limbs tangled with yours.

Miguel looked up. It was your voice, but the creature did not look like you at all. All it shared was a name and your sweet, sweet voice.

Mierda. Fuck this. Al diablo con la sutileza.

Miguel missed you and he was going to have you, one way or the other.

“I want you to look like her.” He all but growled, fingers angrily tapping at the screen so he could find your pictures. “There. Scan her. I want you to look like her. And stop with the formalities. You’re to call me Miguel. ¿Me entiendes?” His voice was feral with the prospect of seeing you again – or at least a construction of you. The thought was overwhelming, and he had to sit back down, his face finding purchase in his hands.

He was past “What am I doing?”

“Miguel?” You asked.

No. Not you.

[Y/N].

Miguel looked up, the same way a sinner does at the altar, praying for redemption. It was gorgeous. You were gorgeous. And looked oh, so real.

Your– [Y/N]’s eyes were looking down at his figure, lips slightly agape, the way you always did when you quite couldn’t figure out what was wrong. [Y/N] pursed her lips and exhaled softly.

“Miguel, are you okay?” [Y/N] said. You said. It was getting hard to tell you two apart, to distinguish what was creature and what was human, what was holographic entity and what was the love of his wife. Especially when you looked the same, when you sounded the same, when you looked at him with the same tenderness, the same love. You were identical. Same eyes, same smile, same hair, same figure. It was as if, before him, stood a perfect copy of you.

“[Y/N]?” Miguel questioned, too delirious to try and figure out who he was talking to.

“Yes? Is everything alright? You seem distressed…” Slowly, your figure – [Y/N]’s figure, right? – approached him. You looked down ([Y/N]...? [Y/N] looked down...?), soft apprehension clear in your voice.

“Oh, my love… Cariño…” Miguel sobbed as he looked at you – so gorgeous, so radiant as the day he met you, with eyes that could give the stars in the sky a run for their money, with lips so plush one couldn’t help but want to kiss them at all times, the love of his life, right before his eyes. “I missed you so much…”

He took you in, all softness and loveliness and so you, it almost scared you. You, the goddess, the saint, ready to rid him of his sins and absolve him, to make him a new man untainted by grief and heartbreak.

He had half a mind to touch you before a tiny voice in the back of his head advised him against it – the delusion hadn’t sunk in entirely yet, and he knew your image would flicker, a simple hologram compared to his solidness, to his existence.

But it didn’t matter.

He had given himself the second chance he so desperately wanted, and he was not going to waste it this time.

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! All headers are mine hehe I made them in PixelLab in like 5 minutes lol :) Please do not repost my work without my permission, thank you!

[kenobster]

For the ask game: 1, 2, & 10!

Your Pal's Star Wars Ask Game

OOOOH these are good ones, thanks anon!

1. Qui-Gon Jinn: love or hate? Discuss.

I very passionately could not care less. He's boring! I don't love or hate, I'm boooored. But that's a terrible answer, so let's go through every single Qui-Gon subject I could possibly have feelings on and describe why I don't.

(Oh boy this list became extremely rude but shit fam, I'm being asked my personal opinion lol. What else am I supposed to do?)

Phantom Menace? Meh. He's the mystical wise type... but Yoda does it better. He's the seemingly disciplined and empathetic role model/teacher, both as Anakin's male!parental figure and as a Padawan's Jedi Master, but... Obi-Wan does that better. He's a rebel, a rule breaker; he doesn't follow the Jedi code perfectly (and, as a result of George Lucas's whiteness, is a little bit racist), but... Anakin does that better worse. Apparently ppl were mad at him for using his final words to ask Obi-Wan to train the Boy, instead of saying "I love you" or something... but I snored through that scene until Obi-Wan's Sith-slaughter woke me up... so unfortunately I didn't hear any of that shit. 🤷‍♀️

Jude Watson? I skip his POV lol. No seriously, he's pretty boring, his internal conflicts are kinda kid-like, not very Jedi-Master-like, not even really very complicated or compelling. And maybe that'd be enough to hate him, but fandom's response to the series neutralizes my opinion in his defense. Re, first two books as an example, Qui-Gon was going about minding his own business when Yoda came along and tried to shove a child onto him -- him, a man who not only didn't want and wasn't ready for a new kid (after the old one became a freak), but also explicitly stated so to Yoda numerous times. Yoda did not take no for an answer. In fact, Yoda pretty much egged Obi-Wan on to pull the same guilt-tripping nonsense, despite Qui-Gon repeatedly saying to both of them stop, no, don't. And neither Yoda nor child listened. Luckily Obi-Wan grew on Qui-Gon so everything worked out in the end, but Qui-Gon didnt do shit wrong lol. It's not his fault Obi-Wan was being sent to the agricorp. It's not his fault Obi-Wan repeatedly disobeyed everyone's instructions and put himself into danger... or that Xanatos was a sadistic freak. And it's certainly not his fault that Yoda (in these books) lacked an understanding of consent and riled up an angsty Padawan into hoping falsely. The book may be boring af, especially Qui-Gon's character arc, but give the man a break, ffs. (And stop letting Tumblr gaslight you.)

Obi-Wan Kenobi show? Yeah Qui-Gon being someone his Padawan cried to abt his nightmares made Obi-Wan look suitably pathetic and sad, and I liked that a lot. But the second Qui-Gon appeared? Ugh. You just had to ruin Depressed!Obi-Wan for me, didn't ya? 🙄 I liked you better when you were playing hard to get.

Fanfiction? Ppl can do what they want and I support them. But I am tired of how Qui-Gon is either the villain or the saint and extremely two-dimensional. That's okay to have 2d characters! It really is! They serve a purpose! But this two-dimensional Jedi ain't for me. And honestly him being angelified is just as much of a dealbreaker to me as him being demonized. I like Messy. I like Trying Hard and Failing. I like Loving and Hurting and Hating and Loving. I like whatever Obi-Wan and Anakin got going on. Qui-Gon is boring and even worse, his presence in fic tends to make Obi-Wan into a two-dimensional victim, which drags Obi-Wan into boringville too. :(

Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray? Hmm, actually, this was some good shit. Would read again. Take notes, kids. This be how you write a Qui-Gon.

Anyway this is how I feel, and I can't help how I feel. So go enjoy your mystical, potentially abusive wildcard in peace. I won't stop you! ^_^

2. Pick a Padme outfit to be your signature look.

This one all the fucking way (and the ROTS version of this hairstyle too):

If I were in Star Wars, I'd exclusively put my hair in a bow. Also, it looks really cute on Padme specifically.

10. If you could pull a George Lucas and sneak into Disney plus and edit any Star Wars scene, what changes would you make?

I answered this question on a whim earlier, but you know what? I absolutely stand by it. Make Palpatine caress Anakin's face as he injects our favorite nineteen-year-old boy with Unwanted Sexual Sithcraft. That is the only correct scene revision.

[iviarellereads]

The Great Hunt, Chapter 42 - Falme

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Helmet icon) In which the horrifying torture is at least as bad as we were led to believe it would be.

PERSPECTIVE: Nynaeve and Elayne give a wide berth to a passing damane-sul'dam pair. Down the street, she sees a bony man with a Seanchan servant but who doesn't look Seanchan himself, and thinks it looked like Padan Fain, but that's impossible.(1)

Elayne is contemptuous of the Falmen, saying they should stand up, resist the Seanchan. Nynaeve asks how, against the intimidating Seanchan patrols, as one passes by. No, no one resists the Seanchan, nobody even seems to think of it.(2) Even the damane show all signs of serving willingly and enthusiastically.

The women have identified a row of houses that are used exclusively to house damane. They sit on a crate, watching the houses. Nynaeve plans how to reach Egwene to free her.

PERSPECTIVE: Egwene, looking out her room's window. Damane rooms have no locks, no possessions. Damane are possessions, they don't deserve privacy. Egg stands back from the window as she channels the tiniest trickle of the Power, trying to figure out the collar. Even the smallest amount makes sweat bead on her forehead: if a damane tries to channel without a sul'dam, she feels sick proportionally to the amount she channels. If she tries to move the bracelet while it's not being worn, she will be similarly afflicted.(3)

Min shows up for a visit, wearing a green dress. The woman in charge of damane quarters, Mulaen, got tired of Min not having a place in society, assigned her as a serving girl, got her a dress (of the colour and cut of her choosing), then burned her other clothes, just as she'd burned Egg's soon after her arrival.(4)

Egg gestures at some rocks, saying Renna has discovered that she has an affinity for earth, and because of the connection, Egg has no way to pretend or lie. Now she's too valuable to make things explode, for better or worse.

Min says she won't have to worry about it for much longer: she's found a ship captain who’s been held here too long,(5) and is willing to help them escape. Egg tells Min to go, because in a few days they're sending a ship back to Seanchan just to bring Egg there, she's that valuable. Min gets angry, saying there has to be a way to get the thing off her neck. Egg tells her there are two proper Aes Sedai also chained here, and at least the one she spoke to, Ryma whose sul’dam make her answer to Pura, is starting to lose her will to resist. She says she knows how Ryma feels, even though she doesn't intend to give up fighting. Min reminds Egg that she can see visions around Egg, and she doesn’t think Egg will be taken anywhere.

Egg tells Min again to escape with this ship captain if he'll take her, and Renna strolls into the room. As soon as she puts on the bracelet, she knows Egg has been channelling. She decides she's been too lenient with her, and perhaps she was wrong to let her keep her old name. Renna had a kitten once named Tuli, so that will be her new name.(6) She dismisses Min, saying her visiting day with Tuli is now ended. Min leaves, looking anguished.

Renna frowns at Egg, saying she must punish her severely. They're going to the Court of the Nine Moons, and she will not be shamed by a disobedient damane. She will only stop when Egg says she enjoys being damane, and when Renna believes every word of it.

=====

(1) Something tells me that word is overused in this story. (2) There's something really sad about how this bit gets more relevant every year. It sometimes takes a violent resistance to overthrow a bad system, but even if everyone hates a current regime (and not everyone will!) it's hard to network when they punish resistance so harshly. These people stuck an innocent descendant of someone who made a promise into a cage to die of exposure and then kept sticking others in there when the first one died. And that was just for an ancestral promise that wasn't passed down. Do you think they're any kinder to resistance fighters? When the people in the village Rand's party passed through wouldn't even speak of what happened in the square? (3) They really made those things to be the cruelest possible version of the device, huh. Also, Egwene is very deliberately enduring what is not supposed to be endurable, to find a means of escape. You wanna talk strong female characters? And, her suffering arc isn't even about sexual rape the way so many other men like RJ would've written it! It's just… about an entirely different and somehow more visceral and horrifying kind of violation. Yeah I'll just need a moment to stare into the middle distance before I continue. (4) No trousers for girls, and no possessions for damane. [Shudder] (5) Could just be a coincidence, right? (6) Is it just me who feels the extra twisting in the guts over being denied her own name?

[pinkadork]

Im fine

Its not like ive been setting myself up what feels like forever to both really and also i guess not at all always be in the cycle im in. The predestined fuck up ig my moms a fuck up

Im a fuck up

I cant stay a job apparently

I’m too scared of every if and but when it comes to trying it to be creative and do things like i used too, nowadays i feel like its tainted because im not even finna be doing it because i like it anymore, but instead just proving i didn’t give up, when i did

I was tired, emotionally drained, put in a position i nor anyone really asked for but guess whose grandparents this belonged to

Im not a fucking mistake or a right person wrong time

I am a nigga thats has been struggling and it was before you sure but everyone in the fuck ass house kept trauma bonding new and old covid didnt fucking help.

How the fuck are we fucking but aint no protection or immediate showers available

How am i toxic for not wanting what felt like more like a: fuck my poor ass boy friends and dementia ridden grandparents( and while its not anyones job to guide me if we in a relationship and you feel some way say some shit some how ) the weirdest ( but unfortunately not worst) living situation ive been in, the deepest most confusing, loving yet infuriating, real yet faux ass relationship ive had with anyone.

Like even now I physically am sick to my stomach about the idea or notion of again my ex, someone who has dumped me like at least twice since July and lowkey high key didnt even count it it was like a secret trial i failed because ofc im not sure of you actually love me mr. I tell the world you beat me but sure we can play minecraft

Fucking the part the gets me the most about this is i know you know how i feel and its just

I feel set up

Like genuinely not just the relationship shit

And im not gonna act like i dont play my role in shit and attribute a lot to the shit that get me and others where we are but jfc im tired

I’m not the brightest bulb but im not a fucking dumbass

And i did more than read the room, i saw the patterns, felt the vibe shifts, and tried so fucking hard.

Its sad whatever im pathetic but i think i knew without saying it (and even saying this it doesnt mean all the people out with then bc some are still here and we cool but fucking) My ex was the realest mf i had in my circle, and which is probably why its hard being like man aint no fucking way we went out like that. Im not for the see you in a few years shit, im not for the go fuck around like i aint give my heart, i was (am) a dumb nigga that went to to college before dropping out after missing all my classes so i could be attached virtually at the hip to them

Its not their fault and for years i didnt feel that at all.

But the second i saw that they felt like they wasted so much on me and this that whatever man my blood got to boiling on some seafood type shi

Its like

You can do evil

They can do evil

And be vindicated and justified in ya own right because in ya head this is just karma and you standing up for ya self and

Then its like i do evil snd immediately fold because i aint mean shi

Nigga got slammed by me 2 or three times

And everytime it was some bs

I let you convince i was being an ass for feeling threatened because " weight and height and muscle” but fucking niggas never care about perspectives

Yeah we are arguing

Yeah im loud, which is infuriating because my usual everyday speaking voice whether it because i subconsciously (now very actively) am aware of how loud i can be, is actually very quiet and i tend to have to repeat myself and even did to my ex because yeah

Fuck im so high man

Its been awhile since i ran out of actual medicine

Like i feel like ive said its been like two weeks for like a month now.

Now i gotta go through new everything, finding insurance, therapy, reassessments, medication changes, so much has happened and yet nothing has, i got fired today, i think, i mean i definitely got the text “Your assignment is finished do not return anymore” but this is the first temp agency really that ive been at , its just like

Like that?

Its kinda how sudden i end up either in or out of someones life, ex, family, friends

Sometimes i feel like ive been so many different me’s and am constantly “coming of age” (metaphorically speaking or in case thats ominous still, like i feel like i do in fact get older but do to circumstance, bad choices, and a lot of fuckening, i very much am learning alot of basic shit i shouldve known, or yes i am just now learning how to not be like donny on the wildthornberrys

I truly was happy and want to die everytime i think about how unhappy i made them

Make them

The wont miss me when i die because im alive and they surely dont is the thing i come back to whether wrong or not it is

Sometimes i cry about things i dont know are true bit definitely feel on my gut or for those in the loop my LN

You can keep my heart in dont want it anymore

I know realistically im bugging and i just feel bad and i need meds and yadayada yada

Im gonna be blunt with ya chief, im blowing my fucking brains out gn

[bludhavents]

things that each greaser struggles with:

these are mostly headcanons i came up with. also, this gets pretty angsty.

content warning: alcoholism, addiction, anxiety.

darry:

- maturity. he thinks everybody looks at him like the “dad” of the group instead of just another friend, and he loathes it. he misses whenever he was able to skip work to catch a movie at the drive-in or take ponyboy and sodapop up to the dingo for lunch.

- accidental intimidation. his build is very large and strong, which is good for his job and for when he’s actually trying to, well, intimidate people, but other than that it just makes him feel guilty for being so unapproachable.

- relationships. specifically, darry is very insecure in his relationship with pony. he especially hates it whenever pony dogs on him for forgetting things or accusing him of not caring.

- emotional intelligence. he knows he comes across as cold. and he hates it. he has lots of emotions and he doesn’t air them out in a healthy way, so he tries his best to cut all the emotions off altogether in hopes that the negativity will stop, but it just makes him feel even more insecure.

- social skills. in high school, it was all much easier for him, but now that he’s working full-time and running the household, he’s fallen majorly behind in the social scene. he never goes out to the drive-in or to the dingo, and at first it was because he was too busy, but now, even if he doesn’t have a shift, he’ll make up some excuse because he’s too nervous to go and have to talk to people again since he feels like he’s gonna mess up.

- identity. darry was just starting to feel comfortable in himself and in his role in the world right before his parents died, and when they did, he stopped trying to figure out what made him happy. it has made him insecure of the emotional stint that is centered around his ego and sense of self.

sodapop:

- smarts. it’s canon that he’s insecure about this.

- growing up. while everybody else moves on to new things and grows up, he feels like he’s stuck in the same place watching everybody else progress while he stays behind. this was especially true after sandy left, because marrying her was going to be this huge exciting step in his life and when she left, he didn’t have that fulfillment anymore.

- reassurance. he feels a constant need for approval, and he will take it wherever he can get it. there’s a sort of pride he gets whenever he sees a girl checking him out, but there’s a deeper feeling telling him that she’s gonna run away once she finds out about how ‘stupid’ he is.

- authority. soda has a really hard time talking to people who are in a position of power. he gets all nervous and his hands get sweaty and his face goes sheet white in panic. his charm and social skill is enough to satisfy a conversation with a person his age, but he feels silly trying to be confident in front of an adult. he feels like they look down on him and will laugh.

- fatherhood. he’s very insecure about having a family in the future. he feels like he never appreciated his dad’s skilled parenting while he could, and since then darry has been a sort of fatherly figure in the house, but it’s hard for soda to see it that way. he grew up for 16 years with darry as a big brother and for him to suddenly be forced into a father role is troubling for soda. because of this complicated dynamic between soda and fatherhood, he feels like he won’t be able to be the best father possible for his children.

- legs. he hates his legs. you will never see soda in a pair of shorts, not even when he’s swimming. he doesn’t like the way they’re shaped and thinks that they make the rest of his body look odd, so he wears loose jeans to hide them. he’s also embarrassed of being embarrassed about them, so nobody knows, not even steve.

dallas:

- emotional intelligence. his lack of emotional intelligence is something he battles with a lot. he understands what people are feeling, but he has a hard time understanding why they feel that way. he says it’s because he’s too tuff to deal with emotions, but deep down he knows it’s because he was thrust into a traumatic childhood so early on that he never had time to build emotional bonds with people that would strengthen his empathy and understanding.

- his past, another canon take. he hates talking about it, even the good stuff, because when he thinks about new york all he can picture is 10 year old dallas watching a man being covered in a white sheet by the paramedics on the side of the road. he thinks about his friends from there and knows they’re all either locked up or dead, and it ruins any enjoyment he gets from reminiscing on the good times.

- health. he definitely has crohn’s or IBS or something else that makes his stomach hurt whenever he eats, and it embarrasses him to no end. he’s always anxious that his stomach is going to start hurting when he’s with the gang and is going to have to find some excuse to leave. he smokes so much while he’s out with them to keep from getting hungry until he gets back to buck’s place.

- his friendships. the shepherd gang is close-knit. then, the curtis’ are brothers, steve has known them forever, and two-bit is outgoing enough to make himself fit in to the group. johnny is the closest person dallas relates to, and it’s the friendship hes the most secure in.

- his smile. he knows smoking ruins his teeth, and he knows they’re crooked all over, and he knows that when he smiles his lips crack and stretch out.

johnny:

- his appearance, canon insecurity. he looks young for his age, and when the gang found him in the lot after he was beaten by Socs, they all started treating him like he was young too. he didn’t think the scar on his face was tuff, it just reminded him of being attacked.

- his voice. this is less about how it sounds and more about him not being able to speak over the shouting at home. he hates yelling, and he won’t stand in to speak up for him cause he’s too afraid of being told to “stop yelling”.

- being average. johnny feels painfully average in everything he does. he’s tried to find a skill that he truly loves and wants to take time to be good at, but he always gets frustrated and quits before he can improve.

- romance. almost every aspect of it terrifies johnny. he doesn’t know what a healthy marriage looks like, what he does know was from Mr and Mrs Curtis, but seeing them die together warped his sense of love. he doesn’t understand why you would want to love somebody so much if you didn’t have to. he doesn’t like the “til death do us part” aspect of marriage, because it makes him feel trapped. he’s not afraid of commitment, he’s afraid that he will end up in a marriage like his parents’ and not be able to leave.

two-bit:

- alcoholism. he’s an alcoholic and he knows it, but he’s been stuck in the vicious cycle of addiction for such a long time that the only way he knows how to cope with the emotional baggage of addiction is to drink more.

- social awareness. as of now, he’s very self-aware and extremely skilled in reading a room, but he didn’t used to be. he used to crack jokes at the wrong time and get scolded for it, and it made him feel horrible. like he wasn’t able to experience all the same sad feelings as everybody else because they reacted differently to the sadness than he did. they wanted to process the sadness while he wanted to ignore it.

- being absent at home. he knows he spends the majority of time at the curtis house, and he also knows that his mother spends the majority of her time at work, which leaves his little sister at home alone. he has a good relationship with her, but he doesn’t like for her to see him drunk, and as his alcoholism progresses, that gets to be more and more often. he knows this, and it’s one of the main reasons he’s so insecure about his addiction, because she’s the one who let him know that it wasn’t a one-way street. his problem affected him and her.

- commitment. two-bit is young, but he feels old enough to know how relationships work. he saw his dad walk out on them, and he was never able to process how you could go from marrying someone to leaving and never looking back. at first, he thought that his dad was just a selfish jerk, but when he met johnny and saw that his parents were also married and simultaneously abusive, he convinced himself that all marriages were bound to end up that way. he believes that if the curtis’ lived longer, they would have eventually gotten bitter and tired of each other, because in his mind, that’s just what couples do.

ponyboy:

- confidence. he has a lot of insecurities, and they’re shared pretty evenly between physical and non physical. he doesn’t like his body or his eyes. he doesn’t like how impulsive and dramatic he is.

- security. not in himself, but in life. he’s permanently on edge, feeling anxious about who’s going to be around the corner and what would happen if he got jumped and how many Socs he’d be able to fight off in case anything happened. his parents’ sudden deaths did not help this. he feels like life is constantly tossing him around, and he never feels completely safe.

- emotional outbursts. this isn’t exclusive to ponyboy, but he struggles with it the most. he hates getting upset with people, and he hates hurting other people’s feelings. when he’s feeling too many things, he starts to speak without a filter and gets mad at the littlest things, and he knows that it makes everybody around him feel bad.

- fitting in. in contrast to johnny’s insecurity, ponyboy wants nothing more than to fit in. he’s tired of being the only greaser in his classes, he’s tired of his isolated taste in movies and theatre, he’s tired of being a track star, and he’s tired of all the pressure put on him since he isn’t average.

steve

- masculinity. his dad always enforces an unrealistic standard of being strong, independent, and logical. steve is inherently all of these things, but the pressure he feels to keep it up weighs him down.

- comparing himself to others. it started in middle school when he noticed all of the people liked sodapop more. from then on he couldn’t help but feel like soda was more attractive and charming, darry was stronger and smarter, two-bit was funnier and cooler, dallas was tougher and unbothered, johnny was more likeable and down-to-earth, and ponyboy was more creative and well spoken.

- addiction. there was a time in steve’s life where he was getting high every day. at first it was fun, but then he had to quit track because he wasn’t as athletic as he used to be. it ruined his health and motivation. he started working on cars more to keep himself busy, and it helped a lot, even got him a job.

- hyperindependence. steve’s biggest character flaw is that he can’t ask for help. whether it’s asking for help in school or asking for soda to hand him a tool in the garage, steve can’t bring himself to do ask. it makes him feel like he’s not good enough to do it on his own.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

���I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[kyberphilosopher]

Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man. 

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off. 

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men. 

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

 * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot. 

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried. 

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one. 

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point. 

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day. 

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man. 

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn. 

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering. 

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard. 

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above. 

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you. 

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible. 

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman. 

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath. 

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do. 

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks. 

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?” 

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something. 

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that. 

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’. 

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch. 

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans. 

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even. 

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut. 

What’s wrong with you today? 

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again. 

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person. 

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark. 

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair. 

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins. 

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close. 

“When?” you question. 

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement. 

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine. 

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself. 

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half. 

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones. 

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response. 

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings. 

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused. 

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike. 

A man, as usual. 

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory. 

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will. 

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time. 

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand. 

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually. 

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment. 

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change. 

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all. 

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot. 

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank. 

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again. 

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all. 

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately. 

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth. 

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something. 

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last. 

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed. 

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away. 

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him. 

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around. 

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly. 

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly. 

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes. 

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time. 

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him. 

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl. 

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally. 

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

��I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it. 

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding. 

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject. 

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food. 

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat. 

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question. 

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond. 

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought. 

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible. 

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump. 

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one. 

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense. 

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend. 

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe. 

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt. 

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded. 

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help. 

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder. 

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes. 

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips. 

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly. 

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it. 

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building. 

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

That night, it rains. 

Thunder echoes, with  ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands. 

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes. 

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning. 

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it. 

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual. 

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think.  Please protect me. Please do this for me. 

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android. 

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are. 

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you. 

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now. 

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good. 

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor. 

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself. 

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes. 

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you. 

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea. 

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators. 

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him. 

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does. 

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying. 

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead. 

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second. 

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

  * ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ  *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

[venomous--fics]

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

[ruby-whistler]

i made a list of the vibes of the hermits i watch, so you might want to check some of them out! this is just mostly jokes, but i thought all of the more “serious” propaganda was missing something, so have what truly makes hermitcraft worth it; the players’ unique styles!

will be back on my dsmp stuff asap but it’s the first day of season 8 and i would really appreciate if you checked them out through the links provided :]

Grian; [ episode one link ]

vibes of a 17 year old mcyter, is actually 27 and married

noo not my red jumpah!

chaotic capitalist

someone is making the server better through order? *starts another war* whoops, hand slipped :D

he built a- he rebuilt his entire megabase in survival, above a giant lake of lava, in the nether, on hard mode, upside down??

“watching as scar dies over and over in my trap is peak comedy and i’m tired of pretending it’s not” but it happens like 5 times i every season

video editing is very main-stream and good for short attention spans!

*sad montage over losing stuff he’ll get back in 15 minutes because he’s rich*

pesky birdd! great elytra flier! amazing builder! will tnt your house! poultrymannn!!

wholesome, chaos incarnate, talented architect

why won’t mumbo respond to my messages it’s been two weeks :[ (clingy)

doors???????????? your house has doors???? no doors for you good sir!

will laugh a lot at a lot of things, esp when he’s with his friends

genuinely just so fun to watch

Mumbo Jumbo; [ episode one link ]

perfect british accent

mustache man (warning: he has no mustache irl)

*fails ten businesses in a row* iskall please help

redstone is his element

“it’s actually quite simple” i like your funny words magic man, now can you repeat how in the hell you made a that fancy vault work-

filmographer?? i think? met up with grian irl

him and grian have a robot son named grumbot. that has nothing to do with the vibes but i had to mention him because he means a lot to me.

tries to stay out of wars and server politics until someone (grian) drags him into them

minigame maker, makes the hermits competitive and that is scary (also very funny) e. g. button, hermit challengesss!

“it’ll be fineee” *que shot of everything on fire behind him*

makes his base a living being and then all his neighbors end up feeding it instead of him

conspiracy theorist. bumbo baggins. the usual.

very entertaining videos that help you learn more about minecraft mechanics!

GoodTimesWithScar; [ episode one link ]

wheelchair creator with literally the best vibes

so wholesome i. he is so cool he makes me so happy :’D

*extremely cool announcer voice* ooooo hello there my fellow miners and crafters, good timeees with scar heree, and welcome backk to the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, and we’re flying over-

commentates everything extremely well

spends tenths of hours on builds within a single video and doesn’t bat an eye

lore for all of his builds! he builds these amazing bases to tell a story!

“i wanna see white flags! white flags, outside your base, by-“ wait no wrong anti-rebellion army leader

all videos have a clear objective

mostly building, but he loves hanging out/helping his friends!

loves disney movies! wants to go to space! :D

kind-hearted, always makes everyone else smile

can be chaotic but usually just tries to have fun and make sure everyone else has fun too

*flies into a tree on half a heart* wait what why did i die D:

scar. scar please eat. you’re going to die for the tenth time this video-

the non-chaotic capitalist, has extremely creative shop designs

a danger to himself, but also the kind of person you can’t be angry at for long

BdoubleO100; [ episode one link ]

the guitar music at the beginning of his videos brings a smile to my face, it just has such an immaculate mood

*camera pans over him as said music plays* ladies and gentlemen welcome to another episode of hoimycraffff

the way he talks is extremely endearing

one of the best builders on the server - probably best builder of interiors in existence

able to make a palette using any number of strange blocks and then make amazing builds using it

built a whole castle as a backdrop, then built an entire giant mountain for said castle

extremely sensitive to short jokes, usually gets pranked by others because his reactions are always so funny

his daughters show up from time to time in his room while he’s recording and it’s so cute

*has no way to see the sun but still knows it’s nighttime* gotta go schleep!

scar, pointing at him “this is why we can’t have nice sunsets”

(scar dies because of mobs every time bdubs isn’t on the server to sleep)

likes to be accomplice because he isn’t the one being made fun of (/lh)

*shoots himself in front of a confused grian because he thinks the guy wants his face again when he’s actually just looking for a netherportal*

is usually the underdog so it feels good when he wins

they’re all actually such great friends so it’s genuinely funny to watch

he himself is amazing at entertainment and just a very cool guy

ImpulseSV; [ episode one link ]

what’s going on everyone, my name is impulse and welcome back to hermitcraft!

always speaks with a smile in his voice

has a good dynamic with basically everyone

great co-worker and always helps out if he can

had his base turned pink during the swap, and instead of changing it back afterwards, he dyed his skin’s hair and clothing pink to match it

very cool and original building style!

makes a lot of farms and sells what he gets in his few shops

makes money to be able to do more stuff and make more farms

blows up most his base ever so often to rebuild parts. you know, like a normal person does in minecraft survival.

the grind is never over

the guy who always gets all of the work done on the school project and proceeds to be chill about it

always has very cool side-projects going on and puts his heart into all of them

pog timelapses!!

Rendog; [ episode one link ]

*short, funny scene from the video at the beginning slowly fades out into great music

dogs howling as the half-dog half-cog logo comes up*

greetiiings cyberdogs and citizens of the interbubs! this is ren diggity dawg coming atcha, in another minecraft episodes varuuummm the hermit. craft. server. (hey!)

we’re kicking things off today my friends, from the- *location name on screen*

that intro gets me hyped every time

he’s a furry who talks in bro language it’s great i swear - very atypical but fun

he transformed an entire biome into a star wars planet for his base

his building skills and dedication are incredible

horny (just a little bit)

the only person who cared about mycelium in the whole rebellion

does a lot of roleplay-themed stuff and mysteries to be solved

“b-dubba-dubs one hundred”

extremely upbeat & sweet guy

adds -age after everything “biddage” “flyage” to make it sound Cooler

amazingly positive always and funny as hell

mcc winner!! wooooooooo :D

always tries to be where stuff is happening and interact with people

very entertaining editing style

Iskall85; [ episode one link ]

drives joke into the mud and then picks them up and does it again which is funny

starts videos with one-off bits

iskallman!!! the superhero literally no one needed and yet there he is

only has one (1) braincell when with mumbo

they both do and they’re hilarious together every time

like when they laughed at squeaky noises for ten minutes straight. guys please you’re adult men

bernie the leaf master

omega (something) of doom!!

encourages gambling (in a videogame)

he has so many jokes he keeps using i can’t possibly fit them all in here

basically a wildcard

i have no idea what he’s doing this season

i have no idea what he’s doing ever actually

tame chaos, confusing to the point when it’s funny again

really great builder as well!

mostly for younger audiences but his videos are a good watch in general

feel free to send asks about hc! i’m already loosely involved in hermitblr but yeah, my dsmp followers aren’t immune :] /lh /j

[kingsuckjin]

Golden- JJK

💛 Pairing: (almost entirely)Jungkook x reader, (basically none)Seokjin x reader

💛 Rating: 18+

💛 Genre: friends to lovers but like fluffy but also like very sad.

💛 Summary: After see your boyfriend Jin cheating on you at a bar and realizing your shared friends have been working together to hide it from you, you storm off into the parking lot to cry. Jungkook sees you out there and tells you the truth about everything, or what he wants you to believe is the truth.

💛 Words: almost 16k

💛 Warnings: CHEATING!!! “only one-bed” cliché but I love it, drinking, oral sex(m&f), protected sex and unprotected sex, dirty talk, overestimation, vaginal fingering, love kink?, too much smut, uhhh Jungkook is a bit of a stalker.

💛 Note: listen, I just wanted an excuse to write a gratuitous amount of Jungkook fluff and smut and I also love hurting. I thought I should throw in, these two characters are not actually in love, there are reasons it moves so fast, but it's not love.

❤ also a very big thank you to @btsaudge​ who beta read this whole thing for me, she’s not only a god tier beta reader but a god tier writer too ❤

“Where are you?” Jin was supposed to be home an hour ago. He had been doing this off and on for the past few months. You’d be lying if you hadn't wondered if things were beginning to fall apart later. You knew Jin would never do anything he wasn’t supposed to, especially not with the other guys there. You knew he was probably just having fun and part of you felt awful for wanting to keep tabs on him, you didn’t want to ruin his time by pestering him the whole time.

You paced as you waited for a reply but none came.

“Is Jin okay?” You sent to Namjoon now and he replied pretty quickly.

“Yeah, I’ve got an eye on him. We’re just over here at Gold’s bar telling old stories.” 

“Thank you.” You replied. You knew Jin could be a handful after having too many drinks but entrusted them with him.

You tried to sit back down and open your laptop up only to just blankly gaze at the screen. You were bored. Writer's block had hit you hard and you just didn’t feel like writing right now. You missed Jin tonight. You thought about the trip you had saved up for with the money from your last book. Sleepless hours were poured into making that book special all because you and Jin had shared a dream of vacationing in Hawaii together. All of your money went to it, every cent besides the shared rent, you wanted to surprise him and you just couldn’t find the right time to do it. He was a lawyer, not the best yet, so he had many sleepless hours too. You both deserved this trip.

You wondered for a moment if you dressed up and showed up if it would make him happy, especially if you finally told him about the trip tonight. You figured if you waited until he got home he would just pass right out and you wouldn’t get the chance. Again, you didn’t want to bother him with his friends, but then again he had spent many nights with them drinking and you were sure there were more to come, one night of you showing up couldn’t hurt.

You closed your laptop and went to your closet to find the black dress he loved so much on you, you only got it out for special occasions, and one of these days you planned on wearing it when he proposed. You knew him proposing was coming, he had been talking about it here and there lately “After we’re married…” or “when I make you my wife…” this was how life was supposed to go and you thought you couldn’t have picked a more relaxed person to share life with and you did your best to match his laid back attitude.

You got an Uber to Gold’s bar, it wasn’t a long ride, just long enough to make you further worry about ruining his time tonight. 

The first person you saw was Taehyung sitting at the bar with a pretty lady, obviously flirting like the ladies man he was. 

You tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned he seemed surprised to see you for a moment.

“Where’s Jin?” You asked over the music that was playing slightly too loud and it just wasn’t your taste in music anyway.

“I saw him over there.” He pointed to a corner of the building, and you saw him alright. You saw past the people and even passed the girl pressed into him, both leaned on the wall. 

“What are you doing here?” Came another voice.

You looked away from the scene and at Yoongi. Your eyes felt wide and your mouth fluttered open and closed. You didn’t know what to say or to think, or what was happening. Were you tired? Were you seeing things? Had your sweet and kind boyfriend just been making out with another woman with all of his and your friends here to witness it? You were confused? Did they all know something you didn’t?

You turned back around, afraid you would see the scene again, but you didn’t. There was no one against the wall. The place was dim, maybe you had just thought it was Jin.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi offered.

All you could do was just nod. 

Your eyes kept scanning the faces of people to find Jin, you were so lost and set on finding him that you were surprised to see the shot in front of your face Yoongi had gotten for you. You took it, you had no idea what it was even as it burned your throat.

“Looking for Jin huh?” Yoongi asked and sat down at one of the stools at the bar before patting the seat next to him.

“Well he’ll find us, I think he’s around here with Namjoon somewhere, might’ve gone to throw up.” 

“Yeah.” You replied but still felt nervous. Another shot was brought to both you and Yoongi.

“Was-was he pretty drunk when you saw him last?” You asked.

“He always gets pretty plastered, you know that.” 

“Sweetie!!!!” It was his voice.

You turned in the stool to see a smiling Jin coming in your direction, arms stretched wide. “What are you doing here?” He seemed happy and pretty drunk and he leaned over, wrapped his arms around you, and placed his cheek on your head. 

You felt relieved he wasn’t upset you were there.

“I’ve missed you all night.” He kissed the top of your head.

“God, you’re loud when you’re drunk,” Yoongi muttered to him.

When he released your smile that had grown from his embrace and hug faltered.

There was red lipstick on his neck.

“Jin what happened?” You asked, your hands had become sweaty as the scene you had witnessed earlier flashed through your mind.

“What do you mean?” He still wore a big smile.

“Jin, you have lipstick-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence. You turned to Yoongi just to make sure you weren’t going crazy and he had turned back away to face the bar.

You could feel your pulse thud hard as your brain further tried to rationalize it but to no avail. He must’ve caught on because he wiped at the place on his neck where your gaze was fixed. Your eyes flickered back to his nervous-looking brown eyes that were always so full of joy and laughter, the ones that always felt like home to you. Everything about this situation felt so wrong like a nightmare, you felt sick. This couldn’t be your Jin, it wasn’t your Jin, it was some strange cold stranger pretending to be him, but the more you looked at him the more you realized you were wrong. You felt tears well in your eyes and knew your strong front was beginning to dissolve and break apart like paper in water. 

That was it.

You took off for the door, you looked back and saw Jin trying to stumble after you, but Taehyung had stopped him.

You were left in tears in the parking lot, you felt your phone go off in your hand but your brain was in too much of an anger and hurt haze to care. You were looking for a place to break down, anywhere, but you sure as hell weren’t planning on going back in there. Your whole relationship with Jin was flashing through your mind and it felt like your heart had been burned, burned with the image of him and someone else the way her lipstick has been burned onto his neck.

You began to sob as you walked around parked cars. You were caring less and less who saw you break down. You felt so alone and exposed especially when a man sitting on the hood of his car began to stare.

“Y/n?” The voice questioned. Through your tear-blurred vision, you could see the screen of his phone light up his shocked-looking face.

Jungkook.

“How’d you get here so fast? I just-“ he stood from his seat on his car hood.

“Seokjin cheated on me.” You sobbed in the ugliest crying voice you had ever heard come from yourself.

Your fists grabbed the material of his jacket and you hurried your face in its collar.

His hands went to the middle of your back and hugged you silently for a moment. It just felt so good to have someone comfort you when everyone else seemed not to care or ignore you altogether. Even if it was awkward Jungkook.

You recalled the time where he once showed up at your University and just wanted to hang out for seemingly no reason. The whole two hours he was with you, he stayed silent. You thought he had wanted to visit you because you were friends but it left you wondering if he was ju9st trying to kill time or something. You also remember Jin not being too happy about it when you told him, maybe Jin wasn't too understanding back then.

“He was kissing someone else and I-I-“ you trailed off into a series of gaspy hiccups.

“I know.” He sighed.

“What?” You took a step back but still didn’t release him.

“Your phone. Check your phone.” He instructed.

You unlocked it to see a lengthy text from him. It was hard to read it and stay focused, you were shivering out of school or the chill in the air from this dress. You skimmed it but you shook worse the more you stood there. Attached were two pictures of Jin and the woman kissing in the same way and position that you had seen them.

You looked up at Jungkook with tears streaming down your cheeks, your lip quivered, your body shivered and he looked down at you with sorrow knitted into his furrowed brows.

“I’m sorry. They had always told me not to say anything, that it wasn’t my business, that I’d make you both unhappy if I-“ 

Your teeth were still chattering as you looked up at him.

He took his coat off silently before draping it around your shoulders. You fed your arms through the armholes that were way too big on you.

“Come on, let’s get you… let’s get you warm.” He went around to the passenger’s side and opened his car door. You didn’t resist, at least you could break down somewhere private.

You held your head in your hands as you sobbed over the sound of the engine and heat warming the car. He sat there quietly, not saying anything at all, but you didn’t blame him for it, he had always been awkward with people, especially you, but at least he seemed to care more than anyone else tonight.

You cried until only your hiccups remained. Your head rested against the headrest as you looked out the windshield at the night sky, it was starless.

“You- you uh wouldn’t want to go home would you.” It was a statement, he knew you wouldn’t. “Is there- somewhere I can take you? You could come with me… if you want.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know if I want to be anywhere, but I can’t go home.” You stated knowing you weren’t making complete sense.

“We don’t have to go to my house just yet, we can do anything you want… but I do understand if you want to be somewhere where you can just be sad.”

“I don’t want to be sad.” You sniffled once more and wiped at your face “I don’t want to be anywhere sad. I wanted to have fun…”

“I know somewhere we can have fun.” 

Before you could answer he was pulling out of the parking lot.

It was quiet for a while as you just looked out the window.

“I know what it’s like you know.”

You turned to look at his face as he drove, lights every so often passing over his face.

“You’ve been cheated on too.” It wasn’t a question so much as a sad statement that came from your mouth. 

“That’s what made me want you to know so badly. It tore my heart out and sometimes I wish …I never would’ve found out, it hurt. I know it hurts.”

“I’m so sorry Jungkook.” You whispered. Sometimes he was weird, but you knew he had always had a good heart. 

“Sometimes things like that just happen, it doesn’t make it hurt less, but it does help to know you’re not alone… that and getting shit-faced.” He joked making you let out an amused puff of breath as you felt yourself smile just a little.

“Are we going somewhere with alcohol?” You asked.

“Of course. It’s on the house tonight.”

“You’re a good one Jungkook.” You replied.

You looked up at the big neon bowling ball and pins at the top of the building as you sat in the parked car.

“Bowling?” You asked and looked down at your dress. He was such a weird person.

“Just trust me.” 

So you did trust him, after all, it was better than being at home alone or worse, at home with Jin.

When you walked into the bowling alley it was dark, but there were laser lights and strobes and glowing lights and music played loudly but not as near as deafening as it did at the bar. It seemed like you were the only two here, besides one older guy playing alone at the very end lane.

You took a seat at a table at the opposite end and simply just waited, but the more you were alone with your thoughts the more what happened played through your mind. 

How long had Jin been cheating on you? Had he knowingly been cheating on you while talking about you being his wife someday?

You felt tears sting your eyes again, it was harder to hold them back this time.

Jungkook came back with an entire pitcher of beer and a plastic cup he sat on the table before he looked at you.

You tried to shield your crying eyes. You felt stupid crying at a bowling alley you weren’t even bowling at.

You heard the sounds of him pouring beer into the cup and you heard the cup scoot across the table.

You put your hand down, picked up the cup, and downed it.

“I know it’s hard not to think about, and I know it hurts. You shouldn’t be so embarrassed about crying.” Somehow he was able to read you “we’re pretty much the only ones here.” 

“I know, it just feels so strange crying in such an open place. I’m glad I’m here though.” 

He looked to be thinking about your words for a moment before ducking down in the seat and disappearing under the table.

“Come here,” he asked from under the table as you poured more beer in the plastic cup.

You followed him down under the table miraculously without spilling your drink.

He gave you the biggest, sweetest toothy smile and you couldn’t help but return it. You felt like a child playing hide and seek. 

He began to sing along to September by Earth Wind and Fire that played throughout the bowling alley, even physically reenacting the words just to make you laugh. Behind him, past the table were the prettiest lights. You felt so comfortable, warm, and safe in his yellow jacket.

“Are you okay?” He asked with slight concern.

“Yeah.” You snapped out of it and took another drink of your drink before offering him some.

“No, I have to drive. I got it for you, it’s all yours.” He declined.

“Thank you, for all of this.” You told him “it has made me feel better, I owe you so much.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged and you couldn’t help but notice just how sturdy his shoulders looked, and his thick tattooed upper arms.

His eyes were just as big and sparkling as when you had met him in high school. You tried to think back on the exact point you met him but you couldn’t remember.

“Jungkook, when did we meet, do you remember?” You asked him curiously.

“Mhm. I remember.” He gave you a nod. “We were all at Seokjin’s and we were setting up monopoly but had to wait because he was waiting on someone else. When you walked in the door I…”

“You just stared at me the whole time, I felt so unwelcome.” You laughed as you remembered.

You looked over at him to see him looking down and playing with one of the chunky rings on his fingers with a shy smile, his shaggy dark waves threatening to obstruct your view of his sheepishness. He was no longer that quiet and shy bowl-cut boy, well, in a sense was, but not to you anymore. He had tattoos all over him and long hair, his ears had a few rings in each. You wondered how someone so sweet could look like that. He was a paradox all on his own and you simply just never understood it, maybe that’s why you had felt like he was a little weird.

“The funny thing was, I had never seen you at school before that, but I saw you everywhere after.”

“I remember the same thing happening.” You replied as your mind went to seeing him in the halls and recalling the little waves he would give you. It made you smile recalling him then and looking at him now.

“You’ve always been so good, Kook.”

His reply was a shy scoffing noise before thanking you.

You noticed the cup you held was empty and looked down at it.

“Want me to get you more up top?” He pointed up and you nodded. He took your cup and told you to stay put as if you might be planning on crawling away. You felt safe here under this table with him, it was like your feelings couldn’t find you as long as you hid under here with him.

He bumped his head on the way back down making you burst out into laughter.

“You think that’s funny you sadist?” He joked as he smiled big and you continued to laugh at him “is that what it takes to make you laugh?” He teased as he handed you your refilled drink. “You know what would be hilarious? Me walking out here and getting hit by a car. You would be in tears with laughter.”

You still laughed but shook your head.

“You know what I think?” He lifted a brow at you “I think you’re drunk.” He accused you.

“No, definitely not. No way.” You denied but both of you knew it was a joke. Everything seemed to lag just a bit and you felt so silly. Your confidence was through the roof and every time you looked at him your heart raced. 

“I think you’re drunk.” You accused him back.

“Me? How? I haven’t drank anything all night.” His warm smile never ended and you swore he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“I think you’re so drunk that you think I’m drunk.” 

“No no.” You continued with your play fight. “If I was drunk could I do this?” You simply just took another drink of beer.

“Yes?” He chuckled. His laugh alone was enough to make your stomach feel like it was jumping into your throat.

You don’t know what got into you, you don’t know why you did it, but you reached forward and placed your hand on his knee.

There was silence for a moment as he looked down at it. He picked it up and he didn’t quite hold it but took it in a weird handshake way and let your conjoined hands be somewhere in the space between you.

He looked at you and smiled.

“I’m cutting you off. No more drinks for you.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking, or he was hinting for you to stop, your drunk brain had no idea. Instead of trying to figure out if he was rejecting you, you turned his hand over in yours and looked at his hand tattoos and rings, running your hand over each one. You had once heard his tattoos were for his family, but you didn’t know. You let go of his hand and held his arm as you examined those too, some had words you’re drunk brain couldn’t comprehend the meaning of.

“What’s after this?” He asked as he let you look over his skin.

You thought about it.

“I don’t want to go home.” You knew that much. “And I have no friends except…” actually you didn’t have friends anymore.

“My house it is then.” 

“I don’t have to if- I wouldn’t want to…”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. I just want to know you’re safe and not in pain… unless you’d feel too uncomfortable.”

“I trust you.” You locked eyes with him. It was the truth, Jungkook had never hurt anyone ever that you can recall. He hadn’t even been mad at any of the others, even when he should’ve been sometimes. If you were bothering him he never would’ve said it, and knowing that made you feel worse, it made you feel like you were.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house, but I have to warn you, it isn’t the best, I’m just a currently jobless IT guy. Kinda lost my job last week.”

“I’m so sorry Kook. I don’t mind, at least it’s not with Jin.” You finished off what was in your cup, he hadn’t been too serious about cutting you off the drinks.

“I’ll be back.” He let you know before crawling out from under the table.

You went to get out from under the table and the moment you stood all the drinks hit you, you held onto the table for stability as you sat back down at your seat. The pitcher of beer was gone so you had either finished it or he had taken it. Your brain was no longer thinking about Jin thankfully, but unfortunately, it was stuck on Jungkook and the way he looked at you and how his hand had felt in yours. Your breath felt shaky about going home with him, not because you were unsure, but because to you that had to mean something. You tried to separate yourself from your drunk mind and realized you didn’t want to push his boundaries when he was being so kind. You were drunk and he wasn’t and you knew he had morals that you just didn’t right now. You shouldn’t hit on him again, but then again he let you hold his hand, didn’t he? Did he? Would you even call that hand-holding? He hadn’t pulled away but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying to be nice and that didn’t mean he was uncomfortable. You felt bad about doing it, but the drunk and hurt part of you wanted something, some kind of closeness with anyone so the hurt could be replaced just for now. It was all wrong of you.

Your brain spun as you looked off into nothing at all of the dancing colorful lights of the bowling alley. Maybe Jungkook wanted to take advantage of you, maybe he saw this as an opportunity, and as wrong as that sounded you would’ve been okay with that. Your mind stuck to that idea like a fly stuck in honey.

“Ready?” He asked as he held out his hand for you to help you out of the seat.

You stumbled a bit as you took your first few steps but he grabbed you around the waist.

“Careful.” He said so gently and so patiently but it did nothing to ease your turbulent thoughts and feelings. As he held your body like this, it made you want to hold him back, but you fought the urge. He was just helping you get to the car so you didn’t fall flat on your ass.

He buckled you in murmuring a quiet apology for seemingly no reason.

His car smelled of him. It was funny how you never noticed before he had his own scent, it was a bit like cinnamon or some kind of spice and fresh laundry. It hung all around you, on his coat, the fabric of his car, and even on your hands from touching his. 

You looked at him as he drove, the whole time, and if he noticed he hadn’t said a word about it. You felt fully wrapped in him and yet you ached for more, more than just this casual friendliness.

“Do you promise to tell me if I bother you… in any way at all.” Your mouth blurted out.

“I promise.” You watched him smile at your odd request. “You never have bothered me yet.”

The reassurance was what you needed for your mind to feel content for now.

The silence was comforting after all the music and crying and drinking and all the things you had seen tonight. You almost fell asleep, almost.

The keys jingling and a car door closing woke you up. You looked around to see apartment buildings just as Jungkook opened your side car door. You unbuckled yourself.

“Do you need me to carry-“ 

You got to your feet on your own but grabbed for his arm.

“Wait.” He announced before getting to his knees in the parking lot.

He took your leg in his hand and took off one of your heels before taking the other off. He then put an arm under your leg and one on your back before you were horizontal in his arms.

“There are steps up here. I didn’t want you falling in those shoes.” He commented as he carried you and your shoes. You wrapped your arms around his neck so he might have an easier time.

“Would you laugh if I fell down the stairs?” 

“Only for a second.” He teased

“You sadist.” You snorted.

The way his body and muscles felt against you as he packed you up the stairs to his apartment door made you more lightheaded than all the alcohol you had tonight.

He put you down to unlock his door but his hands went back into you to help you walk through it.

He flipped on the lights to reveal his apartment.

His living room area consisted of a mattress on the floor with dark blue sheets and a blanket, it faced a big TV on a stand with game systems and even a computer tower.

The headboard of his bed was the bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the living area.

To the far side were two doors, you assumed one was a bathroom and another door that looked like it slid open could be a closet.

“Quaint, right?” He asked.

“It’s very you.” You said as you breathed the scent of him hanging all around you.

“I was thinking you could have the bed and I could sleep on the floor.” He commented.

“Haven’t you been sleeping on the floor anyway?” You joked. “It’s a big bed, but it also could be a couch. So I could have the couch and you could have the bed. I don’t see any other way around this.”

“You’re okay with us both sharing…?” He asked as if you hadn’t already been thinking about it before you found out the only place to sit or lay in here was his bed.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“Uh uh.” He shook his head and took off across the room. You wobbled on over to his bed and had a seat. You watched as he slid the closet door open.

He threw a pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt behind him onto the bed before pulling out more clothes he kept in his arms.

“The bathroom is-“ 

You cut him off by pointing to the only other room in the apartment. You picked up the clothes and he asked if you needed help getting in there but you shook your head.

You had to hold onto the sink as you dressed in the foreign fabric of his clothing, but even though it felt odd, you still felt comfortable. You did your best to drunkenly wash your face before coming back out. The room was dim, and the Netflix home page was the only light. He was in the tiny open kitchen half of the room in grey sweatpants and a black shirt setting a glass of water onto the island.

“Drink.” He pointed and you did as he asked but could only stomach half the glass. You were sure to thank him for his kind gift of water before you went over to his bed on the floor and got in.

“Here.” He placed a remote on your torso before crawling into the bed himself.

But you didn’t want to watch anything at all. Being next to him was enough entertainment for you.

You looked over at him, hands comfortably resting behind his head, waiting for you to pick something. 

You passed the remote back to him by placing it on his stomach and found his open side too inviting for you not to want with all of your heart.

You rolled onto your side and scooted closer and closer until you put your head on the place between his armpit and shoulder. He didn’t stop you from laying on his chest. He turned the tv off making the room go dark before he let his arm fall around you and cradle you.

You laid in silence a moment.

“Tomorrow is going to be better.” He whispered but you were already drifting from the closeness and peace you felt for now. You took a deep breath in and held his scent in your nose for a moment so it would permanently brand into your brain.

“You smell so good.” You muttered already half asleep.

You heard yet another amused scoff come from him and felt the little laugh on his chest under your head.

“Go to bed.” He joked.

And you did, as you listened to his rhythmic heartbeat, beat after steady beat, unfailing and never letting you down. There was always another right after the last.

The quiet click of a door woke you. You could see sunlight flooding through your closed eyelids, you could feel the warmth in the bed and on your skin. As you laid there you could hear other little sounds, straining to be quiet but failing.

Your eyes opened and you were disoriented for a moment.

You sat up but realized the noises were coming from behind.

“Jungkook?” You sleepily let out as you winced at the bright light coming through the sheer curtains from behind the tv.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” You heard his apologetic voice. 

“No, it was just time to get up.” You grunted as you gave a stretch hard enough your bones cracked.

“Want some cereal?” 

You both casually sat in the bed eating. He had given you a massive bowl of cereal you felt obligated to finish. He was fully dressed while you sat there still in his pajamas.

“You want to stay again today?” He asked bluntly as his eyes focused on whatever anime he had turned on.

“I couldn’t Jungkook, you’ve been so kind and I just-“

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged and crunched up another bite.

“Why?” You decided to ask but he shrugged again.

“Having someone here is kind of fun. It’s like a sleepover I guess.” 

He was so childish in the oddest ways, it was kind of charming. You began to remember all of your thoughts from last night and thanked yourself for not trying too hard to make him uncomfortable. He pushed back his hair with his hands before taking another bite of the colorful cereal. He had the heart and empathy of an angel, even with the tattoos on his hands that he ate his kids’ cereal with.

“Then what are we doing today Kook?” You asked.

“You need clothes. Also, do you know how to skateboard?”

You felt those two things in the same breath were a bit odd but that was just him.

Before long, you found yourself in a cheap store grabbing whatever would fit you and you could wear in public and not feel too bad about it.

“Why’d you ask if I could skateboard?” You asked as he pulled out of the store parking lot. You had already gotten dressed in the bathroom and were ready for whatever weird thing he wanted to do.

“Do you?” 

“No.” You shook your head.

“Wanna learn?”

“Sure.” 

“I’m going to teach you how Yoongi taught me when I was sixteen.”

“How did he teach you?” 

“He taught me not to be scared.” Was his only reply, and you accepted it. You liked the element of surprise he added to everyday life, you liked how he didn’t take a lot too seriously. You admired that. Your life with Jin had always been work amongst jokes now and then but it hadn’t felt fun, even when you were both young. You felt like you could probably learn a lot from Jungkook.

“Let’s get some food first. It’s almost dinner time, are you hungry? You kept a while and all you’ve eaten today was cereal.” 

You paid for lunch. You got some fries you picked at between watching the wind blow through his hair as you ate outside at a little burger place. He stuffed his mouth full with every bite. A mess of tomatoes and condiments would drop from the burger and onto the wrapper in his lap.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” You asked him.

“Hmmm.” He thought with a mouthful. “Maybe live in a better house.” 

“That’s it?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity of what he desired.

“Yeah.” He smiled and wiped his mouth. “You?” 

“I wanted to live or at least visit somewhere warm. I was supposed to go on a trip to Hawaii with Jin, it was a surprise… I wanted to live there one day but he has to work here.” you felt yourself falling back into the heartbreak.

“You don’t need him to go to Hawaii. You could move there now if you wanted and no one could hold you back.” 

“Yeah.” You agreed but it sounded sad.

“You afraid of being alone?” He asked a question that hit you too hard. 

All of your adult life and even your teenage years all you knew was Seokjin, you had always had someone there, your parents or Jin, you had never really had to be alone or think of a future with only yourself until now.

“No.” You lied. There was a strange quiet.

“I’m sorry if that-“

“You should come with me to Hawaii.” You blurted out fully interrupting him.

“Do you want that?” He questioned as if you hadn’t thought it through, and you hadn’t but that didn’t mean you didn’t mean it.

“Yes. Do you?” You were so afraid of him saying no and you didn’t quite know why.

“It’s not like I don’t have anything I can just put on hold for… however long. It’ll be fun. I’d like that.” 

The conversation felt like something more to you somehow, like some secret agreement was just made.

“We should do this before it gets dark.” He commented “ready?” 

Your fries were cold and you had been just waiting on him to finish eating.

You took at the top of the street on a hill with him after walking a block from where he had parked and dragged a skateboard out of the backseat.

“This is where Yoongi taught me to skateboard, he pushed me down here.” He pointed to the steep road that luckily wasn’t too busy.

“And you’re going to push me down it? I’d kill you.” You crossed your arms disapprovingly.

“No, see, you’re going to push yourself down it. If you sit on the skateboard it will be easier and you probably won’t fall, it will be fun.”

“Your idea of fun gets crazier and crazier.” You pointed out.

“Sit, I’ll stay behind you.” 

“No, because it’s going to pick up speed faster than you can run as I’m going down the hill.” Your brain had already torn the scenario apart and your chances of getting hurt were probably around one hundred percent. Even though you knew that you sat down on the skateboard.

“Okay, now just look down, get a feel for it, take it in.” He instructed as you looked down at the steeply sloping road below.

“Jungkook this is dangerous.” You commented.

He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you in kind of a hug.

“You’re okay, nothing bad is going to happen to you, alright? I’m right here.” He whispered and you nodded. “Close your eyes, keep them closed.” 

You did as he asked you could feel him wheeling you closer and closer. Put your feet down to stop you from going just yet. I’m going to let go, you’re going to count to ten and without opening your eyes, you’re going to push yourself. Stay as still as you can even if you’re scared. Only open them when I have you.”

Your breath shook, but you gave him confirmation.

“Count.” He said as he released you.

You slowly counted, the nerves in your stomach growing the higher each number got. You gripped the bottom of the board with both hands and when you got to ten you used your legs to push off before tucking them back onto the board.

You let out a scream as you felt the speed at which you were falling, you could feel tears in your squeezed closed eyes.

He caught you by the arm. It was all over before it had even started.

You were breathing heavily and clung to his jacket.

“You’re safe, you’re okay.” He assured you and helped you to your feet.

You were at the bottom of the hill and your heart was racing with your eyes still watering. 

“Are you crying?” He grinned.

“JUNGKOOK I COULD’VE DIED!” You slapped at his arm but he dodged it only making him laugh more at your annoyance.

“Look! You did that by yourself!” He commented with proudness.

“I could’ve died.” You repeated.

“But you didn’t.” He still wore a grin.

The sunset filtering through his dark hair, his laughter, and him trying to escape you chasing him by walking backward felt oddly beautiful. His skin looked a shade of golden like this.

You pulled on his jacket to pull him in, you thought about kissing him, everything in you told you to preserve this moment. Would he let you? Would he let you at least hold his hand again?  but instead, you wrapped your arms around him.

“Today is better, thank you.” You squeezed him. Your arms stayed around him for as long as his stay on your back. It was a while that you both just stood there hugging in the street like dumbasses.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked as he released you “you’ve put up with me all day so it’s your turn to pick.”

“Honestly,” you both began the trek back to his car. “I just want another drink.”

“Understandable. Let’s stay home and drink tonight, it will be easier.” He suggested.

“I would rather.” You agreed you interlocked your arm in his as you walked, and again he let you. You wondered for a moment why he was letting you be this close to him and touch him so much, but he never initiated it. You decided thinking about any of that was not for the best and you let it go.

You stopped at a liquor store and got more vodka and snacks than either of you would ever need for one night.

Before you started drinking you both took a turn having a shower and he started some laundry. Everything was so casual with the both of you, eating chips on the bed while he beat your ass at a fighting game three times in a row, he did let you win three times after that to make up for it. The loser had to take a shot and now you each had three.

“Last one. You’re going to win and I’m going to switch games.” You announced as you picked your character. 

“You don’t know if I’m going to win.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You knew it was either he won or he let you win, and he let you win yet again.

“Don’t be such a hero.” You laughed as he had to gulp down the fourth drink of vodka. His nose wrinkled at the taste.

“Let’s just play something both of us have an equal shot at winning. Since you’re good at video games it can’t be that.” You decided. You thought about what you could do that didn’t require much skill if any. You scooted closer to him on the mattress on the floor so you could face him, knee to knee.

“Got it. Hold up five fingers.” You told him and did the same.

“I know this game.” He said holding up five tattooed fingers.

“Good, loser takes three shots.” You made up the rules and he nodded in agreement. You scooted in closer and he faced you. You were going into dangerous territory with this and you knew it, but let it go under the guise of: this is just for fun.

“Put a finger down if you’ve ever gotten black out drunk.” You said and he put a finger down and you didn’t.

“Put a finger down if you’ve thrown up in public.” He said and neither of you put a finger down.

“Put a finger down if you’ve ever… eaten something off of someone’s body.” You watched as his finger stayed up but you put yours down.

“Are you trying to lose?” He laughed

“We’re even.” You pointed out.

“Not for long. Put a finger down if you’ve ever had public sex.”

You put a finger down.

“Put a finger down if… you’ve ever… let someone win in a game.” You laughed as you brought up earlier and he put a finger down.

“Put a finger down if… you’re y/n.” He grinned.

“You know what? Just give me the damn three shots, I forfeit.” You sighed knowing that it was time to play dirty in every sense of the word.

“I’ll take three with you.” He decided. Of course he would, he was the kindest man ever. You could’ve already guessed he would say that before he even did.

You took them together and only let yourself grimace after the last one.

“Again, I’ll start this time.” He announced, screwing the cap on the vodka. You could hear him slur his speech just a little.

You both held up five fingers once again.

“Put down a finger if you’ve ever had a pregnancy scare.”

Neither of you put down a finger, but the questions were beginning to get a bit more heavy. He seemed to have the same idea as you.

“You’ve ever had someone cum inside of you or came inside of someone without a condom.” You were stepping up your questions now but neither of you were putting fingers down.

“If anyone has ever gone down on you for more than thirty minutes.” He asked but again you both still had five fingers. “Wow, that really sucks for us.” He muttered.

“If you’ve ever had a thing for someone in your friends circle.” You announced. Slowly but surely you both put down a finger. Your drunk beau was ignoring the little voice in your head screaming at you to stop. Jungkook was your friend, a friend who might even have the same feelings as you did right now.

“If you’ve ever thought about kissing someone in your friend circle.” He asked and put a finger down and so did you. You felt like you were both edging towards the inevitable and dangerous with questions like this, but you couldn’t shut your mouth.

“If you’ve ever thought about fucking them.” Your own question made you swallow as you both put a third finger.

“If you’ve ever thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship with them.” He asked quietly. Your fourth fingers went down together.

There was only one left and it was your turn. You both knew now you were talking about each other, but it was hard to believe. You were scared it wasn’t you, maybe he was into guys too. You just had to ask, you had to.

Your eyes locked. You felt nervous. He looked nervous as he bit at his lip between those two front teeth you were becoming so fond of seeing when he smiled.

“Put a finger down if…” it was hard to speak, you had to swallow down the knot of nerves in your throat and take a deep breath before continuing “if the person we’re talking about is each other.”

His pointer finger curled down and so did yours.

 “For how long?” You asked.

“From the start.” He admitted. “But you’ve never felt that way.”

“I do now.” You leaned in. At least now you were sure how he felt, or at least you thought.

He stopped you by placing a hand on your arm.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” His voice was so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

You sat back and waited for him to explain.

“I don’t want it to be… I don’t want to be a rebound. I think friendship comes before feelings anyway and that’s why I did this. I don’t want to kiss you while we’re drunk, I don’t want you to regret anything.” 

“Oh.” You let out. 

“I can’t do this when you’re drunk and sad and trying to fill a void, that wouldn’t be okay of me to do. I want… I want more than that and you just got out of a relationship… or maybe you didn’t yet… but I can wait until it’s all over, I feel like that’s the right thing to do here.”

You sat there a moment as his drunk words registered in your brain. For just a second you wished you weren’t drunk so you could try to tell him how you were feeling but decided to give it your best shot anyway.

“I like you. I’m sorry I was so blinded by Jin all these years that I couldn’t see you liked me because if I hadn’t been maybe we both could’ve been better off. Maybe I could’ve had more days like this with you, hundreds more where we just do crazy things, where we could just sleep on a mattress on the floor and still feel happy and content with life. Jungkook if I would’ve known you felt this way and I would’ve known how life could be, at any point, then I’d probably be the one cheating. I want you. I want you and it’s not just because I’m afraid to be alone, you make me do things I never would’ve done. And your heart, your heart is made of pure gold. I want us both to just forget everything before now, everything we’ve been through, not because it hurts but because it just feels like it should’ve been us all along. And if you only knew how many times I’ve had to stop myself from kissing or touching you today when I was perfectly sober and perfectly happy…”

“I want that. I’ve wanted that.” He seemed like he was talking to himself more than you.

He was now the one leaning forward and your face got stuck in his pull.

Your lips met very gently and your eyes drifted closed so you could lose yourself in it.

His tongue wasn’t at all rough or demanding with yours, but it was needy.

You climbed into his lap and not a minute passed between that time and the time he was helping you fall backward, settling himself between your legs so effortlessly.

Your hands ran under his shirt slowly, creeping up until his shirt bunched prompting him to sit up and take it off.

You could feel him hard between your legs but there was so much fabric separating the both of you that it became frustrating to buck into him.

“I can’t fuck you.” He decided to your dismay. “But I just want to feel you.” 

You let him slide your shirt off so your bare chests were pressed together as mouths continued to move together in new ways every second, patternless unlike his heartbeat but exciting like the things he made you do.

He yanked the blankets up around you both and let himself grind into you slowly as you whimpered for more.

Your mouth went to his neck, sucking at his skin passionately and listening to the beautiful moans he made for you. You could’ve done this to him all night, just taste his skin and let his spit intermix with yours, but he decided to bite off even more.

His head sunk and he took a nipple in his mouth. The feeling went right to your throbbing and needy clit.

“Oh god fuck me.” You breathed “please just let me closer. I need more.” 

He pinched at your nipple softly between his teeth and you gripped his shoulder.

“I’m so wet, I don’t think one ever wanted anything mo-“

His mouth left your breast and yanked his pajama pants off of you and took off the ones he was wearing as you finished kicking off yours.

You were both down to your underwear now though you wished it was less.

While you weren’t going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to, it sure seemed like he wanted to do this.

You felt him reach into his underwear and adjust himself before rutting into you again with a groan.

Your hands freely moved across his skin, feeling goosebumps that had risen under your touch.

You knew that you were so wet at this point that it had to leak through the fabric of both yours and his underwear, you knew he felt it.

“Is there anything I’m allowed to do? Kook, you’re killing me.” You whined.

“I don’t have condoms.” He commented.

“I get a birth control shot but I understand if you don’t want to…” you trailed off.

“I don’t know what I want to do… I- but I think I have an idea. Let’s take the last of it off.” 

He seemed nervous as you both kicked off your remaining two pieces, and then you were bare for each other.

“You’re not a virgin right?” You asked from the way he was acting so nervously. 

“Oh. No, no. I- Uh I just feel like it’s wrong still... like I’m not supposed to. This can’t be happening.” He reached down between the both of you again.

“Nothing has to happen-“ 

“I’m so hard.” It was a whisper of a breathless whine that interrupted you. His knuckles brushed your folds and you realized he had his cock in his hand, pumping it slowly.

“Why the fuck are you so unbelievably hot?” Tumbled from your mind and fell from your mouth.

“You need to be seeing things from my view right now.” He looked over what parts of your body he could “dear god.” 

He finally released his cock and let it fall between your folds. He gave a thrust and felt the weight of his cock slide against your clit because of the wetness.

You didn’t expect him to shove his fingers into you, but that alone was enough to nearly make you cum from all the teasing he had put you through.

He pulled them out and held his sticky thoroughly coated fingers in the air.

“Oh my god.” He whispered quickly and shakily. 

You had never, ever been this wet in your life. You could hear the sound as he spread your juices and his pre-cum over his cock and brought it back to place it between your folds.

He came back down and every time he thrust how his slick cock rubbed your clit over and over.

Moans and whines escaped both of you but it just wasn’t enough for you to imagine him plowing into you, you needed to feel it.

“Oh god, I bet you would feel so fucking good inside of me. I’d cum for you so fast.”

You had earned a soft groan from him, he was losing it.

“I want to fuck you so badly. I want to cum all inside of you. Neither of us had ever done that before, can I?”

You felt him shift the head of his dick to your entrance.

“I will beg you, please do it.” you closed your eyes in a prayer that he actually would.

“Fuck.” he let out as he slipped into you, you took every last inch of him. 

He was already sweating and grunting before he had started thrusting, but after he started jackhammering into you, there was a new look and feel about him. His damp strands hung loosely, his nose crinkled as he hit his lip with the force he was putting into each thrust.

“I’m going to cum.” you announced not even a minute in.

He grabbed one of your legs, threw it over his shoulder, and was pushing hard. Your body bounced at the force, your head bumped the kitchen Island that was his headboard until he dragged your body animalistically lower on the bed.

“I wanna- I wanna hear you.” he panted. 

“Don’t stop- that- keep doing that,” you instructed. He was short on breath and a sweaty mess.

“Go on, I've got you. I've got you,” he assured you, keeping the pace of his hips the same.

Your orgasm crashed into you all at once like a semi-truck through a small building.

You felt like you had just gone down that hill again. Your heart was racing and you knew he was too.

You pulled him into your lips messily as your brain melted into a blissful spice and laundry scented puddle.

He mounded loudly against your lips as his body moved against yours.

“Coming.” He whispered his next few breaths were sharp, pumping into you a few more solid times, you could feel his cum spill into you as his sweaty forehead pressed into yours.

When his hips stilled, there was only the sound of rough breaths, he kept his eyes closed for a moment and swallowed hard.

“How-how was that?” He propped himself above you on shaky arms. In the dark you could see the beads of sweat that pulled on his face and neck, his chest rose and fell and still made no move to pull out of you.

“I-“ you tried to find even a single word for the experience you had just had. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

He let out a strong huff of a laugh and grinned down at you with the biggest and sweetest eyes that looked to search your face.

“That was something.” He agreed but looked like he had something on his mind. 

He gave you a soft kiss on your lips before he finally pulled out and laid beside you, only to have the embarrassing feeling of his cum leaking from you and down your butt crack.

You jumped up, only making matters worse, cupping your crotch as you took off to the bathroom faster than he could ask any sort of questions.

As you cleaned yourself up you couldn’t believe everything that had happened between you two. you didn’t for a second regret it, the opposite.

As you walked out of the bathroom he was standing on the floor by the bed with only his pajama pants on, holding a bag of chips. He turned to you and laughed.

“We just had sex with the Mortal Kombat music.”

You stood there naked and you couldn’t help but laugh back.

That tender time you had just had together had just been spent jarring fight music and you didn’t even realize. That’s what he did to you. When you were with him the entire world and all of your problems fell away.

You put back on your pajamas, still laughing to yourself as you heard the music still play.

“Now every time I hear it I’ll think of you.” 

“Please don’t associate us having sex with that” you laid back down and he got into the bed with you. 

He fed you a chip and you thought that was pretty cute so you took him by the shirt and pulled him into your lips.

He pulled away for a moment.

“Round two, fight!” 

You laughed so hard at the stupid Mortal Kombat joke that you snorted and he found that pretty amusing. A tickle fight broke out and of course, he got you pinned and of course, you couldn’t help but kiss him again.

A knock at the door interrupted you both making him stiffen and both of your heads turn in the direction of the door.

“What do I do?” You mouthed to him he climbed off of you and sat up.

“Who is it?” He called out.

“Jimin.” The answer came from the other side of the door.

You grimaced at each other and decided to jump up and go hide in his closet. You tucked yourself in between his few shirts and hanging pants and closed the door.

You could hear Jungkook walk to the door and open it. There were now two sets of footprints inside the apartment.

“You weren’t answering any texts and I got worried about you.” You heard Jimin's voice clearly.

“Been busy.” You think Jungkook muttered.

“Looks like it,” Jimin replied with obvious sarcasm. You wondered if it was all the snacks and alcohol on the floor, the video games left on, or the marks that decorated Jungkook’s neck that made him say that.

“You hear about what happened with Jin and y/n the other night at the bar?” Jimin asked and waited a moment “I guess he cheated on her, you were right this whole time about it.”

“It sucks she had to go through all of that. How’s she holding up?” Jungkook was playing dumb.

“I don't know, I haven't talked to her. It's Jin’s business, not mine.” 

That hurt you. You had always thought of you and Jimin as pretty close friends.

“Plus I heard she disappeared anyway. Jin is speculating she took off to Hawaii on her own. Namjoon told me he told the police everything this morning wanting to file a missing person report. He thought it was suspicious she just left all of her stuff, but the police said she hadn’t been gone long enough and they had an argument and probably just wanted to be away from him.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Jungkook seemed genuinely concerned even though you were right in his closet.

“I don’t know. Yoongi was a little worried she got kidnapped at the bar after she stormed out. I don’t think anyone is looking for her though, I think she just wanted to get away. Also, you kind of disappeared that night at the bar too, didn’t you?” 

Oh shit. Was Jimin putting it all together? 

“I took someone to my place and she stayed a few nights. I don’t think I was there when all of this went down.” Jungkook’s alibi seemed solid, you hadn’t even seen him in the bar when you had gotten there.

“Well, I just wanted to stop by and check in on you.” 

“Thank you.” Jungkook’s reply sounded sincere.

“You should probably clean up a little, maybe get a real bed, it just looks kind of… sad.”

Jimin didn’t sound concerned, he sounded almost mean about it to you.

“Noted. Will do. Thanks for stopping by man.” Jungkook continued to be kind to him until he left.

You stepped out of the closet dumbfounded as Jungkook said nothing about the way Jimin had treated him or nearly accused him. He just got back into bed seemingly unphased. You followed after and just laid there for a moment thinking about times when they had all been mean to him at least once.

“Please don’t let them do that to you.” You asked.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That’s just what it’s like being the youngest. I’m used to them looking down on me.” 

“it doesn’t have to be that way.” 

“Why not?” He seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying because he rolled onto his side to face you.

You rolled onto yours to face him in the dark. Hair was in his face but he was looking at you with those big brown eyes.

“It can be you and me against the world if you wanted. If one of our skateboards went flying down a hill, we would be there to catch the other before they got hurt. Do you want to do that with me?” You couldn’t believe you had the guts to ask that but what you couldn’t believe even more was his reply.

“I want to do that with you. Let’s do that. I haven’t let you fall and get hurt yet, have I?” He grinned.

Little did he know that you already had fallen.

You brought your hand up to his face before scooting closer and placing your forehead against his

“Promise me you won’t let me fall.” You whispered.

“I promise.” His answer was instantaneous.

“Then I won’t let you either. Well just protect each other.” 

“Deal.” He replied before connecting your lips. 

As you kissed him you wondered if he felt the same about you as you did him already. He had to know that you were so scared, so terrified of being hurt again and that’s why you wanted to make this deal.

His hand slid down your body and back up causing your shirt to bunch. His warm hand made its way back down your skin again and just as it snaked into the band of his pajama pants you were wearing, a loud hum startled you both.

You were confused for a moment as the room grew slightly brighter.

Your phone was ringing on the wood floor.

You sat up, squinting your eyes as you picked up the phone and looked at the screen that was far too bright.

“Jin.” Your voice wasn’t at all cheerful.

“Are you going to answ-“ Jungkook’s sentence was cut off by the sound of you turning off your phone and putting it back down. 

“I can’t, I just… I don’t want to talk to him right now, I don’t want to feel that right now again… if ever. I saw what I saw and there’s no way he can convince me that I didn't see it or that you didn't too, we have photos. I'm not sure that I really ever want to talk to him again. I feel so… differently about him now and I don’t think there's any repairing that.”

He sat up, picked up his phone from his side, and turned it off too before you both laid back down.

“Good night kook.” You announced with Jin’s call not leaving you feeling right but not wanting to think about it right now.

“Night.” He replied as he pulled you against his body.

Although you tried to refuse your brain the opportunity of letting the thought of Jin right now entirely wreck your time with Jungkook, it was hard. You thought of all the restless nights when you stayed up working as an excuse to wait for Jin to get home from going out or working late. There were rarely nights like this where you could curl up against him, looking back on it there were no nights that you felt as cared about as you did now. A thought stuck to you, one you decided to think more on the next day. Did this all happen for a reason? For both of you? Would all of the suffering you’ve both been through in your relationships be worth it now?.

You felt something soft and warm on your head. A kiss.

“Morning.” you felt a delicate breath of his whisper on your face.

“Morning.” You muttered. Your eyes stayed closed as you reached out for him and pulled him into you. He let out a quiet laugh as he let you drag him onto you as if he were your teddy bear.

“I’ve been awake a while, I went to the store in my pajamas and I thought you’d be awake by the time I got back.”

“But I wasn’t so you woke me up instead?” 

You felt his hands run up your sides and lift your shirt until the hem and bunched fabric sat under your breasts.

“I missed you.” 

“You missed me?” you couldn't help but smile before it was quickly wiped away by him crawling back a little and kissing the skin above your belly button.

“Mmm.” he hummed an answer before kissing just a bit lower.

“Remember the thing that we both never had?” you looked down to see his big brown eyes look up at you through a mess of dark hair.

It took you a moment with your still sleep fogged brain to realize what he was talking about.

“Hey Siri, set a timer for thirty minutes,”

The robotic voice replied it’s confirmation on his phone, but he was already yanking down your pants and you were lifting your butt so he could get them off.

He gently pushed your legs apart and laid on his stomach between them, starting to run very agonizingly slow kisses up your thigh. With every small warm kiss that felt just too close or every warm breath you felt of his, a tingle of anticipation went through your body. 

“I just keep thinking,” he placed another kiss on your thigh so close you felt his cheek brush against where you needed his mouth the most before he teasingly moved into the other leg “about how I have you right here” another slow kiss “after wanting you for so, so long.” 

His words hit you hard and you knew they were making you wetter. You had never been dirty talked so sweetly before, hell, it wasn’t even dirty yet here you were soaking wet and more than ready for whatever he wanted to do to you just minutes after waking up.

“God only knows” his lips touched your slit now and it was almost too much to bear “how many times I've imagined this.” his tongue dipped into your folds and licked from bottom to top, you moaned a little too loudly and jerked slightly as his wet muscle touched your clit.

You were so ready but his lips went back to your thigh. You said nothing as he repeated this pattern once and then twice, you began to more than look forward to when his tongue would meet your clit again, after the third time you swore you could cum on the next one, he was driving you insane with his teasing pattern, you felt like he was never going to let you have what you wanted.

“Jungkook please!” you nearly yelled as he once again went back to your thigh to start over. He froze, looked up at you through all of that hair with raised eyebrows, and gave you a smile of amusement.

“If you don't stop and just get on with it already then you'll see what I do to you.” you threatened.

“Maybe I'd like to find out.” he retorted.

“Get on with it!” you wailed loudly as you gave him a half pleading glare.

“Make. Me.” he looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke. It was enough to send a feeling that felt like electricity trickling through you. You started to get up to take control but he pulled your hips flat back to the bed with a delighted smile.

“Seriously?” you laughed.

“What are you gonna do?” 

You were growing more sexually frustrated with him by the second.

“Just wait.” you threatened again.

He bent his head down and kissed the folds over your clit. You took the opportunity to place your hand on his head and not let him up.

You felt him give a little laugh before he finally went to work licking and sucking at your bundle of nerves as your fingers twisted in his hair. A few moments later you felt his fingers slip into your wet cunt and press upwards, giving you everything you wanted all at once.

It hit you all at once, your orgasm shot through you. You muttered his name as you gripped his hair tighter and felt him moan into you making the pleasure feel that much better. Even though you had already cum, it was clear he wasn’t about to stop, his fingers and mouth were working you so passionately and quickly. You were so sensitive your legs twitched every time his mouth did something too rough with you, but it just felt so good. 

You looked down at him between your legs as you felt yourself building up again and watched his eyes shut and his head moving between your legs. You don’t know how or why you found it as hot as you did, but it was enough to make you cum again just as the timer on his phone went off.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you breathed as a blissful feeling washed over you like an oven wave

He looked up at you and as soon as he was sure you were done, he stopped. He went to wipe his mouth on the back of his arm when you demanded he take his pants off.

He looked at you with raised eyebrows and a little surprise.

“Tell it to set a timer for thirty minutes.” 

“I-oh-okay. You don’t need to do that if you-“

“Do it.” You demanded once more as you took off your shirt.

“Hey Siri, set a timer for thirty minutes.” He said as he shed himself of his pajamas and sat up.

A thought had crossed your mind to tease him as he had you, but you couldn’t do that. You loved the look of it thick and veiny, the head of it already leaking from everything he had just done to you. You wanted the feeling of it filling your mouth and throat, you wanted to please him.

You watched as his already hard cock stood tall waiting for you to touch it, and you wasted no time doing so. You leaned down only playing with the head in your mouth with your tongue at first, getting a feel for the satisfaction of him inside of your mouth. He gasped when you took him all abruptly into the back of your throat. You decided immediately that you wanted to hear more of that sound so you let your head bob before your hand joined in at his shaft to help. You didn’t start slow whatsoever. You were set on making him cum faster and harder than he ever had before, throwing out the idea of time altogether. 

He sat back on his hands to hold himself up but those began to shake too the faster you went. Spit ran down onto his balls and you thought about playing with them but you felt like that might tip him over the edge. 

He was full of open-mouth moans, ones you wouldn’t mind hearing the rest of your life to the body and cock and personality of a man you wouldn’t mind having the rest of your life.

Just as you thought about it you shut the thought down and concentrated on making him feel better.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” You made out from his moans.

You kept going and felt his hips thrust up into your face in tandem with your movements. He was close, unbelievably, but for some reason, he was hanging on. Only a moment later you found out why.

“Fuck me. I bought condoms this morning, fuck me. Please I’m begging you.”

You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a lewd noise and looked at him but he was already standing up, dick as hard as a statue to crinkle a plastic bag on the island beside you both. 

“I’m deathly scared of having children when living in a place so small and with no job…”

“Thank you.” You didn't know what else to say as you watched him rip off a packet, come back to his knees, and roll the condom onto himself. 

“But then again if I did… wouldn’t that just fuck with Jin knowing I got you pregnant?” He lifted a brow.

Something about that turned you into a complete animal. You kept onto his lap and clung to him. Your lips smashed into his as you reached between the both of you and guided his dick into your hole. 

He felt just as good and filling inside of your pussy as he did your mouth. No one has ever filled you up this well, no one had ever wanted you so much.

He thrust upwards with you on his lap. You were practically a rag doll under the grip he had on your hips.

You began to rock your hips to the steady and slow way his hands commanded them.

“Ahh god.” He moaned as he let his head fall onto your shoulder and you wrapped your arms wrap around his shoulders so that your bodies pressed together.

“I love you.” He placed a kiss on your shoulder blade and whispered into your sweat sticky skin.

Your heart stopped but your hips didn’t.

He said it. It had taken him only three days. You recalled it had taken Seokjin six months and fifteen days exactly to say what Jungkook had in only three. The both of you had figured it out in only three days.

“I love you too.” You raced to say. 

His lips caught yours as he pressed you down onto his cock hard and rolled his hips under you with a grunt.

“These have been the best days of my life with you and I want to keep it that way. I want them all to be the best.” He was out of breath, his eyes were closed and his forehead rested against yours.

“Please.” You begged for the same. “Let’s move away and just be together.”

He let out a small laugh before he smiled.

“Is this gross? This is so weird, it’s only been three days.”

“I’ve never been happier.” You stated a fact. You had thought about it and thought about it non-stop. It wasn’t just attraction, lust, or infatuation you felt for him, this ran deep, deep into his personality, deep into the way he thought and did things. Far deeper than his cock that was buried inside of you right now.

“I bet I could make you happier.” He tried to hide a prideful smile.

“Oh yeah? How so?” You couldn’t help but smile back.

“I could make you cum again.”

Before you could answer he was giving you a quick kiss before practically tossing you off of him with a grin.

He grabbed your hips and flipped you over so that you were on all fours. The tingle that you got down your spine from this gesture was unbelievable.

“Hurry up and fuck me.” You demanded but he shushed you as you felt him press into your cunt.

He had only been not inside of you for a moment but your body had missed the feeling.

You gasped as you felt his grips tighten on your hips and pull your body backward onto him. He went full speed, full force slamming into you. His balls slapped against you. You were already so sensitive, so sore and tired, but you continued to want more.

“Has Jin ever fucked you like this?” 

You had never heard his voice so rough, so teasing, so devilish. You were about to lose it.

“No.” You whined.

“Who does this pussy belong to? Who’s the only person to ever cum inside of you?”

Your arms were shaking, struggling to hold yourself up. Your mouth was slightly open and your brain was so lost that you struggled for even the most simple reply.

“You.” Managed to move from your brain to your lips.

You felt his hand reach around to your clit and begin to rub fast and hard circles. It didn’t take long after that for your brain to shut down, to make way for the orgasm that blew through you like a car explosion. Your arms gave out and your face ended up on the mattress while your ass stayed in the air for him. You felt like you had melted as his dirty talk became mutters and moans. You felt his cock get harder inside of you and spill warm liquid into the condom. 

“I’ve-“ he panted from behind you with his hips now still “I’ve never had sex that good- besides- besides yesterday.”

You’d agree, but you were still a puddle with your cheek pressed into the sheets until you let yourself plop on your side after he pulled out. You felt so high. You laid there for a moment as he took off to the bathroom. He was in there a while, so you decided to get dressed in your clean clothes that he had washed last night that resided in his closet.

You were in disbelief, your hands were shaking as you pulled on the clothes.

Did he mean it?

It had only been three days since he held you in that parking lot as you cried. You remembered the hurt you felt when Jin had seen Jin cheat on you. It was the kind of hurt that left a scar on your soul. You were afraid.

Jungkook was so beautiful and so kind and you had fallen hard, too hard. You didn’t even know anything about his family or where he grew up or if he had ever had any pets or his favorite color.

Your mind was spinning, you were freaking out.

You slipped your shoes by the door on and began unlocking it.

“What are you doing?” 

His voice stopped you for a moment.

You thought about lying. You couldn’t lie, but you sure as hell couldn’t face him.

“I-I think I should go.” You stammered.

“Can we talk? Was it something I said?” 

You could hear his footsteps slowly come closer as if he was trying to approach a scared baby deer to keep it from darting away, and that’s exactly what you felt you were.

“What was it I said? The Jin stuff or the I love you?” 

You could tell his brain was doing whatever it could to piece together why you were leaving.

Just hearing him say the words again shredded you apart.

You felt your eyes welling up.

“Hey, hey look at me, please.” His voice was gentle and now coming from behind you. You couldn’t ignore him, not when he sounded so sweet. You faced him and his eyes scanned over the tears slipping down your cheeks.

“If you didn’t mean it that’s okay, you don’t have to right now. I won’t say it again if-“

“I did mean it.” Your lip quivered “I’m just so scared.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed at your words while waiting for you to explain.

“I was just hurt and…”

“If you don’t want to do this-I-I knew going into this that you were hurt, and trying to heal and a relationship might be too much for you while… it was selfish of me to-”

you cut him off by shaking your head.

“no.” you sniffled “I want you, I'm just afraid of being hurt. If I was hurt this badly by Jin, I can't even imagine how badly you could hurt me.” 

His big eyes stared with crinkled brows at you for a moment until he wrapped his arms around you.

“I swear I will never ever hurt you. I will never do what he did to you. Never.” 

Your teary cheek pressed into his neck as you breathed in his calming scent. “I'm so scared of being hurt too, I know how you're feeling. I thought you would end up going back to him and I would lose you. So many things that could make you not want me and so many ways this could go wrong keep running through my head. Please remember what you said, we're here now for each other, it's us against the world. Please please please don't leave me.”

You felt his cheek rest on the top of your head.

“I won't. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, I'm so sorry.” you sniffled with guilt and let your arms snake around his torso.

His form was becoming so familiar to you now, his scent already smelled of home, perhaps it did from the moment you had first let him hold you. Perhaps you were all his from that very moment in the parking lot, perhaps you both belonged to each other all along and just didn't know.

“I love you,” you spoke the words first this time, you felt no fear about it.

“I love you too, so much.” his hands slowly rubbed your back as you felt him kiss the top of your head.

You closed your eyes and took it all in, just you and him. You wished at that moment that you could go back and do it over. You would've picked him over anything else, and you knew you'd be so happy if you would've.

“Thank you for not letting me go.” you pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I could've really messed up just now.” 

He gave you a heartfelt smile.

“I hope you would've come back, I’d miss you a lot until you did. We're supposed to be together, you know.” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Oh yeah?” you couldn't help the smile that spread on your face.

“Mhmm. I have proof.” he lifted a hand and held it up fingers spread. “Give me your hand”

You thread your fingers through his and he let your held hands fall at your sides.

“Now close your eyes.”

You did just as he instructed and felt his forehead rest against his.

You had just had sex but any time you were this close to him made your heart pound so hard. It was as if he had unintentionally trained your body to do this for him.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered “Do you feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you that you'll never love this hard again?”

You had. You had and that's what has scared you so much.

“I do,” you whispered back.

“And can you see it? I can. I can see us moving together to the place you've always dreamed of. You'll get mad at me for being so messy but I’ll just admire you even if you're yelling at me.” 

You felt another small smile on your face as you imagined his words.

“I'll still love you even if I'm upset at you for being messy.” you let out a small breath of laughter.

“I know you will. We'll love each other no matter what because we'll be good to each other, we'll always be there to catch each other. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Please believe me. I'm yours.”

You felt him kiss your cheek softly and you have him a nod.

Your soul felt so at ease. He had calmed your pain once again.

“If you're losing your mind in here we could just go for a walk you know.” he chuckled.

“Let's do that.” you agreed to it, knowing that he was about to take you out on another adventure.

You laid in his lap and looked up at his jawline. He was playing a video game, but it was fine with you as long as you got this view. He would occasionally run his fingers through your hair or readjust the flower in it that he had picked and stuck in it during your walk earlier.

Sunset was pouring through the sheer curtains making his skin look so golden. You loved the way he looked at this hour, his appearance matched his heart. You felt so warm and loved even when he wasn’t directly giving you his attention. Jungkook’s cup was always overflowing for you when you were used to only a cup half full. You, yourself, had always offered a full cup, but you never got the love you had given back.

“Do you think we’ve earned each other?” you asked as you looked up feeling the urge to kiss every piece of his jaw.

He paused his game and looked down at you.

“I do. I think we're very deserving of one another… Well, I have thought you were always too good for me, but we're both deserving of the love for each other.”

“You thought I was too good for you?” you broke out into laughter. 

“Don't laugh, I still think that.” he was serious.

“Nooooo no no no.” you shook your head. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugged.

“Well don't think that.” you sat up.

“Sometimes it's hard not to, look at me, I'm jobless right now and you're self-made. I live in a gutter with a mattress on the floor and you-”

You shut him up by pressing your lips to his and bringing your hand up to his cheek.

“I don't care about any of that,” you told him.

“I'm going to make sure we live a good life.” 

“I'm pretty happy with you fucking me on this mattress on the floor and we can live the rest of our lives this way, I don't care.” you had to drive the point home for him. Having a good life for you wasn't about what he had to offer, but the beautiful way he lived it, you didn't want that to change.

He crashed his lips into yours now and sent you backward. Your tongues met and lashed together and suddenly your hands were all over each other.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your lips as you tried to peel his shirt off.

“I love you too,” you replied as his hands pushed up your t-shirt and bra.

His lips went right for your nipples and the feel of his tongue and teeth mixing on the nerves made you arch your back into his mouth. You were once again getting high on him.

“I want you to fuck me and cum inside of me.” your mouth spouted off.

He moaned against your breast and you swear you felt his body shiver.

His mouth popped off of your nipple leaving it cold and wet.

“Fucking marry me,” he demanded before his mouth went to the other one.

At that moment you would. You wanted that, it sounded beautiful to you.

“Please. Let's do it. You want kids?” 

“Mhmm,” he replied as his teeth tugged at your perfect bud. 

“Fuck let's have kids.” 

He sat up between your legs and began undoing his belt.

You knew there was no way right now, you were on birth control but something about saying it all and imagining the perfect life was really doing it for you right now.

He tugged his pants off only leaving him I'm his underwear before undoing yours and pulling everything down just enough to get his hand in.

His fingers ran over your already slick folds.

“I'm going to do this to you every damn day of my life.”

A knocking made you both freeze.

“Don’t answer it,” you whispered, pulling him into you so you can connect lips again. 

For a moment you both did ignore the knocking until it turned to banging.

“Open the fucking door Jungkook!”

It was Jin. You had never heard him so angry.

“Shit fuck no.” you whispered as you both jumped up and pulled at your clothes so they seemed normal “he knows. How does he fucking know?” you whisper yelled in panic.

“He might not. It's okay, it's going to be okay.” 

“Maybe you should call the police.” you tried to get Jungkook to hear you over the pounding at the door.

“I'll step outside and talk to him. It will be okay.” even looking as scared as he did he was still trying to make you feel okay.

You slipped back into the closet but this time you left the door slightly open and peered through the crack.

You watched as Jungkook answered the door, went to step outside but Jin pushed him back.

“Where the fuck is she?” it hadn't taken long for Jin’s eyes to examine the room.

“Who?” Jungkook was once again playing stupid.

“What the fuck is all of this?” Jin nearly yelled, pointing to the condom wrapper still on the floor and the places on Jungkook’s neck. “I know for a fact your girlfriend flew home just last week.” 

“I don't have a girlfriend anymore, Jin.” you could hear the agitation in Jungkook’s words through his clenched jaw.

“Then explain.”

“I don’t have to.” 

“No? Well, I talked to her and she said she hasn’t heard from you in three days, just like the rest of us have both with y/n and you.”

Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach as you now stood there frozen.

“I saw you taking photos, you didn't even try to help get the girl off of me, you just took photos. I know you sent them to her. I know what you've been telling all of the others. I know this was a setup. I know you've always been jealous of me.”

“Jin, do you know how insane you sound right now? You need to-”

“YOU KNOW I’D NEVER CHEAT ON HER, I NEVER HAVE!” Jin yelled, “So why were you taking photos?”

“Jin, I saw you kissing the other girl.” Jungkook’s voice stayed calm.

“I didn't want it, she had me pinned, Namjoon had to come to help me. Everyone has told me you've been telling them this isn't the first time I’ve supposedly done this either, explain that!”

“Look Jin, you're the cheater here! Don't come to my house and start accusing me of shit!” Jungkook finally snapped.

“YOU’RE AN INSANE MONSTER, JUNGKOOK! WHERE IS SHE?” Jin screamed as loudly as he could.

“I DON'T KNOW.” 

You noted how easily lying came to Jungkook.

“You know! You know because you set this up, you're a fucking stalker and I've always done my best to protect her from you. You gonna tell her how I caught you following her to her classes in college when you didn't even go there? Or how Hobi found a picture you somehow had of her in your room at your parent’s house? Where is she so I can tell her, I will tell her everything.” Jin was seething in anger with his fists tightly gripped into fists at his side.

You still didn't step out of the closet.

“Fine! Fucking fine! You want me to tell you that I fucked her? I fucked her multiple times! I came inside of her, she told me she loved me. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“You're sick.” Jin growled. 

“At least I'm not a cheater.” Jungkook struck right back with his words.

“You ARE! And you're a fucking obsessed freak. I swear if you ever talk to me or any of our friends again I'll kill you!” tears ran down his cheeks.

“You're the one that's fucking insane, Jin.”

Upon hearing Jungkook’s words, Jin dove at him but only managed to push him back a little.

Seokjin was sobbing, he gave up and took off out the door.

As Jungkook closed and locked the front door things were silent.

You still stood in the closet and now felt warm liquid blurring your vision and spilling from your eyes. Your body was shaking.

He opened the closet, taking you by the arm and gently pulling you out.

You covered your mouth to try to keep the break down in.

“I can explain.” 

He didn't deny it, not any of it.

“What's true? You said you wouldn't hurt me so just tell me.” you forced even your shaking voice out.

“Listen, I've never- I haven't felt the way I feel about you with anyone before, and I…”

“Oh my God.” you said as your knees now shook “It’s all true, isn't it? Oh my fucking God.” 

“I-” he went to speak but your body had gone into fight or flight and you walked past him. Your body was trying to protect you by gathering your things, but it felt too late for it to kick in.

“I love you, I always have. I can text her right now and dump her.” he was following you around.

His voice felt so distorted as you felt so out of your own body.

“You haven't yet?!” you snapped at him. “At the very least you could have already done that. If you actually did love me you wouldn't have done all of this! What the fuck is up with the talking anyway?!”

“Please don't leave me, please, I'm begging you. I meant everything I said.” he began to cry now too.

“I didn't!” you were hurting and you wanted him to hurt worse. “I was only fucking you to make myself feel better about Jin! You set this up! You ruined my relationship and hurt me! You're a fucking freak! I never want to see you again!” 

You marched to the door, very aware he had crumpled onto the floor in hard sobs behind you.

You walked, you simply just walked in the chilly night, still crying, your things under your arm. The worst part is that you did love him, you had meant everything you said to him too, but he had planned all of this. You no longer thought of him as golden, but fools gold.

You had no idea how long you had been walking, but you decided to sit down on the side of a curb.

Your hands shakily turned on your phone and texts and missed calls flooded through but you ignored them.

The first thing you did was block everyone's number. You were done, it was over, you never wanted to do any of this ever again.

The next thing you did was book a one-way plane ticket to Hawaii. 

You deserved to be happy, even if, for the first time, it was only you. Your cup had always been full of loving others, but never did you think until now that that cup could be full for only you. You wouldn't ever let anyone take from your cup ever again. What filled your cup was genuine, it was gold while all the rest held only water. 

“Tomorrow is going to be better.” you told yourself.

You weren't happy now, but you knew you would be. You could take yourself on adventures every day, you could put flowers in your own hair, and if you fell down a hill at full speed, you could catch yourself. You promised that you'd never let yourself fall ever again.

[nostaren]

Mr. Lonely

TOJI FUSHIGURO X READER

part 15 | series masterlist | next

Spending time with your underclassmen had proved to be really refreshing, as hesitant to the idea as you had been at first. The time was as such that you ideally should’ve been asleep by now, especially considering you had places to be tomorrow, but you didn’t feel tired in the slightest.

At exactly 3 am, you, Yuuji and Nobara were venturing the school premises, walking animatedly and acting very much like drunken fools without actually having had anything to drink. It was odd how much energy the three of you had, what with having not slept since the previous night.

“I’m telling you, he must be putting wax in his hair to have it stand up like that.”

“I don’t know, Itadori… Fushiguro doesn’t seem like the person to do anything with his hair other than brush it.” 

You thought about it, Megumi standing in front of a mirror and maneuvering his hands to style each strand. You snorted at the mental image. “Definitely not.”

Itadori’s hands moved to run through his pink locks. “And I do?”

“Yes,” both you and Nobara said in unison.

His response was gleeful. “So out of the two of us, I actually take care of myself!”

You and Nobara shared a glance, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles. While not particularly regimen-conscious, Megumi definitely took better care of his hygiene, the lack of smelling of sweat nearly as frequently as Yuuji being evidence to that.

“Why are you laughing? Oh! By the way, Kugisaki, we needed to read some pages in some book until tomorrow—no, later today? I just… don’t remember which book… or which pages.”

“What!? Why the hell are you telling me now?”

“You were away with Fushiguro and Panda all day! Oh no, I forgot to tell him too—ow! Stop hitting me!”

You zoned out the rest of the conversation, not really a part of it, instead becoming lost in your thoughts while trudging along to their pace.

The original plan had been to bring Megumi with you, too, but when Yuuji had incessantly knocked on his door, his response after a few minutes was to open it, call you lot morons for waking him up over something so ridiculous, then promptly sliding it shut. Hence Megumi being the subject of discussion for a good bit of your walk when the male wasn’t there to hear any of it. Nothing too horrible was brought up, just stuff that would surely make him sneeze a couple of times.

Before Yuuji had joined in, it was Nobara that dragged you out of bed, angrily going out about how men weren’t shit and how you shouldn’t spend even one second of your precious time mulling over him. Hearing her exclaim all of that without even knowing the full story pulled at your heartstrings. Nobara proved time after time how much of an unconditional friend she was, having your back even when you didn’t ask for it.

You hadn’t really been left to sort your thoughts the whole day, having been accompanied by at least one person at all times if you didn’t count the small window between when Gojo had escorted you to your room to when Nobara had come to get you. And while it would have been comforting to spill everything to Nobara—heck, even Gojo—you held back because you couldn’t help but feel it was an irrational sadness.

Because yes, you did feel a little sad.

The feeling creeped up on you as a few minutes passed of blankly watching shadows shifting across trees and listening to the bickering of your friends, sometimes adding to it, but otherwise just tagging along.

It was from being attentive of your surroundings that allowed you to notice a fourth person. A lone figure leaned on the railing of the approaching bridge, slightly hunched over and lazily typing away at his phone. 

It was by no means odd to see a person out at this hour, but within these particular school grounds? That was odd. You were outside despite it being past curfew, and you couldn’t recognize the silhouette in the distance to be one of the students. There weren't even as many students as there were fingers on your two hands, so you'd recognize any of them.

Hopefully he wasn't a teacher that you just didn't recognize, like Nanami.

Or, if he was a teacher, you hoped he was one that was as lenient about rules as Gojo.

Either way, you'd likely just pass him by and throw a casual ‘hello’ at him. No need to work yourself up over it.

But in the day's second douse of horrendous luck, your eyes, even in the dark, happened to catch sight of the particular way black strands of hair fell over his face. Your lips puckered as you took in his quite tall frame and the outline of his legs. After a moment of contemplation, you, brows furrowing, craned your neck to get a better look at him.

Was that—?

No. Fucking. Way.

“Guys let’s go that way,” you attempted to whisper over their exhilarated yelling from a heated argument, heart hammering loudly in your ears and adding to the stress of a situation you did not want to be in. When that didn’t work, you pulled at the back of Nobara’s shirt.

“Hey, that’s going to wrinkle!” 

Her exclamation fell short when seeing your form shrunken on itself in an attempt at hiding. 

“…you okay?”

“It’s—“ you threw a pointed glance towards the figure up front. “It’s him.”

 She turned to look.

“Not so obvious,” you hissed, inwardly groaning at how there was no way a certain someone wouldn’t realize you were now talking about him if he so much as glanced up. 

Yuuji meanwhile observed your exchange, oblivious to what exactly was happening but still managing to draw some (very faulty) conclusions of his own.

“Eh? Do you know him?” Yuuji squinted his eyes as if that would make him see better in the dark. To your horror, his arm moved up in a wave. “HEEEEEY!! OVER HE—mmph!”

You tackled him to the ground with a hand pressed to his mouth, tumbling into a nearby brush just as the figure ahead looked up from his phone. That left Nobara standing there awkwardly, staring at Fushiguro looking at her as if she’d grown two heads.

Your hands moved to loosely enclose around Yuuji’s throat in a mock-choking manner, whispering, “You’re a moron, you know that?”

“I know,” he whispered back. “But what did I do wrong this time?”

Your mouth opened to take your words back because now you felt a little bad, but Nobara’s “psst” interrupted you.

You looked up from Yuuji. “What do I do!?” Nobara hissed through gritted teeth.

A few seconds of deafening silence passed whereas you tried to think of something, but you apparently thought for too long because she finally decided on very obviously ducking into the bush with the rest of the crew.

Great. Real inconspicuous, Nobara. No way he could’ve seen that.

The three of you sat looking at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to do next.

“What’s he even doing here?” you broke the silence, being mindful of keeping your voice low.

“He can’t enter without permission, so he must be here for Gojo-sensei or principal Yaga… Right?” came Nobara’s answer.

She was right. He couldn’t have gone through the barriers put up by Tengen if not invited. So had Gojo somehow found out that it was Fushiguro that was involved? Or…

You couldn’t feel even a slither of cursed energy reeking from his person, no matter how hard you concentrated, meaning he must be a civilian. Gojo had a knack for doing things inappropriately, but to invite a civilian into Jujutsu High? Surely, he didn’t…

But then again, you knew nothing of their relationship.

Either way, you just wished to remain hidden until he was done with whatever business he had here so you could make your way to the dorms and sleep the accumulated stress away.

Some shuffling from the left broke your thoughts. Yuuji was crouching down, peering through the leaves. “He’s gone.”

A collective sigh of relief was heard.

It didn’t last long.

“This peeping tom a friend of yours?”

“Uwaah!”

The three of you scrambled away from the source of the sudden voice.

While the question undoubtedly was directed at you, Fushiguro didn’t seem to know who you were.

The three of you shared a knowing glace, each expression some form of shock, feeling a little disturbed over how he had managed to sneak behind all of you, civilian or not.

His eyes skimmed over your forms, back and forth and then further to the sides as if looking for someone else. Not finding it, his eyes zoned in on you and Nobara. “So, which one of you is it?”

Nobara, immediately realizing what he meant, angrily exclaimed, “Do I look that old to you!?” and pointed an accusatory finger at you, as if you were the one to cause her offense. You wanted to tell her that three years wasn’t much, and that it wasn’t really enough to tell that much of a difference, but your mouth remained clamped shut.

Green eyes met yours. “Leave us.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Yuuji moving to stand. “You expect us to just leave Y/n-senpai alone with you!?”

Sweet, sweet Yuuji.

Nobara moved to stand as well, grabbing Yuuji by the arm. “We’ll be on our way now. You two take your time.”

Horrible, horrible Nobara.

You thought she’d want you to—had even told you to—move past him, not to figure things out. Admittedly, you’d rather do the former than the latter because at least then you wouldn’t need to talk about feelings yuck and you hadn’t had any time to really think whether or not to forgive him, should he apologize.

Yuuji sputtered in disagreement and you could do nothing but break eye-contact with the looming man above you to watch as Nobara dragged a flailing Yuuji behind her, wishing it was you in his stead.

“You have alllll night,” she winked.

And then you were alone with Fushiguro.

.

.

next

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[ttuesday]

Hi! Could you do one where the fellers take care/react to a reader who has depression and is having a bad day/few days? Thank you! <3 <3 <3

I hope you get through this slump anon, honestly I’ve felt the same way too recently but I’m sure we’re both gonna get through this wave of bad days <3

Arthur

Arthur noticed your change in mood after the first day. He could tell something was off but he didn’t want to push you for answers. He had asked you if you were ok and you’d always reply saying you were fine, though that was an obvious lie. 

After a few days and seeing no improvement in your mode, Arthur decides to push you a little more. This time after you said you were yet again ‘fine’, he sighs “You sure? You seem down lately”. He isn’t great with his words and scared of saying the wrong thing.

He knows that whenever he feels down that saying around camp can do more harm than good, so Arthur suggests you go stake out Cornwall’s factory with him for a mission. Nothing much happens but giving your mind something else to focus on certainly helps.

If you do decide to tell Arthur about how you’re feeling, he stays quiet and nods along to everything you say. Even if you only tell him a small bit, he feels honoured that you trust him enough to say it and he makes sure you know that no matter what, he’s always going to be there for you.

Charles

Charles could tell from your demeanour that something wasn’t right. It’s the little things Charles picked up on, like how you now had to force a smile more often or how you always seemed distracted during conversations. 

Charles overheard a few of the others asking if you were ok and you always gave the same answer so he didn’t bother asking you that question again. Instead he asks if you’ll go hunting with him. He tells you how he needed an extra pair of hands acts totally casual .

After a nice ride through the forest and some relaxed conversation, Charles leads you through to a small opening where he apparently saw some deer. He hopes being out in nature and away from everyone will help your mind relax.

He doesn’t push you to talk about how you feel, Charles just wants you to have a good time and to have a genuine smile on your face. If you want to talk about your feelings then Charles is happy to listen and try to come up with solutions but ultimately he just wants you to have a good day.

Dutch

It took Dutch a few days to fully realise you were feeling down but he does notice it eventually. First he just presumed that you were feeling down because a job didn’t go to plan but he got worried when you’re mood didn’t seem to lighten.

His first approach to trying to cheer you up is by giving you materialistic goods. Dutch surprises you by giving you a shiny new pocket watch he just so happened to ‘find’ somewhere and he even gives you some money form the donations box and tells you to buy yourself something nice.

But Dutch can see that his plan didn’t work. Sure materialistic items are nice but they didn’t change how you were feeling. It’s times like this Dutch is happy he has Hosea to give him some advice on how to help you.

While the gang is distracted serving up dinner, Dutch pulls you aside and says “I know you haven’t been yourself lately and I know I can’t make you talk to me but if you ever feel like chatting, I’m always here for you”. He doesn’t want you to feel forced into talking but Dutch wants to make sure you know he’s there.

Micah

Micah knows this sounds kinda creepy but he likes to keep an eye on you when you’re in camp. So because of this, it’s actually pretty obvious to him when your mood changes.

When he tries to get you to open up first, he’s very abrupt and straight out asks you what’s wrong with you. But when he realises this method only pushes you further away from him, he attempts to take a more relaxed and calm approach.

When he sees you’ve trailed off by the edge of camp, Micah follows you out with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He’s always found it easier to talk when he’s had a drink and he’s hoping you’ll feel the same. 

He doesn’t expect you to tell him all about how you feel but if being there and occasionally annoying you works as a distraction from that dreadful feeling, then he’s happy to do that. He wants you to feel like you can tell him things like this, even though he understands he ain’t the most trustworthy person out there.

John

John can be kinda awkward at times and sure, he doesn’t know how to have those deep emotional conversations but he cares about you and genuinely wants the best for you.

He tries to be subtle about it and says little comments every now and again like “Well you know where I am if you wanna talk” or he’ll compliment you throughout the day, just to make sure you know how great you are as a person.

But when he sees you’re not feeling any better, he starts to worry. On the outside it’s easy to see John as someone who doesn’t notice the change within you but the truth is John sees it but he’s scared that if he brings it up, he’ll accidentally make it worse. 

In the end, John goes with what he feels in the moment. Seeing the sad, drained look on your face, John’s almost sure his heart is breaking. Sighing, he holds out his arms and says “C’mere”. John hugs your for as long as you need, not daring to let go first. Sometimes you’d be surprised how great a hug can be.

Javier

Javier likes seeing your smile. It’s the one thing that’s guaranteed to make his day better. One of his favourite things in the world is making you smile, especially since it gives him that butterfly feeling in his stomach. So he’s recognises when your smile seems too forced or as though you’re smiling without genuinely feeling happy.

Javier sits with you and reminisces about old memories, hoping stories of goofy robberies that somehow didn’t get ye killed would make you smile. And it works! …but only for a little while.

Javier knows that this feeling comes and goes, and that sometimes it can seem like it’s in the background of your mind for weeks. When he first left Mexico, he had strong feelings like this too so he knows how each day can differ and how the feeling fluctuates.

But Javier tells you he’ll be by your side for all of it. He wants to be the shoulder you cry on and for the nights that seem long and dark, he’s there. He lets you rest your head on his lap and Javier hums a few songs as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Bill

We all know what Bill is like. It can take him a while to understand how you feel but the main thing is he tries to help in whatever way he can. At first he thinks that you just feel sad over something. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal and Bill just thinks the feeling will fade in a few days. But it doesn’t.

Something that always helps Bill destress and forget about life’s problems for a while is playing with Cain. He’s convinced that dog has superpowers cause Bill’s in a good mood whenever Cain comes around. One day when Cain comes over to Bill for some belly rubs, Bill gets you to join in too.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with the two of them, using Bill’s bandana to play tug of war with Cain and laughing when Cain flops down on Bill, tired from all the games. 

As ye relax, Bill distracts you some more by telling you a few stories, like when he drunkenly mistook a cow for his horse. Bill doesn’t care if he has to tell you a thousand stories and pet a thousand dogs with you, if it’ll make you smile again then he’s willing to do it.

Sean

Sean wants to be the most helpful person ever. He wants to be there for you through it all, holding your hand each step on the way. Seriously, when Sean sees the shift in your mood and notices you aren’t your usual self then he holds on to your hand and doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

Anytime you want to talk, Sean has no problem stopping whatever he’s doing and giving you his undivided attention. You’re so goddamn special to him and he’s scared of losing you, so he puts 110% into making you feel more comfortable in yourself.

Whenever Sean hears about a robbery or sets up a job, he always brings you along, whether you wanna go or not. He doesn’t think staying around camp all the time is good for you so whenever he goes out, he drags you out with him for a change of scenery

Does Sean know what he’s doing or if he’s helping you overcome this? No, he’s just winging it but this man will literally do anything if it means getting you out of this slump.  

Hosea

This is Hosea, of course he notices when you become more reclusive and depressed. Hosea’s a strong believer in love and support helping people get through anything, and so that’s what he gives you. 

It doesn’t matter where ye are, what time of day it is or if you’re in the middle of a shootout, if you need Hosea then he’s there to reassure you and tell you everything’s going to be alright.

He understands how it can be hard to talk about things like this and how sometimes it feels like you can’t put your emotions into the right words. If you try to talk about how you feel but start to get upset, then Hosea stops you and instead suggests you just sit with him for a while and wait for the feeling to pass.

He never tries to pressure you into talking and if anyone gets pissed off cause you’re not ‘pulling your weight’ around camp then Hosea becomes absolutely furious with them, unholstering his gun making sure the person knows they’re a fool for saying such a thing.

[spice-chan]

Cure Me

King!singledad! Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

Prince Matsuki makes an interesting friend. he could have never foretold who she is to his father...

TW: curses, sickness

Thank you so much to @stargazingaloneatnight for sending this lovely request ! I totally got carried away though, so it’s going to have a second part. 

Thanks a lot to @patt-writes-stuff and @reddriot for being amazing beta readers !!

Wordcount: 4.4 K

..........................................

At the ripe age of 18, you were married off to the woodcutter in your village. 

You weren’t enthusiastic about it, but you didn’t dissent. After all, in a small village, all the people of close age were expected to marry eventually. It was either him, the farmer or the butcher. A prince isn’t going to come and sweep you off your feet.

You moved to the isolated cabin near the woods where your husband resided, and you lived there with him for a year. You wouldn’t exactly describe it as harmony, but it was peaceful enough for you to be content. He respected you and you respected him, but you yearned for something more.You yearned for love, for the overwhelming feeling that would envelope you whole, that would elicit shivers from your spine, and down to your very toes. 

But you had to get those foolish fantasies out of your head; after all, your husband was now all you had. Until you didn’t have him anymore. 

His body was found, squashed underneath a large tree that fell the wrong way. 

Guilt and loss reigned in your mind and heart. You wondered, should you have appreciated him more ? Should you have cherished the little moments instead of wishing for something better? 

It was a lonely existence for a while after that, until a red eyed, spikey haired little boy ventured to your isolated abode. 

………

Loneliness was a disease that feasted on your open wounds until they were gaping holes, bleeding and gushing, but you were unable to stitch them back together. Who wants to be lonely, truly? So all Bakugo did was cover the open wounds with his hand, growling protectively as he shielded himself. And he couldn’t stitch together the hole in his chest, even when his hand was stained red as evidence of his pain. 

He thought he loved her. He convinced himself he loved her. The only woman and person who seemingly managed to stand him and understand him. He tried so hard to be good to her. Tried to act better when he saw the gleam of judgement in her eyes. Only to wake up one day with a letter telling him “don’t look for me” and “I’ll be somewhere better. Away from you and that spawn. Good luck with him, though you’ll probably have enough soon and throw him somewhere far, the sound of his cries is annoying.” 

Him. 

She couldn’t bring herself to say her son’s name. 

It’s like he was a disposable piece of trash to her. Katsuki’s teeth gnashed whenever he remembered the way she spoke of her own son, his son. 

“DAD!” screamed a little boy, the carbon copy of his dad, running to his father's lap where he ducked down and hid between them. 

Bakugo growled playfully, bending his back to look at the excitable little boy, who held his finger to his lips. 

“What do you think you’re doing, squirt?” 

“I’m hiding from Shitty Maid.” 

Katsuki quirked his eyebrows at the foul language that came out of his son’s mouth, but his response never made the light of day as a flustered and heaving maid entered the dining chamber, her eyes frantically searching. 

“My king, I’m so sorry ! Have you seen Prince Matsuki come here ?” she questioned breathlessly, the prince having evidently tired her out. 

Bakugo clicked his teeth rather impertinently. “No, you shitty maid, I didn’t see him come here,” he replied and resumed eating, seemingly unperturbed by his son being ‘missing’. 

“Sorry, Your Majesty, I’ll resume my search for him. Sorry to have disturbed you!” she exclaimed before picking her gown and scrambling out. 

Bakugo stared beneath his chair pointedly, his carbon copy only giving doe eyes as a reply. 

“Why are you hiding anyway?!”

Matsuki crawled out from underneath the chair and stood up, dusting his knees. 

“She wants to teach me eti-etiquette or whatever,” Matsuki grumbled. “I’m going out to play with my friends.” 

Etiquette? How useless. Is that what they are teaching his son? 

Bakugo clapped his back, glad to see his son not be a pushover. “Don’t be late, squirt.”

“Ok, dad!” Matsuki jumped and enveloped Katsuki’s muscular frame in a hug with his tiny arms, warming Katsuki’s heart as he ruffled his son’s spiky hair. 

……..

Matsuki couldn’t find his friends. 

He ventured into the woods in search of them, sporting a scowl everyone should be familiar with. His tiny, handsome face scrunched slightly as he looked around the place curiously. His feet padded on, scrunching on crispy fallen leaves in their wake. 

He walked for a while, marking trees as he went along to ensure he didn’t get lost, but eventually, a sugary sweet scent had his tiny legs move faster on their own accord in search of it. The closer he seemingly got, the more powerfully the mouth watering scent assaulted his nose. It smelled cozy on this chilly day, like a warm cup of milk by a warm fire as snow fell outside.

He reached a clearing. The thick, intimidating trees that loomed over him shrunk away until there was none left. 

No trees, but he found a small cabin with a window cracked open. 

He boldly marched up to it, his mouth set in a straight, determined line. A fisted palm knocked once, twice, and thrice on the worn out wood, to ensure that it was heard. 

His nervousness set in when the handle turned and a lady emerged at the threshold. He steeled himself. His daddy told him that if he wanted something, he should work to get it. 

You smiled at him warmly when you spotted him: a young, unfamiliar boy. He looked out of his element, but his strange red eyes stared at you despite how he seemed to be unused to such situations. His eyes reflected the embers of a brave soul. 

“There was a nice smell coming from here,” he admitted, his tiny face scrunching into a scowl that seemed more adorable than anything.

“Well, yes, I baked cookies,” you responded mildly, your voice never too high but quite clear. The boy’s eyes widened, his red hues glistening in child-like excitement.

“Cookies?!”  He jumped, and clutched your gown. 

“Can I have some ?” Puppy dog eyes stared up at you, pleading and cute. You haven’t encountered a child in a long time. You stopped going to the village as often, and eventually, they stopped visiting too. Your mother died after she contracted something, her old body unable to fight it off, and your dad ran off somewhere to ‘adventure’. 

“Sure.” You moved from the threshold. “Come in.” You gestured with your head to your small cottage, a humble place, but a reminder of your lonesome existence. 

He brightened up considerably, his mouth twisting into a sweet smile. He would become such a handsome young man once he grew up. It made you wonder how beautiful his parents must be. 

You pulled a chair for him at the table, and went to put some cookies on a plate for him. 

“YUM. That’s so delicious!” He spoke between mouthfuls, some tiny crumbs flying out of his mouth in his excitement. 

“Thank you, but be careful. You might choke if you speak while chewing sweetie,” you chided him lightly. Matsuki didn’t recognize this tone, it sounded equal parts stern and caring. He nodded and continued munching down. 

“Would you like to drink something? I have some orange juice, and uh, water. I could make tea, but I don’t think kids your age fancy that you rambled, suddenly excited about having someone keep you company for the first time in a while. 

He opened his mouth to answer, but upon remembering your words, he opted to chew for a few more seconds then swallowing his cookies before bellowing out,“Yes! Orange juice.” 

How adorable. 

You poured two glasses of orange juice and joined your little companion, munching on some cookies of your own. Before long, he finished all of them and leaned back on the chair, mouth letting out a sigh and hand patting his stomach as a show of overindulgence. 

“Good?” 

“Yup! You’re a very nice lady. Way nicer than my dummy maid,” he grumbled, you weren’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned, but one thing did grab your attention. 

“Maid ?” 

He nodded, slightly confused at your question. 

“Don’t you have one ?” You quirked an eyebrow and looked around your tiny cottage. Did it look like you have one? 

Oh God, you hoped this boy wasn’t mistaking his mother for a maid. With that in mind, you asked him, however, his face fell in sadness and the fire in his eyes dulled a little. 

“I don’t have a mother. The maids always talk about how sorry they are for me. I hate it. None of them even care about me,” he spoke in a quiet voice, tearing at your heart with his down turned face. 

“But at least I have my daddy,” he spoke up, brightening a little. You smiled at that, reaching towards him and ruffling his fluffy yet spikey blond hair. 

“That’s good. Keep cherishing your father, at least the two of you have each other.” You wiped some crumbs from around his mouth with a napkin, speaking to the boy in a lonesome voice; unintentionally mothering him. 

He smiled and nodded;unintentionally accepting. 

The boy was either mistaking some people in his household for maids, or he was some rich merchant’s son. On that note—

“Did you tell anyone you’re coming here? They might be worried about you,” you asked cautiously, but then your eyes widened as a new wave of worry hit you. 

“Oh my God, what if you got lost? Do you know your way back?” 

You sighed in relief when he nodded, flashing you a smile with his teeth on display, one of them missing from the front, making it all the more endearing. You narrowed your eyes at him, prompting him to elaborate. 

“I always come to play around here with my friends. It’s really close to home!” You oo’d. However, it was now his turn to panic. “Oh no, I forgot all about them !” He looked outside, seeing the sun shining proudly in the centre of the sky. 

“I think I can still catch them,” he declared determinedly, and hopped off his seat. His tiny legs carried him to the door, his pale hand grasping the worn down doorknob, but before twisting it, he turned to you, his smile of youth gracing his face again. 

“See you later, nice lad !”

.……..……

“No way! You wanted to be a pirate? But they’re so nasty!” he exclaimed, scrunching his nose at you in disgust. You shrugged, shoulders slumped. 

“I thought it’d be a fun time. I found it in a book and dreamed that one day, I too can embark on an adventure and find hidden treasures,”you explained with a dreamy, yet nostalgic look in your eyes, akin to one looking back fondly at a long gone memory. It’s been nearly a year since you met the mystery child. You’ve been...noticeably happier. 

His cherry red orbs made your day, along with an innocence that was very hard to maintain in these tough times, although that's probably because his toughness differs from yours. 

He pouted, running a hand through his tamed locks. “Well, why can’t you?” 

He stared up at you expectantly, oblivious to what he was expecting. His red orbs burwith ith the flame of innocenand and didnuldn’t dare blow it out. 

“I don’t know.” 

Even for his young age, he was perceptive. Bbut before he could question your downtrodden face, you stood up, coughing loudly. It went on for a few seconds, and Matsuki watched worriedly as you cupped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking from the force. 

After you stopped, you breathed for a few seconds, face flushed and stamina depleted. But again, before he could question anything, you stood up, stretching. The sun hit your face, which looked noticeably paler, but you forced a smile anyway, and held your hand out for Matsuki to grab and follow suit. 

“Let’s go inside, you wanted me to redo your hair, right ?” He grabbed your hand with renewed vigor, hopping off the wood and trekking with you back inside the cottage. 

He said his maid had to slick his hair back because they had guests over and he ‘had to look more presentable’, which you internally scoffed at. His hair was amazing as it was. 

You’d never seen a texture so amazing. It was soft as silk, but it appeared spikey. Like a porcupine or something, looked thorny but had a soft side? 

You brought some water and wet his hair, before drying it with a towel. You could already see some results. You brought a hairbrush and began to hum softly while brushing his semi dry blond locks. 

You towelled it once again, before patting him across the back. Your head felt light, and a light pain began to creep in. You probably need some water. 

“THANK YOU! It was so ugly before.” He pranced about, happy that his hair no longer looked like some ‘sappy extra’. You wonder where the child got those interesting phrases. You stood up to get a glass of water, but the moment you stood up, the world swirled, spinned, and blurred. And then it all faded to black. 

You hit the floor with a loud thump, and Matsuki sprung to his feet and frantically ran to your side. 

His small hands grabbed your arm and shook you, his face growing warm and throat getting clogged up, before tears burst forth. They dampened your sleeves, continuously flowing like a waterfall, but you still remained almost lifeless on the floor. Matsuki was young, helpless, and alone. 

And he did what any young, helpless and crying child would do. 

He ran to the person he loves —his father. 

……………

Bakugou heard the sound of Matsuki running before h, felt the wind, tornado like, as the doors of his room were pushed open in a manner so excitable he’d consider it rather insolent had it not been his own son. 

 His reprimands were stuck in his throat when he saw the flushed face and bloodshot eyes of his shis heart aching at the sight. 

“What’s wongh” he asked softly, the tone rather unusual coming from him. Then again, his son coming to him crying was something very rare.oo., Matsuki took after his  and and he was a very brave and strong boy. Something that Bakugou lamented about, at times. Being his carbon copy wasn’t that much of a blessing when it came to the matters of the heart. 

Matsuki found his dad sitting at his desk, he ran to him and clung to his legs, crying uncontrollably. 

It took Bakugou a second to overcome his awkwardness and emotional constipation. He scooped his son up and sat him on his lap, wiping his tears away. 

“Hey squirt, calm down and tell me what’s wrong. If it’s someone that upset you, God help them-” 

Matsuki tried to halt his hiccups, failing for a few seconds while he hugged his dad, he patted his back comfortingly. 

“Dad, my friend…” he began, but his eyes watered as a fresh batch of tears threatened to burst. 

“What happened to your friend, Matsuki?” 

Matsuki sniffled, wiping his eyes before continuing. 

“So, she’d been sick for a few weeks, but today when I visited her, she fell and wouldn’t wake up,” Matsuk explainedd, clutching into Bakugou tightly. 

Bakugou hummed, nodding solemnly. 

“Can you take me where your friend is?” 

Matsuki nodded, but Katsuki was dubious about the nature of this pursuit. His distrustful nature was shining through.If this ‘friend’ was outside the protective barrier, then Katsuki didn’t know what to really expect. So before leaving his room, he donned his protective amber around his neck, a magical jewel chosen by his dragon when he was younger. All shifters choose an enchanted jewel to guard their existence and warn them of dangers. He made sure to pick up his son’s, looping the necklace around his neck, the jewel dangling and shining. 

He needed to give his son a talk about this. 

…………

They walked in the forest for a while before reaching a small, worn out looking cottage. Bakugou arched a blond eyebrow, more curious than ever. He’d think it was a ploy with more sinister intentions, luring both prince and king but… he’d never seen his son more shook up over someone, they must mean a lot to him. He couldn’t bear to delay this. 

They reached the door, the wood creaking as Bakugo opened it. His ruby eyes started searching for you, and when they caught your figure on the floor, they began gleaming. 

He felt the breath knocked out of him when he saw you, asleep (he hoped) like an angel with your hair looking wild but still adding to your charm like a halo. You looked so soft, so precious, and it felt like his life only began this moment when he caught sight of you. 

His heartbeat was so strong, he could feel it in his very eyes, who were overwhelmed with the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He had seen plenty of beautiful women, ones he didn’t spare a second glance at, extras, unworthy of his time. But for some reason, the beauty of you rooted him in his spot and halted all rational thoughts. He was only broken out of his reverie when Matsuki shook him. He felt a rush of love, devotion, and ease like he’d never felt before. It all made sense, the sense of loneliness, of being lost when his path is clear in front of him. Of finding every potential romantic partner lukewarm at best. 

“Dad. Can you help her ? I don’t want her to be sick anymore.”

And in that moment, it dawned on him. 

Katsuki found his soulmate, but there’s a chance he might have already lost her. 

He ran to you checking your vitals, and thankfully, everything seemed fine. He put his forehead against yours, cursing when he felt a scalding fever. 

“What happened ?” He picked one of the numerous questions buzzing in his head. 

“Well, she did my hair like I’d asked her, but the moment she stood up, she fell down! I tried waking her up, but she wouldn’t. She’d been coughing a lot the past few weeks too and looking tired,” Matsuki explained clearly, now comforted by having his father share the weight with him. 

Katsuki looked around at the rather shabby place. Fit for a commoner. Not you. 

He was baffled at having a mate. Only the most legendary, wise and favoured dragons did, the dragons that made it to history scriptures. Things no one considered him to be. Things he was succumbing to not being. Things she convinced him he wasn’t. Sure, he could fight deadly wars, bring nations down to their knees, but violence did not warrant a soulmate. 

He scoop you up, closer to his chest. Heyouyou tightly, heart physically hurting at the thought of you being in pain. He just met you, what’s with him ? 

He stood up, nudging his son to leave. 

What a coincidence. An insane, crazy coincidence. 

His son, his only blessing in this shrouded world, was what led him to the one thing nobody thought he’d have. 

“Tell me more on the way.

Matsuki nodded. 

……………

Bakugou laid you on his bed, surrounding you with the softest materials one could ever touch. He pulled a chair besides you, lounging on it as he waited for a healer to arrive. 

You remained unconscious, but it seems like your temperature increased even more. He was so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn’t register that Matsuki walked inside the room until he was addressing him. 

“Is she going to be alright ?” Bakugou didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, then again, he didn’t have the heart to lie to him either. 

“I don’t know.” Somehow saying it out loud hurts even more. 

A knock on the door broke the gloominess. 

“Come in.” 

Hope walked in, in the shape of a short, old lady with medical equipment. 

Recovery Girl inspected you, from temperature to heartbeat. And when done, she sighed. 

“Everything boils down to it being a simple fever, but in that case, she wouldn’t be unconscious,” she explained ambiguously. She took one of your hands, and andr fingertips were icy cold. 

She hummed contemplatively. She brought out a healing crystal, squeezing it in one fist, while she held your hand in the other. The idea was to transfer the healing energy from the crystal to you, only possible through a healing mage. 

However, when nothing seemed to happen, Recovery Girl opened her fist. She found a shattered crystal. 

“Oh my…” 

Bakugou growled, frustration willing up and tipping over. “The fuck!” 

Recovery Girl glared at him. Such language shouldn’t be used in front of a child. 

“Typical healing methods aren’t going to work.” 

Silence reigned over this time, willing the old lady to continue on, both his and his son’s hearts on the edge. 

“I believe she’d been cursed.” 

Bakugou scrunched up his eyebrows at the absurd explanation. Who’d curse you of all people ? He only just discovered your existence!

Yet for some reason, he felt like he’d rather die than let you, the one who could love him for all his flaws, the one who always brought a smile on his son’s face, suffer. 

“How?” The deity up there must be very cruel, to take you away when he just met you. 

“I don’t know, son. There’s a very strong, malevolent energy, enough to break a healing crystal. It’s going to make her body reject anything that could heal it,” she explained solemnly. 

“If you want this young lady healthy and well, we need to take different measures to heal her. Also, do you know who cursed, or where she could have incurred it? That will be very helpful.” 

Bakugou looked at Matsuki, knowing that he himself is clueless. 

“This is the first time I met her. Matsuki seems to have met her a while ago in her tiny ass cottage outside the protective barrier.” She looked like she had some questions, but instead directed her attention to the little Bakugou and asked him what matters most right now. 

“Do you know anyone that might’ve done this? Have you seen her interact with anyone that could possibly be capable of it?” She knew asking a child would likely be more fruitless then not, but she still wished to help you in any way she could. 

Matsuki shook his head. 

“I’ve never even seen her talk with anyone.” This only served to increase Bakugou’s suspensions. Could it be something to do with your affiliation with Matsuki ? And if that was the case, then there’s so many other things he must take into account too, because that would mean that there’s a traitor in their midst, or at least someone that had been tracking Matsuki for… what fucking ever reason. 

He sighed, feeling an ache beginning to form in his head. He touched your arm, wanting to reassure himself that you are alive. 

A gasp rang out from the occupants of the room when you opened your eyes, making them seem glowy when the sunlight reflected off them, giving you an ethereal, angelic radiance. 

The air left his lungs, while blood rushed to his cheeks, making them seem ripe as apples. 

“How is this possible?” 

This shocked him awake, out of his reverie and into reality. 

Recovery Girl glanced at the arm Bakugo was touching, humming to herself with a knowing glint in her old, wise eyes. 

“Well, my king, did you forget? The oldest, most powerful magic that dragons have been gifted::soulmates.” 

Bakugo blushed again, kissing his teeth and glaring at Recovery Girl. 

“What are you babbling on about, old hag?” 

“I believe you know.” 

He glared at the ground, childishly not answering. 

“Um...what’s going on?” A small, feminine voice asked. Bakugou turned to you, melting at the majestic sound of your voice. 

“That’s a good question.” That brat. 

Bakugou tried to stay in contact with you, afraid of making the burst of magic triggered by your bond slipping away. 

“Uh, you lost unconsciousness and Matsuki asked me to help you. Oh, and apparently you were cursed.” Bakugou bluntly spits the facts at you, not thinking ahead for your reaction. 

“A CURSE?” you shouted, coughing after due to hoarseness. The old hag shot Bakugou another glare, before sweetening up and looking at you. 

“We’ll explain after you rest a bit and freshen up, you’d been through quite a bit.” she said, deliberately not divulging any information yet. She didn’t need to be there for the grand explanation. She’d rather not be, actually. 

She stood on her weary legs, leaving the room unnoticed as you admired your surroundings, and as Bakugou admired you. Matsuki’s stare lacked the burn of fascination as he stared at his father grumpily. 

“The fuck you looking at her so weird for?” Matsuki seethed. You gasped and turned to him. 

“Matsuki!” He bristled in frustration, having forgotten how much you hated it when he cursed. 

“Sorry. He was though!” 

Bakugou, throughout the whole thing, glared at his son with blushing cheeks. He wanted to spank some respect into him so bad right now. 

You turned to Bakugo, gaze weighty in the seriousness it’s burdened with. 

“Thanks for helping me, I appreciate it. You’re Matsuki’s father, right? The resemblance is hard to miss. Well, I have a lot of questions, but firstly, what do you mean by cursed?” 

You felt as if a rock was pressed against your chest, gloom overtaking your features as you awaited his answer. Still hopeful that it was a joke, but the ancient dark magic was not to be joked with. 

“Someone cursed you. It’s the cause for your sickness, and it’s slowly sapping the life out of you. You’re only awake because uh...the magic of our bond is more powerful.” Bakugou rushed the last part, his heart beating, squeezing painfully when silence hung in the air after his not so confession. 

You purse your lips, the movement catching Bakugo’s attention, drawing him to your lips. Supple, kissable lips. 

“Our bond?” 

Bakugo nodded. 

“You’re my soulmate, it’s why—probably why Matsuki was so drawn to you.” Bakugo was looking forward to explaining more, before his door was busted open (a common occurrence these days it seems) by a panting soldier, who summoned the strength to salute stiffly. 

“Your majesty, we have received a letter from Celeane Siloh.” 

Well, what a great introduction to the family. 

...............

Kofi

Don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this !

[lily-drake]

Death

Death was nothing new in Marinette’s life.  In fact it played a large role.  Her friends and city had died a hundred times over.  Her brother.  Her funny, smart, loving, dramatic brother had died at the hands of a mad man.  She didn’t think it was wrong for her to use the horse miraculous to visit her brother's grave.  It was officially five years after all.  He would be 20, he would have loved to plan out her 16th birthday this year.  She sat down and read Pride and Prejudice out loud, only a few tears falling as she glanced at the grave every so often.  She had also brought a bouquet of white lilies, statices, red carnations, and white daisies.  Soft grass laid over the dirt, the sun gleamed above, and sometimes when she would lean against the grave it was almost like she could feel him.

Dark storm clouds began to cloud the sky, and she knew she would have to leave soon, though she didn’t want to.  Dad would be upset if he caught her, though considering how many weeds she had to remove from the grave and how abandoned it looked, she doubted anyone had visited any time soon.  Suddenly the rain began to pour down and it felt like the earth shook.  She felt a great imbalance, but where, and how?  She touched both of her ears and she could feel her miraculous still there, Tikki even poked her head out from her bag with a look of fear.  A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as rain came pouring down soaking everything in sight.  She looked around, and she kept spinning searching for something, anything that could have caused or been affected by the imbalance.  She waited there for many minutes just waiting, when she felt the dirt beneath her feet begin to shift a little.  She quickly moved away and watched as the dirt slowly moved and shifted.  She felt sick, because the dirt moving was directly where Jason was lying in eternal rest.  This couldn’t be right, this must be some mistake!  Her brother had died, she had seen the body, it haunted her nightmares for so many nights.  He’s been gone for five years!  This can’t be possible without some type of wish.

The grass began to move and shift away, and a fleshy mud covered hand raised from the ground causing a scream to rip from her lungs.  Her body sprung into action before her mind caught up to her beginning to help dig up her brother's grave, and when she saw the jet black hair covered in dirt and mud she knew that it was him.  She heaved him out from the hole and stared in shocked horror as he just sat there staring at her.  His eyes were the same blue she remembered, but they were so clouded.  Fear, confusion, and nothing shown in his eyes, like he wasn’t even truly there.  This must be a dream, it has to be, no, a nightmare.  Her brother shouldn’t be back, he died, she saw his limp body in dad’s hands, even if Alfred and bluebird tried to stop her.  But the imbalance was real, she could tell, and he was affected by it.

Slowly she raised her hand and hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek.  He leaned into her hand, though his eyes were still clouded and void.  He may be alive, but he wasn’t fully…alive.  She tackled her older brother into a hug and began sobbing onto him, but just sat there, head leaning against hers.  Pressing her ear against his chest she could hear his gentle heartbeat, and just for a moment everything seemed like it would be ok.  Then she felt a sharp prick in her neck and the world faded to black.

________

Marinette awoke to darkness.  She tried to sit up and felt her hands held behind her back being held together by something cold and thick.  Memories flooded back into her mind and she snapped into awareness and looked around.  It was dark, though there was a small light coming from a window far above where she could not ever reach.  The walls seemed to be made of thick stones and there was a heavy iron door a few feet in front of her.  Jason wasn’t there though, he wasn’t in the room, she didn’t understand.  Suddenly the door opened and she looked up and saw her mother’s green eyes.  Her panic grew again, how did she get here, was she captured too?  She had visited her often in Paris.  She was very vague about her job, and she knew it was probably sketchy, but could it be bad enough to be captured?

“Marinette, My Darling.  I apologize for your treatment, I did not realize that you were part of this.”

Talia rushed towards her daughter and unlocked the chains.  She was pulled into a tight hug that Marinette quickly returned.  After a few moments she pulled away but held her shoulders gently.

“I must show you something, come.”

Talia quickly stood and helped her daughter to her feet and walked swiftly through the calls of Nanda Parabat.

“What is mom?”

Talia smiled at that, she had always loved when her daughter called her that.

“It’s a surprise, My Flower.”

A few more twists though hallways and they stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

“I want you to meet someone.”

The door was pushed open and there sat a small baby in a crip with dark black hair, tanned skin, and dark green eyes.  Marinette gasped and covered her mouth,

“Meet your brother, Damian.”

Marinette slowly walked over and stared at Damian through the top of the crib.  He silently watched and studied her without making a sound.

“He’s about 3 months old.”

Talia said, smiling happily as she watched her daughter run her fingers through Damian’s small tresses of hair.  With a snap of her finger one of her shadows stepped next to her.

“Bring Jason.”

And with that order they were gone returning a few minutes later with a boy who was alive physically, but was mentally gone.  She could fix that though, it would be the last resort if all else failed, but she could fix it.  Marinette looked up when she heard Jason’s footsteps and her bright smile fell slightly into a small sad one.

“Jay-Jay.”

She whispered softly as she took slow steps towards the boy.  She quickly ran and hugged him again.  He no longer smelled like mud and he wasn’t wearing his suit, and he was….he was alive again!  Tears fell down her cheeks, because she missed him so much.

________

Marinette stayed with her mom in what she learned was Nanda Parabat.  She trained with Jason, but he was catatonic, just going through the motions blankly.  It worried her, especially as she watched her mother grow more anxious.  She cared for her little brother, and wondered if her dad knew, or if he would even care.  She often looked at Paris news for when she needed to go for Akuma attacks, but if her host parents even realized she was gone.  They hadn’t, nor had any of her “friends” apparently as they hadn’t sent her a single thing from the weeks she’s been gone.

Marinette knew that Nada Parabat wasn’t a good place, knew that the people were bad, knew that her grandfather was the head of it.  He didn’t seem to care who she was, he just thought she was some nurse for Damian, and she was thankful for that.  She knew that the Lazarus Pits were here, what they did, how they were made, how her grandfather used them for selfish purposes.  She didn’t do anything though, she was mad at her father for sending her away, mad that he adopted a bee kid only a year after he sent her away, mad that he never talked to her, mad that Dick never fought for her or looked for her, mad that Jason was forced to wake up and climb his way out of his grave only to be practically brain dead, mad that her classmates believed lies over her, mad that her host parents believed them and treated her like dirt or an invisible object meant to seen and not heard, mad that Chat Noir would leave her during battles because she didn’t return his affections, and mad that no one cared that she was gone!  So she trained as hard as she could, made sure that she perfected everything her mother threw at her.  Took care of her family and made sure they knew how thankful she was for them and loved them.  Then when she finally got a text from someone it was insults for being a horrible person and hurting Lila when she hadn’t been there for weeks!

She threw her phone at the wall and the crack echoed around the room.  Her breathing was harsh and ragged and then the tears she had been holding back finally fell.  Sobs wracked her body as she bit her lip to keep silent.  She tried to take in deep shuddering breaths, but it was no use and the sobs came out.  Her knees felt weak and she crumpled to the ground.  The door burst open and she saw her mom there knife in hand looking around the room with swift deadly eyes.  When she didn’t see any visible threats she kneeled in front of her daughter and looked directly into her eyes.  Eyes a storming blue that flooded with tears and made her heart ache and her want to murder whoever made her precious daughter look so broken.

“My Flower, what’s wrong?”

“N-nobody cares ab-about me!  No one cares that I’m g-gone.  Everyb-body hates me, and I’m so tired of it!  I’ll n-never be enough for an-anybody and I’m t-trying so h-hard to do wh-what everyone needs or exp-ects me to be!”

Marinette stuttered out between sobs.  Talia glared at that and felt anger at Bruce.  She thought that he at least checked in with her every once in a while.  She had guessed wrong then.  She pulled her daughter into a hug and let her cry against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh.  It’s okay.  You are perfect the way you are Marinette.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You’re such a good sister, you train so hard, and you have so many amazing skills and talents.  You are enough, don’t let anyone say anything different.”

Marinette gripped onto her mom and they both just sat there in silence as Marinette finally just cried.  After who knows how long Marinette gently pushed away and looked her mom directly in the eyes with complete seriousness said,

“I want you to help me fake my death.  If everyone wants to pretend I’m gone or wants me to disappear, then fine.  I will.  I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

Talia stared at her daughter in shock for a moment then gave her a small smile.

“It will be done my dear, you will be free.”

“Thank you mom.”

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @laurcad123

[deexchanel]

Vacation

Word Count:

Pairing: Avengers x BlackFem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, A tipsy reader, Fluff maybe?

Summary: the avengers finally have a break off from avenging the world. The first place they go for vacation? Maui Hawaii.

A/N: You guys liking my content means a lot💜💜. when writing one-shots why don't people put oufits? i wanna see wtf i be wearing since im y/n!😂 I got some long faux locs in my hairrr sooo ykk i had to put it in here🙂

Y/N stood in the kitchen pouring coconut rum into a drink that she found a recipe for on google. It was called a mermaid cocktail and it looked like something she could get away with, without any of her family members saying something. "I'm so ready to drink this, it looks so good." She mumbled stirring the rum mixture.

She is 23 years old but the team still treats her like a little kid. As of right now, everyone was taking a nap from their huge lunch. All those missions they work was eventually stressing them out so Y/N took it upon herself to plan a vacation for them. She rented out a huge beach house for them. Best idea everr!!

Seeing the smiles on their face made her feel so content with her main priorities being happy. "What are you making?" Loki's voice said from behind her. Y/N gave him a big toothy grin. "Oh, nothingggg!"

"You're up to no good, I know you are." Loki raised an eyebrow at her turquoise-looking drink. "I'm not going to even ask." He sat down at the island, shaking his head. Y/N could feel something was off with him. She put the pitcher in the refrigerator, then sat beside him in the chair.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking Y/N."

"About? We're on vacation Loki, we can think when we're back at the tower doing boring missions." Y/N stared at his jet black hair, having the urge to run her fingers through it.

"No, you can't touch my hair." Loki knew exactly what she was thinking. Y/N pout her bottom lip, squinting her eyes. "That's not what I was going to do. Anyway, what are you thinking about?"

"I feel out of place. I just know they are still mad with me from the events of New York." Loki buries his face in his hands. "I want to go back to Asgard, I know they'll rather want me there than here."

Y/N removed his hands."What makes you think that Loki? If none of wanted you here then I wouldn't have told you about this trip. " She giggled making him let a small smile creep on his face. "You're right where you belong and if anyone isn't happy about you being here then just know that Thor and I are ecstatic to have you here. I'm glad you came, means a lot to me."

"Means a lot to know that you want me here Y/N." Loki's small smile went to a big one. Y/N slowly moved her hand to his hair. He watched her slow movement in amusement "No Y/N." She huff playfully giving up.

"Fine, I'll try another time but I'm happy that I made you smile. You're way easier than Bucky's serious ass. Now that's out the way, it's hot girl summer so no sadness from no oneee!!" Y/N exaggerated getting out of the chair going back over to the refrigerator. She pulled out that now cold pitcher, chugging down the concoction.

"Did I hear Y/N say something about a hot girl summer?" Steve rubbed his eyes while he walked downstairs. Y/N rubbed her mouth from the leftover drink on her lips. Steve furrowed his eyebrows at the now half-empty pitcher. "What's that?"

"Nothing! Don't even stick your nose in it." Y/N put the pitcher back. Steve looked at Loki who just shrugged his shoulders with confusion still written on his face. Y/N placed a rushed kiss on their cheek so they wouldn't smell the amount of alcohol she just consumed. "I'm going to get ready so we can go to the beach. Steve wake everyone up for me please so we can leave in the next 30 minutes."

"Okay Y/N," Steve replied ready to question her but she was already up the stairs. 20 minutes later Y/N had music blasting from the speakers while she ready. From that consumption of alcohol, it kicked in about 10 minutes after she got ready. She was only tipsy, maybe. Y/N couldn't focus because she kept giggling at everything.

"Damn why is everything so funny!" Y/N said getting mad at herself. Her long black faux locs flowed down her back after she struggled to place them in a high ponytail. Meaning she broke 3 hair ties and gave the hell up.

"Y/N we're waiting on you!" Tony yelled up the stairs but Y/N waved him off. She grabbed her purse, pausing the music. Tripping over her feet a bit, she made her way downstairs. Bucky caught a glimpse and instantly spoke up.

"Oh hell no Y/N. Go change."

She waved him off too, purposely ignoring him. "I'm readyyyy". Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to agree with Barnes. Y/N that isn't a swimsuit, that's two pieces of cloths."

Thor smiled, "I like it Y/N and since I like it, we can leave." He picked up a beach chair but everyone yelled no in protest except Natasha. Thor rolled his eyes sitting the chair down. Loki moved her hair aside, closing the white and blue shirt that she wore.

"Now you need a hair thingy to keep it close."Y/N smacked his hand away lightly, going over to the kitchen to find some chips. "Y/N why aren't you saying anything?" Bucky followed still upset about her outfit.

"Her outfit is fine guys. Let's go because you guys are over exaggerating." Natasha placed her shades on her face. "I got your back Y/N!"

"It's not fine, she's showing too much," Steve said being overprotective. Still not phased, Y/N nodded her head from the kitchen. " That's why you my bitch, thank you!" Everyone was shocked by her choice of words. Bucky grabbed her waist.

"Y/N are you drunk?"

Y/N giggled,"A lady never drinks, she sipssss." She dragged out the s, kissing his nose. Bucky pressed his lips together, getting his answer.

"Guys she's drunk!"

Groans went around the room. Steve was in realization,"Ohhh so that was what she was drinking when I came downstairs earlier."

------

"And it's hard to keep my cool

When other bitches tryna get with my dude and

When other chickens tryna get in my coop

'Cause you're a one in a million

There ain't no man like you"

Y/N belt out the lyrics to Streets for the 13th time while Bucky held her in his arms while they were in the ocean. They had been at the beach for 30 minutes, and a biker went by playing that song in her speakers. Y/N haven't let go of the song since.

"Y/N if you sing the same lyrics one more time, I swear I'm going to drop you." Bucky scolded while she gripped his shoulder tighter. Y/N placed her head on his chest, the sun was getting rid of her drunkness. She was tired since she didn't take a nap like everyone else plus Bucky's heartbeat and the sound of the oceans was calming her down. "Sorry! It's stuck in my mind."

Steve, Tony, Loki, and Thor played on the beach with water guns. Natasha laid in the sun, getting a tan. Per Y/N's request, Bucky was in the water holding Y/N close. She was surprised that he even agreed to it.

"Bucky?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"I'm tired."

"I figured, let's get you out the water." Bucky turned around to walk back to the shore. Y/N just snuggled more to his chest. "Bucky?"

Bucky’s voice held slight annoyance, thinking she was playing."What is it Y/N?"

"I'm glad you came on this trip, I know this past year had been so hard on you and I thought this trip would help ease your mind. Plus I got to know you better, that’s a bonus.”

“Yeah at first, I didn’t want to come but I couldn’t turn down seeing you in a bikini.” Bucky laughed making Y/N laugh as well hitting his chest lightly. “Bucky!”

“What? I’m being honest. I just rather for only my eyes to see.”

“You’re such a flirt.”

“You going to have to get used to it. But for real though, this trip made me not think about things that's been haunting my mind. Coming on here was the best idea.”

“I’m glad I could help with that.” She tapped his shoulder for him to stop. He placed Y/N on her feet. “I’ve come up with the best plan though.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “What’s the plan?”

——

Y/N made herself sink underwater. Bucky waited a couple seconds before putting on his best acting voice. “Guys! Guys! Y/N she’s drowning!” Natasha stood at the shore, looking out at the water in concern. The team wasted no time running in the water.

“What?!?”

“What happened??!?”

“Oh god, Y/N?!”

“Shit!”

Steve was Y/N's victim, he hunched over in her area of the water. Bucky pulled at the ends of his hair keeping the act going. “She was doing alright until I couldn’t hear her anymore.” Y/N lurched up grabbing Steve by the neck, pulling him in the water.

Bucky's face of distress turned into humor. “Steve she got you good!” Both Y/N and Steve appeared out of the water. Y/N was laughing so hard she was clutching her stomach. Loki found it amusing while Tony, Steve, and Thor didn’t.

“That was a good one Y/N.”

“Don’t listen to Loki Y/N. You had us worried!”Thor huffed and Steve nodded his head in agreement.

“Yeah! I thought something really happened to you.”

“I’m sorry guys.” Y/N snorted trying to contain her laughter. “It’s not my fault, it’s Bucky. He came up with the idea. You guys should’ve seen Steve’s face when I came out of the water.”

Steve mocked her laugh, “Ha Ha Ha. It’s not funny.” Bucky held his hand in defense trying not to laugh as well. “It’s not mine! This was all her idea.”

“Capsicle is right, it’s not funny. Don’t scare me like that again.” Tony scolded her, he held out his arms. “Now come give me a hug so I can feel better.” Y/N gave him a hug, that humorous smile not leaving her face. When she tried to pull away, Tony held a grip. She realized.

“TONY!”

He laughed leaning forward and they both fell in the water. Soon it turned into a big splashing war between everyone, they were having so much fun.

————————-

At 7:28 p.m. both Y/N and Bucky walked back to the beach for dinner. The restaurant they chose for tonight’s dinner was there. Since Y/N is over the planning for the vacation and Bucky is attached to her hip, they were at dinner first.

“I know the wait is going to be minute so sit down while I talk to the hostess.” She reassured him. Bucky looked at her kind of worried because he wasn’t comfortable with crowds yet. She squeezed his hand, “You’re okay.”

Bucky nodded his head reluctantly. Y/N walked off to make sure this restaurant gave them a private table away from the crowd, preferably on the beach. After about 10 minutes of talking, something just told her to turn around. It was some woman that looked around Y/N’s age steadily talking to Bucky even though he looked so uncomfortable.

“Hold on one sec.” Y/N held a finger-walking away, not even waiting on the hostess's response. Y/N quiet appearance kinda scared them both. “Excuse me. Hi!”

The woman looked at Y/N with attitude. “Um, why are you speaking to me?”

Y/N took a deep breath to calm down. “ I’m speaking to you because you’re talking to my boyfriend and you obviously see him uncomfortable.” It was for the sake of the moment. Bucky and Y/N aren’t together, just a few flirts here and there. But since Y/N knew this bitch couldn’t take a hint she said, boyfriend.

“You might have him confused for”

Y/N cut her off, “No I don’t have him confused for no one. That’s my boyfriend so get your desperate ass out of his face before I embarrass you in front of everyone. We don’t want that do we? Now walk away miss.”

The woman turned her nose up walking away without saying another word. Once she was out of sight, Bucky visibly relaxed. “Thank you so much Y/N. She wouldn’t stop talking and my a-anxiety was getting bad because I didn’t know her and...” He shook his leg. Y/N sat beside him giving him a hug.

“Hey hey calm down, it’s okay now. I could see she made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t going to stand there and let her continue to do that.”

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Anything for you Bucky.” Y/N kissed his forehead then she stood up, holding out her hand. “Now let’s go get this table because I did cut the hostess off coming to help you.”

Bucky laughed grabbing her hand. As they walked back over to the stand, realization hit Bucky. He smirked.

“So I’m your boyfriend now?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, “No Bucky, it was in the heat of the moment.”

“What if I was to ask you out?”

“In your dreams Bucky.”

————

This took longer to write then what it supposed to be.

Hope you guys like it 🥰, I was trying to include a Loki moment because I’m starting to like him more.

Stay slutty my friendsss!

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.