#this is supposed to come with the other part but I'm tired and in pain so. I'm won't

[steven-scribbleverse]

[mrpenguinpants]

Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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[williamssgirl]

❀*ੈ˖°.𖥔 ݁ casual (part ii)

you can read part one here!

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: you haven't spoken to ellie in a week, 9 missed calls and 38 texts from her, none of which you've answered, but ellie doesn't give up so easily.

warnings: smut, mdni, intimate sex, the knee thing (e!receiving), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), switch!ellie and reader, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, fluffy, reader lives in an apartment, ellie is very apologetic, barley proofread & semi-rushed and i think thats it. lmk if not.

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this was meant to be like 1.6k words so idk how we got to 35 words away from 3k but... enjoy! dt: @satellitespinner

don't buy tlou | free palestine

(1:02am) ellie

please let me explain

(1:06am) ellie

cmon please i promise it'll be worth your while

(1:07am) ellie

i have your bra among other things. let me know when you'd like me to drop them off. i'm sorry.

(1:09am) you

guess who texted again

(1:09am) olive

no way

r u gonna reply?

(1:10am) you

absolutely not

i made a fool of myself

(1:11am) olive

maybe and JUST MAYBE

reply to her and get ur closure + super sexy bra back

(1:12am) you

what the fuck olive

do you want me to die? genuine question

(1:12am) olive

LISTEN

it might help

plus she seems genuinely apologetic

why is she even apologising?

(1:14am) you

for being a dick and wanting a quick hookup?

(1:14am) olive

because she has feelings and she knows she fucked up?

(1:15am) you

😐 bye

(1:15am) olive

just reply! say sometime tmrw. it can be easy, a quick in nd out

okay?

(1:16am) you

i'll think about it

(2:03am) you

11:30, you get two minutes

(2:03am) ellie

thank you so much

(2:03am) ellie

i'll be there

nine hours later, and ellie was a mess.

you had given her permission to come over and return your bra – hell you had her jumping for fucking joy when she saw that message.

but now she had to actually talk to you, and what the hell was she supposed to say? that she was sorry? that she 'couldn't sort out her feelings?' all of which felt wrong (maybe they only felt wrong because she was staring at herself in the mirror while repeating them for three hours... who knows).

but ellie had found herself with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a plan.

a plan to win you back.

she was going to apologize, let you scream at her, and hopefully let her explain, all in the two minutes you had gratefully gifted her.

so, when she rang the doorbell to your apartment after hiking the six story stairs, she found herself staring at her old, beaten up converse. stars and hearts you had drawn all along the sides of the soles almost mocked her.

then you opened the door, and ellie couldn't look up.

useless apologies started spilling from her mouth, panicked words that meant nothing. a collection of "i'm sorry” s and a series of "please let me explain" came pouring out, that was until she grew the gall to look up at you and take you in.

her heart stopped when she did, so did her words.

you looked tired. clearly old yet comfortable clothes adorned your body, you had your arms over your stomach but they weren't crossed, you weren't mad, you could never be mad at ellie, no matter how badly you wanted to be especially in this moment.

words rushed through her head but never made it out her mouth, you were... exhausted. and she caused it, she caused all this pain you were going through. 

“oh…” she softly whispered, her stance faltering at the sight of you, not because you looked like how you did but because she was so mad at herself.

you sigh, you had made no effort to adjust your appearance or put makeup on. you told yourself it was because you had no energy to, but in reality, you wanted to show ellie how you were hurting, that she had caused this, that something fun and sweet had gone sour and at your own expense. 

“ellie, i know i look….” you remove your arms from your stomach and signal to yourself shamefully, tears almost springing from your sunken eyes at the regret you feel for not even trying to fix yourself up, “ but can i please just have my bra back?” you’ve changed your position once again so that you’re leaning up against the doorframe of your apartment, gray sleeves up by your knuckles. 

“no! no no no not at all you look… pretty. really pretty.” she breathes out hurriedly, your cheeks heat up before you spot the bouquet, and that's what makes the tears spill. because why was she here? she had never described you as pretty before, only hot or sexy, so why is she here apologising and calling you pretty if she doesnt just want a quick fuck by validating you? 

tears now evidently filled your eyes, ellie’s kind smile had now turned into one of worry and concern when she saw the tears threatening to spill from your tired eyes, moving forward to embrace you, but she hesitated. will it only make things worse for you? feeling her again? 

“can- can i touch you?” she asks gently, nerves shaking at the chance of you pushing her away for good, telling her she can keep the bra and slamming the door shut in her face. 

instead, you silently shake your head yes and grant her permission to embrace you, it was a stupid idea, really, because everything you felt, all the times she had touched you that you had so desperately been trying to shut out came flooding back and it took everything in you not to sob, the subtle stream of tears gliding down your cheeks was worse enough. you avoided her sorrowful eyes, you didn't want her to feel sorry for you, you just wanted her. 

ellie lets go of you, she’s still standing at the doorway, converse planted firmly on your ‘welcome!’ doormat, she delicately reaches to hold your cheeks and force your wandering eyes to look into her own, staring for a second, memorizing your face just in case before looping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you inside, closing the door behind the two of you with her foot, not looking back once. 

you can feel the flowers gently brush against your shoulder as she never put them in her other hand, but the feeling of them is oddly comforting. you're not sure why exactly it’s comforting, but you do however manage to notice they're your favorite. 

ellie guides you over to a kitchen counter, sitting you up on it and standing right in between your open spread legs, placing the array of flowers opposite to the two of you. you bury your head in your hands, wanting to disappear from this moment and never return. 

“hey…” she gently prys your hands away from your head, and you immediately look up to contain tears, trying your hardest nor to hit the cabinets. “i'm sorry for just welcoming myself in, i assumed you didn't want the neighbors to see you…” the auburn haired girl uneasily babbles, and the tears slow down. you sniffle, looking down at the girl who can’t seem to slow her fast paced talking, and you're not sure how to quiet her down other than placing a hand over her mouth. 

instantly, the talking stops as she looks up at you confused, you sniffle once more and she grabs your hand again to remove it from her mouth 

“you were talking a lot,” you whisper “its okay that you came in, ellie.” your voice is silky, addicting. 

“i just-” she sighs, anxiously tapping the space outside your thighs and staring at her own hands “i don’t know how i can express just how sorry i am, i fucked up. Bad. and your hurting because of it” she spills, shes not even sure if it made sense as it left her mouth, but it’s honest. 

“ellie… it was always more than just a casual thing to me,” you admit, voice getting shallower by the second “and i mean, i don’t know, i always just assumed if i kept saying i was fine with it you would realize that i was who you wanted, but now i know it isn’t true.” ellie’s face drops upon hearing your words, alarms blare in her head because of course it was never just casual to her as well, she’s not even sure why she suggested it in the first place or kept reinforcing it when she wanted everything but that. 

“i know,” she starts off with, you look down sadly, this was confirmation she didn't want to see you anymore, that you getting attached had ruined everything and there was no saving whatever you two had. “but,” she continues, you look up at her again, confused. “It was never just casual to me as well, you know? i’m not even sure why i suggested it in the first place.” she lets out a brief chuckle at the last part in hopes of clearing some of the tension around you guys. 

“but you-” 

“i know i always reminded you, i think it was because i was scared? i was so… infatuated with you and i guess i didn’t want to hurt you. i thought it was the only way.” she remorsefully confesses, and you smile, roles reversed as you gracefully grab her face and kiss her. a kiss that says everything. 

it's soft, gentle, show’s no urgency or panic. it’s natural, and ellie can feel you smiling into it, as is she. 

gently, she moves away and starts kissing down your neck, you lock your hands into her auburn and let out a sigh of content. 

“ellie…” you needily whisper. 

“yeah, baby?” she removes her mouth from your neck, grabbing your thighs and looking into your eyes. “this okay?”

“more than okay,” you confirm, “do you wanna shower with me?” your request is simple, but it makes ellie’s heart explode with excitement as she lifts you off the counter and begins to carry you over to the very familiar shower, the short walk is full of quick kisses and giggles bouncing off the walls when you finally arrive and she nearly stumbles over her own feet. 

you're quick to discard your own clothes, the anticipation building to feel ellie’s skin on your own, the girls anticipation matching yours as she hastily removes her own clothing. Flowers and bra forgotten in the kitchen when she pulls your body into the shower with her, capturing you into a needy kiss once more. she reaches behind you to turn the water on, not accounting for the fact it'll take a minute to warm up and allowing the freezing stream to harshly hit your back. you yelp, moving away quickly in shock, hearing ellie’s restrained snort from behind you. turning to face her, you slap her bicep playfully when the water begins to feel warmer 

“ellie!” you playfully scold, “that wasn't funny!” you’re trying to be serious, key word: trying, but you cant help to let your own laugh slip past your mouth as you join her in the fun. 

“‘m sorry!” she giggles, the laughter between you two dying down “i didn't think it would be that cold!” 

“yeah, well, obviously!” you attempt to splash her with the little bit of remaining cold water on your hands, but you're not quick enough. she pins your hands above your head against the wall adjacent to the stream of water, the glass becoming foggy with steam from the nearly boiling water. 

silence falls in between the two of you. no words are spoken as you move forwards wanting a kiss from the girl, but she moves back. deja vu spikes within you from that night at the bar, days before everything went down. 

she closes her eyes, leaning closer and pressing her forehead up against yours. You repeat the action, you weren't sure what she was doing, but you trusted her. 

“let’s take this slow, okay?” she utters softly, just loud enough so you could hear her over the sound of water pouring, you nod instantly. slow was good. slow meant effort.

with your agreement, she locks your lips into a kiss once again. it wasn't hasty or rough, it was soothing and steady, releasing your arms in order for her to move her own to rest on your hips, your own reaching towards her neck. 

the kiss continuous for a couple minutes, only letting go for a couple seconds at a time to catch your breaths before falling back into each other peacefully, but you were getting wetter and wetter, desperate for more than just kitten kisses on your neck, and you could tell ellie was getting wet too with her movements becoming more and more desperate and rough. 

discreetly, you slot your knee in between her legs while she's occupied with your neck. Almost immediately you can feel the grip she has on your hips become tighter, fingernails digging into the flesh as you slowly begin to move your knee, she groans, dropping her head into your shoulder, moving her hips to match the rhythm with your knee. 

“faster, please” she whimpers in your neck, busying herself again by leaving wet open mouthed kisses on your neck once more. who were you to deny such a pretty girl's request? you speed up the movement of your knee, nudging it up every now and again, removing a hand from her neck to reach down and slowly rub her clit. 

from the way she sucked harder on that spot just below your ear she knew you loved, you assumed the sensation was taken well, your own wetness starting to drip down your thighs, mixing with the water from the muffled noises she was making alone. eventually, the stimulation caught up to her, legs becoming shaky, speeding up your movements and circling her clit, forcefully removing her mouth from your neck so you could bring your head down and suck on her left nipple, and that was her tipping point. 

ellie came undone on your leg with a strangled shout of your name, legs shaking and thighs hurting as you slowed down the circles on her now sensitive nub before eventually stopping, removing the knee slotted between her legs as well as your mouth from her tit. 

“you okay?” you whisper, giving her a couple seconds to come down from her high, the water providing a warm comfort over the two of you. 

“yeah,” she breathes, coming up to give you a kiss on the lips, again, and again, making a wet noise each time, only further fueling your need for her. “more than okay, thank you.”

you smile at her, happy that she was satisfied with your work. you clench your thighs together in hopes to relieve some of the tension that had built up in your core, a move that did not go unnoticed by the dripping girl in front of you. 

“but now i think i need to take care of you, hm? would you like that?” you quickly nod your head yes, anxious to feel her touch on you once more. 

she doesn't wait to get to work on your body, lips going down to suck one of your boobs while her hand moves to roll the sensitive bud in between her fingers, almost instantly eliciting a moan from you.

quietly, she moves her hand that was previously rolling your nipple down your wet body to your core. you open your legs, she keeps her mouth on your boob, but teasing your folds as she ran her fingers through them and pinching your clit ever so slightly, causing you to squel. 

“ellie.. please…” you almost beg, desperate to feel her skilled fingers inside you already.

she presses her palm flat against your clit, ignoring your begs but making you jerk back into the ceramic wall as a small whimper falls from your mouth, ellie smirks knowing just how much of an effect she had on you. she wasn't leaving you ever again. 

lazily, she slips her middle finger into your hole, removing her mouth from your tit. the shower and your own slick providing enough lube that she didn't even have to prod at it. 

“jesus babe… you're so tight” you clench around her finger at these words, and she mindlessly adds a second one. your hands move from her neck to the steaming glass beside you, indenting your handprint through the fog as you lose control over your own body's movements. 

gradually, she begins pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, lewd and shameless moans leaving your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. she moves her thumb to your clit, pushing into it and causing as much pressure as possible, and it's not long before you cum with a yell of her name, babbling nonsense as she guides you through it. head in her neck as is hers in yours. 

“‘m so sorry” ellie continuously repeats as her fingers still work at a relentless pace inside you “i'm so so sorry, ill never do that to you again.” she moves up and bites your earlobe, continuing to pilot you through your orgasm before halting her movements completely and removing herself from your body. 

you lean back against the wall, eyes closed in content as you feel the droplets of water hit your skin, your water bill is gonna be so fucking high this month, all ellie does it look at you. admiring you in this post fucked out state. you reach your hand out, a silent request for her to take it and she does, right after turning off the stream for you. 

“that was… amazing.” you breathe out happily, she beams at the peaceful look on your face as you peel your eyes open, ellie's smile making you crack your own. 

“i'm glad,” she kisses you once more, the two of you smiling into it. 

“we’re okay?” she asks 

“we’re okay.” you confirm, and ellie has never been happier 

“how about we continue this in the bedroom?” ellie suggests, and you grab her instantly to lead her out. 

people who asked to be tagged: @a-little-bit-of-everybody ! @lmaoo-spiderman @macaroni676 @p4ison1vy @fatbootymuncher @elliessweetheart

[pigfacedbitch]

Let's Break Up (II)

summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.

word count : 0.5k

type : headcanons

pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez / Frank Zhang / Will Solace x Reader

warning/s : none

here is my masterlist! Part I is composed of Jason, Percy, and Nico.

Leo Valdez

"I don't love you anymore. I want to end this."

He will think it's joke but when the 'I'm kidding!' never comes, he tries not to make a big deal out of it.

Just chill and shrug like he was expecting it to happen.

"Oh well, if that's what you want."

He will overthink every situation where you acted suspicious; rejecting his affections, flirting with other guys— you know... signs of possible cheating or interest in other people?

Not that he doubts your loyalty but Leo's sense of inferiority can cloud his judgement; it's himself he is unsure of.

I'm not enough for her. There are better guys out there. I'm supposed to understand. Thoughts like that.

You better say it's a prank right away! Because once you let him go, he will probably cry and lock himself in Bunker 9.

You had to knock continuously on the metal door and sing like Anna in "Do You Wanna Buid A Snowman?" for Leo to get out.

"It's just a prank, love. I'm sorry."

He lets out quiet sobs when your eyes meet, but he's obviously relieved.

COMFORT HIM AND NEVER DO IT AGAIN.

Frank Zhang

"Listen, this relationship is not working out anymore. I want to break up."

Now, if you've watched the part in American Psycho where Patrick Batman breaks up with his fiancee then you'll be able to picture this.

Frank will cry, loudly at that. It will catch the attention of anyone nearby, embarassing you.

He won't hold back. No, no, no, my friend. There will be whining and any other loud noises any human in pain is possible of letting out.

Did you instantly think you are an idiot for doing this? Yes, sir! 😊😙

"Frank, quiet down!"

"Oh gods, (Y/N) doesn't love me anymore!"

"I do, it's just a prank!"

Stops immediately, dramatically wiping his tears with a smug look on his face. With your mouth agape, he walks away from you like an action star in a explosion movie scene.

"Next time you try to prank me, don't tell anyone beforehand!"

"...Damn it, Hazel!"

Will Solace

This lovely son of Apollo is always busy due to his medical duties in Camp Half Blood so he truly cherishes the short moments he gets to spend with you.

In other words? Don't fucking waste his time.

"Will, I think we should break up."

He had encountered many campers pretend sickness for various of reasons— wanting to escape cleaning duties, skip training, and many more.

He will see through your lie. He always does.

If you decided to pull this prank AFTER he got to rest from the infirmary, he will just give you the don't-try-me-bitch look.

If you picked BEFORE he got to rest, you're dead. Expect him to throw medical tools at you.

Don't worry, not sharp ones. Just the scabs, cotton balls, and such.

It can be annoying though, not mention the scolding Chiron will give you later for wasting inventory materials.

"Will, stop it!"

"Take it back!"

"Sorry, it was just a joke."

The man very tired, okay? Stop with the nonsense and just cuddle with him. The gods know he desperately needs it.

[auteurdelabre]

A LITTLE SUN - SERIES FINALE

rating: 18+

tags: None. No spoilers in my finales!

summary: It's go time.

a/n: Y'ALL. Who knew this ATTEMPTED ONE-SHOT would end up being this fuckin' long and make me fall even deeper in love with the amazing trash panda/rat king Dieter Bravo? It was a labor of love, that's for sure (see what I did there? heh heh). I should note, your girl's never had a baby and I'm pretty sure a bunch of the shit here is inaccurate and borderline unsafe. OH WELL. This is a Hollywood romance type story so suspend your disbelief, k?

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MEAN YOU LIKE ME AND THAT MAKES ME WANNA KEEP WRITING.

[ ppppsssssstttttt if you wanna be nice and send a broke writer some cash because you like her writing and her stories and they made you happy, the paypal addy is auteurdelabre@gmail.com because ko-fi is givin me a headache. ]

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

"This can't be happening," you say in the passenger seat as Dieter speeds you both towards the hospital. "He's not due for another week."

"He's a Bravo," Dieter tells you in a tight voice. "Bravo's never fucking do what they're supposed to. It's part of our charm."

You let out an agonized wail as he speeds around the corner, holding your belly as you lurch back. He spins down the highway, honking at passersby. When half the vehicle ends up on the highway you shout at him to drive normally. 

When you settle, Dieter presses a button in his dash and your mom's number comes up. You hear a phone ringing in the car and then your mother's voice soft on the other end. There are hospital noises in the background, she’s at work.

"Hello Didi-"

"Hey Mimi," he says breathlessly interrupting her. "It's go time. Our girl's water broke."

"Oh my goodness," you can hear your mother flapping around in excitement. "I'll be there! I just have to get someone to cover my shift! Oh he’s early! I’ll see you soon, loves!"

"See you soon."

The call ends and you're left staring at the man intently focused on driving. 

"Did you just call my mother Mimi?"

"Yeah," Dieter says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's my nickname for her."

Didi and Mimi? What the fuck? How did he get Mimi? 

Before you can question their weird interaction further your hands grip around your middle, the strange stabbing sensation increasing with every mile that passes between the house and the hospital. 

Thankfully Dieter gets you there quickly, pulling into the hospital's ambulance lane helping you out of the car. 

"You can't park there," a man shouts after the two of you. Dieter gives him the finger before helping you onto the sidewalk. You can barely move and you double over, hissing before you can reach the doors. When you are able to right yourself again Dieter is there with a wheelchair he urges you back into. 

 "Dieter where did you get this?"

"Some old guy smoking on a bench."

"Dieter!"

"Relax," Dieter insists as he rolls you to the front desk. "He won't miss it."

Dieter feels like he's vibrating. After that emotional decree to you he was certain you'd been striding towards him before you doubled over in pain. But now he's not certain. As he follows the nurse now wheeling you to the private suite he's wondering if it was just wishful thinking. 

But he doesn't have time to worry about that right now. You're whimpering in pain, one hand over your belly, the other groping the air next to you. 

"Are you Dieter Bravo?"

A voice sounds out beside him but he ignores it.

"Can I get your picture?"

"Why are you here?"

He ignores them all, rushing to the side and grabbing your hand as they wheel you into the large private suite. 

The space is beautiful if not sterile. Nurses file in, helping you into a pale pink robe before urging you back into the hospital bed. 

Dieter steps back to give the medical staff room but it hurts him to be even this far from you. Your feet go in the stirrups and Dieter feels his heart crack. You look so tired, so scared there in the hospital bed.

"You gotta be gowned up, Dad," a nurse says helping Dieter into a blue gown. A hairnet is forced over his unruly locks and a mask over his face. He feels like he's getting ready for another part in a movie, dressing in costume. 

Nurses crowd around you, taking your temperature, urging a device onto your finger. There's chattering, movement like some strange ballet. 

"She's already nine centimetres."

"Call Doctor March in." 

"Dieter!"

Your voice cuts through the overlapping chatter. He moves through the throng, going to your side, ignoring the huffs of irritated medical staff. You gaze up at him through watery eyes and Dieter feels a swell of indignation rise as he watches you squirm in pain. 

“Where’s the fucking drugs?”

“It’s too late for an epidural,” the nurse tells you both cringing. “She’s too far along. I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck? I can’t do it without drugs! I can’t do this!” Your eyes are wide and terrified. You glance up at Dieter. “It’s going to hurt! Don’t make me do this!”

“You can do this,” Dieter insists, his thumb rubbing your palm soothingly. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You could do this in your sleep.”

"I can't do this," you whimper, terrified of what's about to happen. 

What if something goes wrong? You've read about losing blood about emergency C-sections. 

"You can," Dieter says, eyes big and beautiful. He cups your face in his large palms. "You've got this."

"No, I can't," you insist, eyes watery. "I... I'm not strong enough."

"Baby, that's not true. Who got me on SNL after my DUI even after they turned me down twice?”

“Me.”

“And who got me out of my contract for Hot Ones when I found out the chicken wasn’t organic?”

“M-me,” you cringe as a stab of pain goes through you. You can feel the nurse probing to see how far along you are, but all you can focus on is Dieter’s face in front of yours.  

“And who wrangled me out of Russia with only a fake passport and a bad accent?”

“Me!”

“That’s right,” Dieter insists, his voice proud. “You don’t take shit from anybody, baby.”

The doctor swans in, a serious looking woman who spares a brief smile for you and Dieter as she reads your chart. 

"Hi Mom and Dad, I'm Doctor March and I'll be delivering your son today." 

You both give her a weak greeting before she sits on the rolling stool between your parted legs. Dieter isn't looking there though. His eyes are fixed firmly on your face. Your head is tossed back, your forehead damp with sweat. 

"Alright Mom, you're ten centimetres so I'm gonna need you to start pushing." 

Dieter watches your face blanch and feels a chill go through him at the terror in your face. You look up at him, tears clinging to your lashes. 

Dieter doesn't even think. He toes off his shoes and crawls onto the hospital bed next to you. The nearest nurse shouts at him from behind her mask, hand reaching for him. 

"Sir, you are not allowed in the bed-"

"I'm staying," Dieter snarls settling in behind you. His long legs go to either side of you, bracketing your body. You lean back against him, relief flooding you at his nearness. 

"Sir, I'll call security-"

"Just let him stay!" You cry out. "Please!" 

All of a sudden a pain rips through you, causing you to jerk back against Dieter's chest and give out a sharp shriek. 

"Baby's coming," the doctor says irritably. "Nurse, I need you here."

The woman scowls at Dieter from behind her mask. The staff begins talking to one another and everything feels like it's happening too quickly. 

"Alright Mom, gonna need you to push."

Your fingers dig into Dieters thigh. You feel like the lights are too bright and the room is too cold and the entire thing is just too… scary. You're brows pinch together in anxiety. 

"C'mon baby mama," Dieter urges at your temple. "This is all you. You can do it."

You try your hardest, gritting your teeth and trying to push with all your might. But you can't do it. There's too much noise and chaos and the only thing that's keeping you grounded is the warmth of Dieter behind you. 

Dieter feels your trembling body and wishes more than anything that he could calm you with his touch alone. Dr. March is calling things out to you but all Dieter can focus on is the way your eyes are darting around the room, the way your body feels trembling against him.

"S'too much," you groan. "Can't do it."

"You are," Dieter insists, his hand over yours braced on his thigh. "C'mon, I know you can keep going. You're so fucking strong." 

"I can't," you weep, your body aching and breathing shallow. "I can't-"

"Who chased me down to the Chateau Marmont and snuck into a celebrity party just so she could return a watch to Cartier?"

"M-me," you groan as another ripple of pain goes through you. Dieter sees the doctor leaning forward, disappearing under your gown. 

"And who threw me into a shower to get sober for an interview on her first day?"

"Me." 

"That’s right,” Dieter smiles, recalling your first introduction to one another. “Know why? Because you don't take shit from anyone and you're not starting now. You show that baby who’s in charge.”

Something in his voice gives you resolve. You nod, hands going to his knees and bracing. You tilt back as you push, head falling on Dieter's shoulder. 

"Push," the doctor commands again calmly. 

This goes on for what feels like forever. You straining, pushing and crying out in pain as Dieter cradles you between his legs, ensuring how good you’re doing. 

"Good job, good job," doctor March encourages. 

“That's my girl," Dieter murmurs proudly in your ear. It makes you want to sob.

"One more big push," doctor March says. 

You're exhausted and shaky and you don't want to do this. It wasn't supposed to be today. You had a week. You planned it out. This is all too soon. 

"No more," you groan, sweat beading along your forehead. You don't want to let go of your son. Not yet. 

It feels unnatural to have carried him so long just to be removed from your body this way. He feels like a part of you, like was always meant to nestle under your ribs. It's like removing your own heart. 

Dieter lowers his mask and pushes back the sweaty hair from your face, replacing it with a sweet kiss. 

"C'mon baby," Dieter insists, his voice a rasp in your ear. "He's almost here. Our son's almost here."

Our son. Yours and Dieter's. 

Despite the frenzy of the moment your eyes drift from the doctors head between your legs up to Dieter. 

"Our son," you echo weakly. 

He's staring down at you, dark eyes so full of adoration. He's nodding, smiling gently at you. 

"Our little boy," Dieter says, kissing your damp cheek. "And we're so close to meeting him baby; you just gotta push one more time. Can you do it for me? For him?" 

Yes. You can.

You give out an animalistic growl that turns into a shriek. Dieter continues to hold your arms, murmuring that you're so brave, so beautiful. 

"Holy shit I can see hair," Dieter whispers against your cheek, peering over your belly to see as the doctor encourages your son forward. 

You give one last guttural scream, arching in Dieter’s arms before you feel that stinging between your legs settle. And then the most beautiful sound in the world - the tremoring wail of your sons first breath. 

"It's him. He's here."

There is awe there in Dieter’s voice, his eyes wide as he watches the moment his son is pulled from you. Feels his heart constrict as this tiny boy gives out a shuddering cry for the very first time. 

Dieter laughs through tears as he watches his son, gold and puffy emerge, his smile dropping as he views patches of white creamy something over his body. 

"Wait, what the fuck is that?" Dieter all but shouts. For a horrible moment he's terrified that it's from him fucking you so deeply last night. 

"Vernix caseosa," the nurse says with laughter in her voice despite everything. "Protects him from the amniotic fluid in the womb."

Dieter sighs in relief as the squirming baby is pressed to your bare chest for skin-to-skin contact. Your chest is exposed but for once Dieter isn’t horny. He’s just struck dumb at the sight of this small creature nestling there against your body.

"Hi little boy."

Your son lifts his head shakily, eyes blinking slowly, blurrily trying to take you in. He knows your voice, his face instinctually tilting in your direction. Dieter gazes down at you, tears spilling over his cheeks as he sees the love so clear in your gaze.

"It's you," you whisper down at the cherub-like face of your son.

I'd know you anywhere.

Because you would. You don't know how but the second you see his chubby cheeks and long lashes you just know exactly who he is. You would have known him anywhere. He's a part of you.  He's been a part of you so long it's surreal to see him outside, here against your skin on this side.  

"Look at all his hair," Dieter marvels. "You were right."

He's tiny with long legs and a thick head of dark curls. His skin is a golden color and his fingers long like his dad’s. He’s got your ears and your toes though, and the sight makes you feel strangely giddy. That’s you in this little body, a small piece of you.

The doctor and nurses murmur at your feet, and you feel relief when one says "all good". No emergency blood loss, no anything. The sound of a pager goes off and doctor March stands. 

"Got another delivery down the hall. Must be a full moon or something. Congrats mom and dad!" 

"Thank you, Doctor March."

The doctor and most of the nurses file out of the room; leaving only two nurses standing beside the bed making notes on a clipboard before one gently removes your son from your chest. You give a little whimper of protest, eyes going wide. 

"Just gonna weigh him and we'll bring him right back, Mom." 

You watch them leave, already feeling incomplete without him there against you. You feel tears welling at your lash line. 

"He's perfect," you say through hiccups.

 You feel as Dieter shifts behind you, gingerly removing himself from the bed. He makes sure to do so slowly, ensuring you're propped up comfortably for when they bring your squirming newborn back.

"You did such a good job, baby," Dieter says, kissing your temple before his attention is drawn back to his son being weighed and measured. "Can't believe he's finally here."

You both watch as your son squirms and grunts during his examination, smiling gently when they lift him up and the tall one announces:  "Seven pounds, three ounces and twenty one inches."

Dieter holds back his desire to make a dick joke.

The nurse holds your son clad in a tiny diaper. He looks so tiny in her hands. She prepares to hand him back to you but Dieter looks strangely animated, reaching into your go-bag bag next to the bed. 

"Oh shit, I almost forgot. Petra made him this."

It's a tiny blue knitted hat. Both the nurses give girlish awwwww's at the sight of it. One gingerly puts it on your sons head before smiling at you. 

"Okay Mom, let's do some more skin to skin and see if he'll eat in a little bit." 

Mom. Mom. Mom. You’re a mom.

You're already nodding, arms outstretched. It feels wrong not to have him against you right now. The nurses help to wrap the robe you're wearing around him, almost like a swaddle. 

You breathe slowly, taking in every second of this moment. He's so fucking small and his eyebrows are so tiny. Everything is just so little.

His mouth smacks together, grunting as his pink lips strain towards your nipple when they place him on your chest. 

"Like father like son," you murmur to Dieter, so quiet only he can hear. He gives a loud chuckle and his son makes a small hiccupping sound in surprise. Dieter’s long fingers trace down his son’s back, marveling at the softness of his skin.

"I'm a Dad," Dieter murmurs, as if it's just hitting him now. His eyes slowly travel over to you, your gaze locked on the squirming infant on your chest. "And you're a mom." 

"I'm a mom," you whisper and it feels right when you say it. 

You were always his mom, from the moment he began to grow in your womb. You were mom. He'd known it long before you had. The kicks and the flutters. He knew you were his and tried to remind you at every turn.  

"Thank you," Dieter whispers, eyes damp. "Thank you for bringing him to me." 

"Thank you for helping me make him," you whisper back, the hot tears staining your cheeks. "Fuck, I feel like all I've done lately is cry."

Dieter and you share a laugh while the nurses call out that they'll be back to check on you three in a little while, pointing out the call button beside your bed if there's an issue. 

They close the door to the suite behind them and suddenly the room is quiet, save for the sound of your son grunting against your chest as he gets comfortable. 

"I want to be his mom."

"You are," Dieter says with a smile as he grabs the chair next to the hospital bed, his large palm resting on his son's back lightly when he settles back. 

"No I mean... I want to be in his life. I want to see him every day. I want to help raise him."

You see the way Dieter’s body jerks as if he's been slapped. He stares over at you, eyes wide. 

"You do?"

"Yeah," you sniffle. "Is that okay?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dieter is leaning over you gently, kissing you so soundly you whimper. 

He pulls back, but not before giving a gentle kiss to the top of his sons head. 

His eyes search yours, the sweet chestnut color softening the longer he looks at you. He brushes the hair from your face, thumb lingering on your jaw. 

"That's all I've ever wanted."

The sincerity is there in both his expression and his husky voice. He means it. And suddenly guilt is the emotion that overtakes you, almost surging through your veins. 

"I feel so guilty," you say, overcome with emotion. Your son makes a little squeaking noise before settling. 

“Why, baby?”

“Because I closed myself off to everyone. Even him.”

How could you have ever thought of giving your son away? How could you have imagined he was nothing but cargo to be bartered? You kiss the top of his head, hoping that a lifetime of love will make up for months of apathy. 

"I think losing my dad just made me so scared of loving someone else," you sniffle, kissing your son's downy head. "I mean my dad was a part of me. And now-"

You look down at your newborn son. The scrunch of his face as he yawns and you think that you've never seen anything quite as beautiful before. 

"He's a part of me," you say softly. The tears fall down your cheeks without effort. "And he's the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

Dieter gazes down at his son. "He really is." 

"I thought if I could just separate my feelings I could do it, you know? I could walk away unhurt. But then..."

You break off, but Dieter is riveted. "Then what?" 

Your eyes blink furiously. 

"That day I saw him for the first time I knew I couldn't walk away. I knew it. But I told myself I had to. That I couldn't stay attached."

This hurts Dieter. Knowing that it was months of this personal torture hurts him in a way that makes him breathless. 

"Why, baby?"

"Because losing something you love breaks you. It takes a piece from you that never comes back." You rock your son gently. "And I've never loved anything as much as him. Even before he was here."

You’re trying in vain to hold the sobs back now. Your son makes a frowning face, lips smacking together once more before you falls back into his drowsy slumber. 

"And I'm scared," you whisper. "Terrified, actually."

Dieter suddenly understands it all. The loss of you father, your inability to cope, your need for control and order. He sees how this challenged all of it and his heart shatters. Dieter runs his hands through your hair, pressing kisses to your cheek as he gently soothes you. You're crying, eyes squeezed shut. 

"It's okay to be scared," Dieter murmurs against your ear. "I'm scared too."

You're exhausted and sore and emotionally wrung out. But that doesn't stop you from smiling gently up at him, hand going to brush the tears clinging to his lashes. 

Soon the emotional and physical exhaustion comes in, lulling you into a slow slumber. Dieter watches the two loves of his life sleeping, both making the same little nose scrunches in their sleep. He sees so much of you in his son, the curve of his ears, the full of his upper lip. It makes him feel warm and contented. 

You haven't confessed any long standing love for Dieter, but now that his son is here and you want to be a part of his life it doesn't matter. You'll be near him and that's enough for Dieter, even if that's all he can have. You'll be the most amazing mother and he'll support you any way he can. Of course it's been a draining day and he feels his emotions spinning off in all directions, but with a rosy hue of compassion.

Of course it hurts that you likely don't feel the same for him.

Images of Dieter and a toddler son dressed in suits dance across his exhausted mind. You under an arch in a wedding dress, leaning down with a smile and arms open as you son toddles down the aisle towards you. You marrying someone else, but with Dieter's support. Dieter doesn't look forward to the day you find your future husband, but he'll support it.  

Love always felt selfish for Dieter. A way of staking claim: mine. But this love feels different. He just wants you happy. That's good enough for him. 

One of the nurses comes back a short while later and you're still dozing with your son sleeping on your chest. One of the nurses pushes in a bassinet on wheels. 

"Gonna put him in this so Mom can get some real rest," one of the nurses tells Dieter in a hush. "Do we have a name yet, Dad?"

"No, not yet," Dieter whispers back. "Can I put him in it?"

"Of course," the nurse says happily. "You know the correct hold?"

She shows him how to correctly hold the newborn supporting his neck and his spine. Then she leaves giving him a quiet congratulations. 

Dieter looks down into his arms, rocking the small child - his son - gingerly as he begins to blubber. The tears slide down his nose and one lands on his son's bare belly. He twitches in his sleep before yawning and blinking up at Dieter. 

And he feels it pass between them, this ancient sensation of home, of lineage, of love. Dieter thinks of his own father and his ambivalence. He can't understand how he could have ever walked away from his own creation. He stops crying long enough to see his son give a flash of a smile and then fall promptly back to sleep. 

"You have your whole life ahead of you," Dieter tells his son, going to stand at the window, looking out into the sunshine filled day. "This world is just yours to conquer. Me and your Mama are gonna be there every step of the way." 

You stir in the bed when you hear Dieter’s gentle rasp from the other side of the room. Your eyes flutter open to see him holding your son by the window, rocking him. 

"Gonna give you everything I didn't have, gonna spend time with you and play catch and all that good dad shit."

You giggle gently at this, drawing Dieters attention your way. 

"Did I wake you?"

You shake your head, watching with adoration as the man you love comes walking back with your son. You think Dieter has never been as perfect or as beautiful to you as when he’s holding your son safely in his broad arms.

"He needs a name," you murmur, watching your dozing child. "Where's your list?"

"Up here," Dieter says tapping his temple with his free hand before looking down at the slumbering infant in his arms. "But... Now that I see him, none of ‘em fit."

"Hmmmm," you purse your lips in thought, watching as Dieter carefully places him in the bassinet. The two of you lean over, watching your son in mild awe. A thought occurs to you.

"My mom doesn't know what room we're in."

"Oh I already texted her," Dieter says. "She's stuck in fucking LA traffic of course. She should be here soon. Lemme check.”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out and dropping his keys in the process. He picks them up and the keychain makes a soft clinking noise. The baby stirs in the bassinet, kicking out his tiny legs and tilting his head in the direction of the keys.

Dieter grins, holding them above his son.  You see the green Jameson bottle from Ireland hanging off of it.  You both look on as your tiny son’s fists tap against the enamel item, sending it spinning.

“He’s got good taste,” Dieter grins. “I’ll have to take him when he’s older.”

“Much older,” you say with mock warning.

The keychain spins again as the baby attempts to grip it with his tiny fingers. But he can’t, it’s much too early for that kind of coordination. The name of the brewery glints in the light and then like a flash you both meet eyes over the bassinet.

"Jameson." Dieter breathes with a crooked grin. "James."

"James Bravo.”

The two of you smile so widely your faces might break.

“I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s perfect. Hello James.”

Dieter and you gaze down at your son who’s now grown still, sleeping deeply.

“Now we just need a middle name," you say quietly as the two of you sit staring at him. 

"What was your dad's name again?" Dieter asks quietly after a beat. "Michael, right?"

You slowly gaze up the length of Dieter, seeing the soft way he's looking at the baby and then over at you. Something swells behind your sternum. 

"Yeah, Michael." 

"That's a nice name," Dieter nods before smiling down at the squirming infant. "A good middle name for our son." 

Our son. 

Affection hits you like a ton of bricks in that moment. The fact that he remembered your dad's name. The way he calls Jameson your son as much as he is his own. The way he loves you so fucking ardently, the way he wanted to take care of you even if you didn’t feel the same as he did.

You think of this past year with Dieter, all the ways he showed her loved you, the way he protected you. You think of nights in his arms, laughing with him and the way you don't want to be without him anymore. You stare up at him from the bed, taking in the sleepy edge of his eyes, the tussled hair, the full mouth. He's fucking beautiful. How did you miss it this long? 

You don't want anyone else. You just want him. 

"Will you marry me?" you whisper without thought. 

Dieter blinks over at you, eyes rounding and for a moment you tense. He's made it clear that he cares for you but maybe this is too much too fast. You haven’t exactly been forward with how you feel about him until now.  

"You wanna marry me?"

"Yeah," you say smiling dopily up at him. "I do." 

Dieter lets out a little sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp and before you can say anything more his broad palms are on either side of your face, holding you there so that he can kiss you soundly before pulling back, looking concerned. 

"Might be the drugs," he worries. 

"No drugs remember?"

"Might be post birth delirium." 

"I don't think that's it," you assure him, thumb stroking the patch in his beard that doesn't grow. "Might be because I've never had someone care for me like you do. Might be because I don't want to be apart from you or our son. Might be because I'm madly in love with you and have been for a while now. Might be because I’ve never loved someone the way I love you."

Dieter feels like his heart is expanding so rapidly it might crack his ribcage. Seeing you there in the bed with your hair disheveled, your face flushed and your eyes starry and soft as you gaze up at him, Dieter feels an almost incapacitating sensation of adoration for you. 

You're so rarely soft with anyone. Because of this he knows what you've admitted is monumental for so many reasons. Tears spring to his eyes, and his smile is watery. 

You picked him. You want him.

He clamors into the bed next to you again, pulling you into his arms gingerly. His mouth is pressing against yours again, wet eyes squeezed shut. He holds you with the kind of care and affection he has always shown you.

"Fuck yes I'll marry you," he whispers against your lips.

You giggle against his mouth when he kisses you again and the sound hits him everywhere.

"I want you to come home with our son as my wife and I want to make you two the happiest people alive."

He melts against you as your arms wrap around his neck, fingers trailing in the curls at the base of his skull. 

"I love you, Dieter."

He whispers his love for you against your neck, rocking you. You let him kiss you slowly, mouths moving languidly. You sigh as he dabs his tongue against yours before he abruptly pulls back.

He pushes back from the bed, gaze suddenly distracted. It startles you. 

"Diet-"

Before you can even finish his name he's taken off, his crocs slapping against the hospital floor. Then it’s just you and James in the suite, shaking your head with a laugh.

"What is your dad up to?" You ask the sleepy baby in the bassinet. You turn back to face the doorway, heart leaping when you recognize a woman in scrubs strolling by. 

"Mom!" 

Your Mom is already sobbing when she runs into the room and you expect her to make a run directly for the baby. But instead she’s going to you, holding your face in her hands and kissing your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, the fucking traffic-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “Dieter was and he was wonderful.”

“He’s early,” she comments, eyes flitting to the bassinet before going back to you.

"Just like his dad, he has a flair for the dramatic," you grin. "Couldn't wait until his due date." 

“How are you feeling?”

“Good Mom, I promise,” you say, smirking at her frazzled expression. Your mother takes a deep breath, nodding. She shrugs off her jacket before going to scrub her hands in the sink. She comes back over to you, her eyes wet.

“I’m so proud of you. Your dad would be too.”

You let the tears fall again, accepting that this is just what you do now, you cry all the fucking time. Your mother stands next to the bed, holding you around the shoulders and rocking you like she did when you were little. You cry into her shoulder, overwhelmed and hormonal.

“So do you want to meet my son?” you ask sniffling.

Your mother’s eyes alight to the bassinet before drawing back to you.

“Your son?”

“My son,” you confirm, chin wobbling. “Your grandson. Jameson Michael Bravo. James for short.”

And now your Mom bursts into tears, thick fat ones that pour down her cheeks. And you know she’s not crying for James, or for the beauty of this birth. She sniffles heavily before going over to the bassinet. She sees Jameson's shock of dark hair and you watch her melt.

"Oh he's beautiful."

“You might be a bit biased.”

"I am," she laughs. 

The two of you are still laughing when Dieter returns to the room slightly out of breath, a young man in tow. When he sees your mother he waves and pulls her into a tight hug. You watch the two of them embrace, still shocked at their closeness.

"Mimi! Perfect, we need a witness."

You realize now that the young man Dieter urges over to your bed is wearing a collar and holding a bible.  

"Dieter, why have you brought a priest here?" 

"He just gave last rites to some guy on the other floor," Dieter explains with a wide beaming grin. "I told him about you and me and he said he'd be happy to perform the ceremony right now." 

Dieter is absolutely lack of impulse control personified. 

You're about to answer when you hear the sound of your mother's voice.

"No, no, no," your mother tuts, shaking her head. "You are not getting married in a hospital ten minutes after giving birth."

Dieter gives her imploring eyes. "But Mimi-"

"Didi, you and my daughter got pregnant, hid it, gave birth and are now engaged." Your mother lists these off with sharp clarity. "I beg of you, let me have my way with this. I only get to be mother of the bride once."

“Okay,” Dieter relents, understanding that perhaps this is a fair compromise.

He debates something for a moment before taking your right hand. The claddagh ring he bought you is tight thanks to the pregnancy, but it finally slips off. He slips it onto your left finger, heart facing out.

And so the wedding is postponed for six months.

(If you’re honest, you’re pretty relieved. Getting married wearing a sweaty hospital robe while your vagina healed wasn’t exactly your idea of a dream scenario.) It takes about that long to move all your things into Dieter’s place and to get life sort of under control.

Being together as a family of three is better than you could have ever imagined it. You’re both fucking exhausted and unwashed for the first few weeks, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it together.

Watching Dieter as a father makes you fall in love with him in a completely different way. Watching as he carries your son in his arms, gently swaying him after being fed. 

"He smells so good," he murmurs. 

Dieter is as much a parent as you are, insisting that you did the heavy lifting for the last nine months and that he should do his part. The first time he tells you this after changing and putting James back down at 2 am you suck Dieter’s cock so well he almost cries.

Your mother all but moved in the first three weeks insisting that you’d need her help. As much as you wanted to deny this, Dieter had been excitedly setting up the guest house for her before the offer was out of her mouth. Roach free.

You definitely get on each other’s nerves for the following months, tired and grouchy at times. Petra and Magda are there and like to give advice. Sometimes you take it; sometimes you and Dieter roll your eyes at one another.

But mostly you grin stupidly at each other and kiss like you’re in high school. You love kissing. He’s so sweet and gentle until he’s licking into your mouth and grinding against you on the couch.  Dieter doesn’t want to rush you into bed after the birth so it’s you two months post partum who tackles him during James’ nap time and rides him, telling him he’s “such a good Daddy.”

Dieter is in heaven. That’s the only way to describe it.

“I love you,” you murmur in the mornings when he brings you over a smoothie. He always kisses you slow and sweet before replying.  

“I love you too, baby.”

This love, this free flowing mutual adoration incapacitates him at times. It brings him to his knees knowing that his love is returned in equal measure. His phone is full of covert photos he’s taken of you with James. His favorite is the one of you passed out on the couch. You’re wearing only your panties and socks. Your hair is unkempt and James snuggles against you, both back lit by the early morning sun.

He wants to show everyone the photo, wants to tell everyone proudly that this is his son and soon-to-be-wife. But you’ve made it very clear that while Dieter is fine with the spotlight, your son will not be until he’s old enough to choose it.

He shares only one photo on his social media announcing the birth. One of Jameson’s left foot with the caption: He’s finally here.

Diane approved it.

You’re relaxing in the tufted chair in the nursery, feeding James when an alert comes through on your phone.

Bravo spotted looking at engagement rings.   

Oh right. You still have his name flagged for alerts.

You smile a little to yourself as you read the article about Dieter travelling all over California in search of the perfect ring. Your heart races even though you know very well that you're getting married shortly.

There's another alert ding on your phone and you see it's a text from Mia. 

[3:21pm] MIA: Congrats lovebirds. I knew he'd get his shit together eventually. So happy for you both. 

You grin widely.

You didn't expect to find such deep affection for Mia, but you can't help but love her. After all, without her you may never have truly faced how you felt about Dieter. And from the stories Dieter has told you over the last few months, Mia may have been instrumental in the two of you getting together in the first place. It’s what prompts you to reply with a photo of you and James snuggling.

[3:22pm] Any chance you feel like taking on the role of godmother?

You and Dieter had talked about it; he’d been worried you’d think it strange. But it hadn’t felt strange at all. It had felt somehow right that she be a part of James’ life.

[3:22pm] MIA: Thought you’d never ask.

The wedding is an intimate one of less than fifty people. Your dress is over the top and exactly the kind of thing that Dieter imagined you in. Your son is done up in the tiniest and most elaborate baby tuxedo you’ve ever seen. You both cry all the way through your vows as your mother sits with James in the front row, a picture of your father beside her.

The wedding takes place in a sweet little village in Chile where Dieter grew up.  It’s where his parents met and where his mother is buried. He has a few relatives there who insist on helping with everything.

Dieter isn’t expecting the emotions that come flooding back. Ones that take his breath away when he sees the photos of his mom still hung in his Aunt’s house. The ones of him missing teeth, arms around her and a look of absolute contentment in his youthful features.

“She would have loved you both so much,” he whispers as the two of you stare at them.  

“I know, baby.”

And just like when he took your hand and led you through that sea of paparazzi, you take his hand and do the same. You guide him through the first few days where he feels emotionally raw and strangely quiet. You lead him through the days of family reunion and wedding planning. And finally you take his hand and walk with him to the graveyard where his mother is buried.

He takes his son from you, kissing his tiny nose before kneeling in front of the tombstone. He places a hand on its marble surface and he lets the tears fall.

“Mama this is your grandson, James.”

Not long after you return home Dieter is called to do online press for a franchise he’s been signed on for. One that will keep him filming locally for the next couple of years. The interview is being streamed on Tiktok Live, much to your amusement as you watch from home, reclined with a sleeping James on your chest.  

Dieter sits in one of the chairs, looking remarkably handsome as the interviewer asks him questions from those that pop up in the comment section. The viewers at home would never have known he’d been covered in baby puke only hours before.

“Mr. Bravo thank you so much for coming out.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter smiles. You sigh at how handsome he is just existing. Your eyes draw down to the comment section that pops up, many of them causing you to giggle to yourself as you read them.

He’s so fucking hotttt Hit my line, Daddy, plz SPIT IN MY MOUTH Is he wearing a wedding ring??? I love his hair SHUT UP HE’S SO HOT. I’M EATING DRYWALL I have thots

“There’s a lot of frenzy from the comment section,” the interviewer says, shaking her blonde hair from her face and reading some of them out loud.

“User3766 wants to know: will you be wearing the cape that others have donned in the past for the same character?”

“Nah, I’m not a cape guy,” Dieter says shaking his head. “They seem a bit overdone.”

“That seems to be the consensus online,” the woman says with a nod and warm smile.

“GlitterPonyz asks: Why did you choose to be in this franchise after famously telling the world that after Cliff Beasts you were done with franchises altogether?”

“Because the filming takes place mostly around California which means I get to be home to my wife and son most nights,” Dieter says with a crooked grin. 

"So the rumors are true?" The interviewer asks.

"Yep," Dieter smiles with a slight blush to his cheeks. "She'd have been Mrs. Bravo a long time ago if she wasn't so damn stubborn."

At this he winks playfully at the camera before the interviewer dives into more questions. You can almost feel Diane rolling her eyes in frustration off-screen. 

"Dieter!" You groan with a pained laugh at your phone. 

So much for waiting to share the good news! At least your mother knew about this one before the rest of the world. 

Jameson stirs slightly in your arms, still sleepy and warm after swimming with auntie Madga and Petra all morning in the pool.  He smells like the coconut lotion you rubbed into his pudgy arms and face and you inhale, sighing.

You compose a text to Dieter.

[11:02am]:You said we were gonna keep it quiet! [11:02am]D: Couldn't help it. Wanted everyone to know you're all mine. 

You send a photo of Jameson that you took earlier. 

[11:03am]: He says he's worried he'll be fatherless once Diane gets through with you.  [11:03am]D: Nah. She told me she understood. [11:03am]: Really?  [11:04am]D:Yeah. Said that a child and a wife could only help my image. 

You laugh to yourself. You take another photo, this one of you and the baby in frame, you smiling up at him. 

[11:05am]: We miss you. Xo [11:05am]D: Can't wait till I get home to you both. Shouldn't be too much longer. Love you baby mama!!!!! [11:05am]: We'll be waiting for you, baby. Love you more Xo

Your mother comes in smiling and carrying a cup of lemonade for you. 

"So he couldn't keep it a secret," your mom says with an affectionate shake of her head as you tell her about the video.

 "Silly boy."

She says it with a mother's fondness. 

She takes Jameson from you, citing that she needs some time with her grandson as if she doesn’t already see him three times a week when she visits. You don’t mind at all.

Most of your days are taken up with James. Baby classes, hiking, swimming and more. Your education isn't going anywhere, but time with your son at this age is fleeting. You like that there's not that pressure to perform anymore. 

When you do return to your studies after Jameson’s’ first birthday it’s for your love of learning, not because of some pressure you’ve put on yourself. You do a course once a semester online, just to keep yourself sharp for when you decide you'll return full time. 

On days when you really have to study Dieter takes Jameson out to the park or for ice cream and you can hear him whispering "Shhh we have to be quiet so Mama can study and get even smarter!"

When you’re not doing that, you’re on the board for Dieter’s charity funding medical procedures in developing worlds. Something you find yourself so passionate about and as Dieter commented you spend his money well.

Award shows still have you on edge. The screaming and the flashbulbs always have you gripping Dieter, but he is always there with a hand at the small of your back, never letting you go. Sometimes if Dieter has to film overseas and you miss him even after hanging up with him, you watch old interviews or old movies with him in it. You can’t help but giggle every time you see him. When you watch The Rogue Heiress you giggle and send him off a photo of you pointing at the screen and winking. His response is immediate.

[9:07am]D: Missing your favorite sausage?

 “Bravo!” you say with a light chuckle.

“Bwavoh!" A tiny voice echoes behind you. 

Your son comes toddling towards you, his large eyes full of mischief just like his dad. His hair is your color, but it’s got those wild waves like his father. No matter how much you brush it, it’s still impossible to keep looking tidy.

"No, no baby," you say gathering your son into your arms and giggling. "That's Papa. See him?"

Jameson nods and claps at the screen where a serious looking Dieter frowns at his colleague.

 "Papa!"

Jameson is three when you and Dieter decide to renovate the main bedroom. Now that your Masters is done and your attention not as fixated on it you want something a little more ‘you’ in the space and Dieter is more than happy to oblige. He’d tear down the whole thing if you wanted to.

You’re both midway through pulling out things from the big closet when he hears your muffled shout from the back.

“What the fuck?"

Dieter looks up to see you laughing.

“Why do you have an old camcorder in here?"

"I used to use it for.... Adult sleepovers," Dieter tells you with a sly grin. "When we wanted to...immortalize the moment if you will."

"Oooo," you give him a flirty wink. "And when was the last memorable performance captured?"

Dieter squints his eyes as he folds a blanket, trying to recall. "Uh, some blonde guy I was seeing for a bit. Ryan something."

You're immediately taken back to the time you walked in on Dieter with the hot guy blonde man with his head between Dieter's legs. 

"Was he blonde with facial hair by any chance?"

"Uh, yeah," Dieter looks at you curiously. 

You feel your thighs clenching tightly together. Dieter doesn't miss this and a mischievous smile crosses his features.

"You wanna watch it, baby?"

"I mean, Jameson is at Grandma's all night" you say with a cheeky grin. "Why don't you go get this hooked up to the television while I pop some wine?"

"Sounds perfect."

“Oh my gosh we look so young!”

“It was only four years ago, Dieter.”

“Yeah, but look at my hair.”

“Ugh, look at mine.”

“I love it.”

Dieter pulls you tighter to him, practically onto his lap as you watch the two of you drunkenly move onscreen.

"My name is Dieter Bravo and this is my assistant," he slurs as he motions to your wobbling frame attempting to stand beside him. "And we're making this video because we're gonna make a baby together."

You tilt towards the camera, your eyes half closed. 

"And I want it on-on-on record," you stutter. "That I'm getting three hundred thousand dollars for this baby he's putting inside me right now."

You point to your stomach as Dieter nods blearily. 

"We're so fucking drunk," you say with a laugh as you and Dieter sip your wine. "It's a miracle we didn't pass out before we got to the bed." 

"I'm half convinced you picked it up from the toilet seat at this point, Christ. Did I just fall?"

You look back just in time to see Dieter tripping over himself onto the ground before jumping back up as if nothing happened. 

"Okay, let's make the baby now," Dieter says, taking your hand in his. 

"Okay!" You nod, walking with him towards the bed a few steps away. 

"Left the fucking camera on," you say with a roll of your eyes. "So dumb."

"Too excited to get to the good stuff to remember things like turning off cameras," Dieter grins, fingers trailing down your spine in the soothing way he knows you like. 

When you see Dieter sit on the edge of the bed and pull you into his lap you can't help but flush.

When he grabs your face and drags your mouth to his you're shocked to see how easily your arms wrap around his neck. This is further compounded by the obvious sight of your tongue slipping into his mouth, causing you both to groan onscreen. 

You and Dieter hold your breath as you watch the screen. Despite it being yourselves only a year ago it feels strangely voyeuristic to watch these two morons kiss sloppily on the bed.

Suddenly you pull back, cheeks flushed and panting. 

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah," Dieter nods, looking excited. "I love secrets. And I'm good at keeping them. No one knows that Hugh and Taron fucked the whole time on-"

Dieter pauses, looking concerned. 

"Oops, wasn't supposed to say."

You're only half paying attention because apparently undoing your strappy shoes is a struggle at this point. Dieter sees this and flops to the ground, tugging at them. You glance down at him with a smile when he finally unravels both. 

"Tada!"

You give an exaggerated clap at if what he's done is truly remarkable. Dieter shifts into the center of the bed.

"So what's the secret?"

"My secret is I have a crush on my boss," you say with a drunken giggle as you kick off your heels and crawl towards him. 

"Really?"

"Yeah." You draw your face to his. "But don't tell him."

You situate yourself on his lap, hips rolling against his. 

"Okay I won't," Dieter agrees, his mouth chasing yours before he suddenly stops, eyes wide. "Wait, I'm your boss!"

"Oh right," you say, pulling at your shirt and giggling. 

"Well well well," Dieter says from beside you on the couch his mouth on your ear. "Looks like someone had a crush on their boss the whole time."

Your cheeks burn as your drunken self makes this proclamation. You can’t stop watching as the two of your younger selves continue on.

You struggle with your bra for several moments as Dieter tugs off his clothes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

"Fuck you have nice tits," Dieter slurs as he leans back into the pillows.  

"Yeah? I like em," you say proudly cupping them, running your fingertips over them until they're hard little buds. "Wanna touch em?"

"With my mouth."

"Okay."

“Still got nice tits,” Dieter says, hand slipping up your t-shirt. You sigh, leaning back against him and feeling as his palm cups your breast.

You keen onscreen, head tilted back as Dieter licks and sucks at your nipples before Dieter pulls his mouth from you.

"I like you," Dieter says almost shyly as you sit in his lap. He's holding you there, naked and waiting and instead of fucking you, he's looking into your face, utterly entranced. "I've liked you for a long time."

Your drunken self obviously isn't one for heartfelt remarks because as Dieter admits this, you have a mischievous look in your face. 

" Do you touch yourself when you think of me?" You ask in a slur. It's not visible due to your positioning and the angle of the camera, but you can see that your hand goes to grip his cock and begin to stroke. 

"Yeah," Dieter whimpers, eyes on your hand and then back to your face. "All the time."

You grin, your hand pumping him quickly. Dieter's face goes slack, eyes half closed as he leans back on his hands. 

"Y-you gotta stop," Dieter grunts. "Or I'm gonna f-fuck, gonna come." 

Your drunk self shrugs at this before you raise yourself up only to slide down his twitching length all the way until your cunt is nestled in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. Immediately his arms are around you, holding you as your hips move against his. 

You sigh, head lolling forward as Dieter whimpers. 

"Wanted to fuck you for so long, Dieter."

Even in his drunken state, Dieter looks shocked at your murmured admission. 

"Yeah?”

"Yeah," you nod, wrists on his shoulders. "Ever since I saw you with the blonde man... I just .. oh fuck, right there... Fuck... Ever since I saw you with him I couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to ride your cock." 

"Fuck," Dieter groans, mouth kissing down your sternum. "You're riding it so well, baby."

"Wanted to bounce on it," you say breathlessly. 

Dieter makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

"Fuck, bounce on it," Dieter all but begs, gazing up at you face. "Bounce on it for me now." 

You do, sliding your feet to either side of his hips. You arch back, sliding up his glossy length before sinking down onto it. You do this several times and with each pass Dieters moans get louder. You tits jolt with every bounce.

You are not immune to Dieter's cock lengthening in his sweatpants under you. 

"You're so fucking big," you groan, hips rutting against his. 

"Keep talking," Dieter all but begs as he starts to fuck up into you. "Keep going, baby, I'm so fucking hard right now."

"Wanna do this all the time," you groan, arms behind your neck, stretching lazily above you, showcasing your body, your tits, your sensuality. 

"Fuck, you do?" Dieter pants, his hand going to caress your ass as you roll your hips. 

"Uh huh," you nod, your rhythm increasing as your arms go around his neck. "Wanna do this every night and then go out for pancakes."

"I love pancakes," Dieter enthuses. Your head moves towards his, eyes half open. 

"So we'll get pancakes?"

"Yes, baby," Dieter promises, mouth finding yours.

You give a satisfied hum as his arms go around you and he gently maneuvers you onto your back. He holds your hands on either side of your head, fingers laced as he gently sinks into you. 

He groans when he watches your head tilt back into the pillow, exposing your throat and your tits. 

"Dieter, it’s so fucking good," you groan as your head tilts back, eyes closed. "How do you feel so fucking good?"

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, eyes transfixed on your rolling breasts. 

His hips drive into you now, but it's slow and tender. Your thighs flex slowly around his middle. You're soaked, practically dripping onto his sheets. Your eyes are open, glossy and gazing up into his face.

"Never knew it could feel this good," you murmur up at him. 

"It doesn't usually," Dieter grins down at you. "You must have a magic pussy or something."

"Christ," Dieter mutters, holding a hand over his eyes in embarrassment. 

You've been hiding your face in your hands, humiliated at everything showing up on the screen. But at Dieter’s admission you can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Magic pussy, Dieter? Really?”

“I swear I’ve never used that term before.”

The two of you continue writhing slowly against one another on the screen for what feels like forever. The sounds of your kissing and your moans flooding the room.

"You close?" Dieter groans, tongue coming to lick your neck. 

"Uh huh," you nod, your hips starting to rut against his in earnest. Dieter still holds your hands pinned to the mattress as he drives himself up into you, his movements still slow and measured. 

"C'mon baby," he encourages. "I wanna feel it."

"Yes," you breathe, hips rolling against his. "Fuck yes, I-"

You've never watched yourself orgasm before. The sight isn't anything like porn. You don't make cute little faces or noises.

You arch almost violently, brows knitting together as you make a stuttering cry in the back of your throat. Dieter fucks you through it, eyes transfixed. 

"Fuck baby, yes, just like that. Oh fuck, come for me." 

You shudder around him, your voice cracked as you cry out his name. Dieter kisses his name from your lips before he begins to piston in and out of you, grunting your name before he too follows. His body shivers as he finally empties himself into you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, panting heavily and gazing into one another’s eyes. Then he dips his face to yours, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. He pulls slowly away from you, averting his eyes as you pull on your dress.

You roll onto your side, facing Dieter. Your arm goes around his neck, and to Dieter's obvious delight, you kiss him gently. Then you spin around, facing the camera once more with your eyes closed and a little smile on your face. 

"Goodnight," Dieter says, pulling your back against him. 

"Night," you reply back with a yawn, snuggling back into his embrace. 

The two of you lay like this for a moment and Dieter raises the remote, about to turn the video off when you hear his voice on the recording. 

"I hope we made a baby," Dieter murmurs, eyes closed.

You smile, hand going to cover Dieters at your waist. 

"Me too."

The tape continues on with the two of you sleeping. After a minute Dieter turns it off and the two of you lapse into a thoughtful silence. You’re still in his lap and you tilt your head to face him, seeing his eyes damp.

Your heart hiccups at the realization that you both wanted each other long before you could even understand it. Your mouth finds his, and it’s not long before the moment is heated, his hand crawling up your shirt again.

"Fuck baby, I need you," Dieter groans, tugging your panties off. He stops for a moment, hand groping in his sweatpants pockets for a condom.

“Don’t,” you say, hand coming to rest over his. “Let’s do it without.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a few months now, surprising even yourself. You thought you’d never want to be pregnant again, but thoughts of a dark-eyed girl with a dimple in her cheek have been there in your dreams as of late.

“Really?”

“Thought we could do it properly this time,” you tell him with a soft kiss, arms around his broad shoulders. “Baby showers, Lamaze classes, being in love at the same time and all that.”

You wait for his decision, nibbling at your lower lip. Dieter beams, holding you tightly to him and marveling that you’re here, still as in love with him as he is with you. He kisses you sweetly, mouth curled into a smile.

“I mean it’s unconventional but I’d love to give it a shot.”

-------------------------------------

a/n: Thanks to everyone who loved Bubble as much as me.

One thing I do wanna address is that I wanna make it clear that women do not have to have children to be a family. You can be a family with just your partner. I also don't believe in shaming those who chose to remain childless (I'm the president of that club) or women that choose to have them (thank you! I love being an auntie!)

Okay, that's a wrap folks - onto my next tale!

-------------------------------------

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[andreas-river]

➷ Kinktober 2023

Day V: Gangbang || Task Force 141

Cross-posted on Ao3.

It was supposed to be wrong, to feel so good at the point where your body had a mind of its own, to have goosebumps running down your skin as waves of pleasure collided against you, one after the other, like the hands that caressed you so gently, in contrast to the way your Captain drove into you with firm thrusts.

You didn't realize they had that in mind as you were the only ones in the base's private bar, the last mission still too fresh in your tired mind. From talking about some rookie on the base who was causing trouble, to discussing who had to take you first. Definitely normal, and the thought of being the only woman on the team made you almost self-conscious, their words full of lust that made your cheeks blush furiously and your blood boil, but not only from embarrassment.

Ghost was the one holding your wrists, preventing you from controlling your own pleasure—unfortunately, you were the type of woman who needed more than just something pounding inside your pussy to make you come, almost regretting saying it out loud when everyone was undressing—except Ghost of course, who only took off his jacket and unzipped his pants, but at least he didn't have his usual gloves.

Lying down on the wooden coffee table, Price finished with a grunt, pulling out and painting your lower abdomen with his white cum, the room filled with ragged breaths and your whimpers. He fixed himself under your unfocused gaze while the others stared at you with hungrier eyes.

He smiled, sitting on the couch as he lit his cigar. "She's all yours, boys," he takes a drag, everyone staring at your body ravenously. "I'm just going to enjoy this for now."

Gaz exhales, his face adorned with the widest of his grins. "You all heard him—she's ours."

Soon you were manhandled, standing for a brief second before Gaz took your place, encouraging you to straddle him, your thighs trembling at being so open as they helped you down onto his cock, a trail of pre-cum along his entire shaft feeling like natural lubricant.

Not that you needed it, and for a moment you actually denied the thought from your mind as you finally sat on top of him, every vein of him pulsing inside you, but you gasped as something cold made contact with your asshole, your voice silenced by Ghost who made sure you had your lips sealed to his hard cock, your moans and whimpers falling on deaf ears as Soap's finger nudged gently against it, the muscles inside wrapping around his finger so tightly you heard him hiss for a moment.

He opened your hole with another finger, your body naturally trying to escape, but from Simon's big cock resting on your tongue, making you drool on him, coating the hot skin with your saliva, while the shallow thrusts Gaz gave from below, the position perfect for hitting something so deep inside you that you'd never felt so full in your life—it didn't take much, of course, for Soap to start pressing the tip against your hole, the tight ring of muscles trying so hard to accommodate him inside.

You felt dizzy when he was fully inside you, jolts of pain mixing with arousal. You had to close your eyes, overwhelmed by the amount of sensations your body was being subjected to. For a moment your ears were ringing, but the hands on your body helped you back to reality, murmuring praise and caressing your soft skin. Soap began to move slowly and all three men cursed, and you couldn't help but moan at their words, how they praised every part of you and at the same time made your guts twist, setting your nerves on fire and making you a complete mess.

Both Gaz and Soap were merciless, pounding the pleasure out of you as they moved in sync while tears formed in your eyes from Ghost's cock using your throat like a hole to fuck at his own pace—they were the ones who decided where they wanted you, when you would cum, making you feel so helpless yet powerful at how you made them feel, their cock aching only for you. Each of them was so close you could feel Gaz underneath you holding your hips tighter, Soap's thrusting becoming more erratic and Ghost holding your head tighter, the lack of oxygen making you feel like you were under the effect of some drug.

But when something pinched your clit—two fingers right on top of it, rubbing that little bundle of nerves that hadn't received any attention from the start—that was the end, your eyes rolling in your skull as you came, thighs trembling as you almost screamed but your voice still muffled by the cock in your mouth. Your body went completely limp, mind still awake but consciousness elsewhere—definitely on cloud nine.

Even though you didn't realize it, the three men came after you, Ghost being the only one who pulled out to prevent you from choking, while Price was the one who held most of your weight after he decided to rejoin, just to make you cum instantly without any effort at all.

When you opened your eyes again, someone was holding your head and holding a glass of water to your lips, encouraging you to drink it. The fresh liquid felt so good on your sore throat, your body shivered slightly from the adrenaline that was finally wearing off, but they all noticed and placed a blanket on top of you—where they got it, was a mystery.

"Did you have fun?" with your eyes finally open, you finally see Soap holding the glass, Price sitting on the coffee table behind him, Gaz leaning close to your legs and a pair of hands caressing your hair, recognizing Ghost's touch on you, all of them never taking their eyes off you.

You nod in response, too tired to form words. Before you know it, you fall asleep again under their gentle hands, wondering from the back of your mind if it would happen again. Surely you wouldn't mind.

[sokkastyles]

I'm not sure if you're tired of seeing asks like this, so it's okay if you don't want to give a lengthy answer, but I have some thoughts about why female fans (in general) are more open to the idea of Zutara or hearing takes about them as a pairing compared to male fans (in general). I think it might partially have to do with how men (in general) see women versus how women (in general) see themselves. I feel like a lot of male fans are very resistant to the idea of Katara being a flawed person because it gets in the way of their perception of what makes Katara desirable and a good character. For a lot of male fans it seems like Katara's darker, more complicated emotions are separate from who she is as a whole person or something that needs to be fixed, but for a lot of female fans Katara's complicated emotions and her trauma are considered an essential part of understanding her as a character and not something that needs to be corrected or fixed. Personally, as a brown girl myself, I loved the fact that Katara was realistically flawed, decided to handle her trauma on her own terms, and had Zuko supporting her through it and understanding her. I'm not really sure if this makes sense, and I might be very off base, but these are generalizations based on my personal observations. What do you think?

I think you're spot on. Just look at, for example, Katara's characterization with regard to her mother's death. Her taking on motherly traits is something that makes her a desirable love interest when those motherly instincts are turned on Aang, yet Aang especially refuses to deal with the negative side of that, Katara's trauma over her mother's death and the toll that this emotional labor takes on her. Women are supposed to be motherly by nature. They aren't supposed to complain about it or be negatively affected by having to carry other people's needs all the time without attending to their own. They aren't supposed to be human. The way that Aang thinks Katara should deal with her trauma is by being endlessly forgiving, and that's telling. It's framed as coming from Aang's personal cultural beliefs, yet he does not tell other characters, like Zuko or Sokka, that they should forgive the people who hurt them. He did not forgive the people who destroyed his people or who stole Appa. This need to forgive is focused solely on Katara, even though Sokka points out that Kya was his mother, too. And oh, we can talk all day about the difference between the way Katara and Sokka feel about their mother, but at the end of the day, these are fictional characters and the writers made a decision to portray Katara's pain, that is directly connected to the ways they established her as a motherly figure to Aang, as bad and irrational and something that stood in the way of her reciprocating Aang's love. That this aspect of her personality needed to be purged or repressed so that she could fulfill her role as Aang's motherwife.

Men dichotomize women like this all the time, without realizing that they have created these dichotomies. No woman ever fits into these boxes because women are not dichotomies, they are full human beings. That's why a lot of women identify with this aspect of Katara and resent the show's attempts to dichotomize her.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part One (You're on it!) Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Seven.A Part Eight

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

[rustedhearts]

dagger (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)

summary: the dark of night and light of morning in steve's old apartment

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ the library

tags: angst; toxic relationship; mentions of past child abuse/domestic violence; fluff at the end. again, not edited.

"the sunshine girl is sleeping, she falls and dreams alone. and me i am her dagger, too numb to feel her pain."

— dagger, slowdive

hawkins, indiana. october 1989.

"Do you think I'm bad?"

It comes whispered in the blue dark of midnight, tickled with the warm mint breath of your boyfriend on the other end of the pillow. Rays of moonlight beam over the bed through the blinds above. The whoop of sirens passed by in a whizzed crescendo. In one of the apartments downstairs, a door slammed so hard it rattled the frame on the nightstand.

And despite the noise of the night, the room was painfully quiet in this bed with Steve.

"Of course not," you murmured, shifting to brush noses with him atop flattened feathers.

Steve sighs, another gust of warmth. His fingers graze your chin from their place under your head. Your feet rub together under the sheets, legs intertwined. He fucked you forty minutes ago and neither of you had been able to fall asleep since. The ache never really went away. The gnawing, biting sting that something was wrong never settled down.

"That I'm a bad person," he clarified.

When he spoke this lowly, this softly, his voice had a graveled edge to it. It cracked around vowels and faded off at the end of sentences.

You furrowed your brows, swallowing. "No, Steve."

Forty minutes ago he fucked you, but three hours ago he was slamming every door in the house and throwing his car keys down the stairs. He was shattering a mug in the sink and banging his fist into his head that 'wouldn't stop pounding.' He ignored your urges to fix the bleeding on his brow, to sit down and rest because he had a long night.

A night of loss.

It was a low-level, low stake fight—but failure was failure to Steve. He said nothing on the way home, but exploded the moment he pulled into the lot when you reached for his arm. The slam of the passenger door narrowly missed your hand. The tug of your arm inside the apartment left a burning ring.

You were going to tell him you loved him tonight. After the fight, in your prettiest dress, a love letter written for him to find in the morning when you went to work.

But now you lied awake, hours before the opening shift at the library, and wondered how badly love was supposed to hurt.

Steve wiggled his hand free of your head and brought it to your cheek. Thumb brushing the tears dried on your soft, clean skin. Running along your shoulder, over the soft cotton of his shirt pulled on in a need for comfort. Into the crook of your elbow, massaging the flesh with another heavy sigh.

"Think m' bad for you."

You wanted to protest—but he was. Your parents said it the moment they met him. They begged you not to see him anymore. Your friends grimaced when you complained of another fight. You followed every tear-stained explanation with 'but I love him.'

"No," you argued firmly.

You wanted to say more, lips parting to express some sort of fond sentiment that would've made Steve wince—but he ran the pad of his finger over the top of your brow, just how you liked it when you were tired.

Your nose wiggled, your lashes fluttered. Steve sighed another minty breath.

"Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist resting on your chest. His palm pressed into your cheek. You let your eyes sink shut, your breathing shallow. Steve watched, blinking into a dusty darkness, as you fell asleep.

✶ ✶

Steve woke sometime near dawn. After a measly few hours of stirring and turning, doing his best to get comfortable but feeling nothing but discomfort, he snapped awake with a huff.

He slipped out of bed quietly, sheets whooshing in the still quiet of early morning. Blackbirds were twittering in the trees beyond the window, the soft orange and pink hues of a rising sun casting a beautiful glow over your cheek on the pillow. It made your hair look like it was on fire.

He shuffled into the kitchen, flipped a clean glass from its place on the kitchen counter, drying on a towel. He filled it with water, gulped it down like air. He filled it again, and padded back into the bedroom.

He leaned against the doorway, head cocking to press against the wood. You slept so peacefully. Like some sort of painting, how perfectly perched your hands were, how wonderfully languid your legs were under the sheets. You helped him pick a new bedspread out last month. You said the last one was too 'scruffy' and you didn't like how it felt on your skin.

He hadn't meant to, but Steve upset you that day. He said he didn't want 'girly shit' on his bed, that he didn't need a new bedspread because he was barely home to sleep on it. You hid your tears behind a box of sheets.

And he felt like a piece of shit in the middle of a K-Mart aisle.

Why did he say it? He still doesn't know. Standing there, watching you sleep, watching your face settle into a state of stasis—unaffected by Steve, free of frowns or creases or worries—Steve wondered what the fuck you were doing with him. He was terrible to you.

Not all the time, but enough. Enough that it made him sick. Tears sprung to his eyes, burned them like a sandpaper. He sniffed, rubbing a scabbed knuckle into the corner of one to clear them away.

Why did he say such horrible things? Why was he so quick to bite, so quick to nip? He growled. He barked. He yelled for nothing. It was nature to him now, to think everything was out to get him. Nature turned him bitter.

Steve took a sip of his water and set it on the dresser. A movie ticket stub sat tucked under a bottle of cologne. His finger grazed the paper on his way to the edge of the bed, where he sat near your feet.

He wished he could tell you why he was like this—but what would he say? My dad fucked me up. My mom fucked me up. Did they?

Steve pressed his elbows onto his knees and doubled over.

Or was he always like this? Was he born to hurt?

He pressed his palms into his eyes. The tears pooled into them, trickled free around the edges and down his arms. He knew if you were awake to see him cry, he'd push you away.

He didn't want to. He wished he could tell you that most of all. That every bite, every bark, every time you turned away with that sad little well in your eyes—it came before he could stop it.

Your hand was the softest thing he'd ever felt. Trailing his back, running through his hair, cupping his fingers, skimming his stomach.

Steve sniffed again, lifting his head to peer over his shoulder at your sleeping figure again.

When you were particularly happy, you left a smatter of kisses on his face. His eyes, his nose, his chin, the scar under his jaw where his father knocked him into the kitchen counter at eight years old. You took particular care of that small sliver of skin, running your nose over the scar that took on a tanned appearance.

He cowered every time.

They made him ugly. His father, his mother, the marks they left on him that he couldn't erase.

Steve stood from the bed and found his jacket on the floor. He fished his cigarettes from the pocket, swiped his lighter from the nightstand. He crawled into bed and tucked his knees up, using them as shelves for his arms as he took in the first drag.

You stirred in your sleep, brows creasing when you rolled onto your back. Your hands sought the sheets, and Steve was quick to bring them over your shoulders. You slept like a corpse sometimes. Steve's lip quirked.

You were funny. Most people didn't know that about you. They categorized you as a quiet, timid person—but fuck were you talkative. When you got comfortable, when you got to know someone, your mouth babbled like a motor. You made Steve laugh without even trying.

Did he ever make you laugh?

Steve looked away, blowing the smoke sideways. You let out a little groaning sound. He hurriedly resumed his staring, watching your eyes flutter open.

"Steve?" you slurred, lips barely moving. Your hands reached for him limply, still heavy with sleep.

Steve pulled his cigarette away, holding it over the edge of the bed. "Shh. Go back to sleep, baby."

You tapped the bed a few times, eyes sinking closed again. Another little noise, whiny and cracked, emitted from your throat. "Want you."

Steve flinched. Half-asleep, sweet, softened and warmed by hours of slumber in freshly-cleaned sheets: you were too good for him.

He stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray on his windowsill overhead, quickly shimmying his way toward you under the covers. You curled into the warmth of him, cold nose nudging his chest. He wound his arm around your back and buried his fingers in your hair. Your arm slid over his side delicately.

"Hmm," you moaned contentedly. "Stop thinking."

Steve pressed his cheek to the top of your head, letting a smile crack through. He hissed in a breath, letting it release with a groan. "Okay."

A moment of quiet passed. For a minute, Steve thought you fell back to sleep. But the way you breathed into him, the way your lashes fluttered against his chest, Steve knew you were only pretending.

"Are you awake?"

You blinked your eyes open, fixing them on a streak of light over the wall at your feet. "Yes."

"Can we..." Steve squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed down the shitty thing that clawed its way up his throat. "Can we just...be together today? Just me and you?"

Your lips spread into a smile, head turning to hide in his arm. You let him wait a minute, sat in the buttery silence of the morning before anyone else was awake.

You let out a sigh like you were thinking. "Okay."

Steve ran the edge of his fingers down the back of your skull. "Okay."

You stayed in bed until ten. Not speaking, not sleeping—just touching. Listening. Breathing in and out.

You called the library from the edge of the toilet seat as Steve warmed the shower, watching the plain of his broad back flex and squirm with every movement. You told them you spent the night throwing up, that you couldn't come in. Steve turned around and winked at you.

He crowded you against the tiled wall, fucked you flat into the cold surface under a stream of steaming water. Free of rough hands and angry eyes; only soft hands kneading, only gentle lips kissing, only his dripping water into your eyes when he leaned over your shoulder to find your mouth.

He buttered the toast when it popped from the toaster, salted and peppered the eggs when they came to the plates. You ate on the countertop, legs tucked in under a big blue t-shirt clean from the closet floor. He leaned into the cabinets and fed you bites of strawberry-jam slathered toast. He licked a dollop from your chin and chuckled when you squirmed.

He did the dishes. He cleaned the porcelain shatters from last night. He let you play the radio on your favorite station and grab at his hips when Carly Simon came on. He scooped you into his arms, hands warm and chapped and full of dish soap bubbles. He carried you to the living room and threw you on the couch.

The pair of you spent the afternoon half-naked on the floor, missing pants and proper shirts but agreeing to keep the heat on high. You crawled through photo albums and old high school yearbooks, spreading out his record collection and some of your own you brought weeks ago. You played them all, even the shitty ones he groaned at.

He pushed you on the floor with a heavy hand on your chest and snapped a Polaroid. He said he liked how you looked like this. In his clothes, damp from his shower with nothing but a smile on your face.

Most of all, he made you laugh. All day, tipping your head back into the ceiling, squirming into his shoulder, bringing fingers over your mouth to hide your teeth. Each time, he pulled them away. Kissed you, all mouth and no tongue, and pulled away just to watch.

To watch how happy he made you, because for once, he really did.

[roseofdarknessblog]

Long way ahead (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 3 160

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: After years of fear, pain, and fighting, you and Levi finally have the family both of you always dreamed about.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Long way ahead

The day was beautiful, and the weather almost too perfect. The sky was clear and the sun was shining down on you. On all the Scouts, who once again found themselves outside the Walls in Titan territory. It was supposed to be a so-called training mission.

Everybody was meant to survive and come back home.

It was all going so well. Just until it wasn't. Just until the Female Titan showed up and brought death and destruction with her. In one moment, you were all trying to protect Eren. Petra was right next to you and Eld right in front of you. Oluo and Gunther to your left and behind you. And in the middle, between all of you, was Eren.

You all changed the formation multiple times, just like you were taught. Everybody was as aware of their surroundings as possible. Nobody wanted to die.

Despite that, they were all gone in a blink of an eye. Your squadmates were brutally murdered right before your eyes. Just seconds before the Female Titan threw you against the tree as well.

You didn't even have time to scream out. When your body collided with the tree trunk, pain took your ability to speak and breathe. It felt as if all of your bones broke at the same moment. Shooting out at least one of the hooks of your ODM gear was impossible. You were barely conscious after you hit the tree.

You didn't even notice your body falling. Only when you hit the ground and the air was knocked out of your lungs once again. You didn't even know how, but one of your blades, which was in your hands just seconds ago, went into your left thigh. Hot blood was spilling out of your wound, turning your white pants dark red.

You've never felt pain like that before. Never in your life. Every fiber of your being felt like on fire. Breathing was unbelievably hard. Even the shaking of the ground beneath you, as the Female Titan continued running made you feel immense pain.

What happened to Eren?

Where was he?

You and the others were supposed to protect him. He was humanity's chance to defeat the Titans.

Eren had to survive at any cost.

Eren...

A simple blink was all it took for the scenery around you to change. Suddenly, you weren't in the forest anymore. When you looked up, you saw the sky once again. And Levi with Hange. They were kneeling beside you, both of them looking at you with so much worry in their eyes. Levi... his features were unrecognizable under all the fear. His face was completely pale, his lips pressed into a thin line.

You've never seen him this scared. Never before. And probably never after.

„Don't you dare!“ he hissed through gritted teeth, his hand gently stroking strands of hair away from your face. „I don't want to be alone again,“ Levi whispered, making sure nobody heard him. Except Hange, who was trying to slow down the bleeding from the wound on your thigh.

„Sorry...“ you got out, almost choking on the blood you suddenly needed to spit out from your mouth. Levi swiftly turned you on your side to help, making you cry out in pain so loud even your own ears hurt.

Levi leaned closer to you, rubbing your back while you were coughing and spitting out blood onto the ground in front of you. „I'm taking you back home and when you'll be able to walk again, we're getting married,“ he whispered, not caring if Hange heard what he said.

You were barely able to stay conscious and make out what he was saying. Keeping your eyes open was too tiring, too painful. Everything hurt so much, even the feeling of the wind on your cheeks. Despite that, you found Levi's hand and gave him a small nod.

When Hange moved a little, their body shielding you from the rest of the Scouts, Levi bent down even closer and pressed his lips to your temple. You smiled at him ever so slightly, feeling your eyes closing against your will.

His beautiful face was the last thing you saw. His silky black hair and stormy blue-grey eyes. The way he was looking at you as if he was trying to engrave the picture of your face into his brain.

After your eyes opened again, you were back inside the Walls. Lying on a wagon right next to Eren. Your hand was shaking when you reached out towards him. But before you could touch his shoulder, Eren looked in your direction with eyes full of tears. You didn't understand why he was crying but you were simply too weak to ask.

And just like that, he was gone when you blinked. You woke up somewhere else once again – on the skeletal back of the Founding Titan, that was headed straight at Fort Salta. Many different variations of the Nine Titans were all around you. Your comrades were fighting against them.

Just when you heard someone call your name in the distance, a familiar crying noise stole your attention. You weren't in pain anymore, but standing up and actually walking was somehow still not possible. All you could do was look around and search for where the crying was coming from.

It sounded like... like a baby.

„Y/N!“ someone called your name once again. However, all you were able to care about, was the baby. Where was it? And why? Why did somebody bring a baby to a place like this? „Y/N!“

You looked over your shoulder once again, finally finding the crying little human. A black-haired baby in a pastel yellow blanket with sunflowers was in the arms of a blonde girl. She couldn't be much older than ten or eleven. Around her stood a bunch of Titans you've never seen in your life. Three different versions of the War Hammer, one Jaw Titan, and something that was supposed to represent the Beast Titan.

The baby in her arms was... yours.

When you wanted to say something, talk to the girl... to Ymir... you couldn't get a word out. You couldn't scream when she started walking away, taking your daughter with her and commanding the Titans to finish you off.

You couldn't draw your blades, because you suddenly didn't have them. Nor your ODM gear. All you could do was scream after Ymir even if no sound came out of your mouth. You screamed and screamed until your lungs felt like on fire and until the Titans got to you.

At that moment, you finally woke up. Gasping for air, you sat up and looked around yourself, almost immediately hearing the soft cries of a newborn baby. In the dim light of your bedroom, Levi was sitting on his side of the bed, looking at you with concern written all over his face.

„I tried waking you up but...“ he shook his head, looking down at the little black-haired baby wrapped in a pastel yellow blanket with sunflowers. „Wanna talk about it?“

„No... no, better not,“ you got out, trying to slow down your breathing. Your whole body was trembling from the still to realistic nightmare, as you moved closer to Levi and looked at your daughter. „She's hungry again?“

„Probably. I changed her diaper and tried rocking her back to sleep but it seems like she needs you,“ Levi said, his expression softening immediately as his lips pressed a loving kiss to the baby's forehead.

„Okay, fine. I'll feed her, you can go back to sleep.“

He shook his head, waiting for you to make yourself more comfortable. Only then did he carefully hand you the tiny, not even two-week-old newborn baby. Such an ordinary thing helped you calm down completely and return to reality. The weight and warmth of your baby in your arms and against your chest.

She was here – safe and alive. With you and Levi, her parents.

No Titans.

No Founder Ymir.

Nothing and nobody from your previous life, only you three.

„I'll stay up with the two of you,“ Levi said and kissed your forehead as well.

So while you nursed the baby, Levi kept you company. Even if he only sat there in silence, listening to the soft whispers addressed to your daughter in a hushed and sweet voice. Upon seeing her and Levi, all remains of the nightmare disappeared.

Nothing was real... not anymore.

Titans were gone and you survived.

When Levi's squad died because of Annie, you did not. You became the only survivor of that encounter, even if you made it out alive by a whisker. But you did. It took months until you recovered but... you did.

And now nothing from those times was real anymore. All of those memories were just... well, just memories. Nothing more and nothing less. They happened, they shaped you into the person you were today, but that was it. They no longer had the right to control your life.

„I can't even remember the last time I had such a horrible nightmare,“ you said after a long moment of silence when your daughter was finally fed and seemed satisfied once again. Resting in your arms, she kept looking up at you with her stormy blue-grey eyes. So similar to Levi's. „I don't know why it happened now, what could have triggered it.“

„Don't think that's important,“ Levi said, leaning closer to you. He very gently took the baby's hand, caressing her little fingers.

„She's the only thing that matters now.“

„Exactly,“ he agreed, looking at her with so much love and adoration. She was barely two weeks old but had her father wrapped around her finger.

Levi would do anything for his precious daughter, that was more than certain from the very first moment he saw her. All of his doubts about him not being a good enough father were pushed aside when he held her in his arms for the very first time. You were still in pain and just so exhausted from birth itself, but you remembered that moment very clearly. He was so spooked out, not sure how to hold a couple of minutes old baby. He was scared of unintentionally hurting her somehow. But at the same moment, his eyes were full of pure love and tears. And he didn't even try to hide them. It didn't matter that the hospital staff or you would see him shed a couple of tears. All that mattered in that moment, was the baby in his arms.

His baby.

The baby both of you waited so long for.

She was finally here and she was even more perfect than you dared to dream during your pregnancy.

Looking back, giving birth was the hardest thing you've ever done. From all the things you had to go through since you were born in the Underground, bringing your daughter into the world was the most incredible, but also the most painful and brutal thing that you've experienced.

Despite that... all the difficult days throughout your pregnancy and birth, she was more than worth it.

Seeing Levi become a father was for sure the most beautiful thing you could have experienced. Once Humanity's Strongest was all soft and loving towards the tiny little human he and you created. You knew he had a soft spot for kids, it was very obvious from his actions throughout the years.

But finally seeing him with his own child was something completely different. Hearing him talk to her, seeing him hold her for hours every day... It was so obvious that he never wanted to put her down. He was close to her at all times, always watching out if she needed anything. Even the softest little cry from her made Levi come over and check if everything was okay.

He was totally in love with her.

„It doesn't seem she wants to sleep,“ Levi said, while you leaned against him to rest your aching body a little. You were still slowly recovering and getting used to being a mother. And every day it was getting better and better, easier and more natural.

„Staring at her parents in the middle of the night is probably much more fun. Am I right, darling?“ you asked the baby, smiling at her lovingly.

„Just when I finally learned how to sleep through the night, somebody had to ruin it,“ Levi smirked, furrowing his brows at the baby accusingly. You chuckled quietly and kissed the top of her head, which was full of silky black hair. The Ackerman genes truly were strong. „I'll have to open the tea shop next week again.“

„Yeah, you should. I'm sure people will understand why we closed down for a little while but...“ you shrugged, giving your husband an innocent little smile.

For the past few weeks, there was a piece of paper taped to the door of your tea shop. It was the easiest way how to inform your customers, that you'll be back shortly. This time with a brand new little helper.

Since Levi wanted to help you as much as possible, he decided to close the tea shop shortly before you gave birth. The last few days were probably the hardest ones, so Levi decided to stay close and watch over you. It was nice, you welcomed his presence and the overall calmness of those days before your lives changed forever. You really got the chance to soak up all the last bits of your marriage while it was still just the two of you.

During your entire pregnancy, he tried to be by your side as much as possible, to ensure that you were doing okay. He never said it out loud, but he was terrified that something might happen to you or the baby. He was scared of losing the family he wanted for so many years.

The birth was long, chaotic, painful, and messy. It didn't go the way you hoped it would. Despite that, Levi never left your side. Not even for a single second. He held your hand, helped you breathe through every contraction, and kept reminding you how amazingly you were doing. He kept your mind busy, far away from fear or anxiety, and replaced them with nothing but pure love.

„When are we going to tell the others that we had a baby?“ you asked, watching your daughter trying to grab onto Levi's finger. It was obvious that she wasn't sleepy at all and all of you were due for a long night.

Falco, Gabi, Yelena, and Onyankopon were the only ones, who knew about your daughter. Only because they lived closest to you. Armin and Connie last came for a visit when you were five months pregnant. Because you were still barely showing, it was easy to hide your belly under certain pieces of clothing. Since then, you haven't seen any of your friends and only kept in touch by writing letters.

Keeping your pregnancy private gave you and Levi a strange feeling of peace, you truly wouldn't trade for anything.

„We'll let them know soon enough,“ Levi said, resting his head against yours.

„I know we don't have anywhere to hurry, but I'd like them to finally meet each other. In a way, they're like family to us, too.“

„They are,“ he agreed almost immediately.

After a little talk, you both agreed that you'd invite all of them for a visit in a week or two. For now, staying in your own little happy bubble was all you wanted and needed. You both knew, that your baby won't be this small ever again. So soaking up every single moment was very important.

„I love this. All of this,“ Levi whispered in a calm relaxed tone, kissing your temple while he took the baby from your arms. He very carefully snuggled her against his chest, stroking her back.

„Does being a father feel like you thought it would?“

„It's even better if I'm being honest,“ he smirked, smoothing the baby's hair down on the back of her head. „But sometimes I still don't get how we got here.“

„What do you mean?“

„You were barely seventeen when Furlan brought you home for the first time.“

„When he begged you not to kick me out,“ you teased him, laughing quietly at the old memory of your life in the Underground.

To your surprise, Levi chuckled himself, also thinking about how your very first meeting went. How you knelt in front of him because your injured ankle hurt so badly you weren't able to stand. Blood was dripping from your nose and your knuckles were all busted open from your sad little attempt to beat up the men who were hurting you. When you and Levi first met, you were a complete mess and if it wasn't for him and Furlan, you wouldn't last much longer. But they took you in and made you a part of their gang.

Many months later Isabel joined the three of you. At that moment you felt like your new family was finally complete.

And the rest... the rest is history. A collection of happy, sad, and painful memories.

„We've come such a long way since those days,“ Levi said, both of you watching your baby peacefully resting against Levi's chest. It didn't seem like she was missing something in that moment. The presence of her parents gave her the most important things – safety and love.

„And now we have an even longer one ahead of us,“ you added, leaning closer and finding Levi's lips in a sweet long kiss. It didn't matter how many times in your life you've kissed him. Every single time your lips touched, it felt like the purest magic. Even after so many years, you were head over heels for him. „And we'll walk down that road together.“

„Together,“ Levi agreed, his lips lingering close to yours for a moment before he kissed you again. Slowly and with so much love, it almost took your breath away. He never was a many of many words, because his actions always spoke louder.

„I'm glad we had to wait so long for her. At least she now gets to grow up in a much safer world than we did. She'll never know the pain and fear we had to go through.“

Levi opened his mouth to say something but eventually didn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and rested his head against yours. The baby in his arms made a few sweet noises when you rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head.

After Levi started humming a familiar melody quietly, her eyes slowly started to close. And yours as well.

Everything was okay.

Everything was finally as you always wished it would be.

Just you, Levi, and the purest outcome of your love, safely living in love and harmony.

[swayziiwriter]

Petty | Jude Bellingham

summary: when your best friend Jude decides to avert his attention to a desperate blonde you decide to turn the tables on him with none other then Jadon Sancho.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

Amongst the blaring music in the club you can still hear his voice. I'm Jude, you're not bad yourself, I could use another drink. The obnoxious blonde who had found her way to Jude now had her hands on him, tracing the collar of his black dress shirt. The worst part about it was that he was letting her.

He didn't even taken a second glance at you, pathetic you thought to yourself. Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebrations, Englands EURO qualifications games were spectacular. Though, you wanted nothing more than to go home. Jude was your best friend, your best friend who you we're undeniably in love with. So coming here tonight was supposed to be your chance of telling him how you felt, but instead you were watching from afar as Jude got felt up by some bimbo.

 You were infuriated beyond extent, your emotions mixed with the alcohol that was coursing through your body was dangerous. All your feelings were heightened, including your sexual drive. You wanted to forget about this constant pain in your heart every time Jude turned up to end up spending the night with some girl. Tired of all the countless nights fixated on how to finally express your emotions you decided that it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. Jude wasn't clueless about your feelings, a few drunken kisses made sure he knew. But still he never brought it up, instead he avoided it like the plague and you were tired of it.

"Stare any harder and you'll burn a hole in the back of his head" a voice quipped. "That's sort of the point" you seethed, not feeling in much of a positive mood anymore. You recognized the voice immediately, it belonged to Jadon Sancho teammate and friend of Jude. You were across from the bar the huge dance floor in front view. Hundreds of sweaty, drunk and horny people rubbing up against each other hoping to get laid. "Why'd you let him ruin your mood?" He questioned with a smirk. "You can be an asshole sometimes you know that" you replied taking down another shot, the burning sensation in your throat causing you to forget about Jude for just a second.

"Dance with me y/n" Jadon proposed, "oh Jadon I don't thi-" he cut you off with a small chuckle."This isn't for me y/n, this is too show Jude just what he's missing" he continued. Your brain was telling you to say no, yelling at you to take the high road and just ignore Jude for the night. But you couldn't.

Smiling at his genius antics hand in hand you two made your way down to the dance floor. "The hills" starting to echo through the large building as your warm bodies were flushed up against each other, your back to his front. Jude was watching, he had been watching from the second Jadon left his teammate's side to be with you.

Watching as you lightly grinded your body into Jadon's, Jude was livid. Watching as his hands rose up your body had him squirming, a deep feeling in his gut enough for him to want to throw up all the alcohol he had consumed earlier in the night. Dancing with Jadon was funner than expected, he would occasionally whisper subtle "he's looking, ah there he goes squirming again" leaving you to let out genuine laughs, laughs that Jude could hear all to well over the blaring music.

The blonde who had been around Jude for longer than his own liking was soon kicked to the curb as he soon realized you had been doing the same mechanism as him. Making the other one Jealous. Jude let Jadon bring his hands from behind as far as your stomach before he marched towards the dance floor, drink in one hand and nothing in the other. He had left this go on for to long, he couldn't stand the feeling of another man touching you, feeling your soft skin, your perfect lips.

"Oh shit, he's coming over here" Jadon yelled over the music, leaning into your body. "Y/n" Jude yelled over the music, "what Jude" you spat back, still pissed that he had let that blonde touch him. Jadon returned glances between both of you before making the decision to get out of there, sending you an apologetic look as he left you to fend alone against Jude. Jude continued to look at you with wide eyes, expecting an answer. "Can't you take a hint Bellingham I was in the middle of danc-" "dancing?" He interrupted. "You were all over him y/n, fucking hell are you trying to kill me?" He yelled. "Me!?" You replied, "you're the one who's had a bimbo on your ass all night. Sue me for wanting to have some actual fun" you spat.

The air was becoming thick, the tension and smell of sex in the air was becoming suffocating. Your mind felt as if it was running a thousand miles an hour. "If you're not man enough to tell me that you want me, then there's no reason why I shouldn't go fuck around with someone like Jadon" you continued to hurl insults at him before he finally snapped. Crashing his lips against yours in a heated passion.

Your hands were roaming over his chest as his lips worked in sync with yours. Jude gives you a firm but still tender kiss the tension between you and him was killing you both. He's hard about it and tells you he's wanted you for so long, but his touch is still gentle. He is letting you know that he has also always liked you.

The music at the club doesn't bother you. You basically let his tongue investigate your own, and let your bodies press together among all the intensity, strain, and horniness.

Finally, when you both leave the room to get some fresh air, the following events that come after are neglected. In the midst of the sexual tension, horniness, and outright neediness, it is forgotten. The backseat of the taxi you are both in is a blur of hasty movements, hasty kisses, and long groaning awaiting to arrive. When you get to Jude's condo his movements are fast, your back hits his bed the midst of a heavy make out. Clothes, his tie, shoes, and your heels were all left on the floor in the trail of your exasperated needs.

He was hovering over you, taking in every inch of your body as it curved into his, his hard cock hitting your thighs as your body shuddered with pleasure. Jude brought his hand down to your core, teasing your folds as he spoke dirty words into your ear. He slipped two fingers into your dripping pussy, collecting your wetness in between his fingers. 

Your hands gripped at the sheets as he worked on your pussy, fingering you fast to your release. His voice was thick with lust as he felt you clench around him and wrap your legs around his waist as he continued to press his fingers inside of you. "you look so pretty for me baby."

Your back arched from the bed as you watched his beautiful face, and it took all of your inner strength not to cum. "Gonna cum all over my fingers?" He questioned, "be a good girl and cum all over my fingers" you body shook with pleasure white noise talking over as the euphoric feeling took over your body.

You were moaning his name in an attempt to stop the overstimulation on your core. "Wanna feel you" you managed to gasp out between breathes. He pushed your body up the bed, spreading your legs just enough to settle himself in between them, "about to be so ruined for me" he tapped his cock against your wet folds, the action alone making you cry out in frustration. "I'm not going to stop until your dripping with my cum" he said pushing into your tight pussy. Because you didn't anticipate that movement, you let out a small cry of surprise mixed with a moan of pleasure.

To fully appreciate how his cock got inside of you and how your walls tightened around it, you had to close your eyes for a while. He moved inside of you briefly, using only one hand; He placed your leg and the other on his shoulder by lifting your leg; He gave your clit a rub. You had the impression that his thrusts were reaching deeper within you because of the angle your leg was at.

Jude stopped stroking your clit to wrap one of his hands around your neck. You were certain that your moans had already turned into tiny screams while he was deep within you. You arched your back with pleasure. Before you took that forearm and squeezed it, Jude gently stroked the skin on your neck. He probably accepted that as a sign since he applied a touch of tension.

You tried to complain, but all you got was a sound that sounded like you were gasping as his pace picked up. You tried to yell, or at least try to, because your lips were being caressed by his thumb as he continued to press on them. When you were already almost there, your pussy voluntarily tightened around his cock. You were in an orgasmic state when Jude let out a deep growl.

Your pussy continued to pulse around his cock as he followed you a few seconds later. Before rolling next to you, he took your hand out of the ring around his neck. Your lungs were asking for air, your mind was a finished wreck, and your vision obscured until you could slow down and rest. You could feel beads of Judes cum rolling down your sweaty thighs.

You and Jude had given into your needs and it never felt better. You wanted to feel him every where, all the time. He wanted it too, the way his eyes never left yours was evidence of it, the way his body connected with yours was beautiful. You and Jude were in sync, complete with each other.

[one-of-tankhuns-neurons]

HOW IS THE SHOW WITH MOST PORN WITH PLOT POTENTIAL ONE OF THE BEST SHOWS EVER??

Dude Deep Night has always been a journey about family, acceptance and love. Love towards others, live towards yourself, but THIS EPISODE.. it was just so beautiful. I think it might be a 10/10 seriously...

Just look

See how far Khemtid has come as a character and as a person.. he went from being selfish and angry and jealous to crying our of EMPATHY for his boyfriends pain.

To crying because he's worked to hard to get the club his mom loves so much back on track. This man cries because he's now feeling feelings in a much healthier way.

And the throuple??? Not a kink thing??? But actual poly??? They're introducing this topic so carefully, it's developed so naturally... The looks, the enemies to helping each other, to these looks.. to feeling he's part of it as well and being concerned about it. He's part of their dynamic but they don't know how to put that into something real. Fuck when I tell you I felt so sad in these moments, because all three of them hurt.

Also... Talking about age???? And how you're still allowed to love like a teen???? And that's valid???? The phrase she says cut me deep broool

"In all of that, there's no me"

Freya will have to learn to accept herself, because love is a vulnerable thing and she's supposed to be strong and a mother and a boss and a leader.. but what about the one she leans on when she's tired???

And the way Khemtid just kNOWS

We're also getting the quiet love, the hand holding, the hair brushing, the every day love. We have been losing that, and I'm so glad they're showing it.

He'll do ANYTHING for Wela.

FUCK THERES SO MUCH I ALSO WANT TO TALK ABOUT

The way it's directed is masterful at creating tension and excitement and confusion and the rush of adrenaline when you like someone but you're too damn scared...

The third couple... "If you don't tell me, I won't know"

It's slow

It's good

I feel in love just watching it

I feel sad

I feel joy

I feel..

I feel.

This is what shows are supposed to be.

[haunted-moon]

Long Way Home [Part VII]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

Read Part 2 here.

Read Part 3 here.

Read Part 4 here.

Read Part 5 here.

Read Part 6 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part VII

My mind was still fighting the wine induced muddle, trying to grasp the fact that Azriel was really here. My body though, acted on a reflex. I had repacked the basket, rolled the mat and was out of the clearing before he opened his mouth to speak. I heard nothing but the gush of blood into my head, and I quickly went inside and locked the door of the main entrance. 

I didn't know what to think. Azriel had come here. He had come to a place which was unknown to everyone but me and father. 

The mat and the basket slipped from my hands and thumped on the wooden floor. The cloak was halfway down my shoulders as I pressed myself against the door, parting the curtain of the window adjacent to it to see if he was outside. 

He was. 

There was a verandah extending from the front door with a wrap-around porch. The roof over the verandah was held upright by two carved pillars, and Azriel was sitting down and leaning back against one of them. His head was turned the other way, watching the stars still falling. 

His usual leathers were absent; in their place was a black shirt and pair of black trousers. The buttons of the shirt glinted in the light like gemstones. His hair was ruffled, silver jewellery adorned his neck and hands. He was the still the most beautiful fae I had ever laid my eyes on, and the mating bond within me flared to life for a moment and tugged painfully. 

I wanted nothing but to open the door, walk out and hold him. 

The sensible part of me held me in check. Even though he was supposed to be my mate, he had given me nothing but pain until now, and I couldn't let go of it that easily. I clamped down on the bond, let the curtain fall back and went upstairs to my bed. 

The entry of my room's balcony was set with French windows, and its curtains were always parted to let in the scenery. The sky was still lit, but fading as the event was coming to an end. This was the second time since that night when I cried myself to sleep. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next day, I found a note on the kitchen table. It was my father's handwriting, with two words on it. 

I'm sorry.

Well, that solved the mystery of how Azriel came to know about this place. It didn't matter. I was not angry. I was not sad. I was empty, tired. The spark of feeling in me had withered and I had no idea how to revive it. 

In the days that followed, Azriel made a habit of lingering. I noticed him flying in at dusk, possibly after finishing his duties. He never imposed himself on me, he was just...there. 

As I moved inside, he followed from outside. The porch around the villa had a thick, low wall for comfortable seating which he took advantage of. Every room I was in the ground floor, I could see him out the window, seated on the porch wall. He was in his usual leathers and cloak, and I could see the dim light emanating from his chest and the back of his hands. His head was always turned the other way, as if he was looking out, but I knew he watched me when I wasn't looking at him. 

I let him be. I didn't want to talk to him, let alone argue and send him away.

He perched on the balcony wall when I was in my bed, and the only room he couldn't look into was the bathroom. However, I could see him from the window, on the porch railing directly underneath it. 

As it was, he was comfortable. He had his cloak to protect himself from the cold, and I'm sure he ate during the day. 

He was waiting for me to willingly let him in. And for that, I hoped he had the patience of a saint because this wasn't going to be easy.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Tags:

@kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @impossibelle @sourapplex @brujitafantomatico @venuseuripedis @darling006

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 8 here.

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

[escelia]

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Here's part 3 (or chapter 4) of my fic Not So Normal. After this installment, I'm planning on uploading the series to ao3 as well as Tumblr so stay tuned for that link to drop!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterpost

Not So Normal pt3

TW: vague, brief descriptions/mentions of violence, vivisection, and panic attacks

It had been a total accident. His parents were supposed to be halfway to a science convention by then. When Danny floated through the floor and into the kitchen he hadn't expected his mothe- he hadn't expected Maddie to be there. He should have expected the gun in his face a moment later, but definitely not the hole she'd put in his chest before he'd even gotten a word out. It happened so fast. The shouting and shooting, the thermos…

He'd come to on the exam table in the lab, wrists bound, bright light in his face. He could barely make out the figures just beyond it, though he knew exactly who they were. He'd begged and screamed and cried, anything to get them to listen. Jack had gotten Maddie to take a breath and listen for a moment as Danny tried to get it through to them that he was their son!

"I'm Danny, it's me! I'm still me! Please, mom, you've gotta believe me!"

They believed him. He never thought that would make it worse. They became curious in a way they weren't before. Less angry about the dastardly spook they thought had been impersonating their son and more eager to tear into the science experiment they believed legally belonged to them. They called him an abomination that was no longer human and gripped their scalpels with cruel excitement on their faces. He remembered screaming for hours.

Only Clockwork would be able to say how long he'd been like that. All Danny had known was that he was tired and weak, his throat was dry and his entire body ached. He'd been in human form for the whole thing, and though it was much more painful that way, it kept them from getting to his core. He would only ever be grateful for that.

Eventually it was Jazz that had released him. Jack and Maddie had stepped out for dinner believing his restraints would hold his weakened body. They'd been right, he couldn't have escaped on his own, but Jazz had snuck down to the basement right after they'd left and shoved him through the portal, telling him not to come back, it wasn't safe, but to contact her when he knew he was okay. She'd locked the portal's blast door behind him. There, drifting in the vast green of the Realms, he cried and cried until he felt himself fall through a natural portal.

He'd dropped into a dirty alley with a painful thud and couldn't suppress the cry of pain as rocks and dirt pressed into his wounds.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He'd heard a man call. Gentle but firm hands helped him sit up, his own hands busy keeping his chest closed and smearing the blood and dirt that already covered him. The man gasped in horror as Danny begged for help.

Turns out the man that found him was none other than Bruce Wayne. He was alright as far as billionaires went; far more sane than Vlad at the very least. When Bruce asked what happened all he could get out was that his parents hurt him and he never wanted to go back there. Bruce had decided then and there that he would keep Danny. They'd taken pictures of the damage for court, thinking they would need to build a solid case since Danny was healing up well. He even called in a few favors with his lawyers. The Fentons, though, oh they helped plenty.

"Dr's Fenton, how do you plead?"

"Guilty! That thing is a monster! It belongs to us! That's our experiment! It's fooled you all! You'll see, just wait!"

Several of the officers around the courtroom had to restrain them as Maddie screamed and flailed. Jack was fuming. But much more docile than his wife. The pictures and testimonies had been enough to prove them guilty of child abuse and neglect, but their outburst all but sealed their fate as unsuitable parents. That day, Danny found a new place to call home, and a new family he was ready to die for.

~~•○•~~

Today was the day! Er- night! Tonight was the night! Danny was finally going out on patrol with the bat clan officially. After the events at the warehouse and his family finally learning about his past as Fenton and Phantom, Bruce has asked Danny if he was interested in patrolling with them. Damian had vouched for Danny, doling out thinly veiled compliments about his fighting prowess. Bruce decidedly kept that info to himself. The enthusiasm with which Danny responded had Bruce regretting asking, but it was clear that Danny had been itching to get out there and fight some crime.

Due to his experience, he'd been paired with Nightwing for the night. Dick had cheered at finally getting some one on one time with Danny, pulling him in for the kind of suffocating hug only an older sibling could provide. They had an absolute blast that night. Dick would show off, doing fun, dangerous looking flips off of buildings before firing his grappling hook at the last minute. And Danny could keep up, even as he swung through the air. It made Dick cackle in delight. Quietly of course, they were very stealthy, thank you! (Dick had to be shushed over the coms several times, and Danny was able to keep his laughter to a quiet snicker.)

They'd been on a roll with Danny being able to cover so much ground from so high up. In just the first few hours they'd stopped at least three muggings, recovered a stolen car, and prevented a bank robbery before it had even begun. Hearing his father commend him for a job well done over the coms made him glow with pride. He'd never had so much fun on patrol before. It made his core vibrate with glee.

"Danny, are you… purring?" Dick asked. He heard the others gasp over the coms.

"No! No, now way, I'm absolutely not purring! What gave you that idea?"

"He purrs?" Tim guffawed over the line, and Steph began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Absolutely not!"

"I've found he purrs when he's incredibly happy or content, just like a cat," Damian explained. He could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Aaawwwwwww! I'm happy spending time with you too, baby ghost!" Danny was smothered with another hug.

"Betrayed. By my baby brother! I cannot believe this."

"Settle down everyone! We're still on the clock," came the gruff, authoritative voice of Batman.

Sobering up from the moment, Danny and Dick went back to patrolling. It was starting to get quiet in their area, the others reporting incidents in their own sections of the city. It gave them time to grab a snack before something new popped up.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Nightwing began, taking a bite of his granola bar.

"I am," Danny replied. His snack of choice was a pack of fruit snacks. "Patrolling in my old haunt was exhausting. It was just me and my two friends out there most nights. Fight after fight after fight… I have a sense that lets me detect the presence of other ghosts, and it seemed to go off nonstop there. I was lucky if I got eight hours of sleep in a week, let alone a night." He paused to pop a few snacks in his mouth. Dick was quietly attentive, munching on his granola bar.

"Here, I know I've got someone to watch my back. And it helps that humans are much easier to handle non-violently than ghosts."

"I'm glad you like it here, Phantom," Nightwing said with a smile, using his codename. Danny smiled back, getting ready to toss a few fruit snacks into his mouth but stopping short when a chill unfurled on his chest. He gasped, dropping his snacks. Seemed like their break was over.

"What's wrong?" Nightwing asked alert now, eyes flicking around the area to perceive the threat.

"Get behind me."

"What?"

"Just do it! You're not equipped to fight ghosts!"

At the word ghost, the coms erupted in chaos. Danny shouted at them to stay clear, he could handle it just fine, it was probably a small fry anyways. Dick followed his directions, getting behind Danny but not cowering. No, his big brother was covering his back. Sure enough, about a minute later, three large glowing vultures rose over the edge of the rooftop.

"Awe great, it's the birds with the hats! What do you want?"

"Good evening to you, too, King Phantom," one of them snickered. Danny just scowled.

"Plasmius sent us to, and I quote, 'knock some sense inta ya.'" another one said, making air quotations with the tips of his wings.

"I'll have you know I've got a thermos here with your names on it and no access to a portal. How does an extended stay in Soupland sound?" Danny waved his thermos threateningly at them, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"How does taking your little friend here hostage sound?" The last one threatened, perching his claws on Dick's shoulders. Faster than Dick could blink, Danny had spun around, ice shooting out to freeze the two other two birds, thermos pointed like a gun, while clawed fingers wrapped around the third one's neck. The bird squawked in fear.

Frost swirled dangerously around his aura, and Dick swallowed nervously in the face of its intensity. Danny's eyes were glowing a furious, toxic green, and even though the glare wasn't directed at him, he could feel its anger. Dick had seen him like this at the warehouse, sure. But now, this close, Dick truly understood the sheer power that Danny possessed, the majesty that was this eldritch creature in front of him. Somehow, all he felt in his presence was safe.

Danny growled at the ghost clutching at Nightwing, squeezing until the talons loosened.

"Why did Vlad send you?" He questioned. Absently, Dick thought he reminded him of Bruce in interrogation mode.

"He's mad some other guy adopted you or something, the same usual psycho spiel!"

"What's he planning!"

"I don't know! He was going on about how you're supposed to be his son and was throwing things. He wanted us to come rough up you and your new family. He's real mad, but that's all we know, I swear!"

It was silent for a moment while Danny absorbed the information. He regarded the vulture with cold eyes but didn't release him. He should have known Vlad would try something like this. His adoption wasn't super public but it wasn't like it was a secret either, so he'd been bound to find out. Most ghosts respected him too much as King now to threaten anyone Danny considered family, but Vlad always had his ways. He'd have to take care of it without getting the others involved.

Making up his mind, he hit the button on his thermos, sucking up the frozen ghosts and the ice along with it before swinging it around and shoving the end on the last one's beak, trapping him too. Dick sagged in relief once they were gone and Danny made a fuss about checking his shoulders to make sure he wasn't injured.

"Phantom, what was that about!" Bruce's voice was strained over the coms, likely because he didn't know what to do or how to help. Damn, Danny had forgotten that the others could hear them. At the time it had been a brilliant idea; Danny infusing the coms with ectoplasm meant that not only could Danny use them without causing interference, but they were now some of the most secure lines of communication on earth. There went his plan to keep his family out of it.

"Just some unfinished business," Danny replied, trying to sound unbothered. "The hostiles have been apprehended, and there are no injuries. We're good to continue patrolling."

Dick eyed him skeptically.

"Absolutely not. Turn in for the night you two, we'll debrief at the end of patrol," was Batman's stern order.

"No way, more are bound to show up-"

"Which is why you'll need to teach us how to fight them. We'll need you level headed for that, Phantom. Head back to the cave. We'll talk later."

Danny pouted. He could be level headed and still finish patrol! He could! At least that's what he told himself while he clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. Dick put a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was cold.

"Why don't we have Agent A make us some hot chocolate and we'll tuck in for a movie while we wait for the others," he suggested. The ghost searched his brother's face, seeing concern even underneath his domino.

"Fine," Danny conceded. "But I get to pick the movie."

By the time the others had gotten back to the manor Danny was curled up on the couch, chilly toes tucked underneath his brother's thigh and hands curled around a warm mug while the credits for James Cameron's Avatar rolled on the TV. Damian reached over the back of the couch and gave Danny's shoulder a squeeze, pulling him from his post hot coco daze. They had a meeting to get started.

~~•○•~~

As everyone settled around the meeting table in the cave, Damian made a beeline to the seat next to Danny. He would never admit to anyone that he'd been jealous that Danny had been sent out with Richard. Logically, he knew there was no real reason for Brother to come with Father and himself. He wasn't getting dethroned as Robin, and he had enough experience that Father could trust Danny out with a patrol partner. Still, he'd wanted to be there for his first experience patrolling as a member of the family. After the events of the evening, he wished even more he'd been there.

He'd heard of this Vlad before, and never in a good light, though he knew nothing more than that Danny did not like him. It was clear he'd been a source of great stress before he had come to them. Damian was frustrated that he couldn't be there to put their assailants in their place. It looked as though Danny had never mentioned Vlad to anyone else. Damian didn't know if he was proud or concerned by that. Instead of voicing his thoughts on the matter, he leaned in close to Danny's ear to whisper.

"Are you sure we're not blood related?" Damian asked with a smirk.

"What?" Danny whispered back, confused.

"When you were questioning the, what were they, birds? You sounded like Father." Danny turned to blink at him, trying to process the comment. "It is a compliment, Danny."

"Oh!"

"What are you two whispering about?" Tim asked from across the table. He'd leaned one hand onto the table with the other on his hip like an amused mother who'd caught her children conspiring.

"It's none of your concern, Drake." Danny chuckled and shrugged at him, miming zipping his lips shut.

"Alright, mission report, Phantom," Bruce interrupted, approaching the table and throwing a folder down. "What was tonight about?" Danny took a deep breath to keep himself calm.

"An old thorn in my side. The vulture ghosts were sent by a guy who used to bother me back in Amity Park. Had this crazy idea that if he killed my family, he could have me all to himself as some little heir to his evil empire. Seems he heard about my adoption."

Bruce frowned deep at that. So he was a threat to be concerned about. Good thing he'd done some research on ghost weapons then. He tapped the folder.

"If he'll be sending more ghosts to attack us, then we need to know how to fight them. I've taken the liberty of doing some research on weaponry. DalvCo is willing-"

"Absolutely not!" Danny stopped him short. Bruce barely stopped himself from groaning. It had been a long night, and now was not the time to be argumentative.

"We need weapons. This isn't up for discussion."

"That wasn't a request, Bruce. As High King of the Infinite Realms, I forbid my family from doing business with DalvCo and, subsequently, Vlad 'Plasmius' Masters, who owns it." Bruce's face contorted with understanding after his words. The others were quick to catch on. He heard Dick grumble about how the name wasn't even clever, and it made Danny smirk.

"Besides," Danny continued, a sly grin overtaking his face. His teeth were a little too sharp in his mouth. "I have a much better plan. Tim, how do you feel about mad science?"

Tim's eyes gleamed, and his grin, teeth less sharp and far more human, matched Danny's.

"You can build weapons?" Damian guessed next to him. Danny glowed with pride.

"Of course I can, I'm Daniel Fenton-Wayne, after all!"

~~•○•~~

Meanwhile, in Soupland

"I told you we shoulda just told him what was up, then got outta there."

"How was I supposed to know he was gonna ice you two?"

"Oh, please, the ice was tame. He souped us! He said he doesn't have access to a portal and he souped us!"

"That's what we get for threatening someone close to our King."

"Exactly, we shouldn'ta done that. We're too old for this!"

"I may be old, but I'm not deaf. Stop shouting in my ear, loud mouth!"

"Well, then get your wing outta my face, flabby feathers!"

"In case you haven't noticed, IT'S FROZEN!"

"We coulda been on a tropical southern island by now if it weren't for that Plasmius jerk pitting us against Phantom."

"Yeah!"

"Yeeaah!"

"We should work for the King from now on."

[teriri-sayes]

TCF Author Q&A (Quick Summary)

Ridi, one of the Korean publishers of TCF/LCF, released an exclusive Q&A with Yoo Ryeo Han, the author of TCF, as a special feature for the release of the Korean ebook version of TCF.

The ebook has 5 volumes, spanning chapters 1-117 of Part 1. It costs around 12,960 won. The Q&A can only be viewed if you buy the ebooks.

Since the Q&A isn't publicly available for free, I won't post a full translation of it. Just a quick summary of it.

***

Q: How do you write the entire story? A: Set the overall flow, and write the details as I write. Ending has already been decided.

Q: Easiest or most difficult character to create a setting? A: Easiest - none. Most difficult - Choi Han.

Q: Character that changed the most from the initial setting? A: Alberu. Supposed to be an insignificant villain, but changed to someone who talks well with Cale when I came up with the glib tongue trait.

Q: Writer's block solution? A: Just write. Eventually, I become immersed and get ideas.

Q: Most important focus when planning the story? A: The characters. I like them to feel alive.

Q: Cat owner? A: Sadly, I'm not a cat mom.

Q: Writing routines? A: I write in the morning.

Open previous chapter

Play a puzzle game while listening to fave entertainment program

Choose music that suits the mood

Start writing

Q: Stress relievers? A: Before, eating. Now, weight lifting in the gym.

Q: Main characters's MBTI? A: Cale is an "I." I never thought about the others.

Q: Author's MBTI? A: Between INFJ and ISFJ. A relaxed J.

Q: Character you want to be a friend? A: Beacrox - he cooks delicious food Cale - he buys good meat Not CH because I hate strenuous exercise

Q: Modern AU of characters? A:

Raon: Kindergarten student On, Hong: Elementary school students Cale: Workaholic dreaming of a slacker life Choi Han: Fencer Alberu Crossman: Young CEO of the company Cale works in Rosalyn: Youngest professor Lock: High school student Ron: Doctor Beacrox: Chef Eruhaben: Building owner who runs a convenience store in his building and buys snacks for Raon, On, and Hong every day

Q: Character that makes you feel bad and care about because they're in pain? A: Lock. Lock-centric arc soon.

Q: Similarities with Cale? A: Doing nothing while resting and lying down.

Q: Best character line? A: Not a character line, but a sentence - "But it's worth a try." (Teriri: This sentence can be found on the first chapters of both Parts 1 and 2.)

Q: Fave scene? A: Raon Miru naming scene.

Q: Happiest scene? A: Cale coughing blood... When Cale and his friends are eating and resting.

Q: Most difficult to write scene? A: The past of the characters.

Q: How many chapters from start to end? A: No comment because I always get it wrong...

Q: Work environment? A: Write alone with background music. But no public places.

Q: What songs do you listen to? A: Pop songs.

Ed Sheeran – I See Fire

Sia – Alive

Sia – Floating Through Space

Keala Settle – This Is Me

Naomi Scott – Speechless

AKMU – Chantey

Ahn Ye Eun – Sailing

Younha – Oort Cloud

Q: Most important character setting? A: Disposition, way of life, goals, and atmosphere they exude.

Q: Setting that reflects author's preference? A: The Indestructible Shield.

Q: Scene you want to write the most? A: Has not come out yet.

Q: Do you like dumplings? A: I love them to the point my family is amazed that I'm not tired of it.

Q: You like misunderstandings, so are you a misunderstood person? A: No. I'm far from it.

Q: Snacks you eat when writing? A: Lots of water. I eat food during breaks.

***

And that's all. If you want to read the full Q&A and legally support the author, you can buy the ebooks on Ridi. It's only around 10 USD if you convert Korean won. Link here: https://ridibooks.com/books/111048924

However, you can't use Google Translate or screenshot it, so your solution is to have two devices. One has the ebook (either in PC view or in Ridi app), and the other device has the Google Translate app installed so you can use the camera to translate the text... Yeah, that's what happened to me. 🥲

[soraviie]

they told you to go and you did.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: heavy angst ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ c/w: mention of mental illness, implied emotional cheating, falling out of love, smoking

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: If you'd still talk, you'd ask him if "disappointment" is the right word. It's not pain. It's actually hard to describe what is this familiar pang, the stab that almost feels like a bruise made yesterday. It's not pain. It's the sad realization in your heart of hearts that this would happen eventually. It's a disappointment because once, just this once you allowed yourself to believe it'd be different. And you were wrong. Or rather you were right all along. He's just like that and you're you and the rest is a story that writes itself.

Picking yourself up is hard work, hence perhaps why they call it falling for someone. Falling is not a threat, people fall all day long but a fall from the last step of stairs no matter how scary is not lethal but falling in love, unlike a blunder through the dark, is getting up into a skyscraper and then placing all the trust that the other person will provide a mat big enough to cushion the fall. But he had pulled your safety net away. You'll rebuild yourself, from scratch if needed but some part of your trust in all people will forever be cracked. If a forever person becomes temporary...it's a bizarre, ungainly feeling that unevens your footing and makes for many, many quiet afternoons spend in the company of your lonesome, staring out through the windows and thinking was it always meant to end like this.

"You were supposed to be there," you breathed out, shaking. Out of anger, out of cold, who knows.

"And I said I'm sorry," he growls back, shoving the laying laundry into the washing machine.

"Sorry? "Sorry" is not going to cut it! For weeks - weeks! - I've asked you, I begged you to be there! It was one of the most important events in my life!"

"What do you want me to do here?" Namjoon asks, exasperated and the wrinkle between his eyebrows mars his features into someone...unrecognizable. A stranger almost. Since when have you had to beg to be heard?

"I don't know," you reply truthfully but slowly something in your gut begins to work. Why are you feeling like the villain? You shouldn't be.

You shouldn't be is the chief thought.

"Do you even care about me?"

"What?"

The look in his eyes...you know, you just know, he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand this profound feeling of being tired. Being proven right that, in the end, you will always have this - begging to be heard and understood and it's tiring. It's draining the soul right in front of his eyes, ones which do not see the obvious.

"Do you even care about me?"

He scoffs.

"Take a walk so you clear your head and don't ask stupid questions."

In hindsight, a very small part of you is grateful. The comment was cruel and cut like the end of a sharpened knife but it gave you a leeway. It gave you the thought that if you had to go, you didn't have to come back.

And it's like a bit of fresh air after that. Dizzying, confusing, the feeling of being lost in a way never leaving but you're finding your legs so to speak. You didn't owe him anything, there is no legal law that would force you to explain. You walked right out. A walk to never return, a walk to self re-discovery. You eat what you like, you go where you like and when you feel like dying because there your lover is not on the other side of the bed, you turn around and pretend he was never there.

He was after all rarely there, to begin with.

Right or wrong, who cares, you could just leave and while you're alone, at least you don't have to beg. At least, you understand even if it's yourself.

YOONGI: Lillies, as Yoongi finds out, are not long-lived flowers. They fall most often in clumps of petals. Not elegant and refined like those in drawings but dropping almost half of themselves in one swift move. In one second, losing nearly all they had, remaining then barren and partly lifeless. He didn't know enough about flowers to know when exactly are they pronounced dead. But he'll be here. He'll be here because he's done nothing else but watch them shed, clump by clump.

"I told you," he'd said with a smile of all things. A cold, mirthless smile but still. "I told you it'd be hard, that you wouldn't be able to handle it."

"That's...that's not it all," you deny and maybe you hadn't been lying. All he knows is that the fear had gripped him so hard he couldn't even breathe then.

"No, it is what it is," he'd cut back sharply, decisive, leaving no room to argue because if you'd argue you'd do the same magic you'd done when he first fell in love, he'd listen and do everything exactly how you want it. He didn't want to listen at that moment, he'd just wanted to be angry.

"Then go, just go. Go back 'cause I know you want to."

Tears rose on your waterline and suddenly he felt like a bad guy which in turn, of course, made him more vicious.

"You're being cruel," you breathed faintly. "You're just being cruel."

He scoffed harshly.

"I'm just being honest. Face it, you can't handle being with me," a pause. Critical hit. Cruelty for cruelty's sake. "You can't handle much at all."

And if he had even a little bit of a brain left he'd see the change. The exact moment where you fell out of love with him and it happened just then.

You took a step back, breathed in exactly once, calmly, sombre even.

"Okay," is all you said and unbeknownst to him, that would end up as the last thing you'd say to him. "Okay" is what could kill love - a supposedly unkillable thing.

The flowers are what he brought to ask for forgiveness which would not be granted. There was no next time, no do over, no apology. You'd been long gone when he wisened up to his own words and now he has a vase of old Lillies, wilting on his desk. He reaches to straighten one of the last petals but in its frailty, it just falls. It falls down, down, down and lands on his desk. He puts his hand away. The clock ticks away.

"Okay," he mutters to himself and then sinks into silence.

JIN: "They're my parents," he says for the thousandth time, driving half-blind through the dark.

"So what?!" you exclaimed. "They don't get to say all those things about my family. About me!"

"And I already told you, I warned you that they...they would be like that! They're old! Different."

"That's not being different! That's being a dick."

His eyes glinted and you flinched. You'd never fought with Jin before. Not like this certainly. But whenever you thought of forgiving him, it all came back even clearer. How he just stood there, silent, staring at his plate like a small boy would when they called you a gold digger, your family nothing but mud-trodden scammers. The spoilt rotten apple of the bad seeds. And your lover, your boyfriend, your one true fairytale prince had bowed his head in compliance.

"Careful," he growls, hands tightening around the wheel. "Mind your tongue."

He could slap you and it'd be less bitter.

"Did your mother mind your tongue?" you asked sharply, suddenly yanked harshly forth as he drove a foot through the brakes.

"I'll give you this one last opportunity," he spits and it awakens a heinous part of yourself. Or rather it extends. It extends from the scenery of not even an hour into the past, when you'd sat by the dining table listening to one hurled insult after the next. His father had been "the others", his mother and now he himself. It's him vs you. And that's...

...that's just not someone you could ever touch without shuddering in hate.

"One last chance to stop throwing a fuss. To stop disrespecting my family and myself."

"I can't disrespect it," you open your mouth, weirdly proud. It's cathartic to hate at times. "It would imply I've held any this evening."

His jaw makes an audible sound when it clamps shut. You'd hurt deep, you'd cut it where it hurts. Good, so had he.

"Get out," he hisses, clearly fighting hard to reign in his temper. "Get out of my car now!"

You do and afterwards, he speeds off, tires screeching against the cement road, fumes, in time, evaporating into the atmosphere. You touch the necklace, his gift, on your neck. Feels more like a chain now. You take it away, frown and allow yourself to think.

Gold diggers, scammers, evildoers and nothing but lowlier of the low they had said into your face. You remember your own mother's face, proud and happy, then tired after working long hours just to put food on the table. She'd be heartbroken about this, she'd cry.

And no one could ever make your mother cry. Guided by a sudden impulse you throw the necklace away and it glistens once under the streetlights.

Jin's car disappears over the horizon and despite lingering, you see no point in going after it. You could go home.

The thought fills you with comfort.

You could just go home.

Your mother picks up after one ring.

"Hey, I'm just letting you know, I'll sleep over, is that okay?"

Your mother's voice comes frazzled but she attempts to make it soothing. No, she should never meet those people. Those people who would hate her without a reason, who raised a son you fell in love with. Past tense.

"Of, course, it's okay," then, softly, cautious. "Did it go awry? What about your boyfriend?"

You glimpse over your shoulder. JIn is long gone. There's nothing but the dark so you turn and walk the opposite way.

"There's no boyfriend anymore," you reply, cooly but even so few, traitor tears rush into your eyes and it gets hard to breathe. "But I still got you."

"The porch lights will be on," after a moment she explains kindly and you nod. "I'll be waiting."

HOSEOK: "I just think...this will be the best of us."

That's really all you remember. At the time, the words fell distant like coming from another room. His damn present, a simple present you'd saved over the course of the summer was burning against your leg, distracting you, maybe saving you in a way. If you'd heard a flaw he had named as to why would you deserve to suddenly be broken up with, you didn't remember it. He'd been doing so well, being so good, practising and making history and you loved him so much you just wanted to make him smile. He'd been so stressed. So empty and removed. And when you heard his call, his tentative invitation to a restaurant you thought must be destiny, he must be thinking it too, you needed to be closer together. Reality... the reality was as always much different than you imagined in your head.

You'd sat politely, being really good, not quite listening due to the bracelet sitting in your pocket like a carcass, but you hadn't made a fuss. Should you have? Or did you do the right thing?

Whatever should or should not have happened will take place in the multiverse, in the infinitude of other more pleasant realities, this one was yours.

"You should cry," your friend suggests, with a frown of worry. But you can't hear her also. Flinging the pillows left and right, you try to find the damn thing. The receipt is nowhere. You couldn't have just flung it into the trash, right?

"Honestly, fuck this guy."

Right, fuck Hoseok. But when you remember him, you don't suddenly learn how to hate him. That was...that went against everything you knew.

"Just please go," he pleaded, you'd open your mouth to at least give him the bracelet. It was after all a present. Why had you been so hyper-focused about it? You can't remember that also.

"Just go. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

But what it did have to be? What did you do? Or not do? What was so wrong with you that he kicked you away?

"He left you for his career," your friend scoffed. Her pride was your pride and vice versa but at the moment you couldn't even appreciate her indignance. The receipt was gone. You did not have it. And as such the bracelet, his bracelet, the one you worked so had to buy for your own money, could not be ridden of.

"Plain and simple. You were distracting him, whatever that means. What a prick."

You had not thought the same then and you didn't think it now. Coming to a stand you wonder how long will it take to unlearn someone. Hoseok must have learned it quite quickly. He'd not even spared you a glimpse as you stood there, with the bracelet in hand, suddenly turned into a parting gift not one of gratitude. If he saw it, he hadn't cared. And so you went, as he asked, clutching the bracelet in your palm. Hoseok must be a quick learner, you reckoned, leaving the bracelet to lay on your nightstand table.

JIMIN: "Already back?" a neighbour, a smarmy twenty-something who thinks he's just the thing because he has a couple of tattoos on his arm, asks. You light up the cigarette already put between your lips and scoff in his direction.

"Yeah. Now quit hanging around in the stairway, you look like a predator," with that you enter your apartment. It's disgusting to smoke indoors, that you admit, but right now it was time to think and smoking for some reason made your head clearer. Navigating through the dark, you stumbled out into the balcony, breathing out a sigh of relief. Flicking the ash into the makeshift ashtray you thought and thought and thought.

"When?! When will you be ready?!" he'd practically screamed. You hated when people raised their voice and he knew that but he still did it. A fact you wouldn't forgive anyone but this was...Jimin and he'd been the exception for a long time. Longer than he should have.

"I don't know! When we got together, I told you I'd be difficult! I'm...ill!" recalling how your lip had wobbled, you sneered to yourself. One cigarette down but you bought a new pack so there was plenty.

"Stop using that as an excuse!" he'd snarled, fists curling out of anger. You had thought then that if he truly wanted to marry you, he'd stay true to his word to be understanding. Of understanding that your mind did not always work the same way most people were used to, it did things, often ones you couldn't grasp full control of, like fear, fearing everything and most of all being yelled at for this very same fear.

"It's not an excuse!" you shrieked. "It's the answer! When someone has a cold, do you reprimand them for coughing? Why is this illness any different?!"

You were objectively hard to love if mental illness was easy it wouldn't be an illness. You required work, work done by yourself and by your partner and you had told him that, you'd told him fair and square, come clean with all that you were and Jimin had promised to love you all the same. He was, it seems, a beautiful kind of liar.

"You won't ever be ready," he'd continued, a hard scowl warping his features. "You know why? Because you hate yourself so much you can't even wrap your head around the idea of not self-sabotaging yourself for once."

And it was the truth. Objectively speaking. But you didn't mind the truth. It could be harsh and unapologetic but you could swallow it down, just not cruelty. Anything but cruelty. Coming from the one man on earth you thought could not be cruel. See what you meant by beautiful? Beautiful, convincing, angel of a liar.

"And I can't handle it anymore. I can't handle your..." he raised his hands out of frustration, letting the fists rise to his own chest and shake there before it happened.

"You're just too much. So just go away because you're just too much for me."

Pushing the bud of the cigarette against the glass jar, you put out the last light on the balcony. It's dark now and you sit, arms crossed, still thinking. You know what to do, you'd done it plenty of times before but...you just thought, you assumed, had the delusion that..he'd be the one, you know. That he'd be...different. But the nature of liars is to lie, you suppose.

TAEHYUNG: It is sad and horrifying to realize that you're becoming one of those couples. Those couples that do not talk, that sit on the bed silently and sullenly, waiting for it to be over, couples who did not touch each other, who forgot each other's bodies, voices and minds. Those couples who you always looked on with pity, wondering to yourself why didn't they just break it off. What was the point?

But the point was that, of course, once upon a time you loved Taehyung and you think he loved you too. You almost saw him, the younger him, the one that charmed you with the promise of timeless romance only to let the very same time deteriorate it away. As you walked up to the cafe, you saw him there, laughing with a friend you did not know he had. They're both laughing in fact, clearly enjoying their time and you can't help but feel like a creep, like an onlooker peeking into the lives of a happy couple even if it's your boyfriend sitting there. He'd brought them flowers. You don't remember when was the last time he'd given your flowers. The promise was every Wednesday, the reality was sometimes after the first six months, anniversaries after two years, never after five.

He pulls the chair closer to the friend. You saw the other person's blush in the candlelight and then with even more horrifying realization, you grasp that you're the other person. The one brushed to the side when they're of no other use.

"Those are pretty flowers," you reckoned, mostly just to start a conversation. An ice breaker for a lover, strange isn't it?

"I guess," he offers a non-committal grunt.

"Should I meet you after work? We could go somewhere?" you almost sounded hopeful then. How naive.

"Don't bother," he says, not quite even looking at you, more so focused on the mirror to fix the tie the other other person was twirling between their fingers. "I'll be busy and late tonight. Just go home."

Standing on the street and passively watching your love slip away, you figure you'll do just that. You won't be one of those people, you thought, standing straighter and leaving the window side, you won't cry yourself to sleep, you won't find someone else's scent on his shirt, you won't have your heart any more broken. You'll just go home.

And Taehyung was not home anymore.

But it's okay, you tell yourself, stumbling unsteadily through the neon-lit streets, you'll find a new one. You'll be okay.

JUNGKOOK: You used to love his jokes, his confidence, his assuredness that you were meant to be. But after some time, you don't quite know when, it stopped being funny the way he brushed off your worries, always so assured that in the end, it'll work out. That no matter what you'll forgive him anything.

You stopped loving his jokes.

And you stopped loving his confidence.

And you stopped loving him.

You just wanted for him to listen but he was so smug, so assured that you wouldn't leave. You just wanted for him to listen just once.

But he never did.

"If I'm so horrible, then just leave," he tossed over his shoulder, tugging harshly on Bam's leash. "Just leave!"

But he did it first, slamming the door behind and dragging Bam with him.

Maybe it's selfish, really childish, quite unhealthy but in a way also victorious. You drag your clumsily arranged suitcase, stubborn. You miss him. But a him that's not even here. Can a person die while still living?

But even if it's selfish, childish and unhealthy, it becomes easier with the next step. You're just leaving, just going. You still miss him, you miss Bam and others, and all the funny toys on his shelves, and his kitchen towels and the laughter on Fridays and movies on Mondays but even more you miss yourself. The street is long and you wonder where you'll end up next, once upon a time, it brought you to Jungkook and now it'll take you away from him. You can find plenty of sadness about it but not enough regret to turn around. Whoever's fault it was, even if it truly was a fault, it doesn't matter now. It's over, it was good for a while and now it's over. You're free to go where you want and so is Jungkook and when enough time passes you know you'll wish him nothing but the best.

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