until my lips are cracked and dry

by cookiesncrows

Summary:

Stephanie Brown was raped. Maybe. She hasn’t decided yet. Either way, she didn’t like it.

This is the aftermath.

Notes:

title from hands by jesse detor, highly recommend giving it a listen. updates are going to be sporadic but i’m aiming for weekly.

Chapter 1: one

Stephanie Brown did not know who’s bed she was laying on. The comforter was pink and rough and vaguely old lady-ish, with little flowers sewn into the quilting.

“Look at me.” Dean said in a loud whisper, his words slurring together.

She obeyed, though she wasn’t sure if it was his hand that did most of the moving of her head. She continued to trace the stitching with her fingers as she looked at him.

His red hair was matted, and though his beard was short, it still seemed unclean. Nothing about him seemed clean. She didn’t like the way his fingers felt on her cheek, slowly stroking her skin. She could feel the hair on his knuckles, and she bit her tongue. He wet his cracked lips, and smiled at her. She tried to smile back, but she was afraid it looked more like a grimace. He didn’t seem to notice.

“I love it when you smile, baby. I love to make you smile.” She let out something that could be considered reminiscent of a laugh, and he smiled wider. She suddenly became distracted by his teeth. They looked nice, nicer than you’d expect after looking at the rest of him. Straight, for the most part. No gaps. Still yellow, though. But not disgustingly yellow. Slightly yellower than normal yellow.

He moved closer to her, breathing heavily, like an animal in pain. She did not want to look down below his waistline.

“I love you, Stephanie.” He whispered, and icicles shot down to her feet.

“Really?” She whispered back, and he nodded. He placed his face in the crook of her neck, and began kissing her. She wondered vaguely if he could feel her pulse with his tongue, considering how far up in her throat her heart had become. She stared at the ceiling.

“Does that answer your question?” He asked, and she could hear the smirk on his face. Her neck was now sticky with his spit, and she wanted more than anything to reach up and wipe it off.

“Please tell me you didn’t leave a hickey.” Stephanie said, and he groaned. “My mom already doesn’t like you.”

“Man, fuck that bitch.” He said, rolling onto his back. “Who cares about her?”

“I do.” Stephanie said, because though she was often the first to complain about her mother, she would not let her boyfriend say a negative thing about her. Dean laughed.

“I’m sorry baby.” He said, rolling on top of her, the mattress squeaking as he placed his hands on either side of her head. “Here,” He whispered, inches from her face. She could smell the beer. “I’ll make it up to you.”

As his tongue entered her mouth, as he began ramming his clothed pelvis onto her leather mini skirt, she wondered if she was asexual. She liked Dean, she wouldn’t be dating him if she didn’t. Though, she couldn’t quite remember what it was that she liked about him. At one point, she had enjoyed dry humping. Maybe it was the jeans he was wearing.

Yes, that had to be it! It was a rough texture against her thighs, and not a pleasant experience. He moved faster. She did not like the taste of his spit.

“Dean..?” She whispered, looking at his eyes. He was sweating, and his mouth was slightly open.

“Mhm?” He asked, through a moan. At least it felt good to him.

“I’m tired.” She said, stifling a yawn. “Can we do this some other time?” Her eyelids were already beginning to close.

“That’s okay baby.” He said, and the world went dark.

–

When she woke up, it was bright outside, and she was still on the grandmother bed. Her bra was still on, to some extent, although her right nipple was entirely out. Her panties were at her ankles, and the purple top she had been wearing was beside her knotted hair. She couldn’t see her skirt.

Dean was asleep beside her, his head laying in his folded hands. He was shirtless, and his jeans were now at his knees. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his soft cock lay out in the open for the world to see. Stephanie listened to the traffic and the birds of Gotham city. She had been raped.

Had she?

She couldn’t quite tell and she couldn’t quite remember anything. She didn’t know if she wanted to. There was a knot in her stomach, and she suddenly realized she was about to vomit. She considered, briefly, throwing up onto Dean, before thinking better of it. Stephanie rolled left, grabbing her skirt (the specifics of how it got there were not clear to her, and she doubted they ever would be), before releasing the contents of her stomach into the floor.

Tears stung at her eyes, and she fought back a wail. Her mind was clear, even if her body was against her.

The space between her legs felt raw, ripped open. The sensation in itself was not unfamiliar, but the intensity of it was. She remembered the bus ride to Tim’s, the first time they planned on going further than kissing.

“does it hurt the first time you have sex”

Her fingers raced across the keyboard, skipping the Quora posts made by fourty year old virgins and the Christian mommy blogs begging her to save herself for her husband.

The hood of her jacket was pulled up, the hoodie strings pulled tight. Stephanie had always looked exactly her age, and for some reason, today she was convinced there was someone on the bus who could read her mind, who knew exactly what she was reading and where she was going. “Look!” They were about to scream, pointing their fingers at her as the other passengers jump up in shock. “This fourteen year old girl is going to have sex with her fourteen year old boyfriend!” After that, they might add something about her being the Spoiler. But that would be irrelevant compared to the unholy act she was about to commit.

She clicked on an article about halfway down the page, and she was greeted by an infographic of a black girl with pink hair lying in bed with her white boyfriend who was missing part of his left arm.

“Does It Hurt The First Time You Have Sex?

You may have heard that first time sex is painful or uncomfortable, but you aren’t sure why. If you feel a little bit nervous before you have sex, it may make penetration more difficult.”

She scrolled further, and read for a minute or two. She took a deep breath.

All of the buzzwords and outdated slang boiled down to what she thought was a good enough answer; yes, but not bad, and it’ll feel so good you won’t even notice until the morning after. The bus stopped, and she got off, a whisper in the back of her mind telling her she’d never be a virgin on the bus again.

It felt so long ago that she had laid in Tim’s arms, his chest moving slowly up and down. It felt so long ago that she carried the soreness around like a prize, treasuring the lingering feeling of Tim inside her.

She grabbed her phone, opening her contacts and scrolling through silently until she found someone who wouldn’t ask questions. She zipped her skirt, and slipped out the window.

–

Fifteen minutes later, she was climbing into the passenger seat of a (likely stolen) black pickup.

“What were you doing out here?” Jason asked, one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on the cigarette hanging between his lips. His grey eyes were hard, and his skin seemed stretched too tightly across his bones. It always did. Perhaps when someone dies, a part of them never comes back, no matter how much ancient magic is used.

Stephanie shrugged, unable to hide the annoyance on her face. “I called you because I thought you wouldn’t ask questions.

Jason laughed, a puff of smoke filling the cab as she pulled the door shut. He cracked a few windows. “No, you didn’t call. You sent your location with the message “come. not work.”, and waited.”

“I… went to a party last night.” She said, watching Jason’s reflection in the window. “Had one too many. Passed out on the couch.”

“Mhm.”

Taking advantage of the silence, Stephanie reached for the radio. It was already turned to a folk channel, and Woody Guthrie’s voice filled the truck. Though she didn’t want it to, her leg continued to bounce. She needed to get tested. How do they test you? She thought to herself, placing a hand on her knee to try and slow her movements. Did he wear a condom? Her breathing sped up. She barely knew what an STD would do.

“I know a kid who hangs around there.” Jason said, once they hit a red light. “Dean Davis?” Stephanie’s body turned cold. “He’s older than you, twenty by now, I think. So I doubt you’d know him.” She looked at Jason, bug eyed.

“Promise me something, will you?” He asked.

She nodded, before remembering that traffic laws were practically the only kind Jason obeyed (unless he was under the Hood. then nothing mattered), and said, “What is it?”

“Turn the other way. Don’t come back.”

Her mouth was dry as she asked “Why?”

Jason shrugged, sniffing. “He’s a jerk. I don’t like him.”

Stephanie pulled her knees to her chest and leaned her chin into them. The seats of the truck were made out of a scratchy sort of fabric much more suitable for someone wearing long pants rather than her lack of clothes. Of course he touched me, she thought to herself. She nodded, even though Jason’s eyes were back on the road.

“Oh,” he said. “Where am I supposed to be taking you?”

“Home.”

She could feel his eyes on her again. They were heavy, and his face somehow managed to hold the air of an eye roll without the motion itself.

“Could I have an address, by any chance?”

“Yeah.” She said, the knots in her stomach tightening. She slipped her phone out of the door compartment she had left it in, opening Google Maps and sliding it towards Jason. The rest of the ride was made in silence.

Chapter 2: two

Two weeks had gone by since the last time Stephanie Brown had seen, or spoken with, Dean Davis.

A week ago, she had slipped into a Planned Parenthood for an STD test after school. She hated it, almost enough to swear off of sex entirely for the rest of her life. Maybe Lady Artemis hadn’t been as crazy as Stephanie had initially thought in her seventh grade history class. It wasn’t the test itself, a tiny needle prick, which would’ve been laughable to worry about. It wasn’t the doctor, a kind woman with dark skin and big hair whose smile only faltered the first second she saw Stephanie (after this, she immediately returned to strict professionalism).

She didn’t like the receptionist, with her thick glasses and stringy hair. She didn’t like the nails tapping on clipboards as forms were being filled, and she didn’t like the toddler tapping away loudly on his iPad. She didn’t like that there were other girls inside the clinic, and she didn’t like the jar of condoms on the counter like lollipops at a bank.

“So, we’re here for an STD test?” Her doctor had asked, clicking an app on her laptop. She sat on a swiveling stool that seemed far too large for her. She was hunched over the computer, looking at a page topped with the picture of Stephanie that had just been taken by the receptionist. She hoped her mother never accompanied her to this particular clinic, because she lacked too much creativity to come up with a convincing lie.

“Yeah.” Stephanie replied, her nails digging into the plastic coating of the exam table. Her feet were further off the floor than she would’ve liked. The room felt too warm.

The doctor pushed her glasses further up her nose, and turned away from her computer, facing Stephanie. “How many partners have you had?”

“Two. Only one recently.”

“How recent?”

“Um.” Stephanie swallowed. She had never been a fan of fluorescent lighting. “A week ago?”

The doctor nodded, making a mark on her clipboard. “And the other, how long ago were they?”

Stephanie was silent for a moment. “How long ago was my first time with him, or the most recent?”

“Both.”

Stephanie took a deep breath, wondering how unreasonable it would be for her to text Tim and ask him. He had always been better with dates than she was. “First time was a year ago, at least. Maybe a year and a half. Last was a few months ago.”

“Three, would you say?”

“Yeah. About that.”

The doctor nodded, and explained the blood test. She went on a short spiel about consent and condoms, and Stephanie nodded along. She talked about anonymous reports of sexual assault, and Stephanie tried not to look too interested. When they were finished, a beige bandage wrapped tightly around her finger, she lingered by the door for a few minutes, scrolling back and forth on her homescreen, until an older woman moved to leave. Stephanie left just before her, holding the door open, hoping that if anyone was to see her, they’d think she had come along with her mother.

She had blocked Dean the moment Jason dropped her off at home. She doubted he had even noticed.

Stephanie had learned a long time ago that there were bad days, and then there were mornings after bad days. The sun did not care if she had or hadn’t been raped. Neither did the city, the criminals of Gotham, or her schoolwork. She went to class and she brushed her hair. She showered and she went on patrol.

“You are quieter than normal.” Cassandra said one night, as they sat with their legs dangling off a rooftop.

If Stephanie was going to tell anyone, she’d tell Cassandra. If anyone would understand, it would be Cassandra. If anyone wouldn’t blame her, it would be Cassandra.

“I’ve been tired.” She said, inching closer to Cass. “I think my period’s about to start.”

Cassandra nodded. “Do you want to go get pizza?”

Stephanie smiled, and the motion wasn’t entirely forced.

When she and Cass had first begun getting food on patrol, it was an odd sight. Patrons of whatever restaurant or food truck would stare open mouthed, and whisper, and open their phone cameras while pretending not to. Stephanie would repeat their order a few times before it was understood, and their food would be prepared first.

Now, while they still got a few odd stares, the places they frequented seemed to finally catch onto the fact that teenage girls were teenage girls, vigilante or not. Cassandra got mushroom, and Stephanie got cheese with much more red pepper than one should be allowed. The routine of balancing the box in one hand while scaling an apartment building was familiar, familiar enough that Stephanie told herself she could pretend like that night with Dean never happened. There was no before, and there was no after. She had never even met him, in fact. Was he even real? She doubted it.

Cassandra lifted her mask up to her nose, breathing the scent of grease and tomato sauce in before taking a bite. Stephanie followed her, eating like she had been starved for days.

“Batman misses you.” Cassandra said, matter of fact-ly after a few minutes. “He said he does.”

Stephanie looked at her like she was joking, only until she remembered that Cassandra did not typically joke. “We still work together.”

Cassandra swallowed a bite that seemed to be primarily cheese. “Yes, but you do not come to the house as much as you once did.” She didn’t say anything about Tim, but she didn’t need to.

“I miss being there.” She said, and she meant it. For despite all of the home’s dysfunction, it held love. That was clear to anyone who entered.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow.” Cassandra said, and Stephanie nodded.

–

Stephanie crawled through her bedroom window, and stripped out of her spandex before putting on a tie dye shirt from middle school and a pair of sweatpants. Her bedroom door was shut, still locked like she had left it. The apartment was silent. Her mother hadn’t been home in days.

She unlocked the door, taking a cautious look around her surroundings. Her door led to a sort of faux hallway, a few feet of walls, one of which contained a linen closet filled with files and board games that hadn’t been touched in years, and the other of which contained nothing. After that, there was the large room that acted as both a living room and a dining room, with a half wall covered in black and white tile pretending to separate the kitchen from the rest of the space. The door to her mother’s bedroom was still closed. She never slept with the door closed, so the home was still Stephanie’s.

Beer bottles were littered across the floor, and dishes coated the countertop. There was an overflowing ashtray on more than one surface, and flies hovered over the sink like another piece of second hand furniture.

Stephanie did not like leaving her bedroom, whether her mother was home or not. She was forever grateful for the fire escape directly outside her bedroom window, constantly aiding her in escape and reentry, even before she picked up certain hobbies.

Her phone rang from her bedside table.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Stephanie Brown?”

“Yeah, this is she.”

“Hello, this is Vanessa from Planned Parenthood. We’ve gotten your STD test results back. Is now a good time?”

Stephanie nodded for a moment before remembering that she was on the phone, and that Vanessa, whose voice she had eventually placed as the wiry haired receptionist, could not see her.

“Now works.”

“It’s all negative, from what we can see. Not everything would show up this early, we’d recommend coming in routinely, every few months or thereabouts. Pregnancy could’ve shown this early, but it’s unlikely.”

Her mouth felt dry. Of course, it was good news, but for whatever reason, pregnancy had yet to even cross her mind.

“Thank you.” She said, staring at her feet.

Vanessa hung up, and Stephanie was left alone in an empty home that hadn’t felt like one for years.

Chapter 3: three

It was five AM on a Saturday morning, and Stephanie hadn’t been asleep since two. She had fallen asleep with a bowl of cheddar cheese flavored popcorn on her chest at seven, so it was still, somehow, a full night's sleep.

However, she hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. She didn’t like the combination of nighttime and home. When it was dark outside, she was meant to be patrolling or sleeping. One or the other, and nothing else.

The popcorn bowl had fallen onto the floor at some point, little orange puffs scattered across her carpet, the bowl upside down. She kept telling herself she’d get it in a few minutes. A few more videos, a few more articles, a few more posts. She had tried, unsuccessfully, once or twice, to go back to sleep, each attempt ending with a turn back over to grab her phone. At some point, she realized that she didn’t even remember the last video she watched. She sighed, tossing it down to the foot of her bed, tightening the grey blanket around her shoulders. Her stomach hurt, likely from her meals of the previous day consisting almost entirely of cheese. She had suspected for a few years that she might be lactose intolerant, but she preferred to ignore it in favor of boxed macaroni and cheese and scrambled eggs that were more shredded cheddar than anything else.

She ran a hand through her hair to test how greasy it was. She didn’t like her answer. There was something about having unwashed hair that made her feel perpetually unloveable, despite the fact that she had never heard of anyone loving someone less because of the cleanliness of her hair. She had never heard a study claiming otherwise, though. And that was enough to leave the thought in her mind.

Pushing her rumpled sheets back, she stood, careful to avoid stepping on any popcorn, and made her way towards the bathroom. But, with her hand still on the doorknob, she stopped. There was a light on in her mother’s bedroom. She swallowed, but her mouth felt dry.

“Hi, baby!” Her mother chirped from somewhere in her bedroom. “You’re up early.”

“So are you.” Stephanie replied, her voice hesitant in the dark. “I’m just getting in the shower, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Her mother echoed, and Stephanie grabbed the first towel her hand hit.

Steam filled the room before she even pulled back the shower curtain, and Stephanie threw her pajamas on the floor, hopefully in a place that wouldn’t wind up as a pool of water when she got out to sit in the floor for far too long while contemplating everything and nothing.

Her hair always got flat as it got heavier with the grease, and Stephanie looked forward to the slight puff it would get once it was dried, pending she dried it properly. Her hair was a mix of curls and waves, no two quite the same, but as she had grown, she came to love it. It was hers, and no one else's.

The water burned her skin. She resisted the urge to leap away, instead savoring the heat until her body adjusted itself. She closed her eyes, letting the water run over her eyelids, and took a slow, deep breath.

Her mother was home. That was new.

And she was happy, meaning she was (most likely) high. Her mother was a mean drunk. She always had been. At first, Stephanie was alright with the anger. She hadn’t liked it, of course, even when she was little, but it was tolerable. She kept quiet, and everything was alright. Until it wasn’t, and the anger became targeted at her. No matter how small she made herself.

Stephanie took a breath, and she was surprised when she realized that she was shaking. She looked down at her body. At her thighs, and the way they still held a bit of jiggle despite how muscular her legs had become. At her toenails that needed to be trimmed. At her chest, that grew just a few months before the other girls in her sixth grade class, resulting in mockery, jealousy, and comments she repressed the moment she heard them.

She placed a hesitant hand on her stomach, poking at it. She wasn’t pregnant, she knew that she wasn’t. Dean was stupid, but he wasn’t that stupid. Not stupid enough to get a fourteen year old pregnant. One of his friends had just gotten five years for making out with a fifteen year old Stephanie had met once or twice. She didn’t particularly like the girl, nor did she like Dean’s friend. The girl seemed like she was only with him to rebel against her parents, and they filed a complaint. Dean was pissed, and the girl was heartbroken.

He knew the consequences. He had to know them.

She blinked back her tears, ignored the mental pull to think about the events leading up to the unowned bed, and washed her hair.

–

clark broke the bus. otw to pick you up.

Stephanie stared at her phone.

ur coming now?????

Quickly followed by,

jason its one in the afternoon i thought i was coming over for dinner
And then,

why was clark here???? how did he break every bus in the city???

In the minutes that followed, her phone was silent, lest from the notification of acquaintances going on Instagram lives that no one would watch. She leapt up, yanking a brush through her still damp hair and digging through her draws for a bra that wasn’t yet in shambles. Stephanie put on the sweater that was the least wrinkled, a soft blue one with a neckline so wide it seemed to be perpetually falling off of her shoulder, and a pair of loose jeans that had belonged to her mother in college.

Her phone dinged.

he just broke a couple. B told Dick to go and pick you up but i offered since i know where you live. stop texting, im trying to drive. im around five minutes away i think.

Stephanie’s attention was immediately drawn to her mirror, to the dark circles under her eyes and the acne scars littering her cheeks. She sighed, and grabbed a lip balm and tube of mascara, shoving them into her pockets. She could do her mascara in Jason’s truck.

“Hey mom?” She called out, and she was quickly met with some sort of noise of acknowledgement. “I’m going to go to Cassandra’s for dinner. She’s outside to pick me up.”

“Alright!” Her mom called back. “Have fun!”

Stephanie let out a small breath of relief at the fact that her mom didn’t want to come downstairs with her to say hello to Cass, because it would be more than a little odd for her mother to see the legally dead ward of the Wayne family all grown up with a cigarette in his lips, even more so for Stephanie to be greeting him with familiarity and climbing into his vehicle without a second thought.

After running down a few flights of stairs, she scanned the apartment’s parking lot for Jason. It took her a minute to find him, solely because the truck had been replaced with a dark red minivan.

“What happened to the truck?” She asked, climbing into the passenger seat, stifling a cough. The backseat reeked of weed, which she had tried only once, and immediately refused to ever do again.

Jason shoved a cigarette butt into an ashtray placed in a cup holder. There was a pair of fuzzy pink dice hanging from the rearview mirror. He shrugged.

“Sorry no one told you I was coming sooner.” He said, leaning out of the window as he backed out of the lot. “I assumed one of the kids did.”

Stephanie laughed, pulling down the sun visor and opening the little mirror to do her mascara as he drove. “You say that like you’re so much older than us.”

“Big difference between fifteen and twenty.” A brick dropped into Stephanie’s stomach and her mouth went dry. One set of eyelashes looked much thicker than the other.

She swallowed.

“Tim’s practically seventeen. Duke’s nearly eighteen.”

“Still a big difference.” He said, and turned on the radio as Stephanie finished her mascara.

After a few moments of silence, he asked “Been to any more parties recently?”

“What’s it to you if I have?” She snapped, suddenly feeling like a child being interrogated about something she indisputably did, though she hadn’t been to one since Jason took her away from Dean that day.

Jason’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Nothing, chill. Just trying to make conversation.”

“Sorry.”

He made a sort of grunt.

“Have you?” She asked.

“Have I what?”

“Y’know. Been to any parties.”

“No, Stephanie. I have not.”

“Just trying to make conversation.” She said, and the ghost of a smile danced on his lips.

Notes:

thank you all for your kind comments, they really do mean the world :) genuinely cannot believe i’m already at 30 kudos that is INSANE

i’ve had this chapter finished forever and had i not been dreadfully sick this past week it would’ve been uploaded sooner, super super excited about this fic, writing is definitely emotionally draining (you’ll definitely see why as we get further into it) but i knew that writing this would also be very healing for me, i am so so so so SO glad others are finding something in it as well

Chapter 4: four

Stephanie had never stopped being impressed with the sheer grandness of Wayne Manor, with its gothic fence and the columns lining the fence, the bushes that never seemed to have a leaf out of place, and the brick pathways through the gardens. The gardens.

As Jason drove through the gates, she let out a breath, and felt a weight she hadn’t before noticed drop off of her shoulders. Jason glanced at her, but didn’t speak, quickly returning his eyes to the road.

“What?” She asked.

He just shook his head, and she huffed in frustration, pulling her legs into the seat.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Nothing. You just seem stressed ‘s all.”

She was quiet as she picked at the grime caked underneath her fingernails. He parked, but the car was still running. He wasn’t letting her get anywhere until she said something he deemed acceptable.

“My mom’s home again. On a shit ton of drugs, I think. Not sure which ones.”

He took the keys out of the ignition.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice soft. She knew that he meant it.

–

Jason told her that he had absolutely no idea when dinner was, and that he had absolutely no idea if he would be staying. He also had no idea where “the kids” were. She let him know that she appreciated the wealth of information he provided, and he gave her a brief salute as they started off in opposite directions.

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

Dick Grayson was laid out on a couch in one of multiple TV rooms, with his legs thrown in the lap of a ginger who Stephanie vaguely recognized. He had an unpleasant expression on his face, but he offered her a half smile when she leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms loosely.

“Do you know where Cass is? Jason wasn’t much help.” She said, and after a moment, “Oh, I’m Stephanie by the way.”

The ginger smirked. “I know. We’ve met.”

“Oh shit.” She said quickly, her eyes widening. “Red Arrow?”

“Mhm.”

Dick kicked him in the side. “Roy.” He said. “Harper. One of Ollie’s kids. We were Titans together.” Dick laid down further, propping his feet up on the end of the sofa, legs still in Roy’s lap. “She’s in Tim’s room, I think. Nice to see you again.”

“You too.” She said, leaving the room as Dick began to fuss at Roy for being rude to her.

She hesitated for a moment at the staircase, squeezing the railing until her hand was sore. She bit her tongue, and let muscle memory take over. Stephanie knew this house, and as long as there was life left in her legs, they would be able to find their way to the bedroom of Timothy Drake.

–

 

“I just don’t understand how one person can be so completely stupid!” Tim’s voice carried down the hall, and Stephanie considered if she should sit outside the room and pretend to show up in a few minutes. She had been on the receiving end of Tim’s anger more than a few times, and she wasn’t in the mood to have that happen today. “If a high school student knows more than you, about the subject you’re supposed to be teaching me, maybe there’s some sort of an issue.”

Stephanie pushed the door open. “You’re not a normal high schooler Tim. You never have been, even before you were a Bat.”

“Fuck you, Steph.” She rolled her eyes.

Tim was on the floor sitting cross legged, a red pillow in his lap and his sticker-covered laptop atop that. His back was hunched over, hair hanging in his face as he typed away angrily. Cassandra was in his bed, laying on her stomach. She too was holding a red pillow, clasped closely to her chest. Her feet were in the air, and she was swinging them back and forth, pausing only to move over to make room for Stephanie on the bed.

The choppy bangs she had cut with a pair of kitchen scissors a few weeks earlier hung just past her brows, and the rest of her hair barely hit her chin. The moment Stephanie laid beside her, she leaned in, resting the side of her head against Stephanie’s shoulder.

“What teacher is this?” Stephanie asked, and Tim huffed.

“Cole, Mrs. Cole. It’s fucking yearbook, how hard is it to teach fucking yearbook?”

Cassandra motioned for her phone, and Tim handed it to her. “Perhaps you should be a teacher.” She said, unlocking it to open whatever useless mobile game Dick had introduced her to that week. “You cannot be the only student who feels this frustrated. You would be good at it.”

Tim snorted.

“Kindergarten, maybe.” Stephanie added. “I’m sure the kids would love you and your positive attitude.”

Tim sighed. “I need new friends, I think, before you should expect me to be so positive.”

“What?” Stephanie asked, a smile on her face. “Is your sister and your ex-girlfriend not good enough?”

—

Alfred had made some sort of pasta, something with sausage and lots of vegetables she didn’t know the name of, and it was, quite possibly, one of the best things Stephanie had ever eaten. The taste was still on her tongue as she climbed into Cassandra’s bed.

She was wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt that had belonged to one of the Wayne boys at one point, though Cassandra couldn’t tell her which.

The sweater and jeans she had arrived in were discarded in a pile on the floor, and the familiarity of it, the way this room felt more homey to her than her own ever had, made her stomach flip over with something resembling nostalgia for something without an end in sight.

Cassandra had gotten in the bed first, and the moment Stephanie’s head hit the pillow, Cassandra’s arm was around Stephanie’s waist. She sniffed as she buried her face in Stephanie’s hair, before her breathing slowed.

“I missed you.” She said, as Stephanie shut her phone off for the night, placing it atop Cassandra’s on her nightstand.

“I missed you too.” Stephanie said, her mind whispering a silent prayer of thanks for Alfred’s cooking, casual touch, and Cassandra Cain. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and though her back was sore, though she had eaten a bit more than she thought she should have, she was the happiest she had been in weeks.

Cassandra was twirling bits of Stephanie’s hair around her fingers, and the gentle tug of it left a smile on Stephanie’s face. She moved closer, pressing her back into Cassandra’s chest.

“Are you still seeing Dean?” Cassandra asked. Stephanie stiffened. “You haven’t mentioned him in a while.”

The air seemed to grow colder as the silence grew.

There was a tear on the pillow, and it took Stephanie a moment to realize it was her’s. Cassandra stopped playing with her hair.

“No.” Stephanie said, her voice coming out small. “No, he did some stuff I really didn’t like. I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks. I blocked him, he hasn’t tried to reach out.”

“What stuff?” Cassandra asked after a moment. Stephanie wanted to roll and face her, but her body refused to move.

“Um. He roofied me, I think. You know what that is, right?”

“Yes.” Cassandra said, but then after a moment, added “Drugs?”

Stephanie nodded. “Yeah.” Her voice began to break. “We were making out and I wasn’t liking it, he just kept- shoving into me? There was nothing pleasurable about it. Everything was starting to get weird and I was tired so I asked if we could stop, but then I was asleep and my skirt was gone and my boobs were out and I felt like someone had driven a truck through me.” She was sobbing now, each gasp a desperate prayer for air to return to her lungs.

“You were raped.” Cassandra said, as if she had to confirm it for herself, and Stephanie finally willed her body to move, slamming into Cassandra’s chest, breathing her in and soaking her clothes with tears.

Cassandra was frozen for a moment while Stephanie clung to her, before her arms wrapped protectively around the back of her head and her ribcage.

“He isn’t here now.” Cassandra said. “I have you. He will not touch you ever again. I have you.”

Notes:

sorry that this took so long to get out, my chronic illness has been flaring up like crazy recently and I just have not had the time to write something of quality. should be back to weekly-ish updates going forward tho :)

Chapter 5: five

Notes:

so so sorry that this chapter is on the sorter end and that its been so long since the last update, ive been swamped with schoolwork and scholarship applications, i graduate in about two weeks so chapters should be more frequent over the summer :) no clue what my update schedule will look like once i make it to college but i will do my best to keep monthly updates at the absolute minimum

The first period Stephanie missed, she didn’t question a thing. She was more stressed than she had been in years, and she would miss a period over nothing more than a big test. The second, however, was cause for concern.

Beneath her apartment and one block over, there was a CVS. It was one of the ones with glass over everything, even the three dollar nail polish bottles. This included the pregnancy tests. Additionally, there were no self checkouts. Meaning, Stephanie would have to ask an associate not only to unlock the glass for her, but she would also have to stand awkwardly while they passed the test over the scanner, asked her if she wanted a bag, asked her if she had the twenty five cents to pay for a bag, and told her to have a nice day.

Stephanie woke up, and checked her sheets for blood. Maybe it was just late.

They were clean.

She plunged her hand into her shorts, feeling for any sort of dampness, which again, nothing.

Her body shook as she went down the stairs and down the sidewalk. She thought about considering her options, before she realized that she was already assuming she was… she didn’t want to think the word.

She was wearing a Panic at the Disco shirt she had bought at Goodwill in middle school during whatever phase you would call it, and a pair of sweatpants. She hated thinking about how recent middle school was. Actually, she hated a lot of things, such as the United States government, sexual assault, brussel sprouts, Dean, people who chewed with their mouths open, shorts that ran into her ass, and her father.

They kept the pregnancy tests in the same aisle as the condoms, one they called “family planning”. She thought a more fitting title would be “anti-family planning”, but the chain had not asked her opinions on it.

Stephanie scanned over the prices, remembering vaguely that she had seen online that the cheaper they were, the better they worked. She hit the button for someone to help her.

The man who came was older, with dark skin and grey hair, and he seemed to do a double take when he looked at the aisle, empty aside from Stephanie.

“The three dollar one, please.” She said, forcing the words out of her throat. Her hands were cold and her body shook.

He nodded, unlocking the case and handing it to her, not meeting her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispered.

“Good luck.”

—

 

She sat on her bathroom floor, the tile cool against her palms. Her legs were crossed like she had been instructed to cross them during circle time in preschool. She set a timer for five minutes, blinked back her tears, and waited.

Five minutes had never felt so long.

The test itself sat on the sink, hanging off the side ever so slightly. Her stomach flipped over itself, and she called Cassandra.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

They were silent for a few moments, until Stephanie cleared her throat, and said “What are you doing right now?”

“Homework,” Cass replied. “Why? Do you need me?”

Stephanie almost had to stifle a laugh. She always needed Cassandra. That was not what was out of the ordinary.

“Yeah.” She said. “Any chance you could come over?” Stephanie heard the sound of a textbook closing and papers rustling through the phone.
“What is happening? Are you okay?”

“I’ll explain when you get here.” Stephanie said, chewing on her bottom lip. It was a nasty habit that she needed to break, but now wasn’t the time for her to be focused on fixing her nervous habits.

Cassandra let out a brief, quiet sigh. “Okay. I will be there in a few minutes.” After a moment, she added, “Is your mother home? Can I come in through the window, or should I use the door?”

This time, Stephanie didn’t hold back her laugh. “Yeah, you can come through the window.”

–

The sound of her timer ending reverberated around the small bathroom, and Stephanie thought she was about to vomit. She flipped the test over.

Positive.

A little pink plus sign sat before her, making the world spin and her stomach turn.

Her knees gave out first.

She hit the floor with a painful thud, though the cry that left her lips wasn’t from any sort of physical injury. She was fifteen. Fifteen. Saying that she wasn’t ready to be a mother was a dramatic understatement.

Stephanie was still gasping for air when Cassandra came into the bathroom. She hadn’t heard the window open.

“Stephanie?” Cassandra said in a half-whisper, concern dripping from her voice. “Stephanie, I am here. What is wrong?”

Cassandra crouched down on the floor, her brows furrowed. She reached out a hand, placing it on Stephanie’s cheek, lifting her head up so that they were facing one another. Stephanie pressed into her touch, grateful that Cassandra’s hands were so warm and so soft. It only took a moment for Cass to notice the test, lying on the ground a few feet away, where Stephanie had thrown it after reading the results.

“Oh.” Cassandra said. “Oh no.”

Stephanie lay there for a few minutes, her head on Cassandra’s thighs, crying until there was no water left in her body, when footsteps echoed through the house. They were heavier than her mother’s, but she still grabbed the test and shoved it deep into her pocket, just in case.

Jason Todd stood in the doorway of the bathroom, his arms crossed and his face twisted with worry. “What the fuck did you do, Stephanie Brown?”

Notes:

five chapters to get to the main plotpoint! woohoo! hope you all enjoyed, thank you so much for all your comments :) reader feedback means the world to me

Chapter 6: six

Notes:

talk of abortion in this chapter, want to be very clear that i am EXTREMELY pro choice whatever that choice is. please no discourse in the comments.

“What the fuck did you do, Stephanie Brown?”

Her eyes burned as she attempted to blink back tears, her face red and blotchy with the embarrassment of crying in front of her best friend’s older brother, and her voice felt perpetually trapped inside her throat.

“Do you remember,” She said slowly, her eyes closed, her hand in Cassandra’s, “When you told me about Dean Davis?”

She waited what felt like a lifetime for a response. “Yeah.”

“I was dating him. Was. I slept with him a few times. We were always careful.” She said, knowing it was a bit of a lie. “He…” She said, choking on her words. “When you picked me up, that was after… after he raped me.” She opened her eyes, and Jason’s once tense shoulders had fallen. “I’m pregnant.”

“Fuck, Stephanie.” He said, staring at her like one would an injured puppy on the side of the road. “Are you sure?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Pretty sure. Got every symptom in the book and the test says I am.”

Her whole body shook. Cassandra squeezed her hand tighter, and Jason sat cross legged on the floor. He took a deep breath. “Does anyone else know?”

“No one that isn’t in this room. I called Cass…” She stifled a sob. “I called Cass immediately.”

Cassandra leaned against Stephanie’s shoulder, slowly nuzzling into her neck. Stephanie could feel her shaky warm breaths, and her soft tears. Jason was silent, taking in the image of the two girls.

“Stephanie,” He said, using her name again. It was a grounding method that she was familiar with, Tim had used it on her half a million times. She wondered if he had learned it from Jason. “I’m legally dead, alright? That makes it incredibly easy to fake an identity. You’ll be harder to fake but I will figure it out. We’ll say I’m your older brother, your legal guardian, I’ll sign off on the abortion since you need a parent’s consent in this state, alright? Your mom never has to know. It never has to leave this room, Steph. I’ll take care of Dean.”

Stephanie was confident she knew what “taking care of Dean” meant, and she felt only the slightest bit of guilt for her excitement at the idea. She closed her eyes, focusing on Cassandra’s hand in her own, focusing on the roughness of her skin. She didn’t know how she felt about the thoughts bouncing around in her mind, and she didn’t know why the world seemed to start the moment she picked up the test. Nothing before mattered, nothing before had ever mattered, nothing before had even been real.

“What if I don’t want to?”

The words were out of her mouth before she had even thought them.

“Stephanie Brown,” He said. “Don’t you play with me. You are not ready to be a mother. Do not try and tell me that you are, do not try and convince me that you could become ready within the next what, eight months?”

“No, like…” She said, huffing the words out. She hated how conscious she suddenly was of her stomach, of the way the fat sat against her bones and the way it sat inside her. “Have you seen Juno?”

Jason snorted.

“Yeah, I’ve fucking seen Juno, Stephanie.” He was looking at her with such anger that for one of the first times Stephanie could understand the fear the name Red Hood struck in the hearts of those of Gotham. “You aren’t doing that. You aren’t going to do some fucking adoption, closed or open or otherwise. You’re not going to go through hell for nine months for someone else, not for anyone. Do you know how many papers I’d have to fake for that?”

“I could… I could tell my mom.” Stephanie sniffed, looking only at the tiled floor. “She had me as a teenager.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s gonna be okay with you popping one out.” Stephanie snorted once, before completely losing herself to laughter at the hilarity of the entire situation. She was raped, and now she was pregnant. And because she couldn’t stomach the idea of an abortion, she was defending the idea of keeping this child, keeping this fetus, this thing inside of her for nearly a year to give it to someone else.

She wasn’t even sure what it was exactly that she couldn’t handle about an abortion. Maybe the pro-life advertisements of a uterus getting violently ripped apart in the process had gotten to her. Maybe it was the fact that her mother had screamed at her more than once that she should be grateful to be alive, that she herself had considered an abortion for months and if she had chosen it, Stephanie wouldn’t be here.

Maybe it was something else entirely.

But whatever it was, she couldn’t do it. She knew she couldn’t. And Jason had already decided it was the only option for her.

“Stephanie.” Cassandra said, sitting upright now, taking her other hand so that she was holding both of Stephanie’s. “You do whatever you think is right. I will be beside you the whole time.” Stephanie’s tears came back, flowing slowly and quietly down her cheeks. “But,” She said, sucking air in through her teeth. “I do agree with Jason. I think that it would be better if you got rid of it now. Before it becomes a bigger issue.”

Tentatively, Stephanie placed a hand on her lower stomach, and her tears came faster. “I…” She whispered, looking between Jason and Cassandra. “I can’t. I know you think I should, but I can’t. I have to make that choice for myself. I’ll deal with the consequences. I got myself into this situation, it’s my fault I’m here, I will figure it out, whatever that means and whatever that looks like.”

The bathroom was silent for a moment, aside from Stephanie’s quiet sniffles and gasps for air.

“Stephanie, don’t you ever fucking say that this is your fault. You can choose what happens now, even if I don’t agree with you, but this is not your fucking fault. I will say it as many times as it takes to get it through your head. None of this is your fault.”

Chapter 7: seven

The plastic waiting room chair was cool against Stephanie’s thighs, unprotected by her short-short denim shorts.

Jason sat to her right, and he kept periodically glancing at Stephanie’s bouncing leg. He was wearing a light pink polo shirt he had apparently (according to Cassandra) found in Bruce’s closet, and a pair of jeans, his combat boots still glued to his feet. The shirt did not hide his sleeves of tattoos, nor the scars littered across his face, nor the strip of white hair that hung just past his eyebrow. That is to say, it did nothing to soften his appearance, as she assumed it was meant to.

“I can still schedule the abortion.” Jason said, not meeting her eyes. His arms were folded across his chest, his gaze soft.

“No, Jason.” Stephanie said, digging her nails into her palms. It was exactly two weeks from the day she had found out, and she was seated in the waiting room of a hospital across the city (as far away from the one her mother worked at as she could manage) with Jason, whose last name, according to his shiny new ID, was Brown.

“Alright.” He said, still not meeting her eyes. “I’ll respect it.” He paused. “Just can’t understand why you’re putting yourself through this. If you change your mind, just let me know. It won’t be too late.”

Stephanie herself could not decipher why she was putting herself through this. In fact, every moment that she had to herself was spent trying to talk her mind into an abortion, into an ‘easy’ way out, into something that didn’t involve telling her mother, something that didn’t involve gaining forty pounds, something that didn’t involve possibly tying herself to Dean permanently–

“Jason?” She asked, tapping him on the elbow. “Was taking care of Dean contingent on the abortion?”

His eyes widened for a moment, before setting into something of a smile that made Stephanie nervous. “No.” He said. “Not at all.”

“Stephanie?” A woman called, causing Steph to nearly jump out of her skin. Jason punched her lightly in the arm.

“That’s us.” He whispered. “C’mon.”

–

At first, the doctor only confirmed what she had told her on the phone. That she was three months, counting from her last period. If she smoked or drank, which she didn’t. If she was around anyone regularly who smoked or drank, which she was. If she was on any medication, which she wasn’t, unless you counted Flintstone vitamins that tasted like fruit-flavored chalk. Then the doctor announced that they were going to the ultrasound room.

“Already?” She blurted before she thought better of it. The doctor nodded.

“Mhm.” She said, nodding. “It’s normally done between six and nine weeks, so we’re right on schedule.”

“Okay.” Stephanie breathed, glancing at Jason, who gave what she took as a supportive nod.

“Would you like your brother to come with us, or do you want him to stay here? It’s whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“My–” Stephanie began, before she remembered Jason’s new identity. “Can he come?” The doctor nodded as Stephanie realized she didn’t know Jason’s comfort level with accompanying her, but when she looked at him to try and gauge his expression, he was already making his way to the door.

The ultrasound room was dark and cold, the only light coming from the various screens across the room. There was a thin medical cot with a chair on one side and a rolling stool on the other. Stephanie’s legs felt weak.

Though she would never admit it out loud, she had dreamed of that room more times than she could count. She had dreamed of the day she found out she was pregnant for years, dreamed of showing the test to her partner and their arms wrapping around her. She had dreamed of watching her stomach grow, of her partner’s hands cradling it every night as they fell asleep, their whole family laying there together. But that was not now. Now, she was scared and alone and a teenage girl. She would never forgive Dean for what he took from her.

Jason squeezed her shoulder as the doctor took her seat on the stool, and she turned to face him. “Hey,” He said, looking her in the eyes, his thick eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re doing great, alright?”

Stephanie blinked back tears, and nodded.

“Pull your shirt up for me, okay?” The doctor said as Stephanie laid down, and she did as the doctor said.

“I know it’s cold in here, and this is probably going to make it worse.” She said as she squirted some sort of jelly onto Stephanie’s abdomen. She began to spread it around with a plastic wand, hitting a few buttons on her computer, and Jason offered her his hand. She took it without a moment’s hesitation.

The doctor smiled at her. “Ready to see your baby?” Stephanie took a breath, and nodded. Her baby, she repeated in her mind. Hers. Not Dean’s. Hers. Hers. Hers. Her body. Her baby. Her body. Her baby. The doctor spun the screen around, and Stephanie’s heart beat faster than she thought possible.

They were no more than a vaguely human shaped blob, really. But on that grey and black screen, there were legs. There were arms. There was a head with a little face that Stephanie couldn’t make out, but it was there. There, inside of her. Her baby. Her baby inside of her.

“Steph.” Jason whispered in her ear, leaning closer to her. “Your jaw’s on the floor, and you’re about to break every bone in my hand. How you doing?”

Stephanie just blinked, and then the tears began to fall.

Notes:

SO sorry that this post is so late, my physical health made a turn for the worst this summer and getting out of bed most days was near impossible (gotta love chronic illness) BUT i am on some new medication (just in time for the new academic year!! thank GOD) and doing much better :) sorry for such a short chapter, but I should have chapter 8 out soon :) thank you all for being patient and thank you for reading !!!!!!!!

Chapter 8: eight

Notes:

another shorter chapter, i apologize. i don't have chapters mapped out, only scenes, and the next few scenes feel too separate from this, so i decided to end it here. hope you enjoy!!

Stephanie and Jason sat in the parking lot of the hospital, Jason with his head pressed against the steering wheel of his stolen truck, and Stephanie with her face pressed into her knees, hyperventilating.

She wailed openly and loudly, spit trailing down her chin and mixing with the mucus running from her nose. She hadn’t stopped crying since seeing Dean’s baby. The doctor had printed a few photos and slipped them into an envelope she had handed Jason. In fact, she had only spoke about Stephanie rather than to her once she began crying. Jason had scheduled the next appointment. Jason had placed his hand on her back and guided her out of the hospital. Jason had unlocked the truck and helped her in.

He had come inside of her, Dean had. Dean had spiked her drink and knocked her out and raped her. Her boyfriend, who she had slept with consensually countless times, had drugged her and raped her to fulfill some sort of power fantasy. Dean Davis. Who Jason had known and hated.

“Steph, what do you need from me right now?” Jason whispered, his eyes on his feet, his hands on the top of the wheel. “Are you hungry? Do you want to run through a drive through?”

She let out a wet laugh. “Are you hungry?”

“No. But I’ll get something if you don’t want to eat alone.”

She sniffled, trying to catch her breath. “No.”

Stephanie rumaged through the glove box for a moment, pulling out a fistfull of napkins, and wiped at her face, blew her nose. The napkins were rough against her skin, making it redder than it already was.

“Is Cass at home?” She said, pulling the seatbelt over her chest, refusing to look at her stomach.

“Yeah,” Jason said, scratching at the back of his head. “You want me to take you there?” She nodded, and he started the truck.

“Stephanie,” He said, just as she began to gnaw on her lower lip. “I fucking hate him, I just want you to know that.”

She nodded as well as she could with her cheek against her knee.

“I can’t promise he’ll still be here when I’m done with him.” He said, and Stephanie bit harder on her lip.

“Okay.” She said, and a sad smile appeared on Jason’s lips.

“You’re okay with that?”

She nodded. “Good.”

–

Stephanie was crying again by the time they made it to the door of Wayne Manor. Alfred opened the door, and looked the pair of them up and down with a worried expression.

“Young Cassandra told me about your situation, Miss Brown.” He said after a moment, and she looked up at him. Jason’s hand was on her back again, his thumb rubbing in slow circles. “I am terribly sorry.”

Stephanie just nodded, looking at her shoes.

“Is Cass in her room?” Jason asked as they walked in, his hand falling from her back as he unlaced his boots. Alfred nodded, and Jason turned to Stephanie. “You want me to walk you there?” He asked, his eyes softer than she had ever seen them.

She shook her head. “I’ll be okay.” She said, and the shakiness of her voice did not contribute to her point. He nodded.

“Grab me before you leave.”

“Okay.” She said, for the first time realizing the oddness of her newfound relationship with Jason Todd.

–

Cassandra was on her bed, a fluffy white blanket around her shoulders, reading a paperback so beat up Stephanie could not make out the title when she walked in. Stephanie’s breath was choppy and shallow, and she held the doorknob as she moved, worried that without something to steady herself she would collapse.

“Stephanie?” Cassandra said, cocking her head to the side and setting her book down on her bedside table.

Stephanie let out a small whimper.

“Stephanie…” Cassandra repeated, in what was almost a whisper. She did not make any move to stand, but she opened her arms, the blanket still balancing on her shoulders. Stephanie crawled into her arms, knees folded to her breast, and began to sob even more openly than she did in the truck.

Cassandra wrapped her in the blanket, blocking some of the already soft lighting from reaching Stephanie’s eyes.

“I have got you.” Cassandra said quietly, stroking Stephanie’s hair. “I have got you.”

Stephanie wailed.

“You do not have to talk. I won’t ask any questions until you are ready.”

Stephanie nodded against her. Cassandra did not sway as she held Stephanie, nor did she shush her. She made no attempt to stop her crying, nor did she make Stephanie feel like she needed to stop. Cassandra simply let her be.

After what felt like an hour and a day, Stephanie sniffled, rubbed her nose, and asked “Do you have tissues?” Cassandra said nothing, but leaned over and grabbed a box, which she then handed to Stephanie. Stephanie wiped the mucus off her face, and blew her nose, sighing as she leaned deeper into Cassandra’s chest. Cassandra’s arms were around Stephanie's waist now, squeezing her just tight enough to be reassuring but not so tight that it was uncomfortable.

“They did an ultrasound today. I wasn’t expecting it. I dunno, I guess I should’ve Googled what to expect.”

Cassandra placed her chin on the top of Stephanie’s head.

“I saw the baby.”

Cassandra’s grip tightened.

“I hated it. I hated seeing them and I’m afraid I might hate them too. I know I hate them being inside me.”

“You are allowed to hate it.” Cassandra said, after a long silence. “You are allowed to hate them.”

“They didn’t do anything wrong, though.” Stephanie argued, biting her tongue to stop the tears from starting again. “They didn’t ask for this to happen to me.” Cassandra didn’t say anything, but she breathed deeply, sliding her hands underneath Stephanie’s shirt, her fingers resting on Steph’s bare waist.
“I know.” She said. “But you are still allowed to hate them.”

Some part of Stephanie hated how calm Cassandra was, and the other part of her loved her for it.

“They deserve to be loved.”

“Are you not finding someone to adopt them? I am sure they will be loved by their parents.”

Something about that made Stephanie feel like she was going to throw up. “But I’m their mother now. They deserve to have always been loved. And I’ve already failed at that.”

“Oh Stephanie.” Cassandra said, her voice breaking for the first time. “You haven’t failed at anything.”

Notes:

im sorry that i havent been replying to comments, I promise im reading them all!! I just started college and i am stressed out of my mind BUT writing this is a nice release from stress so hopefully (with the exception of midterms and finals weeks) ill be updating fairly regularly.