#I do what I can when I can where I can and carry hope for them in my heart. it’s all I can do without surrendering to trap of giving up

[satkru]

Said you wanted geto requests I'll give you geto requests! So hear me out geto in his cult era, but here's the thing he has someone that he takes care of personally! Reader who was gaslit into thinking the outside world is dangerous and geto makes reader cock dumb when he even starts to think about going outside but here's where the super dom geto comes in reader escapes the cult and geto finds out and punishes his little lamb for disobeying him, add whatever kinks you want I'm not picky but i hope this request is okay, have a good day!

*๑♡՞ . controlling/manipulative behavior on getos behalf , brainwashing , emotional abuse , spanking , bullying almost?? , hairpulling , not for the faint of heart , degradation , no remorse when fucking , fucking till u blackout , (light) facefucking , hard degradation , cum/cock drunk , super dom top geto !!!! , usage of "master

p.s. eeee i love this req sm!! cultguru will always have a special place in my heart ,, alsooo i js wanna say this rq but feel free to in my inbox abt anything!! im always open for small chats and honestly it feels weird to actively ask for engagement but yea, my inbox isnt only for reqs!!

"whats outside?" y/n asked, his eyes gazing down into the forest near suguru's temple. geto chuckled, "nothing good my love, just self centered monkeys who would rip you to shreds if they could" although the sleek looking man's tone was full of unseriousness, y/n still took his words to heart, growing more afraid of what was outside the walls of his dearest's walls.

y/n was put under geto's care due to a fatal accident that caused him to suffer from severe amnesia and lose a significant portion of his memories, y/n knew suguru as his "husband" and was aware of his leadership in a big curse organization that he wouldn't elaborate on. but y/n was incredibly thankful for his husband's kindness and respected the orders from him as payback for taking care of him while he carried his disability.

"you shouldnt be thinking about the outside anyways, why go out with nothing when you can stay here with everything at the snap of a finger?" geto slowly untied his hair tie from his usual up-do, gracious and luscious strands of black hair gracefully fell down to his shoulders. y/n nervously looked down at his hands, soft and delicate, almost as if he had never touched anything other than silk and cotton, "youre right, i wont ask again master geto".

suguru hummed, pleased with his sweet lamb's response. "bed time is coming soon, do you know what this means?" geto purred, his eyes smoothly shifted to y/n's, who was holding an almost embarrassed glance in his eyes. "yes master geto..". slowly, y/n unwinded the robe from his waist, gliding it off his shoulders, folding it, and placing it beside him. underneath his robe was nothing, no briefs, no undershirt, no nothing.

y/n scooted down the bed, laying his head on the pillow with his nude body facing upwords at geto. suguru undressed himself, the sight of his toned and muscular body made y/n squirm in his position. geto saw this and chuckled, turning around and crawling towards y/n, his eyes glossed with the desire to be inside his one true love.

geto placed himself right at y/n's entrance, his cock already lubed up with spit from his mouth. y/n's legs were raised above and placed on suguru's shoulders, "are you ready baby?" geto sweetly asked, y/n nodded, his face flushed with a crimson red. slowly, suguru pushed the head of his cock inside y/n's hole, causing the male to gasp and groan in pleasure, taking in every inch of his master's cock.

suguru leaned down and pressed a kiss y/n's lips, "youre gorgeous baby" he whispered, his words were coated in a thick layer of honey, nothing but pure love behind every word he spoke. y/n whimpered, the warm feeling of suguru's breath just above his glossy lips sent shivers down the man's entire body.

geto's pace gradually increased, growing more and more hungry, desiring the feeling of tight walls enclosing his fat cock. "tell me how good im fucking you y/n, tell your master that hes the only one who can ever make you feel this good" suguru ordered, although his voice could be soft at times, he had a more firm tone in his words, wanting y/n to feed his ever-growing ego.

"master geto.. oh god.. youre fucking me so good..! no one can ever make love to me like you do!" y/n's voice grew in volume, signaling his close release. suguru grinned at the scene in front of him, his sweet little lamb slowly falling apart in his hands, truly a sight to behold. geto continued to whisper sweet nothings into y/n's ear, telling him how much he loved his voice and how much he enjoyed fucking his tight hole.

the intensity of suguru's thrusts made y/n shake in pleasure, making him sputter out declarations of his love for geto and how good he always made him felt. y/n couldnt hold back anymore, his mind was resisting any forms of stopping from releasing, causing him to shoot his load on his own chest and abdomen. but suguru couldnt stop just because y/n came before he did, he still had to chase his own release.

slowly, the knot in suguru's stomach gradually loosened, pressure increased heavily in his lower intestines. breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his temple, geto let his desires get to him, causing him to cum deep inside y/n, warm and thick strands left his body and plastered themselves onto y/n's walls.

y/n and suguru stayed in their positions, humid air flowing through their lungs, heavy breathing from both sides. geto smirked at the sight of his gorgeous boy laying down, completely cockdrunk off of him. "you did wonderful my love" suguru spoke, but his words came through one ear of y/n and out the other. the black haired male chuckled at this and plopped himself beside y/n, admiring his side features and how tired he looked.

oh how his love for y/n was so strong, no one could ever convince him to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not never. he was his and his alone, no one could ever take his sweet little lamb away. but his plans of keeping y/n oblivious to the situation he was organizing soon fell through, as y/n overheard suguru's plan of massacring the entirety of the "monkey" population in both shinjuku and kyoto, which came as a shock to him. suguru? a murderer to all non-curse users? it couldnt be. but at the same time, y/n slowly began to realize geto's true nature.

suguru was never kind, nor was he ever a good person. he was nothing but villainous freak who wanted the world to be consumed by sorcerers and their descendants only. y/n had been trapped in an illusion where he was brainwashed into thinking that suguru's words were gospel and should not be questioned by anyone. not even by the man he was loved by, who he was worshipped by.

y/n made his escape plan, taking into account how far the nearest city would be and packed in secret, all under suguru's nose. finally, the night of his release came, due to the height of y/n's room, he couldnt possibly jump out a window or even make any mechanism to shuffle himself down the window. so the next course of action was sneaking out the temple by the halls, of course this wouldnt be as easy as it seemed, as most of the other sorcerers were incredible night owls and were often roaming the halls.

but y/n decided to take his shot, suguru usually slept beside him every night, taking that into account, y/n placed a makeshift version of himself made by his own cursed technique, using this to his advantage, he snuck out the room and roamed the halls, unfamiliar with all the turns and stairs. but he eventually made it to the exit and bursted out running, his mind was hazy, only clouded by thoughts of freedom.

y/n found himself deep within the woods near geto's temple, the nightly noises of wind brushing against the trees filled his senses, but the fear of being found out by geto still lingered in his mind. what if geto wasnt the bad guy? he randomly thought, making him stop in his tracks, was this all really necessary? was running away the best course of action? y/n's mind raced, second guessing himself and what he was thinking.

"y/n" a familiar but still frightening voice called out, the smoothness of it.. the intimacy.. could it possibly be? "suguru?" y/n looked back, but there was nothing, just the darkness of the shadows. y/n became uneasy but continued his way out of suguru's property, only to be stopped by bumping into a hard but plush chest. he yelped as he fell but was caught by someone catching him by his hair, "you thought running away could be an easy escape for you?" geto's deep voice rang, veins popped out of his temple under the moonlight. "g-geto! i—!" y/n cut himself off with a sharp scream as suguru tugged on his hair more. leading him to his infamous manta ray curse who was usually geto's ride.

y/n could sense geto's anger, the scent of pure rage coursed through his senses. but he couldnt find it in himself to find himself in the wrong, his actions were justified by the fear of the true monster his husband truly was. y/n couldnt speak now, as his fear grew more intense as they neared the temple. he was surely going to experience a severe punishment once he arrived to the sanctuary.

the curse parked itself by y/n's room window, letting the two slide off of his fin into the warmly lit chamber. y/n could see suguru's past desperation with the messiness of the large room, the bed was stripped to the bone, the closet wide open and clothes were splattered all over the floor, the bathroom and the closet inside there was also torn apart.

he felt bad due to suddenly being a source of stress for geto, but he couldnt find himself in the wrong, as all he wanted to do was no longer associate with a murderous cult leader. "do you know that this is all your fault?" suguru's voice came out cold and distant, scaring y/n as he was accustomed to hearing his sweet voice, he looked down at his feet and rubbed his hands against each other, not daring to utter a word, which made geto more mad.

"you thought you could leave so easily? you are pathetic y/n. youre incredibly lucky i held myself back from doing worse to you in that forest" geto's tone was laced with an immense amount of venom, his eyes were wide and his eyebrows were deeply furrowed. y/n continued to look down, embarrassed to look suguru eye to eye, which left him no other choice than to roughly take y/n's chin into his harsh grasp and forcibly make him look into his eyes.

y/n looked up in terror, fear coursed through his veins as he looked into suguru's hard gaze, there was barely any soft feature to him, his sweet smile and calm demeanor had completely vanished and had instead been replaced by ruthless rage. "you think anyone outside my sanctuary will take in a lowlife whore like you? you dont cook, you dont clean, you are nothing but a worthless cum dump for me and me only" geto spat, baring canines as if he were a rabid dog.

y/n teared up at suguru's harsh words, it wasnt his fault he was completely rendered useless, geto had always told him that all his needs were always going to be met by him and the rest of the members in his temple. but it had seemed that geto had turned on his words all because of one escape plan from him, "i..im sorry master geto, i promise i'll make it up to you, please sir, please just forgive me" y/n sank to his knees, bowing his head at suguru's feet as if he were begging god to give him a second chance at life.

y/n sobbed into the carpeted floor, tears mixed with his snot which then mixed with his drool that seeped out of his mouth, suguru looked down at the groveling man at his feet, a flash of malicious intent glowed in his eyes. "if you want to be forgiven by your master, then you have to serve my trials" his tone was less hard and was instead more firm and serious, y/n lifted his head from the floor and looked at geto, his purple gaze looking through his entire soul.

y/n looked pitiful, his entire face was red and wet from his sobbing liquids, his eye whites were turning a light red. suguru looked at him as if he were a begging puppy, pleading for him to take care of him again. y/n sniffled, "what are they master geto?" he asked somewhat eagerly, geto smirked, "i'll show you" he said as he walked towards the bed, covering the bare mattress with one of the fallen comforters.

he sat down with his legs spread, beckoning y/n to come closer, which he did. suguru wiped his husband's wet face with his sleeve, "look at my poor baby boy with his sad face" he cooed, almost mocking y/n's pathetic situation. he slowly guided him back to his knees in front of him, holding his chin to make him look up at him.

he almost felt powerful in a way, sure he has a lot of followers with his own organization that fall to their knees so easily for him, but when y/n did it, it just felt so much different, almost surreal in a way. "you ready for trial one baby?" geto asked, his purple orbs narrowing down as he watched y/n's face with precise attention. y/n nodded obediently, his eyes pleading for an order from him. suguru chuckled, "alright then, first off, you will service my cock with your mouth."

y/n looked down from his concentrated gaze at geto's eyes, shifting his attention to his straining cock in his briefs. although he had seen suguru's cock so many times, he couldnt help himself but still felt nervous in the presence of the sheer size of his devoter's cock. y/n skillfully pulled down the black boxers of geto, causing the large manhood of his pop out like it was a jack in the box. cloudy white precum pearled at geto's coral colored slit, the light breeze from the open window caused suguru to shiver slightly and make his cock twitch more aggressively.

y/n gently stroked geto's hard and long dick, taking in the feeling of his many pulsing veins that ran along his fat cock. y/n's tongue wrapped around suguru's tip, lapping up the beading precum like it was sap, the taste was like no other, almost like salted butter but with light notes of sweetness. geto shakily groaned, the moistness of y/n's soft tongue made him feel like he was on cloud nine. he placed a hand on top of his husband's head, running his hands through the locks of hair.

"so good" suguru moaned, his grip on the comforter under him tightening as y/n lowered his mouth more towards his base. the tongue of his lover rubbed against the most sensitive of bloodvessels on his fat cock, making geto's grip on the two different surfaces harden more. y/n slurped and gurgled on the saliva he produced, guiding the clear liquid all over the bareness of geto's dick, the warm fluid slipped all around the meaty cock of suguru made y/n shiver in desire, wanting to please his master however he wanted to be pleased.

y/n continued sucking, his mouth was like a suction cup that was stuck onto the thickness of suguru. he couldnt lie, he loved the feeling of geto's tip repeatedly hitting the back of his throat as if he were nothing but a fleshlight with no limits, "youre so good at this" suguru cooed with his smug smirk he always wore during sex, the ego of this man was so tantalizing but in a such hot way.

geto slowly took control on y/n's intake of his cock, easing him up and down his shaft through the means of holding his significantly smaller head in his large hand. breathless moans seeped out of his mouth, his eye twitched and rolled back from the pleasure coming from his slobbered-on cock. y/n made small noises on geto's cock, sending vibrations through the muscle which caused suguru to grow closer to climax.

but he couldnt possibly just cum from getting his dick sucked, so suguru pulled y/n off of him with a quick but sloppy pop from his mouth. "we cant end it there baby, we need to do trial two, remember?" geto reminded y/n, his breath hitching slightly, his face covered in a harsh blush and sweat. y/n hummed obediently, looking up to master geto for his next assignment. "next trial: you'll take me from behind and endure my brutal thrusts" the way suguru placed emphasis on "brutal" made y/n shiver slightly, but he simply thought that it wouldn't be anything unnormal like his regular thrusts during their earlier intimate times, but boy was he wrong.

suguru simply grinned and stood up before y/n, prompting him to stand up as well, the overwhelmingly fierce aura coming from geto simply scared y/n into submission. "okay.. master.." the submissive man nervously got on the bed, shifting himself into a position where his ass was shifted upwards and his head laid uncomfortably horizontal against the flat mattress. suguru hungrily licked his lips, taking in the sight of his precious lamb in full doggy style, he hurriedly slid off the rest of his robe and basically jumped onto the bed, not in a loveful desperation, but in a pure lust-filled want to pound y/n into oblivion.

suguru caressed y/n's soft body, grasping chunks of flesh and admiring them with eagerness of sorts. he placed his large hands on y/n's hips, his thumb rubbing at the end of his tailbone. "youre unspeakably beautiful for someone so utterly pathetic" geto bit his lip, turning his soft pink underlip slightly red. y/n dug his face into the puffy comforter, ashamed to be degraded in such a lowly way by a man he looked up to, but suguru didnt care what y/n thought anymore, he had betrayed him in an unspeakable way and he was going to take his dignity back one way or another.

a bloodcurdling scream ripped out of y/n as he felt the entirety of geto's cock waltz into his hole as if it was a regular monday morning, he felt something warm run down his leg and he could only hope is wasnt what he thought it was. but suguru didnt have time to care about such little things like making sure his partner was okay, he wanted to regain his power, to feel like his normal egotistical self again, to be the man who had a sweet little lamb to take care of. geto huffed as his hips thrusted in and out of y/n, his long hair ghosted the small hairs on the back of the submissive man below him, making the man shiver and cry out. he begged, he pleaded, he screamed, but nothing came from it, it wasnt like he didnt want suguru inside him, it was quite the opposite actually, but the feeling of his raw cock destroying his insides, plus, saliva can only stay wet for so long.

"now my lamb, you will take my words into that pretty little head of yours and you will engrave them into every thought of yours, got it?" y/n could do nothing but writhe and moan as he tried so desperately to hold onto any kind of sustainability, "good, 1st rule: you will never ever be able to leave this room again, i will place a bodyguard by your door to make sure of that, 2nd rule: you will never speak of the outside world again, 3rd rule: you cannot interfere with my work, as its only for me and not for a little whorish cumdump like you" suguru cackled sinisterly, "you will be reduced to being my slut, my personal cum dumpster, you wont even hold the title of being my husband anymore, or maybe you will, i'll think about it" geto's words were wild and impulsive, adrenaline running through his veins as he consistently pounded himself back into y/n like a monster.

"what will you be after this y/n? tell it to me so i can know youre listening" he commanded, "i'll be your—! your personal cumdump master! i cant! sug— master geto! i need to cum!" y/n's sentence was riddled with fumbled words and loud moans, and it made suguru smirk, this is what it felt like to be in control, to personally rewire a man's mind into being nothing but a cum dump for you. oh the feeling of power made geto's skin crawl with excitement, his cock twitched against the tight walls of y/n, making the man squirm around, "cum for me baby, show me that you're made for my cock and mine only" the cooing words of suguru made y/n release without even thinking twice, he couldnt hold a single thought even if he wanted to, it felt like his braincells were being rewired by strands of geto's cum.

y/n came onto the comforter, gasping for air as he did, but geto wasnt done, not by a long shot even. his cock pulsed and twitched but he couldnt get the right shot, so he pulled y/n back up by his hair, "tell me what i am to you boy" he growled, y/n's breath hitched and struggled, "you're everything master geto, youre the air i breathe in, youre the world i see before i close my eyes, youre the sun and moon master geto, youre my god" y/n's words riled up suguru like no one else could, making his thrusts deeper and less understanding, his hips moved sloppier before he finally blew inside his husband, cum seeped out of his fat cock like a river, not stopping even when it overflowed out of y/n's hole.

geto breathed heavily, a mix of humid air and the cold AC wafted into his nose, the smell of sex radiated off the two, sweat dripped from their bodies and the tingling sensation of releasing still lingered on the two of them. y/n could barely move from aside small twitches and slight shivers, suguru watched as he laid there, shaking, holding onto the sliver of consciousness with all his willing might. "I'll shower you tonight, from now on, you are my husband and my whore, you will never speak or act outside of line after this, understood?" y/n let out meek noises, as if he were just a mouse under a hungry cat's paw. geto smiled, happy with the affects his actions.

[hoondrop]

hi, moon !! this is my first time sending an ask >< can i ask creampie with hoon then he fingers his cum back inside her pussy and makes her cum again and he tastes it ! tysm, you’re an angel i love ur works 🥺🥺

a/n: you're the angel here with your sweet messages 🫶🏻 I hope you like this little hoon drabble anon mwah

Your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, legs spread lazily, body flushed from how hard he just took you. His silk shirt is still on — unbuttoned, hanging open, sleeves rolled, his skin sticky with heat.

Sunghoon leans over you, still catching his breath. His cock, wet and satisfied, twitches against your thigh. His eyes? Unmoving, locked on the mess between your legs like he’s entranced.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You look ruined.”

He reaches between your thighs again, fingers slipping through your slick, dragging slowly over your entrance. You squirm, overstimulated, but he just smiles.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs. “Too bad, baby. I’m not done.”

Two fingers push in.. slowly, deliberately.. and your breath hitches.

“Gotta make sure every drop of me stays where it belongs,” he says, leaning down to whisper it into your ear. “Deep in this greedy little cunt.”

You let out a broken noise and he groans at the sound, fucking his fingers into you gently, curling them just enough to make you twitch again.

“Still so tight,” he grits out. “You came for me, took all of me, and you're still so fucking desperate.”

He watches the way your body clenches around his fingers, how your hips roll up despite how sore you are.

“God, look at you,” he growls. “You’re throbbing. You like when I stuff it back in, don’t you?”

You can’t answer. You’re whimpering, arching, mouth open but speechless.

He pulls his fingers out, slow, shining with the evidence of everything he just gave you, and lifts them to your lips.

“Taste it,” he commands, soft but dark. “Taste what I do to you.”

You part for him, and the second your tongue touches his skin, he’s kissing you again; rougher this time, lips claiming you like he’s still inside.

“Mine,” he groans into your mouth. “All of you. Always.”

Your body’s still quivering; thighs slick, chest rising, breath slow and wrecked. You’re not sure how much time has passed. You just know Sunghoon hasn’t stopped touching you.

His shirt is still open, clinging to his chest. One hand is braced beside your head, the other slips down your stomach.

He runs his fingers over the curve of it — slow, almost idle — but there’s something behind his eyes now. Not just lust.

Something deeper.

“Right here,” he murmurs, voice low. “You feel that?”

You twitch.

“That’s where I want to stay. Where I want to be.”

You blink up at him, dazed. He doesn’t look at your face — not yet. His eyes are locked on your belly like it’s sacred.

He presses his palm flat, fingers spread, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

“One day,” he says. “One day, I’m gonna fill you so deep you won’t just feel me... you’ll carry me.”

Your breath catches.

“Right here. You’ll wake up sore and aching, and I’ll still be inside you. Deeper than ever. All mine.”

[jellymochii]

Stray Kids as the Seven Deadly Sins (kinky edition)

⛓️pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

⛓️genre: pure smut

⛓️cw: smut, bdsm, degradation, cunnulingus, p in v, unprotected s3x (please don’t), and lots of other things hehe

⛓️wc: 3k

⛓️authors note: hi im alive! pls read my previous post as to explain why I wasn’t active for such a long time. if you have a request currently pending I WILL GET TO IT before the end of my summer, im just doing this as a little hobby to keep myself busy hehe. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AS DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE INDIVIDUALS MENTIONED.**

Bang Chan - Wrath

He swore the day he met you that he’d never let his rage control him and hurt you, and he still keeps his promise to this day—with its exceptions.

Once you told him that you actually loved rough sex on some occasions—biting, spanking, hair pulling and all—he still hesitated to even stoop to that level, since you were so delicate and fragile to him, but you insisted that you didn’t mind if he initiated any sort of dominance over you sexually.

His breaking point was the night he came home after work where all hell had broken loose. He had gotten into an argument with his boss over deadlines after spending hours slaving away at his laptop trying to recover his lost files, resulting in him working overtime which wasn’t too abnormal.

However, you felt a certain chill up your spine watching his car pull up—like something was wrong, and your worries seemed to come true the moment he walked into the house already fuming, only to stub his toe against the door. He let out the most frustrated and enraged scream of his life before throwing his backpack full force at the wall and storming into the bedroom, causing both you and the dog to flinch.

You crept into the bedroom and observed Chan with his hands in his hands as his fingers desperately combed through his hair to try and self regulate—until his eyes laid upon you, like a bull staring right at a red flag.

In what felt like a split second, he had you cornered against the wall as his lips crashed into yours as his grip on your hair grew tighter with each growing second. After letting out a frustrated growl, he shoved you into your knees and trembled as he undid his belt—unsheathing his veiny cock with dribbles of precum already seeping out. You’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t a heavenly sight you’d dreamed of for so many nights.

“Open. Now.” He commanded, and you obeyed as you gently wrapped your lips around his red and swollen tip—only for Chan to grab a fistful of your hair and fuck your throat as tears poured from your eyes for what felt like an eternity. When he felt as though he was close, he pulled out and watched the string of saliva connecting his dick to your mouth slowly disconnect.

“Color?”

“G-green.” You mumbled out, prompting Chan to scoop you up and carry you over to the bed and slam you down, clawing your panties away and wasting no time slamming his cock straight into your cervix. Your cries of a mixture of pleasure and pain seemed to only fueled him more as his pace quickened, his face contorting in pleasure as ungodly moans left his lips.

Maybe his wrath wasn’t so bad after all.

Lee Minho - Pride

Minho’s always had that damn stupid smirk since childhood, you swore you’d find a way to somehow wipe it off his face—but you never have.

Since the day he first took you to bed he used his fingers with such unmatched skill that you swore he must have been doing this all his life (he hasn’t, but he did a LOT of research.) You swear you’ve never cum so hard in your life, and amidst your post-climax daze you can still make out a cocky smirk on his face.

The truth is that he knows how badly you hate his attitude and lives for the feeling of pushing you straight into submission after each nasty remark you shoot his way. He gets such a kick out of you trying to hold in your moans and whimpers out of protest—only to be screaming his name in ecstasy five minutes later, begging him to let you cum.

It’s days like these where Minho is pistoning his cock into you after a bicker that you really wish he would stop laughing in your ear and mocking you for melting under his touch. Unfortunately, he prides himself too much on his ability to make you cum no matter how much you choke on your own words and sobs—so your resistance was only met with Minho abusing your sweet spot into overstimulation.

“Say it. Tell me how I’m the only one who can make you whine and slobber like a bitch, and no other man will ever fuck you as good as I do.” He whispered, his grip around your throat tightening. You protested, biting your tongue and trying your hardest to not make a sound and give him the satisfaction.

Your body though, had other plans—as you felt your gummy walls spasm on his cock as your body began to tremble.

I guess it seems in the end, he’s earned the right to be prideful.

Seo Changbin - Pride

Changbin developed incredible discipline over the years of working out ritually, and it paid off with his newly incredible physique.

It was so easy for him to boast about all his achievements in the gym to his juniors now that he was no longer the wimpy kid he thought himself to be—and now that he had you, the most gorgeous girl in the eyes of many, he was unstoppable.

Truthfully, you’d often find yourself drooling over his big strong arms and dreaming of all the ways he could suffocate you to death, and he could see it all in your eyes. Your lust towards him only boosted his ego even more, and he was more than willing to show you just how great he was for you.

Here you were, tits smashed against the window pane as Changbin pinned you like prey—gazing down at the busy traffic of your urban city. Anyone could look up and see you so vulnerable like this.

“Binnieeee….what if someone sees us?” You choked, your throat still ensnared by the deadly grip Changbin had on it.

“Awww, let them baby. Let them see how well I fuck you.” He giggled, swiftly picking your legs up and positioning his cock juuuust right.

Oh, and how the angle was indeed just right. His display of sheer strength as he pistoned his thick cock into you, making you feel so full and yet so empty and hungry for more at the same time.

“Binnie, please! I’m gonna cum if you keep this up~!” You moaned, breath fogging up the glass.

“Hehe, of course you will jagi~. No one else can fuck you like I can, right? Say it.”

You’ll be saying it all night, I promise. No amount of praise will ever be too much for his pride.

Hwang Hyunjin - Lust

Every little detail about you seems to send Hyunjin into a daze.

He can’t describe the pure lust that boils in him from just the little things about you—the way your thighs look so soft and supple from just sitting on the couch, or how your back arches ever so slightly when reaching for things. His obsession and desire for you seems to grow stronger every day.

Making love to you is his favorite form of art—an addiction he can’t bear to be without. The little squeals of pleasure you make when his fingers are buried in your cunt are music to his ears, only fueling him to make you cum over and over again.

When you came home exhausted from work just wanting to escape from it all, you were greeted by the loving arms of your boyfriend while placing gentle kisses on your temple. You can smell the warm scent of vanilla candles scattered across the room, it feels like heaven. You truly feel so safe and loved in his presence, but you always know what comes next once your hormones kick in. Seriously, it’s like he knows when you’re ovulating.

Ten minutes later you’re in a drunken state of absolute euphoria, surrounded by the smell of sex and the sounds of your lips smacking against each other. Hyunjin takes his time with you at first, but as his primal need for more takes over he quickly transitions into a rapid and feral pace of pounding in your cunt. He swears he has no idea what comes over him—he’s possessed. The only thing he needs right now is to be holding you close while buried deep in your sopping wet pussy.

“Ghh-too fast!” You cry out.

“Shhhh I know baby, but you can take it. You’ll take it all in f-for me, promise”

You’ve always put your trust in each other and you know he would never harm you, but sometimes the look in his eyes is that of a possessed man looking over you and soaking all of you in like a monster hunting its prey.

And when his orgasm finally hits him, it’s like all the lust that was building inside of him finally surrounds him in a single perfect moment—with the harmony of your combined moans making him the happiest man alive.

Truthfully, he doesn’t care that he lusts after you all the time—it’s what he thrives on.

Han Jisung - Gluttony

His friends like to tease Jisung about how obsessed he seems to be over you—how the time spent away from you seems to deflate him into a shell of his former self. Like he’s starving for something more than the hot pot wasting away on his plate.

Almost like he needs to be buried in your pussy 24/7.

The first time the two of you ever agreed to try anything sexual, he seemed somehow tempted to try eating you out. He watched countless videos on how to perfectly pleasure you to the fullest with both his cock and his mouth—so when the time finally came, he would be well prepared.

What he didn’t prepare for though, was how badly he’d crave you more after just tasting the first drop of you.

What once was a challenge to be a better man to you turned into a spiraling obsession of devouring you like a starved man every chance he could get, sometimes cumming without even the slightest touch from you because of how intoxicating the smell is. Every part of his life when he’s not slaving away at work is devoted to your pussy—and how well your greedy hole sucks him in so much that his dick becomes a prisoner inside of you. It drives him to the edge so so fast.

Just like today, when he’s barely even thrusting into you and doesn’t seem to be pulling out at all, he's just humping you desperately with his cock sitting inside while he whines.

“God, this pussy’s gone be the f-fucking end of me, babe.” He groaned, pounding your cervix rougher with each thrust. “I’m gonna cum so fucki—SHIT~!” He cries out as you begin to push back against him, creating a whole new rhythm of pure ecstasy—only amplified by the unholy and sloppy sounds of your juices squelching against him.

And when the waves of pleasure finally crash against your shaking body, who else but Han to clean up the creamy mess you two created.

It’s filthy, raw, and pure gluttony at its finest.

Lee Felix - Envy

You’d think with all the lights flashing just for Felix and all of his glory and fame, there’d be nothing for him to be jealous about, but there’s a teeensy little problem he has that he just can’t shake.

Well you, duh.

He thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen—soft and delicate hands, a smile that could light up the room, and God, your perfect body. He wishes he could have all of it—and yet, it all goes to that stupid son of a bitch of a boyfriend you have.

Tall, muscular, perfect posture, and a jawline so sharp that could slice through anything. Although Felix had the muscles, he wasn’t nearly as tall as he would’ve liked to be and his posture was like that of a shrimp with all the back pain he’d been suffering. His natural feminine beauty was enough to have millions of fan girls desperate for him, but why not you? Why couldn’t you see through that dumb hunk of meat and look at him instead?

He spent months playing the part perfectly of an innocent male friend, even faking having a girlfriend who mysteriously also dumped him when your boyfriend had dumped you. He stayed by your side and pretended to be heartbroken with you while engulfing unholy amounts of ice cream straight from the bucket—and yet—he overheard you on the phone begging your ex to come back.

He’d had enough.

Slithering up from behind your disheveled figure and wrapping you up in a warm hug and whispering in your ear. “Don’t you think it’s about time to forget about him, baby?”

You froze, not knowing how to respond to that pet name.

“W-Well how? All I think about is him, y’know.” You muttered, feeling less like you were being hugged by a teddy bear and more like being suffocated by a snake.

“I can help you. I’ll make you forgot alllll about that stupid piece of shit—if you’ll let me.” He groaned, hands wandering down to rub circles on your clothes clit earning a whimper from you.

You’d never expected your best friend to be the living embodiment of the green eyed monster himself.

Kim Seungmin - Sloth

Truthfully Seungmin isn’t lazy in the slightest, the way he’s manipulated you to please him in every way and give you an orgasm almost on command takes effort. And yet, now it seems after all that training he can’t seem to be bothered to help you out at all when you just look so cute and desperate when you’re begging for it.

He seems to always tell when you’re ovulating because of how increasingly horny and clingy you become to him—begging him for just his fingers to help you out—but it’s more fun for him to watch you try and get yourself off without his help (and failing.)

Today may just have been the worst of it. You’d been itching for a release all week to destress from work, but your fingers weren’t cutting it. It seemed like every time you asked Seungmin to touch you—even offering to be his fuckdoll for the night—he still just looked down at you with that stupid smirk on his face and replied “Hmmmm….nah. Maybe after dinner, but you’ll be fine.”

Fine? Are you kidding me? He’s been taunting and denying you all week and insists somehow you’ll just be able to tolerate it? You couldn’t decide at this point if you wanted to rip his face off or ride it into oblivion.

You tried to settle yourself down in the bed and get into a zone while he jumped in the shower, hoping that maybe the memories of being pounded into like a dumb doll would be enough to get you off until he came back.

It wasn’t, and when Seungmin stepped out to see your frustrated scrunched up face and your fingers pumping brutally into your cunt—he’d felt like the king of the earth.

“Awww, look how disgustingly desperate my little slut is.” He sneered.

“Minnie…please, I’ll do anything—just please let me cum!” You whimpered out, feeling utterly defeated at this point.

He heaved a sigh in response to taunt you. “Ffffine, I guess since I’m the only one who can make you cum, I’ll help you out a little.”

You seemed relieved at his response, but little did you know you were in for an entire night of orgasm denial to turn you further into his perfect obedient dolly.

It’s not as lazy as you’d think.

Yang Jeongin - Greed

Jeongin was used to not being someone’s first pick. Whether it was being called a monster for the way he looked, being shoved aside by his friends—or being rejected for giving his heart to someone.

And yet, you saw right through all of that and gave him the love he never had.

He’s obsessed with you, truly. The way your hair sways when you walk, your toothy grin, and your caring heart—it’s enough to make any man kneel. And that’s the problem.

You’re used to being catcalled and it seems to not bother you as much anymore, but it’s hard to distinguish whether someone is truly being friendly or trying to get into your pants. It doesn’t matter to Jeongin either way though, he’ll see red every time. Anger consumes him whenever he sees another man compliment your outfit or ask you where you’re from—after all, he’s a man too, therefore he knows what those perverts are thinking.

And thus his rage turned into greed, he was going to make it a point to both you and everyone else that you were his and only his. He didn’t care how inconsiderate or embarrassing he was in public, no one was allowed to have what was his.

Like today, the two of you were just grocery shopping when the clerk at the checkout was just too nice to you in Jeongins opinion. Who the hell did he think he was calling you pretty? Why is he smiling so much? Why won’t he just shut up and put the tomatoes in the bag?

The more the thoughts swirled in him the more he realized he had to claim you as his possession, what was rightfully his.

And so that’s how you ended up pinned against the wall, being pounded into at a torturously slow yet sharp pace while your oh so loving boyfriend whispered filth into your ear.

“Do you really think that stupid pervert could ever fuck you like this, huh? Could he hit your pretty little sweet spot—just. like. this?” He sneered, thrusting harshly into you with each word he spoke.

The hardest lesson you had to learn today was to always watch carefully what greed and sin can do to a man, and how it can fuck you oh so deliciously.

[cuteandhughesy]

It’s You. ╰┈➤ AS37

summary: when your best friend needs a fake girlfriend for his cousins wedding, you are the girl he claims is his. after all, what’s the worse than can happen? well, after sharing a bed, an awkward conversation about sex with his family and an unexpected kiss, you and andrei are forced to confront feelings you thought you had been repressing.

[word count] 10.9k

warnings: MATURE! friends to lovers | fake dating | fluff | a lil angst | weddings | l kissing | reader is mentioned to have glasses | fade to black smut scene | drinking | mention of sex organs | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: the end of 2024, I put out a poll asking which players you wanted to see my write for (that I haven’t done yet) and svechy was one of the players you guys wanted to see! so I hope you guys love this 💋 this uses some scenes from a no-longer published fic—if it looks familiar, that’s because it is ❤️

🎵 perfect places by lorde, scared of my guitar by olivia rodrigo, must be nice by ruel, breakfast in bed by nessa barrett, carry you home by alex warren, it's you by zayn, best friends by 5 seconds of summer, delicate by taylor swift, + always been you by shawn mendes

andrei already knows that it's not the brightest idea he's ever had. actually, refrain that, it's quite possibly the worst idea he's ever had.

it's just—the idea passed through his system and fell out of his mouth before he could even blink. andrei's mother and aunt had practically ambushed him on a three way call just over three weeks ago—8 a.m in russia, 1 a.m. in carolina—which already had him in a frazzle. but then they immediately started asking about the dreaded (dreaded for andrei, more so than anyone else, obviously) plus one attached to his cousins wedding invitation.

the wedding that yes, was in fact only three weeks away. and a plus one attachment that andrei still hadn't confirmed or denied if he needed. because according to his very empty left side of the bed, and the singular toothbrush on his bathroom counter, andrei svechnikov is very much single and very much not needing a plus one.

but it just came out before he could stop it.

‘of course i'll be bringing someone to the wedding mama and tetr! in fact, i'll be bringing my girlfriend!’

and know here he is, 2 hours into an 18 hour flight from raleigh to his hometown in a first class seat that, despite its expanse of leg room, feels all too small. it's suffocating for no other reason than his own doing and sneakiness that he’s drowning in.

because you're next to him, happy and sipping on your third glass of champagne—skin radiating heat with the bubbly alcohol running through your bloodstream. you're halfway to tipsy and somehow completely oblivious to the way andrei's shoulders are still tight and ridged, something that normally subsides after take off.

as far as you know—because it's what your best friend told you, mind you—you're attending andrei's cousins wedding as his best friend. because since 2019, where you meet the russian hurricanes rookie downtown at a shitty dive bar playing music far too loud, you and andrei have been just that. best friends.

you suppose the friendship blossomed because of your common interests of sports and adam sandler movies and how the smell of coconut is one of your favourite things in the entire world. or perhaps it was your differences that had you and andrei forming such a strong friendship.

you hate rollercoasters, but andrei loves them.

you love tequila, but when andrei drinks tequila he ends up with his head inside a toilet bowl.

you would rather eat rubber than an olive, but andrei puts olives on everything he eats—much to his dietary staffs displeasure. salt is a killer people.

regardless, the both of you bonded over shitty honey garlic wings served with a side of ranch—sauce on the side per your request, to which he called you a weirdo for. whatever—and became fast friends.

so obviously three weeks ago when andrei asked if you wanted to come to the wedding so he, you and quote, 'doesn't have to be alone while he young cousins force him to play around the yard, and his distant family talks his ear off the entire weekend,' you easily complied. you booked the time off work that afternoon before leaving the office without so much as a second thought.

but andrei didn't tell you why he needed you to join him. not the real reason anyways. because what? he's just supposed to say, 'oh by the way, this weekend I need you to be my fake girlfriend because I told my family that's what we have become. boyfriend and fucking girlfriend.'

yeah, unfucking likely. and andrei knows that you're not going to kill him over his little lie. that's just not you. he's also sure that if he was truthful from the beginning with you, you would've agreed to the whole fake in love act with the snap of a finger. because you're giving and caring and so damn compassionate that it's almost sickly.

but andrei just couldn't. he kept pushing the truth back, telling himself that the moment would come and that’s when he would come clean. but now you're both on the plane to russia, wedding just a few days away, and you still have no idea that in 16 hours you're going to be sharing a bed and holding hands and maybe even needing to show a few kisses.

god, it's a mess.

"do you feel sick?" your smooth voice breaks andrei out of his stress whirling thoughts, lifting his palm off his sweaty forehead like he's been caught stealing candy. it's then when andrei realizes he audibly groaned out loud, which obviously did it’s part in grabbing your attention.

he swallows and sends you an unconvincing smile. "no, i'm fine." andrei feels sick alright, just not in the way you're picturing.

you blink like a baby deer at him from over the adjustable wall between your scoop like seats—your champagne glass abandoned on the fold away table in favour of clutching the edge of the wall between your manicured fingers.

a pout pulls at your lips before you reach out, touching his forehead with the back of your hand. "are you warm?"

andrei jerks back, worried that you’ll notice the misting of sweat dusting his hairline. "no, what? I'm fine, y/n."

you send him a skeptical look, "you look like you're about to blow chunks everywhere."

"that's gross."

"it's true," you chime. a beat passes, your gaze never wavering from andrei's wound up, tight expression, while the plane continues to easily glide through the clouds.

you take your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing on the plump skin until it will undoubtedly go raw. andrei has to stop himself from reaching over to pull your lip out with his thumb.

"are you mad about something? nervous?" you push, determined to get your best friend to spill regardless of how tightly wound up he is. and obviously you've noticed that he's been a little...off, for lack of a better word, the past three weeks. andrei is your best friend, of course you noticed.

but you know better than to push him, and that andrei will open up when he's ready—like usual. but the champagne floating around in your head has your tongue slipping, and curiosity has gotten the best of you.

"is it something I did?" you swallow, something tentative in your tone that makes andrei's belly clench with guilt.

"no," he breathes before running a calloused hand down the front of his flushed face. andrei looks back over to you, eyes flickering between your wide and sad ones, and he just breaks. "I fucked up."

ever amused by his dramatics, you quirk a brow at his distress. the drunk haze has you unable to see his actual, very real, distress. "you get the sushi from that airport kiosk after I went to the bathroom, didn't you?"

but it's then —when andrei looks over at you with a guilt ridden, pouty raw lip, that you blink. hard. a wave of hot sweat rushing over your skin as every possible problem arises in your body.

andrei mutters your name in that deep, gravelly way and you think you might be the one who ends up puking.

"what is it?" you swallow, "what happened? are you okay?"

he groans again, no less dramatic than the previous display, head falling back against the plush first class cushioned head rest, giving himself a nice view of the hard plastic roof above.

andrei thinks back to the phone call with his family—more specifically, how pleased they sounded when he told them that you were the girl he was bringing home.

you, the girl he's cared for since before he could string a cohesive english scentence together.

you, the girl who his mom facetimes more than she facetimes her own son.

you, the best friend his family has had the pleasure of falling in love with and accepting as one of their own. but left disappointed when andrei said, no, nothings there between you.

just friends.

it's too late to back out now—for obvious reasons, clearly—but also for the fact that he can't take this away from his family now. not when his mother had said she's been waiting for the two of you to fall in love.

so fall in love you must. even if it's fake.

andrei's head lols against the headrest over in your direction, and he gulps slowly, adam's apple bobbing largely. before he can chicken out and do something crazy like jump out of the emergency exit, andrei's lips part with hesitation.

"we have to pretend to be in love," he pauses, "like in love."

at first you just blink at him, face completely flat and void of emotion, and then every so subtly, your brows draw together. "...why?"

"I just," andrei hesitates like he's not quite sure exactly what to say to you. he chalks it up to the way your soft eyes are unwavering—patient, even—and that's the reason andrei just spews.

he tells you everything. from the wedding invitation with the accompanying plus one he got in the mail a year prior, and all the way through the conversation with his mom and his aunt just a few weeks ago. the taunting plus one and lack of girlfriend that just bubbled up in his chest until the lie just fell off his tongue.

andrei takes a much needed inhale, his cheeks flushed like a little boys in the summer heat. "and when my mom asked for my girlfriends name...I don't know? you were the first person I thought of."

you nod after a beat, every so slightly that andrei is not sure if he's imagining it. you fall back into the large seat with a fluttering sigh, "oh fuck."

andrei can't help the disbelief laced laughter that rumbles through his broad chest, because, yeah, oh fuck is right.

you turn to look at him, face a little less flushed than the last time you did.

"if it makes you feel any better," he continues awkwardly, scratching the spot next to his heart like a nervous habit. "my mom was really excited that we're together now."

"andrei."

he winces, "are you mad at me?"

the question prompts a flash of deja vu from meer minutes ago, when the question was flipped between you. "no," you tell him after a beat, running a clammy hand over your untamed hair. "i'm just...trying to digest it all."

"right, of course." andrei swallows and sits up straighter in his seat, "and I know i'm springing this on you very last fucking minute. but i've already figured it all out, and i've got some sort of a game plan for us."

"a game plan?"

"yeah," he nods, "I've called it the 'andrei and y/n love affair 2025.'"

"that's good," you gulp, pulling your knees up against your chest. your matching cream sweat set all blends together in this position, and andrei thinks you look like a cute marshmallow—but he chooses to not verbalize that right now, because it may just push you over the edge.

even though right now, you're surprisingly calm and it's kind of freaking him out even further.

you continue, "I hope you have this said love affair plan written down because we really gotta figure this out before we get to russia."

instinctively his chocolate eyes flicker towards the map screen, stealing a glance at the ETA of the touchdown. andrei looks back at you, "oh, we've got time."

for the next hour and forty five minutes, you and andrei go through every possible nook and cranny of your fake relationship and nail it down. from the beginning right until the very end, the plan has been polished and repeated between you over 20 times. each.

throughout the conversation you started to come a little more to. it helped that andrei asked if you were okay every fifteen seconds—which any other time may be a little annoying—but right now, you accept his persistent with open arms.

knowing that he feels bad about the situation is enough, even though you could never actually be mad at him. not over something as simple as this. the amount of times andrei has picked your drunk ass up from a variety of different carolina bars over the years—or took care of you the next morning—let's just say you definitely owe him a favour or two.

besides, it's not like you're really worried about faking a romantic relationship with andrei. most of the time it feels like andrei is already your boyfriend, just without the kissing and…stuff. now that's making you a bit nervous. but you digress.

you've both had a few glasses of champagne now, allowing yourselves to relax a bit more—which was much needed. it also allows your usual banter and teasing to return between you and andrei, hushed laughter falling from your lips under the dim lights of the cabin.

"so," you muse, a little slurred. "when did you realize you liked me?"

"you're ridiculous," andrei snorts, earning a cautious look from the old lady on the other side of the plane. neither of you notice.

"what," you laugh, "i'm prepping you for the questions." you reach over and push his thick thigh with the tips of your fingers. he barley budges.

"'nobody is going to ask me that." andrei counters teasingly, nudging you back.

"they might!" you counter, a teasing smile still tugging at your lips, a sight that has andrei following suit with his own boyish grin.

"if they ask...i'll say," he pauses, making you wait with half baited breath, tucked under the first class blankets that andrei always thinks feel like toothbrush bristles. andrei shrugs casually, "i'll say always."

your head whips in his direction from where you previously started to flip through the dinner menu—always so easily distracted—so fast that andrei gets a whiff of your raspberry shampoo. it's a pleasant smell, one that reminds him of coming home after a road trip to you sleeping on his apartment couch.

his words settle over your skin like a prickling whisper, and you blink a few times in surprise.

but then, like he didn't just say something so heartfelt and beautiful, turns towards the airplane dinner menu, humming thoughtfully as he reads the three options. "I think i'm gunna get the steak."

—

carefully, but with precision, you roll your shoulders, bones and vertebrae squeaking and cracking in—a much needed, mind you—protest.

you can still smell the lingering champagne and the scent of plane on your skin, and on andrei's as he walks back towards you from where’d he’d been in the heart of baggage claim, both of your suitcases in tow—wheels squeaking along the weathered floor tiles.

andrei looks all but awake as he raises his eyebrows in question, "all ready?"

you groan sleepily as a form of answer, raising your arms in a limb stretching pull, tank top risings and exposing your lower belly to the bustling airport. you removed your fluffy hoodie as soon as you stepped onto the hot, sticky tarmac and it's now sitting comfortably around your best friends broad shoulders, making him look like he belongs in a country club.

oddly enough it suits him—when you said that though he gave you a look.

despite the way andrei urges you along, he too is fighting exhaustion. changing time zones is always a struggle no matter how many times a year andrei does it, and this weekend trip is no exception. there's matching eye bags under both of your eyes, and even though andrei knows that his family is waiting for your arrival, all he wants to do is climb into his small double childhood bed and pass out.

and you're in the same boat it seems, ugg slippered feet dragging on the ground beside andrei as you both step onto the descending escalator—suitcases clinging annoyingly at the change of surface.

the ride down is held for nothing but the whirling sound of the machinery as you and andrei stay quiet. not only are you both on the brink of falling asleep while up right, but you're both so damn nervous about perfecting your plan that speaking about it will only make it worse.

and if you panic, andrei will panic and it will just go to shit.

so silence is good.

once you're stepping off the escalator and onto the ground level of the airport, andrei automatically places his large palm on your lower back, steadying you as you both make your way towards the large exit doors that lead to the even larger parking lot.

a parking lot that undeniably has his family waiting for the both of you. suddenly you’re wishing you guys just called and uber.

your heart flutters anxiously, feet coming to an abrupt stop at the thought of the days ahead. you're supposed to be a girlfriend from here on out, and that has your tongue molding into a sheet of sand paper.

once he notices you’ve stopped walking, andrei spins to look back at you, his brows pulled in the concerned way he always seems to have when it comes to your well being.

"do I look okay?" you ask frantically, running your hands over your oily, yet somehow also frizzy, hair.

"you look fine," andrei soothes, pulling your hands away from your head and holding both of your clammy hands in one of his. stupid giant boy. "stop playing with it though, or else we will really have a problem "

you send him a deadpan look. "you're not funny."

andrei grins despite the sleep lacing his expression. he easily tugs you back into his side as you both begin to short walk towards the doors. finally. "you're right. i'm actually hilarious."

you roll your eyes and push the door open, a wave of heat washing over your already dewy skin and making you feel a bit woozy. andrei reaches over your head and pushes it open further, holding the door and allowing you to easily slip outside.

he continues, "you don't need to be nervous, y/n. you've met my family before and they are already obsessed with you." andrei makes a noise between an amused scoff and a laugh, "my mom texted me yesterday and said she's already changed your contact name to, future daughter in law."

"jesus christ," you exhale shakily, pressing a hand to your forehead. your eyes flicker up to his, "don't say that or i'll start feeling bad."

andrei holds off from smirking, "don't feel bad."

"too late."

"hey, just stop for a second." andrei gently takes ahold of your wrist, his index finger automatically stroking the outer part of your forearm. you know he's doing it to calm you, but unfortunately it only turns your stomach flutters up to a maximum.

andrei swallows, and all signs of his playfulness from mere seconds ago fades. his eyes swim with sincerity as he continues, "if this is too much just tell me and i'll handle it. I don't care if my mom whoops me with her shoe—if you're uncomfortable with this plan, i'll make sure it doesn't move forward."

you blink before managing to give one firm shake of your head. obviously you're nervous, but not enough to ruin your best friends entire trip. not over this. "i'm fine."

he looks skeptical, "promise me?"

"we're not 5." you deadpan.

"promise me."

you sigh—a mixture of reluctance and amusement. "I promise. i'm just...nervous. and overthinking everything. i’ll be fine once I get some sleep."

andrei's response comes easily, like he doesn't even need to think about reassuring you. "that's okay. just be you." he squeezes your wrist. "seriously."

your lips part in an attempt to deflect the wave of tenderness rushing between you and andrei—some sarcastic remark about him becoming a softly, surely. but the excitable gasp from across the surprisingly calm parking lot halts you.

"andrei!" his mothers voice is full of excitement as elena svechnikov bounces on her heels. both you and andrei look towards the commotion and find not only his mother, but his father, igor, and for some reason the family dog.

your best friend grumbles under his breath. "oh god."

you squint through the sunshine reflecting on the cars and distorting your vision. "is that a sign?"

he matches your squinty expression, even going as fair to shield his eyes from the sun with his gigantic hand. "that's definitely a sign."

his mother, ever to sweetest lady—seriously like purse candy, shirt of her back, treats you like her own kind of sweet—is clutching a piece of red and black decorated bristol board. canes colours obviously. a big and bold font that says welcome home smack dab in the middle.

you're pretty sure there are even a few pictures of you and andrei accompanying the words.

andrei's shoulders fall in what is probably exhaustion and the act of giving up. his eyes flicker towards your side profile, a careful expression on his face as he asses yours.

"we got this," you mutter after a beat, squinting through the blistering sun and away from his parents—up at your best friend.

"I hope so." without another passing second, andrei interlocks your fingers together, a soft yet confident smile overtaking his face as he pulls you both across the parking lot and in the direction of his family.

you don't even register the feeling of his hand in yours until his mother is greeting you both happily, pulling you into a bone crushing embrace that has the potential to crack your ribs.

"wow mom," andrei snickers playfully, ruffling the dogs overrun head of curls as it jumps up his thighs. "you must love y/n more than me if you’re greeting her first."

elena waves of his teasing before pulling andrei into a hug that mimics the one you just received. andries father gives you a polite hug and then takes one of the suitcases andrei wheeled up to the side of the car.

"how was the flight?" his mom questions, eyes darting between you both with the upmost twinkle of curiosity.

"long," you breathe a laugh.

andrei grins, "but we were fine. lots of talking to pass the time."

you shoot him a look, and andrei winks at you in response.

this guy.

registering your voice, the family dog bounds towards you next, its chubby legs and paws scratching at your legs, tail wagging happily while it pants up at you—clearly seeking affection. affection that you're happy to provide. always a sucker for animals, you crouch down and scrub behind the dogs ears. it earns you a satisfied rumble from its tiny body.

"you guys are definitely tired," elena clicks her tongue in displeasure, running a knuckle over her sons cheek like he’s a kid. "let's get you two home."

she gently pets your head before making sure her husband is packing the luggage in the car correctly—even though igor claims there's no correct way to pack a trunk. andrei's mother begs to differ.

the dog follows in her footsteps, leaving you. with a sigh, you place your hands on your knees and push up from your crouched position.

clearly you should've checked how close andrei was standing behind you, because your proximity has you completely grinding your ass against his crotch as you move to stand.

you gasp as andrei lets out a gentle grunt.

"sorry!" you wince quietly, but before you can move away, andrei arm wraps around your waist, fingers flexing against your lower stomach as he pulls you back into his chest, holding you in place and not allowing you to escape.

"it's okay baby." he says. you try not let your eyes widen at the nickname or the way you can feel his semi poking at your lower back. you're sure the blush you're now sporting is visible by anyone in the general vicinity and that's embarrassing enough.

elena hearing your voices, turns away from her husband and looks towards you. the sight of you embraced has her cooing, hands held to her chest like she's just seen the rebirth of christ himself.

"aren't you too so cute, I'm glad you two are finally together." it's clear she's not seeking any kind of response with her admiration because she turns and gets into the passenger seat before either you or andrei can attempt at closing your gaping mouths. you seriously look like fish.

the car door slamming shut has andrei blinking. he clears his throat once, and drops his arm from around your waist, and despite the heat of the sun, his lack of touch leaves you feeling cool.

you quickly move away from andrei and his...situation, allowing him the space to subtly fix his problem before anything else. you try not to think about it and pass your backpack to andrei's father, who is waiting patiently for the last bit of luggage.

"you okay sweetie?" igor sends you a weary coupled with amused glance, placing your pink bag on top of andrei's green suitcase. "you're looking flushed."

your eyes widen into saucers as your skin only warms further. jesus christ.

thankfully, ever your savour, andrei saunters up next to you, shoving his own carry on into the trunk with anything less than grace. he laughs, "it is summer, dad. we're both roasting." andrei jerks his head towards the front of the suv while the dog barks happily from his mothers lap. "go ahead and get in dad, run the air conditioner for a second. i've got the rest of the bags."

as soon as igor gets into the driver's seat, your both whipping in each others direction, looks of bewilderment on your faces as the last 5 minutes linger in the air.

"fuck i'm sorry," andrei whispers frantically, pretending to adjust the suitcases to not draw too much attention to either of you. "I don't know what came over me there. are you okay?"

you can't help your eyes from flickering towards his crotch. "are you okay?"

"I will be as soon as we stop talking about it."

you snort a laugh before quickly covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the sound. andrei sends you a harsh look which only makes you giggle more.

he shuts the trunk. "just...get in the car."

"such a gentlemen."

all earlier teasing and playfulness comes to a lull as the cool and plush leather seat envelopes you—the lack of rest and pure exhaustion quickly creeping back into your bones. it's truly game over when the car starts moving, lulling you into a much needed sleep.

not even the smell of airplane and greasy hair can stop the comfort of your best friends thick body pressed against yours, providing you with the most perfect pillow as you knock out, the beautiful city of barnaul passing through the window panes.

— day 1 BREAKFAST

you have very faint memory of climbing up the stairs of the svechnikov home after arriving back from the airport. andrei helped you out the car—sleep still clouding your eyes and your legs wobbly like a brand new baby giraffe.

the next thing you know, you're blinking awake, the sun shining through the sheer blue curtains and assaulting your eyes. you're not sure exactly what time it is, but based on the light and the smell of breakfast food wafting up the stairs, you can only assume you've slept through yesterday afternoon and night.

you blink a few times, squinting at the alarm clock on the bedside table until it becomes clear—7:08 a.m. you groan into the quiet room, the mattress squeaking under your weight while you shift into a more upright position. the navy blue plaid duvet falls to your hips. it unmistakably smells like andrei, and although it's a room you've stayed in before, being in here never fails to make you feel all warm and fuzzy.

there are posters up on his wall of ovechkin and a few other russian nhl stars. old hockey sticks sit collecting dust in the corner of his room, and next to them is your suitcase. andrei must've rolled it in after you got into the bed, where you undoubtedly knocked right back out.

you stretch the stiffness from your limbs before slipping out of bed. you're still in your travel clothes, so you make quick work of changing into something a little more appropriate—cut offs and an old shirt of andrei's because you really can't be bothered to dress up for 7 am breakfast—and cleaning yourself up.

after a quick trip to the bathroom where you speed run brushing your teeth and washing your face, you timidly make your way down the stairs, the noise of bacon sizzling on the stove and gentle chatter becoming louder as you enter the room.

evgeny, andrei's brother, spots you first from his spot already sitting at the dining table. he quickly swallows his gulp of tea before calling your name in welcome greeting, "hey, you're up. how was the flight?"

it causes a chain reaction really. elena and igor turn to look in your direction from where they're fussing over scrambled eggs and various meats in the frying pan—both greeting you warmly in a way that just sounds like one long jumbled scentence. evgeny's fiancee, sara, smiles and says your name in the bubbly way she does, patting the chair next to her as an invitation.

the dogs loudly barking and it's kind of a lot for this early, but you've done it all before, and easily navigate through the bustling kitchen, and the happy dog weaving through your legs, to take a seat beside sara.

"it was alright," you answer evgeny's question while sara wordlessly pours you some orange juice. it's your favourite, and elena always makes sure it's made fresh anytime you and andrei come visit. the thought of that alone has any lingering tiredness disappearing, and a absentminded smile blossoming on your face at the simple gesture.

he snickers and shoves some bacon into his mouth. "long, huh?"

"you can say that."

"sausage or bacon, y/n?" igor glances at you over his shoulder.

you hum, "bacon, thank you."

"you and andrei," his mother woos knowingly, "you're both the only people I know who love bacon as much as you do." elena holds a plate towards her husband, and once he piles some bacon beside the gooey eggs, she's placing it on the woven placemat in front of you.

"speaking of sleeping beauty," evgeny's playfully tone has you looking away from your breakfast and towards the archway that sits between the kitchen and family room. and there stands andrei,  sweatpants hung low on his hips, and hair messy like he's been running his hand through it.

you heart ticks as you lock eyes and the corner of andrei's lips turn upwards into a lazy smile.

"get enough beauty rest?" his older brother continues to tease him, earning evgeny a flick to his bicep courtesy of elena.

your brows furrow, as its only then you realize andrei wasn't in his childhood bed, but in fact, you were. "where'd you sleep?" it's not uncommon for you and andrei to share a sleeping place, even if he's on a half deflated air mattress, grumbling like a baby, while you snuggle in the cozy bed.

"the guest room — although," he shoots his mother a look, "it was hard with all the clothes that have seemingly taken over that bed." andrei rounds to the back of your chair, hovering over you while he playfully scolds his mother.

naturally you tilt your head back to continue looking at him, his mothers rebuttal comforting background noise.

he looks down at you, a half frown settling over his face. "you're squinting. you forgot your glasses, didn't you?" he reaches out and runs his thumb along the crease between your eyebrows.

the action is so soft and so sincere that you almost forget you need to reply like a normal person. "oh, right. yeah, I did."

you didn’t even realize you’d forgotten them.

andrei always notices.

he hums in what sounds like displeasure, taking his thumb off your face in favour of moving to sit on the unoocupied chair to the other side of you and sara. then andrei gulps down three huge gulps of your orange juice and just like that you forget about the butterflies in your stomach—snatching back the glass and shoving at his shoulder.

elena sits down across the table, breakfast plate piled high with eggs and fruit and sausage. it's just as mouth watering as your own plate. "you know," she starts, "you don't have to sleep in the guest room, andrei."

he shrugs, the kind of shrug that tells you he's listening to his mother but he's not actually hearing her. no, he’s too busy shoving eggs covered in pepper into his mouth. "it's no big deal," andrei stays through bites.

elena waves a dismissive hand, while she forks some cantaloupe with the other. "oh don't spare me son, I know you two share a bed, and It's alright to sleep upstairs with y/n." she pauses, a half amused and half concerned drawn look at her face. "well, I can imagine you do more than just share the bed."

you choke on your sip of juice at the same time andrei almost spits out the piece of bacon he just greedily scarfed. it earns you both curious looks from around the table. well, curious for everyone except evgeny, who looks all too amused with the way this conversation is headed.

"oh, that's okay-"

andrei cuts you off, a blush settling high over his cheeks. "mom, do not continue that thought."

"what?" she squawks, "it's completely normal for people who are together to make love."

"make love!" evengey relates with a laugh.

sara hides her face.

igor, used to his wife's antics, just stays silent. but the half smile on his face lets you know that he too is amused.

but you and andrei are like statues.

elena continues, "although i'd prefer if you didn't do anything in your childhood room, andrei. it's too nostalgic for you to just...strip it of its innocence." she forks some more egg onto her utensil, "but as soon as you guys get back to carolina, please, get to making me some grand babies."

"okay," andrei cuts her off before either of you can truly die from embarrassment. he scratches the spot near his heart awkwardly, and even in your own state of despair, you have to resist the urge to distract him. "can we save the sex talks until dinner." he trails off, muttering under his breath, "and the babies until the wedding."

it's sara who clears her throat, clearly also feeling the laughable tension—and snickering from her husband—tainting breakfast. she plasters on a smile, before shifting the conversation. thank god.

"I can't believe it took you guys so long."

you tilt your head, "what do you mean?"

sara laughs in a way that tells you she finds this whole ordeal cute. not sure if that’s the word you would use to describe it, but anyways. “to get together. you know, dating.”

"right!" you almost shout, blinking fast. without thinking, you toss your hand on andrei’s thick thigh, rubbing it briefly like some weird form of possessive affection.

at your touch, andrei tenses. you can feel it under your palm. if it wasn’t for his family all around, you would’ve face palmed right in that very moment. is this a normal thing girls do with their boyfriend? grope his thigh during family breakfast?

before you can remove your grip and regret your entire existence, andrei casually tosses his thick arm over the back of your dining room chair. his fingers stroke your shoulder over your (his) oversized shirt, wordlessly reassuring you that everything is fine.

it feels far from fine, especially with your hand starting to sweat.

“yeah,” andrei shrugs the shoulder that’s not beside yours, “guess I finally realized what was right in front of me.”

you shove some more eggs into your mouth, chewing slowly while your try to not freak out. and then andrei’s hand is on the back of your head, scratching your scalp like it’s an everyday occurrence.

why are you kind of wishing it was?

sara and elena gush, sharing knowing looks over the table. a look that says yeah, I remember falling in love with a svechnikov.

which on one hand is great—they are truly buying the whole fake dating thing.

but on the other hand—fuck, do you look like you’re actually in love with your best friend?

"I always thought the two of you would be cute together.” sara notes after swallowing her bite of whole wheat toast. “i've been telling y/n that since, what, like our engagement party in september?"

andrei makes a light noise, “is that so?” he tugs at the roots of your hair, “you never told me that.”

“mhmm,” you hum noncommittally, finishing off your glass of orange juice. you barley remembered that conversation with, at the time, newly engaged fiancée until this moment. you briefly recall you and sara, wine drunk and with a ring glittering on her finger—her smooth voice talking about you and andrei and how she thinks he’s in love with you.

you look at andrei, “didn’t cross my mind.”

“oh no?” he murmurs, voice all low and syrupy.

evgeny snorts, “get a room.”

you let out a laugh that sounds a lot like a grumbly breath, retracting your hand from andrei’s leg. you attempt to get the pitcher of orange juice but your best friend beats you to it, refilling your glass almost dangerously full—no doubt planning on stealing some more.

then andrei takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and then resting them on top the table. it so sweet and domestic and if it wasn’t doing funny things to your head, you’d probably melt at the sight.

elena grins, “awe, they’re holding hands.”

and then—

“yeah soon enough they’ll be making babies in the bathroom.”

— day 2 REHEARSAL DINNER

andrei check his watch, not impatiently mind you, because when it comes to waiting for you, andrei has all the patience in the world.

plus his mother would kick him in the butt if andrei even breathed the wrong way right now about your current lack of presence. his cousins rehearsal dinner starts in an hour, and with a 45 minute drive to the vineyard, andrei is looking to leave like, 2 minutes ago.

which is fine, because he's not just waiting on you. sara is still upstairs with you, and his mother is changing out her purse on the kitchen island because her usual handbag isn't the right shade. andrei didn't even realize there were different shades of black. but whatever.

it’s just about as andrei is about to climb up the stairs and make sure you haven't burned all your hair off and are having a breakdown in his dinosaur themed bathroom , the sound of shoes clicking on the floorboards echo through the home.

and then you're appearing, in some breezy conversation with his brothers wife while you descend down the stairs. your dress, which is the perfect shade of summer blue, swooshes coolly around your ankles, making you look like a real life princess. your hair is styled perfectly, and you've even added a little extra glitter to your eyelids and andrei thinks you look fucking ridiculously pretty.

your eyes catch his, and you falter. time slows down like honey between you and andrei, warming your skin and making your knees feel heavy.

andrei's lips part like he's going to say something, but elena waltzes into the room, igor just being her—both sporting wide smiles as the height of the evening approaches.

his mother spots you and inhales sharply. "oh wow, don't you look beautiful. andrei, honey, doesn’t she look beautiful?"

it seems to break you both out of your locked, heated gaze. you smile naturally like being polite is second nature, closed mouth and with glossy lips as you continue the rest of the way down the stairs. you gravitate next to andrei instinctively.

"yeah," andrei breathes, a half smile on his face that says something words can't yet. "she does."

and then he ruffles your hair and everything shifts again. you smack him away form your freshly done hair, but andrei just takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers as his parents usher everyone out the door.

—

the speeches go by in a flurry of laughter and emotion, warming your chest in a longing way you didn't release you held. there was one point when the best man started talking about how lovely the bride to be was, and your eyes got a little misty. which meant that there were fat tears rolling down your cheeks. andrei caught it, and instead of snickering at your emotion, he tugged you into his side, wiping your tears before they could continue to fall with his thumb, before turning his attention back to the speeches.

somehow, that was worse than him laughing.

thankfully as soon as the food came around, your stomach growled and the tears and sudden feeling of impending doom towards being single forever, disappeared. it's delicious and perfect and andrei keeps purposefully nudging his knee against yours under the table when someone makes a loud, stupid joke.

and that always ends up with you hiding your grin in his shoulder.

andrei, long clearing his own plate, snatches one of your brussels with his silver fork. right off your plate without a care.

your mouth goes agape, a half laugh falling from your lips. "hey!" you scold, "those are mine."

"sharing is caring," he reminds you, stabbing two more from the pile before raising them to his mouth.

"so?"

"so, do you want me to starve or something?" 

you quirk a teasing brow, "maybe if you savoured the taste of your own dinner, instead of scarfing it down like a neanderthal, you would actually be full."

"I can help it," andrei says around chewing, leaning in real close before continuing. "they're so buttery and delicious." clearly, andrei is trying to sound sudective and wind you up, but all you can hear is his chewing and it has you laughing, pushing him away as his voice tickles your neck.

"you're so gross." you laugh, grabbing the last full brussel that andrei was hoarding on the prongs of his fork, and then pop it into your own mouth.

he tongues his cheek as you chew up at him, a shake to his head so slow and soft that you're not even sure he's done. it's admiration, and amusement, and care—and it sends your heart into cardiac arrest.

andrei's gaze is so intense that it has a shiver running up your spine. the feeling making you straighten your posture and force yourself to look away. you don't see the way his face falls, or feel the way his heart drops.

and andrei doesn't know the way your heart has completely opened up to him in a different way. a way that reminds you of the feeling of home. of the past. of love.

"so, how'd you two meet?"

someone who you're pretty sure is a college friend of the groom, asks from across the table, looking between you and andrei curiously. his girlfriend has the same look on her face, hugging her man's arm fondly.

their display of affection makes you feel a bit funny considering you and andrei are supposed to look in love, but aren't even cuddling with one another at the dman rehearsal dinner like the very real couple.

so—awkwardly—you lean through the space between you and andrei, and wrap your arms around his bicep, your cheek resting against the crisp linen button up decorating his shoulder.

andrei shoots you a curious yet amused look. clearly he knows what you're trying to do, because he doesn't bring attention to your sudden affection. instead, he plays into it, large hand coming over your knee like this is something you two do all the time.

it must look natural enough because no one around the two of you bat an eye.

"we met at a bar." andrei says, "around the time I was drafted to the NHL."

"we've been friends for years." you add on without thinking.

a bridesmaid next to the couple nods, "and when did you realize you were in love?"

andrei laughs softly, rubbing that spot on his chest with his free hand. he swallows gently before answering the loaded question. "her laugh. that night at the bar, she was laughing at something one of her friends had said. I was naturally attracted to the sound. it was loud and real- it matched her perfectly."

andrei pauses, thumb twitching over the material of your blue dress. "and then when we started to chat, she was so patient with my broken english and bad flirting that I just..." he trails off, meeting your eyes from where you're softly peering up at him. "I fell for her that very same night."

you're pretty sure you stop breathing, and if you weren't surrounded by a bunch of strangers, you probably would've audibly gasped at that.

andrei blinks sheepishly, like he's only just taking account of what he's actually just said. he looks away form your gentle gaze and back towards the member of his cousins wedding party—who is staring at the two of you with a look he can't decipher.

andrei forces a chuckle and it's like a cold water bucket over your head. "only took me 7 years to admit it." he squeezes your knee in a way that feels like an apology mixed with truth. "but we're here now. right baby?"

"yeah," you clear your throat, his words and admission laying heavy on your heart. "we are."

—day 3 THE WEDDING

okay so you've kind of been avoiding andrei since the rehearsal dinner. and that was yesterday. it's just—you don't really know where to go from that.

even if andrei was trying to play into the whole fake relationship scheme, he literally admitted that he's been into since the night you met in that dingy raleigh bar almost 8 years ago. even if he didn't actually mean it, hearing him say those words cracked open the locked box in your chest.

when you met andrei many moons ago, you were quickly drawn to his dorky smile and shy persona. it was almost instantly that you developed some form of infatuation. and back then—drunk of course. you were in college. in a bar after all—you were much more confident.

you weren't going to let the russian slip away. not when the guy had you flustered and dipping your chin after two minutes of a half strung together conversation.

so you made sure to stay in touch. texting and calling and making andrei download snapchat so he could see how dolled up you'd get. for him.

you went out for drive thru dinners before andrei’s athletic trainer cared too much about the food he was consuming, and you watched movies with your legs tangled together in his apartment. fuck you even helped him learn english outside of his lessons.

but nothing ever happened. no moves were made because frankly, you weren't sure if he possessed the same kind of romantic interest in you.

so you pushed those feeling away. deep, deep, deep down into the spot in your heart you keep concealed to everyone, even to yourself. and you threw that damn metaphorical key in the toilet it and flushed it. twice.

friendship was good. and easy. and you could accept a friendship with him. because you still had him, regardless of your hidden feelings.

and you thought your feelings for your best friend had completely vanished in the last 8 years. until last night. when andrei and his sweet words and large mitt on your leg—stroking you and squeezing your flesh—started taking about falling for you the same night you fell for him.

surprise! feelings are coming back up the drain and soaking you.

and, oh god, the wedding. the venue which was stupidly packed and even more beautiful, decorated in lavender and baby pink, only made your feelings amplify.

because your avoidance for andrei didn't stop him from being the most patient and sweetest guy. he could tell you needed space as soon as you woke up this morning, and he walked into the bathroom to find you angrily brushing your teeth—and when you didn't send him a foamy smile from around the handle, andrei just knew something was up.

so he just sat beside you silently during the ceremony, wordlessly handing you a few tissues from his suit jacket when you began to cry during the vows. even when he didn't know your tears had nothing to do with the happy couple up at the altar, but instead the guy you've been in love with since before you knew the difference between tequila and vodka.

"you okay?" andrei asks during the journey to the ceremony outside, to the reception inside, words hushed against your ear while his hand hovers your lower back.

you nod, too quick and ridged. "just need a drink."

and drink did you ever. because two hours later once the sun has long set, and your shoes have been abandoned under the dinner table in favour of dancing, you can barley contain your drunken laughter and poorly timed singing.

you've probably had two bottles of wine to yourself.

and andrei can tell because your skin has changed shades and you no longer seem upset. which andrei knows is only because the liquor has coated your bloodstream, allowing you to forget whatever—or whoever—had upset you.

even though andrei is 99.9% positive that the reason for your cold shoulder is him. that, or the oyster joke evgeny made yesterday afternoon, but that was a long shot. it was most certainly him.

andrei watches with what he doesn't realize is a full blown pout on his face—like glistening, down turned lips, chin resting on his knuckles pouting—as you spin around with his sister in law.

not even the sound of your previous seat scraping against the floor pulls andrei out of his sad stare. it’s only when his brother nudges him that andrei blinks.

“so,” evgeny starts, voice low enough to keep the conversation between them, but still loud enough to be heard over the music. “y/n, huh?

“yeah,” andrei breathes, “y/n.” your name taste like sugar on his tongue.

evgeny nods in approval, but his lips are pursed in thought. a beat passes between them, nothing but the laughter of guests and synth pop song playing from the dj booth to be heard.

“can't say I'm suprised,” his brother eventually settles on, making andrei’s brows turn upwards in question while a rush of ice shoots through his veins. the inquiry and tone of evgeny’s statement has andrei feeling weary.

simply due to the fact that his older brother has always known andrei better than andrei knows himself.

he’s scratching at his chest again, but evgeny notices the nervous tic before andrei notices it himself. once andrei sees his brothers knowing glance though, andrei pulls his hand away so fast it’s like he’s been burnt, choosing to rap his knuckles against the table cloth instead.

andrei lick his lower lip before speaking. lis that a bad thing?”

“absolutely not,” evgeny reassures at the speed of light, voice steady. “it's just...I could tell that you loved her. always have.”

andrei laughs once—low and breathy—despite the way the words weigh on his chest. “I haven't always loved her. you're making me sound like a sad puppy or something equally as...” andrei trails off, but his brother is quick to fill the silence.

“pathetic?”

“yeah.”

“well, you are pathetic.” evgeny snorts, a playful edge to his voice that makes andrei sweaty. nervous. “when it came to her. always watching her, not subtly at all. and the flowers, and the birthdays, and that one year you couldn’t come home for christmas because y/n had the flu and you wanted to make sure she was okay.”

andrei shrugs causally, all while the weight of the truth sits like thick fog in the air. suffocating him. andrei doesn’t dare look over at you. not now. not when it will make him crumble and spill everything. “well i'm a good friend-and boyfriend.”

his brother doesn’t comment on the slip up. “I know that. but when it came to taking care of y/n and just being with her, it wasn't just about you being a good friend. it was about you loving her.”

fuck.

evgeny watches his brother carefully. he can see the way his words are affecting andrei, and the emotion pricking the heart on his sleeve.

it’s only then, when the conversation comes to another brief pause, does evgeny see the way andrei’s eyes flicker back towards your dancing, carefree frame. and instantly, he watches his younger brothers face changes.

it’s hurt.

it’s longing.

it’s unspoken love.

“it's okay to be in love andrei.” evgeny breathes slowly as if not to startle. “you've got a good one.”

a rough swallow and then andrei nods. “yeah. I do.”

“and mom loves her.”

that seems to do the trick, and it illicit a rough chuckle from andrei’s chest. “you don't say.”

“definitely more than you.”

andrei looks back at his brother, the start of an amused smile beginning to pull at his lips. “thanks dick.”

“you're welcome. and hey—now that you finally have her, never let her go.”

andrei isn’t oblivious to the underlying meaning of evgeny’s words. like he’s said, his older brother knows him well. but it doesn’t stop the panic creeping up andrei’s sternum, and the urge to deflect and deny is uncanny.

just as andrei goes to respond, you stumble into his eyesight, tripping over the air like it was a curb, and completely stealing andrei’s attention. thankfully you catch yourself before falling to the ground, but it still sends andrei’s heart into over drive.

"you okay?" evgeny asks you, his amusement clear. almost as clear as your level of intoxication.

andrei is on his feet before he even realizes that he’s stood up from the upholstered chair, standing next to you with his hand hovering over your back.

you nod with a lazy smile on your face, and your eyes completely glossed over. slowly, because you’re not completely all there, your eyes trail towards andrei. your smile grows tenfold while you grab onto his hips. “hey there. come dance with me?"

"I don't know," he breathes softly, eyes moving over your body as if he’s trying to assess you. regardless, he can’t stop the smile that blossoms across his lips. “I think it’s probably time we go? no?”

you frown playfully, swaying until your chest is pushed against his. "please? just one dance. please, I love this song."

andrei doesn’t recognize the song, and considering you play him every single song you like at least 20 times in a row, he knows you’re lying, and this is just an excuse to get him on the dance floor.

because you have seemingly pushed away your vendetta with him for the moment, andrei decides that he’s taking this opportunity to be with you while things are normal. andrei sighs reluctantly, yet with a hint of enjoyment, and that has your face lighting up—because you can see the answer before he says it.

andrei lets you lead him into the middle of the crowded dance floor and to a spot you seem acceptable before turning in his arms, wrapping your own around his shoulders while his find your waist, completely enveloping you.

the music has slowed down, casting the room with a slow, romantic haze that makes your limbs tingle.

"if you're sick of me after this week and never want to see me again, I understand." andrei mutters after a minute, thick fingers flexing around your body, like he’s fighting an internal battle. one that he seems to win, because he then is pulling you flush against him.

your eyebrows pull towards your nose. "what? no. nothing could make me never want to see you again."

“I hope this weekend hasn’t been too overwhelming,” andrei starts, voice no higher than a whisper due to your proximity. “and i’m sorry again for…springing all this on you—quite literally last minute.”

you shake your head. “i’m not upset, andrei. i’m fine, you really don’t have to worry about me.”

this time, it’s andrei’s brows that turn down. “i’m always going to worry about you, y/n,” he swallows thickly, knees bending ever so slightly so he can better peer into your drunken eyes. “you’re my best friend.”

maybe it’s the liquor, or maybe it’s pure exhaustion of fighting your feelings off for 8 years, but your bold question comes before you can deflect it. “and?”

your prompt makes andrei halt.

a beat passes and then andrei’s hand is running down the back of your head, smoothing your hair and you heart. “and.”

and right now—that unspoken knowing—is enough.

—

andrei brings you up the stairs of his childhood home two hours—and two chugged bottles of water—later. he gently guides you up the walkway, slowly and with his hand on your hip, guiding you and keeping somewhat of your stability in tact—your heels dangling from his index finger of his opposite hand.

he sits you on the edge of his navy bed once you’re back in the comfort of his old bedroom, ensuring that you’re okay before turning and shutting the bedroom door. your heels thump to the floor as he drops them next to the dresser.

andrei pulls his tie loose while spinning back on his heels. instead of the upright position he left you in, you’re now flat on your back, limbs all spread out and starfish like.

you’re not asleep. not yet. but rather grinning like a naughty child at andrei. your hair is fanned out against the covers, and there’s still some sweat lingering on your hair line from all the dancing and alcohol.

you’re quite literally glistening and andrei feels light headed.

"you can't fall asleep yet," he tells you, walking over to stand above you. with a delicate touch, he traces a finger over your thigh, and even through the material of your pale lemon dress, andrei can feel your body heat. "you have to change out of your dress, or else you’ll be mad at me when you wake up because it’s wrinkled."

you whine, "can you do it for me?”

your words are nothing but innocent, but his sex deprived brain doesn’t think the same way, and your whiny tone shoots right down to his dick. andrei swallows roughly, scratching at his chest twice before running his hand through his tousled hair.

you shift, the strapless hem of your dress slipping down just enough that it’s dangerous. andrei’s eyes instinctively dart away—just like the time they did three years ago when you’d been swimming at his place and your nipples got all pebbled under your bikini.

andrei curses under his breath.

you call his name and like the hopeless man he is, looks back at you. "please, i'm tired."

so, so hopeless.

andrei nods, grabbing ahold of your outstretched hands before pulling you back into your previous sitting position. your smile thickens and it has him feeling incredibly nervous.

"stand up for me." andrei requests quietly, and thankfully you agree with a simple nod, moving to stand on unsteady feet at the foit of the bed.

andrei doesn’t dare break eye contact. not when you’re so close that your scent is intoxicating and your bulging breasts are practically calling his name. without blinking or tearing his gaze from yours, his shaky hands reach around your body, blindly finding the clasp of your gown.

the clasp pops open, and you almost don’t catch the dress in time before it falls away to reveal your chest.

but andrei doesn’t stop there, his breathing heavy against you as he begins pulling down the small, yellow zipper. as andrei slowly begins tugging the zipper, revealing more and more of your bare skin, the more your breathing catches.

his knuckles graze against your skin, ilicting a hitched sigh from your plump, wine stained lips.

this exchange is quite possibly the hottest and most intimate thing either of you have every experienced, and nothing really has even happened. perhaps it the hesitant yet eager brushing touches that are making you light head. or perhaps it’s the eye contact between you.

it’s definitely the way your nipples have turned to diamonds, and andrei’s dick is sitting hot and heavy beneath his slacks though.

the zipper hits the end of the track with a soft clinking sound. andrei slowly lets the tag go, his hand smoothing over your hip as he begins to retract his touch.

you can feel his restraint. you can feel his desire.

"andrei," you whisper his name like a prayer. like a mantra. like it’s the password to the 8 year long puzzle between you. “i’m going to let the dress fall now.”

his gaze flickers. just far enough down to see the start of your dress and your barley concealed breasts. then, like gravity, andrei’s eyes find yours again.

“okay.” his voice is hoarse in a way that’s undeniable.

and then the dress hits the floor, the smell of your perfume puffing around you like a cloud as the material falls away. not even the smell of wine could over power your fruity scent.

he doesn’t look. he can’t. not when you’re still a little tipsy and he’s barley holding onto himself. instead, andrei brushes your hair away from your face, lingering on your cheek.

you swallow, “what are you thinking about?”

his answer comes like clockwork. “you.” andrei’s voice falters as you reach out, your much smaller fingers clumsily pulling at the buttons of his dress shirt. like your bodies know what happening before your heads do. as his summer skin becomes exposed, your hands find new home against his flesh.

andrei lick his lower lip and tilts your face up, towards his. "i'm always thinking about you."

and then, without hesitation or reluctance or anything else he’s been fronting since that night in that bar years ago, andrei slots his mouth against yours.

pushing up onto your toes, your grasp at his sides under his unbuttoned shirt, sighing against andrei’s mouth just as he does yours.

with his free hand, andrei grabs your hip, pulling your naked body flush against his, all while he expertly kisses and licks into your awaiting mouth.

after what feels like an eternity of switching between languid, slow kisses and heated hands and desperate kisses, andrei slowly guides you back down to his childhood bed, slotting between your open legs like it’s where he’s meant to be.

and perhaps, it is.

— day 4 THE MORNING AFTER

the sun beating on your back is what wakes you up the next morning. its bright and hot and too much for just opening your eyes. you groan out like a baby, pulling the covers up and over your head to further bury yourself in the cocoon of andrei’s bedding.

andrei.

your eyes snap open at a comical pace, and you sit up even quicker if that’s somehow possible. your eyes flicker towards the right side of the bed where just hours ago, andrei was curled against you. skin warm and bare against yours.

the spot is now empty.

the night comes back to you in movie like flashes. the drinking and the dancing. andrei’s calloused hands on your zipper and even more so on your skin. you sit there, still as a statue, as you remember how andrei kissed you—all over—and how his body rutted into yours like second nature.

the whispered praises and pleasure filled moans.

you remember it all.

and you remember, most of all, that you love him.

you don’t know if you should puke, cry, scream or just jump out the window. maybe all four.

you slip on the housecoat hung over the bed post, tying the string uncomfortably tight, just before slipping out of the bedroom. with last night still fresh, and your feelings practically drowning you, you know you need to find andrei—like yesterday—and tell him.

well, tell him as much as you can without choking on your own tears.

the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits your nostrils before anything else. you round into the kitchen and see elena and igor. they both grin politely, one of them offering you a drink—you’re not sure who because you’re too busy wondering where the hell andrei is to notice anything else.

the words tumble from you without a second thought, interrupting the dogs happy hopping at your ankles. “where's andrei?” and of course the cherry on top is your voice wavering.

elena’s eyes draw in confusion, her lips parting in wordless question.

“i'm here,” andrei’s familiar voice sounds from behind you. and instantly you feel like crying. he rounds to your front, looking freshly showered and clean in his shirt and athletic shorts. “you okay?”

“I just, I thought you left.” you admit, wrapping your arms around yourself as embarrassment washes over you.

“no moya lyubov,” andrei coos with his native tongue, brows pulled tight in concern. he brings you into his arms despite the way your self hug makes it a little awkward. “just putting our bags in the car so it’s all ready to go for tonight.”

“oh right,” you nod, a little dumb. you lower your voice even more before continuing. “we should talk, right?”

“yeah, we should.”

you nod again, manoeuvring in andrei’s arms until you’re able to grasp at his fingers. “come upstairs with me? please.”

he hums. “of course.”

as soon as you’re back in his navy bedroom, and the door is heard softly shutting behind you, you’re nervously wringing your hands out. “you're my best friend.” you blurt out, robe slipping off your shoulder as it is inevitably, too big. as it is obviously andrei’s robe.

he fixes the shoulder so you’re covered again. “I know.”

you continue, heart racing and voice cracking despite andrei’s calm demeanour. “and I thought that these feelings I was pushing down were unreciprocated.”

“I know,” he mumbles, pushing your hair away from your neck. “me too.”

its something in the way he’s touching you—looking at you—that has you faltering. it’s like you’re his. like he’s in—oh.

“and now.” andrei continues.

“and now,” you breathe, “and now I want to kiss you again.”

andrei legs out a laugh. “you can.”

“but not just today,” you interrupt, “I want to kiss you everyday and wake up next to you everyday because I really fucking like you.”

“well,” andrei breathes, chest puffing as he takes an impossible step closer to you. he gently but confidently takes ahold of your face in his hands. caressing you like a porcelain toy. like a prized possession. like the greatest trophy in sports. “I really fucking like you too.”

you exhale.

but he’s not quite done with his love confession. after all, he has been thinking about it since 2018. “and I always have.”

your breath catches, curiously and hope gnawing at you like a moth to a flame. “since the bar?”

“since the second you stepped foot into that bar, y/n.”

a beat passes.

“this is kind of crazy, right? is this crazy?” you laugh in disbelief, continuing to look up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky.

“absolutely,” andrei nods, thumbs brushing over your cheek bones. “but it's a good crazy. don't you think?”

“definitely.” you mumble through the beginning stages of a sheepish smile. your fingers itch to reach out and touch andrei, and unlike everyday before this one, you allow them to.

“okay then let’s bask in the crazy, yeah?”

A/N: okay. so! this definitely got a little rushed and I can only hopes this flows well enough to follow along with. and hopefully it makes sense and you catch the drift! I went through a writers block through this fic so a lot of the parts were spaced out (writing wise.

on another note—the rom com series is still happening. i’m just not sure when it will be out. i’m hoping for at least one before the summer ends, along with a few other goodies.

jo will girls and wyjo girls, get excited.

anyways this is just to say thank you for your patience and support like always.

[fanged-fanfics]

Can I request headcannons for transformers x gn human reader who said they could hold their whole world in their hands then gently cupping their face?

☆ The World In Your Palm — Transformers x GN Human Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Features Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Starscream, Soundwave, and Megatron

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Optimus

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Can you now? That's quite the goal"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He thinks it's another cute little human idea initially. A bit of a naive one maybe, but most earth ideas for "shooting for the stars" always confused him a bit. He also sort of sums it up to a hyperbole and doesn't ask much more about it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Until you offer to show him. That gets his attention. Humans are capable of incredible feats, yes, but how were you planning to prove such a thing? Much more visibly confused, he leans down like you ask him to

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As soon as your palms cup his cheekplates, he's even more bewildered. After thinking about it for a second, he chuckles, leaning into your touch as he uses a large hand to pull you a little closer. "That's very clever" he says with a smile "looks like I can hold the world in my hand too"

Ratchet

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Uh..huh. Good luck with that"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Completely doesn't understand the setup. The whole world?? This one? The giant ball in space holding billions of people? What's that supposed to mean? He assumes you're trying to bait him into a joke or something

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Then you ask him to lean down, and he's even more lost. If this is some sort of practical joke you'd learned from others, he wasn't excited for the outcome. But because it's you, he trusts it, bringing his face close enough for you to reach

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands cup his face, he's even more lost. He runs the situation over again in his heads a few times before it actually lands. He acts exasperated to cover up how flustered he is, lightly patting your head. "You humans, I swear... cute trick, kid"

Bumblebee

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh yeah? Go ahead, try, I wanna see it"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's amused at the idea. He knows you're likely not being literal, but he wants to see where it goes. He's had a lot of fun learning human jokes so far, what's one more to the list?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He leans down as soon as you asked, excited to see the expected punchline. He can't exactly see where it's going yet, but knowing you he hopes for the best and waits expectantly

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands land on his face, he has to take a second to get it. There's a bit of a 'is that... it?' moment where he's still waiting for the joke. Then it clicks all at once, and he gains a very obvious blush on his face. He cups his hands around your head, grinning widely "Well I can hold my whole world in just one hand! Beat that"

Starscream

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ha! That bold, are you? Is there no end to your feeble little plans?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He sounds a little mean about it, but it's just his usual teasing. Sort of in a 'that's nice honey' kind of way. He of course argues that if anyone is fit to carry the world, it would be him, obviously

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It takes some convincing to get him to kneel down. He pretends like he's oh so busy and has so many important things to do, but inevitably gives in and indulges your whims

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The second your hands reach his face, he gets it immediately. He stammered a bit, chuckling as he tried to brush it off. He didn't want it to be so obvious that something so small could fluster him, but he couldn't help it around you. "Ahem- well- you're very brave for being so forward! But I suppose I can allow you to hold on for a moment longer"

Soundwave

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Improbable. The world is too big for human hands"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Takes your words at direct face value. He's trying to be honest and let you down easy. He's got no idea how you somehow convinced yourself you were strong enough to pull that off, but he feels like he has to bring you back to reality

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He's only confused when you ask him to come closer. What does this have to do with your claim? He leans down of course, but he doesn't understand what's happening

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When your hands hold his face, he just pauses. He's about to correct you, but before the words can fully leave his mouth, he realizes what you're trying to say. He sighs from his vents as he holds onto your wrists. "I see. I.. can hold the world in mine, too"

Megatron

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Aiming big, aren't we? Your time will come"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He indulges your comment. He's promised you the world, everything his servos can carry. Of course it'll all be yours someday, he'll make sure of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He leans down at your request, though he of course asks what you're planning. He can tell by your little grin whenever you've got something brewing in your head, but he allows it for the sake of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He catches on the second you hold his face, and he chuckles in amusement. "Ah, that's what you meant" he said, leaning into the embrace "clever... for a human" he teases lightly

[prettydaisygirl]

hiii would you write something with dark!james again? something like, James plans something to scare reader to be able to save her after? (For exemple, he pays a guy to follow her or yell at her and James can come and save the day) I feel like it’s dark and twisted but perfect for dark!obsessed!james? I love your writing!! 🫶

hi nonnie! I absolutely LOVE to write for dark!James, so thank you so much for sending this in! I have been thinking about him recently, I love him. I hope you enjoy this one and that you're having a wonderful day <3

dark!James Potter x fem!reader who gets 'attacked' at the park ✿ 1.1k words

cw: fem!reader, James is a stalker, staged attempted kidnapping (?), master manipulator James Potter, James is a professional athlete

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Things are taking too long.

If it was up to James, he’d already have a ring on your finger and he’d be calling you his wife. He’d have you in his bed and he’d never let you out of his sight again.

But, he doesn’t want to scare you away, doesn’t want to run you off. He knows you’re already timid, given who he is and how forward he’s already been toward you. So no, James can’t just pick you up, force you into a wedding dress and carry you down the aisle, though that’s what he wants. 

What he can do, though, is scare you into his arms. He’d thought of the plan last week after he’d asked you to move in with him for the second time, and you rejected him again. 

“I don’t know, James…” You’d said, fingers twirling nervously, “Don’t you think it’s… a little soon?”

Part of him wants to be angry with you for not understanding that he is all you need, but he could never be mad at you. Not really. He just needs to give you a push in the right direction, right to him.

He’s waiting, now, lingering down the street from the park where he’d asked you to meet him. He followed your car here, though stayed far enough back that you wouldn’t notice him. He gave himself your location (and set it to always) on the first date too, and you haven’t turned it off yet, so it seems you haven’t noticed. 

He keeps his head ducked low, eyes narrowed as he watches you take a seat on a park bench. You play with the hem of your sundress, eyes glancing around as you take in your surroundings. And then, you reach for your phone, and your eyes lower. Bingo. 

James is slow in his movements as he climbs out of his car. His eyes never leave your figure, movements controlled so he won’t catch your attention just yet. Another man, an acquaintance of James’, climbs out of the car parked behind him. The two men meet eyes and exchange a quick nod. 

James waits, and watches, hiding in the shadows of a tree to avoid detection. He’ll come out when it’s time, he knows his cue. 

You’re sitting, scrolling through something on the screen, when a man-shaped shadow suddenly blocks the sun. You smile as you raise your head, expecting to see James. 

Only, it isn’t James. It’s some other man you don’t know. He looks to be around James’ age, but that’s where the similarities end. 

“Hello…” You greet him nervously, glancing around in the hopes that James might be approaching, arriving for your date. He isn’t. The man doesn’t move, doesn’t speak or really respond to you in any way. “Hello?” You ask again. Nothing, silence. He just stands there, menacingly. 

The silence goes on long enough that you get really uncomfortable, feeling antsy as you glance around and think of a way out of this. 

“Oh- uhm, I think I see my boyfriend over there.” You lie, but you gesture vaguely back in the direction of your car. Maybe if you can make it there, you can drive away and call James. It’s when you move to stand up from the bench that the situation takes a turn for the worse.

The man grabs your wrist firmly. You gasp, frightened and panicked, and try to jerk your arm from his grip. You struggle, but he’s stronger than you. 

“Let me go!” You cry out, but his fingers only tighten. He begins to tug you in the opposite direction, practically dragging you along as you try to fight back against him with everything you have. Your shoes scrape along the concrete and you can feel your eyes burning with tears, your entire body shaking. 

“Hey!” Like an Angel, sent by God himself, James Potter appears as your savior at the perfect moment. Your head whips around, and you take advantage of the slight loosening in your abductor’s grip to break free and run toward your boyfriend. Your very famous, professional athlete boyfriend. James gives you a soft look that makes you feel so incredibly grateful for him, and your appreciation only grows as he pushes you behind him. “Back off of her!”

James shoves the other man, who raises his hands like he’s somehow innocent. The sight of him makes you feel sick, wrapping your arms around yourself. You close your eyes as James continues to yell, and you don’t reopen them until James’ hands find your shoulders and he begins to lead you back to his car. 

“You’re alright, baby, yeah?” He asks you softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. You’re still shaking as he buckles you in, pressing a long kiss to your forehead before running as fast as he can to the driver’s side. He takes your hand the second he’s sitting down.

“I’m okay,” You finally manage, inhaling shakily, “That was really scary.”

“What did he want?” James asks, voice grunted and low like the thought of the man or what he was planning is still making him angry. 

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, leaning across the center console of the car to be closer to your boyfriend. “He didn’t say anything. Just started pulling me.” 

“I’m sorry,” James brings your hand up to his lips to kiss, and you feel your shoulders finally start to relax again. 

“Thank you for saving me.” You say quietly, and he squeezes your hand. 

And James, of course, gets everything he wants. You come back to his apartment, where the two of you have a date in bed with your dress on the floor instead of picnicking in the park. He makes sure to be extra attentive, never leaving your sight for longer than a few minutes. You fall into his trap hook, line, and sinker. Just like he knew you would. 

And that night, when the two of you are still tangled together and covered in sweat, he whispers, “I think you should stay here from now on. It’ll make me feel better.”

And after a moment, only the slightest second of hesitation, you whisper back “I think so too.”

Just like he knew you would. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[fashionteahouse]

Can you do one where Paul or Embry accidentally walks in on one of the wolves getting it on, but when the girl looks up they imprint? It kinda blows up right in Emily’s house considering it was happening upstairs and the wolf gets jealous of his new imprint literally being intimate with another guy in front of him.

Thanks! 🌸🌸

haha sure this is an interesting idea ! hope you enjoy :)

perfect stranger - paul lahote x reader

Tugging on your hand in his large but warm hand, Embry’s kind eyes that made your heart stop, encouraged you to come along.

A summer get together was happening at his friend Emily’s home.

“Her fiancé installed a new pool.”

That’s what had you sold.

Things were okay between you two. It started casual, a fun night out after meeting at a sports bar. He was funny and kind. Being in his company was nice.

“We can see how things go.” Was what you said one night. You found yourself wanting to be around him more and more, not even caring if you two didn’t have sex.

“Okay. You want to put a label on it?” He asked softly with hope.

You pondered about it for a moment.

“Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?” You replied. He smiled at that sentence.

You were touched that he wanted to bring you around people he seemed to care about.

He opened the front door, coming in as if he lived there. The woman directing a brawny boy to carry a cooler outside was standing with her hands on her hips, turning around to see who entered her home.

Her smile broke out as she greeted you both.

“Embry. Who’s this?”

“Y/N. Y/N, this is Emily.”

“Hey. Nice place.” You compliment.

“Thanks! You’ll love the new pool way more.”

This made you smile.

“Where’s your swim suit?” Emily asks.

“Oh. In my bag in the trunk.” You answered, you couldn’t believe you left it.

“Alright, I’ll grab it.” Embry says as he walks off.

“And Y/N, feel free to change in the bathroom- I even have a guest room that you can go in if someone’s using the bathroom.”

“Cool. Thanks so much.” You replied, and just then Emily leaves off, closing the backdoor behind her. Embry comes in with your bag and guides you to the bathroom.

The bathroom fan was on, ventilating the room. Embry shut the door behind him as you immediately was staring at yourself in the mirror, peeling off your shirt to reveal your bare chest.

His hands place on your bare shoulders and you look in the reflection to see his mischievous smile. It made you break out a smile.

Hands shoved in his sport shorts, Paul moved his long legs towards the small cozy home.

Earlier during patrol, Sam insisted that Paul should show his face, claiming that Emily missed him. He didn’t understand it. He liked to stay out of the way. What Emily missed about him, he just didn’t know.

He heard the commotion around the back of the home. Hearing the splashes and screams of glee as he moved closer.

Entering the home, taking a break from the beating sun, he helped himself in the fridge, cracking open a can of cold soda.

He stood at the sink, not wanting to leave to go outside yet. Crushing his can, he made his way upstairs to the bathroom.

As he stood at the toilet, the sound of urination echoed the bathroom and he flushed.

As he came out of the hallway, he heard noises. A mixture of a soft sigh and a low chuckle. Curiously, he inched closer to the sound. The crack of the door allowed him to see the activity.

Embry has you lifted, your arms were around his neck as Paul saw perfect view of your face. He was never a peeping Tom, he just couldn’t bring himself to walk away, walk away from the sight of you.

Pleasure was on your face as your eyes were cracked shut with your mouth slightly opened. He knew very well that he could’ve done a better job at making you feel pleasure. You wouldn’t have been this quiet. Your quiet moans that he was able to pick up with his sensitive ears, he felt that they were too pretty to be quiet. He hadn’t seen you around before. To have some type of mystery in his life, he didn’t mind. He didn’t know what your favorite color was, he didn’t know what made you cry and what made you laugh. In his mind, you were the perfect stranger. He was about to back away, that’s when your eyes opened. They were hooded, but he felt that they were beautiful as they looked into his.

His world stopped. He couldn’t move. You were trapped in his eyes as you stared at the handsome face that watched you be in a bear hug from Embry.

Paul’s wolf growled lowly and dangerously. It trickled out of his mouth. You felt like you were cheating on someone and Embry was confused by your paused response.

“Y/N…Whats wrong?”

You only push him away, stumbling away from him. Paul backed away some from the doorway, hearing Embry asking you again what’s wrong.

Paul rested his back against the hallway wall as his fists were clenched. His wolf howled with claim of you. Another man, another wolf, had their hands on you. That’s supposed to be him. He was supposed to make you feel tingles from the top of your head to the balls of your feet.

Embry followed you out of the room after you speedily adjusted your swim suit. Embry stopped in his tracks when he saw Paul in the hallway. So did you.

Paul glared at Embry as if he personally offended him.

“What the fuck, Paul? You were watching?” Embry raised his arms a bit, furrowing his eyebrows.

That was his name.

Paul.

You mentally tucked it in your brain to remember it.

“I was not watching. Sam’s gonna be pissed that you were fucking in his house.” Paul threw out. Fucking someone who is his imprint.

“What’s it to you?”

“Everything.” Paul says as he gets more and more agitated.

Embry scoffed and took your hand. You watch Paul’s eyes look down at the joined hands and you take it out of his, putting it a bit behind your back. Paul smirked at Embry’s hurt expression.

Embry was always observant, he saw the way Paul looked at you. How he stripped you with only his eyes.

“She’s my girlfriend. Mind your business.” Embry warned.

Twenty four hours earlier, you would’ve been beaming and jumping at the sound of Embry claiming you, but it felt wrong. All wrong.

Paul didn’t like the sound of the word “my” coming out of Embry’s mouth. It sounded wrong. All wrong.

That’s when, Paul shoved Embry. Hard.

“Yeah. Fucking your girlfriend in someone else’s house, real fucking romantic. What happened to a real date?” Paul bitterly spoke out with an expression that was scowled.

Embry shoved him back, Paul’s back hit the wall. Paul huffed as they both lunged for each other.

You gasp with widened eyes as they both tackled each other. Jumping over them, you ran down the stairs. Searching for anybody in the backyard, you scream out.

“Embry is upstairs fighting with…Paul.” You say and you pause after saying Paul’s name. It sounded graceful from your lips. You barely registered people getting up and running past you to meet where they were.

You heard yelling and commotion from the home. Emily gives you a concerned look. You look down, feeling to be cause of such brawl but, you couldn’t find a reason to blame yourself.

Embry stormed out soon enough, grabbing your hand. His eyes were hardened.

“We’re leaving.”

“We just got here.” You say as you felt a bit sad, you wanted to stay. You felt like you needed to stay.

“Don’t grab her like that. She’s my imprint.” You heard a deep voice bell out.

You didn’t know what an imprint was. But, you did know, it had something to do with Paul.

A burst of butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you grew hot in the face. Paul had his arms crossed, looking deeply disapproving of the joined hands. You slipped your hand back out of Embry’s hand.

“She’s not! It’s a mistake!” Embry exclaimed with great frustration.

“Our spirit warriors make no mistake.” Paul says in a taunting manner. Embry clench his jaw as you move away from Embry, Paul stepping closer.

“Stay. Away. From. Her.” Embry threatened.

“How about you stay away from her.” Paul threatened back, taking menacing steps towards him. The spike of excitement within you was shameful, but you forgot to soak in the shame.

A man, older than them all, stopped the man named Paul. He had his hand on his chest and that’s when Paul paused his steps, but didn’t pause his glare. The mature man thrusted his thumb behind himself, gesturing towards the home.

“Embry, how about you take a breather.” He suggested.

“Sam-”

“Take a breather. Then, come back.” but the way that the man named Sam had said it, did not leave it open for no discussion.

“Y/N, how about we take a dip in the pool?” Emily came over to encourage, trying to lighten the mood up. The other boys were making their way back to the pool. One boy flipped into the pool and the other one resumed the upbeat music.

“Sure.” You answer quietly as you let her link your arm with yours.

You look behind yourself as you walked towards the pool that contained pool toys and activities. Embry glared at Paul before entering back into the home.

Paul looked at you as if it was his duty to make sure nothing happened to you. You felt like you were floating. It felt like time had stopped and you didn’t want to ever go back to before, when things were normal. You wanted this to be your new normal. You wanted to uncover the deep mystery with this man named Paul. You wanted to let him know that he was worth it. That he deserved you. That he was the perfect stranger.

[miwiheroes]

The Love Monologue + El's Arc

This is another post going onto my byler slides :)))

So today I wanted to talk about how the Love monologue is not a closer to El's arc like a lot of Milkvan shippers think it was. To me, a lot of them seem to look at this monologue in a black and white way - she was about to die and Mike spoke to her and then she escaped the vines so that means he loves her and she needed him to say it. This take is very surface level and barely seems to acknowledge all that El has been through in S4, instead just taking note of how she's interacted with Mike.

She's been apart from Mike this whole time for a reason - she needs to figure out who she is, she needs to learn to love herself. To me, that is her main arc in the entire show. Finding a family who loves her unconditionally, but also finding the strength to love herself instead of pleading for kindness from others.

Her arc with Papa in this show, to me, clearly goes:

Papa uses El to get what he wants: To find a gate to the UD to find Henry

He manipulates her into doing this by only showing her the love she needs when she does what he wants: Locks her away when she refuses to use her powers. Shows love when she improves her powers.

In s4, he poses himself as the only one who would ever accept her for causing everything: Takes her into the lab but still blames her for being manipulated by Henry. Implying she needs him for her own sense of self-worth.

In the end she says that he is in fact the monster and she is not to blame: Therefore meaning she doesn't need outward love from Papa to believe she is useful.

Papa had trapped her with a collar. When he's almost dead in the desert at the Byers-Hopper reunition thing, he is the one to open back up the collar. He says I'm proud of you. He says I've only ever wanted to help you. But this isn't as an act of love. It's all an act of self-preservation - just like all the other times he 'showed' love towards her. It was all for his gain. He hoped that she still had some guilt inside her to save him. He hoped she still had that desire for him to validate her inside him.

But she doesn't. She walks away. She says goodbye as an act of self-love. She doesn't need him anymore, she's not guilty about feeling like the monster anymore.

And since Papa is literally paralleled with Mike in the same Season?

Well. We can say that her arc with him is very different, but similar but in the sense that Mike gives her normalcy, makes her feel good about her powers but only when they save people or don't hurt anyone. He doesn't do it on purpose, but he inadvertently makes El feel like she needs his approval at the beginning of the season.

Mike's not an abusive figure, but her old abusive childhood means she pleads for unconditional love from Mike in order to calm her insecurities about being a Monster.

She creates an ideal version of herself for Mike at the beginning of this season because she doesn't have powers anymore which is what he puts her on a pedestal for, and continues to. Even during the monologue.

When that ideal image is shattered by her attacking Angela, Mike shows his disgust. And she breaks down, revealing why she felt the need to create the idealised version: she wanted Mike to love her. And why did she want her to love him? So she doesn't feel like a monster which is how Brenner made her feel. FUCK MAN-

She needs to stop tying her self-worth to men.

Anyways, so what I'm saying through all this is that El, after all that was said and done with Papa, it should be clear to the audience now that she doesn't need outward love to make her feel like she isn't a monster. She needs self-love.

Now, I wanted to point out something that I find interesting. In the scene in SBP where Mike and El joke around and then El gets kind of serious: I believe she was going to let him down easy and she knew he was going to as well.

Hear me out. Watch this scene. Can you image this carrying onto end up being Mike saying "I love you" at the end?

Mike's facial expressions of sadness and remorse, like he's about to apologise instead. El's faces of quiet sadness at the mention of their fight (it's a fight you can't come back from remember) - and how she says 'I missed you' like she's trying to cheer him up before saying something?

He breathes a sigh of relief because she's not mad. Meaning: he can apologise instead of feeling the need to do what she was mad at him for not doing!!! Now that he knows she's not mad at him for the fight, he can now begin to talk to her about the truth and "explain" himself.

The music has quiet, wistful, almost bittersweet notes to it that indicate not something hopeful like an I love you that we 'wanted'.

If this was supposed to be an "I love you" moment, then why did him saying it later seem like such a big deal? Why did Will need to be the one to push him to do it?

And besides, he gets interrupted, leaving the viewers to guess what they were actually going to do, making his love monologue seem different to what he was actually going to say here. And we know that without Will, the monologue would never have happened.

So now, we get to the monologue.

This is what we know already: the conclusion of El's arc with Papa in this season is her not needing him to feel good about herself and feel validated. She lets him go. Then, she meets up with Mike and starts a conversation that seems bittersweet rather than about them loving each other. Mike also suspects that El doesn't need him anymore - but Will, not knowing about El's true feelings or anything, sacrifices his own feelings to save their relationship and says Mike is the heart of the party and El's saviour.

So when Will again tells him this in a crucial moment where it seems like al is lost - Mike reverts what he was going to do in the earlier quieter scene and instead tells her what he believes he should.

And this is her reaction:

Yeah. I have another post on here about how this moment isn't supposed to read as satisfying or an amazing turning point, but from everything in El's story this season, Mike telling her that he loves her just......doesn't feel like what she needs???

In this scene, she's literally being told by Henry that it is all her fault that he is the way he is, manipulating her into thinking that she is at fault for even the mind flayer and Will's disappearance etc. Then he tells her that he's now going to kill all her friends because they've all already lost, so he makes her "watch" as he kills Max.

The whole time as El's listening to Mike talking, she has her eyes closed, she looks extremely afraid still, and nothing is happening. The vines are still tightening around her throat for like 3 minutes of this monologue - We have learned from her arc this season that she is trying to realise that she is not a monster by herself. She doesn't need Papa to think she is useful, she doesn't need Mike to love her to love herself.

Which is why the love monologue doesn't work until El looks at Max and is reminded to Fight.

Compare the pic of El above this one to this pic of El. They have practically the same expression except her eyes are open. The first pic is from the beginning of the monologue and this one is from the end. El's emotions never fucking changed until she looked over at Max. She was afraid the whole time - and then boom. Not anymore:

She was able to get herself out of the vines because she is reminded to fight and that she is good at fighting - she uses self-confidence to get out. Not Mike's words about her being a Superhero which overexaggerate and idealise her again just like in the love monologue.

This girl:

Is in a completely different place than this girl:

So that's why Mike saying the exact same things about being a superhero does not mean the monologue at face value is a good arc closer for El this season. Well, clearly not for the world, because El "lost" which are Mike's own words he later says at the end of the season.

Hopefully this made sense <3

[nekoboydreams]

Hello (\*´▽｀)ノノ!! I've recently become obsessed with the yandere game you created! It's ignited such an uncontrollable desire in me—I can barely hold myself back! I'm absolutely dying to write a fanfiction based on *The Freak Circus*. But before that, I wanted to ask for your permission, because I truly don't want to offend or trouble you in any way...If it's okay, may I ask you a few questions?

① If Pierrot were to be voiced in the future, what do you think his voice would sound like? And what kind of tone and voice would best suit Harlequin, considering his character? Knowing this would be a huge help to my writing.

② Also, the circus food! Does it have mind-controlling, thought-distorting properties? Could it possibly amplify the eater's deepest desires, growing more intense over time until those poor souls completely lose their self-awareness—becoming obsessed with the circus and the clowns who perform for them? I also suspect the female assistant who was killed by one of Pierrot’s thrown knives might be one of the captured victims. She’s probably really dead. And what if she was actually one of the player’s missing colleagues? That would mean all those missing women in the town might be connected... OMG 🙀🙀🙀

③ Suppose the player has a strong self-destructive tendency and often keeps to themselves outside of necessary social situations. How would Pierrot react to this? Would he feel worried—or secretly delighted? And if one day the player collapses to the ground, quietly crying while clinging to Pierrot's clothes and begging him to kill them, what would he do? Especially if they said things like, “Only dying by your hand could bring me peace,” or “My darling, my savior, please kill me and eat me, so you’ll never leave me and I can finally rest.” Would Pierrot be moved?This is my first time asking, and I couldn’t help but say so much…!! I really hope I didn’t bother you 😔🤗🥰

Wow, I’m really glad to hear all this! And I’m impressed by the length of your questions, haha! Feel free to write as much as you want I’d love to see it! Now, about your questions:

About the voices: A lot of people ask me this, but since I’m not a native English speaker, I don’t have a huge repertoire of voices for them. What I can try to explain is that Pierrot would have a calm voice when talking to the MC, maybe slightly hoarse from being silent so much. When he makes those kind of disturbing statements to the MC, I imagine his voice thickens a bit. As for Harlequin, he has a sarcastic, somewhat mocking tone. His voice probably wouldn’t be that deep, although his laugh carries a dark, deep tone. Does that make sense to you? If I find voices that fit them in some content, I could do a post about it, since it’s a question that keeps coming up, haha.

About the food: You have some interesting theories. On Day 2, you’ll see Pierrot talk a bit about it. So what I can say for now is that the food can put you into a euphoric state. It gets hard for whoever eats it to think clearlythings get confusing, and you might start misinterpreting stuff. The MC feels their heart racing and isn’t sure if it’s because they likes Pierrot, for example.

Self-destructive tendencies: That opens up a lot of possible reactions for Pierrot! If he sees the MC isolating themself but they’re okay with it, then to him there’s no problem there. But if the MC isolates themself and seems to be suffering from things like that, he’d get worried and try to help, but in his own way. He’s not very social either, so his way of helping wouldn’t be very conventional. Now, about the MC asking to be devoured, that’s a complicated threshold. Pierrot isn’t the type of yandere to hurt the MC intensely, but there could be a scenario where he’d fulfill that request. It’s something very specific, so let’s just say it’s not something I can to detail right now heh.

[strawbairicake]

hallo Lia, before i say anything else i think i should apologize for taking so long to submit a request for your event—i kept either forgetting or endlessly second-guessing any draft of an ask i came up with because i didn’t want to end up annoying you, i hope you can forgive me :((

since it’s so late i completely understand if you don’t want to write this (especially if you aren’t interested in the idea), but would it be ok for me to request aventurine and a merman/merfolk au? i think it would be interesting to see him attempt (keyword: attempt) to court a human reader, but feel free to change the concept however you like ! thank you in advance, have a great day ♡

part of your world -aventurine x reader (mermaid/merfolk au!)

synopsis: the cute guy that mysteriously came ashore the beach is really intriguing, isn’t he?

warnings: none, it’s pure fluff! might be ooc though, apologies for that!

word count: 498

author’s note: yes the title was from the song from the little mermaid. no, i don’t have any regrets or better title names. anyway, thank you for requesting, Ruu! please don’t hesitate to come say hello or drop a request in my inbox! no beta, we die like my hopes n’ dreams /lh! would love to hear more from you! hopefully this idea fits (and maybe exceeds) your expectations; hope you enjoy! <3

book n’ dash event

tagging: @cmiru

acquiring human legs after having a mermaid tail all your life is quite the flex. that’s what Aventurine thought anyway. he had just washed up to shore when you came running over to him, in quite the panic.

“oh my gosh, are you okay? where did you come from?” you asked as you approached him. and Aventurine felt like he had come down with an ailment: he couldn’t speak, think, move (not that he tried any of these things). he was just frozen. god you were so pretty, did you know that?

“washed… up,” Aventurine replies, somewhat stunned at his lack of being able to form words. you nod, seemingly understanding what he said (you didn’t understand) and trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t want to overwhelm him, either.

“where are you from?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

“the ocean. why?”

“okay… how did you get here, friend?” you asked.

friend… such a safe and comforting word. he knows you didn’t slip the word out intentionally. it was a speaking before thinking moment but you didn’t seem to regret or take back the word. 

“i… don’t know. i’m just… here.” he replies. you nod again. 

“i’m (name), nice to meet you. come with me, I’ll help you get on your feet. two more questions, can you understand what i’m saying? and what's your name?” 

“I’m Aventurine, and i can understand you well.”

satisfied with his answer, you help him off the sandy beach, giving him a towel you were carrying earlier. you help him wrap it around his waist and start walking to your apartment, not far from the beach luckily. you both make the short trek back to your home and you let him settle in before overwhelming him with more questions and activities for you to do.

“once you’re comfortable and dressed, we’re going to go to the mall and get you some clothes, okay?” 

“sure, thank you.” 

And so you were off. you headed to the mall, and got to the clothing store for your new friend. you let him pick out whatever he wanted. but before you both left the store, a small pearl bracelet caught his eye. 

“(Name), look,” Aventurine points to the bracelet.

“what’s wrong?” you ask as you see where his finger’s pointing, “oh, the bracelet? we can get it!” and as the nice clerk gets it out of the display and grabs it for you. you check out and head back to your apartment.

“what’s with the interest in the bracelet?” you asked him after he sat down on your couch.

“it’s a sign of loyalty and love in the mermaid language. you’ve also been kind to me.”

your breath hitched, and you gulp a bit nervously, “and?” 

“and even though we’ve just met, i want you to have it.” he says as he pushes the box to you. you think this cute mermaid-turned human is sticking around for a while longer.

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[etherealwitcherys-blog]

New Moon in Cancer ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯

June 25th, 2025

The New Moon in Cancer this evening is all about emotional renewal and trusting your intuition. Cancer energy naturally pulls us toward home, comfort, and the people we care about the most. This new moon is a powerful time to set intentions around healing, whether that's old family patterns, relationship dynamics, or just giving yourself permission to feel your feelings without judgment. The new moon gives us a clean slate, and Cancer's nurturing energy points out that growth happens for us when we feel safe and supported. Pay attention to what your gut is telling you right now!

Spell Work for This New Moon

Home Protection Ritual Light a white candle in each room (or carry one around). As you do, set the intention that your space is protected and peaceful. Let each candle burn for at least 30 minutes while you tidy or just sit quietly in each room.

Emotional Release Bath Add a handful of sea salt and rose petals to your bath water, and set a moonstone crystal nearby if you have one. Soak for at least 20 minutes and let yourself feel whatever comes up.

Family Harmony Spell Write your intentions for family relationships on dried bay leaves. Burn them safely in a fireproof bowl/cauldron, focusing on sending love rather than trying to control outcomes. Keep a window open to let the smoke carry your intentions out.

Self-Love Jar Get a small jar and layer in rose quartz chips, written self-affirmations folded up small, and dried rose petals. Keep it on your nightstand or altar as a reminder. Add new affirmations whenever you think of them!

Water Blessing Leave a jar of water outside or on a windowsill overnight during the new moon. Use this charged water in future spell work, add drops to your drinks for intention, or use it to anoint candles and crystals.

3-Card New Moon Spread

1. What to release - Old emotional patterns you're ready to let go of. 2. What needs nurturing: Where to focus your care and attention. 3. New beginning: What's ready to grow in your life?

Crystal Recommendations

Moonstone: Divine feminine, new beginnings Rose Quartz: Self-love, emotional healing Aquamarine: Calm emotions, clear communication Selenite: Cleansing, lunar connection Pearl: Wisdom through experience Prehnite: Heart healing, unconditional love

Place on your altar, carry with you, or meditate with during the new moon!

Journal Prompts

What part of my emotional self needs extra love right now?

How can I create more comfort and safety in my life?

What old emotional patterns am I ready to release?

In what ways can I better nurture myself and others?

What do I want to plant seeds for in my personal relationships

How can I trust my intuition more deeply?

What does "home" mean to me, and how can I honor that?

Simple New Moon Rituals

Cleansing Bath Add sea salt, milk, and rose petals to wash away what no longer serves you.

Intention Candle Carve goals into a white/silver candle, let it burn while focusing on your intentions.

Letter to Future Self Write your hopes and dreams, seal to open at the Full Moon.

Moon Water Place water outside or on a windowsill overnight to charge.

New Moon Cancer Affirmations

"I deserve love and care, especially from myself."

"My intuition guides me toward my highest good."

"I create a safe, loving space wherever I go."

"I am planting seeds of healing and growth."

"My heart is open to receive abundance."

"I trust my gut feelings and intuition."

Repeat during meditation or write in your journal.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

XII. the come down.

parts: previously plot: It all feels nauseatingly familiar. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mentions of violence, blood, bruises, cuts, domesticity. words: 6.6k.

a/n: good evening rprt nation!! I know it's been a hot minute, and this chapter was especially difficult as there were a lot of thoughts to be had about things you will see later. for now, I hope you enjoy.

It'd been so long since it hurt like this.

It's hard enough getting out of the club. Frankie's girlfriend—Tallulah? Delilah?—is chirping in his ear about how much trouble she's going to be in. Dimitri would've left her behind if she wasn't the only thing keeping him upright, her body wobbling in heels not meant for carrying half-dead sacks of shit across uneven pavement.

Still, she manages. She gets him in a car—Hers? A cab?—and they're moving. He feels cold all over; if it wasn't for the sweat, he'd be able to figure out how much of the wetness clinging to his shirt was blood loss. He could taste the tang of it in the backseat, and if this was a cab, the driver would've dropped him off at the ER hours ago.

Hours? Had it been hours?

Dimitri forces his head to lull toward the window. The car is moving too fast to tell what street they're on, and so much has changed since Arkham. General wasn't close to the Lounge, there's no way they'd drop him off there. Wouldn't that have been lucky? Seeing you? They'd handcuff him to the bed as you dig your fingers into the hole in his stomach, let the blood gush and slicken the intrusion until you could fit your hand in his gut, reach up through his ribcage, and fist his heart into jelly.

He would gnash at you all the while as they held him down. As you stitched him up and pronounced him dead on arrival. As they called you brave.

The car jolts over a pothole and he accidentally bites his tongue. Dimitri makes a noise. Whoever's driving says something, though he couldn't fathom what it was when every sound of the city was blaring at him through the back door.

At one point, he thinks he's lost all the blood he can carry, and then he's cold again.

He doesn't realize the car has stopped until he face plants into gravel, left there to flounder for a while, and then he's hoisted up on his feet and forced to stand. The person holding him up this time is taller than Delilah, broader, taking the weight of him with no issue. Dimitri practically drags across the ground into the dark twists and turns of an alley, down stairs, past sea breeze. The salt is distinctly familiar. They go down more stairs and then he face plants into concrete.

He can scarcely hear voices, all whispering at first, before turning into shouting. Dust is kicked up into his face seconds before he feels something tied snug around his eyes. The whole world goes dark, and he has time to recognize the sagging weight of his body. How good it would be to stay lying there.

As his tongue loosens in his mouth, Dimitri feels one arm hook under each of his own, dragging him low to the ground, over a threshold.

It goes on for a while, over bumps and dips in the floor. Blood drips out of his mouth the whole way, no doubt leaving a trail to be smudged by his dragged body. He's conscious enough to recognize the twists and turns, having mapped them in his mind countless times before. They turn a corner and his foot bumps the door frame (it thuds like the metal doors that lock up this hideout) and as he predicts, seconds later, he is dropped to the floor again.

Even if he didn't map his way, he knew the smell of the Czar's court. The cat piss was overwhelming.

"I guess I was wrong about you." Dimitri could also smell the nicotine when he talked, all the way from where he lay. "You don't need papa and his fancy drugs, do you?"

Dimitri feels something downy soft brush against his arm, a tail dragging along his neck before disappearing completely. He spits up onto the ground. It smells bloody enough that he thinks the Czar won't take it personally.

His blindfold is removed seconds later, and then he's hoisted up onto his knees at the throne of the Czar. The man has one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, a hand on a crystal glass. The suit he wears hangs ghostly over his skeletal body, poorly tailored. When he was younger, Dimitri used to think that's just how suits looked on grown men.

When the Czar leans forward to get in his face, Dimitri's face is reflected in the round lenses of his sunglasses. "A little training and you could actually be good at this." The Czar casts his gaze to the right of Dimitri, and while the blood vessel in that eye is busted, he figures Frankie must be the one he's looking at. "How'd it go?"

The Czar doesn't know. Dimitri's Adam's apple bobs in his throat on a particularly rough swallow.

"It... it didn't, boss."

The Czar tilts his head and Dimitri flinches, expecting the hit that usually came with that look. It doesn't come, but it feels imminent. "Hm?"

"He couldn't kill her. She got away."

He struggles for a smile. It comes and goes and comes and goes over the course of a few seconds, as if he was repeatedly forgetting and remembering what Frankie had just said to him.

It goes on for so long that Dimitri is fixating on the Czar's salt and pepper ponytail when his cheek hits the ground. It's a blazing heat spreading along his jaw, which is then swiftly replaced with head-numbing throbbing. He thinks something might've broken in his jaw, but the Czar's foot is on his other cheek now so he can't dare to check.

He's saying something else. He knows it, can feel the rumble in the air, but his ears are ringing too loud. The foot only slips off his face when he's grabbed from behind, hoisted up onto his knees again, and something is touching his neck. Squeezing it. He's been choked.

Dimitri's hands fly to the noose tied around his neck, but there's a foot on his back that's keeping him from leaning into the pull. He can see the Czar again through blood-soaked eyelashes—still talking in warbled sentences—and Dimitri wonders if it's even for him to hear. Was he barking orders at his men to dispose of his body in the river after they choked the life out of him? Somewhere far away from the hideout, where the GCPD couldn't trace tonight back to them?

Black starts to dot his vision when the noose is released and he falls to the floor in a fit of coughs, spitting up onto the concrete.

He's allowed those few seconds of respite, but then his jaw is being grabbed and he's being forced to look at the Czar again. His slick ponytail has a few loose hairs now. "You're just like your sister," The Czar says that loud and clear over the ringing, "can't fucking finish what you started."

Dimitri wants to kill him. Above all, he wants to die trying. That's how it always goes when he thinks about Nat. But he's got several broken bones all resisting, fingers barely strong enough to make a fist before falling open once more.

"I oughtta kill you where you stand." It doesn't sound like the Czar's gonna do it. It sounds like he'd made up his mind already, but on what? "But you've been doing good, keeping that Bat preoccupied. Frankie here says you didn't take the venom. Why not?" Dimitri splutters, wanting to form a defense, but the Czar cuts right through it, "Why not? You wanted to prove yourself? Prove to me that you could handle it all on your own? Prove it to Natasha?"

Natalie. Natalie, Natalie, Natalie, I love you, Natalie.

He feels himself being jerked around a bit. The Czar toys with him, "I knew you before your balls even dropped, kid. You were a punk coward then and you're a coward now. The only difference is that you get a little Irish courage in you and suddenly... suddenly you know how to throw a punch. What happened?"

It takes a lot out of him to get it out, "We fought... she was ready... almost... killed me..."

"You're dying right now, kid. Look at what you're doing to my nice shoes." Dimitri can't, the grip on his jaw won't let him. "What then? She just... left?"

Frankie speaks up from somewhere in a corner, "The place got cleared out. She was escorted out of the building and my— my contact sneaked Dimitri out a back way, before anyone could find him."

"But she saw him?"

"No, sir. We don't think so... she was high on drops and he attacked her in the bathroom. Covered up. I don't think she would've gotten a good look at him sober."

Silence hangs over them after that. The Czar continues to hold Dimitri's jaw, turning it this way and that, looking over his bloodied and bruised face. If it weren't for the pain in his jawbone, he'd be thankful he wasn't—

And then, he's dropped to the floor again. It's not as bad as the first time, all things considered. He can hear the Czar telling his men to gather intel from their guys in the GCPD, telling Frankie to bring a wet rag for his shoes. All the while Dimitri lays there, slowly losing consciousness. His stomach turns at the thought that he might be left here all night until his heart gives out.

"I might still kill you in the morning," the Czar informs him, "We'll see what the news says. That was our deal, wasn't it? You cause me more trouble than you're worth..." Dimitri doesn't have to finish it. He remembers what the Czar told him. The Czar must see the recognition in his eyes because he smiles down at him, almost fondly, "You do listen. Wouldn't that make Natasha so proud?"

Your neck is killing you. Your back is killing you. Your shoulder, your hip even. It aches when you stir from sleep, the surface beneath you unrelenting, and it becomes clear why everything hurts. Your fingers graze carpet, fibers pulled taut and rough to the touch. Beneath is solid ground. You'd fallen asleep on the floor.

Granted, you remembered falling asleep on something softer. Your head is propped up on a pillow at least, and there's something keeping the cold away from the shoulders down. You open one eye and find that you are laying on the floor, face turned toward your bedroom door down the hall. You can tell by how much the sunlight is hurting your eyes that it's early morning, and that you're alone.

Memories of the night before filter in little by little—stinging you, arousing you. Judging by the cold space beside you, you were alone.

You were certain of that, at least, for a whole ten seconds before the sounds started filtering in too. A consistent sizzle pushes you to look around, your eyes falling on the front door where you see your fancy shoes neatly tucked next to a pair of large, black boots.

You flip onto your other side and there is a half-naked man cooking at your stove.

You know that back, you've threaded needle through skin there. The muscles roll as he moves from one thing to another, and while you can't always see what he's doing, you can smell seared tomatoes and strong coffee. You just lay there like that for a few minutes, propped up on your elbow, watching Bruce navigate your cabinets and flip omelettes in your pans. Every once in a while, he takes a sip from his— your mug. He drinks quietly.

When the sizzling slows, you begin to panic. Should you pretend to still be asleep? Maybe you should tiptoe to the bathroom, put off the conversation you were bound to have until you'd brushed your teeth and washed yourself of what happened last night. But before you get the chance, Bruce is guiding an omelette onto a plate and turning toward you. He sets the plate down on the breakfast table (where he'd revealed himself to you), followed by another one of your mugs. He barely glances at your face as he calls out, "Breakfast's ready."

Had you died? Had you been isekai'd to an alternate world where last night wasn't your first entanglement with him, and making you breakfast after was routine? Expected? His normalness is so pressuring that you abandon all thoughts of cleaning up or hiding and take a seat at the table.

Bruce isn't far behind. He refills his mug with coffee from your coffee maker, brings over his own breakfast (decorated with blueberries and raspberries you'd forgotten you had in the fridge), and sits down by your side. A quick glance into your mug and you see your coffee just how you like it. Bruce starts eating without conversation, so you do too.

It's... awkward. You eat quietly, cringing when fork meets plate a little too loudly, but Bruce pays no mind. He looks out the kitchen window at the sunny skyline, at birds flying by with all the freedom in the world. He eats slowly, mannerly, like how a Wayne must've been taught to.

You get about halfway through your omelette before you start stalling, pushing around bits of cheese on your plate with the back of your fork. You're trying to figure out what to say and how to say it, but just as soon as you figure it out, your words crash right into his.

"This doesn't have to mean anything—" "—meet your parents."

For the first time since waking, Bruce and you lock eyes.

You feel yourself flush. You squirm in your seat but it... hurts, and you watch his expression shift minutely. "Uh... what'd you say?"

Bruce looks at your half-eaten omelette next, expression mostly neutral. He looks like he'd rather not repeat what he said now.

In hindsight, you'd admittedly overshot on what all the normalness meant. You try to salvage it, "How'd you sleep last night?"

As if just remembering, he stretches his back, grumbling. "Like shit."

You grimace. You echo a similar sentiment, "Same." It's silent again. It goes on for so long that you feel yourself getting jittery in your seat, and Bruce looks like he doesn't want to be the one to break the silence again. "This is really good, by the way."

"It's the first thing my father taught me how to make, only thing Alfred says I cook better than him."

You snort, some of the tension leaving your shoulders at that. "I guess one day I'll have to compare and contrast."

You expect Bruce to play along, but he just takes a drink from his cup. The awkwardness begins to seep in again, and his eyes flit to yours for a brief moment, gauging your thoughts before he speaks again. "I tested the anti-venom last night. It needs a few tweaks but it works."

You freeze. "Dimitri didn't...?"

At that, Bruce fiercely shakes his head, meeting your gaze. "A bouncer at the Lounge who took it off him. They were siphoning off the goods when I found them."

"So Dimitri definitely wasn't on it when he went after Mathers."

"They gave me the name of a dealer too, someone they've gone to before. Most people on the streets don't deal venom because it's too volatile, which means the ones that do are in high demand. If I find the dealer, I find the source."

You look over Bruce's body, noting the scars you'd discovered on him last night. They looked more gruesome now that his skin wasn't blushing underneath them. "That's why you were late." He doesn't need to say it, but you can feel it. You should've always known he had a good reason, that it would take a lot more for him to stop bothering you than this. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I should've known you had a good reason to go MIA like that and I shouldn't have responded so..." You glance up at him, and his eyes are squarely on you with no sign of wavering, "...aggressively." You're shocked when he chuckles. "It was selfish of me to just throw that on you. So, if you want to pretend it didn't happen, it didn't happen."

Bruce hums. "It was pretty aggressive."

You look away with burning ears. "Bruce."

"You don't need to apologize. It looked like you needed it."

Your eyes snap to his, frowning, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's pretty clear you've been stressed. This is something people do when they're stressed, isn't it?" He takes another sip of his coffee. How had he not finished that fucking thing already?

"Well... well yeah, but most people I do this with aren't my boss."

"I'm not your boss anymore, I'm your boyfriend." His expression is still neutral, but you note the little twinkle in his eye when you sputter in response. "If anyone asks, anyway."

You want to wring his strong neck. "Speaking of which, because you were late we never made it official. How do you plan to rectify that, genius?"

He pointedly ignores the embarrassment disguised as frustration in your tone, "I'll figure something else out. Thanksgiving isn't that romantic of a holiday, anyway. We'd probably poll better in December."

Poll better? Did he have to be so clinical about it? "Fine." And then you, angrily, go back to your omelette, no longer caring how the fork clangs against the plate with each bite taken. Bruce doesn't say anything else either, just finishes his mug off and goes to rinse it out.

When he starts on the empty coffee pot, you decide to broach the awkward subject from earlier, "What were you saying about my parents?"

Bruce pauses in cleaning out the coffee pot. He's back to avoiding your eyes again. "I was just wondering if you had plans for Thanksgiving next week."

You weren't sure. You'd worked plenty of Thanksgivings in the past, or you met up with your roommates or Em for Friendsgiving and did the obligatory "I love you" calls to your parents before the night ended. The few times you had popped over for dinner with them had been uncomfortable, extended family who hadn't seen you in years poking at the Alex wound with knives. Parents showing you apartments nearby. Baby cousins warned against you as the problem child your parents had really struggled with back in the day, or the example that "See, kids? Even when you fuck up, it's never too late to turn your life around!".

It was easier to just grab takeout and spend it alone.

"I haven't thought about it. Why?"

"Alfred misses big Thanksgivings and we never have anyone to invite, but if you're not busy, he could always justify putting on an egregiously large turkey."

Oh, Alfred misses it? You highly doubted you were at the top of his list of people he wanted at Thanksgiving. "And you were thinking my parents might want to come."

"Do they visit?" Bruce turns to look at you, rinsing out the pot, and you can see the contained curiosity beneath the surface. It was fascinating how he usually managed to do away with all of that when donning the mask, but now, present in your kitchen, half-bare to the world, he hesitated. Perhaps it felt more real asking this as Bruce, not Batman.

"Not if they can help it. They'd much rather me be in Jersey with them.''

Bruce sets the dripping pot to the side, wiping his hands on your dish towel. He really looked rather homey here. "Maybe they'd come if I invited them."

"Who said I wanted them here?" Bruce prickles at the edge to your tone, and you're both awash with guilt at once. Before he can say anything, you add on, "They're not like your parents were for you, Bruce. We don't have the same... fondness." You feel like it's a little unfair to call the relationship between them "fond". There was no other way for him to feel toward parents who died long before they could see him differently. Bruce's parents never got to see him act out, or make life-altering decisions that rippled across time. They died remembering him as a little boy, believing they had so much time ahead with him.

And perhaps they would've turned out like yours, pressuring him to be the head of the company—carrying on their monumental legacy—and being the son they'd envisioned long before he took his first breath. Maybe they wouldn't have known what to do with him when he inevitably rebelled, except throw cash at it and hope it went away. Maybe that Bruce would've been a bit like you, even just a little bit.

But maybe in his eyes, you already were a bit like him. He'd alluded to as much; all your destructive behaviors and savior complexes all rolled up into one.

Bruce looks like he wants to refute that, but it's like the energy to do so is sapped right out of him then and there. The mood is souring at a rate you can't control.

You try to get up quietly but you jostle the table, making the forks clatter. You gather the dishes, carrying them to the sink, your arm brushing his. His skin is alarmingly cool. You glance up at him as you begin to rinse your plate, and he's already looking at you.

You're not sure what to call this. He'd joked that he was your boyfriend, and that was a word your mouth would need to get used to if you were going to do this right, but it didn't feel quite right for what you both were. Whatever you were supposed to be. Whatever you both wanted to be. "You never gave me a straight answer. About last night. Was that... something you wanted to happen?"

Bruce takes longer than you expected to think about it. The running water is starting to scald your fingers. "I haven't known what to do with you since I first met you," he admits, reaching for the sink and turning the temperature down, "every time, I think I've figured it out... and then I see you again."

"You... you usually look pretty sure of yourself these days."

"I don't have the luxury of hesitating with you. You might slip away."

You swallow. You feel choked now, throat dry and constricted. You feel a pinch in your belly as Bruce takes your dishes from you, deft fingers slipping a soapy sponge into your mug. "If it's any consolation, I don't really think I have it in me to... leave you alone."

Bruce laughs, gentle and sweet, "No shit."

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You held me hostage on that couch when we first met. Lecturing me to let you take care of me." Bruce points a fork at your living room, suds dripping on the counter.

"You could've died."

"I've been through worse."

You stutter. There's nothing left for you to do but flick soap at his face. Bruce flinches when it hits him, stares at you, and then breaks out into a smile so goofy that you can't help but laugh.

When all the dishes are clean, Bruce gives you something of an answer, "I don't know what I wanted to happen last night. I wanted to get to know you. I wanted you to trust me. I didn't have any plans for what happened after."

"Would you... want it to happen again?"

A beat passes. "Would you?"

A cop out if you've ever seen one. You run your tongue over your teeth as you recall last night. "I will admit... I do feel better having done it. I wouldn't hate if it happened again. What about you?" You cringe. Surely anyone would love to have their first hook-up with someone be described like that.

Bruce doesn't react like anyone else would, though. "It's been a while, I almost forgot how good it could feel." You almost preen at that, but keep yourself calm for the time being. "I could do it again."

"So... we're casual." Bruce's face scrunches up some, as if the word dissatisfies him. "What? You don't like that word? What else would you call us?"

"I don't know. I don't need a word for it."

Usually, that kind of statement would be a red flag to you. "Don't tell me you're the type that hates labels."

"I don't think there's a label for what... this is, but 'casual' isn't it." Your heart feels about ten pounds heavier. You're not sure what that means. "I just know I'd rather have you around."

"Is it because I'm always there to patch you up?" You joke.

"As if you'd let anyone else do it." It's said with the same joking tone, really. You don't know if the ringing of truth there is known to you alone, or if Bruce had clocked a vulnerability of yours before you'd accepted it yourself. What you do know is that it makes you... not as uncomfortable as you thought it would. Maybe before last night, it would have sent a ripple of discomfort down your spine. Today, whatever ugly thing that usually reared its head, that you couldn't name for so long, was sated. You'd given it what it wanted. You'd taken it for yourself, however messily, and something had shifted inside you. Righted itself.

Bruce hands you two vials—clinking, stumpy tubes of a violet hue. His desk light creates a purple glow against the palm of your hand, as mesmerizing as polished amethyst. You move them between your fingers, careful not to let them roll out and shatter.

"Version 2.0." Bruce announces.

"You are... terrifyingly smart." You whisper, slipping the vials into a pocket in your bag. "You came up with this in just two hours?"

You know he's trying to hide it, but you've studied him enough now to recognize the... pleasure in his tone when he responds. "It helps to see it up close, the symptoms. I can isolate the problem better that way. It neutralizes the venom with higher accuracy. Faster, too."

"Well, if venom gets any more popular, you should have Wayne Pharm patent it. We could use something like this."

"And... explain myself how, exactly?"

You lean your hip against his desk, smirking, "Concerned super-genius citizen tackling the drug trade?"

Something lights up in Bruce's eyes when you say the words "drug trade". He straightens his hunched posture. "Speaking of, there's something you need to know." Your eyebrow quirks but you don't respond otherwise. "After yesterday, I did some digging into Mathers. You already know she was Dimitri's judge, but Gordon thought it was a weak reason to go after her... all things considered." Bruce glances at you.

"I mean, she did put him away for life in Arkham. That's bound to be reason enough for anybody to wanna kill her."

"Yeah, but it was Dimitri's saving grace. The state would've given him the death penalty for killing a cop. An insanity plea for Arkham was the best his lawyer could get him, and he didn't even want it. Neither did Mathers at first."

"At first?"

You watch Bruce rise from his chemically volatile corner of the cave, instead heading for his computer. You watch him retrieve some documents, then promptly hand them to you. Your eyes flicker over the words as he explains, "Mathers wanted him dead for the cop-killing thing. She was staunchly pro-law enforcement, a real back-the-blue type, but then Dimitri's lawyer comes in with this insanity plea and suddenly she just... relents. Tells them to stick him somewhere he can rot, no parole."

"Well, she got what she wanted." You mutter, flipping through what looked to be dozens of newspaper clippings, scans of fluff pieces with Mathers and directors and presidents and CEOs of companies that were subsidiaries of subsidiaries. Pictures of her shaking hands with men and women, beaming smiles and pin curls.

"She'd get paid more if he died in there instead of on death row."

Your lips part to ask him what he means by that, when your eyes land on a headline that jumps out at you. Judge Mathers mid-joyful conversation with the director of Blackgate Penitentiary. It clicks in your mind then, cooling your suddenly flushed skin. You flip to another article and find her with the director of Arkham, and another prison, and another, and another. The words "Mathers: Tough on Crime, Tough for Gotham" begin to repeat like a mantra. A brand.

It clashed with the themes of Gotham Renewal, but it fit right into the picture the former mayor, Falcone, and plenty more had been painting since Thomas Wayne's death.

She was controversial but lauded; she put plenty of "bad" apples away during her last term, and that included the kids. And she was filthy-stinking rich because of it, if these pictures had anything to say about it.

"Russo's file said he fought hard to keep you and your friends out of the prison pipeline, but he fought hard for Dimitri and those other Vipers too. Cutting that deal for you four was all he could get... that, and a lawyer to take Dimitri's case pro bono."

You feel your fingers tremble a little. Images of Russo from years ago are blurry, though they're warm around the edges. A loving father. Of course he tried to fight for all of you.

"Russo wanted to give him a fighting chance with parole, but that didn't happen. And by the time Nat's killer testified, insanity was a lot easier to sell."

"What are you talking about? Dimitri got tried for killing that guy."

Bruce takes the documents away from you, setting them back on the desk. "He killed a cop, not that cop. The one that killed Nat got off with a suspension and a slap on the wrist, and Dimitri was livid. It's why insanity sold so well."

You shift, incredulous. "They just let him go?"

"It was a casualty. She shot first. That's all he had to report." You try to blink away your frustration, but your eyes burn all the same. You should've known better back then, leading the GCPD to the Vipers. It was bound to go bad the minute you let them get involved. "The GCPD have already gotten to him. He's in their custody for now. If there was anyone Dimitri would want dead the most, it'd be him."

You think how unfortunate it is that Russo had to be first. Maybe, had it been you, he'd have...

"I very well can't blame him for that." You twiddle your thumbs with nothing to hold onto now. "For any of us. But Russo—"

Bruce must see you beginning to spiral into self-deprecation, would-haves and should-haves, because he quickly cuts in, "We can talk about it more at dinner."

Your eyes flick up to his, confused, but he's already heading for his bike and helmet. He shrugs on a hefty military jacket that pads his already solid build, then shoves his helmet under his arm as he throws a leg over the seat of the bike. The monster of a thing is fully revved up and ready to go before he turns back to you again, watching you shift awkwardly by his desk. He looks like he wants to say something to you, something to comfort you. Walk you back from the ledge he'd seen you teeter over before.

Then, before he could think it through and before you could plaster on a brave face, he gets off the bike, takes a few long strides toward you, and... cradles you by the neck.

His large hand splays from neck to jawbone, fingers curling behind your head and propping your chin to meet his eyes—eyes that keep flitting between vulnerable and dissecting. You stand there, relishing in the warmth of another body now that you'd finally gotten a taste of it, and almost melt into it once the shock wears off.

You feel something bump your stomach. You break eye contact to see his helmet, poking you beneath the rib cage. You look back up at him, questioning.

Bruce's eyes soften at your innocent confusion. "Want a ride?"

You return to work as normal. Of course you hear everything there is to hear about Emily and her date with Bruce—the date that had yet to be planned—and the work gossip from your colleagues that you'd missed over the last few days. It feels weird talking to them now over the coffee machine, sharing mundanities and jokes like your life hadn't been put in danger several times over the past month.

If you reduced things down to their base parts, you supposed you weren't so different from them. They risked their lives too, constantly, just by nature of living in this area code. Some of them faced much more gruesome threats on their lives in the ER, and it was a blessing that you only had to experience that sometimes.

But once upon a time, a therapist you don't see anymore warned you not to downplay your own trauma. Something to do with "processing emotions".

You really wondered how Bruce did it; being Batman had to be more distressing than this. How did he keep life normal? Was life for a billionaire ever really normal?

Outside of that, though, no one was the wiser when it came to your "double-life". As far as your colleagues knew, you went through the same things they did every day. You ate, slept, came to work, and did it all over again. They didn't need to know anything else.

Around lunchtime, you've got back-to-back consultations with would-be patients. It feels good and methodical, the kind of thing you needed to help keep your mind occupied. For a few hours, you were a normal human dealing with normal humans, with questions that, more often than not, had answers.

It's nearing early evening when you finally begin to pack up your things from the examination room. Thoughts swim in your head about what Alfred's making for dinner, and you can't say you miss having to worry about those kinds of things—

You hear a faint click behind you, just as you finish corralling papers into your bag. It sounded like the door closing.

You pause, waiting for a colleague to ask if you were done in here, or mention grabbing something from the med cart, but all you hear is short, ragged breathing.

You're fast, but they're faster. The moment you spin around with your mace, your hand is seized, crushed in a slippery grip that's warm and rough and unfamiliar. Their face is shadowed by the hood of their jacket, but they're sizable and unknown to you. They grab your other wrist as it goes to swing at their head, forcing you back against the desk as it clatters against the wall. They force you back, sliding along the edge of the desk until you hit the wall. Your head bangs into the sharps box screwed there, but the force of shoving you against it makes their hood fall away. You're met with bloodshot, green eyes.

Seeing Dimitri isn't the only thing that shocks you. Had it not been for those eyes haunting you, you might not have recognized him right away. His face is swollen. Bruises and cuts litter his face and neck like he'd been beaten with intent to kill. Some of the cuts still bleed. Had Mathers done all this to him?

You realize too late that he's leaning his arm on your windpipe. A poor excuse for his name slips from your lips, the lack of oxygen accelerating your panic. His eyes frantically look from your own to your throat he's currently crushing. It's like he can't believe he's doing it, or like he can't believe it's finally you.

It's getting dire. You're seeing specks of black vignetting your vision. You look past his arm, down his hooded torso and as far down his legs as your eyes can reach. He shifts to keep applying pressure, and something about the way he does catches your quickly fading attention.

You force yourself to think. Your bag is too far away, and if you managed to reach into the sharps box behind you for a needle, it would take too long to get a solid grasp.

He's strong. Not as strong as he'd been that night at Russo's house, but strong enough that a de-oxygenated brain struggled to stand a fighting chance.

Dimitri shifts again, and your eyes focus on the way his left leg trembles. It's not nearly as sturdy as the other. And his left hand pins your arm against the wall, but it too trembles. All of him is trembling, really, but you try to force your arm off the wall and you watch it knock back into his side. Your eyes immediately catch the flinch in his muscles.

Your free hand, left to desperately claw at the arm choking you, makes a fist and goes straight for his stomach. He crumples instantly.

Your hit must've been hard or his injuries much more dire than first imagined, because even after several moments catching your breath, Dimitri is still cradling his stomach on the floor as if your knuckles were made of solid steel.

It gives you pause. He gasps and coughs up blood on the buffed tiles, wheezing for breath much more than you. The fall lifted his hoodie some and you see his mottled, purple skin underneath.

He doesn't remind you of that night. He took several hits from Bruce without pause, and while he'd been in much better shape then, the frenzy venom put people in was painless and pure: just your punch wouldn't have taken him down like this, not unless he was still off it. He had to have been off it, given the lack of security banging down the door. How else would he have slipped in so quietly?

You could mace him right now. There were zip ties in the med cart for sorting; you could tie his wrists to the examination table and get help. You could put an end to your nightmare in one swoop. You could put him away, or put him on death row. You could do it again.

Your feet stay planted where they are. He's laying between you and the door. You watch as he lowers his head to the ground, huffing and lips stained bloody. His eyes catch yours, daring you to try. Green eyes watering. It all feels nauseatingly familiar.

You grip the desk behind you for support. "Did Mathers do this to you?" His gaze is unchanged. You swallow around the lump in your throat. He looked an inch from death like this. How he'd managed to get up here and almost kill you without a drop of venom in his veins was no ordinary feat. "You tried to kill her, and she almost killed you."

His chest rises and falls in steady progression, a little too slow for your liking. Your instincts were being pulled in both directions: to help, and to run away.

You watch him watch you for what feels like an eternity. What had he hoped to achieve? He'd been beaten to a pulp. The logical thing would've been to lay low, hide out until he healed, and aim for you on more even ground. At the very least, he'd have two under his belt instead of one. Coming here was a death sentence in his state. "You shouldn't have come here." You whisper.

His eyes hood, then close.

[mqsoreshi]

Sleepy Bat part 3

Step 4: Medicine

Jason had to make a little stop to recover from step three. He was a bit tired, his toes still hurt, his face itched, and he was starting to feel hungry. Alfred offered him a short rest–and some of his favorite snacks—while the butler prepared lunch.

“How has the mission gone so far, Master Jason?” asked Alfred.

“I left my team watching over Batman.” The kid was adorably serious, as if a very important mission was underway. “But there’s a field report I need to bring to them. So I’d better get to work quickly.”

“I can imagine, sir,” Alfred replied. “I’ll prepare your favorite energy-preserving provisions to help carry on your duty.”

“I’d like that. Thanks, Alfred!”

Jason was forced to wash his market-covered hands before eating the peanut butter and jam sandwiches Alfred had made for him. He headed back to his room while munching, looking for his notebook—forgetting he had left it on the breakfast bar.

He looked out the window, distracted, watching how the gray clouds threatened with rain that night, as had been a normality the last weeks. His eyes followed the trail of a butterfly that rested on one of the many flowers that grew on the manor’s garden. Then, fueled by the sugar in the jam, more ideas started to bloom in his mind.

Alfred was focused on the tomato soup he was cooking when he suddenly heard the rush of a little bird who had opened and shut the manor’s front door abruptly. Holding the ladle in his hand, Alfred called out:

“Master Jason! I hope I don’t have to remind you to wear your coat if you’re going out!”

Three seconds later, a little hand appeared through the door, snatched a red coat from the rack, and vanished again. Alfred sighed, chuckling.

Outside, the red-hooded robin wandered around.

“Where did I see it?” he muttered to himself.

Barely ten minutes later, Jason burst through the door again, disorderly holding a few flowers. He struggled to release himself from the coat as fast as he could.

“What’s that, may I ask?” Alfred inquired.

“Natural medicine,” answered Jason. “I heard Bruce fought a girl named Poison Ivy who can control plants. And I haven’t seen these flowers in the garden before. So maybe she grew them to help him.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t have the heart to explain the latest addition to the manor’s garden done by himself. Jason’s eyes were too innocent for disappointment. So instead, Alfred simply smiled.

“Do you know where the red poison medicine is?” Jason asked, tossing his coat.

“Do you mean the cough syrup?” Alfred answered.

“Yeah. The one that tastes like cherry and smells like rubber. Maybe the natural medicine won’t be enough.”

“Um… I already gave Master Bruce the dose he needs. There’s no need to give him more.”

“And what if his body turned fast like the Flash’s and the effect wore off?”

“Master Jason,” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “I assure you I’ve got it cover. You can trust me.”

Jason sighed, a little frustrated, but he didn’t insist. Instead, he took more supplies for his crusade.

.

.

.

A couple of hours after, Bruce’s nightstand was filled with a glass of orange juice (for vitamin C), crackers (for vitamin H—according to Jason: ‘H’ for hungry), the flowers from outside as natural medicine, and a note with drawings:

“Bruce:

You’re sick but I’m taking care of you.

You’re almost healed.

Don’t die.

Jason :)”

There were several other notes written in messy colors, reporting how the mission had gone so far. However, there was no trace of the little vigilante. The toy soldiers and the actions figures missed his presence. They had no new orders to follow.

The night was starting to fall, and the clouds covered the moon. Rain seemed very likely. But that was exactly the moment a tiny crimefighter had been waiting for. Outside, armed with water pistols, a lantern, and some smoke bombs made with glitter, Jason stood ready.

His mask was rubbed and barely visible on his face. He had tried several solutions for that problem, but all ended up either broken or irritating his skin—so he left it as it was for now.

“Okay… Step five: Defend the manor. No one will pass that door. Only over my dead body.”

He didn’t mention the Batcave because he had found he couldn’t reach the entrance—it was a bit too high for him. So he trusted Batman’s distrust and believed it would remain safe. Jason moved on to his other target, the manor.

Honestly… It was nearly 10 p.m., and Jason was starting to feel really tired. His eyes felt heavy.

“Come on, Jay… You can do this… Just… a little check.”

He pulled his notebook again and scribbled quickly with a broken crayon.

“No Bane, no Pinguin, no Killer Croc, no Scarecrow, and ESPECIALLY no Joker. I hate that guy… If I encounter him, I’m gonna…”

Little Robin yawned before he could finish imagining what he would do. He didn’t know at what hour the manor had become so huge, but his battery was running low very fast. He peeked behind a few bushes before returning to the front door rubbing his eyes.

“Okay… Plan B. I’m gonna watch him myself.”

Jason hadn’t even noticed he had forgotten his coat on the rank, so he was getting cold. The breeze and the first drops of rain urged him to take shelter. Alfred had been looking for him for hours, but Jason was so unintentionally sneaky that they never encounter. But the butler finally relaxed when he saw the boy going upstairs, almost sleepwalking—like a soldier returning from the field.

Jason made it back to Bruce’s room. He opened the door and climbed up to reach his father again. Bruce’s face was less warm than the last one thousand times he had checked it before, and Jason felt relieved.

“Don’t worry, old man…” Jason whispered. “I’m gonna watch over you all night…”

The cold was winning over him, so the kid snuggled close to Bruce’s body to get warm, slipping under the blankets beside him. He wrapped an arm around his father’s and took a deep breath to ‘get ready for surveillance’—falling asleep few minutes after.

Last part - Next part

[cinderellaenjoyer]

How Could I Ever Forget

Summary:

In another world, Gabe Goodman got to grow up. But in that same world, Natalie Goodman didn't.

Or

The Night Natalie Goodman died, from the perspective of Gabe.

---

Gabe is two years old when they have to take Natalie to the hospital.

It all happens so fast. One moment, he's enjoying the morning, finishing his cereal, making his toy car move around the table. The next, Mama comes running down the stairs, holding Natalie, a look of panic on her face.

Gabe looks at Natalie, who seems to still be asleep. Mama said babies are meant to sleep a lot when Natalie first came home, so Gabe doesn't know why she looks scared that Natalie is sleeping now.

Suddenly, Daddy is helping him put his shoes and coat on, now looking equally as panicked as Mama, who's throwing a black coat over her blue nightgown.

"Where are we going?" Gabe asks, confused. He still has his little toy car in hand.

Daddy picks him up, holding him close. "We're going to the hospital."

"Why?"

"Natalie's very, very sick."

Before he knows it, he's strapped into his car seat, and Daddy is driving. He's going really, really fast, that lights of the city seem to fly fast them.

Daddy tries to get Mama to calm down. His voice is quiet, but Gabe can just about hear him say that the doctors were able to save him when he was sick, and they'll be able to help Natalie too. Gabe doesn't remember when he was sick or a baby, but he hopes Daddy is right.

They run inside the hospital. The doctors to take them a room. A cold, gloomy room that Gabe doesn't like one bit.

Mama screams at the doctors, no matter how many times they tell her to calm down, to wait.

He doesn't know what's going on anymore, and he's terrifed. Daddy is holding Natalie while the doctors check her over.

Gabe clings to his mother's leg, praying Natalie will be alright.

After what feels like seconds and years all at once, Daddy's face falls completely, and the Doctor's look at Mama with a look of sympathy.

"I'm sorry, miss goodman, but your baby is-"

Mama screams. A loud, terrible scream, full of pain.

"NO!"

She rushes to Natalie, tries to snatch her out of the Doctor's arms, to hold her close. She's sobbing, practically collapsed onto the floor and whispering 'my baby' over and over again.

Gabe looks at Natalie again. She's still sleeping. But it has to be a bad sleep, because it's making upset.

"Mama?" he asks, slowly toddling towards his mother. She doesn't hear him, or the doctors trying to talk to her.

Daddy scoops him up, carrying him out of the hospital room. Gabe doesn't understand why. He kicks his legs and tries to go back to Mama.

"I want Mama! Why is Mama crying?! What happened to Natalie?!" Gabe yells, demanding answers from his father.

Daddy sets him down on a seat in the waiting room. It's only then Gabe realises that he's crying. He's never seen Daddy cry before. Something has to be really, really wrong.

"Gabe..." his father starts, clearly chocking back a sob. "Natalie, she's...she's gone."

"No she's not! I just saw her with the doctors!"

Daddy shakes his head again. "Sweetie, she's gone. She's not here anymore."

Gabe's world comes crashing down as he tries to register the words.

Natalie's gone.

She'll never grow up to be able to actually play with him. He'll never be able to talk to her again, to tell her about Daycare or show her his toys.

His lip trembles, and Gabe burst into tears.

"I want Natalie! I don't want Natalie to go!"

Daddy picks him up again, holding him close, trying to shush him while clearly crying himself.

His little sister is gone. He barley got to be a big brother and she's gone.

When they do go back to Mama, she's still crying. Gabe rushes over to her, giving her the biggest hug his little arms can. Mama hugs him back, so close and tight that it almost starts to hurt. As if he'll go away like Natalie did too, if she dares to let go.

He doesn't remember the car ride home. Maybe he sleeps through it. Maybe it hurts to much right now to remember it. He doesn't know.

They get home. Mama goes upstairs immeditley. To Natalie's little nursery room, Gabe guesses. He tries not to think about Natalie not being in it.

Daddy sets him in front of the TV, putting some cartoons on. Gabe knows he shouldn't be in the mood for cartoons, not now, not when Natalie's gone, but if Daddy's letting him then maybe it's okay to watch them. Maybe he won't have to think about Natalie being gone if he just watches them.

So Gabe watches the cartoons, trying to ignore his mother sobbing upstairs and the pain in his chest.

[st4rssky]

Ermm part 2 of the little Kenma Drabble :3 warnings: She/her pronouns, like 3(?) mentions of Y/N, I need to find a better term…

Kenma is far from a confident man. He was fairly confident in his gaming skills and knowledge, but that was all shattered after he was dominated in a 1v1 by a girl who just so happens to be the new club manager for his volleyball team. Keeping his head lower than usual his eyes not even trained on his hand held device but the floor as he and his long term friend, Kuroo, walk through the school halls together.

“Are you okay, man? Normally you’d atleast give me a sign of acknowledgement by telling me to shut up. But you’ve just been letting me talk this whole time!”

Has Kuroo seriously been yapping this whole time? Kenma was so lost in thought thinking about how practice is gonna go later he didn’t even realize what was going on around him! In fact, he was so preoccupied with remembering the gentle voice calling him ‘The best setter’ that he nearly died of embarrassment when he saw they were standing infront of the gym! That ‘later’ practice he was thinking about..was happening now.

“H-huh?! Oh yeah- I’m fine.”

Kenma quickly stuttered out his words as he shoves his hands in his pockets and walked towards the locker room to change.

Now, as Y/N stood beside coach Nekomata her diligent eyes scanned the room, trained on every new face that came in looking for him. She knew his face, she was a fan after all! Always showing up to watch the practice games, bringing signs to root for that pretty fake blonde at all the real games. Her gaze always focused on his eyes, so sharp and precise, anytime they’d make eye contact she felt as if they were the only ones in the room- scratch that- the world as he looked at her with those bright golden eyes.

She rocked back and forth on her feet as she waited for him, player #5. She was so ashamed but she didn’t know his name. The team captain was always more popular, and from what she’s heard the official setter doesn’t have many friends or talk to anyone besides his teammates. But she got to hear his voice. So smooth and the perfect pitch- deep enough to not sound like a child but not so deep it sounds fake. His laugh, god it made her head spin- and the way he said her name!? She had never been more thankful for having her real name in her gamer tag.

Did she have a plan here? Absolutely not. From the abrupt end of their call last night she figures he must be a little shy. But she can work with that! She cracked his shell online, she can do it in person too! And then, it happened. The moment she’s been waiting for since she found out the funny boy she beat in valorent last night was really the boy she’s had a crush on since she watch her school teams volleyball match. He walked in along side the team captain. Arms exposed just enough to see the lean defined lines from setting, his constant half lidded eyes scanning the room as he pulls his hair up.

As Kenma looked over to where coach Nekomata had everyone lined up, he saw who he could only assume was her. He recognized her face, she’s watched practices before. When the manager spot opened up she must of seized the opportunity he thought to himself. He joined the line up next to the other players, looking everywhere but at the annoyingly cute girl in front of him.

“This is your new Manger, Y/N. I expect you to treat her with as much respect you’d give us coaches.”

“It’s nice to meet you all! I hope we can all get along!”

As coach signals everyone to start warming up Kenma quickly turns to join until he’s stopped, his shoulder tensing as he hears his name.

“Not you, Kenma. Help our new manager get the water bottles filled. Show her to the nearest fountain and help her carry the bottles, would ya?”

Kenma slowly turns around muttering a quick “Yes, coach.” As he looks at her for the first time since he walked in the gym. Coach Nekomata walks over to the other team members as Kenma quietly mumbles “Follow me.” As he grabs the empty water bottles and shows her to the nearest fountain.

Y/n bites the inside of her cheek as she fills the bottles. The silence between them being akward to say the least. Finally she gains the courage to speak.

“If i didn’t know any better, I’d think your still sour from me beating you last night..”

Kenma perks up at her words, mentally debating on whether he should say something or not.

“I was never ‘sour’, you beat me fair and square. Which is something that doesn’t happen often..” He mumbles the last part to himself.

“Who knows! Maybe it was a fluke and next time you’ll beat me.”

“Next time?”

Shit.

“I mean- if we happen to be in the same lobby again-“

“Or I could send you a friend request and we could play together..”

Looking up from the fountain her gazes shifts to the boy beside her, whose eyes are trained to the floor with a pink blush settling on the tips of his ears. She smiles softly, filling up the last bottle as she speaks.

“Yknow, I never got your name.”

“…Kenma”

“Well, Kenma, wanna play after practice?”

[azzifudd10]

Somewhere To Land

Chapter 23: Things We Carry

Azzi’s Apartment – Monday Morning

The sunrise was soft, painting the windows a peachy gold. Eli had woken up early, fussy and clingy from the weekend travel, and Azzi had rocked him in her arms for over half an hour. Now he was finally calm, cheeks still flushed with sleep, head tucked into her chest.

Azzi sat on the couch in her robe, gently rubbing circles on his back.

“Okay, baby bear,” she whispered. “So, I know you can’t talk back yet, but I feel like you’re a really good listener. And I need that today.”

Eli squirmed a little, then relaxed again.

Azzi smiled down at him. “I think Mommy’s a little tired. Not just from the trip — from everything. I try to stay calm, y’know? For you. But sometimes I just want someone to say ‘Hey, you’re doing great,’ even if I don’t know if I am.”

She took a breath. “Paige had a hard time while we were gone. And I didn’t know. I thought giving her space was being kind, but maybe I should’ve checked in more. I’m learning too, Eli. Every day. About you, about her, about me.”

Her voice dropped into something even softer. “I just want you to grow up in a house where people talk about things. Where love means listening. Where no one ever feels alone.”

Eli cooed gently, lifting his sleepy head.

Azzi smiled. “Exactly. You're wise beyond your months, little man.”

Later That Morning – Paige’s Apartment

Paige hadn’t moved from the kitchen stool since Azzi came over. Her cereal was soggy, untouched, and her eyes were fixated on the countertop.

Azzi, dressed in leggings and a hoodie, sat across from her, elbows on the table, fingers laced together.

“Can we talk about what happened?” she asked gently.

Paige gave a small nod. “I… I didn’t even realize I was spiraling. Until it was too late.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You shut me out, babe. I’m not mad. But I need to know what happened in your head.”

Paige swallowed hard. “I think… when you left, it reminded me of before. When I’d be hurt, or off-season, and people would keep going without me. I’d be stuck, feeling useless. And it scared me that you — you and Eli — could move on too.”

Azzi’s chest ached. “Paige…”

“I know it’s stupid,” she rushed. “You’re not going anywhere. But it brought something up. Old stuff I didn’t know was still in me.”

Azzi reached across the table and took her hand. “That’s not stupid. That’s real. And I’m glad you told me.”

Paige looked up. “You’re not mad?”

“No,” Azzi said, voice low and sure. “But I do need you to promise me that next time — if there is a next time — you don’t go silent. Even if you don’t have the words, just let me in.”

Paige nodded. “I promise.”

They leaned across the table, foreheads touching, and for a long moment, just breathed.

Later That Night – Azzi’s Apartment

Eli was freshly bathed and cozy in his sleep sack, nestled against Azzi’s chest. She swayed back and forth gently in the nursery, moonlight spilling through the slats of the blinds.

“I had a good day,” she whispered into the top of his curls. “We talked about some hard things, but they were good. Important. Mommy and paigey are learning how to love each other the right way.”

She pressed a kiss to his soft forehead.

“Also,” she added, “I made a mean grilled cheese today. You’re gonna love grilled cheese one day.”

Eli sighed sleepily.

“And I might’ve cried a little while watching a commercial,” she said with a soft laugh. 

She paused, holding him closer.

“I hope when you’re older, you feel safe telling us how you feel. Even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.”

He didn’t respond, of course, but she knew he heard her. In his own little way.

Tuesday – Late Afternoon

Azzi opened the mailbox before heading upstairs with Eli on her hip, distractedly flipping through the stack of letters — bills, junk, a flyer for a new daycare they’d already passed on.

And then she stopped.

A legal-sized envelope. No return address. Just her name in bold type.

Her chest tightened.

She carried Eli inside, set him gently in the playpen, and sat at the kitchen table. Hands trembling, she opened the envelope and began reading.

Her heart dropped.

To: Azzi FuddRe: Legal Notification of Custody InterestFrom: The Law Offices of Kline & Barker, representing the paternal grandparents of Elijah Thomas Wright.

The words blurred for a second as panic surged.

“Paternal grandparents?” she whispered.

No.

No no no.

Tasha’s parents.

They had barely shown up after the funeral. Didn’t attend the hearing when Azzi was awarded custody. Hadn’t sent a birthday card or asked how Eli was doing.

And now… this?

Her stomach twisted.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and sudden.

She jumped, breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she stood and opened it.

Paige stood on the other side, casual in joggers and a hoodie, holding takeout and smiling.

“Hey,” she said. “I brought your favorite—”

Azzi didn’t speak. Just handed her the letter with a shaking hand.

Paige’s smile faded as she took it, scanning quickly. Her face darkened.

“They’re trying to get custody?” she said, voice low.

Azzi nodded, lips pressed together to keep from crying.

Paige dropped the takeout on the counter and pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

“They are not taking him,” she whispered fiercely. “I swear to God, Azzi. We are not going to let them.”

Azzi broke then — silent tears soaking into Paige’s shoulder as Eli babbled softly in the background, completely unaware that his whole world had just been thrown into question.

the unopened voicemail on Azzi’s phone. From a number she doesn’t recognize. Timestamped from three hours ago.

"Hello, this is Sharon Wright — Elijah’s grandmother. I’d really like to speak to you before things get more complicated…"