#and now I feel just as bad as I did six months into the worst crunch of my animation career
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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 1
[all chapters here]
summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…
notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers
a/n: Was I the only one who turned 18 a month into their senior year and then proceeded to spiral and become The Worst version of themself possible?? Well, this fic is semi-inspired by that shitty part of my life lmao.
Reader figure skates though. I can’t figure skate, hurts my feet lol.
I never expected to write a fake dating story, but Eddie Munson has had me bewitched for nearly 2 years now, so here we go.
(if you'd like to be added to a tag list, pls let me know!)
wc: 3.9k
Chapter One
The idea came to you during a student council meeting as the class president was droning on about the ‘85 homecoming preparations: you needed to do something crazy, something completely and utterly out of character.
Maybe it was because of your ex breaking up with you just weeks before school started. Maybe it was that senior year itch. Maybe it was the realization that you were turning 18 next week. Hell, maybe you just woke up that morning with a strong sense that the things in your life were no longer satisfying you.
Whatever the cause, since the start of your senior year, you’ve just felt so off.
Your ex, Duncan, breaking up with you right before school started was a low blow, and an absolutely shitty feeling - you didn’t date much, but when you did, it was never the guy that ended things. It wasn’t shitty because you were in love and oh so heartbreak, it wasn’t shitty because you saw a future with him. It was shitty because of how goddamn embarrassing it was.
To your peers, you were a couple that made sense, and in fact people had been urging you to go out for a while. And, obviously, you had grown to like him, considering that you were in a relationship for six months - you never would have put up with him for that long if you didn’t actually like him. But the fact that he broke up with you, and not the other way around, left a sour, spiteful taste in your mouth.
So, perhaps it was that break-up that made you feel different this entire month. Or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, which made you realize just how close you were to legal adulthood. Whatever the cause, every single aspect of your life up to this point suddenly came under your deep scrutiny. You just weren’t… happy?
That made it sound bad, but what were you enjoying right now? What got you excited every day? As you sat in the student council meeting, zoning out since the very start, you came to think that maybe you had nothing going on right now that you genuinely wanted in your life.
Hell, you weren’t even on the student council because you enjoyed it, Janet just dragged you into it back in your sophomore year. You figured she loved the sense of importance it gave her. She and everyone else in the council probably got off on how important they felt, the dictators of Hawkins High School.
You always ran in this crowd, and before you never questioned it. The popular kids, the rich kids, the successful kids. You don’t remember ever choosing these friends and acquaintances - if anything, it seemed that these peers were all a constant, as if they’d always been there from the very start. You figured it was the natural state of the world - as the daughter of one of the richest men in town, you were predestined to end up here. Not here as in the student council, surrounded by other spoiled rich kids debating the difference between turquoise and cyan. But here in an even broader sense - in a finely curated life, in all the “right” circles, on the path to either greatness or becoming the trophy wife of greatness.
Up until now, you’d never questioned it. Yes, mom and dad, you were a popular kid whose free time was fully booked between college prep, figure skating, student council, dates with a cookie-cutter boyfriend, and everything else under the sun. Yes, mom and dad, you were doing everything they all told you too because it would look great on your college applications, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, because that’s how things have always been done.
It started to dawn on you maybe a week or so into the school year just how mundane you were - you never questioned your time spent skating or on extracurriculars, you never went against the order of things as dictated by only the most popular of your peers. That’s just what was done, what was always done. But after your ex dared to break up with you, you came to realize recently that maybe all of this wasn’t what you wanted - maybe it was time to start making some choices for yourself instead of worrying what your parents told you or what your peers thought or what to do to keep your boyfriend semi-happy.
So, you started to consider what exactly it was that you wanted. And that proved to be more challenging than you anticipated, which probably would have sounded extremely pathetic if you had said it to any of the people sitting next to you.
Did you like figure skating? Of course, it was your idea after all. What you didn’t like was the pressure from your mother to train and become an Olympian, a feat that was never your intention when you took up the sport at six years old. Besides, you told her, you were way past the age for trials, you’d never get in (or, at least, that’s what you told her, because how the hell would you know whether or not there was a cut off age).
Did you like your friends? You thought so - you’d known them virtually your entire life, so you never questioned your relationship with them. But proximity didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with likeability. Maybe some of them you actually liked, but the rest? No, they were just around because they always had been.
Did you like your relationship before Duncan broke up with you? No, probably not. Of course, your opinion of him and that entire relationship was soured now, but even at the time, you were probably just going through the motions, doing things that couples do without any real heart in it.
So… What did you want? What did you actually like?
It was jarring to realize that your entire life had been dictated and finely tuned for you from the moment you were born, that even the things you wanted had been molded into new shapes by your parents or your peers or your teachers.
Once you realized how little of your life was in your own hands, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You always saw yourself as someone who was in control, as someone who couldn’t be told shit. And yet, you came to realize that that was far from the truth. It was as if suddenly everything about your life was something you hated. You hated your classes, you hated your friends, you hated running in the same circle as your ex, you hated all your obligations. Through the first few weeks of senior year, all you felt was frustration, disinterest, and absolute boredom with everything around you. Something had to change. And during the bullshit student council meeting, you became determined to make it happen.
So, over the course of that boring as all hell meeting, you tried to figure out what you wanted, and how you were going to get it. You set a goal for yourself, silly but helpful considering the structure you were so accustomed to: you’d set your plan in motion on your birthday. New year, new you, right?
Once you gave yourself that deadline, you then had to think about what exactly you were trying to accomplish - yes, you wanted to make some major changes, you wanted to, in a way, become a new person, but how were you going to do that?
You settled on four key things to keep in mind:
You wanted to piss off your parents big time - your dad barely acknowledged your existence and your mom coddled you, so actually upsetting them would be a feat unto itself. You had to become so awful that even your mother would stop making excuses for you.
You needed to drop your friends - the more you thought about all the people you grew up alongside, the more you realized that you weren’t particularly interested in relationships with any of them. Whether you made new friends or not wasn’t a priority, in fact you kind of liked the idea of just being left alone.
You had to figure out what you actually enjoyed - outside of skating, you had no idea what really interested you, what you would like to do with your life and your free time. You figured it was time to do some self reflection and focus on finding things that you’d actually enjoy.
And, most importantly, you had to get back at your ex. Yeah, it was stupid to be motivated by a boy, but nothing would make you happier than seeing him worked up and frustrated. Your focus wasn’t on trying to win him back or anything like that - you wanted to piss him off, to exact some kind of revenge for making you look like an idiot when he broke up with you at a party that all your friends had attended.
How you were going to accomplish these, however, was yet to be determined. But they were a damn good starting point, and they got you motivated to become an absolute nuisance to everyone around.
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The Friday following the student council meeting, you decided to first experiment with a little something, satiate a mild curiosity. To anyone else, it was probably the most mundane thing in the world, but to a high schooler who thought graduation was life or death, doing anything out of the ordinary felt nail-biting.
You were going to sit at a new lunch table.
You had just two days left until your birthday, until you’d officially set your plan in motion, so you still had a little more time to come up with something. So far, you couldn’t think of shit. You were already someone who was blunt and commanding and mean, whose thoughts and feelings were always on your face, so people were used to you being bossy and a little miserable - you couldn’t start being meaner or blunter, you just knew that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe you could start skipping class, maybe you could start flaking on friends, but somehow none of that felt like enough, like it wouldn’t make a statement. You had to really make an impression, to really set yourself up for a total ruination of your social status, you just hadn’t figured out how.
But a new lunch table was as good a starting point as any, right?
You chose a table at the far end of the lunchroom; customarily your group of friends, acquaintances, and ex sat centrally, surrounded by the jocks on one side and the academics on the other. The new table you chose was only occupied by two other people, a dorky little couple who looked at you funny when you sat as far from them as possible. In turn, you gave them an icy cold glare, prompting them to look away quickly, like you were a Medusa who could turn them to stone.
Your stupid little lunchroom plan was a bust, though. Five minutes into your peaceful lunch, your two closest friends, Amelia and Janet found you, each looking perplexed and put-off by your seat of choice. They looked around before lowering into the seats around you, their expression full of something akin to disgust, as if sitting at a different table was that offensive.
“What are we doing over here?” Amelia asked judgmentally, eyeing the couple at the opposite end of the table. Across the lunchroom, a few people (including Duncan) from your usual lunch table looked at you funny, “It’s like we’re exiled or something.”
So dramatic, you thought while staring harshly at her.
“Change of scenery.” You answered plainly, stabbing at the food in front of you. Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, but still made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the decision.
“What, does this have something to do with Duncan?” She jabbed, receiving another nasty look from you, “So, he’s a jerk? Get over it.”
You should’ve known this idea was too simple to work. Of course they’d just follow you like the lemmings that they were, just as unable to make their own decisions as you were. Yeah, you definitely needed to try something bigger to scare them off.
Briefly, you thought that you could maybe tell them, just say point blank, “Amelia, Janet, I hate being around you and this friendship is done.” But, again, you figured that wouldn’t be good enough, that they’d laugh at your mean sense of humor even if you reiterated yourself. In this crowd, being mean was never enough to make your point, because all of you were nasty, not only to each other but to virtually everyone you met.
And despite your well-known attitude problem, you still cared about Amelia and Janet, flaws and all. These were the girls that you’d known since you were five years old, of course you worried about their feelings at least a little bit - nearly 13 years of friendship would do that to anyone. Guess you had more of a heart than you gave yourself credit for.
You definitely needed a foolproof plan to get out of this friendship, this social circle, this popular bubble that you’d always been trapped in. The friendship had to end without you saying so. You had to push them out until they finally gave up on you. Make it seem like it was their idea, that would definitely work on them.
As you schemed, Amelia and Janet chatted around you. Various acquaintances stopped by the table, all with the same question: what the hell were you guys doing sitting all the way out here? Even Duncan was amongst those that asked, trying to ignore the way you glared daggers at him. Amelia and Janet gave various responses, all of which put blame on you as if this simple little decision meant their utter ruination.
As Duncan was preparing to walk back to your usual lunch table, a commotion rose out in the hallway, the echo of rapid footfall drifting in through the doors. Multiple heads turned to face the cafeteria doors with curiosity, some people peeked out into the hall to check what the yelling was about, scurrying back to their friends to report what they’d seen. You, Amelia, Janet, and Duncan all waited silently, sharing raised brows and curious looks.
Not even a minute later, Eddie freaking Munson came crashing into the lunchroom, a look of total glee on his face as he cackled, not even remotely fazed by all the eyes on him. As he tumbled through the cafeteria doors, you jumped a little at the burst of sound. Eddie’s disruption turned everyone’s heads now, the lunchroom silent in shock and loathing as the resident outcast ran between tables, heading for the set of doors at the opposite end of the room. Your gaze was locked on the shit disturber as he blew past your table, carelessly running into Duncan in the process, but even that collision didn’t slow him down. Duncan yelled at him, but Eddie was focused on one goal, and if this were a cartoon you definitely would have seen dust kick up behind him from how quickly he was moving.
Not too far behind was Coach Miller, a look of absolute rage marring his puffy red face as he pursued Eddie. It didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire student body - his only focus was stopping the offender of whatever shenanigans currently pissed him off.
Your gaze turned back to the excited Eddie, an undeniable curiosity rising in you - what the hell did he do to piss off Coach Miller this bad? Sure, the coach was always pretty damn temperamental, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing him look quite this upset before.
Eddie paused at the cafeteria doors to turn and pull a mocking face at the coach before darting from the room, as if nothing in the world could touch him and he was unstoppable.
As Coach Miller disappeared after Eddie and students returned to their usual conversations, albeit with an air of awkwardness, you stared at the cafeteria doors thoughtfully.
That’s when an idea began to form.
You needed to take a page out of Eddie Munson’s book. If anyone in this school knew how to be a thorn in everyone’s side, it was him. So, you spent the remainder of your lunch brainstorming, trying to figure out how to channel even a sliver of Eddie’s energy; you only chimed into the conversation when someone spoke to you directly.
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In the middle of fifth period, you still weren’t quite sure what your game plan was, but you at least had a vague starting point. While your history teacher rambled on about some significant European war that you couldn’t begin to care about, you tapped your pencil as you thought about Eddie Munson (a sentence that very nearly grossed you out).
You’ve known about him since your freshman year - at the time, he was a year ahead of you, but since then he’d been held back. People always sneered when talking about him, as if Eddie was the most offensive thing they’d ever encountered, as if he was some kind of plague. He went against all social norms you’d learned up to that point, he was contradictory to everything you’d ever been taught about social conduct and likeability - he wore ratty clothes, listened to scary music, acted out in the most theatrical ways possible, and never seemed to give a shit what anyone thought.
You had never spoken to Eddie personally. Through the years you’d had a few classes together, including your math class this year, so you’ve witnessed some of his antics. But really, you knew nothing about the guy. Just the things that everyone else told you, and those things were nothing good. Whether or not Eddie was as bad as people said didn’t matter to you. His reputation was shit, and in this instance that’s exactly what you needed.
So, how were you going to ruin your senior year with the help of Eddie Munson? Well, at the very least, maybe you first had to have a conversation with him. It would be pretty stupid to walk up to him and go “hey, Munson, I know everyone here hates you, how about we chat and you make them hate me, too!”
Maybe you needed to find a way to hang out with him? Pretend to be friends long enough that the rest of the student body begins to ostracize you? With a little amused huff, an even worse thought crossed you: maybe you needed to pretend you were interested in Eddie Munson for a while, that was sure to piss just about everyone off. Especially Duncan.
But then the idea gave you pause.
You could not pretend to flirt with, or even date, Eddie fucking Munson. No chance in hell that would work. No way he would go for it, and no way you’d be able to tolerate him long enough to convince anyone that you were even remotely into him.
But… maybe?
Shit, what a stupid idea.
Or maybe it was a brilliant one.
You mulled it over a few minutes longer - if you were going to, somehow, convince Eddie Munson to pretend to date you, you needed to offer him something in exchange, that was obvious. You needed to give him a good reason to help you out, or this plan was never going to work. Its chances of success already seemed slim to none.
You had one idea, though you weren’t entirely certain if he’d go for it.
Your Uncle Tom was a cop, had been with the force your entire life - and you’d bet he’s probably had at least one run-in with Eddie. Maybe you’d tell Eddie that you could get cops to leave him alone, to stop watching him wearily whenever they were around. You couldn’t promise him too much, of course, but you knew at the very least that you could get your uncle to leave him alone. Or you could even take the fall here and there for whatever trouble Eddie inevitably lands himself in - what cop was stupid enough to arrest the niece of a cop and the daughter of a man who owned half of Hawkins?
It wasn’t foolproof, and you knew there were flaws to be found, but it just might work.
So, with your mind made up, you rip a scrap of paper from your notebook and scribble out a quick message:
Let’s make a deal. Sunday. You pick the time and place. Locker #436
You’d hoped that Eddie would be smart enough to realize that you wanted him to write you back, to drop his own stupid note in your locker so you could meet up and tell him your stupid, crazy idea. God, this better work.
You swiftly raise your hand in the air, giving a small impatient wave when your teacher didn’t acknowledge you right away, instead trying to focus on his lecture.
He rolled his eyes when he spotted your hand in the air, pointing at you and saying in an annoyed monotone, “What’s so important that you’re interrupting?”
Without any hesitation, you state bluntly, “Lady troubles.”
The teacher looks shocked by how plainly you stated it. But because it was you that said it and not someone else, your peers didn’t dare laugh, although a couple boys seemed to choke in surprise or amusement.
“Go, go…” Your teacher waved you off before continuing his lecture, wanting to forget the small interaction entirely.
You exited the room and roamed the halls confidently. Eddie’s locker wasn’t hard to miss - he was one of the students that decorated the metal with crude permanent marker sketches, and the school was too cheap to care about replacing or painting over it. As you approached Eddie’s locker, you checked around to make sure no one spotted you; it wasn’t as if you were committing a crime, but you didn’t need anyone wondering what you were up to in case this plan didn’t work.
So, you slipped the note into his locker, returned to class, and waited impatiently for the final bell of the day to ring, hoping that Eddie would actually stop by his locker and not just leave school without ever seeing your note.
When the end of the day came, it took everything in your power not to rush back to your own locker - just in case, you didn’t want him spotting you there. Why all the secrecy, you sure as hell didn’t know, but you nonetheless continued it.
So, you waited, stopping into the bathroom to check your makeup, walking with Amelia and Janet as they stopped at their own lockers. As the three of you exited the building and walked into the parking lot, you pretended to remember something, telling them that you needed to run back inside. You said your quick goodbyes and went back to wandering the halls, finally opening up your own locker.
It was stupid that your heart leapt when you saw a crudely torn piece of paper resting on top of some of your belongings.
You opened it quickly, eagerly reading the metalhead’s response:
Picnic table behind the football field, 4.
God, what were you getting yourself into.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#stranger things#em#dos and donts
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lovesick (XIII)
— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader
— word count: 6k
— warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering.
— summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.
Previous - Next
You flip to another page in Jungkook's textbook. You absentmindedly worry your bottom lip between your teeth, concentration high, as you look for any information that might be helpful for his assignment.
Despite the pleading look he gave you when he asked for your assistance, you know that he would be able to handle the paper perfectly fine on his own. It feels like another lifetime ago now, but you do remember how quickly he finished up the shared assignment you had in Ms. Eun's class. Jungkook had practically written the whole thing in just a matter of days.
But, even though you know you're not needed, it's still nice to feel included; like you're doing something that matters instead of just wasting away in the cabin. As long as you ignore the crackling fireplace next to you, you can almost imagine that you're back on campus, working with Jungkook in the library like you did back then. You can't even begin to describe how much you miss doing things that aren't just playing house.
The thought makes a burst of irritation flash through you as you turn to another page, causing you to bite down too hard on the soft flesh of your lip.
Jungkook yelps on the other side of the table as he feels the sting, instinctively touching his mouth in an attempt to soothe the pain.
"Y/n, are you okay?" He gives you a worried look.
You release your lip with a soft pop, chuckling awkwardly to hide your souring mood as you say, "Sorry, I think I was concentrating too hard."
Jungkook furrows his brow with a low hum, eyes lingering on your mouth. You feel like you can see the thought that forms on his face, his eyes lighting up as he gets an idea.
"Ah!" He makes a small noise, quickly clambering to his feet, "I think I know something that can help. I'll be right back!"
"Sure," You nod. You plop your head back to rest on the couch behind you, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook hurries to the kitchen.
You let out a soft sigh when he's out of sight, the sounds of him opening and closing different cupboards fading into the background as you stare up at the ceiling. The past week has been weird. You don't want to call it unexpected based on what caused it, but the last seven days have been surprisingly nice at the cabin. The boys have started giving your tight leash some slack, allowing you to stay in a room alone if they need to leave it to grab something. It's not for more than a few minutes at the time but with how they've been constantly watching you for a month, it's been a more than welcome change. They've given you a sliver of trust and you're finding yourself desperate to hold on to it.
You know what the reason behind it is, of course, you'd be a fool not to.
The shift was notable in the air that morning you awkwardly shuffled out of Jimin's room, the back of your neck sore from the hickeys he had proudly decorated your skin with. You felt awfully exposed by the six pairs of eyes that scanned you from top to bottom, burning with jealousy as Jimin came up behind you to plant a wet kiss over one of his marks. Namjoon's eye had twitched as he pulled back, Jimin no doubt sporting a smug smile behind your back.
It had only taken a second before Hoseok had stormed over to wrap you up in a hug, pulling you away from Jimin and over to the rest in the common room. They felt like territorial puppies with the way all of them made sure they got to touch you and hug you as if they were leaving their own marks behind too. As you were passed between arms you kept catching them looking at your neck, their eyes longing. It was only when all the attention started getting a little overwhelming that you ran away to the bathroom, escaping under the guise of needing a shower.
You hadn't had much time to think about what happened with Jimin until you came face to face with yourself in the mirror, the evidence of the night before staring right back at you. Leaning on the sink, you studied how your skin proudly displayed the marks left behind by Jimin's lips, how your eyes held a shine that you hadn't seen in a long while. Your soul and by extension, your body, was glowing in the aftermath of your intimacy with Jimin.
Guilt climbed its way up your throat so fast it made you gag. You knew that spending the night with Jimin – letting him touch you like that – was terrible, that you were letting yourself down by giving in, but even then you couldn't find it in yourself to hate what had happened. You didn't feel disgusted and that in itself made you feel even more ashamed. How could you not feel bad about letting your stalker, one of your kidnappers, get you off like that? How could you like it? You could blame the bond all you wanted but perhaps it was time to face the fact that you were just weak; easily broken by the connection you had always craved.
You rub your forehead with a sigh.
Jungkook is humming a low tune in the kitchen, the sound of crinkling plastic accompanying it as he pours something into a bowl.
You can mull the situation over all you want but you doubt you'll ever get a definitive answer. What you do know is that there is no use denying that your night with Jimin didn't change anything – for them and you. Despite your best efforts, you are starting to grow fond of them and as much as it pains you to admit, you doubt that it'll be the only time you let any of them touch you. Jimin's touch felt right, good, and you're tired of feeling lonely and isolated.
You think the others have noticed your wavering will, their affections increasing in turn. They have slowly been testing your boundaries, stretching them thinner and thinner day by day. You've come to expect the hands that slip under your shirt when someone leans in for a hug, warm fingertips caressing your waist and back as they hold you close. They let their touches linger longer too, gauging how long you'll allow it before you start to grow uncomfortable. Hoseok and Seokjin have taken a particular shine to resting their hand possessively on your thigh whenever they're seated beside you, the placement inching a little higher every time. Even so, there's still some resemblance of respect in their actions, in how they always stop whenever you show signs of discomfort. It's obvious they're impatient to share the same kind of intimacy with you as Jimin did, but they seem to understand that letting you come to them on your own terms is the best option.
You lift your head as Jungkook returns from the kitchen, straightening yourself up as he rounds the table to plop down next to you on the ground.
"Here!" He exclaims as he places a bowl in front of you, filled with a colourful variety of your favourite kind of candy. "I brought the chewy gummies you like! If you chew on those then you won't hurt your lip if you get distracted again."
The unexpectedly sweet gesture sends a rush of warmth through your body, your cheeks heating under Jungkook's adoring gaze. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. A small furrow appears between his brows, his lips pouting slightly as he says, "I saw you spacing out, are you okay?"
"I know you're upset about missing out on so many assignments but you don't have to be! Namjoon hyung has already applied for you to postpone your studies so you won't lose your spot. I'll help you catch up whenever it's time for you to go back, I promise."
You blink, taken aback that Namjoon had the forethought to do so. You figured you must've already been thrown out of your program by now, having missed out on too many important midterms in just your first month here. The fact that they cared enough about the after to do this for you, does give you a glimmer of hope that you will get out of this cabin at some point, that you will be able to rejoin society in some capacity once they deem you ready – broken – enough.
Jungkook has such an earnest expression on his face, like he genuinely believes they've done you a favour as he says, "Hoseok hyung even quit your job for you! You don't have to worry about anything, Y/n, we have it all under control."
They have it under control. The reality of the situation feels like a smack to the face. While their intentions may have been pure, at least in some aspects, the truth is that the boys have been slowly cutting off all and any ties you have to your old life. The implication is obvious; when you're allowed to go back, it won't be to anything you know.
"What about my apartment?" You ask.
What about my things? My life?
"We're keeping it for now. It would seem weird if we break the lease early when your friend–" Jungkook cuts himself off with a strangled cough, "I mean, the lease is up in a few months anyway! So Jimin hyung said it's better to just grab the rest of your stuff then."
Your stomach sinks at the off-handed mention of Heejun and Jaemin. They haven't been brought up at all since that night but you can tell it's only a matter of time before you'll have to reach out to them. The frown on Jimin's face seems to grow deeper with every return from his shift. It's obvious your friends have no intention of backing down and that Jimin is reaching the last of his rope trying to fend them off.
You still have no idea how you're going to successfully get Heejun to back off. You know your friends, you know they'll see right through you if you try to convince them that everything is fine, so how in the world are you going to accomplish this? It's not like you can ask any of the boys for help, either. You're in this alone and only you can keep them out of harm's way.
You startle slightly as Jungkook squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your ruminating thoughts.
"Do you know why I'm so close to Dasom noona?"
It takes you a second to realize that Jungkook has jumped to another topic – that he's talking about Ms. Eun. He's not subtle in his attempt to distract you from your troubled mind, but a small part of you appreciates it all the same. You've been thinking about Heejun and Jaemin so much that you feel like you've started to go backward, like the solution is slipping further away with every new idea that strikes you.
"No," You shake your head.
"You know I'm not close with my parents, that they didn't treat me well," Jungkook adverts his gaze down to your joined hands, "They have a lot of money, so my aunt and uncle always bent themselves backward trying to cater to their whims. They were desperate for something extra to fill their pockets with so they didn't care that their joy came from my suffering. I wasn't the son my parents wanted, I c-couldn't be. I wasn't perfect, so in their eyes, I wasn't worth the trouble. My parents' obvious distaste for me painted a target on my back and my family is known for being ruthless when there's something they want."
Jungkook lets out a bitter snort, jaw tense as he soothes his thumb across your knuckles. "The only one that made family gatherings bearable was my oldest cousin – he was too grown to be swayed by my parents. He was the only one that ever cared, the only one that never mocked me for my s-stutter."
The pain in Jungkook's voice is almost tangible. You can't imagine having your entire family turn against you just because of a small speech disorder; just because you're not cookie-cutter perfect. From the small glimpses Jungkook has shared from his past and tidbits of information you've overheard over the past months, you think it's safe to assume that Jungkook is part of the Jeon family – the ones that run the city, pulling strings behind the curtains without ever showing themselves on stage. They're the definition of old money, seemingly satisfied to have complete control over a decently sized city instead of fighting for power in the major ones. You don't doubt they would be willing to cut Jungkook loose if they notice his strings fraying, desperate to uphold their perfect image. It's clear the trauma of it all runs deep for Jungkook, his stutter always becomes more prominent whenever he brings up his past.
"Oh, Jungkook," You murmur, heart squeezing at how such a sweet person could be so horribly mistreated by his own family. It makes sense that Jungkook would latch on to the other boys so firmly, idolize them, if they're one of the few who have given him the love and comfort he never got at home.
Jungkook shifts a little closer at the sound of your voice, subconsciously seeking comfort as he picks at old wounds.
"When my parents finally cut me off and left me to fend for myself, I lived on my cousin's couch for a few months before Seokjin hyung hired me. My cousin had been dating Dasom noona for a little over a year already then, so we had briefly met a few times. I felt terrible for always being in their business but noona said she was always thrilled to see me – that I was like the younger brother she never had," Jungkook smiles softly.
"I moved out as quickly as I could to give them privacy but I never lost touch with them. They're part of the reason I'm able to attend university; they're covering half of my tuition. My cousin held a big speech about how he's investing in the future or something like that, he refused to take no for an answer," He lets out a fond snort, shaking his head. "I really care about them a lot. Hyung and noona are planning on getting married next year, but I hope she keeps her own name. She's too good to be a Jeon."
"They sound like they're pretty great," You murmur.
"They are," Jungkook agrees. His face suddenly brightens up as he seems to recall a particular memory, "I ran into my mom once, after everything that happened. I was out with hyung and noona, and Dasom noona was amazing at telling her all these half-truths that made it seem like I was thriving without my parents. She insulted my mother to her face over and over in the sweetest way possible and I doubt my mom realized what had even happened until she was already on her way home."
"Good," You allow your lips to quirk, "I'm glad she stood up for you."
"Yeah," Jungkook glances up at you, his big doe eyes staring you down for a second before he swallows thickly. His cheeks flush as he quietly admits, "Dasom noona was the first person I told about you. I know I shouldn't have but I didn't know how to approach you, so noona offered to help. She came up with the idea to pair us together for our project when I realized we were taking the same class."
"Please don't think too badly of her, she only wanted to help!" He hurries to add, gripping your hand tightly.
You know Ms. Eun – Dasom – to be impressive just from the many awards and accomplishments she has rightfully displayed around her office. But, listening to Jungkook sing her praises like this, it makes you realize that it takes someone very special to practically adopt your boyfriend's cousin as your own brother and love him as such. It's no wonder they seem so close, why Ms. Eun was so protective of him. Jungkook has a kind heart, she said. Even with his stalker tendencies, you know that to be true.
"Hyung and noona don't know about our.. uhm, c-circumstances, just that we're spending time together to work on our bond. The wedding will be happening in the spring and noona really wants us to come, if you want to. She's very excited to see you again!"
Spring. It's not that far away. Maybe four, five months? You have no idea what the boys have planned for you, but Ms. Eun's wedding might be one of your only chances at seeing people again. If you play your cards right, you might even be able to slip away. Escape.
You try to tamper down the rush of emotion that courses through you, the adrenaline urging you to go go go. Five months is a long time, long enough for you to break, to lose yourself entirely if you're not careful – but also enough to win their full trust.
"I would love to, Jungkookie," You grin, elated that you finally have something to look forward to. A small light at the end of this endless, dark tunnel.
A brilliant smile blooms on Jungkook's face at the use of his nickname, his eyes sparkling like tiny stars. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. It's comfortable, comforting even, to feel his muscular arms holding you steady, your chin hooked over his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you melt into Jungkook's embrace, hugging him back.
"Thank you, Y/n, that's going to make Dasom noona really happy," Jungkook murmurs. He tucks his face against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply before he sighs and says, "And it makes me very happy too."
You make a non-committal sound in return, stroking his back. It's not the wedding you're excited about but there is no way you're going to tell Jungkook that. You know how devastated he'll be once you run away, so you can spare him the hurt for now.
Jungkook isn't innocent in all of this but he isn't the mastermind behind everything either. His betrayal still stings and you think it always will, but the months you've spent here have slowly been mellowing it out, making it more bearable. Enough that you almost find yourself willing to forget about it.
"Can I ask you something?" Jungkook's voice is soft against your skin.
"Yeah," You say.
"That night with Jimin hyung, did you... did you kiss him? It's okay if you did! I'm just– curious."
The unexpected question gives you a slight pause. You figured Jimin would've told the others everything by now but it appears he hasn't. You're honestly surprised that vague is even a word in Jimin's dictionary.
"No, we didn't kiss."
"That's good. I mean–!" Jungkook pulls back, expression panicked as his gaze flits across your face. "Sorry, that's not what I meant. You're allowed to kiss Jimin hyung or any of the other hyungs if you want, it-it's not my business. Well, it is? But also not!"
"It's okay, Jungkook. What are you trying to say?" You ask, half-amused.
Jungkook shyly ducks his head, palms warm against your middle as he says, "Sorry. What I want to say is; Can I be the first to kiss you? Please? I-I'd really like that."
"Yeah," You breathe, the answer coming a little too easy, a little too quickly, "You can kiss me."
You can perhaps fool yourself into thinking it's all just a means to an end, but the way your heart skips a beat as Jungkook brings a hand up to cup your face, fingers shaking, doesn't lie. You want to kiss him. Perhaps it's your soulbond, perhaps it's just Jungkook, but a part of you likes him. Enough to make your heart flutter whenever he's near.
Jungkook always looks at you so reverently – like you're something precious. Something to be cherished.
You can't help it. You're only human, after all, seeking love and comfort where it's easily available to you.
He wets his lips, nervous, as he slowly begins to lean in. His brown eyes are glued to your mouth, wide and wondrous as if he can't believe that he's allowed to kiss you.
Your eyelids flutter shut as Jungkook thumbs across your cheek, tilting your head just so before he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, warm, and Jungkook's mouth tastes faintly of something sweet. He moves his mouth cautiously against yours, testing the waters for what you'll permit.
There are no sparks that fly when your lips meet, no fireworks that ignite behind your closed eyes – but a steady warmth that slowly engulfs you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It feels like part of you is coming home, like an important piece is slotting into place. Your head feels light and airy, heart thumping in your chest as if it's trying to reach out for Jungkook.
You clutch the back of his shirt, leaning into the kiss to deepen it. Jungkook lets out a soft whimper when you part your mouth, your tongue teasing at his bottom lip until he lets you in. You're not sure if it's Jungkook's breaths or yours that are shaky when you slip inside, your tongue brushing just the faintest touch against his.
"Y/n," Jungkook suddenly pulls back with a gasp.
You open your eyes to find Jungkook's screwed shut as if he's in pain, cheeks flushed as he quickly retreats his hands into his lap.
"Are you okay?" You hesitate to reach out to touch him again, having yanked them away at the sound of his gasp. You tentatively settle a hand on Jungkook's knee, seeing his nose scrunch as he lets out a labored breath.
"I'm fine," Jungkook awkwardly shifts away from your touch, his hands moving just enough to expose the bulge straining against his jeans.
"Oh," You clear your throat, heat rushing up the back of your neck. You barely kissed and Jungkook is this affected by it?
"Have you not?–"
"No. I've been with people before, it's j-just–" Jungkook shakes his head, biting his lip in embarrassment at having to clarify that he's not a blushing virgin, it's just that, "It's not the same. Everything feels more when it's with you."
"Jungkook," You breathe, a little stricken at the confession. It's hard for you to fathom that your kiss was that special. You don't feel the bond in the same way as they do, your feelings dulled by six other souls pulling you in their direction. For the first time since all of this started, you almost feel bad for them. You can almost understand their desperation in wanting to share something with you, even if they know you'll never fully feel the same way as they do.
"Please, um– Just excuse me for a minute? I-I need to go deal with this," Jungkook seems too lost in his embarrassment to have picked up on your mood shift. His eyes stay glued to the floor as he jumps up, hands awkwardly covering his crotch as he hurries to the bathroom.
You slump back down against the couch, dragging a hand over your face. You slow as you reach your mouth, lips tingling as you press on the soft flesh. You shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have let Jimin touch you either. But it's too late to change any of it. And the matter of the fact is that you wanted it – them. It's exhausting having to war with yourself over every single decision you make, especially when you know that your control over them is very limited. You're only trying to make the best out of your situation, to keep everyone you love safe. Perhaps losing yourself in the process isn't the worst sacrifice.
You reach out for the gummies Jungkook left with a shake of your head, unwrapping one and popping it into your mouth. A sour-y-sweet filling is released as you bite into it, coating your tongue as you mindlessly chew on the candy. You swear you have tasted that slight strawberry flavour somewhere else, somewhere more recently. It's not until the gummy is gone and you swipe your tongue over your lips to catch the last of the sticky filling that it hits you.
Of course.
You throw your head back with a groan, muttering a curse under your breath.
It tastes like Jungkook.
The air in the common room feels suffocating. It's only a few days after your talk, and kiss, with Jungkook that you find yourself here; sitting on the couch in the middle of Seokjin and Taehyung, the rest spread out in a janky circle around the coffee table. Your gaze finds Jimin's as he steps forward, his expression carefully blank as he places your phone down in front of you. Your fingers twitch in your lap, itching to grasp onto the freedom that is now so close, yet so far away.
Seokjin seems to mistake the motion for nerves as he gently takes one of your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "It's going to be okay," He murmurs, mindful of the tense atmosphere.
They're all here to oversee your call to Heejun, to make sure you don't attempt to drop any hints of what's really going on. It's obvious that they don't like Jimin's idea, that they're scared of something going wrong, but it's the best option you have. Heejun will never stop looking for you unless you give him a reason to do so. This is easier for all of you and less messy. The boys will finally get rid of the one person that's trying to ruin their plans and you won't have to live with your friend's murder on your conscience. It's a fucked up, terrible, win-win.
"Whenever you're ready," Namjoon nods.
You reach out for your phone with a trembling hand, picking it up. It feels almost foreign to hold a phone after so long, your fingers clumsy as you type in your password. You balance it on your knee, your other hand still occupied by Seokjin. His grip is tight, tense, like he's hoping it'll prevent you from doing something stupid.
You brush your finger across the screen, aiming for the phone but the slight shake to it makes you accidentally touch your texts instead. Your stomach drops as you quickly scan down the list of unanswered messages; Heejun and Jaemin have sent you the most, but your friends at work are a close second. You can see that the last text in the group chat with your parents is from you – the message only a few days old. You're certain Namjoon is the one behind it.
You swallow thickly, heart aching, as you swipe out of the app. You miss your parents and your friends something terribly, but all of this is for them. You're the only one that can keep them safe.
You quickly switch over to your calls, thumb hovering over Heejun's name and the hundreds of missed calls next to it. Jaemin has placed nearly as many, as if Heejun figured you might pick up his boyfriend's calls instead of his. It's such a Heejun thing to do that it makes your chest tighten.
"Go on, angel," Seokjin says, squeezing your hand.
You suck in a deep breath as you tap his contact, quickly putting the call on speakerphone. Part of you hopes he won't pick up, that perhaps it'll spare your heart some pain if you don't hear his, but the much bigger part of you prays that he will. You need to hear that he's okay.
As the loud rings echo in the quiet cabin, your hands begin to clam up, your heart thumping harshly against your chest. It rings once, twice–
Heejun picks up, sounding breathless as he says, "Y/n?"
The sound of his voice wraps you in a chokehold. The glass walls you've built around yourself in an attempt to pretend that everything is fine come tumbling down in an instant, shattering into the silence.
"It's me," You rasp.
"Y/n, gods! What happened? Are you okay? Where are you, we've been worried sick that–" Heejun rambles quickly and the poor service you have out here in the woods struggles to pick up on all of his questions.
You glance up as you notice Jimin shifting on his feet, his previously blank expression growing more and more annoyed with every question Heejun fires off. Not good.
"Heejun," You cut him off, barely more than a whisper, but your best friend goes quiet immediately, "I'm okay."
You hear Heejun let out a rough sigh. He sounds pained as he says, "I don't believe you."
Taehyung's hands curl into fists, vexed that Heejun isn't accepting your story as easily as they had hoped for.
"Trust me," You plead, eyes flickering between Jimin and Taehyung's evident annoyance.
Please trust me, please, please, please.
"How?" Heejun huffs, "You've been gone for months – months! – without a word! The last thing you told me was that your stalker was after you and then you're suddenly gone! Disappeared off the face of the earth. Y/n, please, what's going on?"
"I–" You falter, the explanation you had come up with only hours before stuck in the back of your throat. You don't want to lie. You want Heejun to know – to know that you're not okay, that you don't want to be here, but you can't. You can't and you think lying might tear your heart apart.
There's an ominous silence on the other side of the phone, the line so quiet you're worried he might have ended the call. Heejun's voice is hard, seething, as he finally asks, "Is he there?"
Jungkook straightens up in his chair, doe eyes wide with panic. Seokjin's grip on your hand grows so tight you think he might be cutting your circulation off, the tips of your fingers taking on an ashy tint. Yoongi and Namjoon look like they're two seconds away from jumping over the table to take your phone back, their bodies taut with tension as they stare you down.
"No," You rush out, clutching your phone as hard as you can. "Heejun, I–I chose to run away." The lie feels like it's flaying your throat open as you force it out.
"Y/n, please–"
"Listen to me," You say, the desperation in your voice catching Heejun's attention, "I ran away because I didn't want you or Jaemin or anyone else to get hurt. This was the best thing I could do. It was the only thing I could do."
You screw your eyes shut, swallowing hard. You know this is the only thing Heejun will believe. There's no way in hell he would ever accept you just growing bored of him or losing interest in your friendship – the only thing that would ever convince him is self-sacrifice. Gods knows you've both done your fair share of that over the years.
Heejun pauses. "But why take so long to reach out to me?"
"I couldn't. Things had to settle down first. I'm so sorry, I wanted to, but–" You cut yourself off, "I'm sorry."
"I don't care about all of that, I just care about you, Y/n. Are you safe?"
Are you?
The cabin is so silent you could hear a pin drop. You seek comfort in the darkness behind your closed lids, biting down on the inside of your cheek so hard you know that it hurts the others. The truth is this; the situation you're in is not safe, but you also know that the boys would never intentionally hurt you. Your bond is too strong to ever allow that to happen. In some ways you are safe, in others, you are not.
You can settle for a half-truth then, just like those Ms. Eun is so good at inventing.
You open your eyes slowly, skin crawling as you stare down at the floor and say, "Yes. I'm safe right now."
".. Okay," Heejun murmurs. You can't quite tell if he believes you or not.
The boys let out a collective sigh of relief, some of the tension draining out of their bodies. You notice Jimin giving you a sign to hurry up out of the corner of your eye, your pulse kicking up speed as you realize your time with Heejun has come to an end.
"I have to go," You choke.
Heejun tries to protest, but you cut him off. The longer the conversation goes on, the higher the risk of him figuring out that something is wrong.
"I'm sorry. I'll call you again later, okay? I promise. Just.. take good care of yourself and Jaemin. I'll come find you when it's time. I miss you," Your voice wavers as your vision grows cloudy, tears blurring your sight.
You don't want to let him go, you don't want this to be the last time you ever hear his voice. You miss him and you're scared. Scared that things will never go back to what they were.
"Miss you too. Please be safe, Y/n. Protect yourself, not us, okay?" Heejun sounds defeated, as sad and broken, as you feel.
I can't promise you that.
"Bye, Heejun," You whisper instead, a half-sob. You hear your own name being murmured back at you as you touch the red button to end the call, the line going dead.
"Was it enough?" You sound feeble even to your own ears.
"I think so. We'll find out soon. As long as your friends don't show up at the station anymore, we should be fine," Jimin says. His mouth is downturned, upset, like he doesn't like seeing you cry.
You can only nod in return, not trusting your voice.
Hoseok steps closer, gently taking the phone out of your trembling hand. He hands it off to Namjoon before he settles his fingers on the top of your head, stroking your hair. He hushes you as the first tear escapes you, voice tender and proud as he says, "You did well, sunshine."
You feel sick. You want to scream and claw at the hands touching you, you want to pull your own treacherous heart from your chest and stomp on it until it stops beating for them and it's yours again. The emotions bubbling up under your skin feel like burning hellfire, scorching your insides. You hate this. You don't want this and yet–
The fire quells as more hands reach out to touch you, to comfort you.
Taehyung pulls you into his lap, rocking you gently as you begin to sob. You should be running away, but instead, you find yourself curling closer to his chest, seeking his warmth. He presses fluttering kisses to your hair, murmuring about how good you are, how perfect, how well they're going to take care of you.
And for the first time since you woke up trapped in the cabin, you actually want to believe him.
Anything to make your reality hurt a little less.
a/n: happy new year!! lovesick is finally back after a few intense months of exams and other happenings. this chapter shed some more light on jungkook's backstory and he even got the first kiss from the mc! the conversation with heejun was the final nail in the coffin so to speak for the mc, so we'll see her being more open to accepting the boys' affection from here on out. the poor girl is starting to get worn down :( the next chapter will be more taegi-focused and the mc will finally learn more about their soulbond!
please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖
(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)
#yandere bts#bts x reader#yandere x reader#yandere jungkook#yandere jimin#yandere hoseok#yandere taehyung#yandere seokjin#yandere yoongi#yandere namjoon
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All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)
Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader
Rating: 18+ Only
Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo
Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff
Word Count: 4.1k
A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖
You can catch up here!
My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi
Y/N’S POV
The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.
“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.
“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.
“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.
“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.
“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”
“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”
“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.
“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.
“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.
“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.
You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.
“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea.
“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.
“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.
“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.
“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”
“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.
“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”
It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.
“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.
“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.
“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.
“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.
Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.
“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”
“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.
“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”
“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”
“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.
“I do,” Sam responds.
“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”
“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.
“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”
“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.
“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.
You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.
He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.
“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.
“Where is he?”
Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.
You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.
Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.
“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.
Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.
“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.
“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.
“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.
Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.
“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.
Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.
“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”
Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.
“No!” he growls. “Mine.”
Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.
He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.
You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.
“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties.
“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”
Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.
“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.
Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.
As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.
“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.
You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.
Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.
As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.
It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.
It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha.
“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”
His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.
It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.
You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.
“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.
“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.
Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.
When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.
A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.
The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.
The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.
“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.
“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”
You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.
Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut.
As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.
Cry.
DEAN’S POV
Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.
He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.
“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.
Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.
“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food.
When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.
Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.
Y/N’S POV
After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.
“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.
He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.
When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.
Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.
Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.
“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.
“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.
“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”
“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”
“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”
The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.
“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”
The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.
“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”
You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.
“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”
“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”
“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”
THE END
Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567
#j3bingo#omegaverse#a/b/o universe#alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x reader#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o
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Bound By Fate
Jenson Button x Fem!Teammate Reader
series summery: the strings of life connect two people; teammates, friends, perhaps lovers. Even when you think you’ve gotten rid of him, the strings of life pull you back in. some things are just meant to be.
author's note: this was prompted by god knows what but this is my new passion project. jenson girlies, this one is for you. shoutout to @mev33 for losing her mind over this with me <333
bound by fate taglist!
chapter one: united front
attached at the hip, jenson button and y/n l/n are the unstoppable duo. the same soul in two bodies. all but 4 points separating them. // “where you go, I go. What you see, I see. I know I’d never be me without the security of your loving arms, keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we’ll stand.” - Skyfall by Adele
chapter two: time cast a spell on you
spending nine months with someone is a long time, especially when you’re forced to be with them. feelings grow, both good and bad. - “Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me. I know I could have I loved you but you would not let me. I’ll follow you down ‘till the sound of my voice can haunt you. Oh give it just a chance. You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you.” - Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac
chapter three: the blame is on you
two mclarens spin out, drivers at each other’s throat but only one’s to blame. what’s said on track doesn’t always stay there. - “It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.” - Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tear For Fear
chapter four: no grace
jenson can’t take it anymore; the back stabbing, the betrayal. he did what he thought was best and left. on what was supposed to be the happiest night of y/n’s life, she’s heartbroken and upset. — “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. You had to kill me, but it kills you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossing out the good years and you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed.” - My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift
chapter five: the final tango
y/n and jenson find themselves front and centre, smiling for the cameras in their sunday bests, yet their hearts are in different places. - “it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. I’ve done the math, there’s no solution. We’ll never last. Why can’t I let go of this?” - Promise by Laufey
chapter six: secrets of us
when all is said and done, it’s never really over, is it? jenson spills far too much in a tell-all interview that back fires on both he and y/n. - “And you don’t seem to understand, a shame you seemed an honest man. And the fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say might hurt you and you know that it means so much, and you don’t even feel a thing.” - Duvet by Bôa
chapter seven: a chapter of me
four long years have passed, both y/n and jenson are in different places of life but they find themselves at Silverstone, together once again. jenson’s a commentator and y/n’s still a racer. seems the dust has settled. - “Just wanna let this story die, and i’ll be alright. We can’t be friends, but I’d like to just pretend. You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again.” - We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande
chapter eight: a glimpse into the past
people come and go, life moves on; that has always been your view. you can’t move on when your past comes back to haunt you. - “So I ask myself, do I let you go or do I keep you in the frame of my mind? Now I’m growing wise to your sugar coated lies, nothing’s sweet about my misery. Yeah, I finally found what went wrong, i finally found the wrong in you.” - On My Mind by Jorja Smith
chapter nine: twelve steps forward, one step back
the final race of your life, mixed emotions truly. your career was one out of a movie, you’re waiting for the final shoe to drop and when it does, it hits you hard. - “Isn’t it strange? I am still me, you are still you, in the same place. Isn’t it strange how people can change from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?” - Strange by Celeste
epilogue - chapter ten: the last bow
life post retirement is a funny thing, you thought you’d be having fun but you’re bored out of your mind. a solo trip results in seeing a ghost from your past. - “I'm sure we're taller in other dimension, you say we’re small and not worth a mention. You’re tired of movin’, your body’s achin’. We could vacay, there’s places to go. Clearly this isn’t all that there is, can’t take what’s been given. But we’re so okay here, we’re doing fine.” - White Ferrari by Frank Ocean
#bound by fate series#jenson button#jenson button x reader#jenson button x you#jenson button x y/n#jenson button f1#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 series
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Nother Idea: Steve has a really bad migraine when he sees his parents for the first time post spring break from hell. He is still recovering from his injuries & his parsnts don't know how to help him. He is in tears begging his father or mother to get him Rob or Eds. And they have no clue who that is. The other parent finds a note by the main house phone and one by his bedroom phone with the names Robin & Eddie with their numbers. And they watch their adult son get coddled by a lesbian and a metalhead. Bsjsjcjdjd maybe they find out about the UD???
I TOOK A BREAK FROM PLANNING OUR WEDDING FOR THIS MY LOVE!!! You know how I feel about migraine Steve and you know how I feel about some good old hurt/comfort and how I feel about Steve's parents just being shitty always. It's like you wrote this request from MY BRAIN. It's a bit shorter than I could've done, but I am rushing out the door at this point and wanted to have it posted today in case I can't tonight. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️
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Luck was never on Steve’s side.
He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, his brain and body constantly running through checklists of things he had to do and people he needed to check on.
It was catching up with him in the form of the worst migraine he’s had in months.
And now his parents were home.
He could hear them talking downstairs, their voices carrying and making Steve wince against his pillow.
He managed to close his curtains when he got up to use the bathroom this morning, but hadn’t managed to do anything else. Including close his door.
He hadn’t really expected that to be an issue since he was alone all the time.
His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months. They hadn’t even bothered to call when the “earthquake” hit.
He kept his eyes closed in hopes that they wouldn’t bother him, maybe they’d even close his door for him if they thought he was asleep.
Wishful thinking.
His dad’s booming voice was suddenly right next to him, echoing around his room and his head.
“It’s the middle of the damn day, Anne! He can’t sleep his life away!”
Steve let out a groan, burying his head as far into his pillows as he could to avoid some of the noise.
His father would give up eventually, probably call him something terrible, be disappointed, the usual. But he’d leave, and Steve could bask in the peace and quiet again.
“Do you hear me, Steven? Anne, he’s ignoring me!”
Steve groaned again as he heard his mother’s voice from the doorway.
“Richard, he’s clearly hungover. We should come back later.”
Steve loved that idea. If they left, he could try to sleep this migraine off.
“I’m not just leaving him! He has to act like a responsible adult someday, Anne. We don’t pay for this house for him to spend his days hungover in it.”
“Not hungover.”
Steve’s voice was muffled against the pillow, his head pounding with every movement of his lips, but he knew he had to at least try to stick up for himself.
“So you’re just a useless sack in the middle of the day on a Thursday for no reason, then?”
Steve let out a whine at the sharp pains shooting through his head.
“Eddie. Call?”
Words were hard when your head was trying to implode on itself.
“Who is Eddie? Is that the person who got you drunk? I will not be calling this Eddie person, and I expect you to be up, showered, and dressed by the time we are back from our business dinner. Do you understand?”
“Robin.”
“Isn’t that your girlfriend? Is she responsible for this?”
Steve wanted to scream that the people responsible for this were dead or Russian spies who were hopefully dead and no thanks to either of his parents, he often spent days like this.
Not as often since he practically had Robin and Eddie living with him, but enough.
“No. Eddie.”
“Eddie isn’t your girlfriend.” Anne was closer now. “Do you need medical attention? You’re not making any sense. Oh goodness, Richard, maybe he’s having a stroke.”
His side was pulsing. Eddie said his did too sometimes, a casual reminder that they’d been nearly eaten alive. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as his head, though.
He needed to get to his phone so he could call Eddie.
Eddie knew what to do to help. He wouldn’t be scared of his parents.
Just as he started to move his head so he could try to roll out of bed, he heard his mom speak again, much lower, probably directly to his dad.
He had extremely sensitive hearing when he had migraines, though, so he could still hear what she was saying.
“This note has those names with phone numbers. Maybe we should call them?”
“It’s just a hangover. He has to man up.”
“It just seems like more than a hangover. He’s in real pain.”
“You do what you want. Coddle him if you must. I have a business dinner to get ready for.”
He heard his father leave the room, but didn’t bother moving.
His mom was suddenly talking into the phone.
“Is this Eddie? Yes, this is Anne Harrington. Steve’s mom, yes. He had your number written down by the phone. He’s asking for you and he seems to be quite hungover. It’s not? Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, could you come keep an eye on him, then? I would appreciate it. I could pay you.” Steve heard yelling on the other end and tried to smirk, but his face was in too much pain. “Okay, see you soon.”
“Steve? Eddie’s coming. He didn’t want any money or anything to sit with you, but I’ll leave some on the counter just in case.”
“Loves me.”
“What was that?”
Steve turned his head to the side so he could say it again, emphasize to his mother that people actually loved him.
“He loves me.”
He was met with silence, but he was happy about it, his head still finding new ways to hurt even after 100 migraines.
His mom left the room, but he knew Eddie was coming, so he rested.
When he woke up, Robin’s hands were in his hair. She was gently combing through it, from scalp to ends, being careful to avoid any tangles that may have been hiding.
“Robs.”
“Hey Dingus,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t handle normal talking voices when it was this bad. “Gave Eds and I quite a scare having your mom call, you know.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“Eddie?”
“He’s downstairs giving your parents the riot act while he unloads groceries. He’s pissed.”
“At me?”
“No, never you. He’s got your extra strength pain meds that you were out of though.”
Steve had forgotten to get more last time he went to the store and he admittedly wouldn’t be this bad off if he had them ready to go when he woke up this morning.
But Eddie always took care of him and Robin always took care of him, and he was allowed to not have to do everything for himself anymore.
“It’s like you don’t even care that he’s hurt because of fucking government conspiracies!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Robin’s hand froze as they listened to Eddie and his dad go back and forth.
“The Russians almost killed him! Where were you? Not fucking here! The monsters almost killed him! Where were you? Probably on a business trip or whatever it is you rich fucks like to do with your time that should be spent checking in on your son.”
“Oh boy,” Robin slowly started to get up, causing Steve to whimper. “I’m gonna send him up here to cool off. Just breathe.”
So he did. He breathed in, then out, in, then out.
He did that until he felt Eddie’s hands in his hair, lips on his forehead.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against his hair. “Brought you some water and meds.”
“Yelling?”
“They deserve it. But don’t worry about that right now. Just take these pills and sleep. I got ya.”
“Got me.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, always got you.”
He could hear Robin yelling downstairs now, but he didn’t focus on it, following Eddie’s advice and sitting up just enough to swallow the pills and half a glass of water.
As he fell asleep, he heard Robin whispering to Eddie.
“He’s got us, at least.”
“Yeah, he does.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#robin buckley#platonic stobin#steve's parents suck#migraine steve again i know okay#but it's just so gd good#soft and protective eddie#soft and protective robin#requests
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The Newlywed Game
Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe
young dad!harry and young mom!reader play the newlywed game!
wc: 5k
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“Okay, Mom, Dad, please state your names for the video.”
Harry and Y/n shared a look like they couldn’t actually believe they were doing this. It was a quick one, though, and Harry was the first to snap his head back towards the phone propped up on a tripod. “Hello, I’m Harry. Collette’s dad.”
Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As long as she’d known him, Harry always introduced himself like he was some random guy that taught at the local high school and not a world famous musician. Harry caught his wife’s stare and raised his eyebrows at her, a question in his eyes. Y/n ignored it and proceeded to introduce herself as Collette’s mom.
A few months ago, Collette decided she wanted to start a YouTube channel. Since they tried to keep all six of their kids out of the limelight, it wasn’t something that Harry or Y/n were exactly thrilled to hear about. At first, Y/n had said no, telling her second oldest daughter that she was too young and didn’t have any business making videos on the Internet for the general public. She felt bad at how quickly she shut it down, especially since Collette was rather upset about being told no, but her mind was still made up.
What was most surprising was that Harry was the one who convinced her to say yes. Y/n couldn’t believe it. In all the time they’d been together, her husband appeared on his social media accounts only a handful of times. He was practically anti-social media, yet here he was, encouraging her to change her mind. “I talked to Jeff, and he said he would help keep an eye on things.”
“I don’t know, Harry. She’s seventeen. And the internet can be so cruel. We’ve done such a good job keeping them away from all of that.” Every one of their kids’ social media accounts had their comments turned off. Most, if not all, of their social media posts were pre-approved before getting posted, though that was becoming harder and harder the older they got. Simone, who was in college now, was still careful, but she wasn’t telling her parents about each picture she posted on her Instagram either.
“I think it’ll be fine,” Harry had insisted, kissing her cheek as she got the next day’s lunches ready for the twins, Collette, and Natalia a couple of hours after she had said no. Her daughter had groaned and looked like she was about to stomp her foot in frustration, but instead she told Y/n that she was the worst mom in the world and was ruining her life. Y/n was more than ready to tell her daughter that she better not be speaking to her that way, that fiery, argumentative side rising to the surface of her typically calm demeanor. They argued for a few minutes, then eventually left each other alone to blow off some steam. Collette stomped up to her room, but knew better than to slam her bedroom door, and that appeared to be that.
Harry had come home to a tense house, his wife and daughter in their separate corners and not talking to each other. He’d gone to Y/n first, asking her why the house was so quiet when it was usually buzzing with some sort of chatter. That’s when Y/n told him about Collette’s request, her answer, and the blow up that followed. Harry had gone upstairs a little while later to smooth things over with Lettie, who was quick to rest her head on his shoulder and vent about her mom.
“She doesn’t get it, she never does,” she’d said.
Harry ran his hand through his daughter’s hair, careful not to pull too hard on any knots. “Did you ever stop to think that she said no because she loves you and wants to keep you safe? Your mum has been on the receiving end of a lot of hate,” he said gently. “We don’t want to see that happen to you or your brother or sisters, peanut. It feels extreme, but we’re just looking out for you.”
Collette didn’t have anything to say in response to that until she eventually grumbled, “She didn’t have to be so mean about it.”
“Maybe not. Did you try to explain why you want to do this?”
“She didn’t even give me a chance! She just flat out told me no.”
He could hear the shakiness in Collette’s voice, the same shakiness that always appeared when she was frustrated. Whether she liked it or not, she was like her mom in more ways than she would ever know. It made a small smile flicker on Harry’s face to see a reflection of the woman he loved so much sitting next to him. His daughter.
“Your mum and I want to do what we think is best for you. You know that our lives aren’t as normal as we’d maybe like them to be.”
“Dad, I know, but I really want to do this. All my friends get to post about their lives whenever they want and I have to check with you or Mom first. It’s suffocating sometimes. It just feels like you don’t trust me sometimes.” Collette stopped for a moment, and Harry knew that this was something that had been on her mind for a while.
“That’s not why we have these rules, Collette. Not at all.”
Harry wanted to give her the world, and in a lot of ways he had, but he’d never really thought about how their rules might feel restricting, having only ever wanted to keep their children safe. And Simone never really had a problem with it, so Harry and Y/n figured it would be the same for the rest of their kids. But of course it wasn’t the same. All their kids were different and dealt with things differently.
Simone was more on the introverted side, had a close group of friends that were okay with keeping to themselves—although as Harry thought back, perhaps his oldest daughter was just going along with their rules but felt different on the inside, he would have to ask her about it later. Collette was the opposite, though. She had a large group of friends that liked to go to school sports games and parties and the beach. She’d always liked photography and taking pictures of her family if they were willing, Natalia usually her main subject; it was a feat if she managed to get Harry or Y/n in front of her camera, though. In a way, he shouldn’t have been surprised that this was something Collette wanted.
“Tell me more about it,” he’d said then, and his daughter’s responding smile was enough to make him crack. But he couldn’t say yes yet, he had to talk to his wife first.
So after making good on his promise and talking to his manager, making sure his little girl was safe and happy, they let her make her videos.
They were mostly pretty short, just of her doing her makeup in front of her camera and answering questions about her family. Sometimes she would ask Harry if she could borrow his clothes, and he would say yes because she was always borrowing something of his to wear to school, but to his surprise, it ended up being for a video, something with a title along the lines of turning her dad’s grandpa sweaters into something “cute.” He frowned when he watched it with Y/n in their bedroom one night, but she just laughed, more on board with her daughter’s hobby than ever. In other videos, she let her siblings join in—she’d do their hair or makeup or take them shopping or making food in the kitchen.
It wasn’t until Y/n appeared quickly in one of Lettie’s videos to do her hair for homecoming that requests came in to see more of her parents. She’d come to them and asked if they would sit down and play a game for one, and after lots of begging, they eventually caved.
“Tell us what you’re going to be doing today,” Collette said from behind the camera, a set of questions ready to go in her lap.
Harry looked relaxed in jeans and a sweater, his hair artfully messy as it always was. Y/n was in a pair of leggings and one of Harry’s old sweatshirts. It was black with the print faded to the point where it was barely visible, but through the sharp lens of Collete’s camera picked up what looked like a picture of the earth with words printed over it. Collette had frowned at her parents’ casual attire, but she decided not to comment on it seeing as she got them to film this video in the first place. And not that it really mattered anyway; in pajamas or dressed up for one of Harry’s events, her parents always looked fantastic.
“Erm, we are here to play the…sorry, peanut, what’s it called?” Harry said. His brows furrowed, like he was trying to recall the title Collette had given the video a few days ago.
She’d printed out a list of questions that they were going to answer today with the title printed in bold at the top. Like Y/n, Collette was very organized and had a list for practically every little thing that she did. Y/n looked over the list thoroughly while Harry decided to wing it on the day Collette said they were meant to film her video.
“Babe, don’t call her peanut on camera,” Y/n chided, shoving her husband’s arm lightly. She saw Collette’s frown from behind the camera when the name left Harry’s lips and was quick to correct him. She knew that all the stuff her daughter didn’t like could just be edited out, but Y/n figured things would go a lot smoother if their daughter didn’t get flustered and upset with them in the first five minutes of filming this video. Smiling cheerfully at the camera, Y/n said, “We’re playing the newlywed game, remember?”
“Right!” Harry said, his face lighting up at the familiar name. “Right, I remember because we’re playing a game for newlyweds even though we’ve been married for years.”
“Yeah, well, this will be a test to see how well you know each other after being together for so long,” Collette replied.
After that, they recorded the rules of the game—writing their answers to a number of questions about each other on little individual white boards, each right answer won them a point, and the one with the most points won the game.
“Okay, first question,” Collette said, looking down at her list. “When is your spouse’s birthday?”
“Spouse?” Y/n muttered, writing her answer down without hesitation. “Kind of formal, but alright.”
“But isn’t that what we are, love?” Harry asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
Y/n merely hummed before turning her whiteboard over. “Easy. February first, nineteen ninety-four.”
Harry flipped his own board over, his answer correct, too. From there they answered more trivia about their relationship—anniversaries, favorite colors, zodiac signs, how old they were, and so on.
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“Who’s the better driver?” Collette asked.
Both of them were quick to jot down their answers. When they lifted their boards up to show their answers, Harry scoffed. “That is not even true.”
Y/n looked at her husband’s board, and saw that he’d written himself instead of her. “Not even! I’m a much better driver.”
“Y/n, I love you, but every time you get behind the wheel you drive like we’re in a high-speed chase.”
“I do not!”
Looking beyond the camera, Harry asked Collette, “Lettie, back me up here. I’m the better driver, right?”
“No, no. That’s not how that works. You can’t ask her,” Y/n said. “And besides, she’d disagree with you anyway.”
“It’s not that deep,” Collette said, trying to diffuse the argument before her parents could get started. Over the years, she realized that her parents didn’t fight very much, but their silly arguments could get quite intense, as both her mom and dad liked to be right. “Can we just move on, please?”
“I can’t believe you think I drive like a fugitive,” Y/n muttered as she wiped her answer away in preparation for the next question.
“I love you,” he said in reply, kissing her cheek when she grunted at him.
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“What is the best gift you ever gave to Dad?”
“Oh, I know exactly what he’s going to put,” Y/n said confidently.
“No you don’t,” Harry pouted.
Y/n resisted the urge to tease him. “That’s the whole point of this game, H.”
“Okay, show your answers,” Collette said before they could get into another little tiff over nothing.
Harry flipped his first, his messy scrawl reading, 6 beautiful children. Y/n grinned and showed her answer, revealing that she had in fact written the exact same thing. “What did I tell you?”
“Must you be right all the time?”
Y/n pretended to think about it before saying. “Mm…Yes.”
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“Who is the better dancer?”
Harry rolled his eyes at Y/n’s smug smile, but scribbled down his answer anyway. After Collette counted down from three, they showed their answers, both whiteboards saying Y/n.
“To be fair, you have improved a lot since we first met,” Y/n amended, having seen the bashful look on Harry’s face.
There was a time when Harry used to be embarrassed by his lack of coordination. He was okay at dancing onstage to his own songs, but outside of that, he had trouble finding the beat. Y/n was no professional by any means, but she was definitely better than him.
That all changed though when they managed to sneak off to some club together. Once a month, one or two or all of the boys agreed to watch Simone while Harry and Y/n went out on a date. They usually didn’t stay out long, but it was nice to feel their age once in a while, to let go of responsibilities for just a couple hours.
All night, Y/n kept trying to pull Harry out onto the dance floor, perhaps a little tipsy and feeling the bass a little too much, frowning every time he said no. Harry felt bad, but the fear of looking like an idiot was stronger, despite the club being so dark. So he told her to go and dance while he went to the restroom. Y/n sighed, clearly not happy with him. This was their one night of the month to let loose and spend some alone time together, and he was being so grumpy. Not wanting to let him ruin the night for her, she turned and went anyway.
When Harry came back, it took him a minute to find Y/n, but when he did, a wave of jealousy washed over him. She found a partner to dance with, which could only be Harry’s fault, but he didn’t like how close his then girlfriend at the time was to the other guy. He knew Y/n would never cheat and that she really was on the dance floor to just dance, but he just couldn’t handle seeing her with someone else like that.
Harry pulled Y/n off the dance floor, saying he wasn’t feeling well and that he wanted to go back to the hotel. Y/n saw right through his bullshit, but she left with him anyway.
“Okay, what is going on with you?” she asked once they were in the confines of their car. “You didn’t want to dance, so I found someone to dance with.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate the apology, Harry, but I want to know what’s wrong. Talk to me.”
They were so young, and yet Y/n was so mature about the whole thing. Having a baby before twenty would do that, he supposed.
Harry sighed. He knew it wasn’t really a big deal, and the fact that he was making it one made him even more embarrassed. “I can’t dance.”
Knowing this was obviously a touchy subject for him, she tried to keep a straight face. “Okay…What parts do you have trouble with?”
“I don’t know, all of it? I just feel so awkward.”
Taking his hand in hers, she asked, “Why have you never told me this? We could’ve gone somewhere else.”
“I know, but you seemed excited about tonight. And it’s just embarrassing when you’re…you know…”
“What?”
“Love, respectfully? You’re fucking sexy.”
Y/n blushed. There weren’t very many moments where she felt even remotely desirable sometimes, let alone sexy. “Oh stop.”
“It’s true. I’d look like an idiot dancing with you.”
Harry pulled into the back of the hotel and put the car in park, but neither of them got out. Leaning across the middle, Y/n gently took his face in her hands and kissed him, running her thumb across his cheek the way he liked when he needed to be comforted.
“I think you’re exaggerating a little. You’re not as bad as you’re making yourself out to be.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said, frowning.
Y/n kissed away the wrinkle between his brows. “I’ll teach you, baby. Don’t worry.”
“Right now?”
“Mm, sure, why not.”
Both of them got out of the car, Y/n leading Harry to her hotel room. Simone was in Zayn’s room, so they had the place to themselves for just a little bit longer. From her phone, she queued up a song, something slow and easier to dance to.
“Okay, so you’re dancing to the beat of the song, not the what’s being sung,” she said, resting her hands on Harry’s hips. “Just feel the music. Let it move you.”
Harry started off a little awkwardly, but the longer Y/n coached him, the better he got. He followed her lead, stepping when and where she said. “See?” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re so good.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. Now that he was getting the hang of it, Harry couldn’t believe he didn’t dance with Y/n more often. His hands were on her hips, she was moving against him sensually, and in the heels she was wearing, she was just tall enough to kiss him whenever she wanted.
It was safe to say that Harry was Y/n’s forever dance partner after that. Y/n was obviously still better, but he’d come a long way. He took each and every one of his daughters to their respective Daddy/Daughter dances and never left his wife alone on any dance floor.
Collette, of course, didn’t know much about her dad’s dancing, just that he danced like dads often did. “Yeah, Dad, you’re not bad, Mom is just better.”
Harry shrugged and sighed playfully. “Can’t argue with that, can I?”
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“Okay, Mom, what is your favorite Harry Styles song?”
“Oh that’s hard, there’s just so many to pick from,” Y/n said, holding the board close to her chest. In truth, she had one in mind, but she was also thinking about what her husband would write as his answer, which made her hesitate.
She looked up, only to find that Harry was already waiting to meet her eyes. From behind the camera, Collette watched as her parents had a silent conversation. They stared at each other for a couple seconds, then finally seemed to end their conversation and went back to their whiteboards.
“Dad, you first,” Collette said, gesturing behind the camera for him to show his answer.
Harry flipped his board around revealing the words, “Track 15.”
Y/n flipped hers around to reveal the same thing.
“Do you want to explain?” Collette asked. She knew the song of course, but seeing as it was an unreleased song, she felt her parents should elaborate for the video.
“It’s a song H recorded for our what? Third wedding anniversary?” Y/n said. “It’s a love song, and little JuJu is on it, and it’s so sweet. I cry every time I listen to it, I think.”
Harry smiled at her. “You do.” Then to the camera, he said, “I play it when she’s cross with me too. Reminds her why she loves me.”
Y/n’s mouth opened in shock, clearly unaware of her husband’s make-up tactics. But then she closed it and gave Harry a look. “We’ll talk about it later.”
A look of fear crossed Harry’s face, and Collette just shook her head behind the camera before moving onto the next question.
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“How did the two of you meet?”
Harry and Y/n were quick to answer on their boards, and when they flipped, they had the same answer.
“Her friend was an extra on the What Make You Beautiful video, and Y/n came too. Caught my eye immediately.”
“That is not what happened,” Y/n replied. “Zayn buried him in sand while he was taking a nap on the beach and I was the only one who wanted to wake him up.”
“I remember it differently,” was all Harry said.
“But,” Y/n added. “He and the boys joined my friend and me for a game of beach volleyball, which they’d never played before, and I will say you were quite flirtatious.”
“Knew what I wanted,” he said with a confident grin.
In truth, Y/n was surprised when Harry approached her. Her friend was the one who thought he was cute, and she was the one who was in the music video, so Y/n didn’t think any of the boys would notice her, much less take an interest in her. And he didn’t really talk to her until much later in the day. Niall and Louis were kind of the only ones who talked to her between shoots, and she thought Niall was quite funny.
To be fair, all of the One Direction boys were cute and funny and charming, but Niall was the one she had drifted toward at first, if only because he made her feel the most welcome. Later on, Harry had attached himself at Y/n’s hip while they played volleyball together. And long after too. He pulled her toward the shore and walked with her, asking her all sorts of questions from where she was from to what she was doing the next day. It was unexpected after he hadn’t spoken to her most of the day, but Y/n became more and more smitten the longer they talked.
As someone who wasn’t flirted with often, Y/n, for lack of better word, ate it all up. She thought he was so kind and she liked his smile and his pretty green eyes. She remembered feeling so light when her friend dropped her off at home, Harry’s number scribbled on a piece of paper in her back pocket. In the back of her mind, she knew she probably wouldn’t see him again, but he texted her that same night and asked if she was free tomorrow, and it just kind of spiraled from there.
Y/n never expected one little afternoon would turn into a lifetime with Harry, but she sometimes felt like it had been fate that she’d been there that day, even if her friend didn’t speak to her for a week for stealing Harry’s attention.
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“Which of you tends to get the most jealous?”
“I’d say neither of us get very jealous,” Harry said thoughtfully.
“Not anymore. You’ve always had a bit of a jealous streak,” Y/n amended. “Remember at the video shoot and Niall was chatting with me?”
Harry scratched his head and looked away from his wife. “No.”
Y/n laughed as she recalled the memory. “He was kind of the only one that day who would stop and talk to me before Harry did, and I remember looking over and thinking about your dad,” she said to Collette, “who pissed in his cereal this morning? Because he had this frown on his face whenever I caught his eye, and I’d hardly even spoken to him!”
“Uncle Niall was hitting on you?” Collette asked, unable to hide her disbelief and slight disgust.
“The correct response, thank you,” Harry said.
Y/n shook her head as if they’d had this conversation a million times. “He was talking you up, babe.”
“What?”
“Yeah. He said you were too shy to make the first move, but you ‘fancied’ me. It was so cute.”
Harry had been nervous to talk to Y/n. She’d woken him up at the beach earlier in the afternoon, but she hadn’t spoken to him since, and Harry didn’t know how to strike up a conversation with her. She was this beautiful American girl who just seemed so cool, so out of his league. Harry was slowly gaining confidence from being in the band, but he still got tongue tied around girls he fancied, and Y/n was no different. It wasn't until Zayn pushed him over to the volleyball courts that he felt confident enough to be more charming. Y/n made him comfortable enough to be himself, and he knew he needed to do as much as he could to let him give her his number so he could see her again. Harry wasn’t going to be in LA very long, so he knew he had to make those couple days count.
Boy did he ever.
“We used to get a little jealous, but,” Y/n shrugged, “I don’t know I think we just grew out of it, don’t you think?”
“I’d say that’s pretty fair,” Harry agreed, though he knew how much of a hard time his wife had the first year or two they were together. It was hard for her to watch him flirt and be cheeky with other women on national television or go on fake dates when she was home with Simone. Harry was never tempted, not once, but he knew that he would’ve felt similarly if the roles were reversed.
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“What is Mom’s favorite tattoo of Dad’s?”
“I don’t even think I know,” Y/n said as she tapped her marker against her whiteboard.
“Definitely not the butterfly,” Harry muttered, scribbling something down.
“That’s not true! It was just jarring to see at first. You didn’t even tell me you were gonna get it!”
Harry shrugged and winked at the camera. “I like to be spontaneous.”
Collette waited for her parents to finish writing their answers, though she was surprised that this was the one that took the longest for Y/n to answer. When it looked like they were done, she said, “Okay, three, two, one, flip!”
Harry’s board read, Brazil. When he saw Y/n’s answer, he scoffed. “Really?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s cute!” she said when he judged her answer if, palm tree. “You’re like a little California girl at heart.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “I figured Brazil one because, you know, you actually did that one.”
The truth they refused to admit was that deep down Y/n’s favorite were the fern tattoos. She always took extra time kissing them whenever they were intimate, but neither of them were willing to admit that in front of their daughter or on camera.
“Close second,” Y/n said with a knowing glance at Harry.
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“Who said I love you first?”
Harry and Y/n answered with a resounding, “Harry” and “H.”
Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I was quick to follow, to be fair.”
Harry shrugged, a smug little grin on his face. “I was still first.”
Y/n just rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed, as if she was remembering the day right then.
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“Okay, and last couple questions. What is Dad’s drink of choice?”
When asked to reveal her board, Y/n turned it around, the words “neat tequila” written on it. She felt pretty confident about it, but when Harry turned his board around, she frowned. “Since when?”
“Your dad turned me onto Scotch years ago,” he said, looking at her incredulously.
“Lies.”
“Babe, every Christmas your dad and I share a drink together. It’s like our thing.”
“You have a tequila reposado every time we go out.”
“That‘s…also true,” Harry admitted, grinning sheepishly.
Collette decided that was a good time to move on. “And what’s Mom’s?”
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“Okay, everyone! That was my parents playing the newlywed game!” Collette said, now sitting between Harry and Y/n.
She did her usual sign-off with her parents, though both insisted that they revealed who won the game. It was close, but Harry beat Y/n by two points, which Collette knew would be the topic of conversation the next couple days. Her parents were weirdly competitive with each other.
It was safe to say that that video was Collette’s most viewed. People went crazy over seeing Harry and Y/n together like that when the didn’t normally make public appearances unless it had to do with Harry’s music. They were often dubbed “Hollywood’s Most Elusive Couple” for a reason, so to see them in a video together, and one where they talked about their relationship, at that, was a pleasant surprise for everyone.
Request after request came in to see more of Harry and Y/n, but Collette knew it would be a while before her parents agreed. Not that she minded, she was just glad they agreed in the first place.
#harry styles#young dad! harry#young mom! reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic
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❝KEEPING SECRETS❞ — miles 42 x reader (part 1)
⋆✮↪ summary: he thought he was doing right by you by keeping you at a distance, by keeping you in the dark of everything he was doing. he thought it was right to keep his secrets... just so he wouldn't lose you. well, in the end, was it worth it?
⋆✮↪ pairing: miles 42 x gn!reader
⋆✮↪ word count: 1,864
⋆✮↪ author's note: tbh, i wanted to make the idea about miles 42, not really bc of the angst but bc i wanted to write more about my other son, i don't feel like i make enough for him 😭😭😭also i'm sorry if the spanish is wrong, i'm not fluent, but if y'all are willing to correct me for it, by all means, please do! I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS THOUGHHHH
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
the line on the other end beeped, he never did bother to leave a voicemail to whoever called anyway. you set your phone down with a sigh as you stirred your drink mindlessly, looking at your phone, hoping that at least he sent a message, saying he got your call, even if he wouldn't ask why you called. you put your hands to your face and tried to calm down, collect your thoughts before doing anything rash. this was a normal occurrence for you two already, you always calling out for him or texting him, and you going completely unnoticed by him; and the worst part? he's been your boyfriend. for six months.
you wanted to watch miles walk in through the door of the restaurant and sit himself down across you, all so you could take your drink and splash it all over him, not caring what he'd say or think of you while you'd drench him. hell, maybe you'd even throw the cup at his face, but you felt bad thinking about that, you didn't want to stoop too low. besides... you loved him, you really did--and you knew he loved you, too, kind of. you knew the exact reason as to why he always misses out on dates with you, always leaves your calls unanswered and your texts unread, and it wasn't because he was cheating on you or catching up on any homework, no--it was because he was the prowler.
he was a vigilante, he was one criminals and authorities alike couldn't get their hands on--a cruel one, many would call him, ruthless--but not to you. he saved you from a band of crooks that were going to rob you of all that you had when you were heading home on your own one night, and the way the prowler held you, the way you heard his heart beat and felt the warmth throughout his whole body as he held you close to his chest, when he kept murmuring to you you're okay, you're okay... you never forgot that feeling. and when you met miles, when you two started dating and getting more close, more intimate... you were reminded of that feeling when the prowler saved you, when miles saved you.
but despite knowing his secret, you needed him to tell you. it was his secret, and you valued your boyfriend's privacy. he was entitled to his own secrets, as you were entitled to yours. but you wished he at least... could at least show up, could at least make time for you and be there for you when you needed him. and tonight was just that night, because tomorrow, you were going to be trying out for your school's varsity team; the stakes were high enough as it was already for you and you felt pressured, extremely pressed, to push yourself further than what you can already do now. miles promised you, weeks before this, that he'd be there for you--he'd be there when you needed him, he promised; but now, where was he?
you refused to wait for him any longer; you chugged your drink and with an irritated sigh, you left the restaurant behind you, fuming as you thought of what to tell him, what to ask him, how to tell him tomorrow that you... you were so disappointed in him. tomorrow eventually came, and you made your way through the flood of faces in the hallway, catching miles collecting his stuff from his locker, his back turned to the people passing him by. you grabbed him by his shoulder, glaring at him with an icy stare as you narrowed your eyes at him. "que pasa, cielo?" miles asked you with a raised eyebrow and a perplexed look on his face in response to your scowling, as if he had no clue as to why you were so infuriated with him. "miles, where were you?" you asked him in an exasperated tone, clearly exhausted, and clearly in need of answers.
not looking to anger you, miles looked away and murmured, "i was... helping my tio aaron fix up his car, no biggie." "i called your uncle aaron last night, he said you were sleeping." you pressed him as he shut his locker's door, not looking back towards you as he began to walk away to defuse the situation, at least, he thought it would defuse it. you were not having it, though, and followed him through the crowds of people that were passing you two in the hallway. "i slept because my tio made me do some heavy lifting, he insisted i should've gone to bed, that's all." he answered you back as he held himself back from getting any more agitated with this mountain of lies and excuses he's made for himself.
if you only knew just how much miles wanted to tell you the truth, how he wanted to be upfront and honest with you, tell you the real reason why he's been missing out on dates with you, not being able to answer your calls or texts, being unable to support when you need him, when he wants to be there for you... but being the prowler isn't just something he can quit, it's a job he takes up so no one else he loves, and especially not you, gets hurt or taken away from him.
you breathe in deeply as you try to put up with his crappy excuse again. "well, alright, but you never bothered to answer my calls? surely you would've woken up, right, your phone's always got its sound on. hell, you could've texted me, explained why you couldn't come, because i would've understood, i'd've understood if you just told me--" you said as you grasped miles' hand, but he was in no mood to face you right now. he wasn't angry nor disappointed in you, of course not; he believed you had every right to be angry, but miles was angry at... himself. he couldn't bear to have you face him, put up with him when he knew what he was doing wasn't enough to keep you happy. he yanked his hand away from your grasp and turned to face you, anger and fury filling his face.
"no digas cosas que no sientes! you don't mean that, not when you don't know anything! have you ever thought of that?!"
he yelled at you. he raised his voice at you.
...he really doesn't believe in you, does he?
miles panted as he tried to shake the simmering rage and aggression he was feeling off. he couldn't stomach it, the fact he should've been there with you that night, reassuring you, comforting you, supporting you like he promised--just being there to listen to you would've been enough, but he couldn't even do that. he felt like he was being tortured when he brought himself to look at you in the eyes, he didn't feel like he deserved you, of being loved by you. "cielo, i..." miles spoke as he tried to gather his thoughts, say he was sorry he snapped--but no words followed his quieting voice. his mouth was open, but no words came out. you looked at him in utter bafflement as the fact he spoke to you like that sunk in, piercing your heart like a dagger. all you wanted was the truth, the truth to come out of his own lips in his own voice by his own volition--but he couldn't even give you that without a fight, almost as if you didn't deserve the truth.
you realized it too late, and soon felt the hot tears rolling down your cheeks and staining your uniform's blazer and making small pools of tears on the floor. your lips twisted into a frown, the corners of your lips quivering as you sniffled back the tears, telling yourself to quit crying, but crying even harder as your inner voice got louder. "what am i doing wrong, miles?" you made out with a sob as your crying intensified, with the tears flowing faster and harder. "am i not... not good enough, not worth... not worth being given your time? i try to see things... from where you stand, but... how can i even begin to do that when you're not even... you're not even with me at all anymore?" you asked him in between your cries as miles looks at you, about to take a step forward and comfort you, but he stops himself. his eyes are filled with regret and shame for what he just did, what he just said to you.
the other students in the hall were drawn to the drama occurring between you two in the middle of the hallway, with some coming over to get a better look, others buzzing around for questions on who did what, what happened where and why. miles tried to open his mouth to speak, to say a word of apology, but his voice seemed stuck in his throat as he opened his mouth and closed it again. "i can't be with you anymore. we're done, miles." you said in a louder voice, which caused miles' heart to stop beating for a few seconds, benumbing him as he stepped back and was stuck in place, processing what you just told him. you ran off, away from everyone's stares, leaving miles alone there to reflect on what he just did.
miles tried to get himself to run after you, open his mouth and finally release the voice that longed to speak your name, call you and apologize a million apologies that would only be the tip of the iceberg. he did what he had to to keep you safe, to... keep you, but he ended up losing you in the process. he lost you because he didn't meet with you, he didn't keep his promise, he couldn't keep a single promise, which was why he couldn't even keep you.
the onlookers and bystanders eventually moved away and awkwardly filled in the silence that was left between you two with mindless chatter and murmuring. miles eventually came to his senses, partially, and slowly walked away from the spot he was frozen on after he let what just happened sink into him. he headed off to his first class with a murky and somber expression as he realized he lost you. he tried to conceal his despair and dejection, until ganke came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "miles, are you--" "they left me." miles responded briefly, his voice quiet and hushed, as if to mask the utter sorrow he was experiencing. ganke gazed up at miles, who was now tearing up slightly, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. "they left me, ganke. i was... i was so... i wasn't doing enough..." he wept as he leaned against ganke, with ganke patting him on the shoulder as he walked him off to their first class. miles tread to class with a storm brewing in his mind, he couldn't focus on nor understand a single thing except for the fact that he's lost you.
but he won't give up that easily.
tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @solecitoszn @q2ie @anikaluv @zalayni
#earth 42 miles morales#earth 42 miles#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales angst#miles 42 x reader#miles 42#earth 42 miles morales x you#earth 42 miles morales x y/n#miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles morales x you#miles morales x y/n#miles morales angst#atsv#atsv imagines#atsv angst#atsv x reader#atsv x you#atsv x y/n#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse angst
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SEE ME AT MY WORST | hwang hyunjin
anon request: Hyunjin has food poisoning and yn takes care of him (1.7k words)
warning: mentions of vomit (to my fellow emetophobic people I got you), nakedness (but not smut lol), swearing
"Don't come in here!" Hyunjin groans, his voice muffled from inside the bathroom. You'd knocked on the door a couple times, waiting for his response, and you weren't surprised to hear he didn't want you to come in.
Your ever-perfect boyfriend had no intention of letting you see him at his lowest. Despite being together for almost a year, you hadn't so much as seen him have a bad hair day. Whilst you woke up after a sleepover with drool dried to your chin, your hair a birds nest atop your head and your clothes sticking to you from Hyunjin's over bearing body heat, he woke up flawless. Always.
It was daunting, your significant other being so damn put together all the time, but you'd grown to accept and expect it after all these months. However, truth be told, when Changbin had messaged to tell you Hyunjin was practically dying from food poisoning and rotting away in his bedroom, you were more shocked than worried. The worst you'd seen of him thus far was when he'd broken his hand, and he didn't even let that stop him from maintaining his perfect persona.
You'd made your way to his dorm straight away, wasting no time in packing together a 'get well soon' bundle containing all of his favourite foods. Changbin's text explained exactly why you hadn't heard from your boyfriend all day, which was more than unusual for him.
Despite you're hurried rush to make sure Hyunjin was alright, you'd been decidedly locked out the dorms bathroom, where Hyunjin had locked himself in.
"I'm all gross and disgusting," he whines, and you hear him flush the toilet and slump down onto the floor. "I refuse for you to see me like this."
"Cut the dramatics," you reply, raising your voice so he can hear you through through the closed door. You lower yourself so you're sitting against it, holding the package in your lap.
Hyunjin only whines before you hear the distinct sound of throwing up, making you cringe at the thought of your poor boyfriend being so unwell. The door to Changbin's room swings open and he walks out lazily, throwing you a grin.
"He's not letting you see him?" He asks, leaning against the wall opposite of you, smirking. You shake your head with a half smile. "Figures. When he had tonsillitis last year he locked himself in his bedroom for a week."
"Stop bitching about me!" You hear Hyunjin shout, making you chuckle. The toilet flush goes off again.
"Grow a set!" Changbin shouts back, a smirk etched on his features. "She's your girlfriend, not the mass media."
"Fuck off Changbin!" Hyunjin whines, and you tilt your head at Changbin in defeat.
"Good luck with that," is all he responds with, picking up his keys from the hook beside the main door and making a swift escape. It left you and Hyunjin alone in the dorm, the other guys out at Chan's studio.
"Hyunjin, please let me in," you say desperately, resting your head against the door.
"No way," he replies, and you can just see him shaking his head.
You sigh, pulling your hands through your hair. "How did you even get food poisoning in the first place?"
"Dodgy kebab street vendor," he answers, audibly gagging at the reminder. "Jeongin warned me against it, but I was starving."
"You're appetite might be the death of you one day," you say sincerely, smiling when you hear him laugh. "How are you feeling now?"
"Like I've been run over six times and buried," he replies, turning the dramatics on full throttle. You roll your eyes fondly, tapping your feet together absentmindedly.
"The guys are all out," you tell him, unsure if he knows the ongoings of his dorm mates after being cooped up in the bathroom for however long. "They won't see you if you let me come in."
"I don't care," Hyunjin responds firmly. "I don't want my pretty girlfriend seeing me in such a gross state."
You don't reply straight away, thinking about another angle to attack this from. "Remember when I got super drunk after Seungmin and Felix's birthday party and threw up everywhere and you took care of me?" You remind him, hearing him agree from the other side of the door. "Did you think I was disgusting then?"
"No," he says instantly. "But that was different."
"How is it different?" You fire back, feeling contempt when he stays silent. "I just want to help you, Hyun. Let me in."
You're about to give up when you hear the bathroom lock turn slowly, though Hyunjin makes no effort to actually open the door. Huffing, you stand up and push it open, tilting your head with a sad smile at your boyfriend. His blonde hair is tussled, sticking to his forehead from the beads of sweat covering it. It was obvious he had a fever, especially due to the fact he was shirtless, sporting only grey joggers as he sat slumped against the back wall.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you can't help but to tease.
"Get out," is all he says, looking at you with a deadly serious expression. You chuckle, closing the bathroom door and sliding down to lean against it. His eyes light up when you pass him the basket of goodies your brought him.
He takes it wordlessly, flicking through the items and looking up at you with his brown doe eyes. "You made this for me?"
"Thought it might cheer you up," you reply, smiling at him.
"Once this fucking food poisoning wears off I'll be devouring this shit," he says, making you laugh. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking it when it comes out soaked. "Gross. I'm literally gross. If you fall out of love with me after this I don't blame you."
"Don't be stupid," you say forwardly, leaning forward to swat him gently on the leg. "Do you know how amazing you are? You're only human, Hyun - you're still perfect in my eyes."
That makes him smile, though he tries his best to hide it. "I just feel all yucky and ugly."
"You literally have food poisoning," you remind him. "I'd be more worried if you didn't feel yucky. Do you feel like you're gonna throw up again?"
Hyunjin shakes his head. "I don't think I have anything left in me to throw up. I've not eaten anything since yesterday."
You pout at him, feeling more than sorry for your poor boyfriend. "Why don't I run you a cold shower, and when you're out I'll give you some antibiotics and I'll change your bedsheets, clean your room?"
"How did you know my rooms a mess?" He asks, ignoring everything else you've said. He had a tendency to focus on the most minuscule part of what you were saying.
"Cause your door was open when I came in - your sheets are visibly soaked from sweat and there's clothes all over the floor," you reply, smiling in a way that was all-knowing.
"Why are you so good to me?" He asks when you stand up to turn on the shower, making sure the temperature was cold but not too cold.
"Because you're my boyfriend," you respond simply. "And I love you and you'd do the same for me."
Once you deem the temperature suitable, you turn and grab Hyunjin's sweaty palms, helping him stand up. He sheds his clothes with your aid, stepping out of his joggers and boxers before stepping into the shower. You leave him to it, grabbing his clothes and bidding him a farewell.
It doesn't take you long to sort out his bedroom, putting his sheets and dirty clothes in the wash and tidying up anything else that was littering his usually immaculate room. You open the window and light some incense and candles too, since after a night of sweating Hyunjin's room had inevitably started to smell like a sewer. Once you were finished, his room was near enough unrecognisable, and you were pretty proud of your efforts.
The shower turned off a couple minutes before you'd finished, and just as you'd put a spare set of sheets on Hyunjin's bed, the man of the hour walked out with a towel wrapped around his torso. Despite it being entirely the wrong time, you couldn't help but think your boyfriend looked so handsome, his hair dripping onto his shoulders.
"Feeling better?" You ask, watching Hyunjin look around his room in awe. He walks up to you, placing his hands on your waist.
"A lot better," he mumbles, looking down at you lazily. "Thanks for cleaning my room and being an angel to me."
You giggle, tilting your head. "It's alright. Why don't you get changed and we can cuddle and watch a movie? Your antibiotics are sitting on your dresser with a glass of water," you tell him, pointing towards them before he squeezes your sides and heads towards his dresser, downing the pills with the water.
His bed had always been cosy, and now adorned with fresh sheets, you couldn’t help but snuggle into them. Flicking through Netflix, you put on Nevertheless; yours and Hyunjin’s comfort show. You’d never understood the hate it had received, though you could understand why people would rather watch an idolised and unrealistic version of a couple on screen.
Real life wasn’t happy montages and cheesy love scenes. People fall ill, people have bad days. True love, you thought, was being able to love and stick by someone even in their worst moments. When Hyunjin mopes over to you, flopping his lifeless body over yours and nestling himself between your legs, you thank every god above that you had the type of love that others can only dream of.
It doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to nod off, evident from his heavy breathing. His head rests gently on your thigh, and you can’t help but gently run your hand through his hair as he sleeps. Staring down at him, you knew you’d do anything for him. The stars and beyond.
#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#stray kids#hyunjin imagines#stray kids x you#skz#skz fluff#hwang hyunjin x you#hyunjin fluff
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the set up — rafe cameron; part ten
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.
warnings: angst, sad rafe, idk i might be forgetting something
author's note: this chapter is both long and not entirely proof read so bear with me lol. i also wrote this at like 4 am so please. anyways, i want to start making the chapters a bit longer for you guys since i've been away for so long. enjoy!
"Y/n, what's wrong? What's going on?" You could feel Rafe's tangible consternation right through the phone. Your chest felt like it was caving in, accompanied by the growing, nausea-inducing pit in your stomach formulated from your feelings of guilt. The way his typically baritone voice was strained and quiet, presumably from the unexpected "emergency"phone call you had presented him with.
"I-I got into a huge fight with JJ," you fibbed with the help of the crack in your voice and a sorrowing tone that could only make Rafe crumble right in your hands, "it's a long story, but I need to get out of here. I can't be in this place any longer, Rafe." You fraudulently sobbed.
"Okay, okay.. Just breathe, yeah? I can come and get you in a second I just really have to finish this thing with my dad fir-"
"Rafe, please. I need you now." You pleaded as though your life depended on it, which in a way, it did. You realized that had your attempt to lure Rafe into your arms failed, your friends would be in a heap of danger.
An audible sigh was heard from the other sign of the phone, along with muffled chatter that you assumed was Rafe and Ward talking. The conversation, or what you heard of it, sounded like back-and-forth bickering for the most part, which caused a wave of anxiety to wash over you as you began to pick at your nails. Seconds felt like hours as you waited to hear Rafe's voice again on the other side, but it sounded as though the conversation continued. You stayed on the other side of the line in complete silence, not wanting to interrupt the matter, but the longer it took your nerves ensued.
"I'm on my way." Rafe suddenly responded, taking you off guard after not hearing him address you within a period of time.
"Thank you." You whispered, a small smile of satisfaction present on your face at what you had managed to accomplish. Perhaps Rafe was more infatuated than you imagined, you thought.
*NEW MESSAGE FROM Y/N to KIARA CARRERA: done.*
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Time passed by quickly whilst you waited for Rafe's arrival. You paced the living room back and forth a few times, wondering how you were going to pull off such a stunt despite the pit in your stomach growing and your hands trembling with unease. Your mind became your worst enemy as you thought through everything that could go wrong as you anxiously waited for the time to come, replaying every bad scenario through your head over and over again - until you were practically sick.
Your pessimistic thoughts were cut to a halt by a loud knock at the door, one that sounded more like someone was pounding on the other side. The noise made your body jump as you immediately turned a heel towards the door. You approached hesitantly, trying to kill as much time as possible before you'd open the door, but as time progressed the knocking became quicker and louder thuds that raddled the chateau.
"Y/n. Are you hurt? Did he do something to you cause I'll kick that son of a bitch to a pul-"
"No, Rafe, I'm not hurt. Not physically, at least." You shook your head, forcing out your voice in the most pathetic tone you could possible mimic. Rafe frowned in response as he noticed the way your head hung low and eyes stayed glued to the ground.
"What did he say to you?" Rafe softly asked, approaching you with caution and ease as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing a familiar sense of butterflies to errupt and flutter around in your stomach.
"He just brought up a bunch of stuff about my family and called me a traitor for spending time with you. For being with you, basically." Your vision became blurry as tears clouded your view, unsure of how they got there, but you mentally applauded yourself for such a performance.
"I'm so sorry, y/n. C'mere." Rafe cooed sympathetically as he pulled you into his arms tightly, possibly the tightest embrace you've felt in your life, but in a sense it felt good to be held like that. Like nothing in the world could hurt you while you were wrapped up in Rafe Cameron's arms, as insane as it sounded to you.
Your body relaxed in his arms, eyes closing as you soaked up every bit of his warmth. You nearly hummed in such delight before stopping yourself, not wanting to feed into Rafe's ego more than you already were just by calling him over for help. But it did feel nice, a feeling that came as a shock to you.
"I wanna get out of here, Rafe. Please." You sniffled, looking up at the brooding figure with those sad puppy-dog eyes that could make any man melt in your hands.
"Of course. Do you want to come back to my place? You can spend the night with me if you don't feel like going home."
You shook your head, "I don't wanna go home, especially not like this. Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you tonight?"
"Yeah, yeah 'course it is. Besides, my dad probably wont be back tonight and Rose and Wheezie are with him so I'll need the company. I'd prefer yours over theirs anyways." Rafe flashed you a small smile, hoping to diminish the frown that clouded your features as he rubbed your forearms gently.
You trailed behind Rafe on the walk to the car, watching as he held the door open and gestured your inside. You gave him a weak simper and a head nod as a symbolism of your gratitude at his sentiment. You'd be a liar if you said it didn't make your heart flutter at how caring and gentle he was being towards you, but you cursed yourself for the fact that it was all because of a lie.
"Y/n?" Rafe asked, snapping you out of your trance while you gazed out of the window.
"Yeah?"
"You aren't upset with me for earlier, are you?" He inquired, biting the inside of his cheek.
"No, why would I be?" You tilted your head, brows furrowed as you made eye contact with the blue-eyed Kook.
"I don't know. I guess I just thought you seemed a little dry when I was dropping you off earlier, s'all." Rafe coughed out, noticing how he scratched the back of his head as he spoke feebly.
"Oh, I see." You blinked, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off that way. I've just been a little tired I guess."
"No, don't apologize. It's okay." He turned his head, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to reassure you with a thin-lipped smile. You observed as he clutched the steering wheel, veins ostensibly poking through along his arms and hands in a way that made your thighs clench together tightly. You gulped silently in an attempt to restrain yourself and regain composure - this was Rafe Cameron you were talking about. Yet on the other hand, despite his vainglorious ways and haughty sense-of-self, inhis eyes, a flicker of mischief dances amidst shadows, a daring tale waiting to unfold. He was the embodiment of defiance, a canvas of contradictions where danger and allure converge in captivating disarray. You found yourself ensnared by the gravity of his presence, a force that pulled your world into his magnetic orbit. You could keep reminding yourself to run away from him, but where would you go to hide? He was everywhere, from the depths of your mind, to every turning corner of Figure 8.
You made it back to the Cameron's residence before you knew it, perhaps too caught up in the thought of Rafe to realize what was happening around you. However, once the car came to a halt and your surroundings stopped moving, reality soon greeted you once again.
You hopped out of the car, following behind Rafe like a lost puppy who didn't know where it was. You felt out of place, and a bit on edge. You wondered if your friends were okay, praying that your decoy tactics were doing them good. The other half of your nerves came from the fact that you were doing something that went against your moral code, and challenged your ability to lie to the face of someone you.. Care about?
"Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea, a soda?" Rafe asked, making his way to the kitchen with you in close pursuit.
"I'm good." You passed off his offer with a half-hearted laugh and a weak smile. As you watched him, the ambient light of the fridge casted a soft glow on his silhouette. His movements were casual, effortless, as he navigated the contents in search of a drink. The way he tilted his head slightly, the lines of his profile against the cool light—it’s a fleeting portrait etched into your memory. You found yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment, the way his fingers grazed the chilled bottles, his easy familiarity with the space. There was something mesmerizing about the way he handled the mundane, turning the ordinary into a scene worth cherishing. It was as though time slowed, encapsulating this small interaction, making it feel like an eternity. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed, captivated by his presence. The faint hum of the fridge was a backdrop to the symphony of your thoughts, all centered around this magnetic figure before you. In that unguarded moment, as he stood there unaware, he became the focal point of your world, drawing you deeper into the allure of his ordinary yet enchanting actions.
"Didn't realize I had an audience," he chuckled, catching you watching him with an amused glint in his eye. There was a playful energy in his tone, a sense that he knew he had inadvertently drawn your attention.
Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he exuded a relaxed confidence. "If watching me rummage through the fridge becomes a regular show, I might have to start selling tickets," he teased, trying to lighten the moment but also displaying a subtle curiosity about what had captured your interest. His ego slowly peaking through, as usual.
"Oh, absolutely riveting," you retorted, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as you met his amused gaze. "Your fridge exploration was the highlight of my day, truly." Your lips curved into a wry smile, eyes dancing with playful mockery.
Rafe hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes softening as he met your gaze. "You know, watching you watch me... it's kind of different," he began, his voice a touch softer, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual ease.
"I mean, it's not every day someone looks at me like... well, like that," he admitted, the words stumbling out with a hint of uncertainty. His gaze briefly faltered, a struggle evident within him as if battling between speaking his mind and holding back.
But before he could continue, he stopped himself abruptly, a shadow of hesitation crossing his features. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make things weird. Forget I said anything," he deflected, a faint tinge of regret coloring his words as he tried to backtrack, a sudden unease settling over him.
As he hesitated, you caught the shift in his demeanor, a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath his usual confidence. "No, don't," you interjected softly, reaching out to gently touch his hand, your eyes imploring him to continue. "Please, whatever you were going to say... I want to hear it."
In that suspended moment of vulnerability, he gathered the courage to speak what had been on his mind for far too long. "I... I've always felt something different around you," he confessed, his voice softer than a whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.
"It's not just the way you look at me, but... how you make me feel," he continued, his gaze locking with yours, each word chosen with care, as if he was navigating uncharted territory. "There's this warmth, this comfort that settles in whenever you're near." He paused, the air thick with anticipation, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest. He struggled to find the right words to express the depth of what he felt, a mixture of fear and longing flickering in his eyes.
But as the moment hung between them, poised on the edge of revelation, he stopped himself once more, the weight of his unspoken feelings heavy upon him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," he murmured, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he withdrew, fearing he might have crossed a line.
You were stunned, his words piercing through the air, carrying a weight you hadn't expected. Your heart fluttered in response, a mix of surprise and a tinge of something deeper stirring within you.
"I never realized," you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside. His confession had caught you off guard, unraveling a part of your own feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.
"There's always been this... something," you confessed, your words coming out in a rush, a newfound realization taking hold. "A connection, a pull towards you that I couldn't quite define."
Yet, before you could explore this uncharted territory further, you sensed his hesitation, his retreat from the vulnerable moment you had both stepped into. The abruptness left you reeling, an unspoken ache lingering in the charged air between you.
"I didn't mean to make it awkward," you murmured, regret coloring your tone as you witnessed his uncertainty. The unspoken sentiments hung heavy, a silent conversation begging to be continued, the depth of emotions left unexplored.
In the hush of that moment, you found yourselves locked in a silent exchange. His gaze, an ocean of depths, met yours with an unwavering intensity, drawing you in like a force. You perched on the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface beneath you, as he closed the distance, a dance of proximity that felt almost orchestrated by fate.
Closer, step by deliberate step, until the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Rafe's presence enveloped you, a shield from the outside world, as if the space around you had collapsed into a world of its own. You felt his warmth seep through the inches that separated you, a silent harmony of shared breaths.
In that suspended moment, time seemed to stand still. Your breaths mingled, creating a delicate rhythm of anticipation. His hand moved with a tenderness that spoke volumes, gently enclosing you within the confines of that intimate space.
And as his closeness eclipsed the distance between you, your eyes locked in a silent conversation, saying things that mere words couldn't articulate. The world outside faded into insignificance as the universe shrank to just the two of you, suspended in a timeless embrace of unspoken longing.
Your breath hitched, Rafe's minty-breath fanning over your skin as his lips lingered a few inches from your face. You felt a flutter in your chest as his eyes bore into yours, each glance a revelation, unraveling layers of unspoken emotions. In the depth of his stare, you sensed a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.
Before you had time to think, his lips connected with yours, passionately but with a delicacy that made it seem like if he pushed too far, you would break. You took in his affection, pulling him in by the back of his neck as he hungrily devoured the cherry lip balm off of your glossy lips. Rafe kept the pace slow, but his movements were eager and greedy for more of you. His large hands trailing up your open thighs, stopping at your hips as he gripped them and squeezed at them lightly.
You moaned into his mouth as you longed for more of him, a testimate you figured you'd regret doing later, but in that moment, you needed him, and he knew it.
Rafe responded with a smirk against your lips, letting out a deep, low chuckle from the bottom of his throat that sent tingles down your spine. You arched your body towards his, caving into his touch and practically begging for more. You weren't exactly sure why you were so taken over by such feeling of lust, but you wouldn't dare brush it off.
"God, I love you." Rafe groaned, murmuring his words against your neck yet they came out plain as day. Your eyes, previously shut as you took in the bliss of what you were experiencing, now shot wide open and you stared ahead.
"You.. What?" You stammered on your words as your throat seemingly went dry.
In the wake of his sudden admission, you were left speechless, the air heavy with the unexpected weight of his confession. His words lingered in the space between you, a revelation that seemed to have shifted the very ground beneath your feet.
You looked at him, shock etched in your features, mirrored in the stunned expression on his face. In that suspended moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you, a shared astonishment at the sudden revelation.
Time seemed to halt, the air thick with a mix of emotions, leaving you both stranded in an uncomfortable silence. His confession hung in the air, and you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, trying to comprehend the sudden turn of events.
The shock of his abrupt admission left you reeling, unsure of how to respond, as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted. The air crackled with a charged tension, a profound moment that had unexpectedly unfolded between you, leaving you both standing at the precipice of an uncertain new chapter.
"Y/n-I... It was the heat of the moment." He was lying right through his teeth.
"Rafe you don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'." You stated, face still covered in shock.
"I know, I know," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and sincerity, attempting to backpedal. "But sometimes... things just spill out, you know?"
You looked at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, the shock still painted across your features. "You don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'," you stated firmly, your voice carrying a weight of conviction.
He met your gaze, his eyes searching for a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. "I guess... I might have gotten carried away," he admitted, a hint of remorse coloring his words. "But that doesn't mean I don't mean it, Y/n."
His attempt to retract his words faltered in the face of your unwavering response, leaving an uncomfortable tension hanging between you, the unspoken truth lingering in the air, too palpable to be ignored.
"I messed up, saying it like that," Rafe sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone as he struggled to express himself. "But the truth is, I've been feeling this way for a while now."
You watched him, the shock slowly morphing into a mix of confusion and a glimmer of curiosity. "Rafe, why now? Why like this?" you questioned, seeking clarity in the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed both of you.
He hesitated, searching for the right words, a turbulent storm brewing in his thoughts. "I didn't plan it, it just happened," he confessed, a sense of urgency in his voice. "But... being around you, it's like discovering something I didn't know I needed. And I don't want to pretend otherwise."
The vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and a hint of desperation to convey what he truly felt. The intensity of the moment lingered, a raw and unfiltered exchange leaving you both exposed, suspended in a realm of unresolved emotions.
The sudden confession left you reeling, a storm of conflicting thoughts raging within. His words echoed in your mind, but beneath the shock, a sense of unease crept in. You couldn't ignore the inconvenient truth—you had approached him under false pretenses, a lie woven into the fabric of your interactions.
As his feelings spilled out, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time. Guilt tugged at your conscience, reminding you that your connection with him was built on a shaky foundation. How could you entertain the possibility of reciprocating his feelings when the truth had been veiled behind a facade?
His sincerity clashed with the dishonesty looming over your encounters. The weight of regret settled heavy on your shoulders, wishing for an alternate reality where honesty could pave the way for genuine emotions to blossom.
Amidst the tumult of emotions, you grappled with the turmoil of regret, longing for a different circumstance where the truth could guide the course of your connection with him.
"Rafe.. you don't know what you're saying." You shook your head, voice quiet as your head hung low while guilt proceeded you.
"But I know how I feel, Y/n."
He watched you, a sense of helplessness clouding his features as he realized the weight of his confession. "I get it if this is too much, too soon," he murmured, a mix of sincerity and a hint of pleading in his voice. "I just needed you to know."
There was a pang of regret in his chest, knowing that his impulsive admission might have pushed things too far, too quickly. He hoped for understanding, for a chance to rectify the situation, but the gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncertain tension between you both.
"Rafe, please.. Don't do this." You continued shaking your head at him, your body deterring his words away from you.
Rafe’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and a longing to make things right. "I didn't mean to make things complicated," he said, his voice laced with regret as he recognized the distress in your plea.
"I'll back off, I promise," he assured, a sense of resignation coloring his words. "I'll give you space, whatever you need."
He took a step back, giving you a gentle nod as if to affirm his commitment to respecting your wishes. Though the weight of his unspoken feelings lingered, he understood the importance of honoring your request, his regret palpable in the ache of the unspoken words he left hanging in the air.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Rafe. I just - I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."
Rafe's features softened once more, a glint of understanding in his eyes as he absorbed your words. "I hear you," he replied softly, a tinge of regret lacing his voice. "Maybe I jumped the gun."
He took a step closer, a reassuring gesture without encroaching on your space. "I get it, Y/n. I don't want to complicate things for you," he acknowledged, a sense of empathy coloring his words. "I'll... figure it out."
There was a lingering sadness in his eyes, a realization that the depth of his feelings might have inadvertently disrupted the delicate balance. He offered a faint, understanding smile, silently conveying his acceptance of your decision while grappling with the weight of unspoken sentiments swirling within him.
Your heart ached at the sight of him, the turmoil of emotions swirling within you as you watched Rafe navigate the complexities of the moment. There was a pang of empathy mixed with a tinge of regret, knowing that his heartfelt confession had collided with a reality too intricate to unravel.
His genuine vulnerability struck a chord within you, the sincerity in his eyes a poignant reminder of the depth of his feelings. Despite the complexities, there was an undeniable longing in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.
Yet, amidst the ache, you held firm, knowing that conceding to the whirlwind of emotions might only deepen the intricate web you both found yourselves entangled in. The ache in your chest was a silent testament to the conflicting desires to both embrace and pull away from the vulnerability that lay bare between you.
With a gentle resolve in your voice, you offered a solution to diffuse the tension hanging in the air. "I'm going to go to bed. I'll sleep in the guest room if you'd like for me to," you softly stated, your gaze fixed on Rafe, awaiting his response.
Rafe met your gaze, a mix of gratitude and regret flickering in his eyes. "I appreciate that," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "But you don't have to do that. You can take my room; I'll take the guest."
There was a sense of mutual understanding in his response, a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken boundaries between you. As you turned to leave, a bittersweet atmosphere lingered, the weight of unresolved emotions hanging in the air, leaving both of you to navigate the uncharted territories of unspoken sentiments.
Your heart urged you to offer more, to say something that could alleviate the heaviness in the room, yet words eluded you. You wished to ease the ache in Rafe's eyes, to erase the tension that had woven its way between you both.
But the weight of the moment held you captive, words caught in the tangled threads of conflicting emotions. You longed to express understanding, to mend the rift caused by the unexpected turn of events, but the complexity of the situation left you grappling with the silence.
With a heavy sigh and a lingering gaze, you retreated, knowing that sometimes the silence spoke louder than any words you could muster, and hoping that time might offer a balm to heal the unspoken wounds that lingered between you and Rafe.
As you made your way to Rafe's room, guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders, each step a reminder of the tangled web of emotions you found yourself entwined in. The faint echo of your own footsteps seemed to resonate with the uncertainty that clouded your mind.
Slipping under the covers, the warmth of the room offered little comfort against the turmoil within. You couldn't shake off the guilt, a relentless companion that followed you into the darkness. The sheets felt colder than usual, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.
Lying there, your thoughts tangled in a maze of regret, you replayed the events of the evening, questioning the choices that led to this poignant moment. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.
Sleep remained elusive, your mind restless, grappling with the repercussions of your actions. The guilt lingered as a constant reminder of the complexities that now defined the fragile dynamics between you and Rafe.
As the night ebbed away, the soft hues of dawn painted the sky, signaling the arrival of a new day. You descended the stairs, a faint unease lingering from the events of the previous evening, unsure of what the morning would bring.
At the foot of the staircase, you were met with Rafe, his presence an unexpected yet anticipated encounter. There was an awkward tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unresolved emotions that hung between you both.
"Morning," Rafe greeted, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, the weight of the unspoken words from the night before lingering in the air.
"Morning," you replied softly, the air heavy with an unspoken understanding, a palpable sense of discomfort threading through the atmosphere.
There was an unspoken agreement to navigate the morning with cautious steps, each movement tinged with the residue of the unresolved emotions that lingered between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, leaving both of you searching for a semblance of normalcy in the midst of the palpable awkwardness.
"I'm gonna head back to the chateau in a few, JJ said he wants to talk to me," you mentioned, trying to break the palpable tension hanging in the air.
Rafe's laughter was dry, a strained sound that echoed in the room, a stark contrast to the ease that once defined your interactions. "Seems like he's got a lot to talk about these days," he remarked, a hint of bitterness seeping into his words.
You sensed the unease in his tone, a reflection of the awkwardness that enveloped the space between you. The weight of the unresolved emotions lingered, casting a shadow over the interaction, leaving the air heavy with unspoken sentiments.
The apology hung in the air, a quiet admission laden with the weight of remorse. "Rafe... I'm sorry, okay?" you uttered softly, the words an attempt to ease the strain that enveloped the space between you.
"Sure," Rafe replied, his tone notably drier, a touch of guardedness in his response. The weight of the situation lingered in the air, his words carrying a subtle hint of distance as he navigated the delicate balance between acceptance and reservation.
The conversation seemed to falter, leaving an uncomfortable silence that underscored the unspoken tension. Despite the attempt at reconciliation, there was a palpable hesitance in his demeanor, a reluctance to fully embrace the offered apology, adding another layer of complexity to the already strained atmosphere.
"I didn't say it because I don't care about you, Rafe," you asserted, hoping to clarify the sincerity behind your actions.
Rafe's response was more confrontational, his confusion apparent in his tone. "Then why?" he questioned, a hint of frustration seeping into his words. "It's just... it feels like nothing's adding up."
There was an edge to his demeanor, a palpable frustration stemming from the unresolved tension between you. The attempt at explanation seemed to only complicate matters further, leaving both of you grappling with the tangled web of emotions that refused to find resolution.
"Because I don't want you to get hurt," you explained, your voice soft yet firm, hoping to convey the underlying concern that had guided your actions.
Rafe's demeanor softened slightly, a flicker of surprise mingled with a trace of understanding in his expression. "Hurt?" he echoed, a hint of confusion still present but tempered by the sincerity in your words.
"Yeah," you continued, trying to articulate the protective instinct that fueled your choices. "Things are... complicated, and I didn't want to add to that."
There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an attempt to bridge the gap with honesty and concern, hoping to offer a glimpse into the complexities that had led to your decisions. The air, though still charged with tension, held a trace of empathy as you navigated the fragile balance between candor and reservation.
"Do you think I care if things are a little complicated, Y/n? My whole life has been complicated," Rafe responded, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and a hint of frustration, a glimpse into the complexities he had grown accustomed to.
His words held a weight, a testament to the tumultuous experiences that had shaped his life. Despite the tension, there was a raw honesty in his admission, revealing the layers of complexities that had become intrinsic to his existence.
"Yeah, but it's me, Rafe. I'm a Pogue from the Cut, do you really want that? Your family probably has this whole plan set out for you to end up with a Kook, anyways," you expressed, a tinge of vulnerability woven into your words. "This, I, am way too complicated for your lifestyle. That's more weight than you could bear."
Your words carried the weight of societal expectations and the stark contrast between your worlds. The lines drawn by society's standards seemed insurmountable, adding layers of complexity to an already intricate situation. You highlighted the disparity between your backgrounds, emphasizing the potential burden it might pose for Rafe, intertwining concern for his well-being with an understanding of the societal barriers dividing you.
"I don't care, Y/n. I don't care what they have to say because I care about you. Why can't you just accept that?" Rafe's voice carried a raw honesty, his words cutting through the barriers of societal expectations.
Your heart skipped a beat at his unwavering declaration. "Because it's not that simple, Rafe," you replied softly, your voice laced with a mix of emotions. "There's so much more at stake than just us. Just trust me on this. Please."
"Y/n, please just listen to me. It doesn't have to be this way. We can make it work, whatever I have to do, I'll do it," Rafe pleaded, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency and determination.
You met his earnest gaze, torn between the desire to believe in his words and the weight of the obstacles you both faced. "Rafe, it's not that simple," you murmured, the turmoil evident in your tone. "There are things beyond our control, things that won't just change because we want them to."
The ache in your chest mirrored the conflict in your mind, the yearning to embrace his offer battling against the harsh realities that seemed to impose barriers between you.
The scene unfolded before you, and you witnessed the subtle tremble in Rafe's lip, a poignant display of the emotions he struggled to contain. Sorrow etched into the depths of his eyes, a vulnerable expression that laid bare the depth of his feelings.
Your heart wrenched at the sight, a surge of empathy flooding through you as you recognized the pain reflected in his gaze. The weight of the situation bore heavily on him, and the turmoil within him was palpable, painting a picture of raw vulnerability and unspoken longing.
Despite the complexities that stood between you both, the silent plea in his eyes tugged at your own emotions, evoking a whirlwind of conflicting sentiments that left you grappling with the ache of shared sorrow and the unyielding barriers that seemed to divide you.
"I need you, Y/n," Rafe's voice was tinged with desperation, a raw plea that echoed in the room, laying bare the depth of his emotions.
"I've got to go, Rafe," you whispered, your voice laden with sorrow, each word a painful admission of the necessity to part ways despite the shared longing.
Walking out of Rafe's house, tears blurred your vision, emotions swirling within as you grappled with the weight of the encounter. As you stepped outside, your friend Kiara awaited in the car, a knowing look in her eyes that spoke volumes without a single word exchanged.
Kiara observed your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. Without needing to speak, she unlocked the car doors, a silent invitation for you to seek solace in the comfort of her presence.
With a heavy heart, you slid into the passenger seat beside Kiara, the warmth of her presence offering a sense of solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The unspoken understanding between friends enveloped the space, allowing for a moment of silent companionship amid the storm of feelings that surged within.
"I did what you guys asked me," you stated flatly, the weight of your actions hanging heavily in the air, your voice tinged with resignation.
Kiara glanced at you, her expression a mix of concern and apprehension, recognizing the strain in your voice. "Are you okay?" she inquired softly, her tone laced with a gentle concern, understanding the difficulty of the task you'd undertaken for the sake of your friends.
You remained silent for a moment, the weight of the recent events settling heavily on your shoulders. "I will be," you finally replied, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty, as if unsure of the aftermath of your actions and the impact they might have on the intricate balance of your relationships.
The journey to the chateau was enveloped in silence, a heavy curtain of unspoken thoughts that draped the car's interior. Each passing moment seemed to stretch in the weight of the quiet, the air thick with unexpressed emotions that lingered between you and Kiara.
You fought to hold back the tears, a silent war raging within, the ache in your chest a testament to the depth of the emotions that surged beneath the surface. The weight of recent events bore heavily on you, and the silent car ride provided a fleeting refuge where tears threatened to breach the dam of your composure.
Despite your efforts, a lone tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, a silent testament to the emotional storm that raged within. You discreetly wiped it away, hoping to shield your vulnerability, the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears weaving an intricate tapestry of inner turmoil.
The car rolled to a halt near the chateau's entrance, the engine's hum fading into the quiet ambiance of the estate. Kiara cast a glance your way, a wordless assurance conveyed through her eyes, a silent understanding that transcended the unspoken.
As you stepped out, the familiar sight of the chateau greeted you, its grandeur contrasting sharply with the weight of emotions carried within. The walk to the entrance felt longer than usual, each step echoing the turmoil within, the unspoken conversation hanging heavily between you and Kiara.
Approaching the door, the details of the chateau seemed to blur, your focus consumed by the emotional tempest raging within. With a deep breath, you turned the doorknob, the heavy wooden door creaking softly as it opened to welcome you inside.
Stepping into the foyer, the chateau enveloped you, the coolness of the air offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the emotional turmoil within.
As your friends turned to greet you, their expectant smiles faltered into a puzzled expression as they registered the turmoil etched on your face. Their eyes mirrored a blend of confusion and concern, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere that typically enveloped their gatherings.
A fleeting moment passed, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken as your friends exchanged glances, a silent communication that conveyed their awareness of the unspoken turmoil lingering beneath the surface. The chapter's end was marked by the unspoken tension, leaving an uncertain ambiance that hung between you, hinting at the complexities awaiting their reckoning.
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Pregnant sex with Grandmaster Bi-han👀? I whole heartedly believe he would be obsessed with the body carrying his heir, despite reader being self conscious of their changing body😏
He would be gentle physically, but he is still demanding and authoritative in his speech.
anon i love you. i could kiss you for this one. little deviation with the gentleness but still Bi Han.
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: pregnancy smut, Bi Han calls his wife slut/whore in his mind 18+ MDNI
No one would regard Bi Han as a calm person. He was known for his quite frigid exterior but his wife was the only one he was somewhat normal with. Currently, he was sitting in his bedside chair while his wife paced their bedroom floor. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong with her. At first, he thought it was the pregnancy stressing her out, after all, she was six months along. Her mini twists were pulled away from her face and she was dressed in a robe of Bi Han's signature color.
"Wife, perhaps you should calm down," He offered. The face she made in response told him that was the wrong thing to say.
"Calm down? You want me to calm down," She spoke with venom on her tongue. Bi Han wasn't quite sure what he did to piss her off but he was sure it was his fault.
"It's just hormones," Bi Han offers as he goes to touch her stomach.
"Hormones, he says. There is a baby, your baby, growing inside of me. I am tired all of the time, my boobs are swollen, none of my robes fit the way they used to, and you will not touch me. My husband will not touch me," Her voice broke on the last part as she was trying to stop tears from flowing down her brown cheeks.
"Y/N," Bi Han tried softly, this was new to him. Normally, if someone cried in front of him, he'd simply walk away or roll his eyes. That would not work in this case.
"Are you not attracted to me now? I should've known. All you care about is your precious heir," Y/N sniffled and moved away from her husband.
"Y/N, I have always been attracted to you. The only thing stopping me from completely ravaging you is our child growing in you, and I do not want to lose control," Y/N felt some relief in his words, but it still did nothing for the feeling of not being wanted. It did nothing for what felt like the constant heat that was growing inside of her.
"I care not for your control," Y/N said looking at her husband with teary eyes. She was horny in the worst way imaginable. Bi Han had not touched her since she was about two months along. She had tried everything to rid herself of this desire but her fingers could only do so much.
"I do not want to hurt you," Bi Han repeated slowly while wiping his face.
"You will not fuck your wife?" Y/N stated bluntly with a raised eyebrow.
"Fine, I will find someone who will," Y/N heads towards the door of their chambers before Bi Han grabs her wrist. He is careful not to hurt her but his grip is tight and she couldn't escape if she tried.
"You will do no such thing." He all but grunted out.
"You don't tell me-" Y/N began to speak but Bi Han yanked her closely. He took a second to deeply inhale, almost calming down, before speaking.
"If you think I'd let another man touch you while you are carrying my child, you do not know me well, wife," His eyes had glazed over with desire. How dare she? What kind of Grandmaster would he be to allow that?
"Bi Han?" Y/N spoke, looking into his eyes. She was not scared of what he would do to her, but rather what he would do to her pussy.
"Get on the bed since you want to be fucked so bad," He freed her from his grip and watched her stumble on the bed. She sat on the edge facing him. He walked over to her with heavy steps and stood between her legs.
"I am going to make this very clear, I think of fucking you every night," He said, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her passionately. His hand was on her jaw and her hands found their way to his hair. She undid his bun, allowing his dark waves to fall freely.
"Your breasts are swollen so that you will feed my child well," He said as he kneeled at the edge of the bed. He undid her robe and allowed it to fall under her. He stopped for a moment to take in his wife's beauty. She was right, her breasts had grown in size but that did not matter. She had gained stretchmarks but that did not matter. To Bi Han, she was more glorious than ever carrying his child. Mindful of his body temperature, he began to kneed Y/N's breast with one hand and put his mouth on the other. Y/N sighed with relief almost immediately.
"Maybe I have been a bit neglectful in my caution," Bi Han says once he notices the reaction he has garnered from Y/N just by the littlest of touches.
"A bit?" Y//N chuckles while looking at her husband.
"Lay back," Bi Han placed two pillows behind Y/N. One behind her head and another a little above her hips.
Bi Han kneeled once more and messily put his hair half up with one of the hair ties he stole from Y/N. He spread her legs, taking in how wet he made her with just sucking her tits. He almost felt bad for how long he had gone without doing this. It's too bad Y/N didn't know that Bi Han would leave bed every other night, just to stroke himself without disrupting her sleep.
He started with kisses on her inner thighs as he pulled her hips closer to his mouth. One finger ghosted her clit and Y/N's breath had hitched. She almost felt like a virgin again. His lips latched to her clit as two fingers began to coax an orgasm from her. Y/N's hands gripped the sheets as his tongue played with her clit and his fingers moved quicker and quicker.
"Bi Han," She moaned softly.
He chuckled at the praise as he continued his motions. He began to curl his fingers in her as he licked her clit. In all honesty, he was in heaven right now. Knowing that his wife could be completely subdued by his actions, was almost enough to get him off.
"Baby," Upon hearing the name, he knew that his wife was close. She rarely referred to him outside of his name. He continued his practices, careful to listen to her moans and whines over the sounds of him eating her pussy.
Y/N could feel her orgasm building but this one felt different. It felt like she was holding something back. When Bi Han's fingers hit her g-spot, she couldn't keep it any longer. She squirted onto Bi Han's fingers and mouth with a loud whine. Her chest heaved up and down as her hands finally released their grip on the sheets. One of her hands rested on her stomach.
"I will admit, I have missed that," Bi Han said shedding his pajama pants, allowing for his dick to spring free. He removed his shirt soon after revealing a dark happy trail. His dick slapped his thigh as it bounced while he stood to be at his wife's entrance. There was a prominent vein that ran on the underside, and his mushroom head was a pale shade of pink.
"Y/N, you will tell me if you are in discomfort," He said while lining his tip with her pussy. It took all of his discipline not to rush in, but it had been some time since his wife had taken him last. Y/N simply nodded, finally excited she was getting what she had been craving.
Slowly, inch by inch, he entered her pussy. He had missed the comforting warmth as her wetness dripped onto their sheets. Y/N's back had arched off of the bed when Bi Han had entered her fully. He gave her a minute to adjust to him stretching her walls.
"Fuck me, please," She hadn't needed to ask twice before something in Bi Han snapped. He withdrew his hips from hers before slamming back into hers harshly.
Y/N's legs rested on his shoulders as he drilled into her. Y/N couldn't fathom why she hadn't threatened to sleep with someone else sooner. The stinging from his hips hitting her ass would be felt in the morning, but right now it felt divine. Bi Han watched his wife's face contort with every stroke and smirked, knowing only he could make her feel like that.
Bi Han was not relenting in his strokes either. Since his wife wanted to be fucked, he'd fuck her like the slut that she was. Right now, she was not his wife, but just some whore who is carrying his child. He refused to finish before her but it was getting harder with how her pussy was gripping him. Each stroke became more and more difficult as Y/N got closer to cumming.
With one final exasperated moan, Y/N came once more. Her legs felt like jello and Bi Han's hips stuttered as he finished too. He filled her with his warm cum once again. He pulled out and watched it dribble out of her pussy just a little bit.
"Do you feel better wife?" Bi Han asked grabbing his wife's chin so that he could look her in the eye.
"Mhm," Y/N responded with a small smile. Her eyes had glazed over and she was in bliss from her orgasm.
Bi Han grabbed a few extra blankets from their closet and situated the bed so they could fall asleep. He knew that Y/N was always sleepy after sex, mainly because he was sure to wear her out. Y/N fell asleep on her side, and Bi Han spooned her as the couple fell into a somewhat normal state. After this night, Bi Han was sure to fuck Y/N regularly so that she would no longer complain because a happy wife, is a happy life.
#x black!reader#black!reader#x black reader#black reader#bi han smut#mk bi han#mk sub zero#sub zero mk1#mk 1#bi han x reader#bi han#c-nstantine
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For That Long? || Aragorn
Summary: Request -Hello! 👋 Your work is absolutely amazing! Especially your Aragorn fics (My King! 🗡️👑❤️) In fact, whenever works best for you, here’s an idea: During the victory celebration at Helm’s Deep, the reader (also a Dunedain Ranger) offers a quick dance lesson for Aragorn to a) enjoy the celebration with him and.... Read Rest Here
A/N: Thank you for the sweetest little request anon! I had too much fun writing this one. I love trying to get into his head. Keep sending amazing requests my way! And thank you for you kind comments!
Pairing: Aragorn x Reader
Word Count: 3.5k +
TW: fluff?
“Not like that, Strider.” You giggled something fierce as he tripped over his own feet for the umpteenth time that night. Somehow you had convinced him to dance with you after quite literally decades of trying to get him as your partner.
“Have I not already told you how hopeless this is, Callia?” He asked you by your chosen Ranger name. You had to abandon Y/N when you left home all those years ago. If you were captured you must never give up your true name for your family could bear danger to your chosen work.
“You just need to relax yourself. Your mind.” You poked his forehead while grinning from ear to ear.
He sighed, “I cannot keep making a fool of myself in front of…”
You stopped him by placing his hand on your hip catching him most off guard, “My King overthinks.” You whispered as you took a soft step towards him. He smelled good. Like of the woody scent he naturally had but even better.
“I am no King.”
You smiled more to yourself than him, “Not yet. But the people have decided. It be but a mere month and you shall be.”
“It does not feel right hearing you call me that, my lady.” He countered while raising his eyebrows right up waiting for your retaliation.
Trying your best, but failing, you made a face in reaction, “You know I am hardly a lady.”
He hummed. Not even realizing you had begun to lead him you kept talking trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him. For if there was anybody who knew Strider better than himself it was you. Time had a way of making your heart the softest for him and truly only him. Countless sleepless nights of diving into your worst nightmares and trauma would find a way to bond the two seemingly hopeless souls.
“The opposite is true.” He smiled down at you with a look you had rarely seen from the hardened leader. You had been away from him longer than you wished. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith after getting orders from Gandalf to help the Hobbits of the Shire. You had heard the story of the great Bilbo Baggins and now apparently Strider had to accompany his nephew, Frodo. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith and wait for his word.
That had been six months ago. You had gotten used to life without him how odd it may seem. You had made a few friends that you probably never would have had Strider joined you. It was terribly uncomfortable. Your simple life changed when you had gotten word from him asking you to join him in Rohan. He knew something was coming and needed all the help he could get.
“A lady does not count her kills.” You spoke breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. A shift occurred as he had taken control of the dancing now. Your easy banter all but freeing his mind from his thoughts. Dancing wasn’t so bad. Especially if he got to hold you like this.
“By your definition.” He smirked down but dared not look into your eyes for he knew he would cave to any of your demands, “Not by mine. And did you not say I was to be King?”
You fought every urge in you not to pinch his side, “You are impossible.”
“Do you not refute, my lady?” His smirk only grew as he noticed your face fighting the urge to react. It was amusing watching you try and stay neutral. For he had missed this. Sure, it was not only the two of you dancing but it had felt like it. You had a way of taking his mind off of whatever he needed. You had always seemed to have known what he may have needed.
“It is no use in arguing with you, Aragorn.” You gave him the eye letting him know you were not over the little secret he had kept from you for so long. You had only found out of the name when Legolas shouted it on the battlefield almost costing you your life. It had left you stunned. Who was Aragorn and why had Strider reacted as if it was his name.
Because it was. He had apologized profusely before you finally gave in. Leading you to this moment with him. You had finally convinced him he needed to learn how to properly dance since he was to be the king. And lucky for him you so happened to know many dances as your mother had insisted a girl your age to learn them all those years ago in Dúnedain.
An amused smile crossed his features as he led you across the dance floor. Maybe he was not so pathetic after all, “It is not like you, Callia, to bite your tongue.”
“Hush you.” A laugh escaped you. It was no use trying to hide your own amusement. Yes, he pushed you, but it had also shown you how much he too cared for you.
He slowly stopped the two of you from your dance before replying, “You are most fortunate the music has ended."
A quick nod left you head as it spun out of control by his soft touch and daring words, “Most fortunate indeed.” Begrudgingly you took a step back knowing the moment between the two of you had ended.
But his words had stopped you from turning all the way around, “I will stop teasing you if you lead me in another dance. For I must learn. I do not wish to embarrass you.”
You only grinned before stepping back into his hands, “You could never embarrass me Strider.”
Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you took in the breathtaking room before you. Stifling a laugh, you couldn’t truly believe you had made it here with him, alive and in one piece. Your truest and oldest friend crowned the King of Gondor. How you would never have believed this only three years prior. You watched as royalty and common people alike danced with joy and glee for their newfound leader. Aragorn. It felt the most surreal as you watched him mingle with people that mattered. A King. Who would’ve thought. Glancing down at your nearly empty glass you sighed knowing you had to make the walk back to get another drink.
But you never made it as you were intercepted by nonother the man you were watching far too often that night, “Strider!” You smiled trying to play it off as nothing as his broad hands covered the length of your forearm with ease, “You best get dancing. You have many eyes on you, my King.” You grinned with ease knowing calling him such made him uncomfortable. You truly had known him as Strider for as long as you could remember. You’d met as teenagers in your youth, kids from Dúnedain.
Your fathers were friends keeping you close together often until he went off on his own. When it came time to leave you had heard Strider was a Ranger. Having a feeling you’d run into him again you weren’t surprised you were assigned to his company not long after you left home to find a purpose. Just like him. In a lot of ways, you were the same. But in so many different.
For the last sixty or so years the two of you became something of a menace in the North. Something to be feared. Always working as a team, the two of you always seemed to come out of battles unscathed.
He grumbled in response to the title name you had used on him, “I have told you not to call me that. It does not feel right hearing those words from you. Strider will do.”
You smiled seeing how you managed to get under his skin with such ease, “Strider is too informal. May I call you Aragorn at least?”
“I think Strider is perfectly formal. But you may call me as you see fit. So long as it is not, my King.” He smiled right back at you. Even he had to admit how nice it was seeing you so at ease. He had roamed the North for nearly sixty years with you. He had never seen you so relaxed. He was sure he had seen you smiling more tonight than he had in the past sixty combined. You smiled like that bright eyed teenager who had an obvious crush on the older teen. It was times like these that made him wish he had told you how he had felt the same. He had longed for you for so long in silence. He had a duty to uphold. But now? Time was different. He needed somebody on his side. He had always known that somebody was you.
You bowed just knowing it would push his nerves further, “As my King wishes, I shall only refer to him as Aragorn.”
His mouth dropped at your brazenness, but he should have known better. He was convinced you were placed with him was to keep hm grounded. You had a certain way about you that had him acting his very best, “Y/N.” He let out an audible sigh letting you know he was annoyed.
“Strider.” You raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him knowing that name was now obsolete in your vocabulary. He was Aragorn now. You could get used to it.
He looked to the dance floor before turning back to you, “Would you join me in a dance?” He held his hand out for you to take giving you your favorite impatient face. It was your favorite thing to do after all, push his buttons.
Your smirk turned up into a genuine smile, “This is a pleasant change. I would be honored to join you in a dance, Aragorn.”
“Are you going to choose a name Callia?” He grumbled as you placed your hand in his. His smile never faltered even though he pretended to be most annoyed by you. It wasn’t lost on your how gently he wrapped his hand around yours before nodding his head to the nearly empty ballroom floor.
You giggled more to yourself knowing how annoyed he was with you. Maybe you should stop winding him up. It was almost too much fun to stop though, “Am I not allowed to interchange two of your many names?” You followed along his lead down to the center of the empty floor.
He stopped once he had found a place good enough. Placed one hand over your hip and one behind your back, “Hands on my shoulders.” His voice dropped nearly an octave as he gave you a simple order. A shiver ran down your side at his touch. This was new for you as well. Sure, you had found him ever so attractive, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in you. Everything was platonic as could be between the two of you. So, you had backed off and kept it cool knowing nothing was ever going to happen.
You did as he wished and wrapped your hands around his neck, far more intimate than you had intended but you were committed now. It would be almost more embarrassing to unwrap yourself from him, “You did not answer my question.” You spoke trying to rid your mind of overthinking this situation you had seemed to find yourself in.
He gave you a grin as his eyes trailed all over your face, “I was only playing with you. You may call me as you please.”
Before you could answer the music started forcing your concentration of following his lead. It was impressive how quickly he had picked up on the steps of the dances you had only taught him only a few times a month ago. It had been a little over a month after the Celebration of Helm’s Deep after the hell that was the battle.
You were almost upset when the music had stopped knowing his hands would soon leave you. It was not right to have these feelings for such a longtime friend. Let alone the King of Gondor. But how could you not? He was Strider the great Ranger of the North. He was Aragorn the leader of the Fellowship. He was the King of Gondor. He was everything.
Fortunate for you he hadn’t move his hands from your waist even as the music stopped, “I do think I should call you Aragorn. It suits your stature. You have outgrown Strider.”
He bowed his head before slowly bringing his eyes up to yours, “Then Aragorn I shall be, my lady.” He was smirking now knowing how much you too loathed the high title he had seemed to start calling you.
With a frustrated breath your eyes narrowed at his, “If you shall call me my lady, then I will call you my King.” You too didn’t enjoy how the high title rolled off his lips. You were anything but a lady even in the dress you protested but had been convinced of.
He let out a breathy chuckle as he finally came back to his senses and let his hands go of your waist. You feared to admit how much you had enjoyed his touch and closeness, “I suppose that is fair, Callia.”
Stepping forward to straighten his collar you could only smile up at him in adoration, “You look very handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”
He took your hand in his once more, “It took a fair bit of work. But I must say, it is you who shines the brightest tonight.”
He had never complimented you so forthright before it drew a small gasp out of your very own mouth, “You are most kind to me. Thank you Aragorn.” You were suddenly thankful you had put some makeup on. You were praying it was covering up the sure-fire pink tint that was bound to be covering your cheeks.
He watched as you turned away from him, “You must get back to your advisor. He looks very weary over in the corner.” You tried a good excuse to walk away from him. He was suddenly becoming too much even for you.
“Wait,” You stopped and turned back to him with that subtle blush coating your face. When you stopped he continued, “Come take a walk with me. I wish to talk with just you.” His darting eyes let you know people were listening, always listening in now that he had such a high title.
“As you wish.” You followed him as he left the hall as discretely as he could.
The two of you had made it all the way to the gardens before he had spoken once more, “I want to thank you, Y/N.” By speaking your true born name, you knew this was serious. There was no playfulness of my lady or the knowing name of Callie. Y/N.
You had no clue where this was coming from. Truly, you rattled your mind for further thoughts before you gave in, “Whatever for?”
He smiled as he led you down the path of roses he had grown fond of in his short time here, “For always being there for me. You have shown up for me time and time yet again.” He paused taking your hand in his before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Had he no idea what he was doing to you?
“You are my truest friend.” You answered honestly after a few long moments of trying your hardest not to cave into whatever was taking over your mind. He was your friend! Only a friend. That is all he had ever wanted. He was simply thanking you for the journey. That was all. One chapter of your lives had closed and the next was to begin. You had to wonder where you would end up. In the capital being a guard? Roaming the woodland realms for danger? Head home and care for your aging parents? The choices were endless for your new life.
He let out a short laugh, “For that you are. May I tell you something?”
“Anything.” The response was so automatic it almost took you by surprise.
“If not for you, I would not be here.” He spoke quickly.
It took you much longer to process those words, “What do you mean?”
“If I had not known you would always be there I would not be king.” He smiled as his eyes traced your nervous face. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever known. How had he gotten so lucky with you? And by any other stroke of luck, you would accept his next question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.
“I am not sure what you mean Aragorn.” Your heart rate sped up just a tad as he stepped back from you. He fished something out of his robe pocked. Your eyes went wide as he held an old relic. A beautiful ring covered in gemstones.
“You have always been there for me Y/N. I fear nobody could ever take that place. I wish nobody to take that place. For I am the happiest when I am with you. Those last six months have not been good for me. But now that I am back with you I feel whole once again. There is no lady that could take your place Y/N. For your place is next to me.” The last words to come out of his mouth almost came out as a whisper for even he was nervous. The mighty King of Gondor afraid of some feelings he had almost his entire life. Oh, how his father would be laughing now.
Your heart rate kicked it up another notch. It felt like you had been training it was racing so fast, “Forgive me, I fear I am not enough…”
He stopped you this time though by placing a gentle finger on your lips, “I wish to not hear you speak poorly of yourself. For I do not respect those words. I will never believe them. I do know your entirely Y/N. Please, do me the honor of letting me court you.”
Your breath had been taken from you now, “You like me?” You had managed to get out feeling oddly faint.
“I love you.” He said so effortlessly you weren’t sure you had him quite right.
Your eyes turned up to his as he stepped closer to you, “You love me?”
A quick nod came from his head as his eyes bore right into yours, “I do.”
“I love you, too.” You spoke back before you could let your thoughts get the better of you.
His hands moved to your cheeks as he held you in his own, “For nearly seventy years I have yearned to hear those words from your lips.”
“For that long?” You asked in bewilderment to his statement. How had he kept it from you with such ease? It amazed you he had managed to be so stoic when you had been so obvious. Why had he fought it for so long?
He did what you least expected and bowed down to you, slowly. He had made sure you knew his intention, “I may not have always been wise to it but indeed. I have always loved you.”
You nodded quickly, your smile beaming brighter than ever before. He was sure that was his new favorite look on you, “Yea.”
“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.
“I accept. I would be honored to stand by your side Aragorn.” Before you could bow to him he caught your chin in his hand shaking his hand to let you know that would be most unnecessary.
“You are doing me the honor.” He fastened the necklace with the ring on your neck tucking it underneath the top of your dress. His hands trailed down your sides resting on your hip for longer than he should have. He needed to take a step back or he would kiss you. Not that you wouldn’t let him, no. He was sure you would be more than happy about it. He simply wanted to charm you before he kissed you. He would not rush into this with you. For he had taken nearly seventy years to admit how he had felt. What was a little longer?
“You made it, Strider. You did it.” You brushed his wavy hair away from his face knowing that would be the last time you referred to him as such. From here forth he would be Aragorn. And you would wed him. How a life you dreamed of had come to fruition was beyond you.
He shook his head grabbing at your hands once more, “We made it. We did it.” He spoke of all the wishes the two of you spoke about in your many long nights. The dreams had seemed to come truer than either of you could have imagined. It almost didn’t feel real.
You nodded with nothing but love in your eyes, “Indeed, we did it.”
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caught in waves | ksj
kim seokjin x reader (f)
genre: chef & bmx ksj | strangers to lovers | fluff | smut
rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)
summary: after graduating culinary school you are fired from your very first job as a sous chef — so you move to a small town for the summer only to meet the very cute nephew of the restaurant and airbnb owner.
warnings: not another smut au; strangers to lovers; thoughts of self doubt; brief mention of death beginning with the line “sleeping forever would mean.” to the end of that paragraph; parental death (jin’s unnamed mother); foul language; public sex (twice - cause wtf is a bed); clitorial stimulation; vaginal fingering; tongue fucking; six nine (m./f. receiving); face riding; penetrative sex; unprotected sex, wrap it up my brothas and sistas; creampie; riding (cowgirl); brief orgasm denial if you squint; did not proof read so sorry for any errors now; that was a mouth full but i think thats it lol
word count: 13.1 thousand words
posted: june 25, 2023 at 9am
notable songs: tangerine - anthony watts and anthony russo | otro atardecer - bad bunny | summer love - crush | seaside - seb 🎧
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The bus was nearly empty.
Just you and two strangers with two remaining stops on the lined route. From your place at the back of the vehicle life seemed to have stopped and you were sort of trapped in the legato vibrato of the RnB beats playing in your ears. But you were here alone with rows of vacant seats ahead of you — while your eyes aimed at the everlasting fields of green pasture filled with an abundance of trees. The vermilion leaves swayed to the rhythm of the wind as the cool draft swept by gently.
And while you sat inside the muggy bus you couldn’t help but feel like those leaves who have lost their way from home. The ones who we ripped away from their branches and were on an aimless journey only to end up on the ground. All but forgotten and only to be stepped on and torn to shred in the process.
That was you. In a stump, torn and forgotten.
You didn’t always hold that ideal synonymous with your name but the sparse roots in the. . circumstances of life were less than perfect and while you tried to drive down the highway of your early twenties on a steady road there were just numerous obstacles hurdled in your path. Some of which affected your life greatly and derailed you from what you believed to be intended and bestowed upon you.
Back then, you were twenty-one just fresh off culinary school with zealous ambitions and a hunger for success that gnawed at you eagerly. You had a drive ignited in you like an overbearing fire incapable of being put out. Today, that fire lacked its fuel and there were just clouds of smoke left behind while the ashes of the once burning wood were scattered around.
Everything in your life has gone to shit.
In just the matter of months everything has gone to absolute shit.
You couldn’t hear much, so you weren’t alerted to the mechanical voice triggered by the yellow pull cord. You weren’t quite sure if it was due to the music blanketing your hearing or if your sense had gone completely haywire but you couldn’t hear it. Not at all. Your eyes however could see the rectangular screen displaying the ‘stop now’ bold red letters at the front of the bus and as soon as the doors opened. The doors of the bus door opened and closed and quickly the two other passengers on the bus hopped off leaving you entirely alone. This precise moment; these surroundings, took you right back to the big city and its maze-like roads. It sent you right back to the exact time when you felt like this, entirely desolate and empty in all the worst ways possible.
You hated it. It was suffocating and you could feel the way your airways began to constrict. You didn’t like that feeling — being alone. Yet, it always crept up on you like a lingering shadow.
It was always fucking there.
It wasn’t always that way. Before your sporadic travels to the isolated roads adorned by thousands of skyscrapers — back at home things were different: you had a loving family, and you were wrapped up in the warm embrace of your parents and siblings. A hug so tight sometimes you could still feel their phantom body heat warming up your skin. Their touch was your medicine and with their clutch you were cradled right into a cure for wellness.
While you craved the warm nature of their love. You couldn’t head back home. Not after descending so harshly from the disappointment of your crushed dreams. You had pierced through earth’s stratosphere and crashed your metaphorical ship right in the middle of nowhere.
You were astray. Off-course. Adrift.
You couldn’t head back home.
It’s only been six months since you left home.
Just half a year. And everything went to shit.
Though you knew your parents weren’t usually the type to be painted with looks of disappointment — you knew that right below disappointment sat a worse expression, one you weren’t quite ready to experience just yet: commiseration. The awful and dreadful imbue of pity.
Their youngest had failed. Miserably. You could already see their torn expressions dashed in the horrid tones of black and white, maybe even a bit of gray. It was bad enough in the flashes of your imagination.
God, no. You couldn’t head back home.
Instead you ran as far away from home as you could and headed towards a small town. It was nearly invisible on the map unless under the stern squinting of the eye. But you figured a scenic change would likely bring forth a change of spirits. Perhaps, being enveloped in the vibration of the soft melody coming from the crashing of the oceans waves and the aroma of the tide in this new town could become your new remedy for the soul.
As you neared the houses toned with aquamarine, salmon pink, and citrus yellow wood sidings the bus began braking softly nearing its final stop.
“This is the end of the road young lady,” the bus driver announced as you peeled your headphones off, placing them around your neck.
“Yes. Sorry,” you quickly stood up, clinging your backpack onto your back and hurdling the duffel bag over your right shoulder causing one of the straps to snap. Great. You sighed, “thank you so much.”
“No need to apologize,” he waved off as soon as you stepped off onto the asphalt, “enjoy your stay.”
Using the navigation on your phone turned out to be much more complicated than you’d originally thought it would be. There were countless seafood shops and though the repetition of the color on the houses was initially very appealing to the eyes you quickly realized how much harder it made it to differentiate and determine your precise location.
Okay, currently, you stopped in front of the ice cream shop. To the right there was the souvenir store, the convenience store and the flower shop, along with dozens of other stores scattered all around — all of them sat parallel to the boardwalk right near the beach shore right across the street.
Kim’s Aboard. You hummed looking down at the opened up map. The blue dot was highlighted. . Still. So you were at your destination according to this, except, you were not. This was way harder than navigating your way through the big city for the first time all of those months prior. Who would’ve thought small towns would be the cherry right on top of your greatest failures. Just what you needed. What the fuck.
Sitting on the curb you felt defeated. Feeling as if life had taken control of your life while you were the punching bag just waiting for another jab.
“Fuck this,” you shrugged off the duffel bag, sinking your head into your lap, “fuck life. Fuck it all.”
Minutes passed on but you remained. There. On that lonely sidewalk. Not empty but again lonely. Fuck, you didn’t care okay? You were well past the point of feeling fazed, moving through life but not living, finally succumbing to the presumed complications of your days — officially, having given up mentally and physically through and through.
You simply did not care. Nope.
You didn’t. .
Then, you felt a single droplet land on your skin. From overhead the sky was being consumed by the gloomy darkness, and soon enough you knew the clouds would begin their torrential weeping. Very soon.
Okay. Maybe you did care after all.
“I get it,” you hissed up at the heavens, “I am damned. Doomed. Cursed. I get it.”
You probably looked mad. Well, more on the edge of insane. Whatever, it was. It likely did not look good at all.
“Uh,” he approached you in paced steps but the squeaking of his black finishing boots gave him away. Initially, your eyes were averted to the leaden clouds, but quickly, your eyes met him as he kneeled right beside you. The simplicity of his appearance (composed of dark denim washed overalls and absolutely nothing under — but the radiance of his honeyed complexion) drew you nearer to him. “Are you doing okay, miss?”
His voice was sweeter than the composition of ballads and while the crashing of the ocean waves against the shore constituted its very own euphonious sonnet, in the shortness of six words listening to him was already so much better — so pleasing.
“I-uh,” surely you remember how to talk. . Right? “I was just looking for the apartment I’ll be staying at for the next few days but I’m a bit lost.”
“Here,” he sat beside you and his shoulder brushed yours continuously. It was distracting. Very distracting, “The trick is the town is circular shaped. Sort of like a big round about. There’s one road throughout and if you follow it through, you’ll see everything you need to see.”
You hummed, signaling you understood his breakdown in small towns for dummies, “So, are all of the stores on this main road?”
“Most,” he said, adjusting his blue cap now having it face backwards. His toned bicep flexed slightly when he reached up, “but there are some down the road. What store are you trying to find?”
When you turned towards him you swore there was a glimmer of light shining down on him like a spotlight — except, that was impossible. The day was now gloomy robbing the sun of its usual glimmer. But, you weren’t crazy. You’re living it, clearly experiencing the way his radiant glow nearly blinds you.
You were clearly gawking at him. Too immersed in the perfection outlined in his features. The richness of his dark chocolate eyes seemed as sweet as a candy bar, his full lips and the apples of his cheeks carried the same elements of the carmine mimicking the vibrancy of roses.
You cleared your throat forcing yourself to finally rip your stare away from him, “Kim’s Abroad,” you began, “seafood store and restaurant combo but also Airbnb adjacent.”
He chuckled, again a sound so light and airy it traveled in your inner ear like the whistles of a peaceful tune, “Kim, huh?”
You opened the Airbnb app, moving the phone over for him to get a better look, “Yeah, Kim is what it says,” you confirmed,
“Yeah, it does,” he looked at your phone screen, “but you’re in the wrong place.”
“I’m in the wrong town?”
His lips were still sculpted into a smile. Was your demise an amusement to him? You were almost offended but dimples were just so mesmerizing as they impaled his bread cheeks and you found some ease in them. Momentarily. But the man sitting beside didn’t go back on his word and suddenly there was no denying the rising panic bubbling deep in your stomach. There was no question that your luck has always been absolute shit but you never imagined it could extend this far. It never occurred to you that something like this could happen.
You laughed and you weren’t sure if you actually found the situation amusing or if it was only a coping mechanism. Who knows perhaps you misheard what he said — Yeah, you probably. . Definitely, did, “please tell me you’re fucking with me. .”
“Yeah, I’m fucking with you,” he smirked. The curves of his stretched lips now synonymous with the equivalent of a warm embrace yet the playfulness of a jest, “I’m Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Kim’s Abroad is my uncle’s shop.”
“Oh,” you finally exhaled, releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in the first place, “you got me good.”
“Did I scare you?” He stood from the sidewalk and dusted off the bits of sand and gravel from his bottom.
“Did you scare me?” you huffed, “you damn near killed me.”
“Well, technically, you are in the wrong place,” he stretched his hand out for you to grab and you did.
“Don’t even start,” you scoffed playfully.
“But—“ he cut in, “you’re just on the wrong part of town. Come on. Before it actually starts raining.”
“You have a car?”
He shrugged, “something like that.”
Seokjin did not have a car. You’d digested the grim realization when you two of you walked to the nearby parking lot and instead of approaching the valet he walked the opposite way in the direction of the bicycle rack.
The bike chained to the rack was blue. . a sapphire which mimicked the color of the ocean waves. It also looked pretty new and like a very competent mode of transportation as everything in this town seemed just a walk or quick ride away.
“Hope you don’t mind but I’m not much of a car person,” he emphasized the word car highlighting the stance of his words. And you couldn’t help but wonder why it was — that he wasn’t much of a car person — but you didn’t ask, shoving the plethora of questions right back down your esophagus determining you didn’t need to know. You didn’t know him. . Besides, he was practically your landlord.
“Of course,” you smiled, tightening the straps on your bag to get it to sit higher on your back, “should I put this here?” you slid your duffel bag off and pointed at the red wagon attached to the bike.
“Let me help,” Seokjin was toned and built as fuck. You had not really noticed when he approached you ten minutes prior, but now? Now, he was kneeling right in front of you using a variation of ropes to secure your bag in the wooden attachment. And while you hadn’t meant to stare you couldn’t resist the urge to drink in every detail of his every move.
It was truly like observing an artwork in some museum. . except you had to keep reminding yourself that he was real — This was real. His muscles flexed whenever he tugged on the rope to verify its tightness and his fingers worked diligently to produce an effective knot. His long long fingers.
Your mind couldn’t help but wonder which other activities he indulged in containing those slender digits of his.
No.
No.
Focus on yourself; focus on your own journey. You shook your head in an attempt to push those beguiling thoughts aside.
“Ready?” he asked, straddling the bike and signaling you to hop on the pegs. You simply nodded hoping on, placing your palms on his broad shoulders for support. The contact felt as if his skin had been ignited with tiny strings of fire — kind of like you hovering your palms over a burner on the stove.
It was distracting; the way the heat particles traveled past the layers of your skin warming you to the touch.
It was so fucking distracting the way your touch felt at ease against him.
“This is a very small town but we have a lot to offer,” Seokjin peddled down the street — already sounding mildly out of breath having to carry both your weights.
Your eyes settled on your surroundings; the road ahead, “I can see that. We have the beach on our left and a cozy vintage town to our right. Believe me, it is all I truly need at this very moment.”
“What are you trying to escape from reality?”
“More like—“ as the bike moved deeper into town and against the late afternoon wind you felt a wave of relief in your sweaty scalp and forehead, “I’m trying to get away from it forever.”
He chuckled, “forever’s a long time.”
“Forever is categorized differently for each person,” you shrugged, “my forever could end tomorrow whereas yours could run its course for an abundance of years.”
“I suppose you’re right. .” he said, “but tomorrow is also forever away.”
“Tomorrow is forever away.” you repeated.
Within the cold avenues of the buzzling city tomorrow would be a blink away — sparing all extra hours, minutes and seconds right into oblivion. Tomorrow would arrive in the blink of an eye and twenty four hours would perish right into nothing. However, this town seemed different. An hour here has felt like a wrinkle in time and you were comfortably tucked under that luxury of time.
Sparing time to stop and take everything in and time to breathe. You were spared all of the time in the world to breathe. Finally.
Back in the city your life had been sort of a blur. The foundation of your days were composed of half assed obligations. Such as getting up to the boisterous roars of the city (which you hated), getting dressed in clothes you hated all to keep up appearances (which you hated), attending classes in an attempt to perfect your culinary skills (which you hated) and then finally going to work at that fucking restaurant until the late hours of the evening (which you guessed it — you fucking hated). There was nothing to look back on and long for and certainly nothing that you missed as everything you ever dedicated a spec of your time and energy to never truly made you happy.
There was always a vast hole in your heart. It was huge and it only ever grew in width and no efforts ever minimized its size. The pain was great and all you could ever do was endure.
The ride so far had been quiet and you found peace in that. It gave you a bit of time to swim in your own thoughts for a bit — something you haven’t done in quite some time. Perhaps, substituting the rustling tracks of the subway and the constant beeping of car horns for the songs of the sea would do you some good. It already kind of was.
“You doing okay up there?” he asked, continuing to peddle his way down the black paved road.
“I’m doing okay,” you reassured him.
“I figured you’d just been taking everything in,” he said, “you’ve been a bit quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely admiring and loving the scarcity of skyscrapers. I like the build of the ranch-style homes. It gives the curb appeal sort of like a homey feel,” your eyes remain glued to your surroundings. While Seokjin was a sight on his own this town — you were beginning to fall in love with.
“I agree. It’s the primary reason why I’ve yet to leave,” he parked his bike on the bike rack right in front of the two-story building. The sign read, ‘Kim’s Abroad’ in big red letters engraved in a baby blue outline against the white exterior. “We have arrived.”
“Seafood restaurant and market,” you mumbled reading the tiny black font displayed right below the vibrant sign.
“All things seafood restaurant and market,” he repeated, getting a hold of your luggage from his wagon, “we are connoisseurs. Don’t you forget that.”
You giggled, “Kim Seokjin the seafood connoisseur. Noted.”
Kim’s Abroad sat on the other side of town. Just a couple of steps away from the blue waves of the ocean crashing against the golden shores. Approximately, a ten minute bike ride away from the main pier. This side of town seemed like a hidden gem, like a slice of privacy for the locals. Though the sidewalks remained occupied with on-goers, it wasn’t as congested or loud as where you began your journey earlier that afternoon.
Up above the weather seemed to settle down as the nimbostratus clouds were being swept away by lighter; fluffier; whiter clouds highlighting the cerulean hue of the late summer afternoon. The sun also seeped through and already your skin prickled with the rising heat.
“Let me help with that,” you reached out to grab your backpack.
“Help?” his eyes wide with shock, “you’re our first guest to offer assistance with their own luggage. I like you.”
“I’ll wear the stamp of approval proudly.”
Walking into the restaurant was like entering the multiverse of culinary delicacy. The aroma of the various seafood dishes had your stomach grumbling as hunger began its loud roar. The set-up didn’t allow much space for dining in which explained the small tables and chairs lined up outside. Seokjin walked right up to the counter with a sign right above the register which read, order here. To the right of that there was a display with numerous varieties of fish, shrimp, clams, oysters, lobsters with small chalkboards identifying the prices per pound.
The interior design of the small shop was fairly simple yet very charming. There were wall decor items hung on the white walls in the shape of different sea creatures and fishing nets drapped from the ceiling.
Seokjin signaled you over to join him by the register, which you did.
“Our summer neighbor has finally joined us. She’ll be staying for the summer.” he turned towards you. Quickly, you nodded confirming.
“Hi, I’m Seokjin’s uncle, Gong. Nice to meet you,” he stretched his hand out over the counter which you quickly shook. Gong wore a tender eye smile and pearly white teeth that glimmered under the sneaky rays of the sun invading the shop. You introduced yourself hoping to reciprocate the same amiability.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” you added, “I’m really looking forward to spending the summer.”
“We’re glad to have you give our little town a chance,” he said softly, “Seokjin, why don’t you show her where she’ll be staying. Then, you can come down and grab some food for the two of you.”
The residential area was deeper into the property. Just a couple of feet behind, Kim’s Abroad. You’d notice there was a continuation of the color white — it was neutral. But also made the small living space seem a bit bland. Colorless walls encaged a small kitchen which led right into the living room. There were two medium sized oval windows facing the ocean. A view you knew you’d spend a lot of time admiring and never getting tired of.
Seokjin signaled over to the wooden door separating the bedroom from the living space. The bedroom was huge compared to your dorm back in University, and it was accompanied by an on suite bathroom.
Thank God.
If there was something you hated while in school it was the fucking communal bathrooms. The working around schedules to avoid the crowded showers, having to do your. . . Well having to take a shit (practically in public) was less than ideal and having to share bathrooms amongst ten other girls was not the most hygienic living situation you’ve had to live through.
After dropping your bags near the bedroom door you plopped down on the full sized bed. You closed your eyes as tiredness weighed heavy on your eyelids.
With the fluffiness of the mattress carrying your body, you sensed the way every bone, every muscle and every inch of you became cumbersome against your better judgment. Though you tried and tried to sit up you couldn’t. It was so fucking impossible. . As if there was a ton sitting on your abdomen preventing you from doing anything.
You were exhausted. Numb to your surroundings and your thoughts. You had honestly forgotten Seokjin was still in the room with you — that was until you felt the mattress dip right beside you. His body heat radiated off of him in waves and the warm sensation comforted you closer to a deep slumber.
“Are you still up to eating or are you too tired?” Seokjin mumbled. His voice, so soft and poise almost as if he was afraid to blow your tympanum.
Your eyes still remained closed. Behind them there was an invasive darkness — much darker than the night sky but there was also peace and all you wanted to do was to succumb to that very feeling.
It kept you high and you felt light as a feather. You had never engaged in drug usage but you imagined this is what it felt like to be intoxicated.
“I’m hungry but I’m also so tired,” you yawned almost instinctively, “I just want to sleep forever and ever.”
“Sleeping forever would mean. . Well, you know. .” You know what he implied and though, that’s not initially what you meant you wouldn’t mind that either. Sleeping forever was peaceful and would spare you the burden of figuring out whatever the fuck your life has turned into. Imagine falling into a deep slumber and roaming over into the afterlife peacefully; serenely. Or maybe not. There were a million thoughts etched onto your brain and while you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn’t. You didn’t mind it but there was also a tug at your heart just urging to allow yourself to see things through.
“I just meant. .” you paused, “I just meant I’m really really tired.”
“I know. .” he stood from where he sat on the bed and your eyes met him by the door. “Are you still down to get food though?”
“Have you heard my stomach?” His smile was contagious as you'd quickly learned as a smile was painted on your lips as soon as his lips carved into a bright beam almost as illuminating as the golden star prancing in the late afternoon sky, “I think hunger trumps sleep at this moment.”
That was a fib. But you didn’t really feel like being left alone with your thoughts at the moment — they were loud, overwhelming and deprecating. To be honest you’d been lonely for way too long and you hated basking in the solitude of your own company. It’s not what you wanted or what you needed.
Perhaps, tomorrow will be kinder.
The sun was less brutal now.
Likely, because the sun was en route to kiss the ocean as it continued to move closer and closer towards the horizon. The blazing star still had quite a journey ahead but it no longer sat in the middle of the sky shining down with its stinging rays.
Late afternoons were always your favorite part of the day. Back in the city the congestion of buildings on every street wouldn’t allow for this kind of life; for a scenery like this — and again you began to feel at ease in your heart. You love it. The loud cackling of the neighborhood kids, the sound of skateboards, skates and bikes against the pavement, the smells of backyard barbecues and the briny waters just ahead, which was technically your front yard for the summertime.
Back in the metropolis you’d learn to suffer through each passing day. Falling into the safety nets of routines and hoping for a better tomorrow.
There was never fulfillment or satisfaction, just emptiness. A profound and very overbearing emptiness that swallowed you from the inside right into a dark pit of nothingness.
“I hope you’re not vegan or anything,” Seokjin took a seat right beside you on the ledge of the building, your legs dangling from the edge, “otherwise we’d have to head back into town for some more dining options.”
“I’m not vegan,” you confirmed.
“Good, cause uncle Gong made us some crab cakes. He swears they’re his specialty but it’s my recipe,” he beamed.
“Bullshit. .” I raised my eyebrow at his claim.
“I’m serious!” he took a bite of the fritter, “well actually it was my mom’s but she taught me how to make it.”
Was. Past tense. Did he realize he’d refer to his mother’s existence in such a way? He must’ve. Then, that would mean she’s no longer here. . No longer in Seokjin’s life. Did she abandon him or did she pass away? There were a million questions roaming around in your head but again you didn’t dare ask.
Though, it was hard to imagine him caged in the torment of sorrow. Sure, everyone experiences it sooner or later but it just didn’t seem like him. You’d met him just a couple hours prior and you could already tell Seokjin was a bright soul. With a tender gaze that wrapped you up like a warm blanket and a smile that could ease any burden or pain even in the absence of words.
Already, you’d felt closer to him than anyone you had crossed paths back in the despondent sidewalks of the city.
Seokjin is a friend. He is your friend.
“Well, her recipe is amazing,” you utter in between bites, “so thank you for passing it on to your uncle to make.”
“It was my pleasure,” he smiled.
A brief silence fell between the two as you finished your meal but you didn’t mind the lack of words. It was just the two of you, the lullaby of the waves, and the orange and pink hues set the sky ablaze as the sun continued its journey sinking deeper into the horizon.
Life here seemed to come right out of a painting — sort of like those you would see hung on the wall of an art exhibit and be completely divulged into, finding shelter behind the intricate lines and vibrant colors.
“Where are those kids headed?” you asked, nodding towards the kids speeding down the street in skates and skateboards.
“There’s a skatepark down the street,” he said, “I ride my bike there all the time whenever I wanna run away from kitchen duty.”
“Kitchen duty?” you tittered.
“You think I’m bullshitin’ again don’t you?”
“You said it, not me.”
He shook his head, laughing quietly at your playful banter, “do I not seem like a chef who also happens to be into bmx?”
“I’d have to see you partake in both of those activities to believe it,” you shrugged.
“I’m on prep duty early morning so I’ll get back to you on the cooking thing but we can begin with the skate park tomorrow,” Seokjin offered.
“Tomorrow it is.”
Seokjin swung back and forth, he seemed to have something on his mind but his lips remained sealed until finally he spoke, “What about you? Do you have any hobbies?”
“Yeah,” you picked at the blue chipped nail polish on your nails, “I went to culinary school actually. I was a sous chef back in the city but I was fired.”
“Oh, shit,” Seokjin’s eyes were the size of pool balls, “Led me right into the lion’s den. Didn’t you? Now, I can’t cook for you. You’d put me on the chopping block.”
“I promise I won’t,” you clasped your hands together, “Contrary to what you might believe, cooking is not my passion.”
“Parents?” he didn’t need to elaborate, you understood perfectly.
“Kind of. .” You moved your head from side to side, “They didn’t really influence my decision but my dad’s a chef and I thought I needed to be just like him.”
“And you learned you didn’t?”
“Exactly,” you nodded.
“So what’s your true passion?”
“Art. I’ve always wanted to illustrate books,” you turned away sensing you’d peel too much back. Perhaps, you have. Perhaps, not but no one had ever asked you that before. No one has ever shown even the slightest interest in learning what fills your heart with joy and consumes your days with a sense of accomplishment, “it was my minor in college.”
“You should go for it.”
“You don’t even know if I’m good..”
“I don’t need to,” he tilted his head in your direction, he was glowing — truly the textbook definition of beauty, “I can see the way your eyes twinkle at the mere mention of it. You should do what makes you happy.”
“What makes you happy?”
“This place.” His words weren’t elaborate yet somehow you kind of understood exactly what he meant.
“What makes you stay?”
“That’s what keeps me here,” he nodded signaling out to something in front of him but you couldn’t really decipher what he was pinpointing.
Finally, your thoughts settled, “the people?”
“The tide,” his chestnut eyes remained on the scenery laid out in front of the two of you. Then he continued, “it’s always serene; peaceful. And even in the havoc of storms the ocean manages to sing a tune that fills me with comfort. It calms me down.”
“The tide.” You mumbled in solidarity with his words. Because it was true. The ocean was a music box kept open and the more you sat and listened the more at ease you felt.
As if you were meant to be here, like you belonged here, right where you were.
Remnants of the night before flashed in your mind and you remember Seokjin’s sweet words as he communicated that the roof was your official hideout as it was closed off to the public and uncle Gong despised climbing anymore stairs than he had to — a place where only the two of you could escape to and just get to know each other for hours and hours. You really liked the sound of that.
You yawned, rubbing sleep off of your lids and walking into the bathroom to carry out your morning routine. Soon, you moved over to the kitchen preparing yourself a quick breakfast composed of eggs and toasts. After your rooftop adventure Seokjin had accompanied you back into the main part of town to grab a few groceries at the mini super market. Thank God for that.
Time was now nearing the late afternoon and after throwing on a pair or shorts and a crop top you were flying out the front door, down the stairs and towards Kim’s Abroad. Seokjin said he had the early shift today. It was too early in the day for customers but he was helping with prep before the restaurant opened in about 15 minutes for the lunch rush.
“You ready?” he asked, exiting the shop through the back door and hanging his apron on a hook you couldn’t particularly see. It was astounding how fine Seokjin looked even in the simplest outfits. Like today, he wore denim shorts which cut off mid-thigh, a white tank, black converse and the same backwards blue baseball cap which he tucked his floppy bangs under to keep them away from his face.
“Ready.” you confirmed following him to the bike rack as he began unlocking his bicycle from the metal bar.
Again, for the third time since you two met you hopped on the pegs placing your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling off the back of his bike. You looked down at his soft golden skin stretching over his massive shoulders. You hadn’t noticed the day before but Seokjin was well-built. The dark veins stretched up the dorsal side of his hand and forearm as he gripped the handlebars steering the bike down the street. His bicep flexed whenever he pressed on the hand brakes.
It was distracting. But whenever you tried to take in your surroundings and drink in the beauty of this town you found your gaze focused on him.
He was the swirls of black and white psychedelic lines inducing you into a state of hypnosis — demanding your attention be set on him and refusing you spare even a second thinking of anything else.
That gravitational pull you felt drawing you closer to him despite how close in proximity he was terrifying. You barely knew him and already you felt as if you’d known him forever.
“We’re here,” he said, pulling up to the green metal bench inside of the skate park. Hoping off, you finally peeled your eyes away from Seokjin and looked ahead to the crowded park adorned with ramps, stairs, rails, dips and countless other obstacles.
“What if. .” you began, ogling the kids successfully landing their tricks, amazed by their effortless talent, “what if they get hurt?”
“They stand up and just try again.” Surely, it couldn’t be that simple. It must hurt. It had to hurt. Your past of disdained misfortune resulted in you landing on the floor, head first, one too many times which hurt like hell. Those were slips and stumbles nothing hard enough to cause any real damage — you really couldn’t imagine busting your ass here on this fucking concrete.
“Standing back up must hurt so fucking bad though.”
“It does,” he pointed out the scars adorning his upper and lower extremities — some healed, some not.
“So you spend a lot of time with these kids huh?” you asked, simply wanting him to open up a bit more; to learn all of the details unique to him. Those details which made Seokjin who he was.
“Sometimes. When I’m not in the shop,” he shrugged, taking a seat right beside you on the bench. His thighs rubbing up against yours, “don’t go judging me for hanging around here on my down time. I’m not the only twenty year old in this skate park.”
“I wasn’t judging.”
“Your eyes tell.”
“Are you saying I’m easy to read?” you asked, his eyes shed their usual tone of dark brown under the sun rays now glowing closer to caramel.
“Right now you are,” you didn’t know if you were daydreaming but his vision continued to circle your features, first back and forth between your eyes and then lower down to your lips.
“Are you going to show me what you got or are you just going to sit here all afternoon,” your voice barely above a whisper. You were afraid your stupid mind would lead you to do something stupid.
“Actually. .” he pulled a pair of white and purple skates from the backpack he previously carried on his back, “we’re here for you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“I know we only met approximately twenty-four hours ago but I have a confession to make,” you cleared your throat and he moved closer towards you, (As if that could even be possible. . He was practically sitting on top of you), wanting to preserve your privacy, “I’m a klutz. I’m clumsy. I am a walking liability.”
“Now, you’re just making things up.”
You shook your head, “I’m not making it up.”
“If that is the case then it’s okay,” he pushed the skates closer in your direction, “I’m here to help.”
“I just hope you have a first aid kit near.”
Seokjin reached into his bag showing me a red pouch with a white cross on it. A wide smile plastered on his face. “I’m always ready.”
“Of course, you are,” you grabbed the skates from his hands, “ but I’m expecting you to catch me if I fall.”
“I will, don’t worry. I’ll always be here to catch you.”
In the middle of your chest, where the seat of your soul beat rhythmically on its day to day course, today in that moment, after those two words were uttered from his dulcet lips there was a stutter in your palpitations and for a brief moment you felt a ping at your chest. It hurt so much — but it also reminded you that you were alive.
Beads of sweat strolled down your temples as you tried to maneuver the roller blades strapped to your feet. Your balmy palms remained clasped against Seokjin's holding on for dear life. Your eyes were glued to the floor but you continued leaning into his guidance, determining that you would get it and you would not stop until you did.
Seokjin was extremely patient. Even with your frequent squealing and the death grasp you maintain, he remained calm. Slowly guiding you over the small ramps and the mini cylindrical cone shaped obstacle with the flat tops.
“You got this,” his words of encouragement dozed you with overconfidence and soon you began feeling invisible. As if you could conquer this and anything else thrown your way no matter how big or difficult.
With his guidance and instructions you continued being led around the skatepark with your knees slightly bent, your upper body leaning towards him for balance and the slowed gliding of the eight wheels against the pavement.
“You’re doing great,” he wore a gleeful grin.
You didn’t know if his praise was tainting your lack of better judgment but the words escaped your lips before you even realized what you said, “can I try it by myself?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I forgot your helmet, knee and elbow pads,” he guided you towards the green bench once again, “let’s keep your first lesson simple. Just until we come back with the proper equipment. Yeah?”
You nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I think that was the adrenaline talking.”
“I hope that means you’ve enjoyed yourself.”
“Of course, as long as I’m invited I’ll definitely be tagging along more often,” you smiled.
“You’re always invited.”
Unlike the betrayal of your tremulous legs and arms while skating Seokjin maneuvered his bike with confidence. He dropped into the bowl without hesitation, then jumped. . levitating in mid air. You were stunned, it was as if he could fly — soaring in the sky like an eagle. He did it again, and again, and again and you cheered him on loudly hoping to reciprocate a fraction of the support he’d expressed as he helped you skate.
“How did you even manage to do that. . without even breaking a sweat?” you were still stunned as the two of you walked down to the shore after leaving his bike back home after leaving the skatepark. Home. Well, temporary home.
He shrugged, still a cocky smirk planted on his lips, “I used to practice a lot.”
“You’ve got to teach me to do all of that.”
“First, I gotta teach you to not fall off your skates.”
“Right,” you smiled.
The two of you walked right beside each other leaving no room for space in between — your hands kept brushing against one another and that friction alone radiated prickles of heat to crawl on your skin.
“You’ll get it soon,” he leaned towards you, bumping his shoulder into yours, “you’re an amazing student. . So far.”
“So far?” you gasped, taking fake offense at his meager ‘compliment’.
“So far,” he nodded, “. . because you also did try to go off riding on your own after one lesson.”
“I didn’t go off running,” you rolled your eyes, “I asked if I could. Drama queen.”
“Because I was holding on.”
You shook your head, “again, drama queen.”
You and Seokjin walked on the sidewalk parallel to the shore line for quite some time now but he kept babbling about this secret spot he swore was worth it. Without a line of questions or an inch of hesitation you followed along knowing that each adventure promised contained a photo album of memories in your mind to go along with it. Still, you didn’t mind the distance and you didn’t care what the destination looked like as long as the plans involved having Seokjin presence right there with you.
“This way,” he said, cutting down a small pathway leading towards the beach, “I don’t think your flip flops will cut it though,”
“We’re not too far from the house. I could go back for some sneakers.”
“There’s no need for that. We’re practically almost there. Come on,” he crouched down in front of you. Was he really insinuating you’d do what you thought he was? “Hop on.”
Whoever said Mt. Everest was the highest peak on planet Earth was fucking lying. Though, you have never found yourself on the mountains’ slope, already, you knew being carried on Seokjin’s back was far more exhilarating than any other journey you could embark up the Himalayas. From his back, the world seemed anew. It was brighter, clearer and scorching too. You weren’t really sure if that was because his height boosted you a bit closer to the sun or if it was because his palm rested on your bare thighs, holding you in place as he ascended down the large rocks.
Perhaps, this is the kind of freedom he felt while riding his bike at the skatepark, quickly you began to understand why he chose that high.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Except you weren’t. His touch was ardent against your skin and while it felt like you played too close to fire, it was also addicting. All you knew is you wanted to feel that blaze on every inch of your body consuming you into lively flames.
“We’re almost there.”
“Hey Seokjin, can I ask you a question?”
“Whatever you wanna know. I’ll answer,” you wrapped your hands around his neck, resting your elbows on his shoulders. His warm breath fanned your arms causing goosebumps to etch on your skin. For a brief second he rested his head against your forearm before continuing, “but first please call me you gotta start calling me Jin.”
“Jin,” you mumbled, “it suits you.”
He chuckled, “you had a question?”
“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “back at the skatepark you said you used practiced a lot. . on your bike.”
“I did.”
“You’re still referring to it in past tense.”
“I am.”
“Why?” you really didn’t want to push too far but you also had a desire to ask and know.
“BMX, the competitions,” he began, “it’s something I did in the past.”
You furrowed your brows, “But you still do it. What I mean is you still go to the skatepark.”
He sighed, where was something weighing on his heart. You could feel it, “Yeah, now it’s just a pastime. Something I hold onto. Just to have some sort of life line between the old me and the present version myself.”
You and Jin were polar opposites. While he chose to dwell in the past, in the blink of an eye you ditched yours back in the city. Without hesitation you abandoned your sluggish life as a caterpillar lurking through the shadows of skyscrapers — awfully slow and urging a better brighter tomorrow. Metamorphosis indicates that after the cocooning stage the insect should blossom into a beautiful butterfly. You weren’t at that last stage yet but you hoped one day you would be.
“What was the old you like?”
He shrugged with sour thoughts tugging the corner of his mouth downward, “I was young. . way too young obviously and naive but I also urged for calmer waters.”
“Did riding help out?” you asked.
“It did. It helped quite a lot for a long time,” he mumbled, “. .until it didn’t anymore and now I guess I’m trying to make peace with it.”
“Is there a particular reason why it ever stopped helping?” You felt his muscles tensed as his slender fingers sunk a bit deeper into your skin. It didn’t hurt but you’d hit something you were trying to avoid, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” his feet finally came in contact with the golden grains of sand but he didn’t make any effort to put you down. No, he only held on tighter, “it just drags along a string of. .” he paused, “memories.”
“Bad. . memories?”
“Bad memories,” he confirmed.
The ocean sang its soulful tune just a couple of feet away as the waves continued their rhythmic crashing on the shore. It was soothing. . peaceful and it eased your nerves against his warm palms.
“During that time. .” he began, sighing heavy as the soles of his feet continued sinking into the sand as you trotted further down the beach, “I was wandering around aimlessly—in my head for too long. I lost someone close. Someone who I loved more than I even tolerate myself.”
“Jin, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” there was a slight tremble in his voice, as if he was trying to get a massive knot down his esophagus, “it happened years ago.”
“Still, time measures no grief. It must’ve been hard then and it probably still is,” unconsciously, you found yourself laying your head against the back of his neck, “but it is okay to feel, and cry and allow ourselves time to process and make our own peace. We’re only human after all.”
“I’m still trying to make peace with it everyday but I choose to remember our positive days,” his eyes focused on the footprints he left behind on the sand, “her love, her embrace and tenderness, her charisma. . it was very easy to love her.”
Her? Her.
The only woman he’s ever referred to in the past tense was his mother shortly after the two of you met. You wanted to ask and express proper condolences. Not to be nosey but to be there for him and provide a shoulder for him to lean on. Make sure he’s actually okay, although he seems to be dealing with things well you still don’t want to trigger any melancholy memories.
“The good memories will keep her alive and grounded in your heart,” your hand hovered over the center of his chest. “I’m glad you’re on the road to making peace.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“You should continue riding though,” you murmured, “Despite what happened I’ve seen you soar on your bike. It makes you happy and you should do what makes you happy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he giggled, “I see what you’re doing.”
You gasped, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course not,” he laughed.
“I mean it though.”
“I know,” his hands roamed higher down the avenue of your thighs a bit closer to your bum but not quite. The feeling was sensational—vertiginous and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t read through all of the scenarios blooming in your head. . The ones where his touch doesn’t just stop mid way up your thighs. No, instead he continues inching higher and higher until. . “Thank you,”
His words pulled you out of your daydream yet you still felt the despotic heat coursing through your body. Too potent to ignore.
Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking. A monument right out of a National Geographic magazine cover. The two of you lay in the small cave with an oculus skylight at the top allowing the sun to peek through when it sat high on the cerulean sky along with two archways opened right up to the roaring sea.
The grains of the golden sand felt therapeutic and warm under your indolent frame. There was a brisk breeze cooling you down, not too cold but just cool enough to dry your previously balmy skin.
It was a slice of heaven. . right here, right now.
And Jin, he laid right beside you his body heat radiating in eminent waves. Finally his dark strands on full display no longer hidden under the cap the way it’s been since you met him days prior. His shirt was off displaying his sculpted physique which captivated your attention entirely.
Seokjin’s secret spot is breathtaking but so was he. And fuck was it blinding the way he was shining brighter than the amber star overhead. He was ravishing; stunning through and through.
“Was the trip worth it?” he asked, his dark eyes burning a hole at your side.
“I barely made as much as a trip, you carried me the entire way here,” you scoffed, “is your back really doing okay?”
He rolled his eyes, “for the hundredth time my back is doing just fine.”
“So, let me ask you, was the trip worth it with me on your back the entire time?” your expression was deadpanned.
“Wrong question. .” he smirked. “Did my hands and back find comfort in carrying you the entire way? Yes.”
His hands on you. Your mind flashed in spurs to that very moment where his warm touch birthed goosebumps on your skin. Quickly, that feeling became looped in your mind and even now, when his hands were no longer on you, you felt it—God, you felt it.
“And the truth comes to light,” you tutted, kissing your teeth and shaking your head in disapproval, “is that all you wanted? To feel me up, Jin?”
The apples of his cheeks were dusted in a deep roseate shade, “I mean. . it’s not all I wanted.”
“Are you blushing, Seokjin?” you mumbled, “I thought this was a confessional. I mean you enjoyed having your hands on me the entire way here, right?”
“Right,” The crimson shade traveled to the tips of his ears. He’s bashful; how cute.
“Jinnie?”
He hummed.
“I also enjoyed it,” you said, “it’s too bad though.”
“What is?” His eyes were doe-like, holding a luminous glimmer which projected the intricate ocean waves on them as they continued rocking right before you.
“Your hands never really made it where I needed them.”
He gulped, “and where was that?”
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” your fingertips toyed with the button of your shorts. Typically, you weren’t this forward and simply let your misfortune map the adverse roads of your life but today you didn’t care to fight against yourself. You wanted him. You needed him, “of course, we can pick up where you left off and actually progress higher this time.”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“Are you okay with that?”
“I’m so okay with that.”
“Is that the only way in?” you pointed in the direction the two of you came in.
“Boats can pull up through the archways as well,” Jin’s bottom lip was tucked under his lips and his gaze devouring you entirely.
Of course, you began the show by slipping your hands under the fabric of your denim shorts. Your middle finger began drawing vertical lines against your clothed slit—dragging it slowly. Up and down, again and again, until the friction became useless to your zealous desire.
“Then, we better be quick,” you breathed out.
“I better be quick,” he emphasized moving closer to you.
The shadows of his face were so close to yours you could draw out every little feature and decipher the hints of eucalyptus and mint from his morning shampoo. Your hands landed on his cheek, leading him closer to you; pressing your bodies to one another.
Seokjin’s lips were warm and soft like velvet moving in a uniformed dance against yours. It was slow yet passionate as if he was trying to savor every inch of your lips—as if he wanted to be consumed by the taste of your tongue.
The pads of his fingers left behind a trail of goosebumps as they moved lower and lower, until they came in contact with your shorts. In a swift moment he unbuttoned them and began drawing small figures onto your skin right where the hem of your panties sat.
Between his lips and his touch you felt inebriated, as if you were mindlessly roaming around somewhere between the clouds and the sky.
He pulled away but his forehead rested on yours. His lips still hovered over yours as his paced pants fanned his cool breath on them.
“Can I. .?”
“Please, Seokjin. Please touch me,” the pleads dripped from your lips semi-automatically and you had to admit there wasn’t a hint of shame to hold you back.
There was nothing on earth more exhilarating, more enlivening than the feeling of Jin’s hands sinking under the fabric of your silk underwear. Not riding a roller coaster, not climbing the highest mountain on earth, not even winning the fucking lottery. His touch was intoxicating. . just like his kisses and there was nothing you’d rather feel. Except, probably a bit, more.
“Faster, please,” you whined, swaying your hips against his touch as he drew circles on your aching clit. If obeying and compliance was a stern trait then it is one Jin conveyed with no push backs or arguments.
“Tell me something doll,” his fingers traveled lower lining up against your entrance. He pressed against your cunt but never pushed past—the squelching of your wetness echoed in your ears. It was all you could hear, “did you ever think we’d be in this predicament this early on?”
You gasped, urgently shaking your head as his fingers became wrapped in your walls moving in and out of you slowly, “I-I didn’t. But I did hope for it.”
He sneered, “you hoped for it, huh?”
“Dreamt of it on my first night here actually.”
“I dreamt of it too, you know,” he whispered softly, his lips traced the shell of your ear, “the way you’d feel, your sweet sounds, the way you’d be clenching around me the exact same way you are right now.”
His name was a mantra laced on your tongue and you uttered it once and once again as if it was muscle memory. The only thing, the only name coherent enough in your head—the only one you knew, which was probably true. You couldn’t even recall your own.
But he had no mercy on you, his digits had no mercy on you—they just moved in and out of your slickness quicker and quicker as time progressed and you were so close, you practically stood at the edge as your orgasm approached in a massive wave.
“Please,” you moaned, “please let me-“
He shook his head, “Just a bit longer, doll.”
You hadn’t even realized your eyes were shut tight, the back of your eyelids tainted with desperation. And Jin was no longer stationed beside you, instead he kneeled in front of your bent legs spreading them farther and farther away from each other.
The ocean still sat just a couple feet ahead, still singing that soulful song which eased your nerves the longer you laid on that very sand waiting—urging for Jin’s touch on you.
It was all you could think of. . the way his touch burned trails of passion on your skin leaving behind a desire so potent that you just couldn’t extinguish without his help.
He was the only one who could put it out.
Seokjin removed both your shorts and panties leaving them pooled at your ankles. His austere gaze remained on your cunt and he seemed to be drinking in every detail of your blossomed rose.
“Beautiful,” he mumbled, almost inaudibly.
“Jin,” your eyes, your voice both dripped with desperation.
He nodded understanding your unspoken command almost instantly inching closer and closer between your thighs until his face sat just a couple inches away. His tongue was frigid against your slit it weaved a bolt of electricity intertwined along the ridges of your spine. A gasp escaped your lips as he perfected the combination of sucking and licking your sensitive bud before dragging his flattened tongue along your folds.
A delectable repetition. One, more saccharine than any dessert you’d had the burden of making back during your days in the kitchen.
This was better. It was so much fucking better.
Seokjin’s slurp noises against you, your sweet incoherent sounds and the cries of the ocean were one in the same. All of them were the end product of an orchestrated ballad.
“Jinnie,” your nails massaged his scalp before gripping his face, pushing him closer to you. God, you needed him closer. So much fucking closer.
“Yes, doll?” His words almost muffled an evident refusal to stop what he was doing.
“Can I h-help you out?”
“With?” he continued.
“Even from up here I can see how tight your shorts have become,” you hissed, “I want you in my mouth while you eat me out.”
Seokjin pulled away. Your juices coated his chin and mouth, “That’s fine baby, but I want you sitting on my face.”
Jin took your spot sprawled out on the sand. You climbed on top of him, placing your knees on either side of his face claiming your seat on his features. His hands snaked around your thighs, pulling you down, positioning your soaked cunt to be aligned with his mouth. Meanwhile, you leaned forwards helping him pull down and finally kick off his briefs.
Seokjin was big. Bigger than you’d imagined.
Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you took his tip past your lips, finally getting a taste of his pre-cum. At the same time you felt him take a swipe on your fold before his eloquent tongue dug inside you diligently licking your walls, ridding them off your juices.
The iteration of a sinful melody. Building up tension in the pit of your stomach while your back arched and your toes curled.
Though, you tried to focus on the way his cock moved in and out of your mouth—his deathly grasp on your thighs and his tongue. . It was all too distracting.
“Fuck, Jin,” you keen too dazed in pleasure to fully grasp the way you tugged on his hair keeping his head in place as you began to grind on his face, finally succumbing to the urgency of reaching your approaching peak.
He hummed under you, leading your unoccupied hand down to his cock and guiding it up and down his shaft. This went on for some time. Felt like forever and then finally he came in warm spurts coating your hand. And that very image drove you to your climax as he licked you dry.
Carefully, you climbed off his face and laid right beside him, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath.
Your name sounded like peaches in his strained voice, “you. . that was amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” you giggled, “but once again you did all the work.”
“I don’t mind doing all the work,” he leaned over leaving peppered kisses on your cheek.
“You say that to all the girls who occupy the Airbnb?”
“Nope,” he emphasized the p, “just you.”
“I find that hard to believe. Just look at you.”
“You think my charms and good looks are hard to resist?” he beamed.
“That and the third leg in between your thighs.”
He laughed. “Well, believe it. You’re the only girl I’ve done. . anything with for years.”
Your heart beat rhythmically in your chest at the utterance of his confession. His words didn’t mean much at all but you couldn’t help the fluffers in your head and the way your stomach felt so giddy you thought you’d vomit.
It felt foreign but you welcomed it nevertheless. You liked that feeling.
“You wanna go swimming?” you asked.
“Skinny dipping?” he quirked a brow.
“You’re not worried about someone coming?”
“If someone’s come in for the past like fifteen minutes they saw me neck deep in your pussy,” he stood up taking off his shirt and leaving his shorts behind before running towards the aquamarine waves, “I don’t really think it matters anymore.”
“If?” you asked following behind him.
The day before yesterday was a dream.
A dream, no a wet dream. Composed of your fervent fantasies. And you? You lived in that cave and you probably would for the rest of your time here. Dwelling on his warm touch on your skin—goosebumps rose on every inch of your body causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight.
Your fingers followed the trails he’d mapped on your body, paved so intricately, they were so easy to follow and all roads led to the same exact place.
You were so wet, but you probably had been ever since that day. Was that normal? You didn’t care, you just wanted him to touch you again.
There was a knock on the door waking you right out of your daydreams. Grabbing your robe you wrapped it around your figure before heading towards the door.
“Hey,” you opened the door standing aside allowing him to come in.
“I’m sorry I’ve been MIA since yesterday,” he kissed your cheek—you guys weren’t nearly official but it kind of felt like you were. . or you hoped so anyway, “Uncle Gong has been on edge lately. There’s another seafood restaurant opening up on the pier. It's got him going crazy.”
“Crazy prep hours?”
He sighed before slouching down on the couch, “crazy prep hours,” he confirmed.
“You must be so tired,” you cooed, “do you want anything to eat? I can make you something.”
“I’m okay, besides food is not exactly what I’m craving.”
“Hm,” you straddled his lap. “Then, what is?”
“I should’ve kissed you after I ate you out yesterday,” his hands slid under your robe kneading your upper thighs, “you would’ve gotten a chance to see how addicting you taste.”
His phone began buzzing, it was Uncle Gong. Jin sighed before pressing the accept button and in a matter of seconds you heard the older man’s voice in a frantic banter.
You were one hundred percent sure it wasn’t Uncle Gong’s intention to cockblock but you just wanted Seokjin to stay and fuck you into the mattress.
You were still dripping just thinking about it. However, by the look on his face you were certain he had other news—ones which hindered your fantasies of early morning sex.
“I gotta go.”
“Do you have to?” you whined.
“I don’t want to,” he leaned over, leaving a kiss on your lips. It was brief and your body screamed for more but you didn’t vocalize it. Instead you sat in silence as he continued to carry out a mental battle attempting to find a victo. He had to go, you knew that much. You also knew he wanted to stay. You wanted him to as well but he couldn’t.
He stood from the couch but before he could make his way towards the front door Jin turned back around, kneeling right before you. His hand reached up cupping your face as he leaned closer until his silken lips landed back on yours. However, this wasn’t just another peck.
This kiss.
It swept you under the currents of the bestial sea and you sank deeper towards the ocean floor but you weren’t scared. In the void, under the darkness of the tide Jin was a beacon of light—guiding you towards an eternity where his lips kept moving on yours the way they were right now.
This fucking kiss.
Is your beginning but also your end.
It took your last breath but also made you feel alive.
You didn’t want it to end. . but it did, “meet me at the restaurant tomorrow tonight. Uncle Gong is letting me prepare something for you. Took a lot of convincing but I had him come around.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Just twenty four hours.”
He smiled before closing the door behind him.
Back in the city dating was rather difficult.
Not only were you a workaholic, you also avoided any kind of social events and situations outside of the restaurant.
Here, things were a bit different. You came here for a chance at self reflection, to work on yourself and find the real you but instead your path became intertwined with Seokjin and while you didn’t mind you also couldn’t help but reprimand your heart whenever it skipped a beat at the sight of him.
Sort of like it was doing right now, Jin was in the kitchen of Kim’s Abroad and you sat at the small table set-up for a candlelit dinner for two.
The gears in the rules of the universe shifted Noone ever went through this kind of trouble—to plan something this nice after they’d already had their fun with you. Especially if things would have taken their course as easily as they did with him.
Well, except, maybe Seokjin.
Cute.
“Tonight’s special,” he set both of your plates on the table revealing a cut of grilled salmon garnished with lemon wedges, and accompanied by coconut rice and roasted potatoes, “I hope you like it. . but please do lie if you hate it. I’m sensitive.”
You laughed, mounting your spoon with the perfect bite of all the foods he’d prepared combined before taking it in your mouth, your taste buds danced in delight, “Seokjin, this is heavenly. It is truly amazing.”
“Is that the honest truth or are you just looking to spare my feelings?”
“I would never lie,” you swallowed before continuing, “This is all absolutely delicious.”
“Better than Uncle Gong’s crab cakes?”
“I thought that was your recipe?”
“It is,” he shrugged, “but he thinks he makes them better than me.”
“I don’t know, I think he wins this war,” you joked, “those crab cakes were killer.”
“Traiter,” he scoffed.
Dinner was exquisite but small talk was left to a minimum when you both realized Uncle Gong’s restaurant curfew was quickly approaching. After cleaning up and closing up you and Seokjin headed towards the roof, unwilling to give up the night and let it cease.
The street lights lit up the street corners and while there were people roaming around here and there—it was nothing compared to the congested afternoons.
But you liked this.
The feeling of you and Seokjin being the only people left behind in the world, the songs of the waves still playing in the background and the stars gleaming overhead.
“Has this always been your secret spot?” you asked, laying beside him on the navy blue duvet.
“Yes,” his eyes glowed under the light of the moon, again they looked lighter than you’d remembered, “I practically lived up here like three summers ago.”
“An escape?” you asked, not really needing to emphasize.
He nodded, “after mom passed the house choked me with her lingering presence, her scent, her love. I wanted her back. To spend just one more day with her and make sure she knew how much I loved her and how much I would miss her but that’s just not how life worked and she was no longer there.”
“I’m so sorry,” you snuggled closer into him, laying your head on your chest—his heartbeat thumped against your ear, “I can’t even imagine how hard that time must have been.”
“It was,” he laid his head on yours, “It was harder than hard if that even makes sense. I shut a lot of things out and no longer found comfort in the things I loved. .” he paused.
“Like riding?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, there was a slight tremble in his voice, “it’s just mom wasn’t there to cheer me on anymore. Looking out at the stands was depressing because her usual seat was empty. Sadness overshadowed everything on the track, she was all I could think of.”
You didn’t say anything, just allowed him to carry on without interruptions. He continued, “Uncle Gong tagged along whenever he didn’t have to manage the restaurant but it just wasn’t the same, you know?”
You hummed letting him know you still listened attentively.
“Wounds heal over time though and while this one tears a bit every time I think of her, I know she’s up there watching over me,” he said.
“She is, she’s always been watching over you and she always will be.”
“I know,” he simpered, leaving a soft peck on your forehead. “What about you? Are you missing your life back in the city yet?”
“Not a chance.”
“What is this vendetta you hold against the city?”
“The city is such a hypocrite. I never understood how so many souls could live in the same place and yet one person could still manage to feel so lonely,” you exhaled rather loudly, “life. . things were supposed to be different, you know?”
“Different isn’t always bad.”
“I suppose not.”
“It’s not,” a slight smile sat on his lips. A brief silence fell between you two and then he asked the question you’d avoided giving any thought to since setting foot in town, “do your parents know you’re here?”
“Not. . really?”
“That sounded like a question.”
“It kind of is.”
A slight smile was displayed on his lips, “Are you here hiding from them?”
“Kind of. .” you cackled, “it’s not really hiding if they don’t know I’m here to begin with right?”
“So they don’t know you left the city?”
“They know—I’m not in the city and taking a small break but they don’t know exactly where,” you say mushing all the words into one long word, not really wanting to decipher what you were saying, “they also don’t know I was fired. I think that’ll break their heart too much.”
“Are you planning to tell them anytime soon?”
“I was going to tell them. . once I make it back to the city and find a new job.”
“Oh..okay.”
His embrace grew tighter, he held you closer and you could feel his warmth wracking your nerves. It was like he didn’t want to let go.. not now. Not ever. And you didn’t want him to either, “but I’m not sure if that truly is the reality of what I want,” you sighed, “I was miserable in the city, the life I lived there was rigid. Besides, cooking is not what I intend to do for the rest of my life. I just. . I don’t know what to do.”
“All of the roads leading to our destiny are paved the way they are for a reason,” Jin offered, “they mold us and guide us to the exact spot where we are supposed to be.”
“You’re right.”
“Also call your parents. You deserve to pursue what you want but they should also know,” he said. “Plus, I bet they’re worried sick.”
“Again. . you’re right.” a low sough escaped your lips mimicking the swift draft blowing by in the late night.
”I know I am,” he said smugly, “what would you even do without me?”
“You’re a cocky motherfucker you know.”
“If by cocky motherfucker you mean multi-talented handsome Jin. Then, yes I do agree with that.”
“Not what I meant,” you mumbled.
“You know, you weren’t talking all this shit when we were in that cave a couple days ago.”
“Yeah, I think that’s because my mouth was kind of a little busy.”
“Right,” Jin drew in a deep breath, his fingers toyed with the straps of your dress, “you know I think we left something unfinished back in your apartment a couple of days ago.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad that you had to go,” you turned around now lying on your side facing away from him, “because I wanted—I needed you to stay so bad.”
“Needed, huh?” he asked, pressing closer against your back side. Lingers of sandalwood and citrus invaded your nostrils. An aromatic scent so rich and so addicting all you craved was to bury your nose to the base of his neck and grow faded off his fragrance.
You closed your eyes, ensnared in the trance of his soft pants as he began grinding his crotch against your ass at an agonizing pace.
His clothed dick marked you before you even had the chance to feel him inside you.
It was torture.
“Jin,” you moaned.
“What’s wrong, doll?” he replied in a derisive tone while clicking his tongue. His hands reached lower and lower until they landed on your inner thighs, “am I close to where you want me?”
You nodded frantically, “Higher.”
His fingers delineated the goosebumps forming on your skin as he dawdled his journey to your soaked cunt.
“Higher, Seokjin. Please,” your voice tainted with desire and desperation.
“Tell me, is this where you want me?” His digits traced your folds spreading your wetness en route. Your dress now hiked up to your waist as Jin began rubbing small circles on your clit. Then, slowly he repeated, “Is this where you wanted me?”
“Hm.”
“You were anticipating this weren’t you?” Jin whispered, causing downpours of chills to trickle down your back, “is that why you wore no underwear?”
His fingers continued working in-between your folds, “Uh, fuck yes!” You screamed out.
There were approximately billions of stars in the Milky Way galaxy, a lot of which you were looking up to at that very moment. And yet as you laid there under the incantation of Seokjin’s finger you witnessed the birth of many stars flickering into life.
Your chest heaved as you settled down from yet another astounding high.
“Doll,” Seokjin swiped his fingers coated with your juices onto your lips, as if he was applying lip gloss on you. You opened your mouth taking his digits in licking them clean. “Holy fuck, you will be the death of me.”
“Jin?”
“Yeah?”
“I need you.”
He laid flat on his back patting his lap, “come on, baby girl.”
You straddled him, your wet pulsating cunt rubbing against his clothed erection. There was a painful hunger rooting in between your legs—craving nothing but to have him buried deep in you.
“Take it out,” he instructed. You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.
Slowly, you began sinking down on his cock. Your mouth agape at the overwhelming feeling of him filling you up while your hands landed on his chest for balance. Once accustomed to his size you began to move up and down on his length as he disappeared deeper and deeper inside of you.
Seokjin was full of pleasant surprises; his fingers, his mouth, his tongue so it was really no surprise his dick was equally as blessed.
“Seokjin,” you whimpered.
“Oh doll,” his hands gripped your waist, fingers digging into your skin likely to leave marks behind—guiding you to move at a quicker pace. “Fuck!”
“God, you feel so good.”
The composition of your bodies moving against each other molded into the perfect whole. You were two, but while he fucked into you the way he was you felt as if he belonged inside your walls and you never ever wanted to feel empty again.
“Doll, I’m so close,” his rough and raspy voice was a bass tune in your ears, “so fucking close.”
“I want you to cum in me. Please, Jin,” you continued riding him, your skin slapping on his continuing your journey on his cock sliding up and down over and over until your walls began to clench around him.
It wasn’t long before the two of you reached your peak and you collapsed on top of him, out of breath and too tired to do anything that required moving in any way.
“Now tell me, is there any chance you’d stay even after the summer’s over.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” his skin was scolding even over the layer of his t-shirt, his chest and forehead glistening by a thin layer of sweat, “a lot actually.”
“And what was the conclusion?”
“I like it here,” you kissed his cheek, “I think I’ll be staying. . For now. Take some time to myself and explore things.”
“I like it when you’re here.”
“That reminds me,” you reached for your purse, “ I have a surprise for you.”
You pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to him. His eyes scanned the sketch, “Is this us?”
“It’s us. . in the cave,” you giggled, “I tried to capture every moment.”
“I especially like the one with my head between your legs,” a rosey shade painted his cheeks.
“Had to portray my favorite moment from that day.”
“We can always recreate it. To liven the memory, you know.”
“Right now?”
“Right now,” he disappeared lower in between your thighs, his head hiding under the fabric of your dress.
Kind days were definitely in forecast especially if you had Seokjin right there by your side.
-
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an: holy fuck this was a blast to write. as always if the smut is intolerable pls look away (although, that may be hard cause there are multiple smut scenes so. . uh, yeah).
for the seokjinnies who miss seokjin very dearly .
#bts#bts smut#bts reactions#bts imagines#kim seokjin#bts jin#seokjin smut#seokjin imagine#jin smut#jin x reader#jin x y/n#jin x you#seokjin x y/n#seokjin x reader#seokjin x you#seokjin drabble#bts jin smut#ksj
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Good evening folks! Thank you tuning in!
I'm supposed to be finishing up a request right now but It's six am, I was missing my dog and this popped in my brain, Alastor who hates dogs and a reader who has one
and I can NOT write anything else until I get this out of my brain, I may be projecting a little bit here.
Alastor x reader with a dog headcanons + a drabble thing? in the middle [Romantic]
Warnings!
Brief mention of your dog passing on [it's implied from old age]
all dogs go to heaven but yours wanted to stay with you even if you ended up down below, Alastor being mean to dogs, also once again Alastor may be OOC or leaning into fanon, Apologies for any grammar mistakes!
Okay so it's pretty well known that Alastor doesn't like dogs because they were involved during his death [I think, I can't remember if that's canon or fanon but we're keeping it for this]
I don't think he's scared of them, he just thinks they're one of the worst things created, especially the hellborn ones, not hellhounds [to be fair he probably hates them too]
You know the dogs that fizzarolli has in Helluva boss? The tweaked out lookin' ones? Yeah Alastor hates em' if he saw one on the street he either moves away from em', moves them aside with his staff while giving the owners the stink eye, he doesn't go out of his way to do anything to them usually.
Point is dude doesn't like dogs and if he can help it doesn't interact with them, and I see him more as a cat person CURSED CAT ALASTOR
Unfortunately for him he somehow gained romantic intent for someone who ADORES their funky lil' dog.
You have no idea why your dog was in hell with you, they weren't a bad dog, they were a good one! The very best on fact!
Sure they had tried to murder your best friend by trying to suffocate em' in their sleep, several times, but they were a dog, a sweetheart and they knocked off the murderous intent if you gave em' a snack plus if anyone knew anything was that all pets, Dog, cat, raccoon, hamster they all went to heaven! So you had no idea why your lil' buddy was in eternal damnation with you!
You died so close together, it was maybe a month or so from their passing to yours, you couldn't wait to see your lil' elderly buddy again but you didn't think it'd be so soon! You still had a life to live and you knew that they'd want you to live on!
You woke up in hell alot nicer then other folks, with your dog sitting on your chest licking you awake,
A golden ring around their furry neck, they looked a little different then they did when they were alive with you, but you knew that this was your dog, there was just that feeling when you looked in their eyes.
Maybe everything wouldn't be too bad with them here, You could get through with them by your side after all.
It was hard the first few years but you managed, getting used to the chaos around, finding a decent job and having to carry around a weapon just in case some psycho decided they wanted to kill you that day, and respawning was a whole hassle and you had your lil' buddy waiting for you at home!
You got a Job at a local diner near your apartment complex, your manager sucked, as did some of your coworkers but the pay was decent and you got along well enough with the coworkers that didn't suck plus you got to take home meals and share with your lil' buddy, They didn't particularly like the hell dog food so it was a fair way to feed em' without breaking the bank
You had met Alastor there somehow, it was fuzzy in your memory, you think he came in for coffee or maybe it was to make a deal with some poor unfortunate soul, all you remember is that you had managed to catch the Radio's demon eye,
Looking back you were pretty sure he was trying to get your soul only for the two of you to end up courting.
You had neglected to tell him about your lil buddy until he came to your apartment for the first time, after maybe the fourth date for coffee,
it wasn't quite his style but it was nice, and he particularly liked the vintage radio that stood on your kitchen counter, he was having a pleasant time chatting with you before you went into the kitchen to make the two of you some coffee and some snacks, as you went into the kitchen he looked around your living room his smile straining slightly as he found a dog staring at him with the rage of twenty-five grown men, Alastor simply turned to the kitchen where you were making a charcuterie board for the two of you
"My dear, I fear you have a rat problem,"
Alastor said gesturing at your lil' buddy who continued staring at him, the murderous intent of 'who is this man and why is it in my home?' was clear
You looked up from your charcuterie board confused until you see your lil' buddy death glaring Alastor
"Pardon? What do you- Oh! Yeah that's my lil' buddy, I'm sure I mentioned them once or twice, don't mind em' they're mostly harmless."
"Ah."
And from there came a rivalry, Alastor came to your apartment? That lovely lil' pooch of yours would sit between you on the couch, Alastor would move them away with his staff thingy,
He wanted to dance with you with soft jazz playing in the background? Your lil' buddy lacking fear was running between your legs trying to grab your attention, only for it to backfire when you tripped and Alastor catched you effectively taking your attention
He straight up mocks your dog, your lil' buddy is too short to get on the couch? Bully time, doesn't matter how big your dog is they're getting called a rat, rodent or a mutt by Alastor, if your lil' buddy earned their wings they're getting called a winged rat,
I imagine he's probably more tolerant towards smaller breeds like Corgi's or Pomeranians for example and less inclined towards dogs typically breed for hunting.
He asked once if your willing to re-home the lil' buddy, and you probably almost stabbed him because the audacity of this man?
Definitely was a rough patch in the relationship.
He gets a lil' nervous now when your holding very very sharp knives outside of the kitchen and upset
Your lil' buddy definitely tries to bite off Alastor's ankles.
Later on in the relationship let's say when you and Alastor wed, your dog is your best man, maid of honor, flower girl, ring bearer whatever it's one of those and Alastor has to put up with it,
Rosie likes to tease about how Alastor gave your lil' buddy the stink eye as they waddled behind you as you walked around during your wedding activities,
Alastor specifically had Husk hold them during your dance, and the majority of your wedding after,
Husk thankfully was spared from the rage of your lil' buddy by giving them some of whatever dinner was served.
Now let's move on to house life once y'all are moved in and everything.
Alastor does NOT want them on the bed, he'd rather they be in a whole different room but if you truly desire it aka if it's the hill your willing to die on
He'll invest in a dog bed, or crate, and you can put it in the corner, FAR from the bed you share,
If Alastor falls asleep with you and your lil' buddy is in the room,
They are out for BLOOD, Alastor's in particular if he doesn't wake up immediately he will wake up with a dog on his face,
He can't do anything to harm the dog with you nearby but he can kick them out of the room, or pop's em' into doggy prison he locks them out of your shared room
He does somewhat agree to a truce with your lil' buddy after a few years
Alastor would take the lil' buddy on walks and make sure they stay safe and not attacked by any sinner with a death wish, after all you would probably go on a revenge filled bender and while he'd adore to see it because you know he's a murderous radio demon who likes despair,
he'd rather you not be upset over losing your beloved pet even if he thinks they're a disgrace.
Maybe if he's in a good mood he'll toss a piece of venison to your lil' buddy, and your lil' buddy would not try to smother Alastor in his sleep, or trip the two of you dancing as often as they did before.
Now when Alastor just dipped for 7 years your lil' buddy missed him,
For about three days at most
Your lil' buddy was happy to have ALL of your attention again and they got to sleep in the human bed! And had full reign of the house.
They held very little loyalty to Alastor.
And for good reason!
They were very displeased when the two of you moved to the Hazbin hotel and they spotted Alastor just smiling there, like he didn't just leave for seven years, the audacity!
Let's hope you have a quick reaction time because your gonna have to stop your lil' buddy from chompin' off Alastor's ankles, because how dare he vanished for seven years? Who does he think he is?!
You and Angel dust probably bond over Fat nuggets and your lil' buddy, a very small Pet parent club was formed, Charlie's in it.
Vaggie was probably a lil' concerned about the fact that your dog has a whole adjusted halo as a collar but that's the least concerning thing in the hotel.
If your lil' buddy is big enough Niffty rides em' like a horse,
She has to be watched when she does so.
If you like to dress up your lil' buddy dress em' up as Alastor and he is either flattered by it or your pet is getting a outfit change immediately,
you and Angel have your lil' buddy and Fat nuggets dress up in different outfits sometimes matching if they get along well!
Imagine if we bring cursed cat Alastor into it, I can see it doing two ways
Either Cursed cat Alastor is 100% worse, like Alastor doesn't like your dog but he's not actively trying to eliminate them like Cursed cat Alastor is, radio noises and growls can be heard if you don't separate them, like they are both getting injured, both have murderous intent and just feral time, it is NOT fun.
OR
They team up, Alastor is just trying to eat his deer carcass? Not anymore they are double teaming to steal his breakfast, cursed cat Alastor just appears and starts vibrating while your lil' buddy is trying to drag the carcass off the table,
It never works and often ends with the both of them getting picked up by the scruff's of their necks and getting unleashed outside to wreck havoc on the others unless you find them first.
Thank you for tuning in and reading folks! Reader's lil' buddy is heavily inspired by my own dearly departed dog
hence the murderous intent your lil' buddy has and the tried to kill your best friend bit at the beginning
Also a little tidbit I was thinking was that your lil' buddy was your guardian angel for the time until you passed and then they just followed you down, their lil' doggy halo slipping from their head to around their neck like a really flexible collar, and the earned their wings comment, Alrighty goodnight folks!
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ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER TWELVE
For once, there isn't any smut....HOWEVER.....
Warnings: mentions of murder, implications of gruesome torture, collection of body parts/organs, secret family history, intentions of murder, restraint, forcefully restraining y/n, some hints of conspiracy, conspiring others to hold a secret, cursing...think that's it. I really do feel bad for y/n in this one….This also isn't proofread....sorry. -___-
Next chapter is series finale! Be ready y’all!
It had been two days since Danny confronted you and the boys, revealing his knowledge of your hidden love affair and unexpected pregnancy. You bit your nails out of anxiety, staring out the window and watched as each drop of rain trails down the glass. You became so overwhelmed and nervous, you feared the worst and furthermore, despite his claims of not informing your mother, you wondered if Danny had divulged the details of what you had been doing with your twin stepbrothers for the last nine months, ever since she and Danny tied the knot. Was it too late to abort everything and start over? You considered restarting the entire avenue of how things came to be, you couldn’t deny that you’ve thought about it, yet the idea of abandoning the two men you had fallen for, regardless that it was forced and the nature of your love was more than likely due to Stolkholm Syndrome, was all unbearable. How could you leave them? Not only did you return their affection, but there was no way the boys would ever let you leave or go in peace. Surely, they would have haunted you and taken drastic measures to bring you back, you’ve already seen a hint of their ugliness with all the training and punishments they pushed on you. Aside from their obsessive nature, you have found yourself unable to imagine a world without them; you needed and depended on them so much for the last six months, how were you able to function without their generous consideration and devotion, especially now that you’ve not only gotten used to it, but embraced it. And then there was the baby…your baby, their baby…no doubt the thing was no bigger than the size of a pea, but the thought of you erasing it from your memory, knowing full well that you would have created something beautiful became ultra devastating. You couldn’t do it, you won’t.
The only resolution you could accept was that your mother would find out about you and the twins, and that a huge debacle would unravel between you three and the parents, but it was a love worth fighting for. Your rational sense, well, if you can call it rational among everything that’s happened, told you of the legalities in this situation. It wasn’t illegal to have a consensual love affair between three people, minus the fact that no one would ever know that the relationship did not start out that way, but that didn’t matter to you anymore. You became theirs, and they were yours, it didn’t matter if it was all forced through struggles, pain, and a training process; you had already come so far and done so much, there was no looking back. You weren’t related to them, so really, was there anything genuinely wrong with what was going down? Could your mother be at all mad? Disagreeable, perhaps. You’re quite certain that she would have never thought that her daughter would be one to grow and indulge in such a sinful relationship that involved two men, yet it happened. Maybe…just maybe, this would all bend out through argument and tears. Or, it could end in a different way, one that had not crossed your mind…until Heeseung came into the room.
“Aww, are you crying? What for? I told you everything is going to be fine, come here.” He walks into the room, gently closing the door behind as he smiles gracefully upon seeing the tear stains on your cheeks. He pats on his thigh as most dog owners would do, not that he treated you as one, he just knew that you liked it when he was gentle and soft. Getting up, you walk over and hug him tightly, and he returns the embrace. HIs nose duffles into your thatch of hair and inhales the scent, remarking how lovely you smelled.
“God I love your scent…I dont think there’s anything in this world that looks or smells as good as you.”
“W-where’s Heejeong.”
Heeseungs eyes slowly open as his nose and mouth remain buried into your scalp. A pause of silence fills the air before he finally answers.
“Heejeong is handling the matter of our parents.”
You look up, breaking the contact of his inhaling act as you look at him somewhat confused. “He’s going to see our parents?” You softly inquired, before continuing on as you watched him stare blankly at you. “Why didn't he take us? What is he going to say?”
Sighing out, Heeseung grips your waist tightly, his fingers pinching your skin as he answers. “There won’t be much talking, that’s why you're here and' I’m keeping an eye on you.”
Your eyes widened as you watched the shine of his eye disappear, becoming soulless and empty, matte as black velvet. “N….no…..no…..don’t….Heeseung no!”
“Shhh…”
Attempting to calm you down, Heeseung restrains your movements as you burst out into sobs and made every effort to break free from his grasp to call Heejeong, how could they do this behind your back and eradicate the situation by doing the unthinkable towards Danny and your mother?
“No! Not my mother! Heeseung please! Please call him! Please! She wont do anything to us! I promise! Please don’t do anything to her!”
Your cries fell on deaf ears as Heeseung pins your arms securely to your sides, and brings you down on the floor where he wrapped his lengthy limbs to further secure you. “Shhh its okay baby…I promise everything is going to be okay. We’re going to be free from everyone and we’ll be together forever. The three of us.”
Screaming, crying, and kicking, you nearly fainted upon feeling the extreme fatigue hit you as you were being forced to remain steady. Doing your best, you fought as hard as you could to break free from his grasp and prevent Heejeong from carrying out a deed that you did not approve of, yet with Heeseung burying his nose back into your head, he continues to inhale your scent, smiling maliciously as he pets your cheek and flawlessly keeps you steady in a trapped embrace, wiping away the fresh tears that spilled on your face. “Shhh, there….that’s a good girl. Be still and quiet, take a nap and I’ll wake you when Heejeong gets back.”
……………………
Perhaps it was the way his tight hold around your arms and waist suffocated you, or maybe it was the exhaustion taking its effect, whatever it was, it bowed to Heeseung’s command and you undoubtedly felt yourself drifting off into a soundless doze while he hums a fruitful tune, as if he lullabied you to sleep. Within minutes, you were done, but not without the warm streams that coated your cheeks, and the image of your mother’s face being the last thing you think of before it became pitch black under closed eyes.
……………………….
‘And so the young maiden ventures into a world that reeked of death,
Unknowingly, she strays into a marriage with a bachelor intending to take her last breath.
Though she may not have strayed in blindly, not knowing of what lies behind Bluebeard's closet,
The pitiful, curious maiden will unveil the truth behind the rumors of her bethrothe’s torment.’
……………………….
Strategically parking the car aways, Heejeong calmly makes his way up the driveway of his father’s estate. Greeted by the familiar faces of his father’s guards and surveillance team, he flawlessly enters without being detected, after all, who would ever have thought that the young man, donning all black, would have any murderous intentions to carry out, especially against his own parents. Never minding the aftermath, he came more than prepared to carry out the deed and to pay off the guardsmen with stock bonds of his father’s corporation. Easily, it was an offer that no man or woman would refuse, especially if it meant they could retire at a prime age to any destination they wanted. The buyout is so generous, it even guaranteed a passport with one way tickets to a place of their choice, all they needed to do was to erase the footage, and speak of his presence and arrival to no one.
Entering, he is greeted by the still silence that haunts the massive foyer. WIth a light on at a distance, Heejeong walks delicately through the narrow corridors that lead to the main room. The presence of his parents was lacking, yet he saw their vehicles and knew they had to be home. With his arms crossed, he takes a lingering stroll through the massive room, admiring the moon as it lays nudely in the center of the dark blue sky. The light illuminates his silver strands, and tones his olive complexion into a more pale color while the black cap shadows the darkness that lies beneath those matte black eyes. With cargo pants strapped with tactical knives, a kbar at his hip, and a small bundle of five-fifty cord, the image behind those items is hard to swallow for anyone who would be witness to what he intended to do, and yet…
“Are you here for your father?”
Turning around calmly, he stays composed and steady with an emotionless tone in his features. His arms remained crossed, with the sleeves of his black long sleeve rolled up, revealing the strength behind those veins that graced his forearms.
“I’m actually here for you…and him.”
He doesn’t make any sudden movements, and his eyes remained hidden under the bill of his hat, yet your mother spoke without any timidness in her voice. It was almost as if…
“I figured…I guess you’re here to talk to us?...Or maybe you’re here for something else…”
She knew.
“By the sound of your voice, I’m guessing he already told you about his little visit last week?” Heejeong smirks in a condescending manner. Unsheathing the kbar from its leather cover, he flashes the lengthy blade as he taps the flat, shined edge of the knife against his chin. “Well now, since you already know about the baby, and by the sound of your voice it seems like you already know why I’m here.” Taking note of the woman’s lack of expression upon seeing the kbar made it easy to dictate that she knew of his reason for visit, yet the moment he mentioned the pregnancy, he was slightly shocked to find her eyes reacting, though he didn’t show any inclination of his confusion, at least not yet.
“Y/n is….pregnant?”
“You mean he didn’t tell you? Hmph…fucking aye.”
Your mother shakes her head, looking down at the floor beneath her swarovski shoes. Her brows furrowed as tears began to welp up in the ducts of her eyes.
“You don’t really need to cry, for you, I’ll make it quick.” Heejeong scoffs as he adjusts his grip, equipping the kbar for its intended use.
“I’m not crying because I’m afraid of what you will do…Heejeong…”
He had to be quite honest with himself, he was somewhat stunned at hearing her words, yet, the moment she appeared in the room, her reaction was anything but normal. She had already seemed to be aware of why he was here, and she didn’t seem to be so concerned about seeing the young man before her, dressed all in black while holding a large knife, seemingly flaring off a subtle threat, yet her tears weren’t because of that?
“So enlighten me, why are you crying? Is it because you’re going to miss your daughter? Don’t worry, she’s with me and Heeseung, and we will take good care of her.”
Your mother lifts her head and gives a chuckle that further confuses the man, it was a scoffing sense of laughter that only lasted for a split second before the look of fear and sadness drowned her face once more. “I know she has you both…I saw it in your…and Heeseung’s eyes the moment you both first met her….I saw the way you both looked at my daughter.”
Furrowing his brows, Heejeong blinked before adjusting the expression to a more ruthless countenance. “Wait…so you’re telling me you know?”
“Ha…Heejeong…a woman my age…I can tell when a man is smitten by love and obsession…let alone two.”
The air fell silent and Heejeong merely stared at her, squinting his eyes with a fierce look, demanding an explanation.
“I also knew…that my daughter probably didn’t have a choice when she moved in with you and your brother…am I correct on that?”
Shifting his gaze on the marble tile, he emits small nods before giving off another malicious smirk her way. “Does that bother you? I can assure you, it was all done with good intentions. I love that girl, and so does Heeseung. We both cherish her, protect her, and have both become the father of the baby she carries. We are family, and all she will ever need is us.” Slowly, he takes his steps forward, closing in on the woman, yet came to a breaching halt the moment she spoke up, with a different kind of smile on her face.
“I know…and I hope that you know how glad I am to hear it…especially when you say the word ‘protect’.”
Furrowing his brows once more, Heejeong’s combat boots scuffs the tile as he abruptly stops mid way. “What the fuck is your deal? You knew about us practically kidnapping her, restraining her and holding her damn near hostage, the only thing you didn’t know about was the pregnancy yet…you don't seem to be bothered by that. What? Are you merely being supportive to save your own life? Or are you just a freak with a kink…that can understand the type of love we have for y/n?”
Your mother sobs out, a burst of tears break free yet she laughs laconically, it almost appeared as if she went insane for a second. “Yes! Yes I understand that love you have for her and if the circumstances were different…maybe I wouldn’t have approved but the fact of the matter is…Heejeong…I need you and Heeseong to never leave my daughter. I need you both to keep her and take her far away from this place, as far as possible. I can’t tell you how delighted I was to hear when she ‘moved’ in with you both…yet I wasn’t as happy when I heard about what happened to Jeff…after hearing from her about all those terrible things he used to say…”
Heejeong was beyond all lost. Was she truly just like them? Or was there something that she wasn’t telling, that caused this encouragement to dispel from her? She wasn’t at all concerned about you being with the twins, it seemed like she was concerned about something else. Heejeong was smart enough to sense that, yet he was having a hard time in fully cracking the code. “So…what you’re saying is…you’re okay with me and Heeseung being with y/n, despite the fact that you pretty much guessed…correctly I might add…that we are beyond in love with her…but have also tortured others and brutally killed for that love?” Raising a brow, Heejeong flashes the blade as he takes a couple more steps forward. “Don’t lie to me and try to save yourself now, that’s not going to end well. Nobody…and I mean nobody…is going to take Y/n away from us. Not you, your family, or my father.”
Your mother breaks down once again, her knees meet the cold tile as she buries her face into her palms, kneeling before the man as she eludes a mixture of sobs and laughter. “Good…good…never….never break that promise….”
Looking up, she notes the extreme confusion on the man’s face. Before he could say anything, she beat him to the punch. “Heejeong…I have to show you something…”
………………..
‘Before emitting his travels, where he would be gone till morning,
Bluebeard gives the young maiden a single word of warning.
“Stay away and do not open this door.” he tells her forcefully,
Yet the maiden emits a false promise, her curiosity grows shamefully.
…………………
Leading him to the study room, one that was grand and expelled the unique language of luxury, your mother maneuvers a hack, debunking the security system as she inputs the secret code that she found out during her stay in the mansion.
“No one must know what I’m about to show you…” Looking back at Heejeong for reassurance, she receives it in a single nod as he huffs out a prolonged sigh, expressing a sense of irritation from whatever it was the woman was harboring in secret. “Just hurry up and show me already. If if you keep draggin this further I’m going to make it more painful than you will like…trust me. I have a dark side.”
“One that was developed after meeting my daughter, I’m assuming?” with a snappy response, your mother looked back at Heejeong with a raised brow. “Trust me…you need to know the truth.”
“The truth about what, woman?” Heejeong grows tired of your mother taking far too long in opening the door, after the security system accepts the code, Heejeong shoves your mother aside as he pushes the door wide open. “Okay, what is it?”
Your mother makes her way toward the massive line of wall closets, each door in fine mahogany wood under protected lacquer gel paint. The golden brass handles were slim, yet elegantly decorated with engravings of peacock feathers. “Here…” Opening one of the skinny doors, she leaves it wide open for Heejeong to closely inspect. From afar, he could see the plastering of polaroid photos that were pinned on the inside of the door, with delicate crystal jars and lids, neatly organized on the shelves. “So…you wanted to show me my father’s locker?”
Nodding her head, your mother encourages him to come closer. “Take a closer look…”
Giving a harsh side eye, Heejeong glares at the woman before fully making his way in front of the locker’s interior…and there…
“What….is this?....What the fuck is this?”
……………………..
‘With the young maiden’s curiosity at its peak,
She takes the golden key and inserts it without taking a second blink.
Upon opening the closet door, there she stood in gruesome horror as she looks,
The bodies of Bluebeard's missing wives, all hanging, bloodied and butchered on steel hooks.
Quickly, she closes the door, and removes the key from the lock,
Only to find that the blood red dye on the golden metal became her doomsday clock.
Permanently remaining, no matter how much she scrubbed and soaked,
Unfolding her lack of honesty, this was the trickery under Bluebeard's cloak.’
………………………
“This….is your father’s work.” Your mother solemnly tells him, cradling her own arms, she issues fresh tears of sympathy as Heejeong takes in the note of her words, and recognizes the photos of the various young women. “Aren’t these the girls from the news? The ones that have been missing?”
Shaking her head, your mother clarifies. “Not missing…not anymore. A lot of them had been found…in pieces and without a single breath in their body. The ones that the police haven’t found…trust me…they’re out there in ruin…your father is a monster.”
Trailing his sight down, one particular photo catches his eye. “What is my mother’s picture doing here?” Taking the polaroid, he shifts a demanding glare over to her as he pinches the photo of his mother, with him and Heeseung as children by her side. Your mother quietly sobs. “Heejeong…I am so…so sorry….for you and your brother.”
Heejeong’s heart skips a beat. He crumbles the photo in hand, though he instantly regrets it as the lone surviving memory of his mother crinkles in his palm. He didn’t need, nor did he want for her to clarify. He wouldn’t have been able to swallow it down had he heard it. He already knew what this had meant, all those times when he and Heeseung constantly questioned their father or their mother’s whereabouts, only to be told that she left due to the constant arguing and bickering. For years, he and his brother had thought their father drove their mother away, with his constant philandering habits with the younger women, and his abusive authority, it had only made sense that she would leave…yet the one thing he could never make sense out of, was why she had left without saying anything to him or his brother? Why did she never come back to see them?
“She never left…at least…not by her choice….”
Your mother’s words shatters Heejeong’s state of mind, as the anger drives up from his chest and into his brain. Gulping a hard swallow, he couldn’t even find it within himself to grow teary eyed, the rage took over and prevented him from feeling anything else. Lifting his sights, he inadvertently takes in a close sight of what was contained within those crystal jars. The delicate grooves of the container's decoration obscured the details, yet it wasn’t hard for him to see that within those fine jars, were ‘tokens’ of his father’s victims. Fingers, hands, eyeballs, hair, and even internal organs. Everything was sickening, even for someone like him. Sure, he and Heeseung were murderers, technically, yet they only did what they deemed necessary in order for them to keep you. No one was going to separate you three, and they were willing to do anything to keep it that way. But never in a million years would they resort to murder out of pure pleasure, unless it was for your safety and comfort, despite you not seeing it that way.
As heartless it may have sounded, Heejeong cared less about the murdered women, so long as you were not a part of that list. He was not at all thrilled about finding out his own mother was a part of that statistic, yet she was no more than a distant memory, you were the only thing he and his brother cared about now, however, it went without saying that his father’s actions against his beloved mother deserved only one punishment that he deemed worthy, death.
“So how long have you known this about my father?” Heejeong coldly states as he stares at the jars before him, even taking a moment to delicately remove one of the lids, only to gently shut it back up once the pungent scent of formaldehyde kicked in.
“...It was before the wedding…”
Heejeong’s eyes grew wide as he tilted his head. “You knew for that long and didn’t say anything?” Clenching his teeth, he grew furious as the concept of your mother keeping the truth of his mother a secret for so long enraged him more, yet what made him even more angry was the fact that she knew, and yet never said anything, knowing full well that you could have been a potential victim, considering you were a young woman, pretty, and too gentle nature for your own good, much like all the victims that were targeted.
“Did you ever consider that y/n would be at risk? Look at these women! Y/n is ten times the woman than any of these girls…and you not only kept silent, but married him? I should fucking kill you right now.” Shooting his hand forward, he grips your mother’s neck as he shoves her against the wall. “I’ll fucking slit your throat, cut you to pieces and place you in jars for him to come home to.”
“I….it was for y/n’s safety that I married your father.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, yet still enraged, Heejeong’s grip tightens as he chokes your mother out, before releasing and allowing her to catch her breath. “Fucking explain and get to the damn point.”
“Y…your father…” coughing, your mother chokes up as she quietly sobs in between her words. “Your father admitted….shortly after meeting him….when I met him at the event….I wasn’t alone. I was with my nieces…y/n’s cousins….he was…he was going after them. So he came and greeted us….he was going to eventually get their information and over time….they would have ended up just like these girls….but….but….” her eyes welded up as she sobbed hysterically. “He saw y/n’s photo on my phone screensaver….he saw her and immediately dropped everything….once he found out that she was my daughter….he pretended to love me….he asked me to marry him…and I accepted…but then….one night…..” your mother’s sobs calmed down, as she kneels back down on to the floor, barely able to function as she recollects the discovery of Danny’s unusually gruesome habit.
“One night…he came home…bloodied and just….I could see it wasn't him bleeding…he was covered in some else's blood…he didn’t know I was awake….so when I saw him….he just laughed…..and he told me…..he….he told me…..”
……………….
“Well…since we’re having a moment of honesty, I think it’s appropriate for you to know that I am only marrying you to get closer to y/n….she is so lovely. Oh but don’t worry, she won’t be added to the jars like the rest of them…no…she’s far too beautiful for that. I am going to marry her. Now, if you want to live, I have no intention of wasting my time or my shiny tools on you, but I will…if I have to….if you want to live…and if you want your daughter to keep living, then I suggest you stay silent. After some time, we’ll get a quickie divorce, you go away and I will marry y/n. During the meantime, you will convince her to agree to the marriage, just….tell her how good in bed I am, that should help out. Right?”
……………….
Danny’s laughter following his tasteless joke was all your mother could remember. She explained to Heejeong, that she had been secretly trying to find a way to escape, along with Y/n, away from Danny. Yet there was no plan that was sound enough for her to carry out….until.
“When you both met y/n….and I saw the look of obsession that overtook you both during dinner that night…I knew…I knew that was y/n’s way out of this….you two are what was going to protect her….while I find a way out. I-I….I could never let him have y/n…I feigned loyalty to him all for the sake of keeping him from doing anything behind my back. So yes…I stayed silent and acted the part….but by doing so, I bought you both time to take her…bring her to your home….love her…impregnate her…and now…I am buying you time to take her away and do what you need to do with Danny.”
Shutting his eyelids halfway, Heejeong gives a seldom glare as your mother grovels at his feet. “Please…please take her away. I don’t care if you take her away from me, just please….keep her safe…keep her away from Danny…do what you have to do….Heejeong…don’t let that man near her!”
“Where is my father?” Heejeong calmly states as it dawned on him that Danny had been absent the entire night.
“He went on a trip over night….he comes back tomorrow morning. He….I think he went to find a clinic….at first I didn’t know what it was for but….when you said earlier that y/n was pregnant….I think he is finding a way to get her institutionalized….so he can keep her away from you two.”
Turning his head once more, he stares at the crystal jars before kneeling down on one knee. Sheathing his kbar, an eerie smirk develops, one that he displayed before he did away with Jeff.
“Well, I suggest that you pack your bags and leave town…leave the country even.”
Standing back up, with no sense of sympathy in his expression or tone, Heejeong takes his phone out, and hands it to your mother. Looking at the screen, she shifts a wide eye stare back to Heejeong after noticing that his banking app was open.
“Put your account information in there, and type in a number. I don’t care what or how high, type in any number you want with as many zeroes you can fit in. Once it transfers to your account, get your stuff and leave.”
Your mother graciously holds the phone in both palms, yet refrains from typing anything in. “If…if I leave…wiill…will I ever get to see y/n again?”
Crossing his arms, Heejeong’s lids grow heavier. “Why would you? She has me and Heeseung, she doesn’t need you. We are all she’ll ever have and need, mother or not, if I were you….I’d stay away. I’m not going to show you the same clemency as tonight…you come near her, I’ll finish what I came to do.”
Your mother flared a saddened smile, before handing the phone back. “I don’t need your money. Danny left his safe open, he never worried about me taking anything and leaving because he knew that with y/n here, I was forced to be trapped and play along. But now that you know the truth…I don’t need to play anymore….will I?
…………………………
“Fearing for her life, the young maiden sends one of the servants away with a horse and message in hand.
“Fetch my brothers! Tell them what is bound to happen to me, for they love me more than any man can!”
Desperate, the young maiden waits, not knowing if she will remain living come morning.
Bluebeard makes his way back home, where the young maiden awaits, each hour nearing his foreboding. “
Authors notes: the motha-f*cking plot twist!!!
Taglist: @hoyeonheeseung , @yohanabanana , @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii @yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz @mimimovv @stvrryhee @moonmoongi @seungjiseyo @csmicvrse @yohanabanana , @heeshees@yumii0828 , @lprww, @mariji , @silcry @cutiejseong ; @lol6sposts @heeseung-min @heesquared ; @jaeneohee
#heeseung x reader#heeseung scenarios#heeseung smut#enha x reader#heeseung hard hours#heeseung hard thoughts#heeseung fanfic#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enha heeseung#yandere fic#male yandere#yandere drabble#yandere x y/n#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x willing reader#heeseung x you#heeseung au#enhypen heeseung smut#enhypen heeseung#heeseung ff#heeseung enhypen#heeseung imagines#heeseung yandere#lee heeseung smut#lee heeseung x reader#yandere heeseung#heeseung
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Protective Nurse!Steve is everything to me 🫶🫶
Imagine the reader, being her clumsy self, fell down a few steps whilst walking down the stairs and it’s not too sinister until when she lands and bumps her stomach against something. More or less, possibly hurting Blob.
So she calls a friend and her friend drives her to the hospital as she curses herself and is worried that Steve will be annoyed. He obviously won’t be but still.
Reader’s crying in the back because Blob isn’t moving and she thinks that, because of some freak accident, she’s killed Blob.
When she gets to the hospital she gets checked over and finds out Blob’s alright, she’s happy but worried because the baby’s still not moving. And Steve runs into the room, comforting Reader since it’s obvious she’s been in hysterics and he’s usual Steve just being protective over Reader and blob and then Blob starts moving again and it’s just Steve letting her know that it’s not her fault and that accidents happen 🥹🥹
Wooft that was detailed 🫢🫢
AN | Okay, but clumsy girl was destined to have an accident but nothing would ever hurt Blob 🥺 I did take some liberty with this, but I hope y’all enjoy! This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!
Warnings | Mild Language
Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.3k
Masterlist | Steve, Main, Nurse Steve
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Robin,” you huffed as you looked at the girl as she took the boxes out of your arms. The two of you had spent the last several hours looking through one of the local children’s stores…and probably buying way more than one baby needed. But now she was refusing to let you carry a single thing, “I’m not incapable of carrying a few light boxes.”
“No way,” she shook your head, arms stacked and laden with all of your purchases, “I’m not letting you hurt yourself or my niece.”
“I wouldn’t hurt myself,” you mumbled but stopped when you saw the way she raised her eyebrows, “fine. So maybe I’m a little clumsy but - but I haven’t hurt myself at all since I’ve been pregnant.”
“Impressive,” she laughed, her pretty eyes twinkling in amusement, “you’ve gone a whole six months without injury. That’s one for the books!”
“Har har,” you laughed softly, “you and Steve are just so cruel to me.”
“By pointing out the obvious?” The two of you started your walk back to the car, weaving your way throughout the outdoor mall. You felt bad that Robin was doing all the heavy lifting, metaphorically anyway, but you knew that she did it out of love and care. If the roles were reversed, you knew you’d be doing the exact same thing for her.
You stuck your tongue out at her, and started to go down the stairs…and promptly lost your footing, sliding down the wet, slippery stairs. It happened so fast and was over before you knew but at the same time it felt like it all happened in slow motion. By the end of it all you were on the ground, on your side and in some mild pain. The shock of it all was the worst and had you trying to catch your breath, as you looked at Robin with wide eyes.
“Oh no,” she almost dropped everything as she rushed over to you, her own eyes wide and worried. She took your hands and held you to sit up, taking your face in her hands as she looked you over, “are you hurt? Is…are you okay?”
“I think so,” you could feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes as panic set in. It wasn’t so much pain, more so the worry that set in at the possibility you might have hurt the baby, “I-I…blob. I don’t think anything happened but I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” she promised, attempting to sound firm and sure so you wouldn’t panic more. One of you had to be strong right now and it definitely wasn’t going to be you. Robin gently helped you to your feet, brushing off any dirt clinging onto you, “I think it’s a good idea if we go and get you checked out, just in case.”
“The hospital?” your eyes widened, and a pout settled on your features. You hated going to the hospital…even the mere idea of it was enough to make your insides squirm. She nodded as a few tears pearled up and rolled down your cheeks, which she gently wiped. You sniffled, “I want Steve.”
“Well, let’s go and see Steve,” she offered you a meek little smile as she went to pout the discarded purchases. All she was going to focus on was getting you to the hospital, “I promise that everything will be fine.”
“Okay,” you nodded through a slow exhale, “okay.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Finding yourself in the sterile, familiar room once again felt like a weird dream. You sighed as you sat on the table, anxiously swinging your legs back and forth as you rested a hand on your belly. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as you waited for news, any sort of news at this point. Robin was still in the lobby and waiting for you, and you weren’t sure if Steve was going to be able to see you. You hated asking anyway, knowing how busy he usually was.
Eventually a light knock came at the door and you startled at the sudden interruption of your quiet contemplation and fear.
“Come in,” the door slowly creaked open and a huge wave of emotion washed over you at the sight of Steve coming in. The tears were back in full force, flowing down your face as your husband wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest, already feeling better from his mere presence, “Stevie.”
“Angel,” he pulled back and took your face in his hands, gently brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “it’s okay. It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, “I didn’t mean to…”
“Hey,” he put his finger under your chin as he turned your face up to meet his, “there is nothing to be sorry for. These things happen…and honestly, my clumsy girl, I’m surprised something like this hasn’t happened sooner. I’m glad you’re okay, and Blob is okay too.”
“What if I hurt her?” you asked softly, eyes wide with worry, “what if I hurt our baby?”
“She’s okay,” he put his hand on top of yours where it was resting against your belly and gave it a gentle squeeze, “you’re okay, she’s okay, we’re all okay.”
“Are you mad?” you looked at him with big doe eyes, tears glistening there and Steve felt his own heart break. He was positive that nothing was wrong with the baby, and he loathed the idea that you were blaming yourself for a complete accident, “please don’t be mad. I-I-I didn’t mean to.”
“Baby,” his voice took a more firm tone as he crouched down so he was eye level with you, “I am not mad or upset. I’m so glad you came, honey. The only thing I’m worried about is you. Making sure you’re okay physically and emotionally. Blob is safe and sound.”
“Steve,” your lip trembled with effort as you put your hand on his forearm as you held onto it tightly, “I haven’t felt her move.”
You saw the expression on his face pale for a moment before he collected himself and shook his head, “that’s okay, angel. She doesn’t move all the time, and just because she’s not moving now doesn’t mean something is wrong.”
“Steve,” you sighed heavily, “I fell and suddenly she’s not moving around? It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. Maybe I-I crushed or something. I just…our baby. Steve, I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.”
Before Steve could say anything to try and talk you down, another knock came at the door as the doctor slowly entered. A small bit of relief washed over you when you realized it was one of your favorite doctors at the hospital. One of the many perks of marrying a nurse was becoming personally acquainted with much of the hospital’s staff.
“Mrs. Harrington,” she smiled softly as she grabbed a pen out of her pocket to begin taking notes, “Steve. Normally I love seeing you both - but I don’t love seeing you here. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? You fell?”
“Yeah,” you hung your head, “I was with my friend and we were talking and walking down some stairs, they were slippery from the rain, and I just slipped and fell down some of them.”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“I landed on my side so my hip is a little sore but otherwise it didn’t seem like anything was wrong,” you explained, Steve’s arm wrapping around your shoulder, “but I didn’t want…I panicked a little bit and came in.”
“Okay,” she studied you and you swallowed thickly, “do you think something happened to the baby?”
“She’s not moving,” it was a squeak of an admission as you tried to get her to move, “and she’s been active a lot lately. And I just…I want to make sure nothing is wrong.”
“I’m almost positive that everything is fine,” she insisted softly, “sometimes babies go through periods where they’re more active than others. There’s no rhyme or reason for it. But we’ll do some tests and get in and ultrasound just to make sure, okay?”
“Please,” you nodded, dabbing at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, “I just want to be sure that she’s okay.”
“And we’ll get you all the answers,” she promised, “you’re in good hands here.”
“I know,” you reached for Steve’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “thank you,”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You still felt half hysterical as you stared as you laid on the table, waiting for confirmation that nothing was wrong. Your shirt was pulled up and belly exposed, slathered in cold gel as the ultrasound tech got to work. You loved her too - she’d been with you since the beginning of your pregnancy and always had a reassuring presence about her. Steve was at your side, your hand clutched tightly in his. He kept whispering soft reassurances in your ear, which helped to ease your worry ever so slightly.
“Alright,” she stuck the wand on your belly and started to move it around, and you almost held your breath. She moved it around, and you saw your little blob appear on the screen. That alone made you relax, even though you were well aware that there was still a baby there, “well, that is one good looking baby.”
“Yeah?” you asked softly and she nodded. The fact that you didn’t hear anything or see any movement, didn’t help however, “is she…is…”
The fact that the sonogram hadn’t picked up her heartbeat was making you nervous. The logical part of your brain knew that just because you didn’t hear the sound immediately didn’t mean anything was wrong. Steve grimaced when he felt how tightly you were squeezing his hand but kept his face as neutral as possible.
She moved the wand around your stomach and you squinted as you stared at the screen to see if you could pick up any movement. Worry and fear squeezed at your heart as every horrible scenario ran through your mind.
But then you heard it…softly at first but then strong and steady and nothing but relief washed over you. Steve let out a small sigh of relief as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“There we are,” she smiled softly at you, pointing out the different parts of the baby on the screen, “all safe and sound and healthy.”
“She’s okay?” you really didn’t trust anything right now but she nodded at you, “please tell me she’s okay.”
“She’s okay,” she promised, “steady heart beat and there’s movement. But just to do a full check up, we’ll do some blood work too, alright?”
“Yes please,” you leaned your head on Steve’s shoulder, “thank you so much. I feel silly now…but I’d rather just be sure, you know?”
“I understand,” she nodded sweetly, not judging you in the slightest. She’d seen this same type of thing many times before, “besides, it’s your first child. Everything is all new and different for you, so it’s natural to be worried and have heightened senses around…well, everything. But it’s okay - it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”
“Right,” you closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, “sorry for panicking like this, Stevie.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for, angel,” he insisted softly, “I’m sure it’d be the same if the roles were reversed. And now we know that she’s alright, and you are too. I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you too,” you pressed a kiss to your cheek, “you and blob. So, so much.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Hey sweetheart,” your eyes opened at the sound of his soft voice, a sleepy smile tugging up the corners of your mouth. Steve was crouched next to you, brushing your hair out of your face, “have a nice nap sleepyhead?”
“Unintended nap,” you replied sheepishly, “I sat down for all of five minutes and fell asleep.”
“It was a long day,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before sitting on the couch next to you and pulling you into his lap. You made a small sound of contend as you made yourself comfortable and looked at him with soft eyes, “are you feeling alright?”
“Better now,” you promised, carding a hand through his soft locks, “now that we’re both home and cuddling. It was a long day…I can’t believe I just…fell. Well all of it.”
“Are we really that surprised?” there was a cocky grin on his face as he raised an eyebrow. You huffed playfully before gent;y pushing your hand against his chest. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist and your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “sorry clumsy girl, you know it’s all in good fun.”
“For all of you!” you groaned, “I’m the one suffering. Well…kind of. I’m not really hurt or suffering. Just the butt of the joke. I hope you're happy with yourself, Steve.”
“Very,” he snorted in amusement, “but more than anything, I’m glad my girls are okay.”
“Me too,” you agreed, “I’m glad Robin was with me and kept me calm. And I’m glad you were able to be with me.”
“I would have done anything to be with you,” he promised and you knew what he was saying was true. This was Steve after all, “you know that.”
“I do,” you promised softly, “I love you so, so much.”
“I love you,” he put his hand on your hand on your belly which caused Blob to flutter gently, “and you too, little Blob. Both my girls.”
“And we love you, Stevie.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington one shot#st#nurse!steve#joe keery
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New Wave: Jason Todd vs. Annoyingly Perfect Cheerleader Barbie Stephanie Brown
Tim stared at him for another long second, face blank, and a few seconds of hot panic hit Jason before he finally spoke again. “You really aren’t anything like Steph.”
Yeah. Jason fucking got that.
It was always a bad thing. They pretended it wasn’t a bad thing. Oh, nobody ever said it was bad Jason wasn’t Stephanie fucking Brown. But they didn’t need to say it. Jason was a master of tactics and strategy, and he knew he was without resources.
Resources, in this context, being a goddamn fucking perfect blue eyed blonde haired hot white girl. Being peppy and happy and nice. Apparently being some kind of dumb genius who knew everything and everyone. Jason didn’t have any of that. Without any resources or allies, his idiot new life knocked him flat on his back every time. Jason wasn’t Stephanie Brown, and boy did they let him know it.
In which the next generation of inferiority complexes rise.
Now that my magnum opus Stephanie Brown superiority manifesto is done, I can FINALLY post its follow-up! This one was very strange to write, but that just made it all the funner. There's a lot I could say here that I couldn't explicitly say in the main story - and, most importantly, four years later I can finally work in MY childhood nostalgia. FINALLY!
If you aren't familiar with the AU, the premise is just that Stephanie becomes the first Robin in 1997. Not much more complex than that.
Story under the cut.
Christmas brought the inevitable.
Jason always approached the winter like an enemy combatant. He had a military biography phase six months ago, and it left him with a permanent sense he was General Custer in real life. December always left him feeling more like Napoleon embarking on a fool’s crusade against Russia in winter, but Jason knew how to learn from other people’s mistakes. He knew how to make the shelter rotations, whose couch to sleep on, which camps were a no-go and which were alright, and which abandoned buildings the fuzz hadn’t discovered yet. Jason knew how to live his own damn life. He always made it through into March’s other side, and that had always been good enough for him.
But not for Bruce Wayne. Because Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake were coming home, and Tim was losing ground to the colonizers. His worst enemies. The infractors.
(Objectively, Jason was the one moving into somebody else’s home. But he definitely wasn’t the colonizer here. He was gaining no resources but Legos and Nerf guns. The territory was up for grabs and he was going to defend it).
Tim Drake wasn’t so bad, if only because he was a known quantity. Known super obnoxious and ultra pretentious quantity. He had come home from MIT a few times (actual MIT!) to conduct mysterious business that seemed to involve a lot of disappearing into the Batcave and getting snippy with Bruce, and although he wasn’t particularly nice to Jason he wasn’t particularly mean either. Jason had bounced through enough group homes that he appreciated that.
The second time Tim visited - the first time Jason worked up the guts to actually talk with him - was the time to make his move. The opening gambit would be a scouting mission. He decided to push his luck and slither down into the Batcave, even though Bruce discouraged going down there without him. Guy didn’t make a rule about it. If Jason got caught he could pretend he was looking for Bruce in pursuit of following the rules. It was a gamble but Jason knew the odds.
The Batcave had been empty of Batman. There was only Tim Drake, sitting at a work table, bent over the deflated suit and holding a soldering iron. A chunky laptop balanced on the limp knees, and when combined with Tim’s giant goggles it gave him a creepy Young Frankenstein air. Bent over the Batsuit like that, he looked like a mad scientist dissecting Batman’s corpse.
Jason had carefully sidled up to Tim, keeping a healthy distance from the torch. Tim had split the cowl’s casing open like snapping open a skull to fish out the brains with an oyster fork, and he was doing something mysterious to the wiring inside. Jason couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Tim didn’t say anything until he finished. He pushed up the welding mask, shucking his gloves and shaking out his hair. “Can I help you?”
It wasn’t telling him to go away. Jason would press his luck until he was chased off. He sidled a little bit closer, gawking at the dissected Batsuit. “What’re you doing?”
“Installing some hardware to run a program I coded. Batsuit has facial recognition now. You’re welcome.” Tim took off the welding mask, carelessly dropping it on the floor. “You don’t need anything.”
Jason was baffled for a second before he realized Tim had meant the question literally - that he hadn’t been prompting Jason to talk, but asking if Tim needed to do anything for him. Practical guy who welded Star Trek tech into a superhero costume. But maybe he was right - Jason did need something from him. A measure of the situation.
Jason didn’t slide any closer, but he did tug a little at the hem of his fancy shirt. It was just red, but a fancy red. “Are we chill?”
Tim stared at him blankly. “Chill?”
“Uh. Cool.”
More stares. “Why wouldn’t we be cool?”
Was that a rhetorical question? Jason hadn’t met a normal person in months. “I’m kinda in your house,” Jason pointed out. “Eating your food. Being up in your space.” Being adopted by your legal guardian, but like in the weirdest way possible.
“I don’t really live here anymore,” Tim said slowly, “so…”
Great. Pure confusion. This guy didn’t have normal people emotions. Jason’s shoulders fell in relief. “Dope. I’ll just stay outta your hair. Won’t even know I’m here. Good talk.”
Tim stared at him for another long second, face blank, and a few seconds of hot panic hit Jason before he finally spoke again. “You really aren’t anything like Steph.”
Yeah. Jason fucking got that.
It was always a bad thing. They pretended it wasn’t a bad thing. Oh, nobody ever said it was bad Jason wasn’t Stephanie fucking Brown. But they didn’t need to say it. Jason was a master of tactics and strategy, and he knew he was without resources.
Resources, in this context, being a goddamn fucking perfect blue eyed blonde haired hot white girl. Being peppy and happy and nice. Apparently being some kind of dumb genius who knew everything and everyone. Jason didn’t have any of that. Without any resources or allies, his idiot new life knocked him flat on his back every time. Jason wasn’t Stephanie Brown, and boy did they let him know it.
To be fair, Jason was pretty sure Bruce wasn’t doing it on purpose. His emotional intelligence was somewhere between rock bottom and zero. It was tragic, inconvenient, and not his fault, like he was a three legged dog. Jason got that he missed Queen of the Universe, but he didn’t bring up Tim in the same way. Granted, Jason already got the vibes that Bruce knew Tim was not normal whatsoever. Stephanie Brown was the paragon of normality to Bruce. Which was too bad for Jason.
Oh? You live in the East End? What do you mean you don’t know everybody in the East End? Stephanie Brown knows everybody.
Here’s a map, memorize it in fifteen minutes. What do you mean you can’t do that? Stephanie Brown can do that.
Why are you upset over your crook dad and druggie mom? Stephanie has a crook dad and druggie mom, and it doesn’t bother her -
Whatever. So sue him. Jason sucked. He wasn’t a genius mad scientist or perfection incarnate. It didn’t matter. So long as he stayed over the ‘return Jason like a lost puppy’ bar everything was chill.
They could throw him out if they wanted. Jason didn’t even care. He had blackmail material, he could squeeze them. He was pretty sure Selina would help him out, even if it was only to spite Bruce. That woman played cute and everything, but Jason had her number. Spite was the gas in her engine and she was moving a hundred and twelve miles per hour.
Jason was a soldier of life, who approached the world with a strategist’s grim mindset. Goal: stay in the semi-heated mansion featuring hot food and a security system at least until March. Impediment: Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake were coming home, highlighting Jason’s innumerable faults and subpar everything. Potential casualties: Stephanie and Tim’s presence could…end up with Jason kicked out for some reason, that part was fuzzy, but it was definitely a danger. Plan of action: be super polite, hope, and pray.
Tim came home first, blown inside with the blustery wind and spears of delicate ice. Jason had been working on homework in the library when he walked through the door, and pretended he couldn’t hear the clumps and noises of suitcases and warm-ish greetings and thumps of feet on hardwood. He waited several hours until he was comfortably pushing the perceptible threshold of purposeful avoidance before emerging from the library. Make an appearance - not avoiding you, look at my chubby cheeks! - and beat it. Plan of action, commence.
Tim and Bruce were sitting in the fancier family living room - not the one for guests or the more relaxed den, the one for family but in a slightly more formal way and Jason felt like a fucking idiot stringing these words together in this order - on the fancy couches, talking quietly with each other. Jason absently noted that Tim was sitting in an armchair perpendicular from Bruce on the couch. Sitting closer to each other, but not on the same piece of furniture.
They both looked up when Jason stopped at the doorway, absently clutching the doorjamb and wriggling a little. Bruce’s expression lightened, but Tim just blinked sleepily. Guy always looked half-asleep and a million miles away.
“Jason. You finish your homework?”
“He has you doing the Bat-homework?” Tim asked, blinking slowly. He was like a sloth at the zoo. “That’s a throwback. Stephanie did nothing but read those textbooks for months. They’re pretty tough. Frustrated the hell out of her.”
Bruce just smiled faintly - a big grin on anybody else. “I think the first textbook she read since sixth grade was a college textbook on forensic profiling. Finished it in a week and asked for the next one.”
Thirty seconds. It took thirty seconds. That had to be a new record.
“It’s just normal homework. And yeah, I finished for the week.” Jason swung from the doorjamb, gawking at Tim. He hoped it was subtle. Maybe not. It was still weird to see anybody else in here. Tim didn’t exactly come back a lot, and he always acted like they were work trips. Maybe they were? “Hi, Tim.”
“Yo. Settling in alright?” Jason nodded fastidiously. “Good. Tell Bruce if you need anything.” Tim turned back to Bruce, brushing Jason off. “It’s just too research focused. Everybody’s hung up on theoreticals and theorems. It’s not useful, Bruce. I could be five times as productive in industry right now.” Bruce ticked an eyebrow at him. “It’s not the classroom.”
“It’s just a change, Tim. It’s the change that’s bothering you, not the school. You picked MIT specifically for its resources and access. Those are worth suffering your peers.”
“Its resources aren’t being used properly. All they’re doing is diagnosing brain tumors and providing clean drinking water to Bialyans. Dr. Hagelstein just invented a clean superconductor without a turbine. Like, who cares.”
Jason perked up. “Clean drinking water? How are they doing it? Like, in a fancy new way?”
“Dunno. I skipped the grant acceptance speech. The Queen of Bialya was attending, so I used the window to install remote access software in her assistant’s laptop.”
“Uh,” Jason said.
Bruce didn’t even have the decency to be surprised. “Why would you do that?”
Tim gave Bruce an incredulous look, as if he had no idea Bruce could reach such depths of stupidity. “Nobody’s been able to make the human trafficking charges against Queen B stick. This is how I’m finally going to siphon her incriminating signed orders.”
“Do I need to give you the destabilizing foreign governments talk again, Tim -”
“What do I look like, the CIA? I mostly just wanted the link into the Light’s movements.” Bruce opened his mouth. “I swear to god they exist and I know for a fact Ra’s is a founding member. I need the conspiracy dirt so I can finally have some blackmail on that man. I don’t have anything and it’s pissing me off.”
“Don’t destroy the League of Assassins without clearance,” Bruce said absently. He scratched his chin, for all appearances deep in thought. “The signed orders could give the Justice League probable cause to legally assault her underground bunker system.”
“The one obviously filled with illegal Kryptonite? You just want the League to confiscate it before the US government does.”
“That was implied, yes.”
“I’m gonna go help Alfred in the kitchen,” Jason said.
The kitchen: where nobody committed international espionage. Anymore.
Tim was cool. He didn’t look, talk, act, or behave like a superhero, but he totally was one. Jason wasn’t certain Tim knew what and wasn’t legal, but everything he did was really important in saving Gotham. And becoming a world power. He was larger than life, strong like steel and just as impenetrable. Jason did not feel obligated to understand or bond with him. It felt stupid to even try, like an intern trying to talk about their girl troubles with the CEO. Tim obviously felt the same way, so Jason was really glad they were on the same page. He was a little worried about what happened to people who were not on the same page as Tim. Were they ever seen again?
Despite the questionable supervillain stuff, Tim was navigable. Cassandra Kane was also navigable. Very navigable - apparently she wouldn’t be home this break at all. Jason had never even met the woman, despite her legal status as Bruce’s long lost orphaned cousin.
She went in and out of the manor as she pleased, going wherever she wanted and doing God knows what. Jason was only pretty sure that Cass was a Batman thing and not an actual, legitimate jet-setting foreign cousin. He couldn’t say for sure. He didn’t exactly want to walk up to Kate Kane at a party and ask if Cass was actually her half-sister or if she was a mysterious Bat-byproduct that Kate was in on. Too awkward if he was wrong.
Apparently she used to stay home a little more often, but since Stephanie and Tim left for college she had left to go do…whatever it was that Cassandra Kane did…by herself. In…Hong Kong? Thailand? Indonesia? It was really unclear. Jason was fine with this. The woman was obviously no threat, even if absolutely nobody had ever explained what her deal was. Bruce and Alfred sounded really fond when they talked about her, and even Tim obviously cared about her. How this translated to ‘Cass is somewhere, doing wherever, she’ll be back who knows when, hope she’s having a blast’, Jason had no idea. Convenient for him, though. It meant he only had to worry about Stephanie Brown.
Apparently Stephanie Brown was coming back to Gotham tomorrow, but she was spending a day with her friends and family in the Bowery before moving into the manor. Jason heard about this at length - from Tim’s long-ass cell phone calls with her to Bruce excitedly talking with the equally excited Tim about their holiday plans together. Excitedly for the both of them looked a little like having a facial expression, but still - excitedly.
Jason’s name was coming up a lot during their plans. This worried him. It might put a crimp into his plans to avoid everybody.
He could already tell it would be pretty easy to avoid Tim. It wasn’t even that hard to play it cool around him. Cassandra would obviously be a breeze - he wasn’t entirely sure she knew he existed. Cass was another randomly appearing Asian cousin, she’d get it. But he could make no promises around Stephanie. He would stay stone against the chaotic tides of blonde women. He would not be moved. Jason was going to be as polite as Alfred and as saltine cracker as everybody in the house.
Jason and Bruce had a little ritual. They would hang out in the Batcave for a little while pre-patrol - just Jason spinning around in the chair in front of the Batcomputer as Bruce stretched and got ready for patrol. Then Batman would hop into the car, the revving of engines would scream into the air, and Jason would wave as Batman zoomed off into the night. Alfred would walk Jason back up afterwards - partly because it was his bedtime and partly because Jason still wasn’t allowed in the Batcave by himself. Alfred would get him settled into bed, making sure Jason brushed his teeth. He always forgot.
And when Jason woke up the next morning and brushed his teeth and walked downstairs, Bruce would be there. Every time. Always.
But Tim sat at the computer that night, doing something extremely scary on five monitors and talking intermittently with Bruce as he prepped for patrol. Jason walked down into the Batcave, saw them, and turned on his heel to walk straight back up again.
“Jason!” Bruce called. Jason froze on the steps. “Why don’t you come down? This is a good time to pick up some of Tim’s programming.”
“Bruce, it’s not going to make any sense to him.”
“He’s a very bright kid,” Bruce told Tim, making Jason flush. “You could teach him a thing or two.”
“I’m terrible at explaining things,” Tim said plainly. “I tried explaining my work to Steph a hundred times and she always checked out two sentences in.”
“Steph has a great attention span.” Bruce paused a beat. “But only for things she cares about. I don’t believe Jason is nearly as ADHD as she is.”
“Jason’s twelve.”
“Can’t stay!” Jason cried. “Making soup with Alfred upstairs! Good night, Bruce!”
He thumped upstairs at lightning speed, taking them three at a time, and narrowly escaped into the dim lights of the study before any more questions could be asked.
Jason had touched a computer, like, twice. Come on, Bruce. Why was he always acting like Jason was capable of doing anything so long as he put his mind to it? What, ‘cause Stephanie Brown could do it?
Jason put himself to bed that night, attacking his teeth with a toothbrush and angrily tucking himself under the covers. By the time Alfred came by to check in on him, Jason was glaring at The Magician’s Nephew and flexing how great he was at going to bed.
“I remember when that book was released. Created quite a stir among my cousins.”
“Narnia’s for kids, but sometimes you have to go back to the basics,” Jason said grimly. “Night, Alfred.”
But Alfred didn’t wander away, butler duties satisfied. He just ducked inside instead, walking in to stand by Jason’s bed. Jason curled up tighter with the book.
“Master Bruce has instructed me to subtly discover what you want for Christmas. Truthfully, I understand you would prefer that I propose the question more straightforwardly.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t y’all Jewish?”
“Yes, but far as we understand, you are not. Master Bruce wishes to make you feel welcome.” Jason couldn’t repress the quiet little scoff, immediately embarrassing himself, but Alfred just looked lightly amused. He gestured to the bed. “May I sit?”
Jason nodded and mumbled an apology. “We don’t have to do a whole thing ‘cause of me. That’s totally awkward.”
“It will be exactly as big of a thing as you want,” Alfred assured him. “Master Bruce is feeling celebratory regardless. This is Master Tim and Miss Stephanie’s first time coming home from college for winter break, and with our new family member I believe Master Bruce will want to make a to-do regardless.” Somewhat cannily, he added, “I also foresee Miss Stephanie forcing a celebratory event in the name of family bonding.”
There it was. “Does that woman control everything that happens in this house?”
Alfred smiled. “Between her and myself, I daresay so. But Miss Stephanie can often lose sight of other’s feelings in light of her enthusiasm, so I wanted to ask you directly what you wanted. All four of us will do our best to make it happen.”
What Jason wanted?
Jason wanted a lot of things. Jason wanted the whole damn world, frankly. Jason had never lost sight of what he wanted, not once - losing sight meant forgetting to work towards what you wanted. Even if Jason wanted a lot of things he’d never have - well, fire and dreams were the only thing that kept a kid warm in a Gotham winter.
But he couldn’t vocalize any of that. He’d never put any of those desires on his tongue, and he knew they’d stay nestled in his ribcage as long as he lived. What he wanted was no good to anybody but himself, and he wouldn’t devalue them by breathing a word.
Jason had only ever told one person what he really wanted. That had turned out alright. But it had been really scary too. Jason didn’t want to do it again. He didn’t know what he’d do if he heard ‘no’.
Still, everybody in this house was a dog with a bone, and Jason resolved to give a little just to get the man off his back. “A big dinner on the 25th would be nice,” Jason hesitantly volunteered. And he just knew he’d never shake Bruce from the presents thing, so… “If you want to do presents or whatever, we can do them then.”
Alfred beamed, and Jason gave himself a congratulatory handshake. Successful campaign, total victory, no casualties. Some ground lost, but that was a necessary sacrifice. “It is always nice to have an excuse for a large meal. A suitable celebration of our first year together. Splendid idea, Jason.”
A rousing success! “Oh, no hassle at all.”
But Alfred’s expression just softened, and he carefully smoothed the bedspread near Jason. Jason prepared himself for evasive tactics. “Is there anything you’d like to do with Master Tim and Miss Stephanie?” Jason’s poker face must have said it all, because Alfred gave him another steady look. “Would you be interested in spending any quality time with them while they are home?”
“Uh,” Jason said, internally sweating. “If they…want…?”
“Miss Stephanie will likely insist on it. But you should say no to anything that makes you uncomfortable, Master Jason. She’ll back off if you ask.” Alfred gave Jason a steady eye, making him sweat. “If space and quiet is what you need, Master Jason, you need only ask.”
The prospect was appealing, but Jason was far from lowering the fortifications. Those questions were traps. The last thing Jason wanted to be was trouble. “I’m chill, Alfred! It’s no big deal. Just kinda awkward, ya know? Not used to hearing people in the house.”
“That, I can understand. Adopting Master Tim changed a great deal in this manor. Hearing the sound of young footsteps running down the halls. Music blasting from the den. Messes everywhere. It had been a long time. A very welcome change, I believe.”
“Let me guess,” Jason said flatly. “Tim was super quiet and Stephanie was super loud.”
“Naturally.” Alfred stood up, fixing his slacks a little. “I am excited to see what sort of child you will be, Master Jason. I anticipate meeting the true you. When he is ready to meet me. Have a very good night, Master Jason.”
Alfred turned out the lights and closed the door securely behind him. Jason only rose to lock the door with his personal key that he kept under his mattress, like he did every night, and buried himself under the comforters.
The enemy hadn’t penetrated his territory. They’d fired a few potshots, but Jason’s fortifications had held strong. Jason was big, tough, impenetrable. Jason couldn’t be seen or touched. You couldn’t even tell if Jason was there or not - he never emerged from his stronghold, and he planned his strategies and tactics from the safety of his base camp. He was not the sort of general who fought on the front lines.
Jason had thought their goal was to break down his fortifications and overpower his territory. He had assumed them colonizers, trying to take over every inch of Jason’s new life and old heart. He hadn’t known their goal was the general himself. Stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…
*
Today was the day. Huzzah!
Alfred was out picking up Stephanie - apparently her car was still in Jump, so the chauffeur it was - and Jason was left to gawk at Tim thumping away at a laptop in the dining room. He desperately wanted to know if Tim was doing super secret superhero spy stuff, but he couldn’t just ask. Tim never ignored him, but he never paid much attention to him either. The way they both liked it.
Tim routinely spent most of his time in his study (which Jason had never been inside and would never go inside if he could help it - there were probably lasers). The guy never just sat out in the dining room like this and worked his arcane cybermagic. Jason, sitting at the breakfast bar and steadily decimating an apple, felt trapped. How many times could he flee any room Tim walked into before the guy noticed? It was a toss-up - guy either had Bat-eyes and saw everything, or he only gave a shit about his mysterious computer stuff and didn’t notice anything. Jason was willing to put his non-existent money on Tim pretending the latter when it was really the former. He wouldn’t fall for the tricks.
But maybe he did, because when Tim spoke he was so startled that he almost fell off the chair.
“I should warn you about Steph.” Tim didn’t look away from his computer, and his typing didn’t slow. “She’s really a lot. Super pushy. Feel free to tell her to fuck off if you want.” Tim paused a beat, undercut by the keyboard rattling. “Am I supposed to curse in front of middle schoolers?”
“I won’t tell Bruce you cursed in front of a twelve year old,” Jason said, faux-loyally. Truthfully, he had the feeling Bruce would ask the same question, but it was good to cultivate a sense of camaraderie. “And yeah, sure. No problem. Super…excited to…meet. Her.”
“I’m glad it took you two so long to meet. She gave Bruce a really hard time about adopting you. ‘Specially since it was only three months after she left and two months after I did. She said he jumped the gun.” Tim’s fingers froze. “Wait. Did she say it was a good idea or bad idea…?”
That was an important difference, Timothy!
But Jason had no time to interrogate further. The sound of the front doors bursting open resounded through the lobby into the dining room, and Tim bolted to his feet.
“I’m home!” The voice was impressively loud, and Jason was momentarily taken aback by the thick-ass Bowery accent. That was not a Little Miss Perfect accent. “Wow, Alfie, you put the Ming back out!”
“It was finally safe from you,” Alfred said. “Let me take your bags, Miss -”
“Dope, thanks a million -”
“Steph!” Tim called, moving around the table, and Jason saw to his shock that he was smiling. Actually smiling. Like a normal person. “In here!”
And just like that, Stephanie Brown appeared at the doorway. She grinned brightly, and Tim grinned back, and she wasted no time in tackling Tim in a giant bear hug. Jason - regardless of what he wanted, despite how he felt - was struck dumb.
It was Robin. Robin, in the flesh. He hadn’t really put that together before. He knew obviously but it hadn’t really clicked until he saw her. Jason had seen the pictures and videos of her just like everybody else - seen the graffiti and street art and paintings - listened to every story and heard every tale - but apparently he hadn’t processed that Robin meant Stephanie Brown.
Seeing her in person hit differently then seeing Bruce in person. Bruce was an idea given a face - Stephanie Brown was a face larger than life, and the idea of Robin in the body of a woman felt like capturing lightning in a bottle. She was wearing low-rise jeans and a purple crop top stamped with a sparkly butterfly that showed off how insanely muscular she was, hair teased into her iconic Robin mane, and she was really super pretty. How could Robin just look like an undergrad? Why did Robin talk like a valley girl?!
Jason had lost before he accepted the challenge. He had lost from day one. He had lost the day Stephanie Brown became a super-smart, super-tough, blue eyed blonde haired hot white girl. And Jason had lost the day he was born. A homeless, go-nowhere kid who would only leave the Narrows when he inevitably went to jail. A brown kid with curly and thick black hair, skinny with an unpleasant and mean face, fucked up forever.
Why did Jason ever think Bruce might let him…
Stephanie Brown hugged Tim so tightly she picked him off the ground, making him wheeze and slap her shoulder. She only dumped him when footsteps came from another hallway on the other side of the dining room, revealing a smiling Bruce. Smiling. Like a guy.
“Stephanie,” Bruce greeted, somehow stiff as ever. “You look…tanned.”
“Six months and that’s what I get?” Stephanie asked loudly. Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. Bruce abruptly looked panicked. “Tanned? I live in California, Bruce, of course I’m tanned! Like, hello! What, no ‘happy to see you’? No ‘welcome home?’”
“Ah,” Bruce said.
“I bulked up! You don’t even care that I totally bulked up!”
Bruce’s panic deepened. “You said it was rude to comment on a woman’s muscles.”
“Muscles are totally in right now, B, keep up.” But Stephanie grinned, smile big and bright. “I can’t believe I missed you so much.”
Jason could only stare in horror as she hugged Bruce, tight and full, and he gently hugged her back. Defcon 5 event. Bruce didn’t hug. Bruce didn’t hug Jason. Well - Jason had told Bruce that he wasn’t allowed to touch him, ever, or he’d cut his hands off with a butter knife. Bruce had stuck to that rule religiously. Jason didn’t really know how to loosen the rule. He had no idea how to ask.
“He missed you a lot,” Tim snitched, because obviously Bruce wouldn’t. “He missed you so much. It was so embarrassing. I was embarrassed just witnessing it.”
“Say a little less, Timothy.”
Stephanie separated, unabashedly laughing at the embarrassed Batman, when she finally stopped to see Jason. Jason halted, halfway through eating the core of the apple. They locked eye contact, light blue eyes meeting dark ones, and Jason slowly readied the canons.
His throat was dry. His heart was hammering. The apple core was going down all wrong. Jason…
“Stephanie, I can finally introduce Jason.” Suddenly Bruce was there at his side, smiling encouragingly down at the frozen Jason. “Jason, this is Stephanie Brown. She’s a highly valued partner of mine. Stephanie, don’t overwhelm him.”
“Overwhelming? Me? Never heard of her.” Steph smiled at Tim, warm and happy. This woman did not stop smiling. She had a deadass California valley girl accent and she did not stop smiling. She extended a hand to Jason, who silently thanked God that she didn’t go in for a hug. Did they hug people in California? Californians probably did nothing but hug. “Jason Todd, right? I’ve, like, heard so much about you! I’m super sorry it took so long for us to meet.”
Jason quickly wiped his sticky hand on his jeans before shaking her hand, feeling the rough calluses. “It’s Jason Wayne.” They changed his name with his adoption, on Bruce’s hesitant offer and Jason’s instant acceptance. It was a strategic ploy on Jason’s part - a shared last name would subliminally influence Bruce into thinking of their arrangement as a more long-term, legal one. “Uh - nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“A Wayne with manners! I never thought I’d see the day.” Steph propped her hands on her hips, smile never fading. “Bruce and Tim could stand to learn a thing or two from you. But don’t get formal on me, okay? We’re, like, totes family.”
“Cool,” Jason said. “Thanks.”
Casualties: none. Damage to fortress: negligible. Outcome of first skirmish: rousing success. Jason gave himself a fervent pack on the back. Now he’d stay for five more minutes exactly before running back to the library to work on his workbooks. This family was awesome at forgetting Jason was in the room, if he could just flex that invisibility a bit more -
Steph clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the room. As if it wasn’t already entirely on her. Ugh. “You promised pesto sandwiches for lunch, Alfred! I haven’t had your cooking in six whole months and I’m going insane. Let’s eat as Jason tells me all about himself! Oh, and he’ll totally have to tell us what he wants to do over the break. We have so much family bonding in order. Tim, Bruce, are youse still trying to bite each other’s heads off?”
“Uh,” Bruce said.
“We’re over it?” Tim asked, as if Stephanie needed to tell him.
“Good enough. Holiday planning - go! Oh, but I have the craziest Titans story to tell you guys!”
Wow. They weren’t kidding about the forced bonding.
Alfred really went all out with lunch, and from Stephanie’s delighted squeals Jason could see that it was all her favorites. They had done Tim’s favorites when he came home too. Jason wondered when they’d do his favorites. Maybe when he went to college?
College. Hold out for college, Jason. You can make it ‘til college. Maybe Bruce would like him more than Tim by then - Jason wouldn’t try to drop out of Yale.
Jason received the annotated, fast-paced edition of Steph’s life over the next whirlwind twenty minutes. She had something to share about everything - from Jump City weather to how big of a pain it was to do her UC Jump premed college work and lead a superhero team at the same time. She had a mysterious autoimmune illness that let her miss as many classes as she wanted. Very convenient. She and Tim had absolutely no shame in disclosing their rampant lies. Superheroes had no morals.
Apparently Cyborg was super funky - a jock that could work a computer like magic. Beast Boy was a crazy time and a ton of fun to hang out with, even if he was totally immature. Raven was no fun to hang out with but she was, like, so wild. And Starfire - ha ha, she was super cool, anyway! Her college friends were totally nice too, but the Titans just took up so much of her time. Listen to me recount this entire fight with Mad Mod. Who’s Mad Mod, you ask? I am going to tell you all about it!
The whole table was enthralled. Despite himself, Jason was a little enthralled too. He tried imagining living in a big retooled ex-high rise complex that Tim bought on the cheap with Apple money - whatever that meant - with your four friends as you all fought the weirdest crime with no adult supervision. When your friends were half-demons and half-computers and sometimes-animals and always-aliens. He just couldn’t imagine it - it was a lifestyle too alien from his own. Complete with aliens! No wonder she’d been too busy to visit.
“But the Titans can do without me for one month. Vic needs the practice as a leader. I told them that I haven’t seen my boyfriend in six months and not to comm me for anything short of Raven’s dad picking her up for custody weekend. This month is one hundred percent for my friends, the week my old man is gonna make me spend in Louisiana, and you guys.” Stephanie clapped her hands, smiling broadly. “So! Jason, what do you wanna do? Bruce doesn’t know what money is, we can totally do whatever you want. The world is so your oyster. What are you thinking?”
Jason delicately nibbled at his turkey and cheese sandwich. It had no crusts. His life had gotten so dumb. “I dunno. Whatever youse are down for.”
“Come on, there has to be something. When I was your age I would have sold my left foot to go to Disney World. Bruce would be down for anything anywhere in the world. Or we could go shopping!”
“I have clothes?”
“Do you have clothes from the Disney store? Damn, maybe I was just really into Disney when I was your age. What do you like, Jason, what are you into?”
Jason slowly shredded the sandwich with his teeth. “Um…not much.”
“Jason likes to read,” Bruce volunteered, the traitor. “His reading level is amazing. He’s working on 100 Years of Solitude in Spanish.” Jason had finished that a week ago. He was on a Pablo Neruda collection right now. “But I’m not sure how that translates into an activity.”
“What about sports?” Stephanie asked encouragingly. “You play soccer, Jason?”
Jason mumbled a negative into a tea biscuit. The barrage of cannonballs did not stop.
“What about watching any sports? Bruce could get you tickets to anything.”
“I hate sports,” Tim said.
“This isn’t about you, Timmy.”
‘ “Jason obviously doesn’t care about sports either.”
“Jason cares about something. He’s a twelve year old boy, they’re all brainwashed by commercials and jingles.”
“Not Jason. I’ve never seen him express an opinion on anything.”
“Really?” Bruce asked, surprised. A cannon punctured the outer walls. A watchman pulled the alarm bell. All hands on deck. “Jason’s as opinionated as you, Stephanie.”
Jason’s teeth clenched. Man down. His arm had been blown off by a cannonball. He was bleeding everywhere and screaming bloody murder. The poor man had a daughter. Only five years old. Tragic.
“ ‘Course he is, he’s an East Ender! We’re all grit. I couldn’t believe it when you said you made friends with another kid from my neighborhood. After all that complaining about my accent, too! I’m even going kinda Cali in my civvie ID, it’s super fun. ”
“The Mad Hatter asks you to repeat yourself ‘cause he has no idea what you’re saying,” Tim said, bored.
“The Mad Hatter’s a punk bitch. The accent’s part of the Robin brand, it’s my whole hometown hero thing. I’m repping me and Jason’s hoods.”
The outer defenses fell, and the enemy streamed in. Screaming, crying, blood. Alarm bells pounded through Jason’s head. His soldiers were dropping like flies, cannonballs blowing their jaws off, and Jason felt the blood build up inside of him.
That was all Jason had inside of him. Just blood and war. Jason was a brave general who never gave up against the enemy forces, but Jason’s army had been eroded by a long and hard winter that froze most of his men away. The cold had worn parts of Jason down for years, and even when springtime thawed the frost he never saw those parts again. He just couldn’t find them. He was trying so hard to protect himself and Bruce from the blood, but he couldn’t help losing every battle.
“We aren’t from the same hood,” Jason said lowly. A war drum beat in his ears.
Stephanie looked back at him, all wide eyed and innocent and blonde. “Aren’t you an East Ender? I ain’t splitting streets here.”
“You’re from the Bowery,” Jason bit out. “Do I look like I’m from the Bowery? I’m from the Narrows. If I stepped foot in your hood I’d get hate crimed.”
“Ah. Yeah.” Stephanie sombered, putting her sandwich down. “Sorry, kid, I know it’s not the same. Like to think we’re not as bad as we used to be, though.”
“Cool. Awesome. I’ll give your racist-ass Ukranians the ‘not as hate crimey as you could have been’ award.” Jason pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, probably skidding the nice hardwood. “Maybe it’ll finally make up for me not being Doctor fucking Barbie over there.”
Jason ran away from the carved oak dining table sagging with teas and cakes and ices at top speed. Catastrophic defeat. Blame the general’s tactical mistakes. It was all his fault.
He preemptively grounded himself, locking the door to his room and burying himself underneath the covers with a defensive Narnia. When he started hyperventilating he ignored it, and when he cried a little he ignored that too. Jason was super good at ignoring things. He ignored just about everything.
Jason noticed everything. He just ignored it. He’d go crazy if he didn’t. All the shit in the world, all the evils he saw again and again and again. Every woman ever hit and every Mami sliding a needle into her arm. All the bad guys hurting the guys who ain’t never hurt nobody, just ‘cause they were there…
Jason did want something. He wanted something so damn bad, and he knew he would never ask for it. He wasn’t in the same galaxy as good enough, and there was no point in asking for something you’d never get. Bruce would probably laugh at him if he ever did ask. It didn’t matter that Jason couldn’t ignore bad things happening for one more second, for one more time - it didn’t matter that Jason wanted to do something about it more than anybody in the Narrows had ever wanted it in their whole lives. Jason was the whole damn problem.
He was so embarrassed. His war of attrition hadn’t lasted five seconds. His good streak had been ruined and Bruce was gonna get so pissed at him for being awful. And Bruce and Tim would get mad at him for being rude to Stephanie, and Stephanie probably didn’t feel anger ‘cause she was a saint but Alfred would look so disappointed in him and…
Maybe he should just dip. No, that was stupid. It was literally December. Bruce would give him a hard time but he’d deal with that. Guy wasn’t about to hit him. He was Batman. Batman didn’t do that. End sentence, end of story.
Batman didn’t hurt kids and Robin always made kids feel safe. Everybody knew that. Even though Stephanie Brown wasn’t making Jason feel too safe right now. But he knew that was his fault - a fault inherent in his own character, in his own heart - and not hers. Jason couldn’t remember what feeling safe felt like. He probably wasn’t sure how anymore.
Nobody came to fetch him or try to talk to him. Jason didn’t know if he was disappointed or not. He just aggressively read and read and read, until the first hints of winter dusk began to fall and he fell asleep much earlier than usual.
*
Bruce liked to tell the story.
He didn’t get a ton of opportunities, since he had to limit himself to people who knew his secret identity. In practicality, this meant that Bruce liked telling the story to his six friends in the Justice League and nobody else. Barry Allen said that Bruce had smiled while telling the story, which had given him a split second heart attack.
It wasn’t the full story. Jason couldn’t imagine that being the full story - plucky street rat tries to steal the Batman’s tires, the Batman takes pity on him and takes him home forever to live in his house and eat his organic cucumbers, happy ending for everybody. What kind of story was that? Jason would have yelled pedophile in two seconds. Stephanie would have berated Bruce for three hours instead of one.
Bruce didn’t mention this part of the story, but the minute Jason’s retaliatory attack with the lead pipe utterly failed he had dropped his weapon and booked it. Jason hadn’t exactly been terrified, but he knew getting caught would mean serious juvie. Worst case scenario, besides all the others. But he had worried his hair out for nothing - Jason ran ten blocks before realizing that Batman wasn’t chasing him at all. A clean escape.
Batman showed up at Jason’s squat the next night. Go fig.
That was the first time they really talked. Batman wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, but Jason had a unique skill for riling Bruce up into an actual argument, and they spent ten pointless minutes going around at each other about how Jason totally had people he was staying with - they’re on vacations, that’s why I’m not staying with them - fine, their pimp had come back and kicked him out - but I stayed with Mrs. Jiminez for three weeks! - well, her son got whooping cough, and I sure as hell couldn’t stick around to catch it - I’ll go back once he’s better, that’s all - yes, obviously I hit up the Church food banks, but you’re more likely to get mugged for food than actually walk away with food, and they prioritize the moms anyway - I don’t need goddamn foster care -
“You can’t keep couch surfing forever,” Batman had said. “You’re spending weeks on the street in-between shelters and friends. It’s not stable.”
“But it’s fine,” Jason had said. He knew it wasn’t great, but things didn’t need to be great when they could be fine. “The Narrows looks out for each other. I’ll just keep like this ‘til I’m old enough for a decent job, that’s all.”
Completely neutrally, Batman had said, “You could drug run.”
“This is entrapment.”
“You could have. You’re the right age for it. Why aren’t you doing that for money?”
“Because I’m not an idiot! That shit shortens your lifespan and lands you in juvie. And I don’t wanna help assholes sell meth to my friends, anyway. Bad enough they’re doing it. I don’t wanna be responsible for that, even a little. Life’s too bad for me to make it worse just for some extra cash.”
Batman had stared at him for a long time. Jason had decided he had won the argument, and thereby had obtained bragging rights forever that he had won an argument with Batman.
Then Batman put him in a foster home. Go fig.
Everybody knew social services was insanely evil and terrible, but Batman had spun half a dozen promises about how he’d personally assure that Jason found a good placement. Apparently he even put in a word with his contact at social services and everything. It landed Jason in a super awesome combo group home/boarding school (See, Jason, an education! Yipee!) under the benevolent hand of a sweet old lady called Ma Gunn. Look, Jason, if you’re so worried, the Batman will take time out of his busy schedule Being Batman to check up on you. Alright? Eat some cookies.
The first day had been fine. Nice, even. That was what he told Batman. He really had come to check up on him, knocking on his window in the middle of the night and helping hoist Jason to the roof so they could sit and talk. He had kept his promise.
“This doesn’t make you right,” Jason had grumbled.
Batman’s lip had twitched upwards. “I have it on good authority that I’m not right nearly as often as I think I am.”
“Atticus Finch you are not,” Jason agreed. “More like Odysseus.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because you know how to beat up mooks, but you obviously like winning your fights through tricking people instead. You’re both, like, theatrical.” Jason had thought about this. Extensively. He’d also gotten into arguments about it, but they were really arguments nobody else wanted to have. “And taking on crime in Gotham’s like taking on the gods. Equal amounts of impossible.”
Batman’s lip twitched up again, a little higher. “Would you call pride my fatal flaw, then?”
“Probably,” Jason said promptly. “You need a lot of pride to take on the gods. But that’s probably the only reason you started doing this at all, so I guess it’s a pretty good thing you have that fatal flaw in the first place. The best fatal flaws are the character’s greatest strengths. That’s when a story is really good.”
Batman slowly sat down next to Jason. It was pretty weird seeing him like that - sitting down like a guy, cape carefully tucked to his side like any theater performer would do it. Jason could see his jawline. He needed a shave. Batman, shaving! Jason wished he could shave. Maybe he’d be more like Batman if he could.
“What’s your fatal flaw, Jason?”
“Mami always told me I was too angry.” It was one of his clearest memories of her - the disappointment on her face. The way she looked at him. Jason never wanted Mami to look at him like that again. “Too much like my dad. She said I’m gonna lose my temper at the wrong person and get myself hurt one day.” Jason scuffed a battered shoe on the wobbly shingle, making it creak. “But I dunno. The only times in my life I’ve ever really helped people was when I got too angry to see straight. I’m always throwing logic out the door and deciding to do what’s right even if it’s a bad idea. If the trouble I’m always getting into helps other people out, then that’s trouble I’m okay with. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do.”
Jason had the feeling he would.
They talked for hours, long after Jason’s bedtime and probably long into Batman’s own work schedule beating up mooks. They only stopped when Jason couldn’t repress the yawns anymore, and Batman ended up carrying Jason back to bed. Jason had insisted he wasn’t tired, mostly because he wanted to keep talking about Emma and how Jason’s life dream was to be rich and set up all his friends with boyfriends who deserved them, but he fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow anyway
When he woke up the next morning he thought it might have been a dream. What a weird dream that would be. What a weird and magical dream - one where Batman listened to everything Jason had to say and more, and one where Batman only left him because they couldn’t stay up talking any more. Jason hated himself a little for falling asleep at all. He wanted that night to go on forever. Now that he was in a nice little boarding school he would never see Batman again. For such an obvious sentence it was a little disappointing.
Two weeks later Jason stood in front of a burning brick building, flanked by a mob of rabid children, tying up an evil old lady and cracking open crate after crate of evil child brainwashing drug and dumping it on the cement sidewalk.
The police found him very quickly. They didn’t listen to a word he said, no matter how much proof Jason waved in their faces. He had been super careful to dig up a ton of proof, even taking pictures of the secret basement and the kid’s bruises and an audio recorded confession. Nobody wanted to hear it. Jason had to bite his way through a police station and dump his evidence on the Commissioner's desk just to get anything done around here.
The Commissioner had pinched the bridge of his nose. The bridge of his nose had thumbnail creases. “Kid, you just committed five different felonies.”
“She was brainwashing children!”
“I believe you, kid, I believe you.” Commissioner Gordon grabbed the first sheaf of pictures, flipping through them quickly and squinting at each one. Under his breath, he muttered, “Never thought I’d miss Robin. She’d know what the hell to do with you.”
“Is Robin dead?” Jason asked, freaked. He loved Robin. She was literally Robin!
“What? No, she’s off doing…Batman never said. Either ninja training or college, it’s a toss-up. I think she cried when she hugged me goodbye, I couldn’t believe -”
The landline on the desk rang, and the Commissioner obviously intended to ignore it until he saw the flashing ‘Priority’ button. He picked up the headset, bushy mustache wagging. “Andrea, what - Jesus Christ! How the hell did you - dumb question, never mind.”
Jason perked up. Something told him… “Is that Batman? Is Batman calling you on your phone?”
“Do you see a Gordon signal?” The Commissioner asked him. Jason shrugged, and the Commissioner turned his attention back to the phone. His eyebrows furrowed closer and closer at Batman talked. “Already? What do you - I can drop the charges, but that black mark on his file isn’t going away.” He grimaced apologetically at Jason. Jason, who had no intention of returning to Social Services ever again, shrugged. “He’ll probably have to spend the night in the cells until we drop the charges and find him an emergency placement, but - you can’t be serious.” He was silent for a long moment before exclaiming, “What kind of favor does he owe you - how big is that favor? You can’t be - it’s three in the morning, I - Batman! Batman! Dammit!”
The Commissioner dropped the headset back on the cradle and groaned, falling back into his seat. Jason cautiously sidled backwards from the desk. He was prepared to do a runner. He’d bitten his way into this office and he’d bite his way out.
“Kid, you sit right down in that chair. You are not moving until your emergency foster placement comes to get you.” The Commissioner kneaded his forehead, groaning. “Out of all the favors for all the Gothamites, why did it have to be this one…”
“Eh?” Jason said.
“You’re a very lucky kid, Jason Todd. And I’m praying for you.”
“Eh?”
It was the only appropriate response. Jason found out an hour later that the emergency placement was Bruce fucking Wayne. Bruce Wayne, who practically crashed into Gordon’s (he had been downgraded - Jason and Gordon were homies in Christ now) office, tie half-done and suit jacket limp over his shoulders. Jason wondered who the hell put on a suit at three am. He also wondered who the hell looked that panicked to be dealing with Jason, of all people. Had he heard about the biting?
“I’m so sorry I’m late, I’ve been having a heart attack for the past hour - you ever get woken up by Batman, Jim? That ever happen to you? How’d he even get my number?” Gordon opened his mouth. “Stupid question, sorry. Is that the kid? Hey, kid!”
Then Bruce Wayne grinned, big and anxious, and held out his hand. Jason shook it. Bruce sat down in the chair next to him, slouching and tucking himself into the chair a bit. It was pretty slick - Jason almost hadn’t noticed how freaking huge the guy was.
“Uh,” Jason said. “It’s Jason Todd.”
“Well, Batman could have stood to mention that!” Bruce Wayne exclaimed, offended beyond belief. “You know what he told me? He called me up and was all like - you remember the Rose Bowl? Yes, I remember the Rose Bowl, hard to forget - and then he’s like, I’m calling that in. He’s all like, you’re still registered as a foster parent, right? And of course I am, after that whole thing with Tim - Tim’s doing great, Jim, by the way, I would say that he says hello but we kinda aren’t talking right now, but he would say hello if we were talking - which Batman knows about, because he was the one who called me up about Tim in the first place - why me, Jim! Why is it always me!”
“I cannot possibly say,” Gordon said.
Bruce barrelled through, ignoring him. “So he tells me to get here pronto, there’s a kid who needs a roof over their head and apparently I’m the only one he trusts to provide that roof right now. Me! Can you believe it! He said the same thing about Tim! The kid could have had the mob after him - actually, it’s kind of common knowledge I don’t touch the mob, that’s probably why - none of that’s important right now. Oh, and then he hung up on me. Go figure, right? Have you eaten, Jason? I brought you lunch. And some hygiene stuff and a change of clothes. The butler fusses.”
Jason stared at Bruce. Bruce smiled anxiously at Jason.
“No hablo inglés,” Jason decided.
Without changing his facial expression at all, Bruce repeated the last few sentences in Spanish.
“Hindi ako nagsasalita ng ingles,” Jason rapidly made up.
Bruce repeated the last few sentences in Tagalog, poker faced.
“What the fuck,” Jason said.
“Rúguǒ nǐ yuànyì dehuà, wǒ yě huì shuō zhōngwén,” Bruce said, still smiling. “Dàn wǒ hěn quèdìng nǐ de yīngyǔ hěn hǎo, suǒyǐ rúguǒ nǐ yuànyì, wǒmen kěyǐ jìxù shuō yīngyǔ.”
Jason felt his psychological control over the situation slipping away. He had to maintain the upper hand. Establish dominance over rich people. “I’m a gutter child, my English is terrible,” Jason lied in Spanish, completely unapologetic. “If you make me speak English I’m gonna rack up more arson charges.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable, Jason!” Bruce said in Spanish. He turned to Gordon, switching to English. “There’s a lot of papers to sign, right? Just give them to me right now. Actually, can I duck out and grab Jason’s food first? Faking monolingualism takes a lot out of a kid.”
The food was good. It was super fancy rich people sandwiches. Bruce said that one of them had pesto before explaining what pesto was before Jason had to ask. Thoughtful of him?
That was roughly how Jason ended up in the passenger seat of a Porsche, nibbling his third sandwich and staring at the man in the driver’s seat. Gordon had muttered something about how Bruce was “as neurotic and awkward as ever” before giving Jason his business card and telling him to call before set another building on fire. Jason could definitely see the neuroticism: he went over the emergency foster placement papers once, twice, three times. He had detailed to Jason in completely fluent Spanish what exactly was going to happen the next few days and what he could expect, that he was going to get a key for his room and nobody would go inside if he didn’t want them inside, do you have any rules for me and Alfred (the butler - what was this, the Prohibition?) that you’d like us to follow? We can talk about my own later. Understood about touching you, thanks for telling me.
Jason watched Bruce drop the papers in his lap and slowly thunk his forehead on the steering wheel. His index finger was tapping the leather cover repeatedly in a steady staccato, a silent nervous tic.
Eventually Jason felt too bad for him to bear the silence any longer. In Spanish, he said, “Chill, man. It’s just for a few days, right?”
Bruce raised his head, glaring intently at the steering wheel. He still seemed a little half-manic. “Right. Just a few days. Then we’ll find you a good placement. I know people. It’ll be fine.”
“Oh, I am totally booking it,” Jason said sympathetically. “Nice try, though.”
“Jason, please stop trying to sleep on the sidewalk.”
“Why not?” Jason demanded. “It’s better than foster care. How am I supposed to believe that you’d find decent people, huh? Batman said he’d find decent people and he dumped me in an evil crime boarding school!”
Weirdly enough, that made Bruce outright wince. “Batman fu - Batman messed up. He really, really messed up. There is no excuse for how badly he messed up. Alright? But that’s not happening again. We’ll -”
“Who the hell would take me?” Jason asked, and Bruce quieted. “Who would want me, dude? Nobody in this goddamn city wants me around. I had to do something about that crazy old lady before she started baking kids into pies or something, and now I’m legally an arsonist. And if I meet any more evil people messing with kids then I’d do an arson on them too. I’d do a thousand arsons if I had to! Why the hell would anybody want me in their house?”
“Who wouldn’t!” Bruce cried, and Jason fell silent in bizarre shock. “You - you’re smart and passionate and kind. You took down an entire drug smuggling ring by yourself, Jason, that’s incredible. You’re a good kid. You’re a really good kid. Any parent would be lucky to have you.”
Jason’s eyes were burning, and his stomach was churning in thick knots. He was tired and confused and far away from home - far away from everything he had once considered home, and from everything he knew. He was in unprecedented territory. In a Porsche. As some rich guy told him he was a good kid.
“How would you know, huh?” Jason asked, voice thick. “I’ve never met you before in my life. How would you know something like that?”
“It’s obvious, Jason,” Bruce said quietly. “It’s obvious just looking at you.”
Jason stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and refused to say anything more.
An emergency placement. Bruce Wayne said the phrase frequently, almost as a shield - against a very unimpressed butler, during a very heated phone call which left him wincing repeatedly. It’s an emergency placement, I’m not - this has nothing to do with - not everything is about you, you know - it’s not about Tim either! - it’s an emergency placement -
When he hung up he looked haunted. Jason gave him a sympathy banana.
“That your girlfriend?”
Bruce took the banana, dead eyed. “It’s somebody who you do not want to get on the bad side of.”
“You on her bad side?”
“I might be in the dog house.”
“Ouch.” Jason started unwrapping his own banana, carefully peeling off the strings and dangling them into his mouth. “Hey, you ever read The Fellowship of the Ring? I heard they’re making a live action movie.”
“How on Earth are you supposed to capture the scale of Lord of the Rings in a live action movie?” Bruce asked, appalled. “It’ll be worse than that cartoon I saw as a kid.”
“There was a cartoon? Can we watch it?”
“Sure,” Bruce said. “I don’t have anything else to do right now.”
Even back then Jason knew it was a lie. He didn’t say anything about it. When Bruce took his big stack of scary CEO papers and sat next to Jason in the library, signing papers with a ballpoint pen silently as Jason read East of Eden, Jason didn’t say anything about that either. It always ended up with Bruce getting distracted and asking him about what was happening in the book, and then they would both get distracted as Jason explained the Biblical allegories, and the work would go forgotten.
He should do his work on time. Guy was always super tired every morning. Jason got in the habit of secretly making him extra-strength coffee and slipping him a big mug when Alfred turned his back. Bruce almost cried the first time he did it. Jason leveraged the gratitude to score free reign in the attic and upper floors.
That made for an incredible day of digging through heaps and heaps of boxes shoved away in dusty corners, digging his hands into antique World War II memorabilia and 19th century pocketwatches. Every box held the fragments of a dozen stories, and Jason eagerly took notes whenever a new object sparked a new idea.
This Vietnam soldier’s helmet obviously belonged to a brave soldier who died trying to save innocents during the My Lai massacre…some say that his ghost haunted the perpetrators until their dying breaths and cursed their family lines for a hundred generations. That cuckoo clock was obviously a gift from a baron to a baroness, aching for her love - but she had promised her hand to the baron’s brother, a humble watchmaker born out of wedlock. He made that antique gold pocketwatch stuffed in the bottom of the box, obviously.
He only got a little embarrassed about the whole thing when Bruce asked at dinner where he had gotten the inspiration pocketwatch stuffed in his jeans. He had no idea how to explain how important it was for literary purposes. But Bruce just listened seriously to the story of the baron, the baroness, and the peasant watchmaker. Then he asked if the enamel birds in the watchface had some sort of symbolic meaning between the watchmaker and the baroness, and of course they did, and Bruce listened to everything he had to say for hours on hours.
Jason meant to book it his second night there. But he got distracted staying up reading, and he slept past his escape window. The night after that he didn’t feel like it, and the night after that it was raining way too hard. The night after that Jason didn’t think about it at all.
On the seventh night in Bruce’s house, Jason heard a tapping on the window. His heart leapt, and he eagerly threw off the covers. There was a dark shadow shrouded over his window, and he eagerly unlatched it and worked the creaky wood open until he could shove it all the way to the top and see Batman hanging out on the windowsill, cool as you please.
“I thought you weren’t coming!” Jason cried, backing up a little in an attempt to give Batman space to swoop inside. He didn’t - he just stayed at the window, expression unreadable in the black night. “After everything that happened you aren’t bothering to check in on me again?”
“I trust Wayne. And I’ve been occupied.” Batman withdrew a file folder from his cape - what, did it have a kangaroo pouch or something? - and passed it to Jason. He flipped it open, squinting at the small text in the darkness. “Dossier of potential foster parents. Most of them are same-sex couples who are being stonewalled for regular adoption. Normal, middle class couples. One couple are both Mexican, and another couple is a Black woman and a South Asian woman. If you’d prefer…same race.” Batman paused, suddenly a bit awkward. “Are any of those the same race as you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Jason did not know. Mami spoke Spanish and that was all he knew. He didn’t look anything like her. Jason was a bit lighter than Dad and had different hair, and Dad had Indian reservation stories from his dad. Scary ones. That was all he knew about that too. The de la Cruces down the hall, who had half-raised him, were certain he was mostly Filipino. They were the first ones to blame for the rampant Taglish, and the Mendezes on the second floor who also half-raised him were to blame for the Spanglish. The foul mouth was all Todd.
Sometimes it left him kind of confused about himself - like he was a lot of things that he wasn’t and some things that he was. That there were a few things that he should be but was not. That there were some things he could never be even if he wanted to. He had a lot missing that everybody else he knew just took for granted - but you could say that about a lot of things in Jason’s life.
Every family in the dossier looked good. A lot of them were lesbian couples. That was really appealing. Not a single man but Jason in the house. No need to worry about anybody. Nobody to protect anybody from.
Somehow, Jason found himself saying, “Are these emergency placements too?”
“They’d be permanent. If you find no cause to burn down the house.”
“And what if I run away?”
“We’ll find something else,” Batman said. “We’ll keep trying.”
Middle class lesbians in the suburbs. People who’d speak Spanish or Tagalog with him. People who’d stay. It was a nice thought.
When Jason spoke his throat was dry. He didn’t really know why. Maybe he just didn’t want to know. “Bruce said he’d see Fellowship with me when it came out.”
“You can still do that,” Batman said instantly. “Wayne would keep up contact with you. If that’s what you want.” Batman halted hard before saying, “Is Wayne - satisfactory? As a guardian?”
“He’s not exactly an option,” Jason said, ticked off.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Why did you ask it?”
“Call it curiosity.”
“What good does curiosity do?” Jason asked. Man, Batman could be so frustrating. New sentences. “He’s an emergency placement. He’s said it, like, ten times. Nobody’s going to let me stay with the top bajillionaire of Gotham. He only adopted that other kid ‘cause they were neighbors and family friends already. Bruce and I aren’t in the same universe.”
“If you could.” Batman was still perched on his windowsill, a long streak of night in the already absolute darkness. Nothing like the city. Night descended in the suburbs. The city never slept, and Batman never seemed so far away. “If anything was possible. And if you could have anything you wanted. What would you choose, Jason?”
Jason was silent for a long second, but in the end it wasn’t so hard to say. Moments with Batman never felt quite real, and Jason always found himself letting his guard down. He could tell Batman his heart’s desire - something he could barely even admit to himself.
Finally, Jason had to say, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever said in my life. But he’s kind of like me, you know? I’ve never met anybody else like me before. Especially not in a mansion in Bristol. Isn’t that weird?” Jason paused, weird and uncertain. He felt new. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t want any of it. I’ve just never met anybody who thought the same way I do. It’s kinda dumb that we’re so similar…I dunno if I’m ever gonna find that again. I don’t want to ditch it, you know…isn’t that dumb? It’s dumb of me, right?”
Batman was silent for a long second, just long enough to embarrass Jason. Way to go off about how you’re BFFs with a billionaire, Jase. He definitely sounded like he just wanted the money. Like, hello! The money was what made things weird! He would rather they all live in a normal house that still had a butler for some reason. Less walking and better heating. Definitely less ghosts. What would Jason do with a mansion, anyway?
Batman didn’t say anything. He just gestured for Jason to move back a little, and once Jason scrambled back a few steps he effortlessly slid through the window into Jason’s guest bedroom. Jason had never really stood in the same room as Batman - all of their rendezvous were always outside - and it gave him a subtly different air. Less like a byproduct of natural and mystical forces and more like a guy. It fit better.
“He doesn’t fit the profile of your ideal placement.”
Weird fucking sentences from Batman today. “People aren’t profiles,” Jason said, baffled. “What am I, Robocop?”
“He’s almost completely inexperienced with actual parenting. You’d probably need somebody better suited to helping you process your life so far.”
“I’m pretty inexperienced with being parented, so we’d be even.” Jason was growing more and more confused. But something else was rising in him too - the exact opposite of confusion, small and strange and persistent. He didn’t want to look too closely at it, but he couldn’t turn away. “And I dunno who’d be perfect at dealing with a fuck-up like me. You know ‘em?”
“There has to be somebody.”
“I don’t want to live with somebody,” Jason cried, “I want to live with Bruce! I’m not saying he’d be perfect, but I want to give him a shot. He’s a good guy!”
“You don’t know him well.”
“I can tell just by looking at him,” Jason said. “I dunno what he wants, Batman. Or if he wants me here or not. But I can tell he’s a good person. Can’t you?”
Batman was silent. He was hard to see in the dark, nothing but an outline and smear of black amidst the empty bookshelf and creaky window, and impossible to read. But Jason could feel something in the darkness, something clearer and clearer, and he didn’t need to see it to believe it.
“Can you turn on the light, Jason?”
Jason silently turned around and walked across the room to the door, flipping the lightswitch and blinking hard as bright white light chased away the shadows. He turned around slowly, heart thumping a hard rhythm in his chest, breath catching.
But there had been no reason to be scared. He saw exactly what he had expected.
Bruce Wayne stood in his bedroom, cowl pulled down. His eyes were rimmed with thick purple bags, and even though his face was implacable stone there was something tight and fragile about the way he stood, like a glass ornament spinning on a Christmas tree.
“If Bruce Wayne could have anything he wanted,” Bruce rasped, “he would want you to stay. He would like that very much.”
Hot tears pricked at Jason’s eyes, and he knew his heart was burning. He knew Bruce was searching for something in his own face - shock, betrayal, confusion - but he knew Bruce couldn’t find it. Jason mostly just felt kind of overwhelmed. His life had gotten super dumb.
“Bruce Wayne’s a rich asshole who always gets everything he wants. What the hell do I care about that!”
“I’ve never met anybody else like me either,” Bruce said, and for the first time he was calm and sure - as if he’d come to a resolution in the last few seconds, at some invisible tipping point, and there was no turning back now. “Kids like you are one in a million, Jason. I’d hate to let that go.”
Ugh. Ugh! This sucked! This was so embarrassing! Jason wasn’t going to cry! He rubbed hard at his nose, reiterating his point that he was not gonna cry. Teenage boys didn’t do stupid shit like that.
“I’ll burn down your house if I have to,” Jason warned.
“I would probably deserve it.”
“You’ll have to get your act together.”
“I’ve been meaning to get around to it,” Bruce said, straight faced.
“We aren’t that similar,” Jason insisted, feeling the need to save face for some reason. Batman saying that you were like a mini Batman should have put any kid over the moon. But Bruce Wayne was kind of embarrassing. Miss Jason with that rich boy shit. “Your teeth are too good and you’re super neurotic.”
“Just around children,” the Dark Knight said seriously. “It’s a weakness.”
“I am your second foster placement.”
“If your first exposure to children as an adult were Tim and Stephanie as middle schoolers you would also be frightened of children.”
“Are you calling the Narrows orphan the least scary child you’ve dragged in here?” Jason paused a beat. “Wait. Who’s Stephanie?”
The beginning of the end, mostly. But Jason had no way of knowing that at the time.
*
Jason did not take evasive action.
That would imply he was avoiding anybody. A retreat. But that was far from the situation. The terrain (Wayne manor, for those following along at home) was an ideal site to take cover from the enemy, and that was exactly what he was doing. If they found Jason in the library then obviously he wasn’t hiding from everybody else.
That would imply he was scared of anybody. Jason was not scared of anything. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word, despite all of the other words he knew the meanings of. An enemy thinking you were scared (erroneously!) was a weapon in their hands.
Man, Jason really couldn’t wait until Stephanie and Tim left. He missed Bruce. Jason-and-Bruce, specifically - when Bruce let him read old Batman case reports and they talked for ages about the mistakes made by the bad guy, the cops or the city, Bruce, and Stephanie, and how to avoid making them next time. It was kind of fascinating watching the sheer quantity of mistakes Stephanie made in her first and second years as Robin before they quickly began to taper off into the stupidly competent vigilante everybody knew she was. It was downright funny how many mistakes Batman made. Less than Stephanie by far but still super noticeable in hindsight. Jason knew that the Batman-and-Robin perfection had been a bluff.
Bruce hadn’t taken him to the Zen garden in the museum district for ages. Yeah, it was winter, but Jason wanted to feed the koi. He hadn’t exactly asked to go, but what if Bruce was too busy and said no? It’d be super embarrassing.
Max embarrassment would be Bruce thinking he was scared. He might think Jason was a coward. Imagine Batman thinking you’re a coward. Other kids didn’t have this problem. If their parents thought they were lame then they were probably lame parents. If Batman thought you were lame then that said something about your character.
Jason set up camp in the library, but he couldn’t really focus on his books. He even lowered himself to check out the shelf of comics and manga (did Bruce buy Stephanie Sailor Moon? All of Sailor Moon!?), but after four volumes of Sailor Moon he was too restless to keep reading.
A sticky note was used as a bookmark halfway through volume three. It read: GEOMETRY PROBLEMS 1-10; PIAGET BOOK; PARTY DRESS - LAVENDER; MAKE TIM GO OUTSIDE (DATE?)(BRUCE →?)
Ugh. He was reading her Sailor Moon. Whatever, it was Wayne Sailor Moon now. Jason didn’t know what Stephanie was doing with the foundations of child psychology, but he didn’t want to find out.
The only times Jason outright asked Bruce if they could go outside and have fun was when he noticed Bruce hadn’t really gone outside and had fun in a while. He did not like sharing this trait. But that was mostly because Jason got kind of shy about asking for things, and he could only really summon up the grit if it was for the other person’s own good. Who spent so much time and energy on other people’s Vitamin D? She was obviously busy enough. Had she done all the emotional labor? No wonder everybody acted like she was in charge - they couldn’t really be bothered to do her ‘job’ themselves.
Jason was not Stephanie Brown. He quietly resolved not to go above and beyond doing emotional labor for Bruce. It wasn’t the kid’s job to take care of the parent. Stephanie was his partner, she could do that all she wanted. Jason wondered if she was a partner before she was a kid.
The library had a computer, a stocky PC with a chunky mouse and keyboard attached. A big tower sat next to it, and there was a little binder leaning against the side. Jason had always avoided the computer out of obscure fear and confusion, but he found himself reassessing now. He used to hang out in internet cafes. He’d seen people use computers, even if he’d barely touched one himself. He could figure it out, right?
Turned out the hardest part was looking for the letters on the keyboard. It took a few minutes, but figuring out the mouse and the menus were pretty easy. He wiggled his mouse around the Windows XP, pressing on a little picture of a spiky ball and opening up a game called Minesweeper. He messed around with it for a while, but he couldn’t really figure out the rules, so he quickly closed it out.
He considered clicking on the ‘N’ picture and using the internet. The last time he’d used a computer was to check the internet - he had asked Bruce to search the news to see what people were saying about his adoption. He quickly regretted it. Jason didn’t really want to go on the internet again.
On impulse, Jason grabbed the binder leaning on the computer tower and opened it. He was surprised to see that it was full of CDs, tucked neatly inside sleeve after sleeve. He flipped through the binder, the sheer quantity of CDs shocking him. He had no idea rich people loved computer games so much!
Jason picked out the first CD he saw with people on it - The Sims - and fed it into the computer. He wiggled the mouse impatiently as the screen froze for a few seconds before it went dark. Just when he thought he’d broken it the screen lit up again, showing a menu and blasting a jazzy tune through the speakers.
You could make your own people? You could build them a house and make them get married? You could make them cheat on each other? This was like writing a story, but if the characters could move themselves around and start beating each other up. This was great. Jason wished he’d had a computer way earlier.
The weak winter sunlight shining through the windows dimmed, and eventually extinguished itself completely. Jason, wrapped up in discovering the easiest ways to murder your own Sims to facilitate a Hamlet-esque plotline (the key was a swimming pool and a deleted ladder), didn’t notice until he heard the echo of footsteps down the aisle. He frantically tried to close his book before remembering he was using a computer, and he wasted precious moments trying to figure out how to do the computer equivalent of closing your book before realizing it was too late.
“Alfred says it’s time to wash up for dinner.” Unsaid: you did not skip dinner. Jason ‘Malnourishment’ Wayne did not skip anything, under literal doctor orders.
Jason startled, looking around the library for the first time and realizing that hours had passed. He hadn’t even noticed. Tim walked forward, moving to stand a few feet behind Jason. Bruce had given him the personal space talk. Saved Jason the effort.
“Sorry,” Jason said, half-defensively. “Lost track of time.”
“Yeah, Bruce said you normally weren’t in here for so long.” Tim squinted at the computer monitor, watching Bella Goth cry at her abandoned wedding altar as her ex-fiance ran away with his mistress. “Is that my old copy of the Sims?”
“What, do you want it back?” Jason snapped.
“I only really played Sim City and Civ. Do you hate me?”
Jason choked on his spit, the sheer whiplash sending his head spinning. Tim just blinked at him, expression neutral and posture loose with his arms folded against his chest. He said it like he was asking if Jason preferred cheese or pepperoni. As if he didn’t give two shits about the answer.
“Of course I don’t hate you!” Jason cried, solely on reflex. Tim squinted dubiously, silently asking if he had said that solely on reflex. “I mean - look, man, we ain’t beefing! We’re cool!”
“You refuse to be in the same room as me.” Tim didn’t seem particularly offended by this. “It’s fine if you do. I just think Bruce wants to know.”
“I don’t! Jeez, who just asks that! Who’s gonna say ‘yeah, I hate you!’. Just take a hint or something!”
“Sorry,” Tim said, not sounding altogether that apologetic. “I don’t like beating around the bush on things. Steph says I’m straightforward. You aren’t. If there’s a miscommunication we ought to clear it up.”
God. He was worse than Bruce. Jason didn’t know that was possible. He rolled his eyes, going back to his game and refusing to look at Tim. It made the whole conversation a lot easier. He made Bella go flirt with the neighbor, just to help her feel something. “There’s no miscommunication. We talked about this ages ago. Remember? I asked if it was cool that I was playing your video games, you said you didn’t live here so it was whatever? There was an understanding, dude.”
Judging by Tim’s face he didn’t remember that at all, and he may in fact not actually understand, but that wasn’t Jason’s problem. Tim’s terrible memory was his own fault. “Sure. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Bella Goth was rejected. Her snotty tears grossed out the other Sim. The realism in this game was off the chain.“I answered your question. I don’t hate you. Can you drop this? I know you’re only bugging me ‘cause Steph told you to.”
“She told me to leave you be, actually. I honestly have no idea where she is right now.” So he had gone rogue. Great. “She told me months ago that you were probably avoiding me because you were worried that I would make Bruce kick you out or something. I thought you wanted some space to figure out the reality of the situation on your own, but I guess you didn’t. Maybe I should have said something.”
Frankly, Jason couldn’t believe that Tim had strung five thoughts together regarding Jason at all. “And what would you have said, huh?” Jason asked. He couldn’t muster the energy to be polite or diffuse or distract anymore. He was just kind of tired. Life couldn’t be a war on all fronts. It wore you down too far. “You’re such a big fat genius. What would you have said to make me feel better and convince me that you aren’t a threat?”
“I used to blow up buildings.”
Jason stared at Tim. Tim stared at him.
“Uh,” Jason said.
“Can I sit down?”
Jason dumbly nodded. Tim shrugged and sat down next to him, keeping the careful foot of distance between them. Sitting closer like this, Jason could see the bags under his eyes and tired lines around his mouth clearly. A guy that young shouldn’t have frown lines.
“I won’t go into it,” Tim continued, even and easy. “It’s not really a time in my life I like to remember. It was only a few months after the mob gunned down my parents and I came to live with Bruce.” Jason’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help sucking in a breath. Tim looked distantly amused. “You don’t remember? It was big news five years ago.”
“I was, like, seven. I wasn’t really watching the news.” But it did sound pretty familiar. Tim had to have been Jason’s age. The thought made Jason’s stomach churn uncomfortably. “Sorry that happened. Must have sucked.”
“It happens to a lot of kids in this city. I’m probably the luckiest.” That was one way to look at it, but kind of a weird one. “I was angry. So angry I couldn’t see or think straight. I wanted to hurt them back. I started out doing smaller stuff, hacking into accounts and setting the IRS on people and everything. But it wasn’t violent enough. What had happened to me was violent, and I wanted to be violent too. Started blowing up warehouses. Fucking miracle I didn’t kill anybody. I almost killed a lot of people. Almost killed Steph.”
If Jason had been scared of this guy before, he was pants-shittingly terrified now. Holy shit. He didn’t know Tim could get scarier. Or more criminal.
He knew Tim was ashamed of it. It was obvious just from the look on his face. But it was really only when he mentioned hurting Stephanie that he actually seemed pained.
“All that to say, Jason,” Tim said, “Bruce still adopted me. The adoption hadn’t even gone through. He could still back out. But he barely even punished me. Steph was unconscious, I was sitting at her bedside - and he told me I’d already learned my lesson. I had.” He paused a beat. “He also said that Steph herself was punishment enough. Which was also true.”
Wow. Batman and Robin were family members with a domestic terrorist. And they just, like, kinda gave him a hard time about it. It was incredible. It’s like being superheroes made their standards lower somehow. It definitely explained why Bruce saw a homeless asshole like Jason and randomly decided he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Tim Drake-Wayne had put the bar on the ground.
He could be the good kid.
“Bruce is the most stubborn person you’ll ever meet. He’s Steph with a rich white man’s confidence. He’s implacable and I’ve never seen him change his mind on anything. If he makes a decision, he does it. There is literally nothing you can do that would jeopardize your place in the house, up to and including domestic terrorism.” Tim paused a beat. “And he’s already way more attached to you than he was to me at that point. I can’t think of a reason to worry.”
Jason mumbled something vague and incoherent about how Steph could probably change Bruce’s mind.
“Why would she do that?”
Jason made garbled noises about how he had been a jerk at dinner, so…
“When you think of an actual reason why Steph or I would want you gone let me know so I can refute it.” Tim paused, pointedly waiting for Jason to summon up an actual halfway decent logical reason why Stephanie Brown or Tim Drake-Wayne would somehow want him dead, gone, and onto the street. He completely failed. Tim didn’t seem surprised. “Cool. Stop flipping over nothing. Bruce likes you ten times as much as he likes me. You’re fine.”
Tim didn’t sound resentful or upset about it, but he was hard to read. The words struck Jason oddly - that even as Jason sat there stressing over being the expendable one, Tim was already writing Jason off as the favorite. Were any of them on the same page? Did Stephanie secretly think that Tim was the golden kid? Did anybody in this family actually understand it, or were they all blindly stumbling around, desperately trying to find the right way to love each other?
It didn’t cohere with Jason’s militaristic viewpoint. There was an enemy. There had to be. Otherwise nobody knew what was going on. It felt like a worst case scenario.
Jason found himself shifting uncomfortably on the very comfortable chair. He stared hard at the screen, aimlessly clicking his Sims around and watching them set food on fire. He pretended hard that he wasn’t talking to Tim. He was just doing what he always did and speaking to himself, playing with the figures in his head and keeping them neatly tucked inside his own mind, where nobody had to see and nobody had to know.
“What’s you and Bruce’s relationship anyway?” Jason hoped to god the question sounded casual. He was aware it probably didn’t. “He never refers to you as his kid.”
“I’m not,” Tim said shortly. Jason wondered how often he’d had to say it. Maybe people were typically too polite to ask? “I had a father. When I came to live with him I wasn’t exactly in the market for a new one, and I never decided I needed one.”
“So what are you, then?”
Tim hesitated.
Jason knew more about how Bruce’s guardianship of Tim ended than how it began. Alfred had really only shared two things about it: that Tim and Bruce loved each other but didn’t always get along, and that they had a gigantic blow-out fight that ended up in Tim packing his bags and leaving for Boston two months early, the week he turned eighteen. The subject of the fight was uncertain. It was either about everything or nothing, or maybe a lot of little things blown up in everyone’s face. They never really stopped working together on Batman stuff, but Bruce and Tim stopped talking as much.
They had chilled out. They still argued a bit, but it had never really felt like father-son arguing. They always sounded exasperated with each other, as if they were mutually shocked that they were telling each other what to do. From the sounds of it they always thought the other person was trying to make them do the stupidest thing on Earth.
“I don’t know if I can describe it in a word,” Tim said finally. Jason didn’t fight the weird satisfaction that Tim had taken the question seriously enough to stop and think about it. “Definitely not a dad. More like a much older brother, I guess, but not really that either. Not a teacher and responsibility like he is for Steph. A friend on some level, maybe. Batman and Red Robin are teammates, so there’s that element. I don’t know. I guess we never put a name to it. Do we need to?”
“I guess not.”
Jason had a lot of people in his life who he couldn’t dredge up the right names for. ‘Neighbor’ or ‘babysitter’ or ‘friend’ rarely cut it when the neighbor fed you when Mom was too high to put together a meal or grocery shop, and friends didn’t let you couch surf when you were turned out on the street. Sometimes people are more important than words.
But Jason found himself hesitating anyway. Despite that - despite all of that, despite everything he knew and everything he had convinced himself he didn’t care about - he couldn’t help but ask. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did, at least to Jason.
“What are you and me, then?” Jason asked. He hoped it sounded casual. He knew that it didn’t.
He couldn’t see Tim’s face, which was very much on purpose. He didn’t know what Tim was thinking, and he couldn’t tell the look on his face. Maybe he looked like Jason had dropped a dead rat on his table and asked him to love it. Not that Jason had asked him to love it. Jason wouldn’t do that. That would be a really weird thing to ask someone who destabilized foreign dictatorships. He just…he just…
Sometimes you asked a question you didn’t want to know the answer to. You had to ask the question anyway. You just couldn’t stand not knowing - you couldn’t stand living in a world where you hadn’t even asked, where you hadn’t even tried.
Jason was always scared. But he always waged the war anyway. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t.
“What do you want us to be?”
Why did Jason always choose to wage the war? Why did he always take up arms? Why did he always fight for it?
“Whatever you want, I guess,” Jason said. “But it’s kind of a pain in the ass stressing out about you all the time.”
Tim was silent again. Whatever. Jason played in silence next to him, heroically attempting to drown as many Sims as possible. It was a hard world out there. Sometimes you drowned in swimming pools. That was life.
“So,” Tim said, somewhat awkwardly and very much on purpose, “you made a house yet?”
Jason glanced over at Tim for the first time. He was leaning forward a little, arms folded on the table as he watched Jason play. Had he been watching the whole time? “Yeah, duh. I’m doing a practice house right now with five bathrooms and a room that’s just windows.” Jason halted, considering everything before tossing it out the window. “The library has a ton of architecture books. I'm going to borrow the ancient Rome one and make an exact replica of a Roman senator’s villa.”
“That’s…incredibly cool.” Tim looked a little surprised to say it, as if he hadn’t expected to say the words and mean them. “You’ll have problems finding Sims with enough money to live in it, though. Do you know about the cheat codes?”
“The what?!”
“Here, click over to the Goths. I’ll show you. Can I see your five bathroom house?”
“Yeah! Look, I made a statue garden!”
Jason scooted his chair to the right, beckoning Tim in to bring his own chair closer so they were sitting next to each other. It was necessary for a better view of the screen and mouse access.
“I like the way you placed the statues. Lots of feng shui.” Tim took the mouse as Jason nodded ardently. He had worked hard on it. “Here, let me show you how to access the debug menu. We can put your Sims in funny NPC costumes too.”
“Seriously?! How do you do that?”
“Look,” Tim said, “I’ll show you.”
Jason looked, and saw…
Jason saw…
*
They missed dinner, but somehow they got away with it. Tim was clearly kind of embarrassed about it, and kept on muttering to himself about bad influences, but Jason figured that Tim should probably focus on dealing with his more important character flaws that he shouldn’t pass onto children, e.g. domestic terrorism.
Domestic terrorism.
God, he was cool.
Alfred barely twitched an eyebrow when he saw them again, settling for telling them that dinner itself had been postponed. Tim looked shocked, so Jason guessed that this wasn’t a very common occurrence. Come to think of it, if Bruce refused to come up from the Cave for dinner Jason usually just made himself a plate and went downstairs to sit at the desk next to the Batcomputer and munch potatoes as Bruce worked. He tried to munch quietly, but other times he couldn’t stop himself from asking questions about the case. He liked to think it helped - sometimes asking Bruce to explain the case helped him take a step back and catch things he would have otherwise missed. Bruce always told him ‘good job’, as if Jason had really done anything. Bruce had done all the work. But Bruce always acted like he had single handedly cracked the case anyway. What a dork.
“Master Bruce is concerning himself with a case downstairs,” Alfred said, confirming one suspicion. “You two were otherwise occupied and we couldn’t find Miss Stephanie, so we agreed to postpone the meal for a few hours. Master Timothy, I believe Master Bruce would like your help tracking some financial statements for this case.”
“You couldn’t find Steph?” Tim said, surprised. “You tried calling her?”
“The call was declined.” Alfred raised an eyebrow and silently interrogated Tim and Jason in tandem. “Would you two know anything about that?”
Tim just shrugged. “Last I saw her, she was working out while I was installing the software updates for the Batcomputer. I went upstairs for lunch and didn’t come with me. And Jason’s been in the library all day. She seriously didn’t even come out for dinner?”
“It’s unlike her,” Alfred agreed. “Master Tim, would you -”
“I’ll go find her!” Jason piped up. He remembered too late that it was rude to interrupt Alfred, but he was forced to ignore the skyrocketing eyebrow and dazed blink anyway. “I’ll go grab her so we can eat dinner. Be right back!”
With that heroic proclamation, Paul Revere accepted his sacred duty and set his horse off at a sprint, galloping through dangerous territory mired in darkness so he could share his life saving rhetoric with the village. With words themselves - ‘The British are coming!’ - and a fast horse, the tides of war could be turned.
Or maybe he was more like Pheidippides? A simple messenger’s twenty five mile sprint carrying news of a vital victory towards Athens, a hero from Herodotus given recognition in -
Jason tripped over the stair runner.
“Master Jason, please do not run in the halls!”
Every Greek hero had his tragedy.
Stephanie wasn’t in her room, which Jason definitely had never peeked inside and which for sure wasn’t painted a garish shade of purple. That was no surprise - it was definitely the first place Alfred would have looked. Similarly, she wasn’t in any of the common areas. The door to Tim’s study was locked too. She wasn’t in the library, and Bruce was already in the Batcave. It was weird. Had she wanted to be alone or something?
For a brief red-hot irrational second, Jason wondered if he had hurt her feelings. Nope. No way. Stephanie Brown didn’t a) sulk, and b) get her feelings hurt by rude gutter children. Adults who let kids hurt their feelings were super embarrassing, and everybody knew Stephanie Brown wasn’t embarrassing.
Well, if she was sulking, she could get over it. The minute Jason got up from the computer he realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and his stomach was seriously rumbling. All these regular meals and big portions were turning his body seriously whiny, but Jason liked to view it as the opposite of storing fat for the winter. If Stephanie was actually a fellow gutter child then she knew the hustle.
Jason aimlessly poked his head inside rooms and wandered into random hallways for a few minutes, but it wasn’t until he stumbled inside an actual small dance studio that he realized he had to be methodical about this. The Manor could probably eat an unsuspecting gutter child who let his guard down. He was already working on a short story with that premise - it was a metaphor for capitalism - but he really didn’t feel like making it a reality. The world was weird enough already. He didn’t want to accidentally speak anything into existence.
Maybe he should check his own favorite hiding spots? Jason wasn’t dumb - he always saw little initials or doodles carved into the wooden frames in his hiding spots left by generations of delinquent children. Some D.W. really wanted you to know that A.W. was ugly. A.W. was four feet two inches tall - or so a post proudly proclaimed. R.W., U.W., and T.W. were, indeed, there.
Jason secretly loved it a little. He had started keeping a log of every little piece of switchblade graffiti he found, marking its contents and location. Maybe he could sit down and match them all up with the ridiculous genealogies he found.
He always wondered how Abraham to Uriah Wayne would feel about him sitting in their hidey holes, tracing his fingers over their initials. He knew they had not been writing to him. People like him only went inside Wayne Manor to clean. Whatever future generations of Waynes they had been writing to, Jason had never been in that picture.
So Jason wrote it large. He had grabbed an awl from the Batcave and found the most popular graffiti spots, the ones crowded with generations of names. He wrote his own, big and blocky and loud, right at the top.
J.W. ESTUVO AQUI. It was the first thing anybody would see when looking at it. He wrote it again and again, wherever he saw everybody else leaving their mark. J.W. ESTUVO AQUI. Jason Wayne was here.
Even if he left - even if he was kicked out - Jason had been there. For those strange few months, Jason had been there. You’d have to chop down the house to tear him away from it.
Bruce hadn’t kicked out Tim. Tim was a domestic terrorist who wanted to drop out of MIT. They hated each other half the time and Tim couldn’t even name their relationship.
Bruce had told Jason that he wanted him to stay. What had he meant? It had seemed so complicated at the time - that there was a secret message in those words that Jason had to divine, that it couldn’t possibly be that simple. And obviously the reality of the situation was hideously complex. But what Bruce said - Bruce’s feelings, somehow just the same as Jason's - Jason couldn’t figure out a way to complicate it.
No matter how hard Jason looked, he could only find one recent-ish B.W. - tucked high in the eaves of the popular hide-away attic, the initials gashed into the wood before the graffiti artist surrendered all pretense and started gouging the wood with a switchblade in long, straight lines. The marks were made over and over again, so methodical that parts of the post were almost carved out. Nothing to say. Just anger. Nothing to tell the world - just a desire to gouge it all out.
Jason didn’t know at what point Bruce decided to become a superhero, but the world probably dodged a bullet on a pretty insane supervillain when he did.
Jason thought about those marks as he climbed up his favorite hidden stairwell to the favorite hideaway attic, clutching his Power Ranges flashlight in one clammy hand as he crept into its heights. There were easily three different attics (maybe the house had eaten two smaller houses?), but the smallest one had the best spot - a view straight out of the round window at the front of the house, tucked under the highest eave, giving you an unmatched vantage point over the grounds. Somebody had set up a large armchair underneath that window a long time ago, complete with battery powered lantern, and the windowsill was covered in initials and graffiti. Even Jason had left his own. But Stephanie Brown was the only one sitting on the armchair, curled up with her chin on her knees as she stared at a Polaroid picture.
The battery powered lamp was turned on, casting a soft circle of light around Jason and Steph, and Jason cautiously flicked off his own flashlight and stuffed it in his pocket. Stephanie had undoubtedly noticed him approaching, but she didn’t really pay him any mind. She just stared at the picture, mane of blonde hair wild around her face, eyes far away.
Jason opened his mouth to tell her that dinner was ready.
“What are you looking at?”
Stephanie glanced at him for the first time, smiling faintly. She bent a finger inwards, and Jason trotted over to look. “Just a picture we took at our post-mission pizza place. See?”
The polaroid was small, but Stephanie tilted it slightly so he could get a better look. There was a blue blur at the corner of the frame, as if someone had leaned back very quickly so they would be out of the shot. Jason could see most of a tall Black guy, skin half-covered by glowing blue metal, holding up a piece of pizza threateningly and shaking a finger at the photographer. There was a big bite taken out of the pizza. Environmental storytelling.
But most of the picture was taken up by two figures talking to each other. Robin, sitting tall and happy, mouth open as she said something probably very funny to the giggling girl next to her. The girl was nuts - giant hair, half a foot taller than Robin sitting, with burnt orange skin and glowing green eyes creased in laughter. Their bodies were angled towards each other, a private moment between two women frozen onto film.
“Wow,” Jason said.
“I know, right? That’s everyone’s reaction to Kory. She thinks it’s funny. Apparently nobody on Tamaran really thought she was anything special. Crazy planet.” Steph smiled softly. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the photograph. “We were so excited to introduce her to pizza. First time she has it, she loves it - eats a whole pie. Then an hour later she’s in the bathroom yelling about how we poisoned her. Turns out she’s lactose intolerant. Now we’re practically the mascots of the weird yuppie California vegan pizza places. Gar’s, like, so smug about it.”
“Vegan food? Like for hippies?” Jason was appalled. “There’s restaurants that just sell vegan food? Who goes there?”
“Californians, I guess! Those people are insane. It’s like another world over there. It’s, like, sunny and shit. Vic says I’m a bigger baby about different cultures than the actual aliens and extradimensional witches.”
“Right.” Jason hesitated, stomach boiling awkwardly. “Um. I’m sorry for…”
“You’re fine. I deserved that one. It made me think, anyway. And I don’t do that nearly enough.” Stephanie didn’t look up from the picture. Jason was worried that she couldn’t. “Hey, squirt. You’re smart, right? What do you do when…when you aren’t the person you thought you were?”
Since when was Jason the smart one? Why was an adult asking him for advice? Jason didn’t know. But he thought about it anyway, hopping on the carved oak back leg of the armchair and hanging off the winged back. “Uh…I don’t know. You change your opinion about yourself, I guess.”
But Stephanie just shook her head. “Who you are is, like, a thing. It’s always been a thing to me. Steph or Robin or…whatever. But what if you - you do something, or you think things, and they aren’t something Steph or Robin would ever do or think? Are you something else now?”
Jason really didn’t understand this woman’s psychology. “You’re Steph. You’re thinking it. So it’s a thing Steph would think. I’m not following you.”
“Steph’s always been this. She can’t start being that.” Jason began experimentally climbing up the chair, digging his feet onto the arms and scrambling up to the top. “Robin’s always been Robin. She’s always been the girl I wanted to be. Robin can’t be…that isn’t really what I anticipated for her.” Quickly she added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being…that. Some of my best friends are that. But Robin’s not that. She’s not an alien or a mute assassin or anything. Robin’s a normal person, not a - more interesting person. Her relationships aren’t really where she always thought they would be. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“I’m not really where I thought I’d be six months ago either,” Jason said philosophically. He hoisted himself up until he was gripping the back of the chair, elbows locked straight as he swung his feet. He could see straight down onto the top of Stephanie’s head from this vantage point. He could see from the very top of the window - from the very top of the world, with everything spread out underneath his feet in harmony. Undisturbed and eternal. Simple, if only when viewed from high above. “Things change. That’s not bad. Maybe who you wanted to be when you were my age isn’t who you want to be when you’re an adult. Shocker.”
Stephanie was quiet. Jason experimentally tilted himself forward, leaning over the back of the chair until his legs were high in the air too.
“You’re going to fall off.”
“I’m not gonna fall off,” Jason lied. “Look, I got balance.”
“I’m a gymnast. You’re going to fall off.”
“How can you tell? You ain’t even looking up.”
Stephanie sighed. She waited three seconds before getting off the armchair, almost at the precise moment that Jason over-balanced and fell ass over teakettle onto the overstuffed cushion. He bounced, blinking hard to clear his spinning vision, and when his eyes finally rightened themselves he saw Stephanie Brown standing in front of him, arms crossed and amused.
“Right,” Jason muttered, world spinning. “Big damn superhero.”
“I think the proper term is ‘Wonder Girl’, thank you very much.” Stephanie crouched in front of him, expression softening. “Jason. Is there something you want to tell me?” Her tone was kind and gentle, and it abruptly panicked Jason. He shook his head. “Are you sure? There’s nothing you want to talk to me about? It can be anything.”
“I’m fine!” Jason did not break under torture. “I just came up about dinner, honest!”
“Is that what Alfred said?” What did that mean? But Stephanie just sighed, looking at Jason intently. Her gaze could be surprisingly intense - as if she was really looking at you, ready to crack you open and read the future from your entrails. “The boys warned me about overwhelming you about five different times, you know. I think they were worried I’d try to force you into family togetherness before you were cool with that.”
Jason mumbled something about how Steph obviously, like, didn’t even want Bruce to adopt him, so…
“Seriously? Who told you that?”
“You yelled at him for, like, an hour,” Jason said, desperately uncomfortable. “Look, it’s fine. I don’t care. Water under the bridge. Everything’s cool. I don’t want to make it into a thing.”
“A thing? I don’t - oh, man.” Stephanie sighed again, putting her elbow on her knees and propping her hand on her chin. Jason squirmed uncomfortably. But she didn’t seem upset or frustrated - just a little exasperated, as if her day was long enough without dealing with this too. “Jason, Bruce is…I dunno if you’ve noticed, but he’s kinda fragile.”
“He’s actually Batman?!”
“I’ve been watching Batman’s back and taking care of Bruce for ages. I was so worried about leaving him. I needed to get out of Gotham, I knew the guys needed me out in Jump, but…I was so worried I was ditching the people that needed me here. And then he and Tim had that blow up a month after I moved out, which totally felt like my fault, and…” Stephanie sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “I was stressing out over him constantly. And then he’s calling me in a panic over emergency placements and I’m sitting here like - he needs me to help take care of him, what makes him think he can take care of a special needs kid! He’s already called me for parenting advice three times in the first week, again, before I told him he was on his own with this one and - ugh. It was seriously like - I turn my back for two seconds…I was just worried about him, Jason. That’s all.”
Jason couldn’t believe this. Well, he could - he had kinda gotten a picture of this just from listening around - but it was still ridiculous. “Bro. He’s, like, thirty. He’s on the Justice League. He has a company. And I’m the houseplant of adoptees. It’s chill.”
“It would have been fine if I had just been here,” Stephanie sighed. Jason couldn’t believe that this was the woman’s beef with him. Did this even count as beef? Was it more like tofu? Had Californian soy byproducts rotted her mind? “But I just had to run off to lead an undergrad superhero team. I hadn’t meant to start A League of Her Own or anything. They just needed me, that’s all. I wouldn’t have left if I thought Bruce would randomly start adopting children…I’m sorry, Jason. It really has nothing to do with you.”
With a slow and creeping horror, Jason realized that his new older sister was stupid.
He had to set this record straight. What the hell. He couldn’t let things continue like this. This was the most ridiculous thing Jason had seen in his entire life, and he once saw a homeless guy climb a gargoyle to try and eat a pigeon.
Jason took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Stephanie stared at him, somewhat incredulously. Finally, like a teacher delivering the lesson of their short life, Jason said, “You are not Queen of the Universe. You are an actual teenager. You can’t control everything that happens in Gotham, and it’s dumb to try and control everything that happens in Bruce’s life. Why don’t you trust him? Why do you think he’s not good enough?”
Steph looked away, somewhat awkwardly, and muttered something about how he had literally been calling for parenting advice again, so…
“And you stopped helping him, and he did just fine! You’re an adult. Adults are supposed to leave him and go to college and start superhero teams.” Or they did in his books and Fresh Prince, which Jason had to assume was what the world was ‘meant’ to be like. Jason firmly believed that his life wasn’t the way lives should be. He had to believe that really, really badly. “It’s stupid as hell to try and give that up so you could keep babysitting a guy who doesn’t need it. It’s not your job to take care of him.”
“It totally is, though,” Steph complained weakly. She was powerless in the face of Jason’s rhetoric and she knew it. “I’m Robin, of ‘Batman and’. We’re partners, we cover each other’s bases. Even if Steph doesn’t have to take care of Bruce, Batman needs Robin.”
“You live in California. You can’t exactly do that anymore. If Steph’s thinking things that Steph doesn’t think, then maybe Steph isn’t who she thought she was. And if Batman’s partner is doing her own thing with her own friends now, then maybe she’s gotta take Robin back to the drawing board. And, like, stop mothering Batman.” Jason shrugged, crossing his arms and scooting back into the armchair until he could fold his legs up. “But what do I know, right?”
Steph stared at him for a little while, just enough to make Jason feel awkward. And enough for him to start kicking himself. What was he on about? This wasn’t a parking lot fight with the other street kids over if Robin could beat up Green Lantern (“She hasn’t tried, but she took down Oliver in two minutes. I have footage. Why do you ask, Jason?”). He couldn’t exactly sit here and tell the actual Robin who and what Robin was. What did he know about it?
What did he know about Bruce? What did he know about this family? He knew where Steph was coming from. Jason had heard more than enough stories to grok that Steph had kept Bruce on the straight and narrow for a long time. She was the one who had taken Batman from a monster into a hero. Apparently she was the one who defused what probably would have been a super messy first meeting between Batman and Superman. Batman said that it was only because of Robin that he understood the importance of the Justice League in the first place.
And that was just Batman. Bruce himself could be kind of a disaster sometimes. Jason could already tell that she always mediated Tim and Bruce. And Bruce got sad sometimes, and other times he obviously couldn’t find it within himself to talk to people or to take off Batman and go back to being Bruce Wayne. Jason didn’t know how to handle all that. If he did know, if he could do something - then wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he do whatever he can, to help the guy who helped him out the most?
But it still wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Bruce, who believe it or not hadn’t actually adopted Jason on impulse. And it wasn’t fair to Steph. Just because you were the only girl in the house didn’t mean you had to do your job and take care of all the guys too. She hadn’t been much older than Jason when she took up vigilantism. Other people should have been taking care of her. She hadn’t looked out for Steph first for a really long time - had she ever?
“Can I sit?”
Jason startled, and he quickly scooched to the side to make room for Steph. He was still pretty small and the armchair was obviously super big, so they fit together just fine. Her bare arm brushed against Jason’s chunky red sweater, but she didn’t act awkward about it. She just settled in with him, pulling her own legs underneath her. She smelled like strawberries. Jason tried extremely hard not to notice.
It was hard to read her. Her expression was blank and controlled. It made Jason sweat a bit. Was she mad at him? Was this when the prophesied Stephanie Brown hatred campaign against Jason began? Why was she sitting next to him? Should he make a run for it?
“If you could decide who Robin was,” Steph said quietly, and Jason stiffened. “If you were in complete control of that. Who would you want Robin to be?”
What a weird question. What a weird question for Robin herself to ask him. Maybe she was having a bit of an identity crisis. Jason probably wasn’t helping there. The least he could do was give her an answer. Maybe he should pretend to think about it first. He really didn’t have to think about it at all, obviously, but maybe he should pretend. But he ended up saying it immediately anyway.
“He’s like Robin now,” Jason confessed. “I mean - he or she or whatever. Gender doesn’t matter. Uh, they’re a kid, though. Not that there’s anything wrong with being an adult. I mean - I have a really good imagination, Bruce says so, so -”
“You can just go for it, squirt.”
“Oh. Okay.” Why was Jason on fire? Why did even thinking of this set something deep in Jason aflame? “He’s like Robin now, ‘cause when he saves people he always makes them feel safe. People trust him. But he’s really different too. Because he’s really strong and powerful, and everybody���s scared of how powerful he is. When people look at him, they see…they see that he’ll save them no matter what. That he’ll never stop until everybody in the Narrows is safe. If he dies, that wouldn’t stop him - he’d just get back up again, ready for round two. He’s the most stubborn son of a gun in all’a Gotham.”
Jason took a deep, shuddering breath. The oxygen stoked the fire in him, but he couldn’t stop for the life of him.
“He’s not really who you think of when you think of a hero. He doesn’t care about glory or fairy tale endings. But people - people who have nothing, they have him. People who have nothing in their pockets have Robin. Kids, the babies on the street - they’d have a big brother in Robin. He saves the unsaveable kids.” Jason’s breath hitched, hot tears pricking at his eyes. “Robin would have saved me. He wouldn’t have stopped until he saved me.”
The image was clear in his mind. He’d imagined it a thousand times. He had a good imagination, and Jason never had anything fun to do but read and think. He knew what Robin’s costume looked like - he couldn’t have the same costume as a girl, come on - and he knew the shape of his domino mask. He had the skin of anybody in the Narrows, so the people who needed him most knew that he was always on their side.
When people had nothing, they would have Robin. They would know that they hadn’t been abandoned by God. That they could be saved. That any of them, any one, could save themselves. They could save each other.
A warm weight fell around his shoulders, and he realized Steph had slung her arm around him. She was soft and warm, and for a crushing moment Jason could almost feel his own mother’s hugs.
She’d never hug him again. Not ever. Jason didn’t know how many more hugs he’d receive over the course of his life, but none of them would ever feel like Mami. There was no getting that back. There was no going backwards.
Where could he go from here?
“Jason,” Steph said softly, “what do you want?”
What did he want? He wanted Mami, obviously. He wanted to stay in Wayne Manor forever. He wanted to read every book and go to that fancy prep school and he wanted Tim to play the Sims with him again just like he promised.
Jason could admit all of that. He’d been pretty insistent about the Gotham Academy thing, despite Bruce’s reservations. The one thing he couldn’t admit -
How could he admit it? How could he begin? He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her that the figure in his beautiful picture holding out his hand to Jason, the figure so tall and strong and smiling with bright teeth, who wore her own costume and wore it proudly, only ever looked like himself. That Jason never once daydreamed of Batman and Robin saving him - not once in all those long and lonely years. That he had only ever imagined himself, wearing a coat of many colors, holding a hand out to a boy with nothing. That he had saved himself. He couldn’t imagine anybody else doing it.
“I dunno,” Jason lied. “I dunno…”
“That’s fine.” Steph squeezed his shoulder a little, and despite himself Jason leaned against her side. It was nice. When Steph spoke again her voice was tight and hoarse, and Jason couldn’t figure out why for the life of him. “Jason…who you are is who you’re meant to be. Okay? There’s nobody else in the world like you. There’s nobody else as thoughtful and heroic and insightful as you are. Jason Todd or Jason Wayne - you’re amazing. You’re wonderful. Just as you are.”
“Shut up!” Jason said, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes hard. “You don’t even know me!”
“I’m a pretty good judge of people, you know. And I know there’s people in this world who need someone like you. Someone who keeps people safe.” Jason’s chest hitched a little, making him hate God and all of his creation. Crying. In front of Stephanie Brown. Dante never visited this circle of hell. “I want you to have whatever you want, Jason. Whatever that is. I want you to have what you want.”
Jason wanted to push her away. He wanted to stop crying. He meant to. But somehow he could only lean against Steph and cry, and could only let her hug him, and he thought maybe he didn’t really know what he wanted at all.
*
Bruce stayed with Jason that night, foregoing their usual goodbyes in the Batcave so he could see him to bed instead. Jason knew it had been his own idea - he thought Jason might have been avoiding him that day. Jason had solemnly told Bruce that it was a military maneuver, and that he didn’t understand the rules of engagement. Bruce had agreed, if only out of confusion.
He reminded Jason to brush his teeth and helped him clean up his scattered room. Jason carefully placed a tin Green Army Man he found at the bottom of a dusty box at his headboard right behind him, so he could read over Jason’s shoulder. He pulled up an armchair next to Jason’s bed, and Jason settled in at the corner with a copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology. He had spent ten minutes recapping his favorite chapters from the book, sprinkled with some creative zest. Bruce was very interested in the story of the Golden Fleece and Jason and the Argonauts, but Jason thought maybe he might be making fun of him.
Batman was a formidable foe, and Jason was forced to surrender eventually. Jason dropped the book, throwing his hands up. “Fine! I was named after the movie! Happy? You finished interrogating me, officer?”
“What interrogation? I never asked.” The man’s poker face was impressive, but Jason couldn’t be fooled. “I didn’t even imply it.”
“There were no ulterior motives,” Jason hissed, jabbing a finger at the faux-innocent Bruce. “She liked the zombie skeletons. She thought they were cool and creepy, and she liked the name Jason, and that was it. Don’t read into it!”
“So your namesake has nothing to do with why you have that book memorized?”
Jason threw his book at Bruce. He caught it effortlessly. Damn him.
Dinner had been nice. Everybody finally sat around a table and talked like real people, even if Jason was flip-flopping at lightspeed between feeling extremely awkward and silently threatening to kill Steph if she ever let on that she saw him crying. She had mimed zipping her lips shut, but Jason didn’t trust like that. It was no good for siblings to have blackmail on you so quickly.
At least they were chill now. They had shook on it and everything. Steph said that Jason had given her a lot to think about. Jason really didn’t know what that meant. He was a little worried he might find out.
She had promised to teach him how to backflip before she left. And Tim had promised to play the Sims with him tomorrow. Jason interpreted the promises as white flags. He wasn’t sure if he was victorious or not.
Jason quietly took the Green Army Man off his headboard. He rubbed his thumb over it, feeling the worn tin and letting the shard of rifle poke into his thumb, before carefully putting it back in his nightstand drawer. Bruce noticed, but he didn’t comment on it.
The clock chimed eventually, and Jason’s eyelids were growing heavy. Bruce stood up from the armchair, carefully pulling it back to the side, and told Jason goodnight. He turned off Jason’s nightstand lamp, and his hand half-raised before he let it fall.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Jason,” Bruce said. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight…”
Jason hadn’t really meant to say it. But he didn’t want to leave it on his tongue anymore - unspoken and unknown. He opened his mouth, trying to say it, but the words stuck in his throat. But Bruce turned his back to him and opened the door, light tumbling into the room, and the rise of a deep well of courage in Jason’s heart punctured the intangible barrier between them.
“Bruce?” Jason piped up quietly. Bruce stopped at the door, turning around. The dim yellow glow of the hallway cast light over Bruce and crept into Jason’s bedroom. Jason found himself wishing it would stay away just a little bit longer - that Bruce would remain in the darkness for just a little while. “...can you stay?”
Bruce halted, looking at him with a shadowed expression for only a second, before he closed the door again. “I have to prepare for patrol soon. And you do have a bedtime.”
“Steph’s home. Can Robin patrol by herself? Just for a little bit?”
Jason felt his courage dwindle. He felt like a spoiled, selfish idiot for asking. But he didn’t feel like an idiot for wanting Bruce to stay. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
But Bruce just shrugged and turned around, as if the ask was nothing at all. “You’re right. She’s more than capable.” Bruce walked back to Jason’s bed, and Jason daringly patted the space next to him. Bruce stopped, surprised. “You’re sure?”
“Steph’s a hugger. The dam’s been broken.” It was different with a girl than with a man - much, much different - but it was easier to blame it on her. Bruce cautiously sat down next to him on the bed, motions careful and precise as only Batman could make them. Something in Jason loved that - that Batman helped Bruce care about him. “You know, in Percy Jackson I’d be a son of Nike.”
“For victory? Wouldn’t you rather be the child of an Olympian?” Bruce settled in next to him, and Jason was suddenly acutely aware of the heat of Bruce’s body. He was tall and strong, but he wasn’t so strange.
“Nah. I wouldn’t want anybody going around saying I only won fights ‘cause my parent’s a powerhouse. I’d win fights for my parent. And it would psych everybody out. Like - oh, we’ll lose against Jason, he’s victory himself! That kind of thing. I got it all planned out. So Nike would be my secret Mom, except she would have had me with Mami, because she’s a god and gods can do that.”
“Congratulations on your mother’s bisexuality.”
“Nike would have turned into a guy. Or something. She can be gay if she wants. Jeez, Bruce.” Jason shifted a little until he was pressed against Bruce, warm and strong. “There’d be this whole secret love affair thing. They met because the Louvre put the Nike statue on tour, and Mami went to go see it at the Gotham Museum of Fine Arts - they had a free museum day. And she saw the statue and she fell in love with it instantly.
“And Nike saw her looking, and fell in love with her too. So Nike uses her power and makes the statue move right in front of Mami. Mami sees its headless body turning to look at her, and she knows that it can see her clearly even with no eyes and no face. But it’s still beautiful to her. The statue steps off the pedestal, wings beating, and walks towards Mami. Nike’s thinking that Mami can’t love an old statue with no head, so she tries to turn the statue into something beautiful that Mami could love. A really attractive man or a cute woman if Mami’s bisexual or something. But Mami tells Nike that nothing’s as beautiful as the ancient statue. It’s the most beautiful statue in the world. She doesn’t need to see Nike’s face to love her. Then they fall in love together.”
“That’s a beautiful story,” Bruce said gravely. “How does it end?”
“With me, obviously,” Jason said. “Mom and Nike never met again. But Mami gave me magic, and that means I’ll always be okay. This is where I’m going to start my own memoir. I’m working on that, by the way. It’s more of a diary now, but it’s pretty good. You aren’t reading it.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” Bruce said. “But why start it here? Not during your life in the Narrows? I know it’s important to you.”
“That’s in flashbacks,” Jason said condescendingly. “It’s a literary device. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Clearly I do not.”
Obviously. Jason settled back in bed, leaning against Bruce just a little more. Little by little. “It starts here because here is where it starts. This is when it begins.”
“Here?” Bruce asked. He sounded a little surprised. Jason didn’t know why. It was obvious. “Right now?”
“Sure,” Jason said. “Right here.”
Jason fell asleep like that, warm and safe with somebody who loved him, and for a brief moment as he slid from consciousness to sleep he thought that he might have something he wanted.
He would get the one other thing he wanted soon. Stephanie was changing, and Jason was fulfilling his potential. Batman needed a Robin. They’d see.
Jason would show them.
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