#why you gotta shatter their relationship just....ALL over like that

[blckbrrybasket]

Run, girl, run

Artrick x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1k

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Art’s grandma comes over after you and Patrick spend the night

Art's grandma was the sweetest woman you'd ever known. She was the salt of the earth, raising Art to bring only kindness and love into the world. He always tried his best to please her, and for the most part he kept his soft heart even after starting college and while keeping Patrick around him. 

You balanced the two boys out. You kept Patrick in check, while also encouraging Art to loosen up a bit and enjoy his life outside of tennis. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, no longer bound by the rules of parent figures, urged on by your support. Most days with the three of you were like a dream, always helping the other to be the best they could be. Not that other people knew.

You all decided to keep your relationship private, not wanting outside judgments or prying eyes.

So no one else was aware, including Art’s grandma. Unfortunately for you, Art's grandma didn't always call before stopping by. She meant well, but her surprise visits meant quick texts from Art to make yourself scarce for the day. You always listened; even when Patrick begged you to mess with Art, you insisted on giving them space.

Maybe that’s why he got some sick satisfaction that Art's grandma had unexpectedly arrived for a visit while he was still half-dressed in Art's bed with you. The past night had been great, fucking until you were on the brink of exhaustion, and yet somehow Patrick was already energetic again in the morning. Art was usually a little slower to getting up, wanting nothing more than to drift back to sleep cradled in your arms.

However, the single knock on his door shattered the peaceful morning's atmosphere. Art groaned into his pillow, barely lifting his head to call out, “What?” A second of silence passed when his grandma’s sweet voice answered, “Art, sweetie? Is that you? I tried to call but I couldn’t wake you up.” She laughed softly, unaware of how fast Art shot out of bed.

He toppled over the side of the mattress, shoulder slamming into the thin carpet. Art hissed in pain, wasting no time when he popped back up. “Guys, you gotta go - now!” he whisper-yelled, shaking you awake. “Honey, are you alright?” Art winced at his grandma’s concerned voice. “I’m alright grandma!” Art replied, eyes darting between you and the door. 

His head swiveled back around to face you as you raised your head, blinking away the last traces of sleep to take in the scene. “Up!” You let out a silent sigh, looking around in confusion. Art was already moving on to scramble, grabbing the clothes off the floor. “What..?” You asked.

Patrick leaned over your bare shoulder with a wicked grin, having been silently awake for a while. “Art’s grandma is here,” he whispered in your ear with cruel amusement. He laughed quietly at Art’s frantic movements, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. You sat up with little urgency, the comforter rolling off your body. 

Art’s panic fell into background noise as Patrick slipped his shirt over you, giving you more coverage than just your underwear. A quick kiss silenced his mirth as you took in poor Art's panic. You turned away from Patrick when the sound of Art’s window opening drew you back to the present. 

Art came back into view, whipping around to face you with an expression full of worry. He grabbed your face for a desperate goodbye peck. “I'm so sorry,” Art apologized profusely, knowing there was no other way out than the window. You understood - there wasn't any other option with his grandma right outside the door. 

You shrugged, not caring all that much as you kissed him back, hands smoothing his curls down. “We get it,” Patrick mused. “You’re throwing us out like some hookups, no don’t worry,” he laughed as Art shoved his chest. “We get it!”

Patrick pecked Art’s cheek in an apology, ignoring his eye roll, before helping you to the end of the bed. His hand smoothly slid around your waist to guide you to the window. “Ladies first,” he said ‘gallantly’. Patrick watches you swing a leg over the sill as you snicker. “How chivalrous,” you goad.

Your hands find his, holding tightly as he helps lower you to the ground. It’s a gentle landing, greatly helped by Patrick who goes to follow suit the moment your feet find purchase. His landing is…a lot less graceful, shoved outside by Art. He could only hold his grandma off for so long, excusing that he was taking so long because he was simply getting dressed, deciding to hurry it along.

With a yelp, Patrick practically swan dove from the window, a mess of flailing limbs. He lands in a painful heap to the side of you, groaning. You could only sigh as you lent a hand to pull him upright once more. “Patrick,” you nearly whine in annoyance.

He wasn’t the last to come out though, your clothes raining down on him, adding insult to injury. “Seriously?” Patrick muttered, brushing himself off indignantly. You were all lucky that Art only lived on the first floor. 

Despite the exit, you couldn't help but laugh at Patrick's disheveled state, the window slamming shut after another apology from Art. Your giggles bubbled over as you freed him from the shorts caught on his ear and shoulder.

Patrick only huffed, bundling the clothes unceremoniously.  It was a rough start to the morning and you could see his thinly veiled annoyance. Wanting to lighten the mood, you leaned in for a quick kiss. His furrowed eyebrows softened some as his lips pressed to yours.

“Come on, first one back to my dorm gets head,” you challenged, lips brushing against his. Patrick's eyes lit up at the offer. In an instant, he gripped your hand and took off in a sprint across campus. You laughed with glee as the wind rushed past, any lingering stress melting away by your joint euphoria.

[zipper-dawn]

so. good omens 2.

top notch. loved it. so good.

imma go cry now

[liketolovexx]

James Potter is easily the biggest of the three. He’s just so muscular and strong, but in a soft way. He’s got a soft layer of fat protecting his muscles, and I imagine he’s very freckled too. Not sure why. He is the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. He likes being the big spoon, and has an INCREDIBLE weak spot for getting his hair played with. Like, it’s literally orgasmic to him. He grew up with everything. Love, money, etc, etc, so he’s probably the touchiest (at first), and is all over you from the start. Also, I think he often forgets his strength and squeezes u too hard and you’ve gotta be like “uh.. Jamie..? You’re.. you’re kinda squeezing-“ and he just puts an arm over ur mouth like “shut up, baby. Sorry. Love you.” He’s adorable.

Remus Lupin is just a normal sized boy, and runs hot like a radiator. Honestly. He doesn’t even need all those knitted sweaters and warm coffee because he just is the embodiment of autumn warmth. He’s littered with silver scars from his lycanthropy, so when u see him naked for the first time, he’s so self conscious. He’d have his arms wrapped around himself, shielding his scars from your view, and you’ve got to prize his hands off of himself. “I’m sorry.. i know they’re not.. appealing.. it’s…” and you’re just like “woah, rem, what? You’re fucking beautiful.” You say that, and he’s yours. He’s not used to love like James is, but he’s probably the one to start getting cuddly. I imagine it’s winter and he’s reading in the common room, and ur shivering because by some miracle the fire isn’t on. He looks up from his book, admiring you for a while and then lifts up his sweater. You SHOOT underneath it and basically curl up like a cat against his bare chest. I repeat: HE IS SO FUCKING WARM. You’d probably have an ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ moment with him at the start of your relationship though. You know when Clementine is saying she always thought she was ugly and Joel starts kissing her and saying “you’re pretty, you’re pretty, you’re pretty…” yeah, you’d be Joel and he’d be Clementine. But once he’s comfortable, he’s a fucking fiend. You’ll never be cold again, trust me.

Sirius Black is skinny and pale. Like a vampire. Endearingly. I imagine he has a nose piercing and an eyebrow piercing, and he’s all tattooed up. Will DEFINITELY get your initial on his abdomen or collarbone in swirly penmanship. Sirius will act like your best friend even when u two are dating. Bless him though, he’s so used to being hurt and abused by those that are meant to protect him that he can’t trust you at first. I think the first time he came to realise you were different is when you asked him what happened after winter break at his parent’s house, because he was being really quiet and flinching a lot which is unlike him. You cornered him in the common room when no one else was there, and asked him “hey, Siri? What’s going on, man? Tell me.” He insisted, “I’m fine. I swear, sweetheart.” You went to tuck his black curls behind his ear but he flinched, which shattered your heart. You said “Sirius, please. I need to know you’re okay, because I need you safe.” And hearing that, he broke down into your arms. From then on, he’s always in your arms. He adores comforting you, because he’s a big brother himself and so he has the instinct, you know? But man, does he fucking adore being in your arms. He WILL curl up beside you wherever you’re sitting or lying, and is always rubbing against you. He always says “I can’t help it, babe, it’s just the dog in me.” Which he seems to find HILARIOUS. Oh yeah, and he literally can’t sleep unless you’re the big spoon or his head is on your chest or in your neck. He likes to feel safe and protected for once, and you do that for him to no end. He’s THE 70s rocker stereotype, and he loves having matching nail polish with you. You’re best friends as well as lovers.

Sorry for yapping to no end guys!!!

[guiltyreverie]

Lollipops and cigarettes

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader

Content tags: established friends, slytherin!reader, no angst (i deserve a medal for this lmao)

Warning: mentions of drugs, suggestive content but no smut, just heavy foreplay

Prompt: "I know I signed up for this and all, but... if I die, it's still your fault and I will not hold back on blaming you." (source)

Summary: Mattheo thinks it‘s fun to explore the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night

A/N: boy, the way I hop from one Riddle to another - i can fix him ykyk ok but these are shorter than other fics since theyre part of the prompt thingy I’m doing and I figured I should get started

Word count: 1.9k

You would kill him - you will kill him - if whatever is in here doesn’t kill you first and then you’ll kill yourself for letting him persuade you in the first place.

Mattheo disregarded many things, like his school work, attendance, relationships but you gotta leave it to him - he knew how to push your buttons and when he said he’d take Amara from the year below with him if you weren’t joining him, you snapped and agreed - looking at nothing but pitch blackness and the occasional rustle - that always scared the living shits out of you - you thought to yourself, he should’ve taken her.

You weren’t the type to get frightened easily but the eerie dread that filled you once you were so deep in you couldn’t even see Hogwarts anymore it was over and you almost jumped at every sound, your hand subconsciously reaching out for Mattheo only for him to give you the most shit-eating grin and tease your anxious behavior - Salazar knows why you like this idiot in the first place.

The unsteady path shaped by the trees seemed never ending and incredibly unnerving, even if you tried to see the end it was just pitch black.

“Come on, princess, ”, he pokes your side with his elbow and nudges his head forward, “who knows what’s waiting for us out there.”, he smirks and you scoff loudly and hit him, resulting in the leaves rustling in the trees and crows suddenly emerging with loud ‘craws’ and you almost shit yourself.

Subconsciously you hold on tighter to him to the point your chest touches his arm.

“I hate you, by Merlin’s beard, fuck you, Riddle.”, you whisper-shout into his ear; his head turns towards yours in a matter of a second, your face was already so close to his, your noses brushed together when he turned; you could feel his breath tingling on your lips.

Shivers ran down your spine - you were used to the tension that followed almost every interaction you had with Mattheo but this? This was on a different level - the both of you were alone in the woods, your body clinging to him and now you just had to move forward, not even two inches and you’d finally know how his lips taste - you bet like a mixture of lollipops and cigarettes.

He smirks and you could feel the ghost of his touch on your lips - you will breach the distance between you guys if he isn’t going to do it.

His hand reaches out for your hair and brushes a piece of it back behind your ear and you’re finally able to make out the shadows on his face, like his scar on his nose, or the scar on his right eyebrow, from the small light of the moonshine seeping through the branches of the tree and your breath hitches - he was smiling.

You knew you liked him and you knew how it felt to like someone but nothing could’ve prepared you for the way his smile accompanied by the soft glow of the moon on his face would make your insides explode; make you feel so warm - the former coldness of the forbidden forest long forgotten.

“Fuck me yourself, babe.”, he grins and the almost fairy tale-like illusion you just created in your head shattered - this is Mattheo fucking Riddle, by Salazar you still don’t know why you like him, of course he’d make a dirty jab at you.

You were about to roll your eyes and push him away but you had a better idea in your head; your hands reach for his jawline and you start to trace it, his small beard stubbles scratching your fingertips and you can see the way he gulps hard by his adams apple - his jaw clenched but a curious glint in his eyes - what are you doing? Your fingers start to trace the way down to his neck, followed by his collarbone towards his chest and abs until your fingers stop at his waistband; his eyes follow your touch in anticipation and curiosity but he hasn’t dared to utter a single word. You tug him closer towards you by his waistband and you reached up until your lips ghosted over his neck - right above the spot most girls would leave their hickeys on, you assumed it was his most sensitive spot; a few seconds later you make your way back to his ear, your lips graze his earlobe and you can hear his breath hitch and you smile: “Don’t mind if I do.”

He sucks in a deep breathe and gives you a warning glance: “Fuck, princess, unless you actually plan to follow up with that, don’t tease me like that.”

“Why not?”, you smile knowingly, Riddle might not be interested in romantic relationships but you knew the effect you could have on a man.

“I don’t think you want me to leave you alone right here because I have a hard business to take care of”, he glances down towards the dent on his crotch, your hand was still on his waistband and you let out a small giggle, “do you?”

“Let me take care of it, then?”, you give him your best doe eyes while your hands slowly pull on his waistband and you can almost see him come undone at the mere idea of you touching him - it made you feel powerful, hopeful and needy for him.

“Princess,”, his eyes darkened, he seemed to finally snap out of his trance and before you know it your back was pushed against a tree, Mattheo’s arms were wrapped around your waist and his forehead was leaning against yours, he was breathing heavily, as if he could barely contain himself - he looked at you like a starved prisoner, ready to finally devour you after he’s been denied for so long and god did it turn you on.

“Tell me off.”, he whispers against your lips, you start to wonder if you have to beg him to kiss you and you shake your head.

“Kiss me, Riddle.”

His lips immediately meet yours and you close your eyes leaning closer into him, wrapping your arms around his neck while he pulls you even closer by your waist. Earlier he looked like he could devour you and right now, he is, his one arm went up to your head and he started to slightly tug at your hair, not hard enough for it to hurt but hard enough to make your head go back and for you to let out an involuntary moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”, he breathes against the outer corner of your mouth and starts leaving sloppy kisses there as well.

His hands roam around your entire body until they find the back of your thighs and he starts to knead them slowly and you let out a small gasp at the sudden sensation of his big hands around your thighs, you were growing hotter and hotter, you wanted - scratch that- you needed this man, the tension in your core only growing stronger.

He lifts you up by your thighs, his lips never leaving your body, it felt he like was trying to engrave this feeling into his mind, and leans you against the wall, your crotch is right against his, your needy core almost immediately starts to rub against his hardened member and you let out a whimper.

He gently bites you in the neck and licks your most sensitive spot and you moan out his name.

“Baby”, he groans, “moan my name again”, his hands meet your ass and he gives it a firm squeeze and you moan out his name once more.

Just when he started to take off his shirt an alarm went off and you opened your eyes hazily.

“Fuck”, Mattheo curses and immediately puts his sweatshirt back on.

You have to take a deep breath to get back from the high you just felt and you give Mattheo a concerned look and breathily say: “What’s wrong?”

“Theo texted, there’s an emergency and they’re gathering all the students in the great hall.”, he bites his lips and you can’t help but almost completely disregard what he’s currently saying and only want to feel his lips on yours again.

“You’re staring.”

“Can’t blame me.”

He chuckles: “Now, princess”, he grabs your hand and starts pulling you back to where you had come from, “we gotta hurry before we get into big trouble for sneaking out.”, he gives you one last glance, and the current situation finally seems to dawn onto you and you start to freak out.

“Salazar, fuck, Mattheo, we’re so going to get a whole year of detention if they catch us.”, you bite your lip, the anxiety finally overshadowing your horny mind and you both hurry back to Hogwarts.

Out of breath you finally are inside the castle, skillfully evading any teachers or prefects and you can’t help but curse at him, the anxiety taking over - what if you’re too late?

"I know I signed up for this and all, but... if I die, it's still your fault and I will not hold back on blaming you."

“Nobody is going to kill you.”, he chuckles.

You roll your eyes: “Clearly, you haven’t met my mother.”

“I’ll just swoon her off her feet, too.”, he smirks and you pretend to gag at him.

He checks his phone: “We’re fine, Theo says, they’re still gathering all the students.”

You sigh in relief: “Theo deserves the greatest head for warning us like this.”

He turns around to face you, almost as if you’re insane, like he can’t believe your audacity, his jaw clenched: “Do I need to remind you of who’s name you moaned 30 minutes ago?”

Your eyes narrow in confusion until you finally get it and you can’t help but smirk: “I meant a joint.”

“Oh.”, he looked dumbfounded.

“You jealous, baby?”

The both of you arrive at the Great Hall and before you can enter Mattheo grabs your arm and halts you from entering.

You stare at him confused and expectantly.

“This is more than just sex to me, princess.”, he looks at you, his eyes filled with so much vulnerability you soften at his words and your inside starts to fill with joy, you had hoped this is how it would be between you guys, even if you had been fine with just staying friends as well.

“I feel the same”, you smile at him and squeeze his hand.

He smiles back and you make your way into the Great Hall, the both of you skillfully and undetected make your way to your friends and stand next to them.

When they spot you they greet you with laughter and smiles, Theo winked at the both of you and all of you waited for the roll call, all while your hand never left Mattheos grasp.

“Y’know we’ll continue later, right?”, he whispers in your ear and when you turn around you’re met with his smug grin and the brightest shining eyes in the room and you smile feeling absolutely content and you can’t wait to taste the taste of lollipops and cigarettes again.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 8:45 PM 🔞

Tags/Warnings: Adult, smut-heavy, making out, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though, Jungkook struggling hard, misunderstanding, angst with happy end, emotional smut, oral (fem. Receiving), protected sex bc this is me writing this and I teach you kids the true life lessons

Lenght: long.

AU-Masterlist

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He still can't believe your first time got interrupted by something as ridiculous as his manager calling him.

It's like a reminder that his career will always somehow wiggle itself between him and whatever happiness he tries to find outside of it- nothing ever truly personal for him, everything always meant to be well thought through so it fits into his public persona.

But he refuses to give you up, even knowing all of that.

Apologizing for it just feels.. odd now, like bringing up something awkward you did ten years ago that everyone forgot about anyway before you decided to rekindle the memory in their heads. But the problem here, right now, with you, is that he knows he should bring it up. Somehow. Because he's struggling hard to keep himself in check, even having had to embarrassingly rub one out in the shower this morning after you'd made yourself tea in his kitchen wearing nothing but a shirt and panties.

It's a problem.

He's hesitating to initiate anything now mainly because what if it happens again? He can't just put his phone on silent and ignore what could potentially always be very important calls from people who only want what's best for him in the long run- real life doesn't work like those movies where the protagonist throws it all away for his girl. He wants to, he truly does- but at the end of the day, he's also scared, because if he falls, he'll potentially take you down with him, and God knows how deep he'll fall with where he stands right now.

A drop from a height this high would shatter you inevitably, and he's sure he'd crack like delicate porcelain just as much by having to watch you suffer the consequences of his actions. You don't deserve that.

"..-ungkookie?" You try again, and he snaps out of his thought, looking at you.

"Hm?" He responds, looking at you next to him.

"I asked if you want me to cook for us tonight. Is that alright?" You wonder, and he nods, eagerly so, because of course he'd love to have you do something so domestic with him. He's always dreamed of being able to experience these things after all, despite his curse of being a public figure who's not supposed to appear unavailable. "Alright-!" You hum. "Gonna have to put pants on now though, gotta go get some groceries.." you whine under your breath as you stretch on the couch naked feet pushing against his thighs and oh, how your back arches-

No, bad brain. Not right now.

"I'll give you my card, hold on." He tries to save himself, getting up to fetch his wallet as you begin to laugh.

"Jungkook baby, I can cover some groceries, don't bother!" You argue softly, getting up as well before walking over to him. "You'll just have to survive some minutes without me, that's all." You tell him, hugging his middle as you put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Also, people would think I'm a gold digger for using a black card looking like.. well, me." You joke, as he can't help but reach out to affectionately brush some hair out your face, hands holding your cheeks.

"M'sorry." He mumbles, and you part a bit from him, serious at his tone of voice used.

"Hm? For what?" You wonder, and he sighs. Why did he bring it up now? This is going to be so awkward, he already dreads it. But now that he's put the noose around his neck, he might as well stand on the chair too.

"Yesterday. Or.. day before? Technically it was, wasn't it.." he rants, before sighing. "I hate that we.. had moment, you know, and then.. nothing. Ruined." He complains softly, and you can't help but look at him affectionately. He's such a soft soul sometimes, worries about so much that doesn't even need to be worried about.

"Jungkook, it's fine." You answer.

"Not fine-" he shakes his head. "Not fine, I- ugh, I want you, you know? Want to, but now, it's awkward and I don't know how to initiate it because every time I plan to I keep thinking of that moment he called and-" he groans in frustration, head thrown back before he looks down at you. "I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, and you laugh.

"I forgot to pack socks for this trip, that's why I'm always barefoot in your apartment here." You say, and he blinks once, twice, before he looks at you, confused but amused the same.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head for a split second and you shrug.

"Now I've made an awkward moment for myself too. We're even." You explain, and he laughs.

"Thats not how that works-" he wants to argue but he inevitably leans down to kiss you- a peck quickly deepened by you, because God knows you want him just as much. But the struggle of initiating isn't solely his alone, because you don't know how to either. All is still new with your relationship, you don't even live together at this point in time, only a week more and you'll be back home trying to figure out how to move most of your stuff to his country so you can be closer. This was all a test, after all- to see if it's worth it. If you'll be okay.

And you know now, you'll be just fine with him at your side.

"Hm I need to get going now though-" you say, trying to escape him now- but he won't let you, hands firm on the small of your back as he keeps you against him, lips chasing yours making you giggle as you lean back as far as you can. "Jungkook!" You laugh, but he just playfully bites at your neck.

"No, I'm hungry." He mumbles against your skin, and you look at him, pushing against his chest.

"Yeah that's why I have to go? Get everything to cook?" You remind him, but he shakes his head, gaze making it clear that he doesn't care for that.

"Not.. that." He tells you. "Hungry for you." He says, raising his brows and you laugh at how ridiculous he's being. How can he be both so cute but also attractive at the same time? It's truly unfair.

"You're so cute." You tease, catching him off guard to escape his grasp and run into the bedroom to get some proper pants at least. But he's faster, palm slapping flat against the wood of his door before the momentum of his move slams it into the wall with a loud noise, making both of you jump for a second before he stalks towards you.

And once the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed, you know you lost.

It's like his patience had finally snapped, his hands eagerly helping you out of his shirt, happily running his palms over your skin, warm and soft as you move around a bit to get comfortable. He sighs when his phone vibrates somewhere close- probably having fallen out of his pocket on the couch earlier, and you laugh, visibly uncaring of his misery. "Go get it." You tell him when it sounds again, and he groans out loudly as if he's in pain, angrily stomping back into the living room, where you can hear him answer the call with an annoyed tone to his voice. It surprises you when he walks back into the bedroom however, pointing to the shirt you're attempting to put back on, before he motions for you to put it back on the floor where he'd thrown it down earlier.

Just what is he thinking right now?

"Yeah, that's fine." He talks into the phone, his free hand untying the strings of your sweatpants, before he pulls on the hem, tapping your hips as if to silently ask you to lift them so he can get you out of those pants. "Not right now, but tomorrow is fine." He continues to talk to whomever is speaking to him over the phone, while simultaneously running his hand from the side of your knee, up to the hem of your underwear, the last item of clothing covering you at the moment. It's oddly exciting to see him so serious, yet clearly more focused on you than anything else.

You've never felt so adored before.

His fingers slip underneath the side of your panties, teasing you, so close yet way too far from where you'd like his hands to be most right now. And he's clearly aware of it too; if the hooded eyes and the small smirk on his lips was anything to go by. "No, right now.. I'm pretty busy. Sorry." He speaks again into the phone, thumb running over the dip between your inner thigh and your by now more than aching heat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip for a second, before the whole thing visibly seems to edge him just as much- then tent in his pants evident.

"Alright, yeah, just- text the schedule to me and I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay?" He offers into the phone, moving to stand up and search for something in the drawer of his bedside table- colorful foil package pretty obviously hinting at what he means when he's said he's currently busy. "Alright, hmhm, yup- bye." He rushes out, ending the call before he throws his phone somewhere onto the shirt you'd been wearing, his eyes rolling in an annoyed manner before he takes off his own shirt, joining you on the bed.

"Did you really hang up on him like that?" You wonder, giggling when he has to sit back to slip out of his loose grey sweats as well, jumping on one foot for a bit as his other gets stuck in the fabric for a second.

"I'm not sorry." He shakes his head, crawling closer to you on the mattress to get a hold of both sides of your panties. "I've got my hot girlfriend all pretty and ready, no one can ever blame me for being needy." He shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face before he tries to pull your underwear off. "Hey come on now!" He whines almost, a stark contrast to the tattooed, muscled appearance of him currently already flushed and fully erect, straining against the cotton of his own underwear.

"Needy." You tease, and suddenly, as if you'd pushed a button, as he suddenly pulls on the fabric with more determination, successfully getting rid of the item of clothing with a gaze that screams fake innocence. Jungkook isn't new to sex, and neither are you- but it's the first time doing it with each other, which naturally places a bit of pressure onto you.

Or maybe it usually should be like that- because somehow, it all comes naturally.

When his hand finds your heat, you're already melting underneath his gaze, no words spoken as he leans further over you, catching your lips again. Only that this time, he truly seems hungry; no longer offering you fleeting pecks but desperate kisses that try and convey just how much he wants you right now. He knows that he could never truly make it clear to you though- because he himself doesn't even know if that's possible.

He's never wanted anyone so bad.

And while usually not too fond of it, his need to prove himself as the perfect lover- emotionally and physically- makes him detach himself from you for a second, before he adjusts his position, leaning down to have you lay your legs over his shoulders, hands holding your thighs apart as he lays his mouth onto your heat.

It's an entirely new experience for you, and he knows.

But luckily, if your Impatient whining was anything to go by, you're definitely enjoying yourself as he flattens his tongue over your sensitive nerves, eyes focused on you while he has to use a little strength to keep your legs apart, especially when you grow close to your first orgasm. He's eager to see it, moving away to gain a better view before one of his hands finishes the job, gaze on you as you arch your back and come undone from his actions.

And its now that he really can't take it any longer.

"Fuck I need you." He curses under his breath, finally getting rid of the last item of clothing he still had on until now, no need to give his length any form of help to get ready for you. He can't help but groan a little under his breath at how sensitive he feels, rushing the act of wrapping the condom over as to not rile himself up too much.

After all, he wants to be inside you for his own orgasm, no matter what.

"Hm I'll go slow, ok?" He asks, and you nod, hands reaching out for him, making him chuckle. "You're cute." He comments, earning a roll of your eyes in return. He lets it go for now- giving you a pass this time, but only because be truly feels needy now.

He'd love to tease you a little, make you all whiny and desperate for him, but right now, he just wants you as close as he physically can get.

Though in his haste to get onto his own road towards pleasure, he never forgets you- pride swelling as he watches you hold onto him, wanting him just as much as he wants you. He's a little sweaty already, and the sheetsbare tangled badly at this point from all your squirming, arousal already staining some parts of them but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

He uses one of his hands to aid him in finding your entrance, positioning himself to carefully push himself inside, and at this point, he just feels as if he truly became one with you. It's the last key experience in a way he's had to have with you, and now that he's in exactly that moment, things start to feel real.

"I love you." He almost whispers into your neck while he starts to move. "I'm.. so grateful you're here." He tells you, hips moving at a steady pace. "I want you to.. stay forever." He almost asks, in a way, and while you can't give him an answer to that right now, you probably will later.

After you're back with the normal thinking human beings, because right now, with his pace and strength gaining as he chases his high, your head is definitely unable to form thoughts.

In a way, he loves the sight of you like this. It's awfully sinful, a sight only he wants to ever be able to see, no one else.

He can't control his own noises at this point, uncaring of his groans of pleasure as he chases after his peak, noticing you growing antsy as well, visibly eager to cum as well. And he will make sure you'll get your attention as well- he'd never let you down, ever.

And with his hand reaching in between you both to find where he needs to be, you're gone and out; head thrown back into the pillows while he pushes himself in deep, condom filling with his seed while he slows down into almost no movement at all.

Catching his breath, he leans down to you to kiss you once more, ticking of his clock on the bedside table coming back into the background noise, as well as the cars outside from the opened window, and your breathing underneath him. His senses return one by one as he pulls himself out, moving to get rid of the condom and start the shower.

"Come on." He asks, tapping your thigh, but you just whine all grumpy at him. "Noo get up, get up- the bed's all messy and we're too.!" He laughs, all energized from his own afterglow, while you seem to be the exact opposite, having to be physically pulled into a sitting position by your wrists. Jungkook himself can't help but simply laugh, before he takes matters into his own hands, lifting you up over his shoulder-

And of course, landing a loud smack onto your butt for good measure.

[nanaminsmoon]

hiiii, so sorry if this is a lil long but bare w me pls, i love ur writing btw <3

ok: reader & plug!ony broke up about a year ago bc of something ony did (something bad but not like 100% unforgivable) but the feelings never left. he’s been tryna get her back over the year but she wasn’t budging cus she hadn’t seen any growth. recently tho she’s noticed he’s growing & she misses him. then at a function, she sees him pop out w a new girl & all their friends are staring at her like waiting for a reaction and in a littleee moment of jealousy, she goes up to ony like “you’re mine for life right?” and he jumps away from the other girl so fast like he BEEN waiting on this news 😭😭

omg thank you!! i was about to write something just like this but this is so much better!! i hope you like it and i'm sorry it took so long i just wanted it to be okay😭

cw: kinda angsty, oral (f receiving), car sex, ony calls reader 'ma', n word usage, mentions of breeding.

wc: 3913

atonement is hardly ever easy, and ony knew that first-hand. closing the gap between you and the person you once held closest to you can, surprisingly, be very difficult. even if a year of ‘separation’ is spent showing up at your ex-lovers’ door, or workplace, nail tech, or hair lady’s house. sometimes getting back to where you once where is needlessly difficult. especially if your definitions of said place are vastly different.

from the outside looking in, you and ony’s relationship had been picture perfect. he loved you as much as you loved him, and he wasn’t shy about it. everyone knew not to even look at you wrong, because they knew that they would have ony to deal with—and no one fucked with ony’s girl. except for him. because that picture had been held by a fraudulent frame; purposely hung over the large dent in your relationship. that being, his occupation.

from small kickbacks, to rich white kids who want to snort rebellion off their house keys, everyone had one thing in common—ony. no party started until ony got there and, as happy as you were for him, that didn’t come without its burdens. ony was almost always out dealing, giving you very little quality time to hang out. on the few occasions you got his undivided attention for more than a few hours, your peace would be interrupted by the ear-splitting noise erupting from his stupid nokia burner phone.

of course, small huffs of disappointment would slip past your lips when he told you that he had to leave. but you were used to it now, and that’s what helped ony sleep at night; knowing that you had become inured to his disconcerting disappearances, and abrupt reappearances. you knew that other people needed him, even if it meant that your needs were temporarily pushed aside. one time you had asked him, why it always had to be him that they called, and his response had been:

”my shit is the best, ma.”, said through a chortle, as he put his shoes on by your front door.

”i get that, but what about me?”, your arms crossed, as you tilted your head at your man—ony’s weakness. once you did that, with that look in your eyes, he couldn’t say no to you. but tonight, his priorities were different.

just let me do what i gotta do, and i’ll come right back to you. then i’m yours for the whole night.”, he had reassured, kissing your temple.

”just for the night?”, you scoffed.

”for life. now stay here, and i’ll be back.”, and that would appease you for the evening. but there’s only so much cracking one heart can do, before no adhesive can keep it whole, and it shatters into a million pieces. that night, you stripped yourself of ony’s shirt you had been wearing, and threw it into the corner of your bedroom; it smelt too much like him, and you hated it.

harmless hatred became deep disdain on the evening of your birthday. you had organised a dinner for a few of your closest friends and family, and had vehemently stressed to ony that he had to be there on time. because, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t just be wasting your time, but he’d be wasting that of those closest to you as well. and he had promised you that if there’s something that had to be handled during the time of your dinner, he’d get connie or eren to do it so he could be with you. but 15 minutes of waiting for him became 30. and 30 soon became an hour, and your friends grew reasonably irate due to hunger. so you said they could order, and you’d just call ony one more time. but in a time where all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend’s voice, all you were met with was rings on the other line. that sound resounded all over the side of your face. and that feeling grew once the realisation hit that had you been a client, he wouldn’t have let the phone ring for more than five seconds. and that gave you a lot to think about.

you didn’t know how long the dinner lasted because your focus had remained on keeping your tears from falling into your food. you hated how pitiful you looked, lifting your head up every time someone walked into the restaurant, and the crestfallen expression that landed on your face each time you saw it wasn’t ony. it made no sense to you how the man who swore he would do anything for you, the man who placed a band on your ring finger, promising you that one day he’d marry you. the man who swore he had never loved anyone more than you, refused to put you before something so fleeting.

ony finally did show up though…two hours after the dinner had ended. heartbroken cries in your bedroom, had constantly been interrupted by calls coming from ony’s contact. but every single one went unanswered; he needed to feel what you felt when he had embarrassed you in front of your loved ones. though mere missed calls could never compare to the taste of your celebratory dinner food meshing awkwardly with the swallowed cries in your throat, you had to make him feel a morsel of the anguish he had put you through.

if ony could’ve gone full 2000s rnb music video; shirtless, singing outside your window with his chain blowing in the windy rain, he would’ve done. he would’ve even started throwing pebbles if he could, but your apartment was too high on your building. so he just settled on incessantly pressing the button next to your door number. and, after the nth try, you opened the door for him and he ran inside—pressing the elevator button a thousand times once he got in. and, just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened. and you stood on the other side, utterly unimpressed; bonnet on, your own pyjamas (instead of one of his shirts), and eyes reddened by tears. the impact caused by his heart unceremoniously dropping to the pit of his stomach caused a soft sigh to leave his mouth. then his lips began moving to explain himself.

“look, i'm sorry. i lost track of ti—”, his explanations were waved off—your own thoughts outweighing whatever he had to say to you.

“we're done, ony.”, was all you said to him before closing the door, and ony’s brain turned off, then back on again because what the fuck did you just say??

“y/n, open the door”, he banged on the door. and, not wanting any noise complaints, you opened it.

“what?”, you scowled.

“the fuck you mean done? talk to me”, ony’s hand reached out to yours, but quickly retreated when you pulled back from him. you had never done that; even when you were mad at him, you at least gave him a chance to get back into your good books again.

“you missed my birthday dinner, ony”, your voice was small, tears about to fall yet again.

“i know, and i'm sor—”,

“two years in a row.”,

“like i said, i'm sor—”,

“and my graduation, the party we had when i finally got my drivers license, the lunch you promised me on my first day at my new job. and you were meant to be my date at my sisters wedding.”, every example was punctuated by your fingertip harshly poking at his chest, and the tears just started falling on their own.

“i'm sorry, y/n”, ony’s voice started cracking, as his hand embraced the hand you had been poking him with.

“sorry isn't good enough anymore, ony. i deserve someone who prioritises me”,

“but everything i do is for us.”, he kissed your hand, “imma use this money to buy you ever—”,

“do you not understand that i don't want your money or gifts? i want you, ony.”, your breathed out, exasperation deeply set in your voice, and in your slumping posture, “anyone could give me bags and shoes, ony. but only you could give me your time. but you won’t, and that's the problem”

“so what, this is it?”,

“until you figure yourself out, yeah.”, you slid your hand from him, “it pains me because i love you so much, but i can’t keep living like this. if you're not ready for a girlfriend then you should've never got with me”

“but i am ready”, he pleaded.

“then act like it.”. were the words that echoed in ony’s head every time he showed up to the places he saw you posting on your story—heart holding hopes that your paths would cross. you didn’t know how he did it, but ony became your shadow for nearly the whole year you spent separated. even when you told him to give it up, he refused; sending bouquets of flowers to your workplace every few days, talking to you through your friends and family, and even showing up to your job to make up for that lunch he promised you. it hurt you to turn him away when you could see in his eyes that he would give up the world to have you in his orbit again. but, when you would ask him about where he got the money to even buy you these flowers in the first place, his silence was very telling.

but word on the street was that ony was a changed man now. your sources told you that he wasn’t dealing as much, and he had gotten a job. those sources being his instagram story that you watched through a burner account. seeing him everywhere made it impossible for you to wash yourself of him completely, so desparate times called for desparate measures. you missed that man so much, it was driving you crazy. it pissed you off seeing him being the man you had asked him to be, but not having the chance to bask in his progress. your love for ony wouldn’t vanish overnight, but it sure as hell hadn’t faded in the year you had been separated either. you kept his shirts and hoodies, and the promise ring he bought you was still on your finger.

so elated didn’t even begin to explain the feeling in your chest when, upon arriving at some house party, one of your girls told you that ony was there too. you tried to not seem so eager, but you had no control over your heart beating rapidly at the idea that you might see him again. all you needed was for him to apologise one more time, and you’d be all his. that was until you came to find that there was a hole blocking your reunion—that hole being in the shape of some girl giggling in his face, as his arm sat around her waist. every fibre of your being urged you to stomp over there, and scream his ear off. but he wasn’t your man anymore so there was nothing you could do but kiss your teeth and glower that them.

no man, not even ony, could get in the way of you and your friends enjoying yourselves. so that’s exactly what you did. for an hour, or two, ony didn’t exist and you just laughed and danced with your friends. however, the end of that would be marked when you stood, talking some guy you had just met, and one of your friends nudged you and nodded in ony’s direction.

“that doesn't bother you?”, she asked, obviously asking about the girl sat on ony’s lap.

“why would it?”, you shrugged back.

“you ain't say you missed the nigga?”, your other friend chimed in.

“okay? that doesn't mean i want him back”, you lied through your teeth.

“so you’re just missing him as hobby?”, sasha laughed.

“leave me alone.”, you chided, and your friends dropped the whole thing. but you wished those saltine whispers of jealousy would leave your eyes, and let you at least pretend to enjoy yourself in peace.

and if it wasn’t them ruining your fun, it was the girl’s friends staring at you.

“why are her friends looking at me?”, you whispered to connie. he had come over to speak to you, and that had caught ony’s attention. mainly because he wondered why you were willing to speak to his friend, but not him.

“they’re gloating.”, connie put a comforting arm around you, and pulled you closer to himself.

“well, tell them to stop.”, as if you could feel ony’s eyes on you, you moved connie’s arm from you, and connie laughed before putting it back where it was.

“they won’t. in their mind, she stole ony from you.”, he explained, and you scoffed.

“pfft, i could get that nigga back anytime i wanted”, you retorted, earning some knowing looks from your friends, before unprecedented words fell from sasha’s mouth.

“then do it.”, she nudged you, “you keep saying you want him so bad, go get him. he’s your man. go collect him”, that didn’t sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a dare. and you were never one to back down from a dare.

“fuck it”.

you didn’t know where your strides were leading you until you were barging past ony’s friends to link your arm around his own. at first, his body went into fight or flight because he thought he was about to be robbed, then calm came in the sound of your voice,

“ony, baby, where did you go? i've been looking for you everywhere”, you made sure to stick yourself onto him, and he didn’t move from you because he was too busy comprehending what the fuck was going on.

“y/n?”,

“i thought you guys were done?”, miss.whatever-her-name-was, linked ony’s other arm with her own, and pulled him towards herself.

“yeah, so did i”, ony spoke under his breath, looking down at you in bewilderment as he thought to himself; ”how much did i fucking smoke?”.

“who’s done?”, you looked up at him, “you’re mine for life, right?”, you pouted up at him, and all those memories of that night he had promised you he wouldn’t be long, came flooding back—ony folded immediately.

“always.”, he grinned at you, simultaneously yanking his arm away from whatever her name was.

“ony?”, she complained—now it was your turn to gloat.

“what?”, he sneered at her.

“you told me you guys were done”, she whined, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“well then don’t believe everything a nigga tells you”, was his final rebuttal before he pulled you outside.

at first, you just sat in silence, taking in the cool summer breeze. but ony had questions and, more importantly, he wanted to hear your voice.

“you forgive me then?”, his elbow gently met your arm.

“who said that?”, you stared down at your feet, kicking into the ground beneath you.

“you don't forgive me but you wanna do all that shit back there?”, he laughed.

“she didn't look good for you”, you finally looked up at him, and ony just laughed at you.

“you don't know her”,

“i just got that vibe”, you feigned a shudder, eyes still on him.

“what'd you really want, y/n?”, his index finger lifted your chin.

“you.”, your frank demeanour, and sincere eye contact, blew ony’s eyes wide open.

“well, you got me.”, as much as ony had changed in that year, his love for you remained incorrigible, and he’d be dumb to try and convince you otherwise. so he wouldn’t; he’d been wanting you back for far too long, and he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

“that easy?”, you teased.

“even if you’re not mine, i’ll always be yours, y/n. you know that”, ony’s words directed themselves at your lips; brown irises stuck onto your shining gloss.

“well then…can i be yours again?”, you muttered apprehensively, and the pause after that comment was unreadable.

“y’don’t even have to ask, c’mere”, ony reached his hand out to you.

gentle fingers, interlocked with yours, led you out of the party, and down a road that would end at ony’s car—parked overlooking the local area. he wasted no time; unlocking it before opening the back door, and gesturing for you to get in.

"already? you don’t at least want to talk first?”, you laughed at how keen he was, and a lazy smirk graced his face.

”we’ll talk after. get in.”, any anger, or disappointment, built up over the time you were together, had been mollified with just one comment. missing ony was something you never wanted to do again, and seeing the person he had apparently become, meant that you probably never would. all memories of past arguments, and splits, dispersed in ony’s mind once his lips met yours in a fervent kiss. it was one of longing, and regret. the heat emanating off his body causing particles of his internal regret to fill the inside of the car. you could feel it bouncing off your skin, as his tongue met with yours, and his hands kneaded at your flesh through your clothes. ultimately moving south to help you shimmy your way out of your jeans and underwear. he wouldn’t take them off completely, just leave them by your ankles as he laid you on your back, his mouth already placing soft kisses on your upper thigh. that lasted all of five seconds before ony’s tongue was wrapping around your clit, sucking on it gently. for him, this was a meal that was long overdue, and you could feel it in the way he ate you out like a starved man. taking no breaks; wet noises and thirsty moans, omitted by the ever-moving mouth entertaining your core, pervaded the vehicle.

ony had always luxuriated in eating you out, so it wasn’t long until you came; a rivulet dousing his lower face, before he finally came up for air.

”you still taste as good as i remember”, he uttered lowly, moving to give you a taste of yourself as he pressed his lips against yours. his kisses were haste as his hands fumbled to pull down his jeans and boxers, to angle himself at your entrance. the way you took in that first inch of him had him incapacitated; his forehead dropped to meet yours, while deep groans left his mouth.

”fuck…”, ony had to pause to compose himself before he gently pushed the rest of his length inside you. once he did, he just stayed there; eyes locked with yours, thanks to the streetlights, and you could’ve sworn that this man was close to tears with the way his eyes were glossing over.

the way he was fucking you was ineffable; a year was nothing compared to the others ony had spent studying your body, and the things it reacted to. like the way you’d grow tighter around him at his hands pressing your legs against your chest, as he fucked into you. even in the confined space, head crouched down so he didn’t hit the ceiling, ony still fucked you like you were in the comfort of his bedroom—with all the space, and time, in the world. his ireful tip would caress that spongy spot inside of you, over and over again, making your head spin. all those years of learning your body had not been in vain, because a few minutes in that position, and you came around him. keening his name, as your back lifted off the leather seats. ony was planning on taking you back to his place, and making up for lost time properly. but, for now, he would just turn you around and fuck into you from the back—your hands immediately finding the steamy windows,

”don’t do that, ma. people will know what we’re doin’ in here”, he chuckled at you and you moaned out a distorted version of,

”and the moving car doesn’t make it obvious?”. somehow, ony understood you; he was just used to your fucked out rebuttals, and he scoffed at you before giving the moving flesh surrounding your hips two quick slaps. your hands grabbed at anything they could to gain balance, ultimately deciding on the arm rest on the door. and ony’s hands would follow suit, but as he went to intertwine your fingers, his hands were met with cold metal. it was pretty dark in there, so he couldn’t really make out what it was, but a fleeting headlight revealed the ring he had bought you.

“still got that ring on?”, he smiled to himself.

“you p-promised me…”, you stammered out.

“that i’d marry you.”, his eyes softened at the fact that you had been wearing that ring, despite not being together. all because of that lovestruck vow he had made you,

“and imma keep to that promise. imma marry you, then imma fuck some babies into you”, he spoke to you, “that okay with you?”, you moaned out in loud agreement, and that drove ony to fuck you harder.

“good.”, the thought of you being his wife, sat in your marital bed, with his child in your arms sent him over the edge, and ony came in you. deep hums, containing declarations of his love, spilt all over the back of your neck. but his hips didn’t still because he could feel you coming again.

once you both came down from your orgasms, ony laid you down on your side, before pulling his boxers and jeans up and leaving the car momentarily to turn the car on. he opened the windows slightly, before returning to the back of the car. his back would soon be attached to the back door, yours against his chest as your fingers intertwined. even though you hadn’t covered yourself yet, and his nut was leaking out of you onto the leather seats, everything just seemed perfect. in its own weird way; you in ony’s arms again, and his lips pressing loving kisses on your temple.

”y’know it would’ve taken just one more knock at my front door for me to forgive you?”, you looked up at him. and, once the initial shock subsided, he chuckled at you.

”but i kinda think it’s better this way.”, he shrugged.

”how?”, you sat up to face him properly.

”it felt good to finally be able to give you my attention when you asked it of me.”, he smiled, reaching out to stroke your cheek, ”no interruptions. just us.”, after all the emotional turmoil, it was nice hearing that word again; ”us”.

”for life.”, you kissed his knuckle.

”for life.”

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Starting

just a little something I wrote for somebody's (@shepscapades) birthday back in November :3 after I asked what etho and bdubs would've been like shortly after etho's deviation. this is the few times before last life where bdubs realizes etho might be a good friend, and how their relationship changes. comes right before A Gear of the Heart, Turning! (4653 words)

Etho remembers quite a bit.

He remembers the ricochet of the explosion through his left side. He remembers a dozen errors across his vision, showing every unit damaged by the blast, the fractals of fracturing snaking up his arm, the shattered remains of his central programming lingering like a livewire. 

Over and over he can remember the pitch of Bdubs’ voice and had to wonder his own diagnosis at that moment. Bdubs watching his android die in his name—he remembers that, too. Bdubs didn’t even ask for that. It was something Etho gave to him. He’s not sure he could even say why, either. 

It remained a bitter flavor he couldn't identify, even as Xisuma assured him he was okay. Something had happened then, sitting on that floor, thirium in hand. Some movement in his chest he couldn’t place. It wasn’t anything physical, but it felt like some gear of his nonexistent heart had started, turned—rotated. And all he could do was ask himself why. What’s he supposed to do with that?

He doesn’t know. Fine. 

Etho goes back to work at someone’s request. Not even his own request, either, so he has to wonder if maybe Doc put him up to it. Him being Bdubs. Him being Bdubs who shifted back and forth on his feet at Etho’s door—a facade of a base in the process of being designed. If one could even call it a base, yet.

And even though he was increasingly certain that Bdubs had been told to ask—and Etho asked him if he’d been asked to help, and he was adamant about asking by himself, that’s what he said. He said: “You think I gotta be told to ask people for help? I can’t just be doin’ things on my own?” and it had felt so much like doublespeak that Etho didn’t even fight to differentiate his tone. 

But Bdubs had asked if he wanted to help with the horse course. Terraforming—it should be right up his alley, if he’s still into that kind of stuff. Figured he was the expert—or so it goes. Etho had nodded. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. He supposes he could have easily said no. 

But every part of him yearned to say yes.

So he did.

The dust sifts through his fingers.

Etho perches in the grass, partially hunched as he leans over his line of redstone, shrouded by the hill half-built around him. He’d spent most of the week prior carving out the lines of the track, setting posts for buildings, laying out blueprints for Bdubs to finalize. Today, he lays his line meticulously, dust shifting in his hands. They still shake a bit—nothing a human would notice, nothing that disrupted the flow of his lines, but the overworked gears still shifted in protest as he worked. He could see the faded overlay of the project in his vision if he focused. It crackled, slightly blue-yellow, orange glowing indicators where action was needed, where there were mistakes to be corrected.

It isn’t his redstone to fix. The lines under his hands were—freshly laid by his near-expert technique—but the deeper lines, noteblock announcements, droppers, doorgates, the flourish of the house course, weren’t. Etho smooths out the line he was standing near with his thumb. 

There was nothing wrong with the laid redstone, really. It’s just. Well. It’s not even. It takes up so much space. It lacks the efficiency and tidiness he practiced to a precision. It radiated Bdubs in an overpowering way, one that might turn a gear of the heart—one he didn’t have, of course. Etho’s lines are neat, rigid, conforming to his perfect mental map. 

He lets down his section of dust, drifting over to the dispenser system. He pushes a line further into place, brushing dust back from the side. Further on, where the line crosses, he readjusts it, he smooths them from start to end of line. His hands work where his mind recalculates, looking for errors along the redstone already laid out by Bdubs. Programs bubble up to assist; he dismisses a message, and another as he works. The line straightens from source to sink. 

As he passes, searching for another correction, he hears someone above him. In the corner of his vision, another message notification pings: from Bdubs.

They’re all from Bdubs, actually, now that he notices in full. He blinks, mouth twisting into a frown. Whoops.

He hears someone—Bdubs, he realizes, as he notes the fall of his feet, and the sigh he hops down from his horse, the shuffle of said horse, hooves on grass—clear their throat. Bdubs shuffles around as Etho moves back over to his finished redstone, dusting his hands on the sides of his pants. He lifts the small bag of dust, twisting the tie shut around his fingers as he travels back up the line to recheck the connections. 

“Etho?” Bdubs calls. Etho straightens, just on instinct alone, glancing up at the stretch of sky he can see. It’s bright blue, barely dotted with clouds, and the grass looks warm with sun. He fixes where the dust starts as he sections off the end, tossing the rest of the redstone over to his sling bag.

“Under the hill!”

Bdubs leans over the edge, tilting his head at Etho as he peers into the dark. It takes him a moment to find Etho’s face, partially obscured by black fabric and the fluff of wool around his collar. Etho tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

“Did you need something?” he asks, arm hanging loosely by his side. Bdubs frowns, too, watching Etho’s expression. As his eyes seem to adjust to the dark, his gaze falls on the lines of redstone. He pauses there for a long moment. In that moment, Etho feels something in his chest grind, almost to a noticeable ache. If he could pull in a breath to settle it, he might have, but the sensation and minute sound passes as soon as he moves his hand to press flat against his regulator. Bdubs is gone when he looks up, reappearing only as he drops into the cavern, catching himself on the wall. He readjusts his cloak around his shoulders, shuffling into the low-light.

“Etho,” he says, still frowning. Etho looks him over. He watches Bdubs set his hands on his hips, but his heart rate stays even and his temperature level. The only thing that changes is the tone of his voice, fluctuating with a pattern Etho recognizes as forcing something. Bdubs takes a long breath in and lets it out. Etho’s eyes find the twitch of his fingers as he folds his arms, rather than the sharp curve of his mouth.

“Yes?” Etho asks. He feels his pump work a little harder. It kind of hurts still, whatever’s stopped working in his chest. He flicks his eyes, recalling a diagnostic, setting it to run in the background as he closes out of the overlays and the world returns to yellowish-grey. Bdubs is still frowning.

“You mind tellin’ me what’s wrong with this redstone?”

Etho blinks. The diagnostic comes up clear.

“What do you mean?” he says, his expression shifting into something copying amusement. He’s trying. He’s at least trying to mimic the emotions he sees. Soon enough it’ll feel natural, he’s certain. “What’s wrong with it?”

Bdubs snorts, which turns into a laugh, which turns into Etho smiling a bit wider, a bit more confusion lingering in his expression as he leans around Bdubs to check his meticulously placed line. Bdubs turns away from him, facing the system, the clock that linked the start gates to the timer below.

“What’s—” Bdubs scoffs, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with it? Etho—” he holds out his hand, waving Etho over. Etho lingers at his shoulder as he steps forward, peering over the curve of it and the moss and small leaves and flowers draped over his neck. “It’s too perfect.”

Etho makes a sound like a scoff now, a caught sound in his vocal unit, a stuttering start to his sentence that doesn’t form right away. He’s trying for surprise, the pitch of his voice rising unexpectedly.

“It’s too perfect?” he asks. 

Bdubs nods. After a moment, Etho thinks he sees his expression shift, the high of his cheek rising. When Bdubs turns his head to look at him, just for a second, Bdubs is smiling.

“Bdubs,” Etho says, sighing, turning away from him, to his bag on the far side of the room. He shakes his head. That something-nothing in his chest flutters and fades and disappears all at once, instead replaced with the urge to smile back. Bdubs laughs, and Etho can imagine him tipping his head back, mouth curved up as he giggles to himself. Etho shakes his head. As he starts to pull away from Bdubs, he feels him catch his sleeve, holding fast to his elbow.

“Etho, wait—” Bdubs giggles. “It looks really good.”

Etho raises his eyebrows. Caught in Bdubs grasp, all he can do is look at him, head tilted, trying not to let the amusement show on his face. Bdubs giggles, face breaking again as he does.

“Etho…” he tries again, fighting back a smile. Etho tilts his head the other way, as if to prompt him further, looking for anything. He stays silent. Bdubs hand lowers slowly, that smile faltering just a fraction. Maybe he thinks Etho’s upset with him. There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You gonna say anythin’? Or you just gonna stand there?”

Etho smiles, finally. He shrugs a little, glancing over at the fixed lines of redstone.

“I fixed your redstone,” he says cooly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. Bdubs blinks. He jerks away as Etho’s smile grows, shoving him hard in his shoulder. Etho wobbles for a moment, smiling to himself, scrunching up his face as Bdubs’ expression morphs. He does laugh, after a beat, poking Etho in the shoulder as he does. Etho hopes he can see the smile in his eyes. He saves, logs, keeps this moment. He’s sure in the low light that his LED spins yellow for a moment. It feels right. If there’s any feeling to catalog.

Bdubs huffs. Etho thinks he hears him say something under his breath. It sounds a lot like thank you.

It’s out of habit, rather than obligation, that Etho finds himself back at the horse course. Of course he ends up here, his feet moving him about as if his brain-not-brain had no thoughts of its own. Man. Some days, it really felt human.

He wanders across the plain, eyes lingering on fully-built buildings, knowing the schematics and plans, watching as those plans-now-buildings stretched higher above his head, where they nearly threatened to pop the sky wide open. 

Bdubs had sat down with him earlier that week, papers spread out between them. He’d stopped by, actually—worked his way up the mountain to the base Etho had finally finished, papers in hand, looking like he was on the verge of collapse. He’d dropped the blueprints on the largest table Etho had managed to clear, spreading out the designs for huge, complex buildings. Etho watched him explain, listened for the inflection of when to offer suggestions, heard the way Bdubs’ voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial, as he explained his palette. There was something methodical in the way Bdubs spoke, not only in the approach to his colors, but to his style. As much as it seemed eclectic and strange, he watched the pieces fall together as Bdubs spoke of his gradients. There was something deeper there, a precision that Etho, all of a sudden, in that room, craved to emulate. To write to disk. To save. To do more than just copy. 

He’d built the horse stable first—all to his own specifications. It was Bdubs later who came in to detail, tilling up the dirt around to plant grass and flowers, sectioning off parts of the empty stable. It was almost difficult to compartmentalize that Bdubs was finished with it now. That they’d worked each line of the redstone and Etho had supervised the first steps of building, and now he could look up and see the very top, or almost, if he were to strain, of the spikes above the buildings. 

And in just a few weeks, Bdubs was onto another project. Etho smiles to himself. He can’t help it. There was something rather comforting about that. Something about Bdubs dragging him along to help, pointing him toward the thing he was good at, and asking for help. Bdubs showing up at his door with plans. Bdubs cracking jokes with him, and looking for a laugh Etho couldn’t replicate yet. It’s like something clicked. Or was just on the breach of it. And Etho liked it.

Etho clears his field of view, taking in, instead, the stretch of sky where it met the ocean, along the line of hills and grass and flowers, and further still, to the smudge that looked like Bdubs. He blends in too well—the green of his coat barely noticeable against the field of grass that splayed out from the side of his build. There were still materials strewn about—chests half opened, shulkers stacked waist high. 

Bdubs stands to the side of a dark grey and white horse, one hand placed on its nose, the other digging through his bag. Etho watches for a moment. Bdubs fishes around for that entire second that he lingers, searching for something, until he pulls out an apple. Another falls to the ground, rolling away from him. He holds out the fruit for the horse as Etho clears his throat. 

“Hiya, Bdubs—” he says as Bdubs startles, twisting around to see him. He huffs, an immediate frown coming to his face. Bdubs turns to fetch the dropped apple, holding it high above his head as the grey horse nudges its nose into his empty hand. He pats it instead.

“Etho,” he says, tone thin. He sighs, shaking his head. “Scared the life outta me, you know that? You gotta make some noise when you’re walkin’ around.”

Etho smiles, a nice and easy reaction to the annoyance in Bdubs’ voice. It’s getting easier. At least a bit. The smiling part, that is. The inflection that comes with being happy.

“I’ll try next time,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. His hands find his pockets as he looks around, eyes following the path around the buildings. He’s sure the pollen and moss will be stuck to his clothes for days before he gets them out.

“Mm,” Bdubs hums, unconvinced. “I’m sure you will. Now, what’re you doin’ here? You don’t have anything better to do?”

“That’s a good question,” Etho says.

Bdubs turns back to him for a second, just a glance over his shoulder as he cocks his head to the side. He raises his eyebrows before he turns back to the horse, who’s started to nose at his bag. He drags his hand down its nose.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t have an objective right now?”

“I never have an objective, Bdubs.”

Bdubs snorts again . Etho steps over, slow, minding the horse. It sniffs as Etho holds out his hand, nosing his gloved palm. He pats the horse's nose, somewhat stilted, smoothing over the soft bridge of his nose.

“Right,” Bdubs hums. When Etho glances over to him, Bdubs glances away, as if he’d lingered as Etho stepped over. He’s not moved from Etho’s side, which. Makes something fit into Etho’s chest in a way he isn’t expecting. He rests his hand on the horse's head, looking over at Bdubs in full.

“I can’t come see how the horse course is looking, now that you’re done?” he asks. Bdubs makes an embarrassed sounding noise, watching the rise of the buildings to their left. The horse sniffs, and Etho lifts his hand away, letting it fall to his side.

“I—I got excited about it,” Bdubs mutters. If Etho leans enough, he can see the beginnings of a flush creep over his cheeks, up the shell of his ear. Something about that, too. Etho looks beyond him, though, studying the rise of the buildings as Bdubs does. He nods to himself.

“I can tell,” he says, amusement slipping into his voice, almost naturally. Immediately, Bdubs whips around again, face twisted in offense.

“Hey!” he snaps. “You makin’ fun of me?”

Etho shakes his head, spreading his hands out in front of him as he does.

“No, no. Not at all,” he says, hoping the smile he’s giving is reaching his eyes. “I’m saying we make a pretty good team.”

Bdubs makes a little huff of a sound, but his posture and expression softens. Etho studies it from the moment it appears, trying to place the emotion behind it. He seems upset—but not from anything Etho said. He almost looks guilty.

“We’ve always made a good team,” Bdubs mumbles. Etho blinks.

“Since when have we been a team?”

“Since—s…” Bdubs blurts, then backtracks, folding his arms over his chest. “Well we’re a team now!”

Etho raises his eyebrows, stepping away from the horse and more around Bdubs’ side. He leans in a bit as he stands by his side, bumping their shoulders together. Bdubs doesn’t recoil. Instead, he pushes back, just for a moment, and they jostle. Bdubs hums, sighing through his nose.

“Are we?” Etho asks. Bdubs nods, short and firm.

“Mhm! ‘Cause I said so.”

Etho nods with him. There’s that thing again, a turning, jostling, in some part of his chest that really shouldn’t turn or jostle. He can feel his temperature tick up just a few degrees, a fan kicking on to settle the temperature, thirium sludging warm to cold through his limbs. A team, huh? He couldn’t beat Bdubs’ conviction, that’s for sure. Maybe it was a bit of guilt, then. Maybe something in Bdubs had realized Etho was much more of a help than a hindrance. Maybe Bdubs wanted a friend. Maybe he just felt bad and the feeling bad got to a point where he had to just do something about it. Etho didn’t know. He didn’t live inside Bdubs’ brain. And picking at Bdubs’ every emotion was a task enough to drive his processor into the ground. He could already feel another spike in temperature, LED glowing yellow-blue. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Etho sticks his hands in his pockets.

“I’d like that,” he says, finally pushing out the words as his programming jumps into gear, “What’s our next project then?”

Bdubs goes back to jostling him before he turns away, moving from Etho’s side to collect his horse. Gathering the horse's reins in his hands, Bdubs pauses.

“Ooh…” he says, frowning a little. Etho watches the little furrow of his eyebrows—thinking. Bdubs is turning the idea over in his head. Bdubs steps back over with the horse in tow, already walking in the direction of the horse stable. Etho jolts forward, taking several big steps to match Bdubs’ pace. “Well why don’t you come back to the clock and we can talk about it, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

Bdubs makes an affirmative sound, leading the horse around and into the stable. Etho watches him unlatch the gate, ushering the horse into the pen.

“I can put the kettle on and everything,” Bdubs says. He lifts the bridle out of the horse’s mouth, running his hand along the length of the horse’s nose. Etho doesn’t mean to watch him as he does, but the action is so purposeful. There’s a moment where Bdubs’ expression is unreadable—unreadable as in Etho simply can’t place anything on it. Unreadable in the amount it changes—something softer than he’s seen, something far away. Bdubs’ whole demeanor seems to shift as he stands still for a moment. Etho isn’t sure what to do with himself. He’s just standing in straw and dirt and stones, all of which he can feel under his shoes. He shuffles a bit, back and forth, to make his presence known, before he says:

“You know I can’t drink anything, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs rolls his eyes, squinting over at him, stepping away from the horse to hop the gate.

“Well you can at least fake it,” he grumbles. He folds his arms again, wrinkling his nose at Bdubs as Bdubs leads him out of the pen and into the open field around the horse course. The shadow of the buildings above them hasn’t changed, yet. The sun is still high and warm in the sky.

Etho laughs. At least, he makes a sound that he thinks passes as a laugh. Bdubs laughs too, though, so it must sound pretty convincing. He nods, the smile on his face feeling much more natural than he ever could have expected. 

“I could fake it,” he laughs. “Sure.”

Bdubs grins at him. It’s nice. It makes the walk back to his base a little more bearable.

By the time Etho gets his invitation to the life game, he’s grown accustomed to being at Bdubs’ side again. He wanders around Bdubs’ base like he knows it, makes it a spot he chooses to map, to memorize. Bdubs checks in on him when he isn’t around as much—asks him how his builds are going, wonders if he needs help. Bdubs lingers in his spaces too, like a plant trying to root, gives himself reasons to stand in doorways just a bit longer, just enough to extend their goodbyes. It feels right—in a way that almost gives reason to Etho’s deviation. Maybe, deep down, from their first introduction, Etho had decided to glue himself to Bdubs’ side and not become unstuck. Maybe he’d simply put that decision, his first ever decision, into motion that day. It didn’t matter much as to why anymore.

When Etho gets his letter, he doesn’t open it. He holds it between two fingers, turning it over and over. He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says. There’s a dark red seal on the back, shaped like a heart. He makes a little sound, some sort of click in the back of his mouth, before he stuffs the letter in his pocket, half-folded.

He finds Bdubs exactly where he expects. Bdubs is sitting cross-legged in his garden, hands in the dirt, when Etho arrives at the crescent moon base. If he looks closely enough, Etho can still tell that Bdubs’ own letter sits on his window sill in the kitchen, unopened. But he’s really squinting to notice, so he writes it off for now as a flaw in his own sight. 

Bdubs turns to him as he walks up. His hair is pushed back away from his face with his bandana, and his hands are covered in dirt, and he’s got a streak of black soil across his forehead that Etho tries not to look at for too long. Bdubs shoots him a toothy grin, going back to his bright orange tulips. If Etho looks long enough, he could probably guess the soil mixture, and tell him if it's good enough to be planting orange tulips in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes to stand behind him and Bdubs hums in greeting.

“Etho,” he says, looking up again, wiping the dirt from his forehead. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Etho says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He forgets who he picked the gesture up from, but it’s become part of his natural body language patterns now, so he won’t be stopping it anytime soon. “I just came to see how you were doing.”

“How I was doin’, huh?” Bdubs asks, amusement trickling into his voice. Etho smiles, feeling his face pull.

“Mhm,” he says. “That’s right. I can’t come and check up on a friend?”

Bdubs laughs, sticking his spade in the dirt.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” he says, still giggling as he turns around. “I thought we were just a team.”

Etho watches him lean back on his hands, legs coming out from under him. He tries to read Bdubs’ expression and voice for any note of insincerity, or play, or teasing, but doesn’t find anything he normally associates with Bdubs. This just feels true.

“I mean, I figured with how much we’ve been working together…” Etho starts, to which Bdubs startles, waving his hands.

“No, no!” Bdubs yelps. “Etho, I thought the same thing! I just wasn’t expectin’ it from you.”

Etho blinks. It feels owlish, small, almost a wrong reaction to hearing Bdubs say something like that. But it’s what immediately happens, before he tries to open his mouth, and no sound comes out. He waits for a moment. He assumes his LED spins, maybe even red, as Bdubs watches him, face paling.

“Oh,” Etho says quietly.

“We’re friends,” Bdubs says, voice much smaller than Etho’s ever heard it. “‘S that alright with you?”

Etho feels like the proper response would be to laugh, if he could really feel anything at all besides every gear in his chest halting and restarting themselves. He makes a noise that sounds almost like a cough.

“Mhm,” he says. He watches Bdubs’ shoulders relax and finds that his own posture sinks with it. 

“Good,” Bdubs says, nodding along. “Was there anything else you wanted to scare me with?”

Etho knows this tone—playful. Teasing. He works up a smile and fishes the letter from his pocket, slightly bent. Bdubs’ eyes flick right to it, right to the red seal pressed into the paper. Immediately, he scrambles up, reaching for the note in Etho’s hands. Etho lets him grab it in his dirt-covered fingers, even as Bdubs tries frantically to dust off his hands as he notices. Bdubs turns it over itself, glancing up at Etho.

“It’s for you?”

Etho nods.

“It was on my doorstep this morning,” he says. “I can see you’ve got one in your window?”

Bdubs snorts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I haven’t opened the damn thing. I’m excited up until the point I’m not, ‘cause I know I’m gonna lose again.”

Etho hums. As Bdubs hands him back the letter, Etho rests his hand on his shoulder, giving it a hesitant, light squeeze. Bdubs looks quickly down at it, before he’s back to staring at Etho’s face.

“Don’t worry, Bdubs,” he says, hoping his voice is full of amusement and affection like he feels like it is. “You’ll have me there this time!”

And Bdubs laughs, full and warm in his chest, and Etho jostles him around as he does, until Bdubs is smacking his shoulder and wiggling free. He picks up his fallen hat and his tools, and Etho follows him around the side of the house as he puts things away. As he shuts one of the chest, Bdubs says:

“You mean that, though? You wanna be on a team?”

Etho smiles, feeling his eyes squint, forces every ounce of new feeling into his words when he says:

“I don’t think I wanna team with anyone else, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs’ grin in excitement is more than enough to convince him he’s made the right choice.

It’ll be a long two weeks until the death game starts. When he returns home later that night, Bdubs’ plans for success turning over in his brain, recording for later, Etho reads over the letter enough to commit the page to memory. He keeps it safe internally as the letter finds its way to his bookshelf, half-sealed. Through him, like it’s just under the skin, runs an emotion he’s not yet familiar with. He hopes it's a good one, at the very least. He hopes so, as much as an android, a machine, someone just now familiar with the idea of free will, can hope. 

It feels good, though. And something makes him think that everything will turn out just fine.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

That's What Family is For (Part 2)

Fandom: DC, Batman, Batfam, Damian Wayne, Batsis!reader, f!reader Summary: After being kidnapped and offering to take Damian's place to be tortured, you miraculously find yourself waking up back home. Damian has a new outlook on your relationship, but will a secret from your past ruin everything? Word Count: 5231 TW: Hospital, Aftermath of Torture, Mentions of Past Torture, Mentions of Death, Forced to Watch, Crying, Coma, Past Trauma Note: Today is the 2 year anniversary of posting Part 1 of this fic. Thank you so incredibly much for your patience and support as I worked on this and I hope it lives up to Part 1 💖 Part of @ailesswhumptober

Part 1

You have no idea how long you were asleep for, but when you finally managed to drag yourself into consciousness, you couldn’t remember why every inch of your body was in a strange state of concurrent numbness and agony, or why you couldn’t seem to see out of your left eye. It was only when you caught sight of the two casts stretching from the soles of your feet up to the top of your thighs that it all came flooding back to you. 

You and Damian had been kidnapped in an attempt to get a ransom from Bruce. To prove they meant business, the kidnappers were going to torture Damian but you had offered to take his place. What happened next was just a blur of blood and pain: The glint of a large knife. The blunt impact of a bat. But mercifully, you couldn’t remember much else. Just that it had been bad. Really bad. 

You tried to take a mental inventory of what hurt and what sort of injuries you had sustained, but there was too much damage. All the individual pain bled into each other until it just felt like one massive wound. Every breath you took made your chest, ribs, and throat ache, your head was pounding, and you couldn’t move either leg or your left arm. All you could manage was a slight turn of your head as you looked towards the door but even that small motion sent new waves of pain through you, causing a low moan to slip from your lips.

Almost instantly, Jason came rushing into the room, panic etched onto his face. Yet the second he saw you looking at him, his face split into a massive grin. The kind you couldn’t remember seeing on him since he returned from the dead. And despite everything, that sight warmed your heart.

Licking your cracked lips, you tried to speak but nothing happened. Swallowing a few times, you finally managed a barely audible, “Hey, Jaybird.” 

The words sounded funny, thick and slightly lispy but Jay’s smile only widened. He hurried to your bedside and dropped into the chair that had been left there. “Damn, sis. You look terrible.”

You knew he was trying to keep the mood light, but you could hear the tears hiding just behind his words. Giving your best attempt at a smile, you croaked, “Even like this, I bet I still look better than you.”

“Yeah, probably,” he chuckled. “That voice though…. They said it would probably be hard to speak for a few days because of the tube and–” He cut himself off, but you knew what he was going to say. Because all your screams of pain had damaged it. 

Swallowing again, you tried to make your voice sound as normal as possible. “Yeah, well, you better be careful. You keep smoking all those cigarettes, this is what you’ll sound like in a few years.”

“Even now you gotta hassle me about those?”

“If you would just quit, I wouldn’t have to get on you about the–” 

Your words were cut off as your body fell prey to a fit of coughing. It tore at your throat like daggers and your chest felt like it was shattering into pieces. It only lasted for a few seconds but when it passed, you were left panting and moaning in pain. 

When you finally managed to pull yourself together once more and looked back at Jason, his smile had completely vanished, replaced with a thin-lipped grimace. His eyes drifted over your broken body before returning to your face. “So… Honestly. How do you feel?”

“How do you think?” you wheezed. “Like someone ran over me with.. with a… wit– oh forget it. I’m in too much pain to think of something clever. I feel shitty.”

“What hurts?”

“The easier question is ‘what doesn’t hurt?’. And why can’t I open my left eye?”

“Alfred taped it closed for now. It looked pretty messed up.”

You nod slightly. “Permanent?”

“Not sure,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “They had to wait until you woke up to fully assess the damage.”

You nodded again, the dread growing in the pit of your stomach. But you have to know the answer to your next question, no matter how terrifying the answer might be. In a small voice, you ask, “How bad overall?”

Jason hesitated. “Maybe you should wait for Bruce or Alfred to–”

“How bad, Jay?”

Still avoiding your eye, he shifted in his chair before answering. “Bad. The worst of the damage is on your left side. Your arm was dislocated, your cheekbone was destroyed, you’re missing several teeth, and your eye is… well, I already mentioned that. Also, most of your ribs were pretty much shattered and the ones that weren’t are cracked. The pieces punctured your lungs in multiple places. Your legs…The knives thankfully missed all the major arteries, but Alfred said there still might be some nerve damage.”

“Is that all?” You had meant for the question to be sarcastic, but the quiver in your voice made it sound more like a desperate plea.

Jason took a long, deep breath. “It also took eight surgeries, four blood transfusions, and three resuscitations to get you stable.”

“Yeah, that feels about right.” You clenched your jaw tightly as you struggled to hold back your tears, but that just sent a fresh jolt of pain through your mouth. Using your tongue, you gently prod the three new gaps where teeth used to be. No wonder your words sounded funny. 

In a soft whisper, you asked, “I’m done, aren’t I? There’s no coming back from this, not really. Even if I can get back to a halfway normal state, I’m never going to be able to put the costume back on. No going on patrol, no more protecting the city, no more being a hero.” 

A small sob bubbled in your throat. When Bruce had taken you in all those years ago, you were a mess. Every night, you woke up screaming from nightmares—memories—of watching your parents tortured to death in front of you while you were helpless to do anything. You had felt so powerless. But then Bruce told you about his secret life. That he was the man in the mask who had rescued you from that horrible place. And he taught you how to be strong, how to be for others what he had been for you. He had given your life a purpose but now….it had been taken from you just like your parents had been. 

As the tears began to slip down your face, Jason carefully took your hand, rubbing the back with his thumb as he leaned in to stare you directly in your good eye. “Hey, don’t think that way. Bruce was able to come back from a broken back, I came back from the dead, and you… you can come back from this. It’s not gonna be easy and it’ll take a lot of hard work, but if anyone can do it, you can.”

The tears began to flow faster as you finally let the sob you had been holding back free. Squeezing Jason’s hand as tightly as you were able, you cried, “Thank you, Jay. Thank you for everything. I can’t even imagine making it through what comes next without my brothers by my side.”

Jason snatched his hand back from your grasp and pushed back in his chair, his expression growing dark as he spat, “Don’t. Don’t thank me. While you were sacrificing everything for Damian, while you were lying there dying, I was here. Too weak to help you when you needed me most.”

“Jay–”

“I wanted to be there, I did, I just…” His sharp tone crumbled into a near sob as he buried his face in his hands. “I was fine until he picked up the bat. Then it all came rushing back. All I could see was the Joker standing over me with that crowbar and…and I….” His hands muffled his cries, but you could still see the way his shoulders shook as he sobbed.

You had forgotten that they had sent a live feed of your torture to all of Wayne Industries which was probably how Bruce had located you and Damian. Jason never talked about what had happened to him all those years ago in that warehouse, but you had been waiting in the Batcave when Bruce had brought Jason’s body home. You still remembered the bruises and blunt force trauma that couldn’t have been made from the explosion. And you also recalled how the sight of your brother’s broken form sent you into a hysterical fit, not only over the loss of the boy you loved like family but also because it brought back all of the scars from your parents’ deaths. You had felt incredibly guilty later once Bruce and Alfred calmed you down that you had made Jason’s death all about you and your past traumas. But Bruce reminded you that your pain and grief was valid, whenever it hit you, and despite the circumstances, you needed to take care of yourself first or you weren’t going to be able to help anyone else.

Just like Jason needed to take care of whatever horrors he had relived before coming to help you.

It took a lot of determination and concentration, but you slowly moved your hand towards Jason. Luckily, he was sitting on your right side since that was the only arm you could move at the moment, but it still took an achingly long time to close the short distance between you.

As you lay your hand on his shoulder, his head jerked up. When he saw what you had done, his eyes—the blue magnified by the tears about to fall—grew wide. Smiling, you brushed your fingertips lightly across his cheek and said, “Jay, I understand why you didn’t come. There was nothing you could have done and you needed a chance to deal with your own pain. And I’m sorry that I was the reason you had to relive that experience.” 

Jason shook his head furiously and clutched at your hand. “No! This was not your fault! All you did was protect Damian. The only person to blame is that psychopath Moore.” His face darkened. “Bruce better be glad they threw that son of a bitch in Blackgate because if he had gotten away, nothing and no one would have stopped me from hunting him down and putting a bullet between his eyes.”

“See? You are such a loving, protective brother who would do anything for me.” His expression softened slightly. “Besides, you even just admitted. Moore is the only one to blame here. Not me, and not you. So, please, don’t beat yourself up over this. I’m still here and I need you now more than ever.” You squeezed his hand as tightly as you were able and after a moment, he returned both the squeeze and the smile. You nodded softly then changed the subject. “How is Damian handling all of this?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Jason nodded towards the other side of the room.

It took you a moment and quite a bit of pain to turn your head enough so your right eye could see where he was gesturing, but when you managed it, your smile grew wider.

Curled into a tight ball, Damian was fast asleep on the couch on the far side of the room. He looked so small and it reminded you that despite his upbringing, he was still just a kid, which made you feel better about your condition. If one of you had to be lying in this bed, you would have offered yourself up every time.

Jason chuckled softly to himself as he saw your face. “He’s barely left the room since they brought the two of you home. Bruce tried getting him to go back to school the last two days, but he flat-out refused. Said he wasn’t going anywhere until you woke up.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Damian.”

“Well, I think his actual words were ‘Tt. Father, I cannot be bothered with those trivial lessons while my sister’s fate is still uncertain. I am needed here. Yes, I have a geography test next week, but I have traveled to more countries than my so-called teacher could even possibly name. This is more important.’”

Despite the mocking—though fairly accurate—impression Jason had made, your eyes welled up with tears once more. Damian had called you ‘sister’. It was the first time you could ever remember him doing so. No. That wasn’t true. He had said it when Bruce and Dick had shown up to save them. In fact, the echoing word was the last thing you remembered before the world had gone dark. 

Swallowing hard to clear your throat, you asked, “Um, do you think…Would he be upset if I asked you to wake him up?”

“Yo! Demon Spawn! Wake up!” Before you could stop him, Jason hurled a pillow across the room so it slammed into Damian’s sleeping form. 

The kid instantly leaped to his feet in a crouched position, ready to take on any and all attackers. But he straightened up when he saw Jason’s smug grin and your weak smile staring back at him instead. Rushing to your side, he said, “Sister! You are awake!”

You tilted your head slightly to look at him better. “So are you. Sorry for the rude wake-up. That was all Jay.”

“Hey!” Jason huffed indignantly. “You asked me to wake him up and I did! You just never said how.”

Damian glared at him out of the corner of his eyes. “Yes, Todd has been exceedingly insufferable this last week while you have been injured—”

“W-week? I’ve been out of it for a week?” You felt your blood run cold. You knew things were bad, but for some reason the thought of you laying in this bed unconscious for the past 7 days made your condition seem so much worse.

Jason and Damian exchanged a worried look. Then Jason cleared his throat and said, “Yeah…. It's been eight days since you and Damian were kidnapped. They had to keep you in a medically induced coma for the first five days while they operated. Then when they brought you out, they had to dope you up with so many pain meds that you were out of it even when you were awake. They tried to lower your dose but they had to up them again when they removed the breathing tube and you wouldn’t stop moaning…So, yeah. It’s been a week.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow as tears began to sting your eyes. Obviously, it would have taken you time to recover from that level of injury, but a week? No, actually, eight days. And that was just the start of your recovery. The amount of time, therapy, and hard work it would take you just to be able to stand again, let alone walk or fight, was dizzying to think about. Despite the fact Jason had reassured you differently, you didn’t see how you weren’t done after this. How were you supposed to bounce back?

As the tears finally became too much and began slipping down your face, you whispered, “You all should have just let me go.”

“No!” The ferocity in Damian’s voice startled you and you looked over to see his small hands curled into tight fists as his face bore a determined scowl that could rival Bruce’s. “No. You do not get to give up. Not now. Not now that the worst of it is behind you. You never once gave up while we were captured. Despite everything that sadistic fiend did to you, you fought to protect me. We would not have been in that situation if it was not for me and I will repay my debt to you by remaining by your side to ensure you get through this.”

You stared at Damian for a long time, a mix of pride, adoration, and guilt stirring in your chest. Seeing how he wanted to stand by you and help you through what came next meant the world to you. The Damian who climbed into your car eight days ago wouldn’t have done so. However, you couldn’t let him make such a vow without knowing all the facts.

Shifting your eye to look at Jason, you muttered, “Can you give us a minute alone?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and his younger brother, but finally, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go let everyone else know you’re not only awake but coherent this time. They’ll want to see you.”  

“Thanks, Jay. I’ll have Damian let you know when we’re done.”

He nodded, shot Damian one last look, and left the room. 

Now that you were alone, you carefully motioned for Damian to take the chair Jason had been sitting in earlier and he silently did as you wished…for once. He looked so small compared to the memory of Jason’s hulking form sitting there just moments before and tears once more stung your eyes as it hit you all over again how young he was to have experienced what the two of you just went through. You hadn’t planned on having this conversation until you were a little better, but he deserved to know the truth and not continue blaming himself for what happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you said, “It’s not your fault, Dami. He was never after you. You were only there because of me.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “You have no proof of that. As you said in that warehouse, I am Father’s blood heir. If anyone was the target, it would have been me.”

You shook your head. “It was my car, Damian. The car I insisted you get in even though you didn’t want to. If I would’ve just let you walk home like you wanted–”

“They could have been monitoring me and adjusted their plans when I joined you in your vehicle. You still cannot be confident–”

“I know Moore.”

Damian blinked in surprise. “Yo–you what?”

You nodded sadly. “I know him. I didn’t realize it at first because it was so long ago and I’ve tried so hard to forget that day, but it was him. After I had passed out from Moore’s torture, they unhooked me from the chains and just let me drop to the floor. The pain of the landing woke me up for just a minute and I tried to beg them to put me back up because I knew otherwise they’d be coming for you, but I was in so much pain I could barely form a sentence. Moore saw I was awake and came to stand over me with that nauseatingly cocky look on his face.” 

You shuttered at the memory of it and knew it was an image that would haunt your nightmares for years to come. But you pressed on. “Then he said, ‘For what it’s worth, you should be proud. You died a lot more honorably than your parents did.’ And that’s when I remembered.”

Tears slipped from your eyes as you allowed all the walls and safeguards you had built up over the years to finally come down and you recalled the night your life changed forever. “It’s been so long and he was just a kid, no older than Tim. But then again, I was even younger.” Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Damian. “How much do you know about my life before Bruce took me in?”

Damian shrugged one shoulder. “Just what I said in the car. Your parents were tortured to death by a gang who left you tied up with their bodies until the police found you. Then when he heard what happened and that you had no one left, Father took you in.”

You nodded and wiped a tear from your eye. “My parents owned a little shop near Crime Alley at the time. It was a hole-in-the-wall thrift store that barely made enough to put food on the table but my parents loved that place. It was their pride and joy so when the local gang came by to demand protection money, they refused. They didn’t want their place associated with gangsters. Which of course the gang didn’t like. We lived in a small apartment above it and one night, the gang broke in while we were sleeping. I was only six at the time and I didn’t understand what was happening. I just knew some bad people dragged us out of bed and into the basement where they tied us all up to chairs. I was sitting between my parents as they begged and pleaded for our lives, but even then I still didn’t understand. Not until one of the men pulled out a knife.”

A humorless chuckle fell softly from your lips. “I guess in hindsight, I should have remembered Moore sooner. The way he tortured and hurt me was very similar to what the gang did to my parents. Just small cuts that got deeper and deeper. Small weapons that got more and more damaging until….” 

A small hiccupy sob slipped from your lips as everything came flooding back to you. Your father screaming in pain as the gang broke bone after bone and cut off his fingers one by one. Your mother hysterically sobbing as she begged them to let you all go. The way those pleas eventually shifted to just begging them to let you go. And then the eerie silence that fell across the room after your mother had taken her last breath. 

Damian took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It is alright, sister. You do not have to continue.”

You shot him an appreciative smile but shook your head. “No. It’s okay.” Taking several deep breaths to compose yourself, you continued. “There was one gang member who stayed huddled in the corner, refusing to watch as the rest of the gang had their fun.”

“Moore.”

You nodded. “I didn’t know it at the time, but yeah. He had started by anxiously pacing around at the back of the room but once things turned really violent….he couldn’t take it. He tried to run back upstairs but the gang forced him to stay and watch. Said he needed to learn how things were done. And after the other day, I’d say he learned his lesson pretty well.”

“And you are certain it was him?”

“Absolutely. I stared at him through most of it, partly because I couldn’t stand to watch what they were doing to my parents, but also partly because I could tell he was just as horrified as I was and yet he did nothing to stop it. I wanted to scream at him to help us, to do something, but I also was too afraid to speak up. And when they were done and the gang members left, he was the last one out of the room. He looked at me as if he wanted to apologize or set me free or…I don’t know. But instead, he just turned and ran up the stairs. The next time I saw him was when he walked into that room we were both chained up in.” You scoffed as you felt a lump growing in your throat. “I guess we picked up right where we left off, huh?”

The physical damage that had been done to you was hard enough to bear, but now realizing the connection your tormentor had to your past made you want to vomit. Moore may not have laid a finger on you back then, but he had been there to witness the worst day of your life. His friends had been the ones who did the same thing to your parents—only your parents hadn’t been lucky enough to survive. You wondered how long Moore had been planning this, how long he had wanted to finish the job that had been started all those years ago. Perhaps it was some sort of decades-long revenge plot since your parents’ deaths had eventually led to the arrest of most of the other gang members and the collapse of his gang. Or it was possible he just wanted to blackmail Bruce as he said and he thought using you to do it was just a bonus. Jason said Moore had been taken to Blackgate so once you were better, you could go try to get some answers. But at the moment, you weren’t sure if you even wanted them.

You had been so deep in thought that you only just realized that Damian had been silently staring down at your interlocked hands for the past few minutes. His expression was nigh-on unreadable and you were once again reminded of Bruce. Given enough time, support, and guidance, you could see him growing into a man worthy to carry on his father’s legacy. You just hoped he would want you to be around to see it. 

You wouldn’t blame Damian if his attitude towards you reverted back to how it was before all of this happened. After all, he was put through hell because of you. He had warmed up to you solely because you had offered yourself up to be tortured instead of him—yet he never should have been there in the first place. Maybe this would actually make your relationship worse. Maybe Damian would cut you off completely. Maybe—

“Sister, I cannot imagine how hard this realization must have been for you and I…I am sorry.”

His voice cut through your internal spiraling and you blinked in surprise. “Wh-what?” With all the scenarios you had swirling around in your head, hearing Damian apologize had never even crossed your mind. “But Dami you’re not…mad?” 

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Why would I be mad?”

“I’m the reason you were there. I thought once you knew the whole story and realized that, you would hate me for getting you dragged into everything. Or at least–” you dropped your gaze down to the bed “–at least I thought you’d go back to not really liking me.”

“Oh…” The small boy shifted in his chair. “I can understand why you may have come to that conclusion but knowing your history with Moore does not change how I feel about what you did for me. You saved me long before you remembered who he was or your connection to him. And even that still does not prove you were the one he was after, not me. I am the youngest and, as such, am perceived to be the most vulnerable and incapable of protecting myself—Tt, though in reality, it is Drake who fits that description.” 

You smiled as you shook your head. Tim would disagree with that statement, but Damian’s point was still valid. To those who did not know of his past upbringing or training, it would be easy to dismiss him as a young, spoiled, entitled brat who never had to lift a finger his entire life. But they couldn’t be farther from the truth. Despite being a kid, Damian had already experienced more than 90% of people would in their lifetime. Hell, when he was the same age you were when you watched your parents die, he had already been training for years with the League of Assassins. Moore had just gotten lucky when he grabbed the two of you: if Damian hadn’t woken up hurt and already chained up, he probably could have incapacitated every one of your kidnappers. 

Damian continued. “Regardless of who the target was, it does not change the fact you volunteered yourself in my place when they wanted to take me. And despite the pain you were in, you tried to hold on as long as possible so I would not be forced to take your place. How could any other detail matter except my sister loves me enough to die for me?”

The lump in your throat got bigger until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You managed to nod your head quickly and repeatedly as you choked out, “I would. Because I do. I do love you, Damian.” He stared down at the floor, shifting once more in his chair as his fist tightened around yours. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. You knew how hard it was for him but you could see he wanted to say it and that was enough. So, squeezing his hand back, you whispered, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back.”

His shoulders dropped with visible relief and he gave you a small, grateful smile. Then, in a tiny voice, he muttered, “But I do though.”

It was the final straw. Tears began flowing down your cheeks as a small cry burst from behind your lips. There was a sharp pain in your chest as you disturbed your injuries, but it seemed unimportant at the moment. You tried to control yourself as much as possible, knowing emotions and displays of affection bothered Damian, but it was all too overwhelming. For so long you had tried to get him to at least tolerate you, but this? This was more than you ever dared to hope for. 

Damian sat quietly as you took a moment to compose yourself. Despite the added pain you incurred from your crying, you couldn’t remember feeling this happy in a while…..or this worn out. Now that you had cleared the air with Damian and everything was better than expected, you realized how much you had been struggling to stay awake. 

Another wave of exhaustion hit you and it took almost everything you had to murmur, “I know Jay said everyone was waiting to see me but I think….I think I need to rest for a bit. Could you ask them to wait until I take a small nap?”

He nodded. “Of course, sister. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Dami.”

You expected him to leave but instead, he squeezed your hand hard and looked you dead in the eye. “I mean it. Whatever you need. You will heal and things will return to normal. And I will be by your side for all of it.”

You smiled up at him, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Thank you, Dami.” 

He laid your hand gently back on the bed before standing from his chair and walking to the door. He glanced over his shoulder at you one last time, nodded, and then disappeared.

With no reason left to hold on, you let yourself collapse back into the bed as you gave into the darkness that was dancing on the edge of your vision. 

And as you felt yourself being pulled under to unconsciousness once more, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite everything that had happened and the long road to recovery that lay before you, you had a father and four brothers who loved you and would be by your side through all of it. Because at the end of the day, that’s what family is for. And you were so thankful to have found this family. 

Taglist: @zebralover, @itzagothamcitysiren, @roses-and-ricex, @blackpearl2324, @po55um, @missborntodiex, @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog, @an-ever-angry-bi, @rukia-uchiha-98, @shipsforlif3, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @hyding-out-here, @555hikaii, @nik2blog, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hey so I just found your account and omg?? it's literally so amazing 😭✋

Anyways-I was just looking through a bunch of the twist monster au headcannons/stories, and I thought of a scenario that could be done!

Basically the cast reacting to gender neutral or female reader/yuu acting stuff out in their book they are reading like poses, dialogue, just genuine reactions to the text itself

ex. Throwing the book across the room and them being genuinely concerned that something happened bc reader is just staring off into space or cursing but what actually happened was either a character died/did something embarrassing/the mc and love interest finally kiss

Anyways that's all I had in mind hope you have a good day/night! <3

Omg thank you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the content! QvQ

Ah, books. Such a wonderful creation humans made to fill us with raw, pure emotion or shattering our hearts and souls into a million tiny pieces—only for us to read it again and again! Don’t you just love those moments as a reader? UvU

Except for cliffhangers. Readers have a love/hate relationship with it, writers adore cliffhangers! ÒvÓ

So, what happens if we take a bookreader!Yuu (they/them) and throw them into Twisted Monsterland where even the history books read like a world guide/omnibus to a game or TV series? Oh, and I took a bit of inspiration from a Disney princess comic and a Bill Watterson “Calvin and Hobbes” comic for two of these scenarios. 😂

/-----------/

“Jeez, you sure you’ve got enough books, Yuu?”

“The librarian wouldn’t let me check out more than ten at a time,” Yuu replied, their backpack and arms filled with thick books. “Wish I could’ve gotten ten more at least, but this’ll do for now.”

“Are you sure you can even read all those before next semester?” Deuce asked in concern. “Those look pretty…dense.”

“Oh, I’ll be done in a week. Maybe a week and a half if we get a lot of homework.”

“Funya?! You gotta be kidding me!” Grim said. “Can humans read that fast?”

“Not everyone. Some people are slow readers, but that’s okay since they enjoy it at their own pace while I enjoy it at mine. Only problem for me is choosing which one of these I want to read first!”

/Later that night/

“Yuu? It’s time to eat!” Grim called out. Silence greeted him as he stared at Yuu, who was sitting on the couch with their face practically buried in a book. Frowning, the chimera padded over to the couch and repeated, “Yuu! I’m hungry!”

Still the human didn’t seem to respond, their shoulders hunching as they turned the page.

“Yuu? Yuu!” Huffing, Grim crossed his arms as he glared up at them. “You’ve been reading for the past three hours! How much longer are you gonna read that book?”

“What’s going on, pal?” one of the ghosts asked as the trio appeared.

Gesturing his paws at Yuu, he said, “They’ve been reading ever since we got back from the library today, and now they’re not reactin’ to me. It’s dinner time and they haven’t made any food yet!”

Before anyone could even think of what to say, a loud, shrill squeal filled the dorm.

“Eeeeeee!!!” Yuu squealed, a huge grin on their face as they flopped to the side and kicked their legs like a nervous rabbit while holding the book against their chest. “Omg it happened, it happened!!”

“Mrah!? What?! What happened?!” Grim yelled, wings flared out defensively while his fur bristled. “Why are you yelling!”

“My new OTP!! They finally kissed!!” Yuu said, their eyes wide as they rocked from side to side. “They kissed!! Yes!! Yesyesyesyesyessssss!!!”

“OTP? What’s an OTP??” one of the other ghosts asked.

“It’s what we like to call the ‘one true pairing’ in a story,” Yuu explained, a positively giddy expression on their face with eyes shining brighter than the stars as they struck a dramatic pose. “It���s two characters who vibe with each other on a level that you just can’t help but want them to be together—and the author brought these two together!! Yeeeeeeeee, I’m so happy!!”

“And loud,” Grim grumbled, paws clamped over his ears. “Why are you standing like that?”

“It’s how the main character professed their love for the other!”

“…are all humans as weird as you?”

“Trust me, there are people out there that are way crazier in their excitement than I am right now.”

“Really?!”

“Oh yeah. Don’t even get me started on the fanfics people write.”

“Fan…fics?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child…”

/Two days later/

“Heeeey, lil’ Shrimpy~!”

“Mm…”

“Eh…? Hey, Shrimp…why are you ignorin’ us? It’s not very nice.”

“Now, now, Floyd. One mustn’t interrupt a reader when they’re indulging in such a riveting story.”

“Shh,” Yuu muttered, their brow furrowed as they hunched closer to the book. “I’m at the best part!”

Floyd frowned as he laid his head on his arms, the basilisk slumping against the table. “Man, this is lame,” he said. “You promised to come play basketball with me today!”

“Once I finish this part, we can go do whatever you want, okay, Floyd?”

Jade hummed in amusement as he said, “A rather daring proposition you just offered, Yuu.”

“We have to do a buncha reading for class anyway,” Floyd said with a bored expression. “And Crabby and Mackerel said you finished two other books already, so what’s the point of thi-”

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!?!?” Yuu shrieked, leaping out of their chair as Jade and Floyd recoiled in shock. Before the twins could react, Yuu had ducked back into their chair and pressed the book even closer to their face than before.

“…lemmie see that,” Floyd said, leaning over the table to grab it.

“No, no! It’s fine, go do something else!” Yuu said all too quickly, sinking even lower and turning away from Floyd’s reaching claws. “I think I heard Riddle in the hallway.”

“Lemmie see it!”

“No! You can’t read it!” Yuu cried out, bolting away from the table holding the book tight to their chest.

“Get back here, Shrimpy!”

“Noooo!!”

“Oh my,” Jade uttered, eyes wide for a moment before he chuckled. “Perhaps I should look into this book when they’ve finished it.”

/The next day/

“Oh no…oooh noooooo, I hate this so much!”

“Then why are you reading it?” Jamil asked, the naga curled around them. “If you don’t like it, just take it back to the library.”

“I can’t! It’s soooooo good!” Yuu said, practically throwing themselves backwards onto Jamil’s snake half with the book pressed against their face.

“Eh? But wait, you just said you hated it,” Kalim said in confusion.

“I hate it, but I love it so much,” Yuu told them with a whine, their head now touching the floor on the other side of Jamil’s snake body yet still draped over him like a cat. “This book will ruin your heart and shatter your soul into a million pieces!...you should read it too!”

“Given how dramatic you’re being, it might not be wise,” Jamil said with a sigh.

“Read it!”

“It’s okay, Yuu. We can read together! It’ll be more fun that way!”

“Kalim, no. You still need to study for the next potions exam.”

“Augh, I need someone to talk about this story with so we can lament in solidarity!”

“…have you been taking lessons from Rook lately?”

/Three days later/

“Um…is Yuu okay? They’re looking a little…tense.”

It had been several days since Yuu borrowed a stack of books, and already they had gone through nearly half of their hoard. Between classes and on breaks or after finishing tests, it wasn’t hard for students to notice the lone human with their nose between the pages of one book after the other. Even the researchers had taken note of Yuu’s behavior in between tests, making note of their expressions and how their body changes with each scene depicting their emotions. It was noteworthy how they reacted when a character in the story did something “cringeworthy and stupid” (as Yuu would explain when asked), it looked as though the human had swallowed a lemon.

At the moment they were sitting in Heartslabyul, yet another book in their arms as they sat on one side of the lounge. Cater had taken progression snapshots of Yuu’s body slowly curling into itself, eyes steadily growing wider and wider to the point it looked as though they’d bolt away in panic.

“They’re fine,” Grim told Trey as he munched on a snack. “They’ve been like this since they got all those books. That’s the pose they had last time when their Ohteevee smooched or somethin’.”

“Oh, you mean ‘OTP’, Grimmy,” Cater corrected with a smile. “That’s so cute! Our human has an OTP already~!”

“I’ve heard of hitting the books, but this is ridiculous,” Ace commented with a sigh. “They’ve been reading so long that I forgot what half their face looks li-”

“GRAAAAH!!!!”

SLAM! Fwump!!

“Gyah!?” the boys yelped, everyone staring at Yuu as they sat on the couch with a dark scowl.

“Yo, what the heck? Why’d you throw the book like that?” Ace asked, pointing at the large tome on the other side of the couch now.

“Um…Yuu?” Deuce began when they didn’t respond. “Are…you okay?”

“……I’m mad,” came the response, Yuu’s expression growing more annoyed as they stared off into space.

“About what?” Riddle asked in surprise.

Yuu’s gaze turned to the discarded book, their expression as though they had been betrayed by a trusted friend as they said, “Because my favorite character died, and I refuse to read how the book ends when there’s literally two freaking pages left! That’s not enough space to bring them back in a satisfying way!!”

“Y…you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ace grumbled with a sigh. “That big of a reaction just because a fictional character was killed off?”

“You weren’t there to see the struggles they went through! I saw them change from an annoying bully into a fully developed and vulnerable character who wanted to take charge of their life—and the author killed them off!” Jumping to their feet, Yuu marched towards Ace and Deuce’s room where they’d left their stuff and said, “Where’s my notebook? I need to fix this!”

“What are you gonna do?” Grim called out.

“Write a fanfic, because my scrunkly deserves to be happy!”

“Huh? Scrunkly??”

/Final day/

“Oh, Great Seven…what happened in your book this time?” Vil asked with a sigh.

Yuu sniffled as they tried to dry their tears, though it was difficult as more continued to flow down their cheeks. “I…I just finished my last book,” they said, their voice cracking a little with emotion as Grim pat their arm reassuringly.

“All ten books in a week?” Vil said in surprise. “That’s…impressive. Even so, why are you so upset? Was the story that horrible?”

“No…it…it…it was too good!” Yuu cried out, clutching the book so tight that their knuckles turned white as the tears flowed freely now.

“Ah…such pure, raw human emotion,” Rook crooned. “To express it so freely without fear…beaute!”

“Was the book really that good?” Epel asked.

“Yes!” Yuu wailed. “Now that it’s over, I…I don’t know what to do with myself now…”

Peering at the title, Vil gave a thoughtful hum and said, “Oh, that story. I hear there is supposed to be a spin-off book series. The first one should have released just the other day.”

“Really?!”

“Mrrr…now you’ve done it,” Grim grumbled with a sigh. “Here we go again.”

[luvhughes43]

crazy over you | jack hughes x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

request: I love your blackpink fc trevor insta edit!!! what about y/n whose sibling is a famous kpop idol and she ends up dating jack? maybe she could be mark lee’s sister, nct had a concert at newark a while ago!!

ynuser just posted !

ynuser

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ynuser ready for the show🪩✨

tagged: nct

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fanone she’s going to the show??🥹🥹

fantwo queen supporting her brother🫶

yourbff she changed her outfit immediately after these photos were taken btw

ynuser stop exposing me😭😭

yourotherbff it’s true she’s now wearing an nct shirt she turned into a crop top and some jeans !

yourbff and some sparkly boots !

ynuser okay okay we get it !!

“yn! were going to be late you don't need any more pictures!” your friend shouted as she started walking ahead of you. at the rate you were going you were going to miss the beginning of your brothers show. 

“just a few more just-” you yelped loudly as you felt someone's shoulder hit you. you stumbled, and your camera hit the ground with a clatter. before you could comprehend what was happening a hand was against your shoulder helping you to steady yourself.

“I’m so sorry!” a guy apologized, reaching down to retrieve your camera for you. 

“it’s okay” you replied a little disoriented as you reached out to grab your camera from him. “i should've been looking to where i was going”

“were you taking pictures?” the guy asked.

“Yn!” your friends voice shouted at you as she was now even further away.

your head turned to your friends voice and jack must’ve caught on to your situation because he offered to take some quick photos for you. you posed, and jack snapped away, both of you not saying much.

“my apology,” he said to you as he handed your camera back to you. 

you smiled in response. “thank you. I’m-”

“YN LN! I swear if you're not walking up these stairs!” your friends voice reverberated throughout the staircase. 

“I’ve gotta go! thank you!” your voice was loud as you ran the rest of the way up the stairs to meet your friend. you could hear the unnamed mans laugh echo throughout the staircase. “im jack by the way!” you heard him yell.

“THANKS JACK!” you yelled back as your friend grabbed you by the arm and began pulling you along. 

notification [instagran]: jackhughes has followed you

Instagram DMS:

ynuser: hey stranger

jackhughes: hey girl with the camera

ynuser hearted a message

ynuser: how did u find my insta?

jackhughes: your friend almost shattered my eardrum when she screamed your name so i just gave it a shot on here

ynuser: LMAOO😭 we were running late for a concert

jackhughes: haha that makes sense then! it sucks that you were late but i liked getting to meet you

ynuser: even with my friend nearly shattering your eardrum?

jackhughes hearted a message

jackhughes: even then

ynuser hearted a message

ynuser just posted !

ynuser

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ynuser last night in newark❤️‍🔥

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jackhughes no 📸 credits ?

ynuser thank you stranger👍

hugheswh0re now why was he taking pics of this girl...

hockeyfan hugheswh0re because hes a normal person and is allowed to be friends with people ??

yourbff had the best time and SOMEBODY met the cutest person too🤭

ynuser i dont recall meeting any cute people🤔

yourbff like u weren't blushing and giggling all the way home...

ynuser I WASNT WTF !!!

jackhughes just posted !

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jackhughes lifes been magic📸❤️

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yourbrother ynuser THE RING??

ynuser is an accessory !

yourbrother lets keep it that way❤️

brothersfan protective activated🤣❤️

ynuser stranger🥲💘

jackhughes danger😈🔥

ynuser 😐 ok

trevorzegras congrats man🔥🔥

liked by jackhughes

yourbff CUTEST EVER ! I PREDICTED THIS RELATIONSHIP !

trevorzegras can u predict our relationship?😇

yourbff 😐😐

fanthree SHES DATING AN NHL PLAYER??? OMG????

jacksfuturegf86: WHY? WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO ME?? PLEASE JACK THIS ISNT YOU! THIS ISNT YOU LOOK AT ME BABY PLS🙏🙏

from then on you and jack continued to dm each other until you eventually went out on a few dates. you were honestly surprised by how well the two of you got along. you were forever grateful for your brothers show in newark and for the fact that you were running late<3

[girlwiththeobsessions]

love sick, c. f.

previous part

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

vi. belly's birthday

TODAY WAS BELLY'S 16TH BIRTHDAY.

i had the day off from work, since it was her birthday.

laurel had breakfast on the table ready for belly, and susannah had gotten her baby blue and white balloons.

all of us were downstairs, waiting for belly, and finally, she came downstairs.

"morning, everyone!" belly said with enthusiasm.

"there's the birthday girl!" susannah hugged her. "looking like a vision in floral. happy birthday!

jeremiah leaned down to hug belly. "happy sweet sixteenth bells."

"belly's getting old finally!" steven teased. "happy birthday.

"happy birthday sweetheart." laurel hugged her with a warm smile.

belly laughed. "thanks everyone."

i hugged belly. "happy birthday, belly. mom made your pancakes."

"actually, uh- i'm not really hungry." belly told me and laurel.

"oh." laurel said, but i knew she was disappointed.

"shall we open gifts?" susannah shrugged.

"you're gonna love mine." jeremiah confidently told her.

one thing i did notice though, was conrad hadn't said happy birthday.

we went into the living room, to open gifts, belly had opened her gift from laurel, and it was a book.

"it's the latest edition." laurel spoke up. "i got it from a rare book dealer."

"thanks mom." belly said with no enthusiasm.

laurel rolled her eyes with a smile. "turn to the book marked page."

belly obliged. "oh, yeah i remember susannah telling us to recite this." belly laughed, all of us reciting the sentence.

"open mine now, belly." susannah handed her a gift.

belly opened the gift, and it was a pearl necklace. "oh wow, they're gorgeous, thank you, susannah."

susannah went over to belly, to put the necklace on her. "my mom gave me these pearls for my sweet sixteen."

"they look great on you, belly." i smiled at her.

"oh! i'm next." jeremiah gave a gift to belly.

"it's a good luck charm. to help you pass your drivers test." belly put the charm on her wrist.

"perfect. thank you."

steven threw a shirt at belly. "think fast!"

"wow steven! i can't believe you actually spent money on me." she sarcastically smiled.

it was a princeton shirt. "relax, i just didn't want you stealing mine when i get in next year."

"i didn't know you were still considering princeton." laurel said.

"you know, i think i'm gonna apply for some scholarships, and dad thinks i can get some financial aid." steven told her.

i went over to belly, handing her my gift, with a smile. "open it."

belly tore off the wrapping, opening the gift to see keys.

"what are these?" she asked with a smile.

"car keys. with the help of susannah, once you pass your drivers test, there's a car waiting for you, it's at home." i explained.

belly's jaw dropped. "y/n! thank you so much!" she went to hug me.

i laughed and hugged her back. "you're welcome."

"conrad, do you wanna give belly her gift?" susannah asked.

conrad stayed silent for minute before responding. "sorry, i forgot."

my heart shattered when i looked to belly, seeing her smile drop, her looking so sad. how could he forget?

"uh- that's cool." belly played it off. "i wasn't really expecting anything anyway."

"listen.. i gotta go." conrad broke the tension. "i promised cleveland i show him some knots today, so.. happy birthday belly."

"hey." jeremiah called to belly. "why don't we take my car and practice driving before we have to pick up taylor from the bus stop.

"okay." belly agreed. "y/n, wanna come?" belly asked me.

"no, you two go ahead, i have.. something to do."

i got up, going the same direction conrad went.

i had caught up to conrad, grabbing his shoulder, causing him to spin around, facing me.

"really? you forgot?" i asked with anger in my voice.

i was going to take a more.. calm approach, but i was just so angry, my emotions got the better of me.

"well-" he began to speak, but i already know whatever he was going to say was going to be stupid, so i just cut him off.

"listen, i don't know what the hell's going on with you, but you've been acting like an asshole." i insulted.

he rolled his eyes at me. "grow up." this wasn't the same conrad i had seen last summer, i looked into his eyes, he had no remorse for what he said. "i forgot a gift one year."

"it's not just that!" i was starting to lose my patience with him, using my hands to emphasize my point while i spoke. "you've been- just been a dick since we've gotten here! you weren't always like this."

"oh, so now suddenly you care? didn't seem like you did two summers ago." conrad stared coldly into my eyes.

are you serious? he wanted to do this?

"seriously?" i blinked a few times before speaking again, and i scoffed. "you wanna go there?"

conrad sighed, he could probably sense as well that this was starting to escalate. "just forget it."

"fine." i simply said, before walking away, leaving him there.

how could he say that i don't care about him? when that's all i've done for him.

TWO SUMMERS AGO

me and conrad were at the beach, there were so many stars in the sky, and it was pitch black outside.

we both couldn't sleep, so we had decided to go the beach.

"can't sleep?" he asked, seeing me downstairs.

i turned around to see it was him, a smile appearing on my face. "nah."

he motioned his head at the door, basically silently asking me if i wanted to leave. i nodded my head, putting on my shoes.

we were at the shallow part of the water, the water going up to my knees.

i looked at the sky, he glanced at me. "what do you see up there?"

"a star shaped like a bunny." i joked. "you see it?"

"yeah." he said, and i started to laugh.

"you liar." i splashed him with water.

his body turned to me and he splashed me back.

we kept on splashing each other, and i kept laughing.

he had grabbed my wrist to get me to stop splashing him, pulling me close to him.

i stopped splashing him, looking into his blue eyes, and he looked into my eyes.

he took the hand off my wrist and cupped my cheek, i looked down at his lips, getting more and more nervous by each second.

he started to lean in, and then he kissed me. i kissed him back. i couldn't help it.

i knew if belly found out, she'd probably hate me, she liked conrad since she was little, but i just couldn't help myself.

END OF FLASHBACK

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

[nickeverdeen]

Hey, I was wondering if I could get TLOU2 headcanons of Ellie and air-headed reader from the previous request? Basically what happens to them after Joel tells the truth about the Fireflies.

I imagine that unlike Ellie, Reader forgives and understands why Joel did what he did, since she wouldn't want to live in a world where Ellie was dead, even if it was a virus-free one. And Reader values life, not wanting to sacrifice hers, she'd just like to keep being a family with Joel and Ellie. She believes it's what they deserve after everything they've gone through (as selfish as some might call her belief).

When Joel dies, Reader is devastated and angry, going with Ellie to hunt Abby down. However, midway through, when Reader realizes she and Ellie are just hurting people, and a kid is involved (Lev), she gives up the hunt and returns home. Reader realizes revenge isn't giving them closure, and no kids deserve to be traumatized like they were. However, Reader waits for Ellie even after they've parted ways, as some part of her hopes Ellie will come to her senses, and Reader will never give up on her best friend.

Sorry for the length, and thank you in advance!

Ellie and air-head reader part 2

Warning: cursing, death

—————

A few years later you and Ellie grew up properly a bit in Jackson

Your bond grew close to a sisterly one

Ellie often helped you navigate social situations, understanding your awkwardness

She’s your wingman, guiding you through interactions with others in Jackson

Your shared immunity makes you both feel like outsiders at times

You bond over these feelings, creating a unique understanding between you two

You and Ellie decide to share a living space

You train together, ensuring you’re both capable of defending yourselves

Ellie’s practical skills complement your imaginative strategies, making you a formidable team

When Joel reveals the truth about the Fireflies, both you and Ellie are in shock

Obviously you gotta calm Ellie down a bit as she has a breakdown

The weight of the revelation hits you hard, given the shared immunity

This shared secret deepens your bond with Ellie

You both spend hours talking about what it means and what could have been

Despite being socially awkward, your comforting presence becomes a rock for Ellie

Your relationship with Ellie deepens as you navigate the complex emotions brought on by Joel’s revelation

You’re her confidant, and she’s yours

It takes a few days, but replaying in your head Joel’s truth, you start understand and forgive him

You can’t imagine living in a world without Ellie and believe Joel did the right thing

You comfort Joel, reassuring him that his choice was justified

You stress the importance of staying together as a family

Your dreamy and optimistic outlook helps to calm Ellie during her moments of turmoil

You and Ellie, with Joel’s occasional involvement, engage in community activities in Jackson, contributing to the town’s well-being and fostering a sense of belonging

You often advocate for Ellie during social situations, understanding her conflicts and helping her navigate interactions with others a bit

Your presence becomes an emotional anchor for both Ellie and Joel

You balance Ellie’s need for answers and Joel’s protective instincts, providing a middle ground that helps maintain harmony in your “family”

Ellie: “How can you be so okay with this? With what Joel did?”

You: “Because I wouldn’t want to live in a world without you either, Ellie”

The news of Joel’s death shatters you

Your usual dreamy and optimistic demeanor crumbles as you struggle to process the loss

You have an emotional breakdown, crying in anguish

Ellie is there, but you both are lost in your own grief

Your devastation quickly turns to anger

You channel all your pain into a fierce determination to find Abby and make her pay for what she did

Despite your usual preference for peaceful solutions, you decide to join Ellie on her quest for vengeance

You know this journey is dangerous, but your shared grief and anger bond you even closer

You and Ellie prepare meticulously, gathering supplies and planning your route

Your usual creativity comes in handy as you devise strategies and backup plans for the journey ahead

Before leaving Jackson, you share emotional farewells with the few friends you’ve made in the community

The journey is tense

You and Ellie are driven by a shared purpose, but the weight of your grief often leads to quiet moments of reflection and occasional outbursts of emotion

You and Ellie support each other through the darkest moments

Your bond strengthens as you share memories of Joel and remind each other why you’re doing this

Your roles balance out – Ellie’s practicality and survival skills complement your creative thinking and optimism, even in the face of anger and revenge

As you encounter various obstacles and enemies, you struggle with your conscience

The violence necessary for survival clashes with your inherent love for life

In moments of doubt, you draw strength from your memories of Joel and your determination to honor his legacy by helping Ellie find closure

During quieter moments, you and Ellie have deep conversations by the campfire

Midway through the hunt, you come face-to-face with the reality of your actions

The sight of innocent people and a child, Lev, makes you question the path you’re on and face a moral dilemma

You’re torn between your desire for revenge and the realization that continuing what you’re doing does more hurt than good

Your instinct to protect kicks in, and you realize that no child deserves to be traumatized as you and Ellie were

This shifts your perspective on the hunt for revenge

You grapple with a deep moral conflict

Your sisterly love for Ellie and your need to honor Joel’s memory are at odds with the violence and trauma you’re perpetuating

You have a heartfelt conversation with Ellie, expressing your newfound beliefs

But that only makes an argument arise and some very hurtful things are said and done

Despite the bond you share, you decide to part ways

Partly ‘cause she kidna kicked you out

You hope Ellie will come to the same realization, but you understand she needs to find her own path

You promise Ellie that you’ll always be there for her, no matter what, but in smaller afekt she doesn’t give a fuck

The journey back to Jackson is lonely and filled with reflection

You think about Joel, Ellie, and the future you want to build

The community in Jackson welcomes you back with open arms

You dive into your creative outlets using music to cope

Despite the uncertainty, you hold onto the hope that Ellie will come to her senses and return home

You never give up on her

You develop a routine of waiting for Ellie, often spending time at places you both frequented

Each day, you hope to see her return

You become deeply involved in helping the community, using your experiences to counsel others who’ve faced trauma

Your empathetic nature makes you a trusted confidant

You create a smaller memorial for Joel in Jackson, a place where you and others can honor his memory

Your theatre performances become popular in Jackson, helping others find solace and just turn off from worries

Your songs and paintings often reflect your journey and your hope for Ellie’s return

You write letters to Ellie, even if you can’t send them

The journey and your decision to return home foster significant personal growth

Everyday you check a book where a person’s name is written when they come back to Jackson to see if “Ellie Williams” or “Ellie Miller” isn’t there

[hutchersonsgurl]

Coldest Heartbreak - Clapton Davis Part 1

paring x fem reader and Clapton Davis

Warnings: 18+ MNDI smut jealousy revenge

Summary: You and Clapton have been best friends since childhood and you were always the quiet nerdy girl of the school but Clapton was the only one who really saw you for you eventually the two of you started dating 5 months ago but unfortunately Clapton only wanted to kiss you not in public and it really breaks your self-confidence and you feel like he values his popularity over you. You were gone a few weeks because of a family emergency but now you are back at school you had a makeover while you were away trying to be the girl that Clapton wanted you to be you have dark honey-blonde hair with dark roots and you got tan and wearing clothes that reveal your toned body.

you return to Grizzly Lake High School walking down the hallway with people looking at you like they have never met you before as you head to your locker you put earphones in and listen to music you get to your locker and open it and you can sense a pair of eyes on you and you turn around and see Clapton and his friends practically drooling over you you roll your eyes and pull out your books for the first two classes and as you turn around your face to face to them familiar brown eyes " Holy shit yn is that you?" Clapton asked in shock

"Go away, Clapton," you say annoyed

"Hey, come on I'm your boyfriend I'm supposed to complement you " He replies

" You told me to stay away from you in school Clapton" you respond

" Hey I never said stay away from me in school I just said keep our re; relationship on the down low" he responded

" way to make your girlfriend feel loved Clapton you know you can be such an ass you know that?" you responded

" you know I do love you, baby girl, it's just" He spoke but you cut him off before he could finish

" you know I changed my whole look for you because my own boyfriend is too embarrassed to let the world know we are dating" you replied

" I'm not embarrassed of you baby you just don't know how my friends are and I never asked you to change" he remarked

" well maybe you shouldn't of even asked me out because you are more worried about you care more about them then me" you responded

" That's not true and you know I love you Yn " He pleaded

"you know I heard about you being a player and using girls and I didn't believe it because I know you but then maybe I i didn't at all" you respond

"no, no don't say that baby you do know me" Clapton pleaded

"How can you say you love me but then do this to me?" You respond

" I do love you, you are the only girl for me YN you gotta believe me" he pleaded

"You have a funny way of showing it why does it take me changing my look to get you to even kinda act like a boyfriend in school?" you respond

" babe you could've been wearing a potato sack and I still would've loved you " he replies while grabbing you by your hips

" Really? Because what you say and do are two different things" you retorted

" nah babe you know my feelings for you are real and you know it" he responded looking at you with his brown puppy dog eyes

before you can respond the school's Mean girl Taylor walks over

"Man looks like you finally had a glow-up too bad it took you so long," Taylor says

" Taylor leave her alone this doesn't concern you" Clapton responds

" Uh, why are you holding her like that?" Taylor asked

Clapton immediately pulls away from you and you can feel your heart shatter right there

" just because you changed your look Yn doesn't mean someone like Clapton will want you when he can have me," she says flipping her blonde hair

The first bell rings and you turn around to start to walk to class

" wait do you still wanna sit with me in class?" he asks with his signature smirk

you don't answer him you just walk away wiping the tears off your face and trying to get far away from him

"Why did you have to open your damn mouth Taylor" Clapton snapped and walked away

" what? what did I do?" Taylor responds

Series Masterlist

Part 2

NOT EDITED

[goatcheesecak3]

Bus stop pt.4

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x F!reader

Click here for m!reader version

Check pinned post for masterlist and all previous parts

Includes: fluff, angst

Summary: Adam and y/n establish their relationship, but trouble ensues after a while of dating

Adam woke up early the next morning, his bedsheets were pulled over y/n sleeping soundly next to him as the sun crept in through the window and gently caressed them both. If the figure sleeping next to him wasn't enough to make him really believe that last night happened, then the evidence of the night before strewn across the floor in the form of clothes and an empty whiskey bottle would hammer the point home. Adam let a shuddered breath escape his lips, the moment was so perfect and fragile, he felt as though even breathing too loud could shatter it.

Adam hadn't really had any perfect moments in his life before, the closest he could think of was when he was five years old, his rascal of a best friend at the time, Scott, had pushed him off his bike and he'd run home crying to his mother. She had cleaned the scrape on his knee, kissed his forehead and told him how brave he was. Of course, that moment was sullied by his angry father smacking the back of his head and telling him to man up. A Ray of hope snubbed out by an evil man.

History had repeated itself for Adam in the jigsaw trap, when he had thought he'd found a friend in Lawrence. The comforting thought of a trustworthy companion coming back to save him, quickly replaced with John kramer himself, and the loss of all hope.

As much as Adam was enjoying this blissful moment in bed next to y/n, his heart raced. It seemed as though whenever he had something good in his life, something immediately came along to ruin it. He wished he could take this moment and bottle it, perhaps turn it into a scented candle or even better, inject it into his veins. He was so so desperate for this to never end.

Y/n stirred slightly in her sleep, rolling over and curling into a ball next to Adam's chest mumbling something that didn't matter. He pulled the duvet over her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her, before going back to sleep himself.

At around noon Adam woke once again, to the sweet sensation of a kiss on his cheek.

"Morning, handsome" a sleepy voice whispered from beside him. Adam peeled his eyes open gradually, before looking at y/n. Her hair was beautifully tousled and her eyes soft and dreamy, it was clear she hadn't been up for long either.

"Morning" he mumbled back with a smile.

"So what exactly is the protocol for something like this? You know, after last night" y/n asked, casually resting her head on Adam's chest.

"Protocol...?" Adam squinted his eyes

"You know, on a scale of "why are you still in my apartment" to "Let's stay in bed and cuddle all day" where exactly do I stand?" Y/n asked with a giggle.

"Hmmm... I gotta admit, the latter does sound pretty good" Adam chuckled, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

Adam and y/n never had the big "will you be my girlfriend" moment that most couples do, it just sort of happened. From that day onward it went without saying that they were in a relationship. The two of them would often frequent eachother's apartments, just to play house with eachother. Y/n would cook and Adam would do the dishes, Adam would take their clothes to the laundrette and y/n would fold and put them away. They filed the holes in eachother's lives perfectly.

Adam would often make reference to an article he once read about tarantulas and frogs living together in the amazon. The tarantula provided shelter and food for the frog, whilst the frog would protect the tarantula's eggs. He always thought that his and y/n's relationship was a bit like that, they both needed eachother and both helped eachother wherever they could. Y/n found this analogy cute, but was less keen when Adam called her his "little frog". In his defence, he really was trying to be romantic, he just wasn't very good at pet names and the like. It got a good laugh out of y/n though, and so whenever she needed cheering up, Adam would call her that stupid nickname until she cracked a smile.

For a while, everything was perfect, but as the months went by, the honeymoon phase began to wear off, and the couple had their first fight.

It was an evening in march, y/n had been preparing dinner in her apartment and waiting for Adam to come over after work. He'd quit his job as a stalker-for-hire and gotten some work at a small photography firm. The pay was okay, and the hours were decent- and it was far less dangerous- but Adam was no longer his own boss. He hated being spoken down to, and his new boss did just that. Of course, his boss knew exactly who Adam was from the news, and thought himself something of a mother Teresa for taking such a "troubled young man" in and giving him a job- and oh boy did he make sure Adam remembered that.

"There aren't many employers who'd take someone like you, you know. You're very lucky to have this job" he'd remind Adam whenever he slipped up.

On this particular day, Adam had spilled something in the redroom and damaged a few shots from a child's birthday party. It was nothing serious, and the images could be mostly cleaned up, but of course Adam was treated far more harshly that anyone else would have been. A slew of insults and colourful language was directed towards him, including several "I don't even know why I hired you"s and the odd "You're absolutely useless, Stangheight" thrown in here and there. It was safe to say that Adam was in a fairly sour mood when he finally finished work and headed to y/n's apartment.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Y/n asked as Adam arrived and threw himself down on her sofa. No kiss, no "Good evening," not even eye contact.

He sat down rubbing his forehead angrily.

"Adam, honey? Tell me what happened" she said, sitting next to him and trying to take his hand, which he quickly pulled away.

"I'm fine, work was just a real pain in the ass today" he grumbled.

"Let me fix you a drink, and we can work this out over dinner" she said, her voice nurturing and kind.

Y/n returned from the kitchen about 30 seconds later, and placed a glass of wine on the coffee table in front of Adam, who still hadn't looked up.

"Dinner just needs a little while longer. Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime?"

Adam shook his head, like a sulking child.

"Adam, please talk to me. We can't fix whatever's troubling you if you don't talk" she insisted.

Y/n was being perfectly reasonable, but to Adam, who had heard nothing but beratement and orders all day, just interpreted "Please talk to me" as yet another order.

"Oh my god y/n, just leave it!" He snapped,  "you don't need to try and fix everything, I'm a grown man for Christ's sake. Stop talking to me like I'm a child."

Y/n was hurt, but he wasn't one to sit there and let a man see him cry, so he fought back.

"Don't you talk to me like that, in my own home as well? What the fuck is up with you?" She bit.

"I'll talk however the fuck I want to"

"Not in this apartment you won't"

"Fine" Adam stood up

"Fine!" Y/n watched as Adam stomped over to the door, and left,  slamming it hard behind him.

Now that she was alone, y/n finally felt safe to cry. She pulled the food out of the oven and set it on the side, no longer feeling hungry, and brought the bottle of wine over to the sofa from the kitchen. She drank Adam's untouched glass and then poured herself a refill. For about an hour, she sat crying softly and watching some mundane sitcom, trying to distract herself. Adam was stressed, stressed people snap, that's understandable. She attempted to rationalise with herself, she'd call him tomorrow they'd talk it through, and Adam would apologise. But she felt little comfort.

Just when she thought about turning in for the night, she heard a knock at the door. Before she opened it, she noticed a little piece of paper sticking through the gap under her door. It was a piece of card folded in half. In the front was a little sketch of a tarantula and a frog holding hands, and inside, written in scruffy handwriting was a note.

Tarantulas have a nasty bite, but they should never bite their frogs. I'm sorry I shouted, I shouldn't have taken my work stress out on you. I love you so much, please forgive me?

-Adam

Y/n wiped a tear from her eye and slowly pulled the door open. There, Adam stood with his hands in his pockets and his head hung.

"I'm sorry, froggy" he said timidly.

Y/n wrapped her arms around Adam and pulled him in for the tightest hug she'd ever given.

"Forgiven" she whispered in his ear.

"D'ya think we could maybe restart the evening?" Adam asked, smiling awkwardly.

Y/n pulled him by the hand into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

"I think that can be arranged" she smiled.

A/n thank you so much for great response I've had to this story!! My ego is really enjoying being watered and fed for once teehee<3

Comment to be tagged in part 5

Requests are open! I'm looking to write some Adam one shots, so definitely ask if you have any ideas! Check my pinned post for details and masterlist <3

[nalgenewhore]

our little corner of the world

elide x lorcan, modern/gilmore girls world, newly established relationship + municipal politicking tomfoolery, word count: 3125

It’s a perfect morning - a peaceful one. Sun streams through the window, but a strategically placed tree shades the sleeping couple from being blinded by the brightest rays. 

Elide sleeps with all four of Lorcan’s pillows piled beneath her head while the man has made himself comfortable against the flat mattress. The migration happened during the night. She has one of his arms and clutches it like a personal plush, her cheek smushed against his bicep. All is calm until it’s shattered by his ancient alarm.

She whines, most displeased, as Lorcan reaches over to slam the button. “Forgot to turn it off,” he says by way of explanation, still halfway to consciousness.

“Bad alarm, bad, bad alarm,” Elide mumbles. She comes out of her cocoon of blankets and pillows to burrow against him. “What time is it?”

Lorcan strokes her hair. “Early.”

Her face is pressed into his chest; she leaves a kiss above his heart. “Hate early. Must kill early.” As much as she resents the alarm for disturbing their rest, she knows it’s a good thing because otherwise, she would’ve slept the whole day away.  “I gotta get up.” Elide slits her eyes open and slowly takes in Lorcan’s apartment. She’s never been able to appraise it from this angle before.

“Why?” His arm tightens around her.

“Work. Bookstore. Buy books for bookstore.”

“I’ll buy you all the books you want if you stay,” Lorcan promises.

“You’d do that anyway,” she grins against his warm brown skin. Despite her words, Elide’s limbs remain immobile. “I need coffee.”

He scratches her head. “You drink too much of that stuff. It’s stuntin your growth.” Elide has no quippy reply for his comment (she’d need coffee for that). “And I don’t have coffee up here, s’all in the diner.”

She makes a noise like she’s crying. “Downstairs? I have to go all the way downstairs?”

Lorcan sighs, “Gimme five minutes, and I’ll get it.”

“Mnh-mnh, big guy, you - stay.” Elide kisses his chest three times before pushing herself up. Her boyfriend looks up at her through slitted eyes, one brow raised in question. She doesn’t usually decline his offer to do something for her if she doesn’t want to. “You deserve lots and lots of rest.”

His confusion melts into a smug smirk as he recalls the previous night. “I mean,” he huffs a small laugh, “half of that was you.”

She smacks him with a pillow, “It was not, and you know it.”

“Maybe I do.” Lorcan has already closed his eyes once more. As she slips out of bed, he asks, “Where’re you goin? Wait, woman.”

But Elide has already buttoned up his flannel over her bare body and scampers over to the door. She goes down to the diner without a worry in the world. 

And just as she’s thinking about what she’ll plan for their date tonight, Elide realises that the diner is not, as she assumed, closed and empty. She freezes in the archway like a deer in headlights. The usual breakfast crew is there, all sitting in their normal places. It’s so normal that even Elide’s spot at the bar is empty.

Silence falls over the diner. Somebody’s fork clatters onto their plate. Coffee is choked on. 

Without a word, she turns and flees back to Lorcan’s apartment. 

She slams his door behind her, much to his chagrin. “Why so loud,” he mutters.

Her cheeks are flaming red as she scurries back to his bed. Elide stands above him with her hands on her hips. “Lorcan.”

He lifts his arm off of his face. His eyes dip to his shirt. “Why’re you wearin that?”

“To go get coffee. Downstairs.”

Lorcan blinks, then rubs his eyes. He sits up, “You- went downstairs to get coffee?”

“Well, you don’t keep any upstairs.”

“The diner’s open.”

Elide opens her mouth in a farce of shock. “No, really?”

He looks down again. “You walked into the diner like that?”

She pulls a face and sits down on the edge of his bed, one leg tucked beneath her. “I didn’t think the diner could open without you.” 

“Luca opened for me,” Lorcan points out unhelpfully. He reaches over to rub her thigh supportively. 

“Well, he did, with a floor show.” Elide tilts her head as she looks at him, her hand finding his. “I guess everyone knows now.”

Lorcan leans in to give her a small kiss. In an effort to soothe her, though it doesn’t really work, he says cautiously, “I don’t hear a mob after you. Maybe they won’t care.”

“Right. It’ll be town gossip for, what, a week?”

“A few, maybe.”

Elide tips her forehead against his. “In six months, it’ll be old news.”

“You got it, sweetheart.” He lightly bites her pouty bottom lip. “Where’s your coffee?” She gives him a look, and Lorcan nods, “I’m getting your coffee.” With a great big groan, he hauls himself out of bed. In doing so, he leaves a perfectly warm spot for Elide to lie back down in.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” she croons.

He shakes his head as he dons his daily uniform of baggy jeans, a t-shirt, and yet another flannel from the unending supplier of flannels (his closet). 

“Can you get me coffee to go, too? And make it iced, please.”

“The only way I’m gettin you two coffees before seven is with breakfast too.” With his hands on his hips, he stares her down till she concedes, never one to wantonly fuel her coffee dependency.

“Make it a breakfast burrito, and you got a deal.”

✵✵✵✵✵

“How in the hell did I get rooked into this,” Lorcan grumbles as he locks the diner doors. He sports an impressive glare when he faces Elide. 

“Um, I’m irresistible?”

He nods like that’s a given. “Yeah, well, have I mentioned I hate town meetings? It’s an hour of Darrow pushing his fascist control of this town. We’re there to listen to his propaganda.”

“Oh, wow, someone’s peppy tonight.” She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and tucks herself in tight next to him as they walk across the square. “You usually save the big words for later.”

Lorcan gives her another displeased look.

Elide chuckles. “Will you feel better if I promise we won’t stay for long? Just enough to get the headlines. And,” she reaches into her purse, “I bought chocolate raisins just for you, even though you know I find them to be an abomination - an affront to the very institution of candy.” She shakes the box in front of him till he cracks a grin.

He takes the chocolate raisins happily. “Alright, fine, I’ll behave tonight. But do not get used to me coming to these town meetings. Or any other town gathering for that matter. I won’t go just because you like ‘em.”

She nods sagely, “Other than tonight?”

“Other than tonight,” Lorcan concedes as they walk up the steps into the town hall. He sighs before opening the door to hold it for Elide.

And while she steps in past him, she says, “And next Thursday.”

“No- what the hell is next Thursday? I did not agree to next Thursday.”

“Um, shh,” she gestures to the town meeting they’re ten minutes late to. “Don’t interrupt, baby, it’s rude.” A cheeky grin plays on her lips.

Lorcan tugs on the back of her leather jacket, and Elide ignores it, focussed on finding their seats. 

She spots Aelin next to Rowan, who waves them over. “We saved you some,” Aelin stage-whispers as she moves her jacket and purse. “I almost fought Mort, these people are animals.”

Elide thanks her friend and takes her seat. Lorcan nods to Rowan, who offers a commiserating smile (they have similar opinions on the town politicking).

The matter on the floor right now is the recent fender bender between Borte, the town mechanic, and Yeran, her fiancé and business partner. After Lorcan sits, he drapes his arm across the back of Elide’s chair, letting her lean against him. They watch Borte and Yeran reenact the accident. She accuses him of not looking in his mirror before he backed into the street, thus smashing his back end into Borte’s front bumper as she turned the corner. 

“I didn’t see you, and I distinctly remember looking into my mirror,” Yeran insists.

“Liar! You did not see me,” Borte argues back. “You came outta that driveway like it was your personal F1 track!”

Lorcan lowers his head to ask Elide. “Did we really come here to watch Borte and Yeran fight, again?”

“That’s not the whole reason,” she says. She holds up a red vine to him. “Hungry?”

He takes the candy, even though he doesn’t really like them. “We’re getting dinner before the movie,” he points out, seeing as Elide has a deep variety of snacks and candy stashed in her purse.

“Uh-huh, I know.”

With a smile, he moves his arm to her neck in an effort to tug her closer and kiss her head. She rests her hand on his thigh, settling in for the show. 

Ten minutes later, Darrow puts the issue to a vote. Elide eagerly raises her hand in Borte’s favour (it goes without saying that Lorcan abstains from voting). Unfortunately for Borte, the majority sides with Yeran, and the fender bender issues ends with a decisive strike of Darrow’s gavel. Borte walks back to her seat after making a vaguely threatening gesture to her fiancé.

“Alright, let’s move on to the next order of business,” Darrow peruses his agenda, then raises his brows as he nods, “Ah, yes, well.” He pushes his glasses up, then steeples his hands on the podium, looking over the crowd. “A very serious matter has been brought to our attention.”

In a lowered voice, Lorcan says to Elide. “Who d’you think drew the chalk outline this time?”

She smothers her laughter against his arm, “Shh, Darrow’s gonna kick us out.” The matters are never serious; they have never been serious in the history of Orynth, but damn if they don’t make for the best entertainment.

“I would like to bring to the floor for discussion the possible negative ramifications of the bookstore owner and the diner owner dating.”

Elide and Lorcan sit up straight. She gasps, “That’s us.”

“They’re talking about us.”

Darrow continues over the general hubbub of the audience. “As we’ve all been made aware, the relationship we feared for some time has emerged, and we need to carefully consider whether or not we can support this.”

“Oh, for Anneith’s sake,” Elide exclaims.

Lorcan gestures between the two of them, raising his voice, “Yo, we’re sittin right here.”

“Yes,” Darrow smiles, holding his hand out to Lorcan, “we see you, Lorcan, and as a member of the town, you are welcome to voice your own opinion.”

The man shakes his head, turning to Elide as he speaks, “'Voice my opinion', it’s my—“

Darrow sharply raps his gavel, which makes Lorcan’s eye twitch and a fierce frown come down on his brow. He folds his arms across his chest.

“I open the floor up for discussion.”

“Hey—“

Several hands fly up, some even waving to snatch Darrow’s attention. He shrugs, “Alright, I’ll start.”

Elide rubs Lorcan’s arm to work him off the ledge.

“Lorcan’s diner is a staple in this town,” the selectman starts. “Most of us eat there on a regular basis. The Perranth Book Emporium, though newer than Lorcan’s diner, has also become very important in our community of Orynth.” He uses his hands to gesture things coming together as he makes his next point, “The commingling of the owners of these two establishments can only set the stage for disaster.”

“What is he talking about,” Lorcan grumbles.

“He’s not happy with our commingling,” she giggles.

“I am.”

“Well, why should that matter? Think about the consequences.”

But of course Darrow isn’t finished. “Think of the consequences, people,” he insists, leaning over the podium. “What will happen when the relationship goes sour, as, let’s face it, most of Elide’s relationships have so far?”

“Hey,” Elide speaks up, her eyes darting around the hall as people nod in agreement. Lorcan watches hurt briefly cloud her eyes and thins his lips, settling into his chair as he levels a deadened, violence-promising glare upon Darrow.

“We’ll have to choose. Soon you’ll be a Lorcan or an Elide - you’ll either get to eat or read. And that’s bad for the economy, bad for the town. So,” Darrow raises his hand, “I vote against this.”

“It isn’t a voting matter,” Elide calls out, but her voice is drowned in the crowd.

Philippa cautions, “I think you’re overreacting, Darrow. What’s wrong with a couple youngins in love, huh?”

“People, do I have to remind you about Lithaen and Chaol, huh?”

“Who cares?” Lorcan crows.

“Well, you know, they fell in love - big romance,” Philippa says, and the audience murmurs in agreement.

Darrow nods, “And for a while, it went very well, synergistically. They seemed to match, until Lithaen met Roland.”

“Oof, that was bad,” someone says. “The whole town split right down the middle.”

“Eventually, the hostility forced Lithaen to move.”

“And as for Chaol, well,” Philippa winces, and there’s a general murmur of sorrowful agreement.

Seizing the moment, Darrow capitalises on the town’s unsureness. “Those storefronts remained empty for a year - no one wanted to be there.”

The people sitting beside Lorcan and Elide say something to the tune of ‘maybe he has a point’. He’s seen a lot of insanity (Elide insists it’s just small town quirkiness) in this town, but this is too much. “You people are psychotic, you know that? One day someone’s gonna do a study on you, Darrow.”

The crowd erupts into energetic speech, some voices like Aelin and Fenrys egging the others on, some agreeing with Lorcan that this is absurd and to live and let live, while others take Darrow’s side. He bangs his gavel to restore peace, but it only worsens the cacophony.

Elide’s wincing, holding one hand to her ear, “Ok - this is a little much.” She waves her phone, tilting her head to the door. “I have to call the warehouse.”

Lorcan nods, “Save yourself.”

As she stands, she says, “Don’t take it to heart, it’s just Darrow being Darrow.”

“Uh-huh.”

He won’t listen to her, she knows, and Elide leaves so she can make the call to her wholesale guy. Right now is the only hour she can catch him with the time zone differences.

It’s a short call, only ten minutes, and she thinks foolishly that the whole issue is done with.

All her hopes get dashed the minute she steps foot back inside. In five minutes, Darrow has put out charts and graphs of the town, different sections segregated in either purple dots or black stripes. The general volume rises to incensed chaos as he taps the posters with his retractable telescopic pointer. Elide’s mouth drops open; she looks around in dismay. Now Lorcan will never come to another town meeting. 

In the midst of it all, the most shocking thing is that Lorcan is still firmly in his seat. She goes over to him. His elbows brace on his thighs as he bounces his leg up and down. 

“-don’t make the northwest of the lake Elide’s spot,” Mme Florine announces with a resounding slam of her cane. “Everyone knows that’s where Lorcan fishes.”

Elide mutely realises these are charts of the town in the event of their breakup. The purple dots represent her proposed areas, the black stripes Lorcan’s. She dumbly sits back down as Mme Florine and Brullo start shouting at each other across the hall. 

Before she can say a word or even think about something to say, Lorcan is up on his feet. “Alright, I’m done with this,” he announces, his voice booming over the others. He stalks up to Darrow’s podium. “This relationship is mine.” Lorcan rips the charts off their stands, sending them to the town hall floor. He points at Darrow, “Not yours.” He turns around and speaks to the crowd. “Not yours, not yours, not yours,” he sees Elide and specifies, “yours, and no one else’s.” Gesturing between him and Elide, Lorcan repeats, “Ours, and no one else’s. There’s not going to be a vote, and it’s not going to be a matter for the town hall on whether or not I get to be in a relationship with Elide, because we are in a relationship.”

Elide grins, big and cheesy.

Darrow sputters, “But- in the event of a breakup—“

“There’s not going to be a breakup,” Lorcan snaps.

In the crowd, Borte heckles, “Isn’t he the optimistic fellow?”

He rounds on her, his jaw tight enough to crack a molar. “Fine. If - if - Elide and I ever break up, I will close my diner, and I will move far, far away to a place where they’re never heard of Orynth, and you will never hear from me again. Happy? Every section can be purple polka dots.”

“Are you willing to sign an agreement that attests to that,” Darrow leans over the podium.

“Sure, and then I’ll wipe my ass with whatever you write that down on,” Lorcan promises.

“There’s no need to be crass,” Darrow tuts his tongue. He turns to one of the council people. “Get that down, and keep our notes far away from him.” Addressing the assembly, Darrow bangs his gavel again, “The issue of Lochan and Salvaterre versus Orynth has been resolved. Meeting adjourned, and we’ll see you all next week!”

Everyone stands, still in a tizzy about the new developments and Lorcan’s outburst (his stoic reputation far outweighs that of his temper, and he’s not known for public displays of anything really). He puts the boards to the side, and when he turns, Elide is standing there as she bounces on her toes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He bends down to kiss her cheek. He feels a little embarrassed about his outburst now. “Uh, sorry about-“ he gestures at the boards, “that whole… show. I know you like these meetings an’ stuff, I just—“

She tugs him down and cuts him off with a kiss, catching him off guard. The balance is off, but before she can fall flat on her ass, Lorcan catches her around her waist to keep her upright. When they break apart, they don’t go far.

“You should defend my honour in public more often.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’d really move away if we broke up?”

He cracks a grin, “But there’s not going to be a break up.”

She nods, “Right you are.”

✵✵✵✵✵

an: total rip off of s5e3 but anyway ! hope u enjoyed :)

tag list: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialend @the-regal-warrior @shyvioletcat @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin @julemmaes @sunshinebingo

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

How would the ros react to mc wanting to break things off in the relationship stage?

So very sorry I took forever to answer this!

Oh how you hurt me, I like a pinch of angst but break ups always wreak me. Kinda funny since I have actually never been through one myself yet.

Their specific reactions I gotta keep saved for when I present this option in game but for now I will summarize.

Cassandra: Hurt but much too prideful to show it. She is calm and collected as she calmly asks why and if there is anything that can be done to avoid this. If there is no saving the relationship she thanks you for the time/memories you have given her, she then bids you farewell and wishes you the best. She will be a crying mess in private and her dad will take her out hunting to comfort her, he may or not tell her to visualize that she is shooting you instead. It will take time but she will eventually move on, however MC will sadly always be her first love.

Valeria: Tries to reason with you and begs you not to go. Cries a whole lot and yells for you just to leave then, before she calls her brothers. MC better not come around her village anymore, Valeria is the town's ray of sunshine and nobody will tolerate you breaking her heart. Her brother's least of all, it's on sight if they see you. The breakups hurt lingers for majority of the following year, Valeria is young and like young people do; she does eventually grows up. She moves on in time and finds someone else, her time with MC was a learning experience. One she does grow from because the next time MC sees her she will be tougher, less naive and trusting.

Tomas: For the love of God, please do not break my son's heart. I honestly don't even want to think about this but if he let you in and you decide to leave? Congrats, you are an asshole and just cemented the fact that he will never be vulnerable or let anybody else in for the rest of his life. Assuming you did not cheat on him; he will hate you but still long for you. He keeps everything he has of you and curses your name as he holds the last remaining bits of your memory for dear life. He would take you back in a heartbeat, curses God while silently praying you would change your mind and come back home to him. If you did cheat?... You are absolutely dead to him. He loathes you and curses the day he ever met you, prays daily for your demise.

-

Ludovica: My poor brain child. Begs you not to go and promises to do absolutely anything you could ever ask of her, if it means you will stay. MC was the last light in her life, the one she prayed for. The knight in shining armor who was supposed to save her and love her truly. She always knew deep down that those sort of fairy tales were mere fantasy but she really saw you as something right out of a storybook. If MC leaves her after she lets them in, she would probably have a really bad mental break as you just shattered her hopes and dreams. Her servants would become her caretakers as she would likely become completely catatonic as a result.

Aurelio: Doesn't seem too bothered, looks somewhat disappointed but honestly understands. He wishes you well and lets you go, the local news for the next couple of months will be filled with his scandalous escapades as he tries to take his mind off of you the only way he knows how. Him and relationships never last so he can't say he is exactly surprised but he is hurting because he had really hoped this time would be different. He really did like you.

Elio: Um, you taught him how to feel emotions and truly love another person besides himself; and now you wanna leave? That's cute, you might think your relationship is over but he sure as hell doesn't. He will follow you around like a lost puppy and act as if you never wanted to end things, flat out ignores you when you mention breaking up. In time, he might let some physical distance grow between you; he might even let you think you 'fell in love' with someone else. But he knows you're still his, and soon you will too.