#I ALSO HAD... NO IDEA WHO TO YEET THIS AT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starmocha · 2 months ago

Text

from osmanthus to snowdrop

[Zayne/Reader ★ 16.2K words ★ Masterlist ★ Snowdrop Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] “Might already be carrying my baby,” he continued, “You like this thought, don’t you?” chapters ★ one | two | three | four | five tag list: beneath cut 【 request to be added 】

A/N: Sometimes you let your intrusive thoughts win and casually mention, "hey, what if sweet little baby Snowdrop from my toddler series was conceived from Zayne and MC's brat taming and breeding session" and your followers enabled you....... THIS IS THEIR FAULT (I love you guys, pls keep enabling me and my shenanigans 🥺💖) Inspired by two past blurbs I had written: “Afternoon Lessons” and “Lesson Learned (?)”. You can also follow the madness that is the Snowdrop Conception Fic to see how far down the rabbit hole I was yeeted into. Anyway. Chapter 1 of 5. Updated whenever I fancy. Bye. 💖

You almost wished the honeymoon period would never end, feeling like this time alone with Zayne was truly special. The wedding had been five months earlier, and as expected, many people were surprised that there was no immediate baby announcement.

You had heard some hushed whispers, seen the curious looks in their eyes, but of course, it would be so rude of them to walk straight up to you or Zayne and start asking questions. It wasn’t any of their business, really.

Truthfully, the topic of family had come up between you and Zayne prior to the marriage. Zayne, as always, wanted to be prepared, to make sure there was no miscommunications or misconception between the two of you. It was so long ago, so you couldn’t quite remember who had initiated the conversation first.

It was probably during one of those late nights in bed together. The world was quiet and a comforting stillness settled, and you had laid with him, enjoying each other’s warmth. Even in the worst calamity ever, Zayne’s presence always seemed to ground you, bringing you peace and comfort. You had hoped you were the same for him, wanting to offer him the same serenity he had always brought to you and be the sanctuary he needed when the world wore him down.

Now after marriage came the baby carriage, but it didn’t mean it had to happen immediately, you had thought, or even at all. Babies were still the furthest things from your mind, as there were other important matters in your life you had valued more. You had your career, your youth and time, and also your new husband. You wanted to enjoy these first few months as newlyweds with your husband, keeping this fleeting precious private time to just the two of you.

It didn’t mean you did not occasionally enjoy indulging in the idea of having a baby with him. In fact, you knew Zayne was particularly turned on by the notion of impregnating you with his baby. You had seen it in the way he would sometimes caress your flat belly, and over time, you were the one who experimented with treading that fine line, learning for yourself just how much this aroused him.

As it turned out, you also enjoyed this, too. You loved the very idea of him leaving you with a part of him to carry, something permanent to bind you and him together for life. The idea of being pregnant with his child would also be, in a way, an open display of not only his love for you, but a possessive hold he had.

Of course, sweet as he was, Zayne would never pressure you into having a baby if you weren’t ready yet. Thankfully, you were on birth control, so at the very least, you were able to indulge in his fantasy a little, keep him satiated in a way only you could.

The sweet honeymoon period seemed so endless, like it could last forever and ever as you both basked in marital bliss together. You enjoyed this intimate period alone with Zayne, waking up in bed with him, catching a late lunch together from time to time, or getting whisked away for a last-minute weekend getaway. You enjoyed moments like those, getting lost together with him in new cities, gorging on delicious meals and pastries with him, and curled up in bed with him, enjoying each other’s company, whispering sweet nothings, and lazing away together as if all of the time in the world was yours and yours alone.

Alone with him. Together with him.

Everything about this time with him was so romantic and exhilarating, feeling like your own private movie where you two starred in the leading roles of your very own love story. You couldn’t imagine wanting any of this to end, or anything to disrupt this time between you and him.

Everything was perfect as is.

Then, one day, as you and Zayne sat eating Sunday brunch together at a bistro in downtown Linkon City, you noticed a baby at the next table. She still seemed fairly young, though you weren’t familiar enough with such young children to even guess how old she was. The baby’s parents, however, were about the same age as you and Zayne, you noted. They looked like new parents taking their little one out for the first time since she was born.

They looked so overjoyed. You couldn’t help but admired the beautiful couple and their baby. There was something charming about this new family. The couple seemed so enthralled and enamored with their little one, delighting in every movement and every expression shown no matter how miniscule or innocuous they seemed to other bystanders. To them, she was their whole universe.

You vaguely wondered if such parental love was common, an instinctive nature that would come along in time. To love someone this young so immensely, you wondered if later in life when you and Zayne had your own little family, would this same love come so naturally to you?

Unknowingly, you were smiling along, startling only when the baby appeared to notice you and gurgled happily, her little arm reaching out for you from a table away.

Unconsciously, you smiled back as sweet as you could, and gave a little wave.

“Who are you waving at?” Zayne’s voice broke your trance.

“Ah—” You blushed in embarrassment at being caught, and lowered your arm, redirecting your attention to your perplexed husband. His brows furrowed in confusion, head tilted a little, as he waited for your response. You picked up your fork and poked at the soft-boiled egg on your plate, breaking its yolk and watching it smeared over your arugula salad. Shrugging, you took a bite of your meal, answering him after swallowing, “That baby at the next table was smiling at me.”

He discreetly peered at the table behind him, catching a glimpse of the couple getting ready to leave after paying for their meal. The baby also appeared to notice him over her father’s shoulder, and she reached out for Zayne, giggling and gurgling happily at him.

He chuckled and gave her a soft smile, also instinctively waving at her with just his fingers. He turned back to you with gentle eyes, commenting, “She’s cute.”

You beamed at him. “Did you see that adorable little dress she was wearing? She has such chubby little legs, I want to bite—why are you laughing at me?”

Zayne covered his mouth, suppressing his chuckles, but you could still see the twinkle of amusement in his beautiful hazel eyes. He apologized with a smile, reaching across the table for your hand. You felt his thumb brushing over your fingers as he responded to you, “You’ve never spoken about children in such a way.”

“What way? What do you mean?” You frowned in confusion.

“That is…” He seemed to hesitate with his explanation, causing you to urge him to finish his thought. With a sigh, he resumed, speaking carefully, “One might… assume you were interested.”

“Interested?”

“Having a baby.”

“O-Oh…” Your cheeks pinked in embarrassment. Suddenly, this bistro seemed so much warmer than it was earlier. With Zayne’s steady gaze still on you, you tried to maintain your composure, though the words he had just planted in your head made you more flustered than you realized. “I mean… that is going to happen eventually. We’ve talked about it before.”

He nodded in understanding. “I hope you don’t think I am seizing this as an opportunity to bring this discussion back into the picture?”

“No, no, of course not,” you reassured him. “It just… hit me suddenly.”

“Hm?”

You averted your gaze with him, shifting your sight back down to your plate of food, but suddenly you weren’t that interested in the meal anymore. Your free hand held a fork as you poked at the avocado on your plate. Zayne didn’t rush your response, but you couldn’t help but still felt a pressure looming over you, and you pondered over your words before you gathered your courage to speak more openly with him, “What if… we do circle back to this topic?”

“Are you suggesting…?”

“Zayne, I—I think I’m ready to try for a baby,” you said quickly in one breath, your cheeks getting even hotter now. You could hear him breathed in quickly, his hand still holding yours tightened, his thumb brushing over your fingers faster.

When Zayne didn’t say anything, you mustered up your courage and glanced up, your heart beating faster when you saw the smile on his face. There was a dark gleam in his eyes, and you could practically see the wheels spinning in his head.

“We should… discuss this more at home tonight,” he said, voice lowered. You could almost hear a rasp in his voice, his suggestive tone nearly made you tremble in anticipation for the night, sensing there would actually be very little words exchanged between you both.

During the mostly silent drive home, there was a tension not quite different from when you and Zayne had first dated a few years ago. After leaving the bistro earlier in the day, you could hardly remember what you and Zayne did during your city outing, having been distracted all day by the conversation you both were planning on having later tonight.

Likewise, it felt like Zayne was just as distracted as you were. Throughout the day, he had responded with only monosyllable words, or sometimes he had just made a short noise either affirming or otherwise. Normally so quick-witted and sharp-tongued, today his mind appeared to be elsewhere as he went through the motions of the afternoon. The most shocking behavior change that you recalled from your husband, however, was his refusal to stop by a dessert shop for a treat or to buy something to bring home.

There was a sweeter treat Zayne had his eyes on. It had occupied his mind from the moment you had told him you were ready to have a baby. The dream future he had been waiting on was just within reach, and knowing you were ready to head down this path with him had him more elated than he would have ever thought possible.

With his eyes on the road, Zayne kept one hand on your thigh while the other gripped the steering wheel. You felt the way Zayne was rubbing along your thigh, occasionally squeezing, not even noticing his own actions until he heard your soft surprised gasp.

He apologized immediately, ears tinging red, almost unnoticeable with the sky darkening as the sun set.

“It’s alright,” you told him, though your heart was picking up speed and there was a coil forming in your belly. You placed your hand over his restless one, squeezing him back in reassurance.

As you silently consoled him, you felt your own nerves going haywire. You had opened a gate today, and though you knew Zayne would always let you have the final say whenever you wanted, always giving you room to back out if ultimately you changed your mind, you wondered if that was even something you needed to consider.

You loved Zayne. You wanted a family with him someday. That much you were sure of, so maybe, you wondered, that ‘someday’ had perhaps arrived today.

You peeked at his side profile, admiring his handsome sharp features. Unwittingly, you pictured a little mini-him. A mini-Zayne.

Without realizing it, you started to smile, delighting in the image forming in your mind. Zayne was so good with children. The children at Akso Hospital adored him. He may seem cold to most people at first, but to those willing to approach him, they would see how truly warm and caring he was, always prioritizing others before himself.

You knew in your heart the depths of his love would know no bounds for his child.

Along with the smooth drive home, the anxiety you were feeling earlier ebbed away the more you pondered over this. You still felt a sense of nervousness, knowing that he and you were going to embark down a path that would change the course of your lives forever. It would no longer be just the two of you, but perhaps, there was a different kind of joy, a new adventure awaiting you both in the future.

You and him and your little one.

You smiled softly, letting your mind drift further away as you watched the scenery passed by outside the car window.

The sun disappeared over the horizon, the last streaks of purple and orange giving way to twinkling stars as the car made a turn into your neighborhood. Streetlamps lit up one by one, lighting the way home down the quiet, near vacant road.

Once Zayne pulled into the driveway, you both exited the car, entering the dark house silently. Before you could even turn on the lights, Zayne grabbed your wrist, twirling you around and pinning you to the nearest wall. Your eyes widened in surprise when he gripped both of your wrists with one hand, holding them above your head as he leaned forward, his head bent lower to meet your gaze.

“Zayne—”

His lips crashed upon yours, swallowing your voice as he kissed you feverishly with only a few words slipping out in between.

“My baby…” he husked, breaking away just long enough to look at you, to search for any lingering doubts in your eyes, “Are you sure… you’re ready?”

Your heart beat faster again, cheeks flushed from his earlier intense kisses. You didn’t think he was going to be this impatient with circling back to this topic, having expected a more composed conversation on the couch or perhaps seated across one another at the dining table. Instead, whatever thoughts Zayne had been mulling over during the silent drive home had reached its peak and he was no longer willing to drag out this conversation another second.

“Yes… Yes,” you responded.

Your words didn’t seem to reassure him. He looked hesitant, as if he was afraid that this could just be a spur of the moment thought. You knew he prioritized your wellbeing above his own desires, and you also knew that he was aware of your impulsive nature. Of the two of you, he had taken on the role to be the one to hold onto any semblance of rationality, and in this moment, that was still true with how admirably he still managed to maintain that thinning hold of self-control.

You wriggled against Zayne, silently urging him to remove his hand from your wrists. He obliged, and just as quickly, you threw your arms around his neck, returning his earlier intense kisses tenfold.

Zayne stumbled back in surprise, one arm instantly around your waist to steady you.

“I’m not being flighty,” you told him firmly. “I’m serious this time.”

“You—”

“I’m not messing with you this time,” you insisted, feeling your emotions were heightening suddenly. You pleaded with him, “Zayne…”

He reached down, cupping your face in his hands, keeping his sight on you. He breathed in deeply, taking in the sincere tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

“I want a baby,” you told him resolutely, emphasizing strongly, “your baby.”

Zayne breathed in sharply, feeling like time had just stopped. The words you had just spoken replayed in his mind, your earnest expression all he could see in this moment. Slowly, he smiled, letting his forehead pressed against yours.

“For real this time?”

“Uh huh,” you answered with a smile, feeling like you could drown in his beautiful green eyes. “Are you ready to fuck a baby into me?”

He laughed at your bold, outrageous question. With his tone a strange mix between amusement and exasperation, he chided you, “You’re ruining the moment.”

“I don’t care,” you answered back cheekily, leaning up to peck his nose with a kiss. “What do you say?”

“Once you are no longer on your birth control,” he started, ignoring your instant eyeroll at his sudden proper mannerism. He continued, the delight shining in his eyes revealed his true feelings on the matter in that instance before he could even finish his thought: “Absolutely.”

You almost threw your arms around his neck again, stopping only when he continued to speak, his tone suddenly stern.

“You better be ready,” he warned, a familiar smirk graced his handsome face.

You nearly trembled with anticipation, quite certain you could see a pleased, calculating glint in his eye.

Zayne was meticulous.

He did everything well.

And this…

This will be no different, you realized.

For the next several weeks, your sex life with Zayne felt more intense than past instances, since this time, you both were no longer playing out a fantasy or indulging in each other’s whims. All of those lecherous words you had exchanged before now held more truth than ever, and you answered his desires with your own, both of you having never been more in sync than during this period.

You wanted a baby, and so did Zayne.

You were no longer role-playing a secret shared fantasy.

Zayne was now actively trying to impregnate you, breeding you every chance he could. In the morning before work, or late at night when he came home, his stamina unheard of as he was always prepared to stuff your willing wet pussy with his cock, pumping you full of his virile seed until he had you crying from the intensity.

“Soon, soon,” he murmured against your ear as your legs locked around his waist, keeping him firmly to you.

“Yes… yes…” you sobbed back, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, Zaynie! I need your cum inside me. All of it. Inside me.”

His beathing grew erratic before he laughed into the crook of your neck. “You’re too much…” he said, nearly in disbelief by how uninhibited you were. He sighed heavily against you, “I’m going to lose my mind because of you.”

“You will keep me full like this, won’t you, Zayne? Please, Zaynie…”

He kissed your temple. “You’re so unfair,” he whispered, “You know I could never deny you anything.”

You cupped his face, your lips meeting his soundly, so sweetly he was pressing his weight onto you, trapping you within his hold.

“We’re not stopping,” he breathed heavily, his eyes darkened with desires, “Not until you are pregnant, my love.”

He kissed you again, ravaging your lips until you were sure they would bruise. His voice was soft, but the weight of his words stoked the growing flames of passion between you both. “Not until my baby is in your womb.”

And you knew Zayne was a man of his words.

You had thought you knew what you were expecting when you had decided to stop using protection, determined to get pregnant as soon as possible. You had expected that it would all happen immediately, but when you saw that first sign of bleeding signaling your period, you let your disappointment showed.

Zayne, as always, remained the most level-headed of the two of you.

As you curled up on the couch, under a warm blanket, hugging Mr. Seal close to your stomach, you watched as your husband approached from the kitchen with a cup of red date tea, such as he had done monthly for several years now. He sat down next to you and passed the cup over.

“Drink this,” he said, “It will help with your cramps.”

You reluctantly accepted it, taking little sips of the hot beverage. You felt a comforting warmth in your belly. You peered into the mug, your mind drifting back to linger further in your disappointments.

“Hey.”

You looked up, meeting Zayne’s gaze. His expression remained gentle and understanding, already having read you like a book, knowing full well the reason—or rather, reasons—for your current agitated state.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, taking the cup of tea back when you handed it to him. He placed it on a coaster on the coffee table and settled more comfortably on the couch, watching as you shifted over to rest against him. Instinctively, his arms were around you as he comforted you.

“No,” you whispered into his chest, feeling your eyes watering up. You quickly blinked them away.

“Alright,” he answered affably, his hand rubbing the back of your head soothingly.

You looked up, frowning. “‘Alright’?” you repeated in astonishment. “You’re not going to keep pressing?”

“You said ‘no,’” he reminded you with an insufferable, teasing smile. “Would you have also gotten upset if I had kept pursuing this discussion?”

Hearing his response, you hesitated for a moment before begrudgingly nodded in agreement.

“Ah,” he said with an exaggerated lilt in his voice, “So I take it this would have been a lose-lose situation no matter what from my position?”

You humph’d at him before burying your face back into his chest. “I think I’m allowed to be upset.”

“You are,” he agreed, smiling at your petulant attitude. He reached down, his hand holding your chin gently up so your eyes met his. Softly, he said, “It’s alright.”

From just hearing those two words spoken in his soothing tone, you felt the wall you had tried to put up breaking down and the tears you had attempted to hold back started trickling down your cheeks. Just as quickly, Zayne was cupping your face with his hands and his thumbs were already working to wipe away your tears. His voice remained calm as he comforted you while you cried silently.

You were sure you had been crying for a few minutes before you were able to compose yourself enough to speak. Suddenly, you felt a little insecure, feeling like you couldn’t fully look at him in the eyes. Reluctantly, you started to speak again, “I know I’m being silly…”

“You are allowed to feel the way you do,” he reassured you.

“But…”

“Yes?”

You looked down, feeling embarrassed. The feeling didn’t remain long, because suddenly you found yourself crying out in surprise when Zayne gathered you into his lap. You looked up shocked, eyes shutting when his warm lips met your forehead. You opened your eyes again and looked at him in confusion.

“Let’s talk.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to…”

“None of that attitude anymore,” he chided you. “You are clearly more upset than you let on, so let’s talk. You will feel better and I will also feel better.”

You tilted your head to the side in confusion at the latter part of his comment. Seeing your expression, he clarified, “I don’t like seeing you this troubled and feeling like I can’t help alleviate your frustrations or anxiety.”

His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you into a warm hug with his chin resting lightly atop your head. “Let’s help each other out,” he said, “I want to know what’s exactly on your mind and I want you to ease my own concerns.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, your hand touching his arm. You contemplated for a moment, unsure of how to put your feelings into words at first. After a few seconds, you admitted to him openly, “I’m sad I didn’t get pregnant immediately.”

He kissed the side of your head. “I understand,” he said, “Is there more to this than simply sadness?”

“I’m… worried that I might not be able to get pregnant,” you added, your voice getting softer, as if you yourself were afraid of hearing your secret inner fear spoken aloud. This was a different kind of vulnerability than you were used to sharing with Zayne, so you didn’t dare look at him in spite of knowing full well that he would never judge you for your feelings and fears.

You heard a soft sigh before Zayne spoke again. “We’ve only started trying recently,” he said, “There is nothing abnormal about not conceiving immediately.”

“I know…”

“Do you feel like I am pressuring you to get pregnant quickly?”

You shook your head and Zayne smiled. “Good,” he said, “Because I am not. I do want a baby with you, but not at the risk of your own wellbeing—and that includes your emotional wellbeing as well.”

You looked at him quizzically.

“Let’s take it slowly,” he said, his hand under your chin again. He tilted your chin up, his lips approaching yours, and his voice remaining that soft, even tone, “When it happens, it will happen.”

“Ah—but—”

“And if a year from now,” he interrupted you, “we are still unsuccessful, then we can begin looking into our fertility.”

He kissed you quickly, and you blinked in surprise. He smiled at you helplessly, saying, “I do believe you might be overreacting a little. It hadn’t been long—”

This time you were the one who surprised him, catching him off-guard when you suddenly leaned up to kiss him and stopped him from speaking further. He didn’t even try to resist, letting you take charge. You felt his hands on your hips, holding you steady while your hands rested on the plane of his chest. You broke away first, breathing a little heavier than earlier.

“Goddamn you, Zayne,” you said breathily.

He quirked his eyebrow up, his own breathing also a little unsteady. He wasn’t expecting you to curse at him.

You smiled. “Why do you always have to be so level-headed?”

He rolled his eyes. “I do not believe the two of us spiraling together would be beneficial in the slightest.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” you conceded lightheartedly. You hugged him back. “Thank you for letting me be the insane one in the relationship.”

He chuckled and returned your hug. “I have never once said you were insane…”

You hummed against his chest, your mood feeling brighter now. Mulling over his earlier words, you knew Zayne was right about what he had said, feeling like you were overreacting a little. Now that everything was out in the open, you even felt a little silly, wondering why you were in such a rush to get pregnant all of a sudden when your recent bout of baby fever came not so long ago.

“Okay!”

Zayne startled, unprepared for your sudden outburst. He peered down at you, waiting, wondering what was going through your head in this moment.

“I’m done moping,” you declared, smiling at him. “I wasn’t stressed about this before, so why should I stress now?”

He nodded in agreement.

“And like you said… when it happens, it will happen.”

He nodded again with a smile, pleased to see you returning to your usual bright demeanor again.

“Zayne?”

“Hm?”

“When you said ‘take it slowly’… you weren’t thinking of taking a break, did you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not unless you tell me to—”

“I’m not,” you interrupted, grinning, “I want things to keep staying the same.”

You leaned forward, resting your head on his chest as his strong arms held you against him. You winced suddenly and Zayne looked down in concern.

“My cramps…”

He smiled helplessly again and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t I take you back to our bed and I’ll massage your stomach and you rest?”

“Sounds wonderful,” you agreed. You pouted at him. “Carry me?”

“Darling, you didn’t even need to ask,” he responded, kissing you again before he lifted you into his arms and headed for the bedroom.

It seemed like life fell back into its old routine after you and Zayne had discussed your current situation again. As it turned out, time together quickly became fleeting as both of your careers monopolized the majority of your time.

There were still moments together, but it was mostly exchanging text messages, or meeting for a quick meal once in a while, or simply just catching one another in passing. Time spent together—particularly intimately—were sparser than either of you would have liked, but it couldn’t be helped.

Zayne had numerous surgeries lined up for weeks and you yourself also had missions that required your full attention.

“Just look on the bright side,” Zayne told you over a video call one night. You were currently away in another town for a disaster relief mission while Zayne had to remain back in Linkon because of his own work schedule. He smiled at you through the screen in an attempt to reassure you, though your persistent pout proved to him that he was not doing an exemplary job at the moment. In any case, he continued, “At least both of our busy schedules aligned together, so neither one of us has to feel lonely.”

“I guess so,” you mumbled at him as you paced your hotel room. “I still miss you… and not because I am in another town.”

“I know,” he responded, “I miss you, too.”

You gave him a small smile, feeling somewhat placated by his own admission and mutual feelings.

“It won’t be long,” Zayne reassured you. “By the end of this month, I won’t have as many surgeries lined up for a while and I’m sure your own workload will lighten as well.”

Your smile widened.

Next month, you remembered, would be September.

As in, Zayne’s birthday month.

Instantly giddy, your brain started working in overdrive to plan a birthday surprise for Zayne, feeling like it would be the perfect opportunity for you both to rekindle your relationship after this recent spell of busyness that had been keeping you both apart from one another.

“Alright, I’m glad to see you smiling again,” Zayne said, seemingly unaware of the true reason behind your sudden mood change.

You decided it was best to let him believe otherwise so you could maintain the element of surprise for his birthday. You simply nodded and tried to redirect the conversation to him instead.

It worked. You smiled along as Zayne described his days, picturing in your mind the image of him going around the hospital and after work walking home, passing by a dessert shop he wanted to try out with you when you returned from your mission. After a few more minutes of speaking, your eyes felt heavier, but you still tried to keep the conversation going since after all, this was the first lengthy conversation you and Zayne had together in a while.

“It’s late,” Zayne said suddenly, catching on to your attempts to stay awake. He smiled and continued, “Say good night to me.”

You instantly perked up at his words and tone. You frowned a little, asking, “Why do you always do that?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ‘hm?’ me!” you said, vexed, “You know what you just did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he answered evenly, though you could have sworn there was a mischievous smirk on his face. You stiffened up a little when he continued in that same authoritative tone again, “Say good night to me.”

You waited a few seconds.

He also remained patient as well.

Your lips twitched.

Zayne smirked.

“…Good night, Zaynie…”

He smiled, pleased. “Good night, my love,” he answered, “Sweet dreams.”

Zayne was right.

He was pretty much always right, you realized, feeling both pride and annoyance by the fact.

As August neared its end, you felt like you could breathe again at work as the tasks you had to perform lessened and the increased number of hunters available meant that there was no need for you to cover as many areas as you have been doing these last few weeks.

Since returning home from your previous mission, you had also managed to find ways to sneak in some alone time with Zayne whether it was surprising him in his office or waiting for him after his late shifts. In time, he even returned the gestures, stealing moments with you when he could.

It wasn’t uncommon to see him dropping you off at work, or meeting him for a quick milk tea break. You still missed the long hours alone with him, but for now, the little moments together were still more welcomed than not seeing him at all.

In some way, you began treating this temporary period like when you two had first started dating and was struggling to find that balance of work and meeting one another. You smiled at the memory.

“What’s making you smile so much?” Zayne asked when he approached your waiting spot on a park bench. He held up a paper bag. “A croissant breakfast sandwich or a honey castella?”

You smiled wryly, noting the obvious choice of savory versus sweet. While Zayne would not be disappointed if you did take the sweet treat instead, you liked the small smile he would wear on his face when you let him have the sweeter choice. “The breakfast sandwich.”

He chuckled and passed the paper bag of food to you. You reached inside and pulled out the breakfast sandwich. Wrapped in a beige parchment paper, the croissant sandwich was still warm and smelled of egg and sausage. Your stomach grumbled a little.

“Now,” he continued with a playful smile on his face, his other hand holding up a paper tray containing two cups of coffee, “a cinnamon maple latte or salted caramel mocha?”

You licked your lips a little. “They both sound good,” you said, still pondering.

He smiled and sat down next to you on the bench, setting the drinks to the side. “Then we’ll share both.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, smiling in delight. “I’m glad you can have breakfast with me today.”

He peered down at his watch. “I’m afraid it won’t be long though,” he answered. “I need to return to the hospital by ten.”

“I understand,” you responded, a little disappointed, “I can’t take a long break either. We have a team meeting at eleven today.”

You bit into your sandwich, enjoying the instant savory flavor dancing on your tongue. “Okay, no more talks about work! We can’t waste our precious time together with things like that.”

Zayne nodded in agreement, amused by your bright personality. “Okay, then you still haven’t answered my earlier question.”

“Hm?”

“Why were you smiling so much earlier?”

You pondered over his words before remembering. Your cheeks turned a little rosy, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “It’s silly…”

“Tell me,” He urged, taking a sip of his drink. He appeared surprised by the flavor.

Noticing this, you tried to use it as a way to deflect the conversation from you. “Which flavor is that?”

“The latte,” he said, clarifying, “The cinnamon maple latte.”

“Do you not like it?”

He took another sip. “They overdid it on the cinnamon,” he said after taking three more sips.

You laughed. “Then why are you still drinking it?”

You stole the cup from him and took a sip yourself, grimacing at the overpowering scent of cinnamon. You decided to chase the drink with the salted caramel mocha, preferring the latter over the former. You held up your half-eaten sandwich to your husband. “Want a bite?”

He shook his head.

“Have a bite,” you demanded.

“When did this offer turn into a demand, Miss Hunter?”

“Right now,” you said, grinning as you pushed the sandwich closer to his mouth. He eyed you with a look of amusement, feigning exasperation before he bit into the croissant. You watched him chewed and swallowed the food, your voice exclaiming suddenly, “Oh, you got something on your mouth—"

Before Zayne could react, you already leaned up and kissed him, playfully nipping and licking his mouth clean. When you pulled away, he pretended to glare at you, though the smile on his face gave away his true feelings. He kissed you briefly again before poking your nose with his finger.

“I see Miss Hunter has resorted to trickery to get what she wants.”

“It was just a—”

He kissed you again, a bit longer and a bit deeper than earlier, feeling like he was making up for the long absence and all of those times apart. When he finally paused, his lips just mere centimeters from your own, you heard him murmured, “You never need to trick me to get what you want. I would give you everything you ask for.”

Your cheeks tinged pink, your mind dizzied by the kisses, by his words, by him. Your food was left on the bench, now forgotten as your entire attention was on him. You cupped his face, feeling like it had been a while since you were this close to him—both physically and emotionally. A smile crept onto your face as you relearned his features, noticing he appeared slimmer than you remembered.

“I know you’ve been busy, but you need to eat on time,” you chided him.

He smiled at your scolding and nodded.

Your eyes glanced at the faint bags under his eyes. “And sleep when you can,” you added. You reached up, your thumb brushing under one of his eyes. “Even a doctor needs to rest and follow his own advices.”

He chuckled. “How did this breakfast together turned into my wife scolding me?”

“You don’t like having a naggy wife?”

He laughed. “I did not say that,” he protested. He kissed you again, and murmured to you, “I know why you’re doing this.”

“Hm? Doing what?” you feigned obliviousness.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said instead. “I’ve missed you a lot. So, so much…”

“Ah—our…our coffee is getting cold…”

He huffed in amusement. “I do not care,” he said, “Do you?”

“No…”

Just as Zayne was about to lean in for another kiss, you both heard the sound of a timer going off. Glancing down, you saw that it was your phone, signaling the end of your breaktime with him. You both sighed in disappointment.

“You better head back to the hospital or you’ll be late,” you said, voice tinged with clear disappointment. Unconsciously, you had grabbed onto his hand, holding tight in spite of your words. He noticed the gesture, but did not say anything.

Suddenly, you felt Zayne cupping your cheek, and you looked to him, seeing that same disappointment in his smile. He reassured you gently, “Just a few more weeks. I don’t have that many surgeries left this month, and my schedule should lighten by next month as well.”

You tried to smile and nodded. Suddenly, you remembered the birthday plans you had secretly made. There was so much to look forward to and preparations you still needed to do, so you began to forget about the current situation.

“You know…”

“What is it?” Zayne asked.

“This feels like when we first started dating,” you said, seeing the immediate confusion on his face.

“Hm?”

You laughed at his puzzled expression. “Don’t you remember?” you asked, poking his cheek in jest. “We were always so busy with our jobs, so it was a task just trying to find time to meet up.”

As if a lightbulb had gone off in his head, Zayne’s eyes brightened in understanding. He chuckled and nodded.

“There was something you said once that stayed with me for a while…”

“Something I said?”

“I remember telling you how if we’re seeing each other on Sunday, then I would start getting ready on Saturday. And you said—”

“‘If I’m able to see you Sunday… I’ll start getting excited Thursday.’”

“You remembered…”

He smiled and leaned forward, closing the small gap between you both. “How could I forget anything when it comes to you?”

“Zayne…”

He brushed his lips over yours, whispering softly, “But thankfully now whenever I want to see you, I just need to come home.”

You smiled. “You are going to be late heading back,” you reminded him.

“Right,” he said, brushing his lips against yours once more before standing up.

Nodding again, you saw him off as you made your own trip back to your workplace, smiling brighter as you still felt Zayne’s lingering kisses on your lips.

As Zayne had said previously, his own schedule was becoming less hectic in the coming weeks, which meant soon, you would have him all to yourself.

Or so you had thought.

“Wait a minute,” you said one morning, startled by a seemingly innocuous comment your husband had just made. You furrowed your brows in confusion before asking softly, “So you are going to be working on your birthday again?”

Zayne turned to look at you, already knowing all of the thoughts racing through your head. It also didn’t help that you couldn’t maintain a poker face, your true feelings seen clearly in your disappointed expression. He walked over and cupped your face, his lips pressed to your forehead in reassurance.

“It wasn’t intentional,” he said. “It had slipped my mind that it was going to be on a weekday, and besides, we can always celebrate the weekend before or after.”

You mumbled in agreement, though it remained obvious to your husband that you were still not appeased by his rational reasoning. You yelped in surprise when he suddenly pinched your cheeks. “Ah—quit it, Zayne!”

He chuckled and apologized immediately, though you couldn’t help but noticed the lack of sincerity, feeling like his smile was just a tad wider than it should be. You lightly glared at him and he apologized again. “Come now,” he said, “Wipe that glare off your face. You’re acting like it was your birthday I had ruined.”

“It’s just…”

“Just what? Tell me.”

You sighed in defeat before relaying to him the plans you had made. You were planning on taking him out for breakfast at a nice café before spending the morning wandering through an art museum with him. There was even a new bistro in town you wanted to try out with him, and later you thought of taking him to a bookstore and for ten whole minutes, you were going to let him pick out as many books as he wanted and you were going to pay for everything. Afterwards, you had even planned on an afternoon break at a bakery, letting him indulge in as much sweets as he would like.

Just before you could continue onto the next phase in your birthday plan for him, Zayne stopped you, his hands resting on your shoulders and his eyes a little wider than normal, completely surprised by the level of planning you had already made. To your confusion, he suddenly laughed, appearing delighted.

“Thank you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It sounds like it would have been a wonderfully… packed day.”

You pouted in spite of his laughter. “It would have… I even scheduled a day off to be with you,” you told him, adding accusatorily, “I thought you would have done the same…”

He apologized again. “I’m sorry. The meeting came up suddenly, and I can’t back out of it on short notice.”

You continued to sulk.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hand gripping your chin. He lifted it so your eyes met his. “How about a raincheck then? We can do a makeup day the next weekend.”

“It won’t be the same,” you said softly, realizing you were also behaving like a petulant child right now, but you couldn’t help this immense feeling of disappointment you felt.

You gasped when Zayne’s arms suddenly wrapped around you tightly, your face now pressed to his chest. You peered up just as he leaned down to meet your lips. You started to smile again, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly.

“For what?” you stared back quizzically. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Just for remembering my birthday—better than me, even—and for…” he kissed you again before his forehead pressed to yours. “Just for caring about me this much.”

As you gazed into his kind, loving eyes, a thought popped into your head. A new idea had sprouted, already making you forget your earlier disappointment. Zayne said you were bad at hiding your feelings, but in this moment, he hadn’t seemed to notice that telltale mischievous glint in your eye. You feigned disappointment again, hoping he wouldn’t catch on.

“I just wanted you to have a nice birthday, Zayne.”

He laughed. “I know you do, and you always make them memorable.”

You almost wanted to laugh along with him, but you maintained your despondent demeanor. You continued to act stiff with him. “Just remember it’s your fault if this year is not as nice as everything I’ve planned previously.”

“Yes, yes,” he sighed as you scolded him, holding you more firmly to him again. “I think I can survive dealing with the occasional underwhelming birthdays.”

“Just remember, this is your fault.”

“Yes, yes, it’s my fault I will have such an unmemorable birthday.”

You snuggled into his embrace, hiding your mischievous smile from view.

Unmemorable? Ha! We’ll see about that, Zaynie…

On the morning of Zayne’s birthday, you woke up to an empty bed, surprised that he had already left for work without saying anything to you. You sighed and stayed lounging in bed for a while, your eyes occasionally darting to the clock to check the time every few minutes.

It was just about eight, and you surmised that Zayne would probably be settling into his office by now going through reports and the likes before his meeting at ten. Had it been any other day, you would also be at your own job either writing up a report or being out in the field, but since September 5th was such a special day to you, you had planned a month in advance to have this day off for your husband’s birthday.

You realized it was a tiny bit of your own fault for not at least reminding him to schedule the day off as well. You huffed, mildly annoyed. Well, you thought, after several birthdays together, one would think he would be more in tune with your yearly plans.

Apparently not.

Forget it, you thought, tossing the bed cover to the side. You rolled out of your bed and went to freshen up in the bathroom. In your shared master closet with Zayne, your hand skimmed across the array of neatly hung dress shirts before settling on a simple white one. The fabric felt so soft, and you smiled as you stripped down to just your underwear. It was a very risqué black rose lace panty that left very little to the imagination. You slipped on his dress shirt, the length of it reaching down all the way to your thighs. You intentionally left the first four buttons undone, revealing more than enough of your cleavage for him to witness later.

After doing your hair and makeup, you grabbed your phone, smirking as you realized you had one hour before Zayne would be out of his meeting.

Perfect.

The moment Zayne turned his phone back on, he saw a notification for a message from his wife. Unsurprised, he figured you wanted to greet him a happy birthday, but the moment he opened the message he realized how wrong he was.

There was a birthday message—of sorts—but it was not delivered in a way he had thought you would send it.

Thankfully, he was in the privacy of his office.

“This girl…”

You had sent him one message: For the birthday boy. 💋

And afterwards he saw a series of photos taken in provocative positions of you wearing what appeared to be nothing but just a shirt of his. He swallowed slowly as he scrolled down the conversation, seeing photos of you on your knees and leaning forward enough to show off your cleavage. Some had you on your back, your legs tucked close to your chest, while a few had your legs spread apart while you stared at the camera all doe-eyed and sweet.

Zayne gasped, suddenly startled when another attachment was received.

You were straddling his pillow.

His breathing grew a little unsteady, his eyes taking in what appeared to be—

He immediately turned his phone off again and raced out of his office. On the way out, he asked Greyson to cover him for the rest of the day, giving little explanations other than “something came up.” Had he been paying attention, Zayne might have caught Greyson exchanging a knowing smile with Yvonne, forgetting that they both were previous attendants to his past birthday parties.

As Zayne drove home, he knew he should have been wary of how his wife had seemed to be so compliant after the earlier disappointments. In the days leading up to his birthday, he hadn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. On the contrary, you had seemed very cheerful, no longer upset that he was working on his birthday.

He hadn’t thought that you would have a Plan B, or perhaps, he should call it Plan XXX considering the nature of it all. The moment he arrived home, with his phone in hand still pinging every so often with new messages, he found his darling wife lounging on the couch, appearing proud of yourself as you had just finished taking the latest photo.

There was a sudden buzzing noise.

You froze.

Zayne opened the text message he had just received and smirked.

“My love, are these my so-called birthday presents from you?”

Slowly, you turned around, unprepared to see Zayne had actually come home early from work.

“We-welcome home, Zaynie,” you managed to squeak out.

“Hm,” he responded in acknowledgement and in just a few short strides, he made his way over to the couch, sitting down next to you. Before you could say another word, he grabbed your wrist, startling you when he dragged you to lay over his lap and suddenly you felt a coolness, feeling your panties had been pulled down to expose your bare ass.

“Za-Zayne—ah!"

He had loosened his tie, removing it, and with expert quickness, Zayne had your wrists bounded together. You attempted to struggle, but found that he had tied it secured enough that it would not undo while still loose enough that it wouldn’t harm your wrists. Before you could question him, you felt that first sudden strike on your bare bottom, the rough feel of his calloused hand making contact with your ass had you crying out in both surprise and pain.

He instantly rubbed soothing circles where he had struck. There was nothing apologetic about his tone, his words firm and domineering. “One slap for every photo you had sent me today.”

You gasped in surprise.

You had sent him thirteen photos.

His hand struck your ass again. “Now count,” he commanded sternly.

“T-two…”

“Louder.”

Another strike.

“Three!”

He hummed in approval, his large hand smoothed over your reddened cheek. “Good girl,” he praised, and from just those two words alone you felt butterflies beginning to flutter in your belly, a sudden innate desire to please him was awakened within you.

He gave you a moment of reprieve, eyeing you with amusement. When you attempted to squirm again, another slap landed on your sore bottom without warning and you cried into the couch cushion.

“Did I say you could move?” he asked tauntingly. “How many was that?”

“F-four…”

He continued, experimenting with the strength each time and not leaving any hint to the pattern of his actions for you to discern or prepare for, although with the current state he had you in, all rational thoughts had left your head the moment he had tied your wrists together and laid you over his lap.

You winced and gasped, not expecting such strength from the normally gentle doctor. Every so often, your fingers dug into the couch cushion, nails scraping along the fabric whenever the pain was stronger than you could handle.

While a part of you knew you shouldn’t be feeling anything other than fear and shame, your body was having a completely different reaction to his mean treatment. You wondered when he would notice the growing wetness between your legs. His tone and this persona he had taken on were arousing you more than usual.

A part of you instantly wanted to submit to him, to act and behave in a way to earn more of his sweet praises, but there was also another side of you that was so aroused by seeing the once gentle doctor take control, asserting his dominance in a way that left you so breathless and shaken, you wanted to rile and provoke him more, needing to see just how far you could push him before he retaliated.

He didn’t give you long to gather your thoughts to think further. His hand was once more circling your smooth bottom. You glanced up at him, breathing heavier as you took in the way his gentle eyes had darkened with desires.

Another forceful slap.

You gasped again, crying out his name, nearly mewling whenever he quickly switched from his rough treatment to soothing you with gentle words and touches. “Z-Zayne…”

“How many?”

“T-ten…”

“Almost done,” he said. “Just a little longer.”

You panted quietly, almost feeling ashamed that you were disappointed he was going to be done soon. You wondered about other ways to push his buttons, to keep this side of him out for a bit longer. The thought left your mind when you felt the next slap, the sharp sound of his hand meeting your bottom was louder than the previous instances.

The immediate sting was so painful, but oh-so good.

“E-eleven!”

You cried into the couch, feeling that wetness between your legs worsened. You squirmed a little, needing relief from this growing ache.

Another strike.

“Twel-twelve… Zayne… Zayne, please…” You could barely speak, feeling overwhelmed by his punishment and your growing arousal.

It didn’t appear he had caught on yet as to why you were pleading with him, mistaking your cries for pain instead of arousal. The last strike was the gentlest, barely felt after everything you had endured.

“Thirteen…”

He leaned down and kissed your neck, his voice gentle again as he whispered apologies to you. “Was I too rough just now?”

Before you could respond to him, Zayne was chuckling as he chastised you once more, “You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment.”

There was no anger or annoyance in his voice, just amusement tinged his tone, but before you could even utter a response, he had you crying out in both shock and pleasure when his fingers slipped into your wet folds, thrusting in and out a few times experimentally to see just how wet you were. You were moaning his name, begging and pleading for more than just this simple stimulation, but in that moment, he had decided to pull out, leaving you empty and throbbing with a need to be filled. You cried out in shock and frustration, looking behind to see his fingers coated in your essence.

You didn’t have time to be upset with him, your mind blanking the instance you watched those beautiful fingers slipped into his mouth, seeing him sucked long and slow those digits clean before he removed them, his tongue running over his lips before he smirked at you, whether in amusement or tauntingly, you weren’t entirely sure, too dumbstruck to fully think straight and too captivated by how handsome he was.

It felt like you had stopped breathing. You could feel your heartbeat growing erratic, getting caught in this moment of excitement as you ached for more of him.

He had no business looking so sexy doing that, and that simple act alone shouldn’t have had such an effect on you, but it did. Suddenly, you startled when you registered that he was pulling your panties back up, and now you were whining at him, begging for him to relieve you of this growing ache inside of you.

“N-no, Zaynie, please…”

He peered down at you with that same provoking smirk, one eyebrow raised in question, though it was clear he was very amused by the state of frustration you were in. “Please? Please what?” he asked mischievously, adding sternly, “Use your words, my love, or I won’t know what you want.”

You wanted to snap back at his taunt. Perhaps during any other instances, you would have countered his teasing with your own, but by this point, you were in no state to be so sassy with him. The wetness between your legs had worsened so much, the need to be filled by him was all you could think about, knowing just how full and satisfied you would feel with his beautiful cock buried deep inside you.

Zayne continued to gaze at you with such a haughty smile, as if he was pleased to see how frustrated you were because of him. Perhaps, he might have even considered this a fitting punishment for how you behaved earlier today with sending him those risqué photos while he was working.

Practically sulking, you complied with him. You twisted your body on the couch to peer up at him, your bounded wrists pressed close to your chest, and you said softly with tears brimming in your eyes, “Please… fuck me.”

He breathed in quickly, unprepared for your brazen obedience.

As if a dam had broken and all of your feelings and inner desires were rushing out in torrents, you continued your shameless pleas, ready now to beg him to satisfy you in ways only he could. “Please, Zaynie… I need your… your cock… inside… inside me.”

He laughed softly, amazed by your bold plea. He settled down on the couch, laying on his side behind you, and pulled you flushed to him. Your back pressed to his toned chest, your sudden squirming stilled the moment Zayne wrapped his arm around your middle to trap you to him.

His hand reached around to tug his tie free from around your wrists, releasing you from your silk shackle. His fingers soothingly glided across your wrists, appearing to appraise you for any lingering marks. They were faint, but nothing too harmful. He was always mindful that way, wanting to discipline your petulant behavior, but never wishing to harm you. He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Such lewd words,” he murmured, his tone more amused than disappointed. “Now when did my lovely wife learn to say such obscene things?”

You grinded back against him, feeling his bulge against your ass and hearing his instant hiss before his hand grabbed your hip, holding you in place again. Suddenly, you heard the sound of his pants zippers, and you were whining now, feeling his fingers dragging your panties to the side. The needy whines turned into long, slow moans the moment he eased into you and you felt that massive intrusion stretching you just deliciously as you clenched around him.

“F-fuck,” he gasped, those rare curses he would say somehow the most erotic thing you had ever heard. He gripped your leg, lifting enough so he could have an easier access before he started rocking into you with a steady pace. With every shallow thrust, his pants and your moans intermingled in tandem to the lewd sounds. He peered down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face buried in the couch cushion as you gasped and moaned to the feeling of him penetrating you so perfectly. His breathing grew unsteady as he husked softly, sounding almost amazed by the fact, “So fucking wet… it’s like you’re swallowing me.”

Every stroke you felt was heavenly, this mounting pleasure practically sinful. You gasped into the cushions, your nails dragging along the fabric of the couch again, feeling like he was drowning you in this intense pleasure. Zayne’s arm slipped under your head to rest, and instantly you grabbed his hand, his thumb slipping into your eager mouth. Immediately, he groaned, the feeling of your warm mouth around his thumb and the sight of you so shameless and pretty like this made him want to fuck you harder, reduce you to an even more helpless mess than you already were. He dragged his shirt on you to the side, his lips finding your shoulder to kiss, branding you with his marks.

Everything he did, his entire being, was overwhelming your senses, your mind lost to this intense haze of pleasure. You continued to suckle his thumb, your hands grasping his firmly, not wanting to part from him, feeling his heat so close to yours. Distantly, you heard him groaned, “Say my name.”

There was a warm tightening in your belly, and you answered him with a sweet gasp, “Za-Zayne…”

He roughly pulled his hand away, and you protested and whined from the abrupt loss.

“Louder,” he hissed, driving into you harder.

“Z-Zayne!”

The same hand he had pulled away reached lower, grasping your breast, fondling and squeezing tightly as his hips continued to move steadily faster. Sweats dripped along the sides of his face, his hair sticking to his skin, and his expression flushed with heavy arousal at the sight of how beautifully you were taking him, your own cheeks red and hot, eyes squeezed tightly shut as you felt him thrusting deeper inside you.

“My pretty wife,” he murmured, his lips pressing into the crook of your neck as he continued to praise you, “My love, let me hear more of your sweet voice.”

“Za-Zayne… ah… ah… you feel so, so good…”

He hummed in approval, his hand kneading your breast harder, his thumb swirling over your sensitive nipple before pinching them, making you squealed in surprise. He showed no sign of stopping any of his ministrations, wanting to lure out more of your sweet moans and whines, your heavenly voice making him dizzy with desires.

His arm suddenly wrapped tightly around your chest, pulling you back firmly against his own as his movements quickened to a brutal pacing. Your hands reached up to grasp at his arm, nails digging into his skin as you cried harder, your squeals growing in pitch as a familiar pleasure crested, reaching closer and closer to its peak.

“Za-Zayne! …Gonna… gonna cum… oh, god… I’m gonna cum!”

“Good girl,” he praised, kissing your neck soundly as he groaned softly, “I’m close, too…”

You panted, your breathing even more unsteady after hearing his words. The overstimulation was too much, your mind barely able to focus on anything other than the feeling of him bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your walls tightened around him and he groaned again, his face burying into your neck.

“In-inside me! Please, Zayne, please…!”

“Bu—”

“I want you to knock me up, Zayne!”

His breath hitched. His hand reached lower, resting over your flat belly. He almost wanted to chuckle, both amused and delighted by your exclamation. You both had been fucking so recklessly lately, all precautions abandoned, submitting to your primitive desires completely, he wouldn’t be surprised if you were already pregnant at this moment, already carrying his baby in your body.

His hand circled your belly, his mind drifting away to a secret fantasy of his, already imagining a small swell forming, his baby resting in your womb, growing day by day bigger. You would need new clothes, he realized with a small smile. He would delight in choosing the prettiest dresses that would be comfortable for you, but still snug enough that the fabric stretched around your round belly, letting you show off the cute swell, the very evidence that he was the one who had impregnated you.

People would congratulate the doctor and his wife for their growing family, not knowing that he had been actively breeding you every chance he could, but most importantly, when he knew for certain that you were ovulating, your body just begging for him to impregnate you with his child.

If people even knew the number of times he had stayed buried inside of you, letting you milk him completely dry and making sure not a single drop of his cum would go to waste, they would surely be scandalized that such a respectful, revered, and well-mannered young man could harbor such a perverse side that he kept well hidden behind closed doors. If they only knew the extent of his fantasies, of his desires and need to make sure all of his virile seed stayed inside of you, needing just one to take. He knew you were fertile, your womb just begging to carry his child. He was going to make this fantasy a reality.

You were already the prettiest little wife for him, so sweet and charming, he was completely smitten by you entirely, but Zayne knew he would be even more enamored when you carry his baby. The proof of his love for you, a baby who would be the perfect blend of you both.

“My baby…” he husked, giving your flat belly another rub, “You want my baby in your belly?”

“Ye-yes… please…”

He huffed, almost laughing breathlessly. He was going delirious. Your willingness and pleas were only fueling his desires. Suddenly, he pulled out completely and you cried in frustration at the sudden loss of him, but just as quickly he had flipped you onto your back and you stared up in wide-eyed confusion as he parted your legs before driving into you deeply.

You nearly choked on your cries, unprepared for his sudden brute force. Your nails dug into the fabric of the cushion again as he spread you more, pushing in deeper and harder, his every movement had your breasts bouncing as you gasped out his name in desperation over and over again.

“C-cumming… Zayne, I’m cumming…”

“Yes, yes, cum. Cum for me, darling,” he murmured, his own pants nearly matching yours. He was smirking as he drank in the sight of you, completely cock-drunk by him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth opened in silent euphoria. His words sounded more frenzied. “You might already be pregnant.”

You whimpered, and your nails dug even deeper into the cushion.

“Might already be carrying my baby,” he continued, “You like this thought, don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, Zayne!”

“Oh, fuck,” he sighed, “But it wouldn’t hurt to keep filling you up until we’re sure…”

His hand found yours, gripping it tightly as he pressed it into the cushion. He rocked into you deeply, his sweat-slicked forehead pressing against yours briefly before his lips found your own. As he ravaged your lips, leaving no room for you to breathe, he continued to taunt you with his tantalizing words in between every searing kiss: “Want my baby so badly, you’ve been begging for it every time, haven’t you?”

You nodded helplessly, eyes brimming with tears as you felt your climax was approaching faster now. He was practically bruising your lips with his relentless kisses. You could barely think straight, having completely succumbed to him, letting his soft but firm voice hypnotize you, lead you to the edge.

“Have you thought about the changes that will happen?”

You broke free from his kiss and buried your face into the crook of his neck. He pressed your legs further back and you squealed as he plumbed deeply into you, hitting that same sweet spot over and over again as he continued to pant such deliciously sinful words.

“You’re going to be even more beautiful… carrying my baby… have you… have you wearing only clothes that would show off your adorable round belly—” He was growing feverish, his own words having more of an effect on him than he realized. He was already imagining the changes. “Everyone will know it’s my baby in you.”

He chuckled suddenly, as if amused by a joke only he knew. “I don’t think I will be able to keep my hands off of you,” he confessed, “I’m going to want to touch you more, feel you more, need to be buried in your sweet pussy and fuck you again and again and again while you’re pregnant.”

“Ah… Za—”

You felt Zayne’s hands grabbed at your buttocks, lifting you up as your legs locked around his waist. You moaned into his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, holding onto him as he took you past the point of no return, his thrusts rushing more frantically as you both neared your releases.

“You’ll let me, won’t you?” he smirked, already knowing the answer himself, panting even harder as he felt your approaching climax, “Let me have you, let me feel you when you’re so round and heavy with our child. Let me fuck you, claim you over and over again—”

“Oh, fuck, yes!”

Zayne’s eyes widened suddenly at your euphoric cry, your hold on him tightening, submitting to the intense climax that had steadily been building since his earlier punishment. Your nails sank into his back, dragging across his skin and leaving deep marks on him. He gasped, hissing in pleasure, as he thrusted more erratically, yielding to his own need for his release. With a few more hurried strokes, Zayne groaned deeply as he emptied into you, feeling your pussy squeezed his cock and milking him dry.

“Ah… Za-Zayne… ah, so—ohhh!”

You rested against him, whimpering into his shoulder, feeling the heavy spurts before he started to soften inside of you, but he didn’t appear to be ready to leave your warmth just yet. Your mind still clouded by the intense pleasure just now, you didn’t realize he pulled you away from his neck, only aware of him when his fingers rested under your chin and gently tilting up so his lips could claim yours, so light and fleeting, just a gentle brush before he asked softly with his warm hazel eyes watching you with genuine concern, “Are you sore? Was I too rough with you just now?”

You smiled at him with lazy bliss and shook your head.

“Won’t speak to me?” he teased, giving you a quick peck on the tip of your nose, his smile widening at the sound of your gentle giggles.

“Happy birthday, Zaynie,” you said instead, making him chuckled in amusement.

“Thank you,” he laughed. “It turned out more… memorable than I originally thought it would be.”

You blinked at him confused and said not-so-innocently, “You’re speaking as if this is all you are getting for your birthday.”

He eyed you with suspicion. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing,” you said with a cheeky smile. You wrapped your arms around his neck again and said with a pout, “Zaynie, I’m tired, can you carry me to the kitchen please?”

He chuckled. “Are you asking me to serve you on my own birthday, Miss?”

“Please?”

He pulled out of you with a groan, your damped panties readjusted. Sighing, Zayne kissed your cheek before his arms slipped under you. “Very well,” he said, “Hold on tight.”

As you held onto him, you gasped into his shoulder again, feeling some of his seed dripping into your soaked panties.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused by your behavior change.

“N-nothing,” you fibbed, keeping you face buried against him. You hummed happily, and reminded him, “Kitchen please.”

You giggled when he stood up and shifted, his arms were holding you securely to him as your legs wrapped around his waist tightly before he headed to the kitchen. With your guidance, he walked to the fridge, watching in confusion when you reached for the handle and opened the door. On one of the door shelves, you grabbed a can of whipped cream, making Zayne lift his eyebrow, even more baffled by your actions.

“Whipped cream?” he questioned.

“I couldn’t get you a birthday cake since you had said you would be working all day today,” you explained.

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement. He readjusted his hold on you, shifting the weight more comfortably against him. He gazed at you with so much warmth in his eyes as he spoke lightheartedly, “Ah, so it’s my fault I only get whipped cream instead of a birthday cake then?”

You made a face at him, puffing your cheeks up in annoyance. “What do you mean ‘only whipped cream?’”

“Hm?” He was about to question you, but you stopped him.

“Bedroom first,” you commanded.

“Ordering me around on my birthday?” he questioned with mock offense, but his feet were already moving to the next location. He chuckled when you yelped in surprise when his large hand rubbed over your bottom that was still a little sore from his earlier ‘punishment’. He continued in the same light-hearted tone, “I see my earlier… lesson didn’t have the expected effect on you. I should have known better.”

“I’m sorry, Zaynie,” you said unapologetically, “I’m a bit of a slow learner. Could you discipline me again—I mean teach me agai—ah!”

He had entered the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and made his way to the large king-sized bed at the center of the room. Without any warning, he had tossed you onto the bed midsentence. Once you were able to recover from the shock, you were about to demand an explanation for his behavior, but you paused, startled when he started to unbutton his shirt.

“Zayne?”

“Hm?” He smiled down at you as he loosened the cuffs of his sleeves, revealing a glimpse of the faint scars on his arms. He tilted his head to the side, pretending like he was disappointed in you. Your gaze followed his fingers, watching him unbutton his shirt with intentional slowness. Once the shirt was completely unbuttoned, he walked to the bed, crawling on top until he was hovering above you while you leaned back, caught beneath him like a captured prey. You eyed him with surprise, wondering what was going through his head in this moment.

You glanced appreciatively downward, catching sight of Zayne’s toned abdomen beneath his unbuttoned shirt, but he didn’t let you look for long, his hand grasping your chin and lifting it up, directing your gaze back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded.

“Technically, I was—”

“Behave,” he interrupted firmly and you clammed up under his stern look. He smirked in amusement at your immediate obedience before he lowered his glance. Wordlessly, his fingers brushed over the waistband of your panties.

“Za-Zayne?”

He huffed in amusement. “They’re completely soaked,” he murmured. He pulled them down, taking them off of you. He breathed in sharply before letting out a slow exhale. “I’m going to have to buy you some new lingerie it seems.”

You readjusted his shirt on you, covering your sudden exposed body from his view with lightly pinked cheeks. Noticing your not-so subtle actions, he pulled your hands away with a knowing smirk, and guided the shirt off, tossing it to the side, letting you sit completely nude to him.

“Suddenly shy now?” he teased, “What happened to that boldness you displayed earlier, my love?”

“I-I’m cold,” you fibbed with faux annoyance.

He nodded in understanding, humoring your defiance. “Then I should warm you up, shouldn’t I?”

You breathed in quickly, watching as one by one, all article of his clothing was removed until he was also completely nude in your presence. Even though as his wife, you had seen him completely naked numerous times before, it never stopped you from appreciating his beautiful physique, much the same way he also always adored seeing you completely exposed to him—only for him.

“We should both warm each other up,” he rephrased with a mischievous smirk. Zayne leaned forward and you lost your balance, your back hitting the mattress as he loomed above you, keeping you trapped beneath him. Perhaps it was because of the sudden heightened sexually-charged atmosphere, but you could feel your heart was beating faster than normal again, practically pounding within your chest.

You were excited. Excited by the feeling of anticipation for what could happen next tonight. Excited by the way Zayne was behaving, roguishly domineering as he took control of the situation. And excited by the prospect that whatever had happened and was going to happen could also lead to you and him expecting—

“Come here,” he whispered, his body pressing down closer to yours.

Caught under his beautiful hazel gaze, you didn’t notice Zayne had grabbed the can of whipped cream that had rolled to the side on the bed. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, distracting you as he shook the can a few times. When he pulled away, you whined softly from the loss of his sweet lips, making him chuckled.

“This can of whipped cream,” he murmured, though you barely registered his words, still intoxicated by his kisses. “What were your intentions with bringing this into our bedroom?”

“Hm?” You peered up at him doe-eyed, and he laughed again at your coyness. Suddenly, you yelped in surprise, brought back to the present when Zayne squirted a small dollop of the cold whipped cream above your chest. “Za-Zayne!”

“You said you didn’t get me a birthday cake, but you also insisted on bringing this can of whipped cream into our bedroom,” he continued in his soft tone thoughtfully. “One might surmise you were planning something… deviant with this, am I correct?”

You huffed, sighing, “You’re such a smart boy, Zaynie.”

He smiled in amusement at your vexed expression. “Then, as the… birthday boy, am I allowed to decorate my… treat?”

You felt a fluttering in your belly, an excited anticipation from hearing the heavy implication in his words. You nodded slowly, eyes following him as he shook the can again. You inhaled quickly, holding your breath when he squirted enough whipped cream to cover both your nipples before he set the can aside on the bed.

“Hm, I won’t be able to make a wish, will I?” he pretended to sound disappointed before he made eye contact with you. “Unless Miss Fairy here can also grant me my birthday wish?”

“What is your wish then, birthday boy?” You smiled at his playfulness.

“Will it come true if I say it aloud?” he wondered, leaning lower, letting the warmth of his breath brushed against your breast, a welcoming contrast to the cold cream that covered you.

Your breathing grew shaky, watching him with half-hooded eyes. “Te-tell me and we’ll find out together…”

“My love,” he whispered, his warm breath fanned against you once more, “I think you already know what I truly want…”

Zayne didn’t leave you any time to respond, his tongue already beginning to lick away the whipped cream from one breast. You squirmed from the stimulation, feeling his tongue brushed over your sensitive nipple.

His hands found your hips, gripping you tightly to keep you grounded beneath him. “Stay still,” he ordered, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You felt that ever familiar coil tightening in your belly, conditioned to always listen to him when he used that particular stern tone with you. You whined again, feeling his tongue licked around your nipple thoroughly before he showed the same meticulous attention to your other breast.

Your cheeks felt warm again, face flushed with renewed arousal as you peered down at him.

“Za-Zayne, the whipped cream is already all gone,” you said feebly before your hand suddenly covered your mouth, suppressing your startled cry when he sucked on your nipple hard before parting and staring up at you with a pleased smirk.

“It’s my birthday,” he reminded you, “Am I not allowed to indulge?”

“Y-You—”

He stopped you before you could protest. “Whose idea was all of this?”

He grabbed your soaked panties, fingering the stained fabric with a look of amusement. “Those photos you’ve sent earlier today.”

“We-well, they were just…”

“Just…?”

“Just… a preview,” you attempted to explain, “I didn’t think you would come hom—”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed dismissively, grabbing the can of whipped cream again, “And this?”

“I didn’t have time to get you a cake, so I thought we could…”

One of Zayne’s eyebrows lifted up. He pretended to be puzzled, but you knew he saw through your flimsy act long ago. He interrupted you again, his tone sounding over-exaggeratedly thoughtful, “Ah, you thought we could have just the whipped cream in lieu of a birthday cake, is that correct, my love?”

There was a stiff, noticeable silence after his question. You stared at him, lips twitching in annoyance briefly before you answered insolently, “Yes, just the whipped cream. You had said you would be working all da—”

“Open your mouth,” he interrupted once more, his tone commanding.

Confused, you obeyed him, opening your mouth a little.

“Wider,” he demanded.

Startled, you complied, unsure of what was going on in his head. You almost gasped when he squirted a decent-sized dollop of whipped cream into your mouth.

“Close,” he said with an amused smile.

You complied, tasting the lightly sweetened cream before it melted away on your tongue. Unconsciously, you licked your lips clean, almost wanting another taste of that cold sweet treat.

“This brand is delicious,” he said lightly, amused by the different expressions you had displayed in less than a minute because of this current situation. “We should buy another can tomorrow.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Why tomorrow—"

“Now lay back down,” he ordered, pointedly ignoring your question.

You did as you were told, gazing up at him with utter confusion, having never seen him act so terse and dismissive with you like this before. It was… intriguing, and perhaps admittedly, even… arousing.

Your eyes followed Zayne’s movements, watching curiously as he shook the can several times, his own eyes never leaving yours. You wondered where he was planning on squirting the cream next, but as it turned out, you didn’t have to wait too long for an answer, because in the next instance, your body jolted on instinct when it felt that cold whipped cream squirted between your legs.

Instinctively, you wanted to close your legs, but Zayne kept them nudged apart. “Stay still,” he ordered again. He tossed the empty can of whipped cream off the bed before settling between your legs. He gripped your thighs, holding them apart as he leaned forward, his tongue running over the small mound of white cream in front of him.

Reflexively, your hand clamped over your mouth again, cry muffled when his tongue brushed against your sensitive lips.

“Don’t hide your voice,” he ordered, peering up long enough to see your flushed, aroused face, your trembling hand barely covering your face as you breathed shakily. He leaned forward, his tongue diving forward again, mouth pressed closer, tasting you as his hands gripped your trembling thighs tighter.

“Za-Zayne, it’s too much—”

He hummed back in response, showing no sign of slowing. Shakily, one of your hands pressed deeply into the mattress in an attempt to steady your balance while the other one found their way into Zayne’s hair, fingers wrapping around thick dark strands, tugging hard whenever he sucked deeply. Unwittingly, you thrusted your hips forward against his mouth.

“Zayne!"

He continued to only hum his replies, the only other noise besides the lewd sounds of him eating you out, hungrily tasting your slick essence. You threw your head back moaning, your entire body wracked with pleasure. “Ah… ah…”

“I will never get enough of you,” he mumbled. “I could spend my whole life devouring you and my appetite would never be fully satisfied—”

You could hear him groaning, his own voice sounding shakier than before. You peered down through half-opened eyes, your mouth opening wider in shock at seeing his right hand wrapped around his cock as he stroked himself urgently while he indulged in you.

Oh, god… Zayne…!

You could see the precum on the tip of his cock, the sight had you trembling with need. You struggled to find your voice before you were able to beg him hurriedly, “F-fuck me, fuck me, Zayne.”

He paused and looked at you, appearing to also be catching his breath now. Seeing the desperateness in your eyes, he smiled and leaned toward you, taking your lips for himself. You moaned in between his kisses, the weight of his body pressed you down into the mattress, keeping you trapped beneath him.

“Want my cock inside you?” He teased, his lips finding your neck.

Your hands steadied themselves on his strong, broad shoulders as he planted deep kisses along your neck, leaving his mark on you. You could feel yourself completely dripping, aching to have his cock inside you once more.

“Y-yes,” you said breathily.

“You were so close to coming just now,” he murmured almost thoughtfully, “Why did you stop me from making you cum?”

You moaned at how sweet his voice sounded. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nudging your hips up closer to him, hearing his instant hiss of pleasure as you brushed against his erection. “In-inside me,” you gasped, “I want your cock inside me again. Want you to cum inside me again.”

“Is-is that so?” he asked breathlessly. He pressed a kiss to your temple.

You whined at him, feeling yourself clenching around nothing, needing him so much in this moment. The building desperation in you had robbed you of any inhibitions, your words were rushing out shamelessly as you voiced your desires to him: “Yes! Want your cock inside me, want to cum on your cock, want you to cum inside me—with me, please, Zaynie, please, want you to fuck your baby into me, please, Zayne!”

Zayne’s breathing grew erratic, feeling like he was getting dizzy by how sweetly obscene your tantalizing words and pleas were.

He wanted this as well, he realized. He wanted everything you were begging him for. Wanted so much and more.

“What a good girl you are,” he breathed, almost laughing in astonishment at what his ears were hearing. His fingers dove inside you again, delighting in the way you instantly moaned at the feeling before he pulled out, his fingers dripping again with your wetness. With that same hand, he let it wrapped around his cock again, stroking it leisurely as he covered himself with your essence before he guided himself to your waiting, willing entrance.

You squealed, feeling the tip pressing in and then more and more of him started to ease forward, dragging out a long, low moan from you as he filled you so deliciously full.

“Still this needy,” he groaned, “Still wanting to be stuffed full…”

You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he pulled out slowly and thrusted back in. He continued this languid pacing, letting you stretch around him again before he started to build a faster rhythm.

“You didn’t want to cum by yourself earlier, did you, my love?”

“N-no…” you whimpered at him, meeting his own aroused gaze. “Want to cum with you, want us to cum together.”

He seized your lips, kissing you deeply before he groaned softly, his breath feeling so hot against your mouth. “So sweet…”

You leaned forward and kissed him back, wanting to taste him again. With your arms wrapped around him, holding tight, needing to feel the weight of him on you, you felt Zayne holding your legs apart, keeping you spread for him as he drove deeper and harder into you.

“Want me to cum in you again?” he asked, sounding like he was close.

You could feel your own climax was also approaching again. “Inside me,” you urged him with a gasp, “Want you to fuck your baby into me, please Zayne!”

He shuddered at your words, his pacing growing more brutal by the seconds. “I want this, too,” he panted. “Want to see your belly growing round with my baby.”

You smiled at him deliriously. “M-more… tell me more,” you pleaded, his words having a euphoric effect on you as you felt that familiar feeling of your approaching climax.

He smiled back, nearly laughing at your eagerness. “You like that, darling? Want to feel your body changing for me?”

“Oh, yes… yes!”

“Good girl,” he groaned when he felt you pulsing around him. “You are going to be even more beautiful when you are pregnant.”

“Ye-yeah?”

“Of course,” he breathed, “Seeing you carry my baby will be the most beautiful sight I will have ever seen.”

“Oh… oh, Zayne, h-hurry, almost—”

He was no longer thinking straight. Hearing the way your voice pleaded with him, feeling your climax was fast approaching and knowing he was just as close, he hurried with his words, his movements rushing, pounding into you harder and deeper.

“I need to see you in tight clothing,” he said, gasping, “Want to see how big and round your belly can get.”

You moaned in agreement. “Yes… yes, I want you to see what you did to me—”

Fuck. Zayne nearly gasped again, his hips stuttering as it seemed you were the one edging him now. His hands grabbed your hips, tightening his hold as he continued to pound into you at that same rushed pacing. “What I did to you?” he almost laughed in disbelief at how you could still manage to be this audacious with him even when you were also about to come undone because of him. He laughed again, this time in agreement. “Yes, you’re right. What I’m going to do to you.”

You whined as you felt the intensity of his movements. “Za-Zayne!”

“I’m going to give you everything you want. Everything that I want,” he said, letting his inhibitions go as he succumbed to his desires and to you, “I’m going to keep breeding you like this, like how I’ve been doing for weeks now. You like being bred like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Zayne, yes!”

“Want me to fill your womb, want me to fuck my baby into you, is that it?”

You nodded at him.

“Say it.”

You cried, your walls pulsing around him had him groaning deeply. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes, Zayne! I want a baby. I want to have your baby! Please, please, cum inside me, breed me, don’t stop until you’ve knocked me up. I need you. I need you, Zaynie. Zayne—”

You screamed, his rushed movements suddenly stopping as he groaned deeply and came inside you right as your orgasm coursed through your body, leaving you crying in pure pleasure. He was gasping as he felt you milking him completely, your belly bulging enough to give the illusion that you had a small bump. He swallowed dry, the sight had him so lightheaded, he thought he was going to pass out.

He didn’t dare close his eyes, wanting the lascivious image of you spread out like this, taking all of his seed to be ingrained into his memory. It was such a beautiful sight, he thought, seeing how your body always reacting so euphorically to him.

In time, you felt the last aftershocks of your shared orgasms fading, felt him softening inside you, but Zayne continued to remain in your warmth, not wanting to part just yet. He cupped your cheek and you looked up, meeting his gentle smile.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek in comfort.

You smiled back and nodded. As he pulled out, you gasped quietly, already missing the feeling of him buried inside you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Zayne said softly, already prepared to leave the bed, but he stopped when you reached for his wrist. He peered down with a soft smile, his eyebrow quirking up in puzzlement.

“Later,” you told him, tugging him back to the bed with you. “I want to cuddle with you right now.”

“It’s my birthday, but why do I feel like I’ve been the one to indulge in your whims?” he teased, though he allowed you to drag him into bed with you again. He laid down, smirking in amusement when you squirmed your way back into his arms, nestling comfortably in his warm, loving embrace.

You peered up at him, grinning as you matched his playfulness. “You better get used to it.”

He raised a brow in question, waiting for you to elaborate.

“When I’m pregnant,” you clarified with a wider grin, “You will cater to my whims, won’t you, Zaynie?”

He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “You act like I don’t do that already on a day-to-day basis.”

Before you could make a retort, Zayne pressed a kiss to your temple, smiling kindly as he spoke, “I will be at your beck and call, Miss.”

You gasped and squirmed when he walked two fingers across your abdomen. Your cheeks turned rosy as you struggled to maintain composure. “Z-Zaynie…”

“Hm?”

“I… might not be pregnant yet…”

“We don’t know that you’re not either,” he countered with a smirk, delighting in your sudden coyness. He continued, “Let me pretend tonight. It’s still my birthday, is it not?”

You peeked at the clock on the nightstand. “Four more hours until midnight. So…”

You smiled with rosy cheeks when he leaned down and nuzzled his face against your flat stomach. Instinctively, you threaded your fingers through his hair. As you indulged in his whim, a sudden thought snuck its way into your mind, and you couldn’t help but pondered aloud, “What if…”

“What if what?” Zayne peered up at you, noticing your thoughtful tone and the way you seemed to trail off with your words.

“What if… we had conceived today?”

He looked at you in wonder.

“What if…” you continued, steadily growing bolder with your words, seeing the gleam of interest in Zayne’s eyes. “…we had conceived our baby… on your birthday?”

He laughed, seemingly tickled by the very idea. He sat up and leaned over to kiss you briefly. It was his turn to brush your hair aside as he gazed down at you fondly. “Wouldn’t that be a story in and of itself?”

“Surely, you are not planning on telling—”

“Our little secret, if that was the case,” he interrupted.

“Our dirty little secret?” you amended with a smile.

He sighed helplessly. “I wouldn’t put it that way…”

“I would,” you declared proudly.

“Of course, you would,” he said, deadpanned. Suddenly, Zayne blinked in surprise when you grabbed his wrist, laying his palm face up. He jerked from the tickling sensation when you glided the pad of your index finger across his palm. He furrowed his brows in confusion, asking, “What are you doing?”

“Sending you a message,” you said, beaming proudly. You giggled at his perplexed expression. “Here, I’ll start over.”

You dragged your finger down his palm, smiling when he reacted again to the tickling sensation. You held his hand tighter and made two short parallel strokes.

“‘I,’” Zayne said.

“Good job,” you praised brightly.

You continued with the next word, occasionally peeking up to catch Zayne’s reaction, seeing a knowing smile forming on his handsome face as he answered confidently:

“‘Love.’”

“Uh huh,” you said with a smile. You made a few more strokes for the last word.

“‘You,’” he finished happily, repeating, “‘I love you.’”

“You are such a smart boy, Zaynie,” you praised again with a wider grin.

“I love you,” he said once more, leaning toward you with one hand cradling your cheek. He sighed again, his smile unwavering and infectious. “I love you.”

He was overwhelming you, drowning you with his sweet love confession, repeating over and over again that one sentence until it seemed like his heartfelt words and devotion were seared into your very soul.

You returned his affections, kissing him back and savoring this sweet intimate moment with him, a treasured memory for you to selfishly lock away in a keepsake box just for yourself. Likewise, you knew this was also a night he would never forget, another moment with you for him to add to his unending collection of cherished memories.

Sweet nothings were exchanged, along with laughter and giggles, and passing kisses in between. Time seemed to move so much faster when you were with him, you realized with despondency, wishing you could slow this moment down, to linger in this afterglow, in this quiet world of you and him.

You kissed him slowly, kissed him sweetly, letting yourself fall deeper under his spell, whisked away by a love so tender and true. You let the passion between you both guided you through the night, let your body welcomed him back in, sinking down on his length, feeling every glorious inch filled you again as he peered up at you with vibrant green eyes.

To have and to hold, you answered his moans with soft sighs, moving with him with practiced ease, feeling every stroke as he guided you up and down, his hold on your hips tightening more and more as you both neared your release.

“Z-Zayne—!”

His lips found yours, and you embraced him once more, relishing in feeling his heat so close to your own. As the night carried on, before the stroke of midnight announced the arrival of a brand-new day, you whispered back, your lips to his and your heart forever his:

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Tag list: @lavlynyan @rainbowsnowflake @jasmines-greentea @notisekais @solifloris @natimiles @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @littleapplle @alfredosaws @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yourlocalcatscammer @qyuin @ladsarchivee 【 request to be added 】

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lnds fic — from osmanthus to snowdrop #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne x mc #zayne smut #zayne fluff #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #x — fanfics #orz #i guess this is happening frfr now #orz orz orz #i'm blaming my followers for this #also dedicating to all of the troublemaker anons who tickled my brain with this lmao <3333333 #love the hive mind that has happened because of our pookie zaynie <333333333

477 notes · View notes

rockscanfly · 2 months ago

Text

youtube

Noshir Dalal's (Charles Smith's VA and the man who largely shaped Charles into the singular character that he is, found here on tumblr @noshirdalal and on Cameo [in case you have your own questions you'd like answered]) beautiful response to my cameo prompt:

Q: You’ve mentioned before that Charles likes to read. What is his favorite book? Also, you’ve talked some about cowboy poetry and how you think it’s something Charles might have connected to. Can we get a favorite poem of his in his voice?

Besides the fact that this reading of "The Men That Don't Fit In" was just plain fantastic and moving as all get out, I really admire Noshir's choice of poem.

Similar to the poem’s author and his simultaneous celebration and castigation of the prototypical outlaw, Charles always came off to me as someone who loves his fellow gang members deeply but who didn't share their illusions about themselves or how they function within the larger context of the world around them.

Charles makes several remarks throughout the game ('Unpleasant? How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?' 'All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?' 'The amount of hell we raised, we’re owed some back') that indicate a high level of self-awareness about what it is the gang ACTUALLY does and how they're perceived by the outside world.

Arthur makes some gestures at this understanding throughout the game, but his moral musings are undercut by his inability to stand his ground against Dutch throughout the numerous acts of outright cruelty his found-father perpetuates in Chapters 4-6 (Arthur barks, but he never bites).

Arthur and John have their gripes and moans, but ultimately the two of them stick it out until the bloody end. Charles is the first person to really break free of the fate the gang is hurtling towards.

In a tragedy built on the back of it's main cast's inability to cope with a changing world, Charles is arguably the character who exerts the most agency. He makes the decision in Chapter 6--when the circumstances that once tied him to the gang have dramatically altered--to cut loose.

Because of this choice, he lives.

To me, at least, this poem--and Noshir's brilliant delivery--isn't about Charles himself. Or at least not just about himself.

Its him talking about the Van der Linde gang. Arthur and John, his second family. Wild, brilliant, bold, true, free--and gone. With nothing but graves to show for the lives they lived.

Charles isn't reciting a poem--he's reciting a eulogy.

Transcript:

Hey Rocks. Um, thank you for your patience with all of this.

Yeah, so we know that Charles reads and I know that we’ve talked before about a scene that apparently didn’t make it into the game, where after Charles’ interaction with Micah—and you know, yeeting him across the camp—Arthur comes upon him reading a book.

That uh, that scene affected me in a major way and I think it's probably the reason I portray Charles the way I do.

A guy who can physically manhandle pretty much anyone at camp having the mental and emotional maturity and self-regulation—if you can’t tell I’m a new dad [laughs]—to find a way to deal with his anger that doesn’t involve acting out and breaking stuff?

Told me a tremendous amount about Charles, especially because what I’d been introduced to was the idea that Charles was a really violent, really angry maniac.

And I love the idea that he’s really into poetry. I like poetry a lot. Actually when I was working on that latest skin for Yone (spl?) for League of Legends, I learned from the writing team that cowboy poetry is, like, a thing.

And so I decided to look some up. And I like to think that maybe that this is a poem that Charles would have had in that book he was reading.

The poem is called “The Men That Don’t Fit In” by Robert W. Service. Fitting, I think, especially for Charles for a number of reasons. I hope you like it.

[Noshir goes into Charles’ voice and recites below poem by Robert W. Service (British-born Canadian Poet, 1874-1958), published in his book Songs of the Yukon (1907)]

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in, A race that can’t stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and they rove the flood, And they climb the mountain’s crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don’t know how to rest. If they just went straight they might go far; They are strong and brave and true; But they’re always tired of the things that are, And they want the strange and new. They say: “Could I find my proper groove, What a deep mark I would make!” So they chop and change, and each fresh move Is only a fresh mistake. And each forgets, as he strips and runs With a brilliant, fitful pace, It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones Who win in the lifelong race. And each forgets that his youth has fled, Forgets that his prime is past, Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead, In the glare of the truth at last. He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance; He has just done things by half. Life’s been a jolly good joke on him, And now is the time to laugh. Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost; He was never meant to win; He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone; He’s a man who won’t fit in.

#charles smith #arthur morgan #john marston #the van der linde gang #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #rdr2 #red dead redemption #noshir dalal #charthur

200 notes · View notes

shadowsndaisies · 6 months ago

Text

codename: nightingale- auld acquaintances

reference: young justice season 1 episode 26

wc: 10.3k

synopsis: well shit gets real, conner yeets ng and robin, all while, ng reminds us why she’s the best, and the otp(s) get their shit (collectively and respectively) together

main masterlist

codename: nightingale series masterlist

a/n: I CANNOT BELIEVE I DID IT. you guys and your support have carried me though this process and the many YEARS it took me to get to this point. I have loved writing this since the beginning and I still do. Thank you for loving this story and the characters as much as I do. Enjoy!

MOUNT JUSTICE

December 31st, 03:12 EST

The cave was quiet as you zeta’d in. You’d only managed a few hours of sleep before you woke up in a fit. Ollie’s penthouse was silent though. And a quick check through the security system told you no one but you was home, in fact no one had come home, since you had. The team had made the decision to host a debrief at 0730, the next day, allowing everyone (mostly you) to recenter.

Given that the penthouse was empty, you decided to head to the cave early, if you were lucky, you’d be able to check the logs and see if Ollie, Dinah, and Roy were still up in the Watchtower or not.

“Recognized: Nightingale b-14,” the computer’s voice echoed in the darkness of the cave, and a couple of light flickered on in response.

“Computer, pull Zeta logs for the last 24 hours to the Watchtower, Nightingale Access delta echo charlie zero six,” you call out your code after a brief look assures that you’re the only one around.

“Access Denied,” the computer’s response throws you off guard as you pull up a screen, but you’re treated to a red screen.

“Under who’s authority?”

“Designation 0-2.”

“Batman?” you whisper the answer to yourself, but you can’t understand why. You’ve had access to the Watch Tower logs since Ollie and Dinah told you about the tower. You couldn’t get there without them, but you could access the logs to see who’s there currently, and you could usually see the calendar to know when Dinah and Ollie were scheduled.

“Computer, Canary Override: charlie romeo yankee seven eight nine three,” you attempt.

“Override denied.”

“What? Why?”

“Override denied per designation A-0-4.”

“A-0-4? Who is A-0-4?”

“Access Denied.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake!” you shout.

“Perhaps yelling at our computer system is not the best use of your limited time to rest?” a new voice interrupts.

You frown as you turn to look at Kaldur, “it won’t let me access the Watch Tower logs,” you huff, pointing at the red message glaring back at you.

“Why are you looking to access the logs?” he asks, brows furrowed as he looks between you and the screen.

“No one came home last night, K. I needed- I wanted- I just need to talk to Dinah, after everything that happened? I just wanted Dinah or Ollie, and they weren’t home. I passed out on the couch waiting, and when I woke up, they still hadn’t come back. I just wanted to see if they were still there,” you explain.

Kaldur’s lips pull into a frown, “They may be pre-occupied, the League, as you know, better than most, can be demanding, even at the best of times, and with the best of offers,” he states.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you defend, sensing his double meaning.

“You mean to tell me, my King is but a liar?” he challenges.

You’re quiet for a moment, Kaldur knew better than anyone, just how much you respected King Orin, “what did he say, exactly?”

“That you were also accepted into the League, that you were by far the best candidate off all those who were inducted, and yet, you were the only one who has said no to date,” he admits.

Your voice is quiet as you look at your friend, before you sigh, “how long have you known?”

“Since the meeting in November.”

“You didn’t say anything…”

“Neither did you, I decided it’d be best to follow your lead. You would have said something when you were ready to,” he shrugs.

“I’m not ready. I don’t feel ready, to be there, at that level,” you explain.

“You owe me no explanation, old friend. I have always had faith in your decisions, I won’t start questioning them now,” he assures you.

“Thanks, K,” you sigh. “Did he really say I was the best candidate?”

Kaldur smiles knowingly, and gently places a hand on your shoulder, “Come, M’gann stress baked cookies last night upon our arrival. We can indulge in those while we watch something?”

“Yes, please.”

You both got settled on the green sofas with a plate of cookies on the coffee table before you, and two mugs of tea. You were flipping through the available options when Kaldur spoke up again.

“I watched when you were barely in double digits trying to learn how to sort through your feelings and emotions,” he began and your grip on the mug tightened, while your hand with the remote dropped. “I watched as you turned it into a motivator, a strength. I watched how you learned to center yourself and be objective, even with only a decade beneath you. What you feel now, how you feel now, might be stronger, but you know how to utilize that, you know how to sort it. But until you can, until you’re able and ready, I hope you know I will be here to temper it. Just as I was before,” his tone is firm, as he expresses himself.

Slowly your gaze moves to him, and you take him in. This Kaldur was nearly an adult, he had given up the Conservatory, and trained with King Orin. This Kaldur taught you Atlantean, he helped you learn how to open yourself to magic.

“Kaldur…”

“We used to spar, do you remember? You were so full of rage and I remember the Queen sending me to spar with you one day. Garth and Tulla thought it would be unfair, they thought that with my age, my size, my magical and home advantage, you would be unable to compete. Fitting, that you knocked me down in mere minutes, despite being slowed by the water, despite being in a new place, despite your age and size. It was then that we all realized that you hold so much raw power, much more than you ever seemed to realize yourself.”

“You’d think you would’ve learned your lesson after Wally,” you scoff, sniffing to yourself and recalling the first time you met the boys.

“Oh, I did. Which is why I asked for you to be included in our studies, it’s why you studied with me, specifically, at the conservatory. You needed an outlet, then. So, you studied with us, trained with us, and despite not being naturally adept at magic, despite being out of your element, you held your own, you beat us several times. You mastered skills quicker than we ever did. You needed the distraction, to let go of all that you had been forced to carry at such a young age. I just hope you can trust me to help you with that again.”

“You were my first true friend, Kaldur’ahm. I had Roy, but he had always been introduced as a brother, you were a friend. You saw me, the realest version of me, rageful, angry, upset, scared, all of the negative emotions and you still decided that you would help me. You have always looked out for me, and you have always had my trust,” you’re resolute in your answer, no one had supported you through the hard parts like Kaldur had, because he was right. He had seen you at your angriest, he’d watched you fight as an outlet, seen you train yourself to the brink of exhaustion just to be free of the rage, even for a minute, and instead of telling you that you were wrong for your methods, he instead offered you new outlets, new opportunities. He lent you his strength and stability when you had none.

“I am honored to hold that title, my bird. We made a promise, you remember? A piece of our histories intertwined,” he states, smiling at you as he tugs a gold chain from under his shirt. Your gaze lingers on it for a moment before dropping to the ring you’d been subconsciously fidgeting with.

The ring that had allowed you to breathe underwater, the one that allowed you to live in Atlantis as if you were an Atlantean yourself, it was obviously special. But what made it so treasured was not the gift it gave, it was the who the gift was from. The ring had belonged to Kaldur’s mother. It had been she, who when King Orin asked for a volunteer, a home for the girl from the dry world, had stepped forward. She had opened her home, and had offered the ring to be enchanted for you. She became your advocate while you lived in Atlantis, she treated you like you were one of her own. When it was finally time for you to return to your home, over a year later, she had told you to keep the ring, “I’d always hoped to pass this ring to a daughter,” she’d said, and you cried as you hugged her one last time.

On Kaldur’s first trip to visit you, merely a month after you’d gone back to Star City, you’d given him a chain. It had belonged to your father, and he’d worn it his whole life. Something that had been gifted to him when he was young from his father, who got it from his father before him. There’s a small pendent that hangs, your family’s crest, just like on your ring, they were a set technically.

You’d managed to enchant the item with your limited ability just in time for Kaldur’s first visit. “It’s meant to be passed to sons. I’d really like it if our histories were intwined. If I’m going to carry such a meaningful part of yours and your mom’s history, then I’d really like if you were to carry this of mine.” As far as you know, he hadn’t taken it off since you gave it to him almost three years ago.

The frown reappears on your lips as you look at the chain, and then at Kaldur. “Sometimes… I wish I was still there. It was easier living with you. There were no secret machinations, just you and me, and Garth and Tulla. I- I was hurting, I know that, but-”

“I understand,” he promises and you can’t help but let out a watery laugh.

“Of course you do. You’re Kaldur’ahm, no one ever seems to understand me as well as you do,” you smile.

“Rest, my friend, you have earned it. Our debrief with the Batman is 0730, however, I suspect he will be here early.”

“0700?” you ask.

“See you then,” he promises, tossing you a pillow and a blanket.

“Thanks, K, for everything,” you smiled, plopping back.

“Anytime, my friend, anytime.”

MOUNT JUSTICE December 31st, 06:30 EST

When you wake up again, it’s to Conner staring down at you with a quirked brow.

“Shit, Conner, why are you just staring at me like that?” you groan rubbing at your eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you yet,” he admits, one hand rubbing at his neck.

“Yeah, I came earlier this morning. Canary and GA were at the Tower all night long. K, sat with me for a while.”

“Well, since you’re here… maybe we can talk about-”

“About your dad?” you ask, staring up at the roof of the cave.

“Don’t. Please don’t call him that. There's so much to figure out, but he’s not… not my dad,” you haven't turned back to him yet, but you can hear the tension in his tone.

“Genetic Donor then?” you offer turning back to him with a lazy smirk before adjusting yourself to lean against the arm of the sofa, tucking your legs beneath you.

“Genetic Donor works,” he sighs, sitting down in the now empty space on the sofa with you.

It’s silent for a minute as you both process, and then you're giggling. Conner’s eyes blow wide, as he stares at you. You cant help yourself though. Your giggles soon turn to full blown laughs, tears forming in your eyes.

“NG… nightingale… (y/n)!” Conners tone grew increasingly harried with each call to you.

“I’m sorry, I- I just… he killed my parents. I’m an orphan… be-because of Lex fucking Luthor, and he’s the only reason you're even here. He’s the reason I’m here!” you’re still laughing.

It has to be some sort of break, your mind finally deciding it's had enough.

That's when the laughs trail off, and you're left with tears.

You stop heaving and you take a deep breath, everything grows silent, you shut your eyes and center yourself. When you open your eyes you're staring at Conner again.

“I don't know how to fix this,” he admits.

You offer him a weak smile as your shoulders droop, “you can't,” you relent and Conner sags back into the sofa too.

“What now?” he asks.

“We be honest with each other, and the team. You and me, we're bonded by something now. I didn't realize it when we freed you from your pod, or when you helped us escape, but we are.”

“Allies against Lex?” he offers, holding out his hand.

“Allies against Lex,” you confirm, shaking his hand.

A not so innocent piece of you takes advantage and reads his emotions. You're reassured by the feelings of honesty, compassion, and belonging. You stare at Conner for a moment before letting go of his hand.

“What time is it?” you ask, stretching out a bit.

“You have about 15 until debrief.”

“Okay, thanks,” you sigh, standing up.

“I’ll see you in the cortex?” he asks, standing up as well.

“Yeah,” you confirm before heading to the locker room.

You're all standing in a line when Batman finally zetas in. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Rob, or anyone else from the team about yesterday before he arrived.

He starts by asking for a rundown of events. Which we oblige. We explain everything from start to finish, the reveals, the truths, the plan for Santa Prisca. Everything leading up to the moment of Lex Luthor’s escape.

And when all of that is said and done you swallow your fears down hard before stepping forward, “Additionally, after defeating Bane with Robin and Zatanna, when I became aware of Luthor’s escape-”

“She was a little upset, which I’d argue is completely warranted considering everything we found out yesterday,” Wally cuts in, interrupting you before you can admit to how you lost control.

“Yes, but-” your second attempt is interrupted as well.

“Which is why we would like to request that the development of a case against Luthor be a Team priority,” Robin’s the one to cut in this time, proffering an official request on behalf of the team.

You risk a glance at the Team, and you don’t need M’gann’s abilities to understand what they're trying to say. So you shut up, and step back in line, waiting for Batman’s response to the debrief as well as the request.

He doesn't say anything for a minute, and then Kaldur is stepping in, “We have reason to feel proud of yesterday's victories. But one thing has not changed,” he alludes.

“Somehow, the bad guys are still getting intel about us,” Robin offers.

“Yeah, but at least we know none of us are the mole,” Wally counters.

For the first time that morning Batman finally speaks up, “That's correct,” he confirms, and he does so with serious conviction.

You want to be reassured by his confirmation, but something about the whole briefing was throwing you off, and it wasn't the discussion of Luthor.

“The mole,” he begins again, “was Red Arrow.”

Theres a brief silence as Roy’s image is displayed before everyone explodes.

“Roy?” Robin repeats disbelievingly.

“No way!” Wally’s voice had pitched up in his rebuttal.

You on the other hand, felt as the first of the strings holding you up snapped. Kaldur places a hand on your shoulder as if he knew, before turning back to the Dark Knight, “Batman, that cannot be. He was Green Arrow's protégé. We have all known him for years.”

“Unfortunately, the Roy Harper we have known for the last three years is another Project Cadmus clone,” Red Tornado explains.

You have to fight to catch your breath, this couldn’t be happening. You’d known Roy longer than that, you would've realized!

“We've learned the real Speedy was abducted and replaced soon after becoming Green Arrow's sidekick,” Batman explains and you finally step forward.

“No,” the seriousness of the word echoes in the cave. “I’ve known Roy longer than that, its been way more than three years! I would have noticed if CADMUS had substituted my own brother in front of me!” your argument is urgent, something had to be wrong.

“Unless they took a self fabricated opportunity to substitute the clone in a time of chaos. Where Speedy’s patrol partner and closest confidant was… gone?” Batman paints a picture but you're so hyper-focused on the Roy of it all you miss what he’s hinting to.

Theres a sharp intake of breath behind you, when you turn you see Kaldur, his eyes wide as he stares at you, “You came to Atlantis almost four years ago, you were gone from the surface world for over a year…” he reminds you, and you feel another string snap.

“No.”

“You said everyone seemed different, you were different, you were re-adjusting, it’d be reasonable to assume you wouldn't have noticed,” Kaldur’s tone is soft.

“No! Don't you understand?” you shout, turning to the team. “If that's true, it means the riot where they escaped was planned, they meant to cause a distraction, to throw us off guard so that they could switch-”

“Switch their Roy for ours,” Wally finishes, green eyes full of remorse on your behalf.

“And they waited almost year to put that into action, capitalizing off of the disarray of Star City's heroes,” Artemis tacks on.

“I would have noticed!” you argue, voice cracking as you try to reign in your emotions.

“The clone was pre-programmed with a drive to join the Justice League,” Batman intervenes, continuing to provide the information he had at hand. “Which is why he was so angry over any delays to his admission and why he refused to join the Team. This Roy Harper had no idea he was a clone or a traitor. And his subconscious programming drove him to become League-worthy. So he struck out on his own as Red Arrow.”

Your head was spinning, heart beating so fast and loud in your ears, it was a miracle you were still standing up. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. Where was Dinah and Ollie? If this were true they’d come to tell you in person, they would. How could Ollie have not noticed? How could Dinah? Something had to be wrong.

“When he was finally admitted, his secondary programming kicked in and he attempted to betray the League to Vandal Savage.”

Your stomach flipped, Savage?

“Fortunately, I had already deduced Red Arrow was a clone. We were prepared.”

He had what?!

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you whisper, Conner and Kaldur seem to be the the only two who hear you as they offer you mildly concerned expressions.

“Savage was subdued but Red Arrow escaped. He is now a fugitive, armed and dangerous,” Red Tornado continues.

“If you guys hadn't rescued me from CADMUS...” Conner trails off, eyes jumping from me to Kaldur.

“What happened to the real Roy?” Rob’s the one to voice the question and your heart stutters. Real Roy as if the one you'd known since your return wasn't real in some way. They were both real, at least they were to you.

“We don't know. He isn't at Cadmus. We have to face the possibility that the real Roy Harper is dead.”

You can't stop it. The bubble of grief, pain, and guilt. It bursts out of you, and of course Kaldur’s the one to catch it. His hand lands heavily on your shoulder, and you take deep breaths to center yourself. They don't know, you remind yourself. He could be alive and on ice somewhere, you repeat. You're forcing thoughts of hope down your own throat, hoping something will be digestible.

The last thing you're expecting is for Robin to grab ahold of your hand, not in front of Batman, and not after yesterday’s incident. Today, however, he doesn't waver or flinch back like he had the day before, so you can't tell if he can feel what you are right now. He simply snags your hand and tightens his grasp, until you're squeezing back.

“The clone Roy. The Team will find him,” Kaldur decides, his tone leaves little space.

Yet, somehow, Batman blows it wide open, “Negative. Red Arrow's a member of the Justice League now. Leave him to us.”

There's an argument forming on your lips, but a beep from his comms forces you to shut up.

“I'm needed on the Watchtower. Tornado, stay with the kids,” Batman decides and Robins hand slackens a bit. Kids? Since when did Batman call you kids?

The zeta lights up a second later, “Recognized, Batman, zero-two.”

You turn and run to the closest bathroom, you can hear as a few people shout after you, but you’re focused on making it to the bathroom. Your knees hit the ground hard as you all but collapse and then your heaving up the little that’s in your stomach. The protein bar and cookies that Conner had swiped from the kitchen for you, the orange juice Kaldur had poured for you, and the the blueberries that you’d scarfed down as well.

There’s a hand on your back, another keeping your hair back. “Wally?” your voice is a hoarse whisper.

“It’s me,” he affirms.

You nod and close your eyes for a second before you’re heaving again.

“I got you,” he promises, gently rubbing circles into your back.

You knew that, Wally’s always got your back. You know he probably didn’t hesitate to chase after to you, and that he most likely told everyone else to stay back. “I would have noticed,” you repeat.

“(Y/n)…”

“I should have noticed,” you say, sliding back, wiping at your mouth and leaning against the wall before turning to your friend.

“That’s not on you,” Wally argued.

“He’s my brother, my responsibility,” you shoot back.

“C’mon, let’s get you back before Rob starts panicking,” he huffs, pulling you up.

“I need to bru-” before you can finish Wally disappears and reappears with the toothbrush from your locker and a tube of toothpaste.

“Your teeth?” he asks cheekily.

You shake your head before quickly brushing your teeth. When you and Wally get back it’s to Kaldur’s awaiting stare. You offer a nod and he turns to face the rest of the team before looking back at you. He gives you a look signifying that it was your move this time, your call. Your stomach’s still unsettled but you swallow down your nerves and confusion before addressing the team.

“Clone or no clone, Red Arrow was one of us. For three years, he was ours. We will go after him, and we will figure this out, on our terms,” you decide.

You had planned to say more, but the sudden sounds from Red Tornado force you to stop. He freezes about a foot and a half away from you. Then, it's like he shut down. A sound as if he was being powered down, as the entire armor freezes, and his head tilts down.

“Tornado!” M’gann’s shout is slightly panicked.

“What happened?” Conner’s squinting.

“He's powered down,” Wally notes, tone slightly curious.

“All functions off-line,” Robins got a frown as well, analyzing Red Tornadoes stats on his wrist-computer.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you note, staring between the stats as well as Tornado.

“Guys, I'm sensing a low-level mystic force at play. I don't know if it caused his shutdown, but… now that I think about it, I was getting the same buzz off Batman,” Zatanna admits, and your frown deepens.

“Batman,” Robin repeats. “He called us kids. He never does that.”

You step forward, analyzing every aspect of Tornado that you could, Wally comes up behind you and does the same.

“Look,” Wally’s call pulls your attention. When he straightens up you can see something in his hands, “One of those bio-tech chips we confiscated off Cheshire.”

“Nightingale is right, something is not right,” Kaldur agrees. “Robin, Kid, Zatanna, Rocket, see if you can get Tornado back online,” he directs. “The rest with me to find Ro... Red Arrow.”

The team pauses despite Kaldur’s clear instruction, and slowly they look from him, to each other, and then to you. You know why they paused, even Kaldur seems frozen as he stares at you. His decision would put you into the field, it would allow you to look for Roy, to be there when the Team finds him. Going with them would also separate you from both Wally and Dick.

You must’ve stayed silent too long, “Birdy,” Wally’s voice seemed to echo as he called out your name.

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking up. “Kaldur’s right, we.. uh, we have to split up.”

Wally and Dick look at each other and then they look at you.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them. “I have to find him, my brother, my responsibility. Plus, who knows him better than me?”

No one has an answer and you nod.

“Suit up,” you confirm once more before the team nods, and disperses accordingly.

Wally, Dick, and Kaldur hang back. The three of them don’t speak, but they’re exchanging looks with each other and with yourself. No one says a word, but you offer a look of your own, and then roll your eyes at them. They pause and as always, Wally’s the first to crack. He throws his hands up looking at the two other boys and then gesturing to you. When that doesn’t get the response he wants, he throws his hands up again, waving them around.

You smile softly, hands coming to Wally’s shoulders. You offer a forced lopsided smile, tilting your head to the side. Wally responds by shaking his head, and you tighten your grip. You give him a pleading look, Wally’s face scrunches but he finally stares at you head on. You nod, gently and he sighs before nodding back.

You pass along a feeling of comfort, trying to make him understand that it’ll be okay.

“Yeah,” Wally confirms, before walking off.

Kaldur offers you a nod of his head and you nod back, before he walks toward the bioship.

You pause for a second and take a breath, and then there’s a hand on your shoulder and you’re hit with concern, longing, and a need to protect. You take another breath and turn to face Dick. He’s staring at you for a second, he opens his mouth and then closes it. In the end he stares at you making a closed fist with his right hand and rubs little clockwise circles on his chest. Your ASL was passable, a skill that Dinah and Ollie thought was important to learn for the streets, it seems like Bruce thought the same for Dick. Sorry, that’s what he was saying.

You know what he’s sorry for, you knew it the second he grabbed your hand. You take your right hand, rub a circle with your palm against your chest, and then with a flat hand swipe above your temple with your fingertips, I know.

He shakes his head, the barest of a smile on his lips.

You offer a soft smile at Dick one last time before walking towards the locker room. You’re quick to grab your gear, and you’re silent until your in the bioship, and in the air.

“Old friend,” Kaldur’s voice is soft inside the bioship, but you’re forced to pay attention to him regardless.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you sigh.

“Oh?”

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known,” you trail off.

“Wrong,” Artemis interrupts.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, we were all going to say it,” Conner scoffed.

You soften at that.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say sadly.

“How so?” M’gann’s voice is as soft as it has always been.

“Because I did know, a piece of me did, at least,” you tell them, gaze focusing on the clouds as you pass them by out the window.

“What?” Conner’s accusation cuts clear.

“I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. Ever since my abilities… he would get angry, over things he never used to. I just wrote it off, I- I knew it was wrong, it felt wrong, it didn’t feel like natural anger, it was sudden, it was triggered but not by anything I could see. I should’ve said something, should’ve told someone,” you admit to them.

“You had no reason to suspect ulterior machinations,” Kaldur countered. “And though I know it bothers you, you both had grown apart since the foundation of the team.”

“Yeah,” you nod, fingers tracing over the ring dagger you’d been fidgeting with, “maybe.”

WASHINGTON, D.C. December 31st, 09:06 EST

“Logs indicate Red Arrow zeta'd to the Hall from the Watchtower,” Artemis stated, “But he could be anywhere by now, I also was only able to read the Hall logs, the Watchtower ones have been classified,” she adds on.

Kaldur clears his throat and turns to you expectantly, “So, I kind of didn’t appreciate how Roy tried to cut ties with everyone when he went solo, so I might’ve done some digging…” you trail, typing in new coordinates.

“Digging?” Conner asks.

“Okay, fine, investigating, and tailing, and the whole package pretty much. I found his main apartment, and discovered that he had installed equipment caches in several major cities,” you relent.

Conner coughs out, “stalker,” before clearing his throat, and you roll your eyes.

“One is here,” you continue as the bioship comes to a stop over an apartment complex.

“So… who’s going down, because, uh… not it,” Artemis muses weakly.

“I am,” you assure her.

“We are,” Kaldur corrects.

You nod and you both stand, you readjust your utility belt and pull a sweatshirt over the top of your suit, and then you pull your leather jacket on as well. It looks inconspicuous enough, at least as much as it would ever for your needs.

You and Kaldur drop to the roof, the access door was unlocked and you made your way down one floor. Roy had gotten an apartment on the top floor. When you come upon the door you crouch down with your lock picks, but between your latent anxiety, and the need to find Roy, your focus is slightly skewed.

“Perhaps, this is not the time for stealth?” Kaldur offers sagely.

You sigh and hang your head, hiding your lock pick tools in their place under your sleeve once again, “yeah.”

“Shall I? Or, would you like to?” he asks, gesturing to the door.

“I will,” you nod, standing back up.

You take a breath and stare at the door, and then with a heafty amount of force you kick down the door, you manage to put in enough force to rock the door off a hinge, and when it clears your vision you’re greeted by Roy holding up his bow with two arrows notched.

You notice the way his hand dips a second as he realizes it’s you he’s got an arrow focused on, “How’s it hanging, Roy?” you ask, but there’s a tough edge to your tone.

“You know, business as usual, Birdy,” he huffs out, but he retrains the arrows on you both.

“We have not come to harm nor apprehend you,” Kaldur cuts in. “But the Team requires answers-”

“Me first,” Roy interrupts. “Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else… tell me who broke your heart.”

Your jaw drops, “Roy!” your tone is more chastising than it was before. You know why it’s necessary, but it’s a low blow for Kaldur, a very low blow.

Kaldur places a hand on your shoulder, “Tula. The girl I loved chose my best friend Garth over me,” he answers, and you can hear the fight to keep his voice level. “While the man I consider by best friend on the surface world aims an arrow at my chest.”

Roy moves and suddenly both arrows are pointed at you.

“Roy-” Kaldur’s tone turned dangerous, but to your credit your eyes narrow and you tilt your chin up at him daringly.

“E.T. phone home,” Roy says, and you don’t need to touch Kaldur to feel the confusion rolling off of him.

There’s a pang in your heart, Roy, this Roy, was pulling on one of the earliest decisions you all made, code phrases. Methods to promise sanity, self, but also a warning when necessary. They were all movie phrases, famous enough to remember, but mismatched enough that no one would be able to guess. You’d both decided on them after you’d returned from Atlantis and Dinah let you return to patrol.

“Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” you whisper.

Roy’s entire body sags. The bow and arrows clatter to the floor as he drops to his knees, and you’re quick to drop with him. You land on your knees right in front of him.

“You’re killin’ me, Smalls,” you whisper once again to him.

“As if,” he shoots back, and you crush him in a hug.

The both of you clutch onto each other, you grip him tight just for the minute being. You hug him tight and he hugs back, and you revel in it. In it’s familiarity. He might have not been the Roy that was brought home to you, but he is the one you spent the last three years with, he is still your Roy. The one who helped you readjust to being back in Star City, the one who would drive you to school, and would tap you gently when you’d accidentally slip back into Atlantean. The one who would reassure you that life was going to be okay, who would sit beside your bed, who would hold your hand, who watched your back, he was your brother. Your brother, your responsibility.

Slowly you both re-centered, and then you hauled him up to the roof, and then all three of you were pulled back up into the bioship. It’s quiet when you’re all back.

“We’re clear,” you say quietly and there’s a collective breath let out.

Everyone settled into their seats and soon enough we were back in the air.

Kaldur doesn’t waste any time, “We were told you were the mole,” he explains and Roy puffs out a breath.

“But we have reason to doubt,” you quickly inserted.

“Forget doubt. I was the mole,” Roy states, and you let out an audible groan, staring up at the roof of the ship.

“Batman and Tornado said you’re a CADMUS clone, like me,” Conner admits.

Roy turns to look at you, and you offer a slight nod, “That explains it,” he nods with a sigh that makes him seem more tired than surprised. “I was a sleeper agent, pre-programmed to infiltrate the League…. I think Sportsmaster was my handler. He had a key-phrase, Broken Arrow… that could shut me down, put me in a hypnotic state to steal secrets for his superiors, or incorporate further programming. I'd then carry out all orders subconsciously completely unaware of what drove me.”

Roy paused and you stared back at him, “take me back?” you whisper to him and he shut his eyes and nodded once more before turning back to the rest of the team, specifically the three seated behind you.

“I think one of those orders was to focus suspicion on the three of you. I'm sorry,” he adds on.

“How did Batman discover this and prevent you from betraying the League?” Kaldur asks.

Roy pauses, and looks at you, “He didn't.”

“Fuck,” you sigh.

“Birdy,” Kaldur’s voice is level, and there’s a request in it to make sure you remain so as well.

“So what happened?” you ask, pulling yourself together.

“The entire League’s been put under mental domination via those chips you guys found,” Roy sighs, scrubbing at his face.

“The ones we got off Jade?” Artemis cut in.

“Yeah, he called ‘em Starro-tech, an alien bio-organism infused with nanotechnology and magic,” Roy explained.

“Nanotechnology and magic?” you repeat. “Artemis, in the Bayou, you said you saw-”

“Klarion, the Brain, Gorilla Mallah, and Professor Ivo,” she answers.

“If there was ever a trust that could pull something like that off…” you trail.

“What do they do? The chips?

“It shuts down the mind’s autonomy, allows the controller to reprogram the individual to suit their needs,” Roy explains.

“Wait…” Conner calls interrupting. “You said He called them, who’s he?”

Roy grimaces, looks around the ship and then straight at you, and you already don’t like where this is headed, “Savage,” he says and you don’t even make it a second before you explode.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you shout. “VANDAL SAVAGE? WHAT THE FUCK!”

“Language,” Roy says automatically, and then he twitches, like he hadn’t meant to say it. “And I knew you weren’t going to like that.”

“But this chip, it affected everyone?” M’gann asked, and you had no doubt she was thinking about her uncle.

“This Starro-tech, it worked on super-powered humans, four flavors of alien, an android, even Doctor Fate,” Roy explained.

“Defeating all of you without a fight?” Conner asks.

“Indeed. A remarkable achievement. One not easily countered,” Kaldur points out.

“I'm sorry, but how is it that you are no longer enslaved?” M’gann’s the one to ask and your body tenses up.

“No Starro-tech, for starters. Just my CADMUS programming, and once I had satisfied its last parameter, my mind began to clear,” Roy admits. “I'm sure Savage planned to Starro-tech me, but he paused to bask… I escaped.”

You turn in your seat and look back at M’gann, urging her to understand, and luckily, she does. She nods at you with a gentle smile, “I promise, I can clean any residual programming from your mind,” M’gann says, reassuring you, despite the intention being directed at Roy.

“Linking both squads and de-camouflaging,” M’gann’s voice suddenly echoes in your head and you spot the super cycle as it moves into docking position.

“Great. Because we really need to compare notes,” Robin’s voice has an edge, and as you come face to face with him and the other half of your team, you spot Wally’s frown and notice Dinah.

“What the fuck?” your voice takes on it’s own lethal edge as your gaze jumps from your unconscious and tied up mentor to the rest of the team.

It took some time but eventually both halves of the team had been caught up, now the only think left was to figure out the next move.

“What if we reverse engineer the starro-tech?” Wally’s the one to make the suggestion and it has all of you pausing.

“Great idea, but how?” Artemis’ tone is dry but she makes a valid point.

It goes quiet and that’s when you have an idea.

“ti tha ginótan an rotoúsame ti vasílissa?" (what if we were to ask the queen?) the question echoes across the link but only one person can understand.

Kaldur blinks slowly and in a hesitant tone asks, “*Rota tin gia ti akrivos?*" (ask her for what exactly?)

Your lip quirks a bit, “*an boroúme dioikitís Giatrós V?*" (if we can commandeer Doctor V?)

You’re not sure what you were expecting but you’re not sure why you were surprised, Kaldur’s always backed your plans, “Pistévete óti o Red échei akóma ton arithmó tis Roquette?" (Do you think Red still has Roquette’s number?)

You offer a lopsided smile, “**Tha chreiastoúme óli ti voítheia pou boroúme na pároume**." (We’re gonna need all the help we can get.)

“Would someone like to clue those of us not fluent in Atlantean in?” Conner’s tone cuts through your conversation.

You share another look with Kaldur.

“It’s your plan,” he prods.

“Wally has the right idea, we have to reverse engineer the chip. We don’t stand a chance if we don’t,” you remind everyone.

“But you have a plan that will address that,” Robin realizes.

“Of course she does, when it comes down to it, our girl’s always got a plan,” Wally snorts, but by the way he scrubs at his face you realize he’s on edge.

You nod, “what do we know about the staro-tech?”

“Alien bio-organisim infused with nanotechnology and magic… what are you thinking?” Roy trails.

“I think you have the number for a nanotechnologies expert who owes us a favor, and I happen to know a few individuals who specialize in magic and science, in fact they run a whole conservatory, that teaches kids like us, well, like Kaldur,” you hint to everyone else.

“Doctor Roquette and Queen Meera,” Robin realizes.

“Alongside Doctor Vulko, who runs the Atlantean Science Center, he’s the Minister of Science for the kingdom,” Kaldur adds.

“Doctor Spence too,” Connor adds, “She worked for CADMUS, she probably can help reverse engineer the chips.”

“Which means there’s also three people we need to pick up, ASAP,” you point out.

Another silence fils the ship, Wally’s already shaking his head, and Rob’s still staring straight at you.

“We have to split up,” Rocket’s the one to state the obvious.

“Again?” Zatanna’s voice wobbles a bit.

You bite down hard on your lip to keep yourself focused.

“We have to, the quicker we get them, the quicker we fix this. We have to fix this,” you say, voice level.

“How do you want to handle it?” Robin’s the one to ask, his own voice level, but you can see the twitch in his hand.

Your lips tug down as you prepare to answer, because there’s only one possibility, “Superboy and Miss Martian will pick up Dr. Spence. Kid Flash and Robin will escort Red Arrow-” you don’t mean for your voice to crack but it does. “Will escort Red Arrow and retrieve Dr. Roquette.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Wally’s scoff, clearly depicts what he thinks of your decision.

“Dude,” Robin’s quick to cut him off.

“And Aqualad and I will take the super cycle to go to Atlantis,” you finish. “Artemis, Zee, and Rocket will play support, and keep tabs on Canary. Please do not lose my mentor. Plus they can run background with RT.”

You’re met with silence.

“This is the plan, if someone has a better idea, speak up now, otherwise, you know what you have to do,” you swallow back the anxiety, and focus your gaze on Kaldur, you can’t look at anyone else, not right now.

You remember his words from earlier, to lean on him, and to allow him to support you. It was all so overwhelming, it’s all too much, but staring at Kaldur reminded you of the little girl who was barely 10 when she was dropped in Atlantis. The girl so full of rage she couldn’t sort through her own emotions. Kaldur knew how to help that girl center herself, taught her how to cope and handle things.

“Well if no one else is going to say it; I have some thoughts,” Wally scoffs again.

“Trust me, we know you do, Wall-Man,” Artemis’ dry tone actually puts a smile on your lips, a small quirk of a thing, but it works.

“I’m only taking constructive criticism at the moment,” you tag on, and your gaze finally flickers to Wally who is simply glaring at you.

You offer a shrug in response, and you can feel the heat of Wally’s glare, the discomfort radiating off of Dick, but you don’t have it in you right now to address it.

ATLANTIS December 31st, 13:13 EST

“Our friends are… displeased,” Kaldur notes cautiously once it’s just the two of you on the supercycle.

“I know,” you nod, and you did, you felt it in the air, rolling off your teammates, your friends, as you and Kaldur geared up to split off.

“What are you thinking, poulí?” the question weighs heavy on you.

“I am thinking that this is my only plan, K. I don’t have a back up if we should fail this time around,” you admit.

“Then it’s good we trust in your planning, old friend. Your plans have never led us astray thus far,” he muses.

“Define astray,” you scoff back, Kaldur lets a smile slip, and then a hand lands on your shoulder comfortingly.

“They believe in you, and so do I,” he reassures you. “This idea, utilizing our resources, it is a good plan.”

“Vandal Savage, Kaldur, it’s a big play we’re chancing at here,” you sigh, twisting your rings nervously.

“Yes, and we are making the most educated choices we can. Believe in yourself, poulí, just as we do.”

You nod silently doing your best to absorb Kaldur’s reassurances. Soon enough the Super-cycle begins to descend. It pauses part way submerged, and you reach out with the ring clad finger to touch the water. Kaldur is silent beside you as you ground yourself. You feel the current, the pull of the ocean, and firmly you say, “anapnéo,” the ring made from atlantean metal glows, and then with a tap to the Super-cycle it submerges completely.

The first breath is always a bit nerve wracking, it feels like you’re entirely out of practice, and therefore not prepared to breathe. But you do. You cautiously, slowly breathe in, and when it feels as normal as it does on land your body relaxes.

“pos niótheis poulí?" (how do you feel, Birdy?) Kaldur’s question jars your wandering thoughts back into the present.

“étoimo na cheiristeí ó,ti prépei na cheiristeí ,” (ready to handle what needs to be handled) you assure him and he nods.

Minutes pass and then you are confronted with the city of Atlantis, beautiful in all its glowing magic and technology. You smile at the city fondly and catch the wanting in Kaldur’s eye, this was him home, and for a year it had been your own. The two of you had developed your friendship in this city, it will always, without a doubt, be a very special place for you.

As the cycle passes through the gates and toward the conservatory, you push the melancholic nostalgia away, and do your best to focus in on the mission at hand, there was too much as stake to be distracted by memories of the past. As Kaldur disembarks, you follow, and the two of you make your way into the Conservatory of Magic.

MOUNT JUSTICE

December 31st, 15:42 EST

“So you need us to develop something that will work against, whatever magicked up alien technology that Mr. Big Bad, Vandal Savage is using against the Justice League?” Roquette’s tone was the same as it was when you first encountered her, and you share a look with Kaldur when you both notice it.

“The heroes have come to us for help, should we not so long as we are able?” Dr. Vulko, ever the voice of reason, and forever on the side of progress is the balm you didn’t realize you’d need.

“I agree, this is an opportunity to do good with the knowledge we have acquired over our years,” Dr. Spence’s agreement catches you off guard, but the pride and satisfaction rolling off of SB tells you this is exactly what he’d hoped for.

“It’s simple, Kaldur’ahm and Poulí told us what’s wrong, you’re either here to help, or they can show you the door,” Tulla’s blunt and to the point, and you have the choke down the snort as you stare appreciatively at the redhead, you notice that Kaldur’s doing the same, some things, you imagine, would never change.

You’d all regrouped at the Cave, scientists and specialists in hand. Tulla had been Queen Veera’s contribution and envoy as she could not leave Atlantis without a sane monarch, and especially not in a time where the King had been compromised. Each recruit had been given the details during their travel, but once they were all together, the gravity had seemingly begun to set in. Dr. Rouquette was as vibrant as she had been when you’d first met, despite that though, they had begun a prompt discussion on how the chip works, and a prefatory analysis on the confiscated chip.

“So do we think this is gonna work? Or should we be considering a back-up plan?” Rocket’s voice echoes though the open link and while the specialists continue their discussions, the team sends knowing looks to each other.

“this is the plan, the only plan,” you tell them seriously.

“Wait, seriously? You always have a back-up?” Artemis’ surprise is evident, and your lips twist down in response.

“Figures, considering her go-to has also been compromised,” Wally’s judgement is clear and your eye twitches in response.

“Sorry about that,” Zatanna’s voice is meek in response, and you catch the way Artemis, punches Wally in the arm, and his accompanying wince.

“So not your fault,” you finally cut in. “And I don’t hear you offering something else up, Wall-Man?” you state bitingly, shooting him a glare at which Wally winces again.

“To be fair, this was originally his idea,” Conner cuts in.

“Semantics,” Robin disagrees, “plus, Birdy’s the one with the connections to make it happen.”

“Gee, thanks, Rob. My genius and l feel so appreciated,” Wally scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Right, so… back-up plan?” Rocket asks again.

“I don’t know! Short of contacting any non-affiliated heroes, or intergalactic organizations, I’m not sure what else we can do,” you sigh, a hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of your nose, while you work to secure your emotions and constrain your frustration.

“Intergalactic organizations?” Rocket repeats.

“OA,” the response is echoed by Wally, Rob, Roy, and Kaldur, you can’t help but notice this is the first time Roy was participating.

“OA,” you confirm, and then catching the confused look, on Rocket and Zatanna’s faces you add, “The Green Lantern Corps.”

“Oh,” Zatanna’s understanding is soft, as her eyes widen.

“We have a line to them?” Rocket asks, surprise evident.

“…We have potential avenues,” Robin supplies, defending your point while making eye contact with you.

“We do?” Artemis’ question is fair, and you hesitate, but your eyes lock with Roy, and then with Dick.

“Earth has another Green Lantern,” You remind the team.

“Is he not a part of the league?” Zatanna squints.

“…There were some concerns about his attitude and maturity,” Dick supplies cautiously.

“But they let Roy in?” the dig slips from Artemis’ thoughts, and by the look on her face you know she didn’t mean to project that particular thought.

You can’t help the very audible snort, and a hand comes up over your face in embarrassment as everyone turns to you.

You catch the small smirk on Dick’s face, and Wally’s chuckling a little bit too. And when Roy turns to you, betrayed, you can’t help but start to giggle, and when your avert your gaze, they land on Wally. Which really was the worst move because then you’re both laughing.

“Okay!” Roy huffs. “Laugh it up, Birdy,” he scoffs.

“Sor-” you try but burst into another fit, until you’re practically leaning on Kaldur to stay upright.

When you finally get control, you catch the small smile on Kaldur’s face, and even Roy’s scowl has faded a bit.

“Sorry,” you say seriously, bitting your lip and straightening up.

“Should we be worried?” Rocket asks, wide eyes on you.

“No, sorry, I just… whew, I needed a laugh, thanks Artemis,” you smile.

Artemis blushes a bit in response, “What were you going to say about the other Lantern?” she prompts, pushing the conversation back on track.

“Right, Guy Gardner,” you share. “Kind of a bully based on Canary’s files, it’s the reason he hasn’t been inducted. But he is a Lantern, and the ring did choose him. He’s based out of Baltimore, Maryland. If we fail here, we just need to get word to him, hopefully he’ll take it seriously,” you shrug.

“Reassuring,” Rocket laments flatly, and all you can do is shrug again.

“Kaldur’ahm, Poulí, I think we may have come to an understanding,” Vulko’s voice booms across the room, and your head snaps to him immediately.

“What do you need?” you ask, setting your shoulders, as the rest of the team turns to face the brain trust.

THE WATCHTOWER December 31st, 23:16 EST

Infiltrating the Watchtower was not something you’d ever thought you’d have to do. However, somehow, you really can’t find it in you to be totally surprised.

Dinah, now freed from Starro-Tech’s control, along with Roy and Red Tornado had gone in as a distraction, allowing the team to handle the rest. Part of you had been hesitant to let Roy out of your sight after finally finding him. Not to mention Dinah. You’d twitched a little too violently, when she volunteered to go back, and Roy and Dick had both given you cautious looks as a response.

The waiting was the worst though.

You watched as M’gann, Kaldur, and Connor broke through the wall where the Bioship had docked. Robin kept an eye on the alarms and scanners the entire time, covering the Team’s tracks as he went.

Eventually, it was time.

“RT did it. Wirelessly bypassed security for us as soon as he arrived. Savage shouldn't know we're here,” Robin confirmed, once we’d all regrouped inside the watchtower.

Aqualad nodded, before casting a quick glance at the rest of the team, “move out.”

“Currently tracking five League members between us and Savage,” Robin shares as you and Kaldur begin leading everyone though.

“Which ones?” Artemis’ tone is dubious, even through the link, and you can’t really say you blame her.

“Plastic Man, Hawkman, the Atom, Captain Atom, and… well,” Robin pauses on the last one and you turn back to look at him. “Green Arrow.”

The team pauses, as they wait for the next move. There were nine of you, which meant almost everyone could double up, almost.

A quick glance at Kaldur tells you he was thinking the same thing.

“Here’s the plan…” you speak first, “We work quietly and quickly. Take every opportunity to knock as many of the Leaguers out as we can before Savage and his cohort baddies realize what’s happening. Artemis and KF, you two take Plastic Man. SB and Rob, Hawkman. Zatanna and Miss M, the Atom. Aqualad and Rocket, Captain Atom. Leave GA to me,” the team nods, but once again you notice their hesitation.

“What?” you press.

“Are you sure you want to handle GA? One of us can do it,” Wally offers tentatively.

“No. He’s mine. But Rob, I could use a favor…”

Armed with one of Robin’s recording birdarangs you split off from the group. You’re following your map to where GA’s icon is moving, and periodically you get updates from the rest of the team.

First it’s KF and Artemis.

“Plastic Man in gassed, and chipped,” you can practically hear Wally’s smirk as he reports in.

You turn another corner.

“Hawkman’s chipped too,” Robin reports.

“Probably going to be out for a bit. I might’ve hit him a little too hard,” Superboy admits.

You pause when you hear Oliver’s footsteps. Spotting the crates, you launch yourself up. Walking on the balls of your feet, you climb up, silently.

“We got the Atom,” Zatanna confirms.

You catch sight of a support beam, a few feet above you, and launch yourself up with as much strength as you can muster. You manage to grab hold, and then you pull your body up, until you’re balanced on your feet, walking the beam.

“Captain Atom is incapacitated, but chipped,” Kaldur’s the next one to confirm, which just left you.

You pull the chip from your belt, as well as the birdarang. Following Oliver’s path ahead, you toss the birdarang, it lands solidly in the wall.

A beat passes.

And then a second.

And then-

“Ha, Ha, Ollie, over here!”

Your giggle echoes down the hall, and Oliver’s quick to turn to the sound.

“NG, status?” Robin’s voice rings through the link but you ignore it.

You take your grapple line and wrap it around the support, making sure it’s snug in place, before attaching the line to your belt.

“Birdy, you copy?” Wally this time.

Oliver’s almost in position, and so you count.

one.

two.

three.

You hold your breath as you lean back.

For a second you’re falling, and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Luckily, the speaker starts again.

“Ha, ha. Ollie, over here!”

The recording covers the sound of the grapple going taught.

“Nightingale, report in!” Kaldur, and he’s serious.

You get about two seconds before Oliver realizes the birdarang’s what’s making the sound, and you’re suspended in the air, halfway between the ground and the support beams of the Watchtower.

The chip, which you’d been flipping around your finger’s is poised between your index and middle fingers, and right as Ollie turns, baring the side of his neck, you toss it. You throw it the way Dinah taught you to throw a shuriken.

The balance had practically been the same.

It hits Ollie and there’s a second when he turns to you, arrow drawn.

And then he collapses.

You tug on the grapple cord and it slackens. You land on your feet, twisting the cord back into your grapple as you walk up to the downed Green Arrow.

“GA’s chipped,” you finally say, tuning back into the link.

“We’re not splitting up anymore,” Wally says quickly.

You roll your eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, KF-”

“You didn’t answer us!” Artemis cuts in.

This time you scoff.

“They have to realize by now,” Robin speaks up.

“He’s right, we need to move. Zatanna and Miss Martian, you two head for the dock Zeta, Rocket and I will join you,” Kaldur decides. “The rest of you head up.”

“On the way,” Zatanna confirms.

You’d started making your way back up, sticking to the support beams as much as possible, so far, you’d avoided any further League interactions.

“That’s Dr. Fate, Icon, and Captain Marvel taken care of,” Zatanna speaks up, and you pause for a second.

“Too bad Cure-tech doesn't work as fast as Starro-tech. We could use these guys,” Rocket huffs, and your lips quirk up, she’s not wrong.

“It is a small miracle Queen Meera and Doctors Roquette, Spence, and Vulko were able to re-engineer a cure and vaccine at all,” Kaldur reminds her.

“And their combined 8 PhDs,” you muse.

Before anyone can respond to your joke, KF interjects, “If you guys aren't busy...”

Your breath catches, but Kaldur’s already on the move, “On my way. You three rendezvous with Robin and Superboy.”

You pick up your pace as well, and are only partially paying attention when Zatanna gives her confirmation.

“Uh, I'll be right behind you,” she offers.

You manage to arrive at the main deck in time to Batman hit Robin.

“I am so not turbed,” is how you announce yourself, as your jump down from the level you’re on, using your grapple to loop down to the one where Robin is.

“Yeah, me neither,” he promises.

You’re on your feet in time to fall in step with both Superboy and Robin, both seem to be smarting a bit after taking on Batman and Superman, understandably.

“We're not gonna beat them one-on-one,” Robin finally announces.

“Plan B, then,” Superboy confirms.

“And I thought my contingencies were drastic,” you manage to joke out before taking Connor’s hand.

Conner grabs a hold of you with one hand, and Robin with the other. Using his strength he spins you both, before launching you one after the other at Batman.

You land first, grabbing a handful of his cape to pull him with your momentum.

Robin’s body crashes into you both a second later, and then the three of you go into the wall. You can feel your bones rattle from the impact, but when you slide down, you manage to grab a hold of a chip as Robin hold’s Batman steady.

You place the chip, before changing your stance to drop into a roll. You pop up on one leg, escrima sticks in hand, and Robin lands crouched beside you.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before you hear Superman and Superboy go into a wall of their own.

You both take off and you hesitate when Robin reaches to his belt.

“You sure about this?” you ask as you both run up to them.

Superboy manages to grunt out a, “Just do it!” as he strains to hold Superman in place.

You grab hold of another chip while Robin opens a box.

The green light reflects off their faces, and you watch as it seems to drain them both. Conner and Superman both start sliding down, neither of them fighting anymore as they go.

As soon as Superman falls, you’re quick to place the chip, and once you do, Robin’s shutting the lead lined box tight.

You sit back on your ass and let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning back to check on Conner, who was pulling himself up to sit against the wall beside you.

He lets out a groan, looking at you and then at Robin, “Ugh. Kryptonite… hurts,” he admits, and you can’t help the scoff that slips past your lips.

It brings a smile to Robin’s face though.

“Which is why,” he begins, offering a hand to Conner. “Batman keeps it in an overwhelmingly impenetrable vault at the Batcave,” he explains, pulling SB back to his feet.

“Overwhelmingly impenetrable, huh?” you smirk up at the two.

Both boys smile down, offering you a hand.

“Well, more like a whelmingly penetrable vault,” Robin corrects.

You snort, taking their hands, and they’re quick to put you back on your feet as well.

“Let’s go. Vandal Savage awaits,” you remind them, and the two nod at you, before the three of you take off toward’s the main viewing deck, where the main Zeta point was for the Watchtower.

Unfortunately you get there just in time to watch Vandal Savage, Klarion, and his familiar, Teekle, disappear through a portal. Wally skidding into where they had been not even a second before.

You redirect yourself over to where Dinah and Roy are unconscious on the floor.

Wally whizzes up to you and grabs your spare de-programing chips, placing them on the leaguers who were up here, before sliding back up to the rest of you.

“Congratulations, Team. You have won the day,” Red Tornado announces, and you let out a tired chuckle at the thought.

None of you have an opportunity to respond though, because in the next second, a holoscreen appears.

“Happy New Year, Justice League,” the computer announces.

You don’t catch what Wally said, but when you turn to him, he’s holding Artemis, and they’re kissing.

Your lip twitches up, and then Connor and M’gann too.

“I’m liking this Team more every day,” Rocket decides, smirking as she kisses Kaldur’s cheek.

You roll your eyes and gag at Robin and Zatanna, both of whom smother their laughs. Zatanna looks away as she tries to keep her composure, but Robin stares back at you.

“Milkshakes?” you mouth to him while no one’s watching.

“Definitely,” he mouths back.

“Human customs still elude me,” Red Tornado announces in response to the kissing, and you can’t hold back your snort.

THE WATCHTOWER January 1st, 00:42 EST

It took some time, but eventually the Leaguer’s began to wake up, and slolwy they all arrived back in the entry deck.

“Everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie. I'm not a hero or a sidekick. I'm a traitor, a pawn,” Roy’s tone was low, dejected, in a way you’re not sure you’d ever heard it.

Dinah reaches out, placing a hand on his arm, “Roy, it'll be all-”

You wince when you watch Roy pull back from her. Bitting too far into your lip and tasting blood.

“I'm not Roy! I don't know what I am. All I know is I need to find the real Roy. I need to rescue Speedy,” he counters.

You’d been too anxious to sit when everyone else had. electing instead to stand across the table from Roy while Ollie and Dinah took the seats on either side of him.

“We’ll help you. The team I mean. And if not, then I will. We’ll find him,” you cut in, licking over your split lip.

“Guardian is already searching Cadmus,” Batman add, reassuringly.

Ollie had been unusually quiet.

“We should take Ro- Red Arrow, home, at least, for now,” Dinah decides.

You caught her slip up, everyone at the table probably did, but no one commented.

“Of course, all four of you can go,” Batman nods.

You catch the tonal shift, and you hesitate.

You’re not sure you would’ve noticed it if not for the rest of your abilities, but you know there’s something else.

“I’d like to stay,” you announce and everyone turns to you. “Just for a bit,” you backtrack, “I want to make sure the Team’s set, and I need to speak with Aquaman about how we deconstructed the chips,” you expound.

Roy looks like he wants to bolt, not that you balme him.

Ollie’s holding himself stiffly.

Dinah looks a little queasy at leaving you here on your own.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure them.

“I’ll escort her, to Arthur, and then back to the Zeta’s,” Batman offers, and you notice as Dinah realxes, but only a little.

“Not too long,” she adds, though it’s perfunctory, you can tell.

“Promise,” you nod.

She smiles once more at you, weak and strained, before she and Ollie take Roy toward the Zeta’s

You wait until they’re through before you turn back to Batman. Robin and Kaldur had taken the seat on either side of him, and the four of you were the only ones left in the room.

Your hands land on the table with a loud smack that echoes thorough the room, and all three sets of eyes shift to you.

Yours, however, are focused on Batman, “Something else is wrong,” you say.

You’re not asking, you’re not, because you know.

Batman hesitates, looking to Robin for a second before turning back to you, and then nodding.

“The entire League was under Savage's spell for just over a day,” Robin begins, sharing a holoscreen with you. “We've accounted for most of that time. But these six went missing for a full 16 hours we can't account for.”

You stare at the screen. Batman, Superman, Green Lantern; John Stewart, Hawkwoman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhinter.

Powerhouses, all six. Each in their own right, different skills, different tactics. It’s terrifying to think what they could have accomplished for Klarion and Vandal Savage in sixteen hours, the implications were limitless.

“Sixteen hours,” Batman repeats, “what did we do?”

STAR CITY January 1st, 02:04 EST

It’s another hour or so by the time you make it back to Star City. You’d talked with King Arthur, shared with him how you and Kaldur had gone to Atlantis, and that Queen Meera had been appraised. And then you’d circled back to the cave to shower and change.

It’s two in the morning when you make it home, and frankly, you’re surprised to see Roy still up.

Dinah and Ollie weren’t around so you assumed they’d gone to bed. They probably thought he had too.

“Hey,” you greet lamely.

“Hi,” is all he offers back.

You drop your gym bag down by the door, and replace the lock before walking over to the sofa. You drop down beside Roy, but you leave a healthy space, not wanting to crowd him. You turn, tucking one leg under you, so that you can face him better.

“I know it’s a stupid question, but I’m going to ask anyways,” you begin, but he doesn’t look at you, focused instead on something just past your head. “How are you?”

He lets out a snort, but it’s dry, and sad, and you can hear it for what the answer it offers. Stupid question.

“I don’t know…” he says after a minute of silence. “But… I don’t really know anything anymore,” he adds on.

You bite on your lip again, wincing when your teeth make contact with the split lip you’d forgotten about.

“Fair,” you offer, agreeing.

“It’s fine,” he huffs, shrugging you off.

Your eyes narrow at that, it was a lot of things, fine isn’t one of them.

“Roy-”

“Don’t call me that!” he hisses, and you pause.

“Okay,” you concede, swallowing thickly. “What should I call you?” you prompt instead.

“I- I.. I don’t know, just.. I’m not Roy Harper, I’m not!” the last words come out as a sob, and you flick the piece of you that wants to give him space the recesses of your mind, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around his middle the best you can.

“How about Red, at least until we figure it all out?” you offer instead.

“Stop,” he cries. “Stop being nice, and understanding, I replaced him!” Roy’s voice is low, and sad, and you know he wants to make his point, but seems not to want to wake up Dinah or Ollie.

“She’s asleep so I’m going to say the bad words she tries to keep me from using,” you begin, delighted when it gets a wet snort out of the redhead. “But fuck that,” you say seriously, and he snorts again.

Finally turning to look at you, though he’s stuck with it, seeing as you’re practically pressing into his side.

“Look, I’m not blaming Ollie but I’m sure as shit not blaming you either. And I think it’s okay to acknowledge the fact that what you went through in the last few days has been harsh. That it was thirty-one flavors of traumatizing. God, Red! I’d be a fucking mess if it were Dinah coming after me, but it’s not your fucking fault or theirs!” you huff out.

“You owe Dinah at least $20, for just the last minute alone,” is all he says in response.

You scoff.

“Look, Roy or not, you’re my brother too. You have been for the last three years, and just because you’re a clone, it doesn’t make it less true,” you say seriously, and he goes quiet.

You let out a long sigh.

“You should get some sleep, tomorrow’s gonna be a long day,” you finally offer after the silence stretches.

“Yeah,” he huffs, standing up.

You stand after him, tugging him into a tight hug, that he doesn’t seem sure of how to respond to.

“Goodnight, Red,” you say gently.

“Goodnight, (y/n),” he whispers, before peeling you off of him, and walking away.

STAR CITY January 1st, 10:22 EST

You slept horribly.

The worst ever, actually.

Okay probably not, but it was still pretty bad.

The light at the end of the tunnel where the two hours of no questions you’d managed to wrangle out of Dinah.

You were already in a booth when he walked in.

Sat with your eyes closed, leaning against the linoleum seats, and when the overhead bell of the entry door rings, you blink them open in time to see Dick find you.

You offer him a muted lazy smile, and he gives you one in return.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey,” you say, sliding down.

He takes the invitation, settling down beside you instead of across from you.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It seems you both were talked out after the events of the previous day.

Eventually, Mrs. Lenetii brings out a milkshake for you both, cooing over you, before siappearing to take care of another table.

Your head lands on his and his fingers interlace with yours.

“Bad night?” he asks after you’d both been ignoring your milkshakes for too long.

“yeah,” you nod.

“Yeah,” he repeats.

Slowly you lift your head.

You’re close, the two of you. His face is right there, his lips.

He’s staring at you with the wide blue eyes, and you wonder if he’s suddenly as nervous as you were.

You thought of Wally and Artemis at Midnight, of M’gann and Conner, even Rocket. But they were all older. You and Dick were the youngest on the team. It had never felt like it more until right now.

“Um-” he stutters out. “I… uh.. Can I?” he trails off.

“Have you.. ever?” you question back.

Neither of you have moved apart though.

“No,” he admits. “You?”

“No,” you share.

He offers you a shy smile, and it’s the first one in almost forty hours that doesn’t feel strained.

When he tilts down, you move up. There’s no fireworks. And your noes’ bump, and you giggle. And then your teeth clack, and he laughs. It’s awkward and kind of strange, and not at all what the movies make it sound like it’ll be, but it was your first kiss, and it was his too, and it tastes a little like the chocolate and strawberry milkshakes you’d both been sipping on, and all of it together makes it kind of magical in an of itself.

No matter what happened next, what came next, you had Dick, and you knew he had your back.

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

dc taglist: @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare @uh-oh-howd-i-get-here

cnng taglist: @babymango-writes @smile-more19 @bruiscdlikeviolets @truly-dionysus @farfromjustordinary @sometimeseverythingsucks @dweeb-central @lucy-roo @casedoina @cipheress-to-k-pop @anonomano @seninjakitey @whelmedparker @officiallydarkgeek @midnxghtblue @unini @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient @dontmesswithbeebo @raggedyoldwitch @bouqet-of-gay @duckmylife18 @kendallambrosio @notslaybabes @torchbearerkyle @cynthiarose07 @mono--moonchild @emo-space-tea @notsostraightweeb @sassyspanishartist @ahyeonah @acceber1313 @onepieceformeplease @whatislifeandhowdoidoit @luvelyxp @lovelyartemisa @evermoore580 @mischiefmanaged71 @cryingnotcrying @aces-tattooartist @we-flower-fan @awkward-youtube-trash @laurcad123 @sanovr @feverish-dove @lolsnacks

321 notes · View notes

pigfacedbitch · 3 months ago

Text

I Worship You

summary : they fell in love with a Greek deity.

word count : 0.8k

type : headcanons

pairing/s : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson x Goddess! Reader

warning/s : large age gaps (lol).

here's my masterlist!

Note : I will also be posting the same idea with Nico, Leo, Frank, and Will.

Jason Grace

You were a Camp Jupiter regular. VIP access. Eternal backstage pass.

Unlike the other gods who ghosted their kids harder than a bad Tinder date, you actually cared about demigods.

Probably because you were one, back in your 'mortal coil' phase.

You knew the struggle. The whole, 'my divine parent left me a prophecy and trauma' starter pack.

The joy of being chased around by monsters while trying to survive longer than Zeus' affairs with women.

Jason first saw you and thought, "Wow, that’s the prettiest counselor I’ve ever seen."

He was just a kid. You were immortal. It was awkward.

The camp had to break the news that you were a literal deity because of Jason’s intense puppy dog crush, and the poor guy almost got zapped into the next reincarnation.

Reyna never lets him live it down. She brings it up during arguments to win.

"You know I’m right, Reyna."

"Fine, but remember when you almost got yeeted with your own lightning because you’re a simp?"

"I was ten!"

It works every time.

As he aged like fine wine (or a stressed Roman soldier), his teen crush evolved.

Your acceptance made him feel seen and understood. It's all he ever wanted.

Jason doesn’t just want your guidance anymore; he wants your love.

He is reminded everyday that supposed to be the perfect Roman, the champion of the gods, a celestial poster child.

But secretly? He prays to you more than any of them.

Not in the "Hey, can you back me up so I don't die?" kind of way. More like "ANYTHING FOR YOU, BEYONCE!" kind of devotion.

You’re having an existential crisis because you practically watched him grow up.

It felt questionable.

"I’ve been around before your puberty."

"Now, I’m emotionally and physically available. Growth."

"I raised you!"

"And I’m trying to wife you up. Can we please just move on?"

You were ancient. Like 'I knew Kronos when he had abs' ancient.

Jason didn’t care.

His whole life was a checklist of what others expected from him.

He had been a puppet his whole life.

Choosing you was finally something he wanted for himself.

It felt like rebellion and therapy.

And once you gave in? Oh, boy.

The golden retriever in Roman armor became yours. Completely, irrevocably, gloriously yours.

Sure, he still does heroic stuff, but you’re his top priority.

Zeus and Hera were livid.

You 'stole their chosen one', or as Hera puts it, "MY PRECIOUS BLOND TROPHY!"

They called you a temptress, a manipulator, basically what they are.

You called them irrelevant.

Because what could they do? Smite you? You've survived worse.

Percy Jackson

You've been his spiritual stalker since Quest #1.

Not in a creepy way, more like a magical support staff that whispers, "You got this!" before he punches a hydra in the face.

Unlike other gods who appear just to flex and disappear like flaky Instagram influencers, you helped from the shadows.

No appearances. No booming voices from the sky. Just vibes.

Whenever he was scared, you sent him courage.

When he was hopeless, you slipped in a little optimism.

When he was depressed, you were the cosmic version of a comfort blanket.

Percy didn’t trust it.

The gods never do nice things without expecting a thank-you fruit basket, or a blood sacrifice.

Yet you did.

So naturally, he did what any traumatized teenager would do: scream "SUS! THIS IS SUS!" in his cabin like he’s playing Among Us at 3AM.

Curiosity got the best of him, so he tried the classic 'summon the mysterious deity' trick. "Hey, mystery spirit! Can you show up before I call customer service?"

Motherfucker even used an Ouija board.

You didn’t show up.

Then he realized you only appear when he’s in real danger.

He decided right then and there that the best way to summon you like some divine Pokemon was to almost die.

Multiple times.

"Hey, Percy, maybe try not to die just to talk to your celestial crush?"

"Grover, let me have this."

When you finally appeared before him, furious and radiating 'I could kill you myself' look, he was dumbfounded.

Not by your glare, but by your beauty. You were beyond words. Probably a good thing, because his brain was busy rebooting.

Hearing his full name made him fall harder, honestly.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, PERSEUS JACKSON?!"

"That I missed you?"

From that point on, he kept 'accidentally' stumbling into peril just to get your attention.

You two became… familiar.

Extremely so.

The more you appeared, the deeper he fell.

When Percy realized he was in love, it wasn’t fireworks or cheesy Disney dance numbers, just serenity.

Just a calm, warm feeling in his chest that said, 'This is home.'

"Are you glowing or did I just eat too many pizzas?"

"That’s eight boxes."

"Shhh. I was trying to flirt."

For the first time, he didn’t feel like he had to fight, to prove, to perform.

You were the calm in his chaotic life.

The eye of the storm.

His little slice of paradise in a life full of monsters, trauma, and water-based destruction. His divine chill pill.

And if anyone tries to mess with that?

Let’s just say he didn’t inherit all of Poseidon’s chaos juice for nothing (Alexa, play Ruthlessness from EPIC: The Musical).

Because Percy’s got two moods: goofy, surfer dude from Manhattan and eldritch hurricane who tortured Akhlys in Tartarus.

Choose wisely.

293 notes · View notes

ichimerapunk · 1 year ago

Text

Scene/ part of a story idea I want to put into a fanfic somewhere at some point

So, Danny had been staying with the Waynes. One evening without warning the GIW show up and managed to brute force their way into the manor and past Alfred just long enough to take down Danny and take off with him into one of several white vans of theirs.

The Bats, who had just left for their nightly patrol, give chase. However right before they catch up to the vans booking it out of Gotham, an 18 wheeler pulls out in front of the vans blocking their way. As several of agents pile out to confront the driver (and then pull out their guns when the truck is empty), they don’t automatically notice as the agents that were in the van containing Danny are yeeted out of the vehicle, unconscious.

The remaining agents turn in time to see what appears to be Danny being carried off by another ghost. The remaining agents pile into the remaining vans and take off down a side road to follow them. Jason and Dick are ordered to follow them. At the same time the doors of the remaining van close and Dan behind the wheel takes off.

With Sam giving directions over comms and Tucker manipulating traffic lights Dan intentionally gets as many cops as possible on his tail, driving the van just how his dad taught him in the GAV. The cops are quickly joined by Tim on his bike. During the chase Barbara manages to hack into the signals of whoever had been changing the lights and, through abnormal static, heard several voices coordinating their every move. After catching the attention of enough cops, Dan, while evading but not losing them, books it towards where the remaining vans are still chasing who they think is Danny. Dan catches up to them under an underpass/ short tunnel and uses a brief moment of being obscured by the police to wedge himself in amongst them. [Basically, take the opening chase scene from Baby Driver for the most part; I’m unashamedly taking inspiration from that.]

The vans are all unmarked and have tinted windows. The police have no way of quickly discerning which van they had been chasing down and so the now large number of police surround and forcibly stop all them. (Enjoy getting tied up with that mess for a while, agents.) As they are being stopped, Tim jumps off his bike and runs to the one he knows Danny was in only to just in time see someone that looked like Danny, but had long hair and eyes that turned from blue to red, disappear without a trace.

Above them, the two fleeing figures also disappear. Dani/Ellie* had been dressed as Danny and had been carried by a Dan duplicate. Back near where the chaos happened, Jazz slips out of her hiding spot in the shadows struggling with an unconscious and injured Danny. As soon as she slips out of her hiding spot, Batman appears having not been fooled by the distractions.

…

That’s the basic rough idea of it. I don’t know if this scene sounds at all as epic and cool as I imagine it to be. I think hope it could actually be pretty cool if I can manage to write an action scene.

*Not sure which I would go with in the story

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc fanfic #well part of one anyway #dan phantom #dani phantom

504 notes · View notes

alikuarso · 7 months ago

Note

To answer your question about Fresh: Fresh is actually a parasite! He dresses in his 90's-themed clothes and speaks in a silly way so that others underestimate him. His main and utmost goal is to Survive, and the way he does that is by infecting other people with his parasites and draining the life from their souls. Being seen as harmless lets him get closer to them and gives him easier access for possession. He hopes to eventually take over the multiverse, spreading his parasites in every corner of it and having absolute control.

He also has no emotions. He is capable of them, but for whatever reason he is unable to feel much, besides the rare instance of anger. He does frequently feel fear, though.

He is a bit sadistic, and he likes seeing others suffer. This is because when he takes over someone he drains their soul of life, which causes them pain. And to him, taking someone's body means safety, it means he can survive a bit longer as long as he's snatched their body. So he's come to associate the pain of others as something good.

And he's also aware of the creators/viewers, thanks to an event called the Loveball, which is canon to his character.

Going to copy and paste my own words for this [I was talking to a friend about Loveball]:

"So, like seven years ago there was a fandom-wide event called the Loveball, where people gathered their OCs and had them all attend an UTMV dancing ball. Fresh went, of course. There, he met a Frisk called Pacifrisk. Even knowing who he really was [90's parasite], they still believed he could be good. Before this, he hadn't ever really felt a connection to anyone, or even positive emotions in general. But Pacifrisk's faith in him made him feel positively towards them. This freaked him out. [No Fr@ns though, don't worry. That wasn't the intention for this plot.]

As a result, not only did he try to kill them, but he also went through with his plans: the Fresh Takeover [I forget what it's actually called]. His true reason for attending the ball. OCs were either possessed by the parasites or tried to fight against them. Apparently, some people used alcohol to ward the virus off, as Fresh hates substances such as that.

Fresh wanted to take over the multiverse, with this Loveball being the first step for his total domination.

But then right in the middle of things, a Sans AU [which I totally forget the name of X,D] grabbed Fresh and basically yeeted him into an alternate state of being. One where he could see the creators, all staring at him. An audience.

The Sans revealed the nature of Fresh's existence: That he was simply a character in a story. And if the creators got bored of him, he could easily be written aside and forgotten. Erased. His conquest didn't matter, in the end.

Predictably, this gave him an existential crisis. I'm not sure what happened after, but he stopped invading and went somewhere to contemplate his existence in a depressed state.

Afterwards, he had a new goal: To entertain. To convince the creators that he was worth keeping around. Similar to his previous goal of survival, but now with more dire stakes."

His creator @loverofpiggies has some posts about the Loveball, tagged under either the 'fresh sans' tag or the 'loveball' tag, which I recommend you check out! ^^

But yeah, to answer your question: The reason Fresh fought Ink was probably 1: because he saw it as a good way to keep himself alive and 2: So that he could be relevant and interesting to the viewers.

Hope this answered any questions you might have about him! ^w^

THANK YOU BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY I WOULD HAVE FOUND ABOUT ANY OF THIS OTHERWISE😭😭😭 THAT'S A LOT

Now I want to draw fresh existential crisis mood, That's something I never would have imagined existed

Im still a bit confused about fresh not having emotions¿ but I think I got the idea, but still, why does he feel fear?

I think fresh is becoming my favorite now, help, error do something

(Thank you again for your time✨️)

257 notes · View notes

awrkive · 2 years ago

Text

[DRABBLE] COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK.

you were used to jungkook making the first move every single time but this particular night, you couldn't help but change things up a little bit.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (minors dni pls)

WORD COUNT 4.1k (this is def not a drabble anymore but its like 70% smut anyway saur 🤷🏼‍♀️)

WARNINGS/MISC jk in grey tracksuit 😢 oc is not a procrastinator everybody booed. kinda domestic vibes everyone wants to have what they have including ms delusional me !! this is my literally me fic kinda (this is literally just oc thirsting over jungkook OEBDIDHSJEB) also imagine 3D jungkook guys.... 🙏🏼 smut warnings: oral s*x (m&f receiving, 69 position), penetrative s*x, multiple positions, overst*mulation, creampies, unprotected s*x (dont fls 🙏🏼)

NOTES heyyy so i reread cnbl last night and scrolled thru unanswered messages on my inbox and found these 2 (amongst many IEBDIDHSHD) drabble reqs for cnbl and decided to write it bcs i love and miss them!! unfortunately i lost my ao3 password and i have nowhere to post this so whatever im gonna start posting here again LMFAOOOO. anyway, i hope u guys enjoy this 💗 this is most esp dedicated to the second anon i hate college as well i hope this drabble brings you joy ☺️

‼️CN&BL FULL FIC CAN BE READ HERE

You missed who you were thirty minutes ago.

Before Jungkook arrived, you were extremely focused on the essay you've been stalling to get done since last week.

You were set on finishing the paper tonight, determined to submit it a day prior to the deadline – which is two days from now. You've never been a procrastinator and you wouldn't dare start now. But ever since Jungkook called, arriving a little over five minutes after your conversation on the phone and entering your dorm room, you have never been the same. Gone was your will to finish your essay; it yeeted out the window the moment he came in.

It wasn't that he was doing anything wrong, per se. He wasn't pestering you or doing anything to distract you from doing whatever it was you were doing. During the phone call, Jungkook told you he just wanted to hang around and you were in on it. "As long as I finish this essay without you doing anything funny" – that, was what you said. Joking, a little pointed, when he came barging in your door, socks on and hair still slightly wet from the shower he most probably had at his own apartment.

When you said those words, the goof just wiggled his brows, smirking with a look of mischief written all over his face, and then kissed you in such an unnecessarily passionate way that had you internally keening when he broke away. That gave you an initial idea that he would, indeed, do some funny business. If you were honest to yourself, you wouldn't have really minded that at all.

That was thirty minutes ago. Jungkook surprisingly hasn't tried to touch you at all for the past thirty minutes. In the present, he is just sprawled on your bed watching something on your stupid iPad, airpods plugged in both ears, letting you work in peace on your laptop.

Thirty minutes ago, that would've been fine. Because ultimately, you could focus on your essay and finish it then pass it way before the deadline but no, your problem right this moment does not lie on phonology, it lies on why does Jungkook have to lean his back on the headboard, thick eyebrows meeting each other every now and then as he watched his movies, and put that white t-shirt and grey sweatpants on himself?

You've been having an internal battle with yourself trying to fight the urge to look over your shoulders for him every three damn minutes, groaning quietly as you thought about how Jungkook looked so ridiculously hot doing the bare minimum. Literally nothing. He was doing absolutely nothing. And he was making you feel weird in your belly!

Wait. Is it your period? It ended two weeks ago, though, so that is definitely not that. Maybe you are ovulating? You'd have to check your flow app.

Absent-mindedly, you let out the begrudging moan you've been trying to hide.

"God."

As if alarmed, Jungkook suddenly shoots up and speaks after what felt like centuries.

"You okay? Am I bothering you here?" He said, voice dripping with honey and face full of concern. You got even hornier.

Oh my god. You wanted to cry.

You send him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm fine. And uh, no. You're good."

Jungkook doesn't pry further and goes back to his binge. Meanwhile, you force yourself to think of something.

Another long five minutes later, and you are still halfway done with your essay. The unfinished document only seems to taunt you. So, you let out another sigh, quite quiet this time so you don't make Jungkook think he was being an inconvenience. You made up your mind and just decided to give in to your urges.

You shut your laptop down instead of pressing sleep as you are sure there is no way you can do any more work tonight.

Standing up from your seat, you approach Jungkook on your bed.

He looks up at you the moment you hovered over him, taking his eyes off the iPad. When the mattress dips from your weight, Jungkook's lips stretch into a cute smile.

Your horniness dissipates a little over his adorable face.

"Done?" He asks, lifting a hand over your face to tuck a strand of hair away that you didn't even notice. You shake your head. Jungkook leans down to kiss your cheek. "So, tired?"

You scrunch your nose. "Kinda."

He kisses your mouth when a pout forms there.

"Eaten anything yet?" Jungkook scoots over to the side to make room on the bed for you. You fit yourself in the space, albeit tight (this was a dorm room, alright), and Jungkook is quick to slide his arm under your neck while he still holds the iPad on the other.

"Just reheated some leftover pasta from last night." You cringe over your last meal. It didn't taste good at all but you were way too hungry and delivery took forever to your dorm.

Jungkook seems to know that that pasta was shit, but he doesn't comment on that. Just hums and kisses the side of your head.

Ugh.

"Wanna order something in? Thai?" He suggests, looking at you.

But right now, eating Thai or whatever is the last thing on your mind. Though you would like to eat something else.

You tell him so. Except the last part, of course. Please. You have decorum.

"Uhm, no. I think I'll pass on that. Unless you haven't eaten." you say, playfully pointing a finger to his chest.

"Nah, Taehyung cooked dinner. I'm pretty full." Jungkook says, chuckling.

You had a smart remark on your tongue, something along the lines of, "Then why'd you offer to eat if you already have, weirdo" but to be honest with yourself, you already knew why. Jungkook liked seeing you eat. Dude practically buys most of your meals, now that you think about it.

But your still horny-adled brain went to go and tell your hand to search for his bare stomach under his shirt. And so it did. Forget about having decorum, shame is out the door when you press your palm to the flat surface of his stomach.

"Doesn't feel full at all." You commented, feeling the hard ridges of his abs. You hate them right now. But you would also really, really, like to see them.

Jungkook only chuckles at that. Before he can say anything, you ask him, "Hey, quick question."

"Hm?"

"Can I suck your dick?"

"Huh?" Jungkook, ever the man he is, put the iPad away for the first time since he's been here. Confused, but still, you could not have mistaken the look of pure interest in his face the moment you asked him that.

"I want to suck your dick, if you let me." You say, clearing yourself up. You are putting on a brave face, but internally, you are screaming.

So what if this thing between you has been happening for like… ten months now, almost a year? Jungkook was usually the one to always initiate sex and blowjobs were almost a rare occurrence in your sex life because you told him it hurt your knees but the real reason was because you didn't think you were very good at it. Jungkook never asks for it either, and sometimes you feel bad for only reciprocating handjobs during oral sex quickies but! He never says anything about it so maybe that was fine? Anyway, it's not like this is gonna be your first time sucking him. It's just the first time you initiated with your own words.

"Oh, you're serious?" Jungkook scoots over to his side and lays sideways to prop himself up. "Really?" He has an excited smile on, and you know that because of the way his eyes crinkle.

"Don't make me repeat it." You say pointedly, pushing him a little bit. Jungkook doesn't even budge at the slight attack, only holds your hands in his.

"No, I just… I thought you said no fooling around tonight." He says.

You shrug. "Yeah, well."

You don't expect him to tug you closer to him using his hold on you, and you were thankful you managed to suppress a loud squeal when he laid on his back and caught your whole body on top of his.

"I guess you can't resist my charm, after all." Jungkook says, grabbing a handful of your ass.

"Jungkook, please, you're scaring my lady boner off." You roll your eyes as you adjust yourself on top of him to get more comfortable.

"Take care of my gentleman boner then, baby." He counters and just because of that you avoid the kiss he was about to give you.

"Don't ever say gentleman boner ever again." You pinch his nipple and he let out a laugh at your petty retort. You knew he was sensitive there. But even then, you were starting to feel the growing need concealed under his sweats, and you were set on giving him the blowjob of his life tonight for some reason.

"I have a suggestion to make," Jungkook says suddenly, stopping you from crawling down to his body. You arch your brow at him, he continues, "I don't think we've ever tried sixty-nine, yet, haven't we? Because I also really want to eat you out right now."

"Oh, well, yeah…" you nod. You find yourself heating up at the way he casually tells you the last part.

"So…?"

You haven't really tried that either, and not just with him, but also with your other sex partners that only really summed up to less than four people, and that's including Jungkook. Anyway, the sixty-nine position sounded interesting.

"Okay, sure." You shrug.

"Fuck, you're the best."

This time, you give in to the kiss he gives you and pretty much after that it turns into a heavy make-out session with Jungkook fondling your boobs underneath your overused highschool PE shirt while you ground down against his erection that only kept growing harder as seconds passed.

You are panting when you break away, a string of saliva in between your lips, breathing for some air. Jungkook kisses his way down your neck, suckling on your skin and soothing it with his tongue.

"Take your shirt off," you say, already impatiently tugging at the hem of his clothing.

Without a word, Jungkook frees himself from the fabric. "You too, and your panties. Please."

You chuckle at the "please" but nonetheless straddle him to take your shirt off. Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes, massaging the bare skin of your waist as you wriggle your hair out of the neckline. He grips your waist as you lift your bum off his stomach, pulling your panties and shorts down in one go one leg to another.

"Shit," Jungkook hissed at the sight of your glistening pussy that has gotten wet overtime, hands roaming all over your body like he doesn't really know where to touch. Always fascinated and in awe with what you show him, always so eager, so touchy. And you always love his undivided attention. Makes you feel like a princess for some reason. Doesn't help that he calls you that sometimes, too.

"Oh, fuuck," he groaned when you sat on his stomach. You couldn't help but let out a quiet moan, too, feeling his hot skin and your cold pussy touching together. "Angel, fuck, come here, let me kiss you."

You lean down to kiss him and he quickly reciprocates, his tongue entering your parted mouth, swirling and licking inside, taking your breath away. You could feel yourself smearing your wet mess on his abs but you couldn't really care less, not when Jungkook looked like he couldn't, too, squeezing every inch of you he could get his hands on. And they were everywhere, alright. Your breasts, your waist, hips, ass, his thumb on the inside of your thighs, all the while kissing you like he was hungry for it.

Jungkook jostles you a little when he lifts himself up a little to slide down the grey sweatpants you have a love and hate relationship with, his dick shooting up his abdomen and touching your ass as a result.

He stops kissing you.

"Alright, one more minute of you grinding against me will make me nut. Sit on my face now, baby."

Blood shoots up your cheeks, making you feel hot. A little funny, given what you are doing right now. But he can't just be so casual about it! He was asking you to sit on his face like he was telling you the grass is green. Regardless, you kiss him one last time.

"Don't suffocate." You warned him, already reversing your position as easily as you can so that your back is facing him.

You hear Jungkook chuckling from behind. "Please, I'll die happily suffocating in this pussy."

"Please don't talk about dying." You deflect, already feeling so shy about the whole thing. Indeed it was your first time to try this position, and you quite didn't know how to act. You wonder if he's done this already in the past, but found yourself irritated at the thought of him doing this with anybody else. You'd have to assess what that feeling of irritation means later.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums, grabbing the globes of your ass and fondling them before you could even properly place your knees on both sides of his head. With his hold on the flesh, he pulls you closer to him until you feel his breath on your core. "Ah, shit, will never get tired of this pussy, baby. Fuck, you're so wet."

You try to focus your attention on his hard dick against his stomach, veiny and rigid, red at the tip and shining with pre-cum. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you lean down a little more so that you can begin teasing him.

But Jungkook beats you down to it as he licks a long stripe across your pussy. It has you keening and stumbling a little over, feeling so good at the contact of his tongue against your sex. You hear him hiss before he says, "Come on, pretty, sit on my face, don't hover."

You hesitate before giving in, and Jungkook is quick to continue the ministrations of his tongue on your pussy. The position was so new to you but you couldn't help but think it was so good, feeling him this way, albeit still a little conscious about cutting off his air supply. But as Jungkook starts licking and sucking, you remember his cock in your hand and it prompts you to stroke him up and down; slow, because your mind is cloudy from the way you could hear the slick of your pussy from Jungkook's licking.

Leaning down, you kiss the head of his cock, licking his pre-cum off the top. There was Jungkook's groan again, and you thought that was a good sign, then continued to suck his tip a little just to see it getting even redder.

Jungkook suddenly gets more aggressive in the ministrations of his tongue, from his slow yet precise strokes, he starts increasing speed, fingers getting tighter on your asscheeks, the tip of his tongue prodding at your entrance giving you a taste of being full.

It prompted you to whimper, Jungkook only humming, seemingly pleased with himself. Letting out a shaky breath, you resume stroking his cock, twisting your fingers around the base. Soon, you lean even closer so that you can wrap your lips around the head.

Jungkook's groan was a pure sinful sound of pleasure as you did so. Nevermind that he was having his own feast on your pussy, you were determined to make him cum. And to do that was to suck on the tip gently at first, swirling your tongue on the cum that's building up on it. You joined the motion of it with your hand stroking the shaft up and down, cheeks hollowed and sucking the air in your mouth to create a suction that has Jungkook slightly jolting in his position.

"Oh, fuck yeah, baby, that's it, you're so good at this… shit," He says behind you, moving his mouth off your pussy and replacing it with two fingers. Jungkook slides them in easily, the squelching sound so apparent it cannot be mistaken for anything else if there was anybody but you two in the room. "You like this, baby? Hm? You're taking my fingers and my cock so well."

You moaned around his cock, heat starting to spread all over your body as Jungkook began to join his digits with his own mouth, devouring your pussy like he always does when he goes down. You start losing your rhythm on his cock, choking on it a third time now as you haven't really managed to fit it all in your mouth. You've always tried to, but he's always been a little too big for you. If it was a skill issue, you didn't care, Jungkook enjoys it just as much as you do.

When Jungkook rubs your clit, that's when you start shaking on your knees, threatening to crumble down.

As if he knew what was coming, Jungkook suddenly says, "Don't come yet, baby, not now." and you swear you would have actually cried.

What you didn't expect is Jungkook suddenly sitting up, his hands gripping your hips so that you don't jostle on top of him. You let go of his dick as he slides you off his body, and you let him manhandle you into sitting on his cock that slides in too easily like your pussy was fine silk. You now sit on top of him in what seems to be like a reverse cowgirl position, except that you aren't the one in control of your own movements.

"Oh, K-kook – Jungkook!" you yelped as he bounced you on his rigid dick, your body melting against his.

"Shh, take my cock, angel. You can do that for me, right? You're so pretty right now, I wish you could see yourself." Jungkook whispers against your hair, and you pathetically nod, craning your neck up at him to seek for his mouth. He smiles at you, the gentle nature of it so contrasting to the way he was controlling your hips, bouncing you in and out of his cock. "My pretty little angel."

He kisses you passionately, and as seconds passed his hands began to travel upwards to cup your breast, fondling it in his hand and pinching your nipple. You also started to initiate your pwn movements, meeting Jungkook's thrusts from below you, all the whole moaning in his mouth at the pleasure of his cock touching every crevice of your pussy.

The feeling of this never gets old even if you've done it exclusively and quite constantly with each other for the past ten months. Sex with Jungkook is always just so intense it always keeps you on your toes.

"K-kook, I'm cumming," you gasped in his mouth, feeling that build up in your belly

"Hm," Jungkook leaves your boob in favor of your pussy. Kissing you one last time on the mouth, he leans against your shoulder to watch as he spreads your nether lips. You look down to his hand there, fingers spreading the lips apart witnessing your own hole getting split open by his engorged cock. The sight was so lewd and obscene you couldn't help your moan. Then, Jungkook begins rubbing your clit again, fast and with a purpose, this time to make you finish. And he finally gives you the green light to do so. "You can cum now, baby."

And as if prompted by his simple words, you came, feeling a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy. You watch the way Jungkook kept his fingers in there, massaging your hole and kissing your neck.

"Jungkook…" you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you come down from your high, pussy throbbing and spasming from the intense feeling of cumming. He did edge you from when he ate you out.

"Good girl."

And again, Jungkook changes your position. From sitting up, you are now laid against the bed again, with him switching your positions so now he's the one hovering and you underneath him. He grabs your hips up and enters your pussy once again, sliding his cock in and out to chase his own orgasm. Your moans only encourage him to go faster, his grunts filling the room.

"Oh, that's it, Kook, you come for me too." You say, reaching for his stomach with one hand and fondling your own boob with other for his own consumption. Jungkook always liked seeing you play with them.

"Yeah, you're so sexy like that," he says, even picking up his speed higher.

Soon, he was cumming with a pained groan, and you didn't expect to cum a second time the same time he did.

Another gush of slickness slides down your pussy while Jungkook pulled out completely. But he was putting it in again a second later, rubbing his dick against your core. You sigh, partly at the sensitivity but also how pleasurable it all still felt even though you've come twice now in the span of almost what? – thirty minutes? Maybe an hour?

"Pretty fucking pussy you've got here, baby," Jungkook says before pushing his cum back into you, making you cry out. "Never gonna get enough of this. Of you."

You whimpered, clinging to his forearms as he continued his actions.

"Cum for me one more time?" He asks, staring deeply into your eyes.

And you couldn't possibly do that. Coming twice was not at all what you envisioned your night to be, thrice was a heart attack. But at the same time, you couldn't really resist his pleading eyes and his deep voice and his still hard cock pushing his creampie deeper into you.

So you nod your head, and Jungkook leans down to swipe the strand of hairs that sprouted all over your face overtime, wet on the hairline from your sweat, just before he slides his cock all the way in again, repeating that in and out routine, the slamming and the bottoming out, the quickening oh his pace and your toes curling once again that impeded your orgasm for the third time that night.

When you finished, exhausted and spent the fuck out, Jungkook laid on your boobs and kissed all over, playing with one of your nipples in his other hand. You were flat on the bed, dead weight, looking up at the ceiling and closing your eyes to cool yourself from what had just happened.

"Okay, that's enough, Kook, we gotta clean up." You say, massaging the soft curls on the top of his head.

He only let out a non-committal hum.

"Jungkook."

"Yes, baby?"

"Enough sex. I'm fried." You say, pulling his hair slightly to make him look up at you. But that was a bad decision of course 'cause he only seemed to enjoy the teasing.

"Just saying hello to these amazing boobs of yours." You rolled your eyes at his retort, nonetheless accepting it.

"Thanks, I guess."

Eventually, Jungkook stopped being clingy and finally found the will to fetch a wet rag from the bathroom. He cleaned you up and and you didn't bother dressing up except the panties you asked him to get for you. Soon after that, you cuddle together in bed.

"Hey," Jungkook suddenly whispers behind you, fingers massaging your hip, mouth press to your head. You hum. "I think we should do that more."

You try to look over your shoulder. "What? The sex?" you say, chuckling.

Jungkook pinches your hip. "Yeah, I told you we should have sex everyday. But that's not the point, I meant the sixty-nine."

"Well, first of all, having sex everyday is physically not possible," you roll your eyes though he couldn't see. "Second, I enjoyed that position, too. A little bit distracting, but definitely really enjoyable."

Jungkook agrees. "I think you just gave me the best blowjob of my life, if you wanna know."

"Really?" you confirmed, smiling up at him.

"Almost nutted when you sucked my head."

You chuckle, slapping his chest and roll your eyes again for how many times now?

"No but seriously…" Jungkook suddenly turns, indeed, serious. But he's still smiling, though, just a little less playful with his tone. "What was with you tonight? Did you finish that essay?"

Oh god, your essay. Right.

You feel your cheeks heat up a little remembering how you were basically thirsting over him him a while ago. And for no reason too.

Despite cringing internally, you shrug. "No, not really, but submission's two days from now and I just wanted to kiss you, I guess."

That made Jungkook's smile even bigger. He doesn't say anything more but only scoots even closer to your neck, kissing your hair.

"Hm, I always wanna kiss you too, and I do. But I love it when you ask for it."

You think you'll start doing it more, too.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #jungkook drabble #boyfriend jungkook #fic: cn&bl #cnbl: extras #cnbl drabbles

1K notes · View notes

h1biscusgal · 2 months ago

Text

asks in a bundle bc im tired- PART 1

so, good question, hypnagogic is BEFORE sleep, dreaming is DURING sleep, two very different things, dreaming is not tethered to the body, it's actually purely the mind NOT AWAKE, ONLY ENTERS A BRAIN STATE WHERE IT PRODUCES DREAMING, hypnagogic is ABOUT to lose it's awareness to the body (the process of entering the void if aware, and sleep if not aware), but dreaming is more like you move and such, yk? but the Hypnagogia is where you are laid down, won't move, seen flashing lights and imagery that is NOT identifiable. in the hypnagogia it's more like random shapes and imagery, yk?

NAH ML IT ISN'T, IT'S JUST A PIC I FOUND IN PINTEREST. T.T

ml don't ever LET one comment dictate ur life, assumptions create you, when i listen to subs and see ppl complaining they didn't get results, i go past it and act like it's does not concern me, and guess what? i still get results, it's not about "oh im scared it'll happen to me!"

nah ml, simply trust, and ofc i am not forcing anyone to listen to my sub! it was something i just made to help some of those with problems.

yes

OFCCCC, usually it's literally up to you, but i have some ideas here and each can choose, btw, the zones don't dictate your job at all ml.

here's a link of one of my fave old bloggers i adore them sm, here, credits all to her btw

i am so sorry but i did not understand A SHIT-, but i translated it for myself and let's see.

OK SO I TRANSLATED IT, FIRST, OFC MY LOVE U CAN BE MY ANON, AND YES OFC YOU CAN TELL ME UR EXPERIENCES, and yes ofc, it is supposed to feel like your body is separating, that's the whole point ml.

when u change ur grades? it is changed EVERYWHERE

like seriously ive manifested it, it's SO TRIPPY, like i felt i'd get 40 smth on 60 then i go back and see it's fucking 60/60 which is a 100 in my country :D

literally one thing.

identify with the reality that you got a high grade, THATS ALL, like BEEEEE the version that already had the grades, yk?

there is no "it doesn't manifest", literally none, if i managed to change my grades in a day then u DEF can.

simply identify you have it.

ITS OKAYYYY ML, so, to keep awake during an awake method (YOU CAN TRY SLEEP METHODDDDDSSS-)

leave my alter ego alone she likes to yell "use sleeping methods."

anyways! try coffee or an apple beforehand? someone said an energy drink, you could also try during naptimes? daytimes? when you just wake up? AND GOOD LUCK IM PROUD OF U

FUCK THE THOUGHT AND YEET IT OUT OF UR BRAIN, LITERALLY BULLY THAT NAGGING THOUGHT, LIKE SAY:

"NUH UH U DUMB BITCH GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY MIND NUH UH AINT HAPPENING I ALREADY HAVE A 95"

so sorry i acted up- ANYWAYS IT EASY ML, BANISH it, like literally BANISH it, throw it out and burn it-

ok so, in short, having that thought? "so what, bye, off u go"

I SWEAR I MISSED YALL EVEN MORE UGH

FUCK YEAH, remember, you're not "creating", you're simply deciding to live in a version of you that already was friends with that group and these people existed in the first place ofc. MWAH

PLEASE IM ROLLING- NO ML ITS OKAY I UNDERSTAND U ML.

okay first.

if so then lock me up rn first person bc this means that i am seeing things and did not manifest my 100 percent grades, growing taller, healthier hair, my desired body, etc etc.

my love seriously NO- WHAT DO U MEAN NOTHING IS REAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL, it is, when you manifest it, you seriously did it, you can't say "OH I HAVE THIS" and it doesn't show up, you change your version, not the "reality" like you be cooking up some shit.

it's not:

OH I WANNA HAVE A CAR, LETS CREATE A REALITY I HAD A CAR,

it goes like this:

OH I WANNA HAVE A CAR, LETS BE THE VERSION THAT I HAVE THE CAR.

(im not mad at u ofc that's me acting up)

seriously those who manifested rn are THRIVING without the need of therapy or whatnot, and let me tell you, the first thing that LOA and those shifting things taught us? is to love yourself.

YES OF COURSE??????? IT WON'T BE DIFFERENT WHEN YOU PUT IT, seriously nothing will go the other way when you don't want it to go different.

DARL U SOUND LIKE ME I ALSO HAVE THEM EXAMS AT 1ST JUNE.

so, let's see, scared?

talk with yourself, sit yourself down and literally talk to the air if you like why is it that you're scared, why? go to the root and eliminate it, gently remind urself.

"but i already know i can, so why? these people who panic don't know the law, but i do!"

see? be gentle, fear is not something to push, don't EVER push fear away, simply PRY it away.

"never properly tried for the void."

"i want my life now."

THEN USE IT AND ENTER???????????

guys please, i love you all so so much like even more than myself but PUH-LEASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSE.

my darling you said you know it's real so you don't doubt it.

you tried 10k aff challenges.

you did this you did that.

and you want your life.

see the problem? you don't say "i have my life."

you say "i WANT my life." want what? be the version that has your life, void or not, i swear it's a click of a finger.

NAH IT'S NOT A GROUP SHIFT DATE (YET) BUT GO AHEAD ML, IT'S CALLED SHIFTING DARLING, pick a method of shifting, and set the intention to shift there, if you have questions of shifting search it up!

OKAY SO.

ts stuff is actually so powerful y'all, but first nope, no "wrong" thing will happen bc the creator himself said he added safety affs, he just put the warning there not for doing something wrong, he meant dont purposely use it for something bad bc it is highly suggestable, but i can understand, and rest assured, it's not going to implant it in the mind, simply listen to it once, then play your sub overnight or once before bed, DW MY LOVE IT'S SAFE, I'VE TRIED IT,

BUTTTTTTTTTTTT, of course i understand if you still feel uncomfortable, i for once may not continue to use it, it is too powerful for me and i could not sleep at all, switch it out with a regular booster, if u want! or simply use isochronic tones beforehand.

I ADORE AND LOVE U MORE OMGWYUEKRMLWHIGFRTYHNJW MWAH MWAH MWAH

SIT DOWN, AND SEE THE ROOT OF THE PROBLEM.

guys really, it's okay to feel like there's a block in your way, gently sit down and talk it out with yourself, you'll see what is in the way, and once you see it, simply work to take it off, done!

OH MY GOD MY MOOT? IWOIQDHEURGFVUEJQIWO YALL THAT'S MY BABY LOOK AT HER OMG WIOUEREJIWKOQPEHFGEI I WANNA GIGGLE.

I KNOW U CAN DO IT SO BAD OMG, MY ASK / INBOX IS OPEN FOR UR SUCCESS OMG.

STOP I'M GIGGLING TEE HEE QUWGYEWQJIIEHIRGWEIHJQ, MWAH MWAH MWAH EXACTLY LIKE SEEING PPL LIKE THIS GOING BACK TO THEIR ROOTS MAKES ME SO HAPYYYYYYYYYYYY

that's actually a good one! i promise to do it when i entered, thanks anon!

yessss, these are all possible according to UR BELIEFSSSSS, and my love i seriously understand you, don't worry ml i get u.

yup. back it up with belief.

OMG YEESSSS I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET EVERYONE THERE.

nah do whatever u want ml, mix both if u want!

im sorry waht.

OKAY SO I LAUGHED, HOPE U ENTER SOON DW, lets see, veg but wanna eat non veg...? i am so sorry i cannot say anything that maybe could offend a certain religion, i myself eat meat and i do not feel bad about it, but it is different for everyone of course! i cannot say about this, sorry.

YESSS PERFECTLY GOOD TOO.

last hope? darl nothing should be ur last "hope"

there is no "hope", only certainty, you ARE doing everything right, simply back it up with BELIEFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF in yourself, you are the method yourself.

okay so, this sounds like the hypnagogic/into void type of state, yknow? the whole symptoms you said is actually a sign it is ENTERING the void, not really FULLY in the void yet, in it you should only feel calmness, and pure peace, no heartbeat, not one feeling of "flying", you'll just feel formless.

wtf tumblr is not letting me post more pics, anyways here is the last remaining ppl:

"anon:

okay so please tell me if I might have shifted or if I'm just going crazy

so bathroom rods. random, I know. but we're getting a new house and we bought some for our bathrooms. however, my dad happened to buy some extras and neither he nor my mom could figure out why. then I told them that we'd discussed having extra rods outside the shower area to hang our dry clothes to change into. BOTH MY PARENTS DONT REMEMBER HAVING THAT CONVO. EVER. this is actually so insane to me like??"

that's shifting!

"anon:

genuine question how do I do an asleep method because I do NOT want to get up for school tomorrow I’d rather live in a castle"

THERE IS THOUSANDDDDDDDS, sleep and have pure belief, or by a subliminal, so any shifting sleep method, do sats, do hypnagogia, there's endless things.

oh my god that was a lot-

#manifesting #reality shifting #shiftblr #loa tumblr #loassumption #law of assumption #law of manifestation #loa blog #void state #coco's answers

87 notes · View notes

mochinomnoms · 1 year ago

Note

Idea: Yuu gets caught up in some circumstances involving Floyd and mates with him. Fully expecting rough ✨️fun✨️. Waiting to stop him for hurting them. Never does. Floyd starts with pleasuring his soon-to-be-mate, preparing them, and THEN penetrates. Catches them off guard, but they love it.

Cut to the next morning. Floyd panics 'cause oh shit, goes, "well, I'm not gonna be a bad mate, so I have other things to do!" (Internally), makes Yuu breakfast, is super gentle. They're stunned, because isn't Floyd the rough one? Not with them!

They go to class and get in a fight with Ace (didn't sleep well) who slaps them on the way to lunch and goes to the infirmary with a crushed windpipe. Ace is fine, and Yuu realizes Floyd is very protective. Cue human falling for moray head over heels.

Ta-da! Power couple.

-nightshade anon

Aaa! So cute!! Floyd has always been known to be rough, both above and under the sea. But once someone has taken his interest, especially as a potential mate, there's an obvious change. Not a personality change, he's still as Floyd as ever. But the morning after reveals a much softer side to him.

He's offering you a sweet breakfast, which was confusing as you expected him to kinda…yeet out. He keeps talking about mating, the irony of you being his Shrimpy, and handing a protective arm over you as you ate in bed. It's a surprise, and it continues as you two head off to class later on. He's still handing a protective arm over you, other students giving you two a wide berth to walk through the hallways.

When Floyd sees you off, Jade comes by to walk to class with his brother, he makes an offhanded comment about Floyd being a rather protective mate. It doesn't really click with you until later, when you and Ace are arguing, with him smacking the top of your head.

It was meant to be playful. It was meant to be a gesture between bickering friends.

So Floyd's had coming up behind Ace, grabbing his hand and squeezing until you hear a crunch, was a horrifying surprise. Floyd's confused himself when you're frantically yelling at him for hurting your friend, rushing Ace over to the infirmary as Floyd follows, calling out about how “It's my job to protect my mate! He hit you! That's not allowed!”

Ace, ultimately, is fine. One of the benefits of magical worlds is that things like broken bones are relatively easy to fix. Ace will have to wear a cast for a few days, just to give the magic some time to heal his bones back into place. And he's pissed at Floyd, but also at you for not mentioning that you mated with the stupidly tall merman.

He has to explain, “I heard merfolk are super overprotective with their mates, they'll get into all sorts of fights for them. Man, if I'd known you were with Floyd like that, I'd have never smacked you.”

So you have an eel bodyguard of a boyfriend? You can't deny that the thought makes you a little warm. Floyd, being so soft to you, and only you, while he roughhoused with everyone else. You should run to Floyd to shower him with affections. He's still pretty pouty about you yelling at him.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #nightshade anon

639 notes · View notes

sweetvoidstuff · 4 months ago

Text

Game, Set, Match

Summary: What starts as a lighthearted Mario Kart tournament at your party takes an unexpected turn when Jungkook—undefeated champion and effortlessly cool—ends up losing a bet to you.

Masterlist

Wordcount: ~4400

The party hums with a comfortable warmth, the kind that settles deep in your bones after a few drinks and good company. Laughter spills from the kitchen, where Jin and Namjoon are locked in a debate about whether a burrito counts as a sandwich. The scent of popcorn and something vaguely sweet lingers in the air, mixing with the faint trace of someone’s expensive cologne. The apartment isn’t overly big, but it feels alive—people leaning against countertops, sprawled across the couch, legs tangled over armrests and coffee tables as they settle into easy conversations.

You're perched on the arm of the couch, cradling your drink, one knee tucked up as you talk with Hoseok. He’s always been one of the most animated people in any room, his laughter infectious, his gestures big and full of life.

It started with small talk—how Jin had somehow managed to destroy a blender last week.

"How does he melt a blender?" "We still don’t know."

But then, somewhere between one sip and the next, the conversation shifted to video games. In a moment of honesty (and possibly, slight tipsiness), you admitted something that had Hoseok howling with laughter.

"I'm serious, Hobi," you whine, lightly slapping his arm. "I am so bad at Mario Kart. Like, I think I might be the worst player to ever exist."

Hoseok howls with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. "No way, no way. I've seen some pretty terrible players. But—" He squints at you playfully. "You do have that kind of ‘press the wrong button at the worst moment’ energy."

You gasp, placing a hand over your chest in mock offense. "Rude!"

"Wait!" He holds up a finger, grinning “Are we talking bad as in ‘occasionally forgets to drift’ bad, or bad as in ‘drives off the track every five seconds’ bad?"

You groan. "Hobi, I’m talking ‘Forget which character I’m playing as and drive into a wall for thirty seconds before realizing' bad. ‘Get stuck in a corner and not know how to reverse’ bad. ‘Use a mushroom boost at the exact worst possible moment and yeet myself into a pit’ bad."

Hoseok practically wheezes. "Oh my God. That’s painful."

"I know!"

Then, his eyes gleam with mischief. He cackles, nearly doubling over. "Okay, okay—wait. I have an idea."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh no."

"No, hear me out!" He’s practically vibrating with excitement. "We should test this. Like, scientifically. We should hold a Worst Mario Kart Player Tournament and find out once and for all who the absolute worst player is."

You blink.

Then, slowly, you grin.

"Hobi, that’s… that’s actually brilliant."

And just like that, the idea takes hold, growing legs of its own. People overhear and chime in. Taehyung calls dibs on the controller with the drift issues, swearing he can feel when a game has bad karma. Jimin, already perched cross-legged on the floor, claims he’s “not that bad” but is fully prepared to throw Namjoon under the bus as the worst player. Jin—forever chaotic—claps his hands and announces that there will be penalties for the worst of the worst.

But as things move toward setting up a place and a time, your eyes drift across the room—toward him.

Jungkook.

He’s lounging near the coffee table, looking effortlessly relaxed as he sips from a beer bottle. His hoodie is slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his tattooed arm. He laughs at something Yoongi says, the sound low and warm, and something in your chest tightens.

You shouldn’t be watching him.

It also didn’t help that you had a crush on the guy.

But you are.

Yet somehow, he catches you looking.

And he smirks.

You quickly look away, heat creeping up your neck, and focus on the plan instead.

XXX

Tournament Night

Your living room is an absolute disaster zone.

Snack bags, soda cans, and beer bottles litter every surface. The coffee table is buried under a mountain of chips and candy. Your TV screen glows with the unmistakable, cheerful chaos of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.

Around you, the contestants lounge in various states of confidence. An elite lineup of players who are proudly terrible.

People settle in—Jin is dramatically sipping a drink, already claiming that if he loses, it’s because "the game is rigged." Namjoon is nodding sagely, despite admitting that he hasn’t played in years. Taehyung is half-sprawled on the floor, watching the screen with lazy amusement. Jimin scrolls through his phone, casually leaning against Yoongi—who watches with mild amusement, nursing a drink.

You clear your throat, standing in front of the group. Controllers are handed out like weapons before a battle

"Okay," you announce, pointing at the assembled group. "Alright, listen up! This is the Worst Mario Kart Player Tournament. The goal? To figure out who is the absolute worst at this game. If you are even remotely good at Mario Kart, you are disqualified."

Jin, reclining dramatically on the couch, sighs. "Finally, a tournament made for me."

"I can’t tell if that’s sad or impressive," Namjoon says, shaking his head.

"Both," Yoongi mutters, already lying back with a controller in hand.

Taehyung raises a hand. "What if I occasionally get second place?"

"Out."

Jimin snickers. "What if I always lose, but it’s because I’m playing with one hand while texting?"

"Acceptable."

Yoongi lifts his head. "What if I’ve never played before?"

"Perfect," you declare, writing his name down.

You’ve gathered a solid lineup of contenders, each boasting about how terrible they are. Everything is set. You’re already hyped. Only Hoseok is missing, but then he walks in with a plus-one.

And it’s Jungkook.

Jungkook, who strolls in with his hands in his hoodie pockets, eyes scanning the room with mild amusement. Jungkook, whose name you have definitely heard whispered in hushed tones when it comes to Mario Kart.

Your stomach drops.

You narrow your eyes at Hoseok. "Hobi."

Hoseok grins, entirely unrepentant. "What?"

You give him a look before turning to Jungkook, who’s standing in the doorway, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie. He looks amused, glancing around at the setup before raising an eyebrow at you.

Jungkook chuckles, settling onto the couch. "So... what exactly am I walking into?"

You cross your arms. "A tournament for the worst players. Which means you—no offense—should not be here."

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning innocence. "Who says I’m good?"

"Oh, I know you’re good," you deadpan. "I’ve heard the stories. You're basically a Mario Kart god."

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Jungkook here. Jimin and Taehyung both could be decent players, but Jungkook was in a totally different league. It also didn’t help that you didn’t want to embarrass yourself more than necessary.

Hoseok chimes in, grinning. "C’mon, just let him play! It'll be fun!"

"Fun for who?" you mutter under your breath, already dreading the inevitable humiliation.

Jungkook shrugs, reaching for a controller. He’s settled on the floor near the coffee table, one arm resting on his knee as he watches the screen with an easy confidence that makes your stomach flip. He’s dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, but somehow still manages to look unfairly good. His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, and every so often, he runs a hand through it absentmindedly. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up, revealing the ink on his arm.

You are watching him – again.

Because Jungkook—competitive, effortlessly talented, devastatingly attractive Jungkook—is also insanely good at Mario Kart.

"I’ll go easy on you guys."

Spoiler alert:

He does not go easy.

XXX

The tournament begins.

And it is chaos. It’s a train wreck from the start.

Jin, who insisted on playing Peach, screams dramatically whenever his kart spins out and somehow manages to fall off the same track three times in a row. Namjoon keeps ramming into walls like he’s personally offended by them, while muttering something about "bad steering mechanics." Taehyung is laughing so hard he can’t even steer properly. Jimin and Hoseok are actively throwing the game just to see if they can out-lose each other.

And then there’s Yoongi.

Who, true to his word, has never played before.

At one point, his character is just driving straight into a wall. No reversing. No attempt to fix it. Just… endlessly pushing against a corner.

Yoongi, who genuinely has no idea what he’s doing, has somehow managed to drive backward for an entire lap without realizing. "Wait," he mutters, squinting at the screen. "Why am I still on lap two?"

"BECAUSE YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!" the entire room yells in unison.

Hoseok is practically in tears at this point. "I swear to God, I have never seen anything this bad in my life."

Meanwhile, Jungkook—your unexpected guest of honor—leans comfortably against the couch, his controller held loosely in his hands. He’s effortlessly weaving through every obstacle, drifting like a pro, dodging red shells like they’re beneath him. While everyone else is in absolute shambles, Jungkook is so far ahead that he might as well be playing a different game.

And the worst part? He isn’t even trying.

It’s a massacre.

The moment the race ends (Jungkook: 1st place. Everyone else: a mess), Jin slams his controller down. "This is so unfair," he groans. "He's not even breaking a sweat!"

Jungkook leans back, smirking. "What can I say? It’s muscle memory at this point."

"Can you, like, turn your skill level down?" Taehyung asks.

Jungkook pretends to consider it. "Hmm. I told you I’d go easy."

"You sandbagging liar," Jin accuses.

"You have cheat codes built into your brain," Jimin whines.

"Bro," Taehyung groans. "You lapped us. That’s not easy."

Jungkook just laughs, all doe-eyed innocence and zero regret.

The next match is even more chaotic. Jin is yelling about how Peach deserves better. Namjoon, deep in concentration, is still ramming into every possible wall. He mutters something about “unrealistic steering mechanics,” even as his kart gets stuck in a corner for the third time. Taehyung has somehow found a way to sabotage himself and still look like he's having the time of his life. Hoseok and Jimin are loudly conspiring against each other, and Yoongi? Well, Yoongi is once again stuck in a corner, looking like he’s contemplating life choices.

Then Jin, ever the dramatic one, slams his drink down. "Alright! Loser of this round has to chug a mystery drink of our choosing."

"Absolutely not," Namjoon says immediately, shaking his head.

Hoseok, already grinning, shakes his head. "Too late, it’s happening."

Jungkook perks up. "Oh let’s make a bet!"

The room groans in unison.

"No," Taehyung says firmly. "You’re too good. You’re banned from bets."

Jungkook blinks. "What? Why?"

"Because it’s not fair," Jimin argues. "You’d never have to do a punishment."

Jungkook crosses his arms, looking genuinely offended. "This is discrimination."

"You’ll live," you tease, nudging him playfully.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, feigning exasperation—but when he looks at you – bickering with his friends about penalties and bets, there’s something else in his gaze. A flicker of something mischievous, something playful. He wants to be part of the ridiculous fun, to be included in the messiness. He wants to lose just once, if only to be in on the joke. For the first time tonight, he doesn’t want to be the best.

Instead, he wants to be in the game with you.

The next round starts, and you are locked in a vicious battle with Jimin for seventh place.

"Move, Jimin!"

"You move!"

Seeing no other choice, you actually kick him.

"OW!" Jimin yelps, jerking sideways. His character immediately veers off course, tumbling into the abyss.

"Did you just—" Jungkook stares at you, scandalized. "Did you just physically assault him for an advantage?!"

You shrug. "It’s called strategy."

Jimin groans. "I’m pressing charges."

"Don’t be dramatic."

Jungkook lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re ruthless."

Your stomach flips.

As the night continues, Jungkook keeps trying to throw matches, but his muscle memory betrays him. Even when he goes easy, he’s still effortlessly clearing laps ahead of everyone else. It frustrates him in the most amusing way.

At one point, he leans toward you, voice lower, more conspiratorial. "What if I fake a loss?"

You snort, giving him a side glance. "You? Purposely losing? I highly doubt you’re capable of that."

Jungkook grins. "Think I need an incentive?"

You pause mid-button press, the weight of his words settling in. The way he’s looking at you—mischievous, daring, and maybe a little flirty—sends warmth curling through you.

"What kind of incentive?" you challenge.

Jungkook tilts his head. "The loser of the next match gets to make the Winner do anything they want."

Your breath hitches. "Anything?"

He smirks. "Anything."

The game starts, but your concentration is completely shot. It’s hard to focus when Jungkook is right next to you, radiating heat, his knee brushing against yours every so often. You’re painfully aware of every glance he sneaks your way, the amused curve of his lips when you miss a drift, the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his controller like he’s barely trying.

And the worst part? He isn’t trying.

You catch him purposefully slowing down at certain turns, missing item boxes he’d normally snipe with pinpoint accuracy. At one point, he even steers himself into a banana peel that was ridiculously easy to avoid.

"You’re not slick," you mumble, nudging him with your elbow as your kart zooms ahead of his.

Jungkook laughs under his breath, unbothered. "What? I’m playing fair."

"Bullshit," you scoff. "You just drove off the map."

"Maybe I just suck," he says with a casual shrug.

You give him an unimpressed look. "Jungkook, you literally lapped Jin and Namjoon earlier. You don’t suck."

Jungkook just grins, completely unrepentant. "Guess I’m having an off-game."

Around the room, the others are deep into their own races, the air filled with a chaotic blend of laughter, shouting, and the occasional smack of a pillow when someone gets hit with a shell. Jin, sitting cross-legged on the couch with an exaggerated pout, is dramatically lamenting his ongoing streak of failures.

"How am I this bad?" he wails as his character spins out yet again.

Namjoon, who has been quietly determined to not be the worst player, nods sympathetically. “It’s okay, hyung. I think I just accidentally threw a banana peel at myself, so you’re not alone.”

Jimin and Taehyung are locked in some sort of personal war, laughing hysterically every time they knock the other off the track. Yoongi, still somehow managing to drive backwards half the race, barely reacts when his character falls into the abyss again.

You steal a glance at Jungkook, pretending to adjust your grip on the controller. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but there’s an unmistakable smirk playing at his lips. He looks completely at ease, his long fingers moving fluidly over the buttons. His hoodie has slipped off one shoulder slightly, revealing a hint of collarbone, and—God, is it hotter in here, or is it just you?

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus on the race.

Jungkook is trying to lose, you remind yourself. He’s letting himself get hit by stray green shells, purposely bumping into walls like a rookie, and even gasping dramatically every time he falls behind. But somehow—somehow—he’s still hovering dangerously close to the front of the pack.

But then, something happens. Something neither of you expected.

You’re having a good round.

A really good round.

For once, you’re not bumping into every wall like you have a personal vendetta against them. You’re hitting drifts at the right time, picking up useful items, not launching yourself off cliffs every ten seconds. You might not be winning—but you’re actually playing well.

And Jungkook notices.

His hands tighten slightly around his controller. His eyes flicker between the game and you, and his grin falters.

Oh no.

He realizes, right then and there, that if he keeps intentionally losing, you might actually beat him.

And Jungkook Jeon does not lose.

Not even for a bet.

Suddenly, he stops messing around. His kart speeds up, taking turns with the precision he’s actually capable of. He starts landing trick jumps, expertly dodging obstacles. It’s not full power Jungkook, but he’s no longer handing you the win on a silver platter.

"Hey—!" You shoot him a look, realizing what he’s doing.

Jungkook just smirks. "Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?"

You grit your teeth, your competitive side kicking in. "Oh, it is so on."

The final lap approaches. It’s a tight race—somehow, you’re in fifth place, a personal record, while Jungkook is naturally in first place. The finish line is in sight.

Then—chaos.

A blue shell whizzes across the screen.

Jungkook barely has time to react before it slams into him, sending his kart flying into the air. The others erupt into cheers and laughter as his character crashes down, losing all momentum.

And then—your moment of glory.

You have a red shell.

With a wicked grin, you release it. Just as Jungkooks character is in third place – just before you.

The shell finds its target immediately—Jungkook, still recovering from the blue shell disaster. His kart spins out again, just meters from the finish line.

Your character zooms past him, securing third place.

Jungkook?

Fourth.

You slam your controller down, victorious. "YES!"

Jungkook blinks at the screen. Then slowly turns to you. "Did you just—"

You smirk. "Looks like you lost."

Hoseok, Jin, and the others lose it. Laughter echoes through the room as everyone reacts to the unexpected outcome.

"NO WAY," Hoseok shouts, clutching his stomach.

Jin wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. "Justice. Finally, he’s been humbled!"

Jungkook, still staring at the results screen, exhales a small laugh. "Guess I did."

But the way he says it—the way his gaze flickers to you, something unreadable behind his eyes—sends a shiver up your spine.

XXX

The rest of the night is filled with more games, more snacks, and an absolutely absurd amount of trash talk.

Jin, determined to prove that his losses were nothing more than “horrific luck and sabotage,” insists on several rematches. Each one ends worse than the last, until finally, he throws down his controller and dramatically flops onto the couch. “I was not meant for this cruel world,” he laments. “How is it possible to hit every banana peel?”

Yoongi, who has been curled into the corner of the couch for at least the past hour, gives a slow blink. "Skill."

Namjoon is muttering something about gaming algorithms, staring at the results like they personally wronged him. “I swear, these things are designed to keep people like me from succeeding. It’s rigged.”

Jimin, having somehow secured the most snacks out of anyone, grins from his perch on the floor. “Hyung, you drove off the track five times. That wasn’t the game. That was you.”

Hoseok cackles, still high on the energy of the night, while Taehyung lounges on the floor, rolling an empty can between his hands. The apartment is a mess—a graveyard of snack wrappers and soda bottles, controllers scattered across the floor, a few blankets abandoned over the arm of the couch. The TV screen still displays the final results, your miraculous third-place finish frozen in time like a trophy.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook is still grinning.

But it’s not the usual, overconfident smirk you’re used to seeing from him—it’s something lighter, something unfiltered. He’s always been the effortlessly cool one, the too good at everything guy. But tonight?

Tonight, he’s comfortable.

There’s something different in the way he moves—loose-limbed and relaxed, at ease in a way you’re not used to seeing. His hair is a little messier, the hoodie slipping slightly off one shoulder as he leans back, beer bottle still in hand. Maybe it’s the warmth of the night, or maybe it’s the fact that—for once—he wasn’t the absolute best at something. But it does something to you, watching him like this.

Something dangerous.

You shove that thought away as the night begins to wind down. One by one, people start saying their goodbyes. Yoongi is half-asleep already, Jin dramatically announcing that his defeat has physically aged him, and Namjoon mumbling something about how he needs to study the mechanics of drift timing. Jimin stretches with a yawn before grabbing his jacket, Taehyung trailing after him with a lazy wave.

Eventually, it’s just you and Jungkook.

And he lingers.

You don’t point it out, but you notice.

He helps gather empty cups and bowls without being asked, stacking them neatly on the counter as the TV screen dims to its new default screensaver—the results of the final game, your third-place finish frozen on display like some kind of cosmic joke.

Jungkook leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you with that signature smirk—except there’s something different about it tonight. Something more deliberate.

“You know,” he finally says, voice light, “I never claimed my win.”

You freeze mid-motion, fingers tightening around an empty soda can. Slowly, you turn to face him.

“…What?”

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning innocence. “The bet?” He shifts his weight, his smirk deepening. “Loser gets to make the winner do anything they want?”

You blink.

Your stomach flips.

“Pretty sure I placed fourth,” he adds, eyes glinting with something unreadable while looking from the screen saver back to you.

You scoff, though your heart is hammering. “You’re seriously calling that in?”

He pushes off the counter, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. The air changes—something warmer, heavier settling between you.

“Wouldn’t you?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. He’s too close now, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of whatever cologne he’s wearing, something woodsy and warm. Your pulse thrums beneath your skin, and it’s almost irritating how effortlessly he affects you.

You try to sound unbothered. “Depends. What exactly are you asking for?”

Tilting his head slightly, “I could ask you to do something ridiculous. Like, I don’t know… make me a five-course meal.”

You let out a breathy laugh, pausing mid-motion as you gather some snack wrappers. “Pretty sure that’s more of a punishment for you.”

His smirk deepens. “Depends. Are you a terrible cook?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ll have you know I make excellent instant ramen.”

Jungkook chuckles. His movements are slow, deliberate, like he’s testing the space between you. “Alright,” he says, “then I’ll change my wish.”

You arch a brow. “Oh?”

He takes another step forward, closing the gap between you, his voice lower now, more careful. “Go on a date with me.”

You blink.

The air shifts.

“…What?”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers over your face, reading every flicker of confusion. His hands slide into the pockets of his hoodie, but he doesn’t retreat. If anything, he looks amused by your reaction.

“What’s confusing about that?” he muses.

You search his face, as if waiting for him to break into laughter, to reveal it as some kind of joke. “I just—” You huff out a breath, crossing your arms. “You could’ve asked for anything, Jungkook. And you want a date?”

His lips quirk. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You falter.

It’s not that you think you’re unworthy of Jungkook’s attention. But he’s… him. He’s effortlessly cool, universally liked, the kind of guy who doesn’t need to ask for attention—it just happens to him. You, on the other hand, spent the entire night proving that you were possibly the worst Mario Kart player alive.

“…I just didn’t think you’d be interested,” you admit.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, something fond playing at the edges of his expression. “Funny,” he murmurs, gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. “I actually wanted to ask for a kiss.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is quieter now, softer. “But I didn’t want to come off too strong.”

You hesitate for only a second. Then, before you can think twice about it, you tilt your chin up, challenging.

“You should just try,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t waste another moment.

He steps in, closing the space between you with a confidence that makes your stomach flip. His fingers skim your waist—not pulling, not forcing, just there, grounding, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean in just as he does, meeting him in the middle.

The first brush of his lips is slow, testing, but the moment you sigh against his mouth, Jungkook deepens it. His hand splays at your hip, his other fingers grazing along your jaw. It’s not hurried, not rushed—he savors it, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than he’s willing to admit.

You barely notice the way your fingers grip his hoodie until he makes a quiet sound against your lips—a small, pleased hum that sends warmth curling through your spine.

When he finally pulls back, it’s not by much. His forehead hovers close to yours, breath still mingling with your own. The smallest grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“So?” he murmurs. “Was that too strong?”

Your pulse is thundering, your knees still weak, but you somehow manage to smirk. “Eh. I’ve had better.”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. “Liar.”

You laugh softly, still catching your breath. And then—because you can, because it feels right—you press another quick, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away.

“Help me clean,” you say, turning back toward the mess.

Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Then, just as you start moving, he exhales dramatically.

“For the date,” he says simply.

You pause, turning to look at him again.

His grin is soft but mischievous, his head tilted slightly like he’s challenging you to argue.

A slow warmth spreads through you, sinking deep, settling somewhere in your ribs.

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

And then, laughing under his breath, Jungkook finally helps you clean—grinning the whole time.

#bts jungkook #jungkook #bts #jeon jungguk #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook x you #bts x reader #namjoon #jeon jeongguk #jeon #jjk #bts jin #taehyung #hoseok #jungkook x y/n

118 notes · View notes