#and replacements ready immediately

[theamazingmr-j]

yes yes yes thank you!! everyone is talking about it as if its bc of the car performance, but i truly dont think thats it. what with this being the last year of this regulation set, it wouldn’t make sense for them to drop horner in the middle of the season over a car that is on its last legs within this current regulation set. if it was that, they wouldve done it at the end of the year and had a new tp starting in 2026, not next race weekend. i think something much bigger has gone on at rbr. The nature of the announcement being on a random wednesday morning two days after a race weekend with no real speculation or rumors about this happening means that this was a very sudden decision. news travels very fast in the paddock, and nobody saw this coming, which means that something has happened in the last two days where christian horner has been fired and many important red bull personnel are stepping down. they are hiring from outside the main team, which means they do not want people connected in a personal way to christian horner to be lead red bull. that is a very bad sign. everyones talking as if it’s because of the regulation set; its because the car is doing bad, but i don’t think that’s it. i think christian horner has done something very very bad that made red bull fire him effective immediately.

I can’t quite explain it, but the Red Bull statement is pretty brutal, and the way it’s been written and released makes me think that there’s something bigger going on in the background that has yet to come out, and they are trying to distance themselves as much as possible.

This is purely speculation but that’s kind of how it feels to me, even when someone’s fired due to underperformance or something, they’ll usually make a statement in the press release or the team will thank them for their service.

[frogaroundandfindout]

Au where no one knows Nightwing’s real identity and he’s dating Wally as dick grayson. But the thing is he’s also Batman at the moment so when a mission goes wrong and the cowl is ripped from dicks face Wally is absolutely floored.

His boyfriend is Batman!?

His boyfriend is Batman!?

Fuck he’s dating Batman!

Ew ew ew he’s dating Batman!

Holy fuck how is his boyfriend Batman?!?!????

WHY is his boyfriend Batman!?!?!?

[publicuniversalenemy]

hey quick question. what hte Fuck was that,

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[elixirfromthestars]

By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you. 

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends. 

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before. 

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story. 

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response. 

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.” 

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time. 

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth. 

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch—”

“Bucky!” 

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat. 

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you. 

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.” 

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming. 

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong. 

[mr-ribbit]

not to keep harping on this but if you HATE shaving your body or any other part of your "beauty routine": stop doing it. just stop doing it, at least for a little while (maybe when you don't have a lot going on if that helps) and HONESTLY gauge how it makes you feel. is this feeling better or worse than the amount of time, stress, and money the routine takes? do YOU actually prefer how you looked before, or are you only worried about what others think? if you stopped doing the routine forever, could you find other ways to feel better about yourself with that energy?

when I was like 19 and the idea of not shaving my legs anymore first occurred to me (bc I had a Cool Progressive Boyfriend that Didn't Care) i just stopped and it was immediately like... a quantifiably large chunk of unnecessary anxiety just sloughed off my life forever. instantaneously I got rid a bunch of effort and stress I had been accepting as normal, and replaced it with more time to do what actually made me feel 'ready' in the morning, like hygiene, coffee, preparing for my activities etc.

and i DONT feel self conscious about body hair personally but even if I did, no amount of shame over hair could outweigh how much easier my life is. not just bc 'shaving annoying' or 'long showers' or whatever, but like. yeah I don't waste as much time getting ready anymore, and I also don't have to realize last minute before some leg-showing event that im unfit for display and have a whole self-esteem plummeting anxiety attack about whether I should rush it unsafely and risk being late, cut up, and stressed out before the event, or go With Hair and feel judged the whole time. i don't have to go through any of those emotions and when anyone does comment on my hair rudely, im in a much healthier place to deal with it and tell them to fuck off rather than validate THEIR fucked up standards by feeling bad.

once I realized I didn't give a shit and neither did anyone I cared about, it also gave me the freedom to cut out a bunch of other shit I was only doing (or Thinking I Should) bc it was what girls Have To Do to be presentable. fuck shaving fuck waxing fuck eyebrow shaping fuck concealer fuck multi step skincare fuck shapewear fuck lip fillers fuck contouring fuck teeth whitening fuck all of it, you do not need to change ANYTHING about how you look Every Single Day.

for those of you about to say "but I like being shaven/wearing makeup/literally pulling hair out of my face painfully every day etc etc etc":

have fun and mod your avatar all you want but for gods sake if you hate it and complain about how long it takes and all the stuff you "have" to buy or do just to "get ready" - you do not have to. you're not just having fun. you are not getting Ready, you are making your mood and experience worse for yourself, which is going to make you feel unready and unprepared for actually being yourself comfortably.

[hoe4hotchner]

Can you write a story where the reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while she’s been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesn’t know that he’s married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her."

Family first | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Fluff, mom!reader, they have a daugther, bitch of a replacement coworker who doesn't know her place.

As you stepped into the all too familiar bullpen you were met with the usual sound of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the occasional laughter bubbling up from conversations between team members. You hadn’t stepped foot in the office in months — your maternity leave had been an endless storm of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and indescribable moments of joy. Now, cradling your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you stood at the threshold of the office, taking it all in — realizing how little you'd missed working, as long as you got to spend your time with your daughter.

“Ready to surprise Daddy?” you cooed to your baby, brushing a soft kiss against her fluffy head. She giggled in response, her little hand grasping at your necklace — the one Aaron had gotten you with a charm of your daughter's initial. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the charm, and you couldn’t help but smile at her curiosity.

Heads turned as you had entered, and a wave of warmth spread through you as familiar voices from your friends greeted you.

“Y/N!” Garcia’s exclamation came first as she flew across the bullpen, pulling away from her conversation with Morgan, her colorful dress trailing behind her. “Oh my gosh, let me see that precious little angel!”

You laughed, carefully handing over your daughter as Garcia immediately began cooing at her. Emily, Morgan, and JJ soon gathered around, their faces lighting up at the sight of the baby.

“Look at those cheeks,” Morgan said, his voice soft as he tickled her tiny hand. “Hotch better have her signed up for karate classes already. Gotta keep the boys away.”

“Or girls,” Emily added. “She’s going to be a heartbreaker either way.”

You beamed at their affection, the team’s love for your little family filling your heart. “Where is Aaron?” you asked, glancing toward his office. The blinds were drawn, but you knew he wasn’t inside.

JJ nodded toward the conference room. “He’s in there, showing something to Agent Morrison.”

Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of Morrison, the agent who had been brought in temporarily to cover your leave. You hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard through the grapevine that she was ambitious, skilled, and confident — maybe a little too confident.

You spotted Aaron through the windows, his back turned as he reviewed what you assumed were some case files with Morrison. He looked relaxed yet tired, his tie slightly loosened, though his usual air of authority remained in place. Morrison stood close to him — a little too close — her laughter ringing out at something he said.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you pushed the feeling aside. Aaron was your husband, your partner, and the father of the baby currently making grabby hands at Morgan’s face. You had no reason to feel insecure.

Morgan handed your daughter back to you as you went to greet your husband.

And still, as you approached, you couldn’t help but notice the way Morrison’s body language leaned toward him, her hand brushing his forearm as she laughed again. Aaron didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he wasn’t encouraging it.

When you reached the conference room, Aaron glanced up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and surprise. His gaze immediately dropped to the baby in your arms, and he stood quickly, coming around the desk to envelop you both in a hug.

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before gently brushing a finger across your daughter’s cheek. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, and he took her into his arms with ease.

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I told you,” you replied, grinning as you watched him cradle her. “I figured you could use a break.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he kissed the baby’s forehead before turning back to you. “I always have time for my girls.”

Morrison’s voice cut into the moment, a hint of confusion lacing her words. “Wait, your girls?”

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Aaron’s wife.”

Her eyes widened, darting between you, Aaron, and the baby. “Wife?” she repeated, her tone almost incredulous.

Aaron’s arm settled protectively around your waist as he nodded. “Yes, my wife. Y/N used to work here before going on maternity leave.”

Morrison’s expression shifted, her initial surprise giving way to something more guarded. “Oh. I… I didn’t realize.”

“Well, now you do,” Aaron said firmly, his tone polite but edged with finality, hoping that your visit would make Morrison drop her antics.

The tension in Morrison’s posture was clear as day, but she pasted on a smile. “She’s adorable,” she said, nodding toward the baby. “You’re very lucky.”

Aaron’s grip on you tightened slightly. “I know I am.”

The interaction seemed to conclude there, and Morrison excused herself, claiming she had paperwork to finish. But as the day went on, it became clear that the encounter had unsettled her. You noticed her watching you from across the room, her eyes narrowing whenever Aaron’s attention lingered on you or the baby.

Finally, as you were gathering your things to leave, Morrison approached you near the elevator. Her smile was tight, her tone clipped.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, glancing around to ensure no one else was within earshot.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Her polite facade dropped almost instantly. “You don’t have to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone,” she said sharply. “It’s unprofessional.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean. Walking in here with your baby like you own the place, acting like Hotch is your personal property… It’s distracting and completely inappropriate.”

You blinked, stunned by the audacity. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Agent Morrison.”

Aaron’s tone was ice-cold, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous. “A word, please. Now.”

Morrison’s face paled as she stammered, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“My office. Now.”

You watched as Aaron led her away, his posture stiff with fury. The bullpen had fallen silent, and you could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you held your head high, refusing to let Morrison’s pettiness rattle you.

Minutes later, Aaron returned, his expression softer but still serious. He placed a hand on your arm, guiding you toward the elevator. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly.

As the elevator doors closed, you glanced up at him. “What happened?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Morrison won’t be returning. Her behavior was unacceptable, and I made it clear that we won’t tolerate that kind of attitude here.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside you. “Thank you.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “No one disrespects my family,” he said firmly. “No one.”

[xervn]

melatonin

two-shot | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

pt. 2

ao3 link

summary: you're forced to go on a business trip with your least favorite coworker and share a room with her. now you can't sleep.

18+ MDNI | 4.1k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, sevika is nonchalant fr, reader is a brat, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, scissoring, begging kink, praise kink kinda, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

new record; took me 4 days to write. i don't know who possessed me. i love enemies to lovers so bad FUCKKKK!!!

“One room.” The motel owner, an old, short, and grotesque-looking woman with a thick accent, says. 

 “One room? Clear another one out then?” You insist, mildly threateningly. The woman’s eyes glaze over as she blinks. She’s not moved.

“There are two beds; who cares?” Sevika grumbles, clearly over your antics.

You shoot a glare in her direction, lip forming into a scowl. “I’m not sharing a room with you; you look like you snore.” 

She tells you something along the lines of go fuck or kill yourself (you weren’t really listening) before pushing past you and replacing the room keys on the counter with a stack of silver cogs. 

The owner collects the cogs with a grunt before adjusting her small reader glasses. Sevika strides off towards the rooms, and you quickly turn after her.

“Couldn’t you have tried to help?” You ask. Your eyes burn a hole through the side of her face.

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “You’re dramatic, and I don’t have the patience to deal with your bullshit right now.”

You hate her. You fucking hate her. You’ve been working alongside Sevika for two years now, yet you can’t shake the feeling. It started when you first met; Sevika was cold and critical, reprimanding you even though you were young and starting out. That’s not even what drove you to hate her, though; at least back then it felt like she was looking out for you, but you were painfully mistaken when you got promoted within the year. 

You don’t know what it was; jealousy, doubt, but her distaste for you only grew more apparent. There were fewer critiques and more insults about how you work or about your intelligence. Insufferable. She was insufferable.

There hasn’t been a day she’s been likable since then, so imagine your reaction when Silco tells you and her to go on a little business trip to Bilgewater. No matter how much the both of you wanted to protest, you didn’t. Instead you two argued amongst yourselves the whole trip there. 

Why would you want to spend even more unnecessary time around her?

The minute you guys enter your room, you don’t speak a single word to each other, let alone look each other’s way. You take turns using the restroom to get ready for bed, and then you find a place for your belongings, and Sevika ejects her bionic arm for the night. Although you two definitely don’t like each other, it doesn’t mean you don’t trust each other. You know she won’t rob you; she knows you won’t (can’t) take advantage and kill her. That’s the only semblance of peace you share.

— 

A faint amber light soaks through your eyelids, and you blink them open to the popcorned ceiling. You toss and turn in your bed, rustling around, unable to find a good position, and it doesn’t help that the cheap mattress is, well, cheap. You can’t sleep. You’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it’s never been a real problem before; you’d just stay up. Yes, you have permanent eye bags because of it, but it’s not like you can choose otherwise. You‘re from Zaun; any aid for it is not exactly accessible. 

However, the meeting you have tomorrow is important, so it’s important that you find a way. You can’t afford to slack off or doze off during it; you’re the negotiator, and tomorrow makes or breaks a trade deal that will be most beneficial for Zaun’s income. 

You rustle in your bed sheets again, and Sevika immediately groans. “Can you stop? And turn the lamp off.”

You look at her and you’re about to apologize, but you hold your tongue when you remember who you’re talking to. “I can’t sleep.”

“Turn the lamp off and fucking figure it out.” She snaps, turning her back towards you.

“Can’t you hear?” You squirm around, making as much noise as possible to get your point across. “I’m trying.”

“Find a different way. Count poros. Turn the lamp off.”

You scoff, eyes back on the ceiling, “I’m not five; counting poros doesn’t work, and I’m not turning off the lamp.”

You can hear Sevika shifting in her bed. “I knew you should’ve stayed back,” she sighs, “and you’re scared of the dark? Grow up.”

“Wow, fuck you. If you had asked nicely, I would’ve turned it off, and what do you mean I ‘should’ve stayed’? You’re not my boss. I’m more valuable than you are.” You angrily rant. 

“Alright, you are talking way too much right now. Cut it out.” 

“…No.” You reply. It sounds unconvincing with your lack of words, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Do you need calming tea or something? What will get you to shut up, because I’m about to hold a pillow over your head and call it a night.” She growls.

“Nothing. I can only sleep if I get a concussion or if I drink my pants off.”

She says your name like a warning, “If you ruin this deal, I’ll make sure to see you off myself.”

You bite back, “Sevika, if I could sleep, I would be sleeping. I don’t want to ruin it either, but your scolding isn’t helping.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Sevika grunts stubbornly. It’s followed by sheets moving and a dull stomp on the floor. You turn to look, and you see Sevika sitting at the side of her bed. 

You glance at her muscular thighs in those gray shorts—you couldn’t help it—before staring back at the ceiling. “Are you going to make me tea?”

She pushes off the bed with her one arm. “No.”

“Switching rooms then?” You ask as your eyes follow her shadow’s movement on the walls. 

“No.”

“Then... What is it?“ You turn, flinching a bit when you find Sevika peering down at you. 

She looks hesitant, timid; the first time you’ve ever seen it. “I’ll help you.”

Your defenses go off, and you quickly sit up. “Wait. You’re not going to kill me, right?”

“Over sleep? Are you stupid?” She pushes you back down, and not with much force, obviously.

You lay there, defeated. “So?”

“I said, ‘I’ll help you.'” She restates.

You stare up at her with slight annoyance, “Well, you have to tell me how?”

She has an indecisive frown before exhaling, “If you come, you’ll shut up.” 

Your head shakes in confusion. “Come? Where are we going?” 

“You’re an actual idiot.” She groans.

You gasp in offense. “You’re the one being fucking cryptic—“

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.” 

“What?”

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.”

“I heard you; I’m just,” you laugh nervously, “are you serious?” Your ears must be playing tricks on you. 

“We’re not close enough to joke around with each other.” She says plainly.

Baffled, you reply, “We’re not close enough to fuck either?” 

“Do you really care about shit like that? Sex is sex.”

You think about it for a second. You’ve never been in a proper relationship, and you’ve only had a handful of hookups, but you’ve never slept with someone you dislike, and you definitely don’t like Sevika. Even if she is hot. “Well, I guess not—“

“—Then what’s the issue?” Her eyes bore into you.

You gulp at the sudden weight of her stare, but you don’t crumble. “The issue is that I don’t like you. At all.”

Sevika scoffs, “I’ve seen the way you stare at me. You’re not subtle. At all. I saw you do it a few minutes ago.”

How embarrassing. It’s true, between all your hate are moments of admiration. Sevika is “cool,” she’s respected, she’s feared. She’s also full of herself, naggy, and blunt. Both things can be true. But on top of that, she’s hot to the point it’s frustrating. 

One time, while she was sitting in her designated booth at The Last Drop playing poker, she locked eyes with you after a big win. There was that sexy, satisfied grin she always gets after every win, and she had the audacity to lock eyes with you. 

Your thighs pressed together. You beat yourself up over it for the rest of the night and the following day; you couldn’t even look her in the eye without getting unreasonably angry.

Your face is turning warm, but there’s no point in turning away—you have to fake it until you make it. “Okay? What’s your point?” You ask, even though her point was very clear. You’re running yourself into walls.

Sevika already deciphered that; her face reads, ‘Where the fuck are you right now?’ “Listen, I don’t like you either, but if you want to sleep, I’ll help you, and if you don’t, I’ll get another room.” She explains.

You can tell it’s her final offer. You chew your bottom lip until you remember Sevika is still looking at you. Hiding your face behind your hand, you can’t believe you’re considering it. Sex with Sevika. Sounds mad when you repeat it in your head. It’s just sex, though, right? You knew she loved Zaun, but you didn’t know she loved it this much. Sleeping with you, practically her arch nemesis, for the betterment of society. That sounds insane. This is insane.

Sevika kisses her teeth, “Forget it—“ 

“—Okay,” you interrupt, “help me.” You’re unable to look her in the eyes. 

She looks at you dubiously, and her lack of doing anything unnerves you, so you continue. “Please?” You slowly look up at her, and you swear her eyes darkened. 

“Please?” She mimics. “Didn’t take you for the submissive type.” 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, although it comes out like a whisper.

“Mhm,” she hums apathetically, pulling up the covers draped over you. Her knee makes a dip in the bed. “Make some space,” she asks. You sit up, and you have no idea what to do. Looking left and right, you'd think you were trying to cross the road. She stares blankly. “Just spread your legs.” She commands.

You immediately do as she says, and she chuckles to herself at how you continue to prove her right. You’re clearly not a fan of that, your frown prominent. “What’s funny?” 

Sevika kneels herself between your legs, using her arm to help balance her in place. “Man, you love to argue.” 

You shrug. “I’ll stop when you fuck me to sleep. If you can... Don’t you think you’re a little overconfident?” 

Sevika slowly blinks at you, unsure of whether she should be turned on or irritated. You take it as the latter, and now it’s your turn to chuckle to yourself. But your self-satisfied giggling stops when she leans over you, inches away from your face, “You’re about to find out.” 

You never took the time to process Sevika kneeling between your legs, and now you can feel each exhale from her on your face. Your body starts to process it too: your breathing gets heavier and your heartbeat gets faster. You don’t have a crush on her or anything, but this is an unusual, unsurprisingly hot experience. Your eyes flicker to her full, uneven lips before they squeeze shut.

Sevika flicks your forehead. “Wh—ow?!” You whine, rubbing your head with your hand to soothe it. 

“I’m not kissing you.” She clarifies.

Your face warms with embarrassment, fingers gripping at the fabric beneath you. “How was I supposed to know you wanted a staring contest?” You grumble.

Sevika rolls her eyes, barely shaking her head in disappointment. Her face moves on from yours, and her lips attack the exposed curvature of your neck, licking, biting, and rendering you speechless. She gives you no time to regulate your emotions, and you let out a soft groan you would’ve otherwise swallowed down. Just what she wanted: less talking, more moaning.

Letting her guide the tilt of your head, you awkwardly rest your hands on her shoulders. You’re unsure of whether you can or should touch her. She pauses. “Sor— I… uh…” You stammer and put your hands up. You decide to just stop speaking to save yourself.

“Relax.” She tells you, gazing at you through her loose, dark hair. It stirs something below you. 

You place your hands back on her shoulders, albeit reluctantly, and try to maintain eye contact so you look composed. 

Sevika doesn’t buy it. She glances at your hands, very tellingly. “…Relax.” She repeats, softer than she did before, and your heart skips a beat like you’re in a cliché. 

Hesitantly, you slide your arms around her shoulders, linking your hands together. It feels intimate, too intimate, and looking at her is getting harder by the second. Sevika chuckles in a way that borders on a scoff. “You wanted to do that; don’t be shy about it.”

You huff, “I didn’t know I was being teased to sleep…”

“Is it working? It’d save me time.”

“Fuck off...” 

“You’d hate that.” She replies, as if it’s undeniable. It is, but she’s way too cocky about it. You look like you’re about to curse her out, but you’re holding it back. 

Sevika grins smugly, and for a moment, she considers kissing you. Your arms are wrapped around her shoulders, your eyes are yelling, ‘Fuck me already,’ lips practically begging to meet hers.

This is intimate, too intimate. It’s fucking with her logical reasoning—not that this is logical to begin with. It sounds stupid, but it’s worked for her so far; she casually fucks on the regular, and she doesn’t kiss them ever. Never really felt like it. Yet, here you are, making her feel new things. She knows there’s no going back if she makes an exception with you, and quite frankly, you still piss her off. It’s conflicting.

You impatiently perk a brow at her. You had to stop yourself from flat-out asking her to continue; your ego can’t afford you coming off as begging.

For a millisecond she looks like she got caught, then a millisecond later, she’s on you again. 

She attentively kisses the skin below the curve of your jawline, her tongue making frequent warm appearances. It’s much more fervent, but rough in a way that makes you tremble. She always makes sure you feel her teeth gliding over when she moves to the next spot. Your legs move on their own, one leg curling up against her side. You’re already pooling where you’re seated, but now it’s getting uncomfortable to sit this damp. 

Experienced is how you can describe her right now. You heard rumors of her activity, but you never believed it. There was no way her ol’ grumpy ass was getting laid, no matter how incredibly sexy she was. Then again, you never got along, which makes this situation, this fucking feeling, even crazier. 

She was being extra careful not to bruise you at first, but she seems not to care anymore, only driven further when she hears your little gasps or feels your arms tightening around her. She’s getting carried away, but she’ll figure out how to play it off some other time.

 Sevika pulls back. She throbs at your dazed and confused expression.  “Come closer.” She ushers as she transitions to sitting rather than kneeling on the bed. 

With no hesitation, you don’t let go of Sevika as you push yourself forward on your hips, sitting your ass comfortably on the edge of Sevika’s lap. Her hand lands on your waist. She says, “Lay down for me.” 

You nod shyly, removing your arms from Sevika’s shoulders and descending onto the mattress. Sevika tries to ignore how the loss of your arms around her made her feel. Her hand travels to the waistband of your joggers. “You’re going to have to move these for me too.” She asks, shrugging her shoulder that’s missing an arm as a reminder. 

She doesn’t move; she waits. Your insides do a flip. She’s waiting for you to remove them how you are now: legs diverged around her, hips pointed towards her. You think about how vulnerable you’ll look and feel when you slide them off, showing her the sopping mess she unknowingly made between your legs. You know she’s going to see it eventually, but from you doing the honors? That’s tearing you apart. She notices a shift in your demeanor, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hurry up.” 

“Can’t you move back…?”

Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

You whine in embarrassment, briefly shielding your face in your hands before hastily pulling at your waistband. You wish you had turned the lamp off.

Sevika’s hand clasps over yours. “Slowly.” She scolds. Scolds. You’re fucking flabbergasted. She’s doing this on purpose, you can tell. She’s barely holding back another signature, smug smile. 

“You’re such a dick.” You curse. A direct juxtaposition in your actions that don’t defy Sevika at all. Hell, it juxtaposes your body because of how you’re aching for her.

“Yeah, yeah. Off.” She pulls at the band of your pants, letting it slap down when she releases it. 

You mutter out a few more curses that she fully grins at before you silently begin to remove your joggers and underwear simultaneously. You lift your hips for mobility, and Sevika’s eyes are glued to the fabric making its way down your thighs, and you’re forced to watch how intently she’s watching you. You can try to insist this is humiliating and cruel, but you can’t stop throbbing just from this; her eyes anticipating your reveal, like you’re a self-opening present.

The clothing starts to bunch at the middle of your thighs, and your arousal is halfway there to being exposed to Sevika. The scent is what hits her first; it makes her want to yank your pants down and give you what you want, but watching you do it so much better.

Once it reaches above your knees, she partially moves out of the way so she can help you remove them properly. While she tosses it elsewhere, you debate pinning your legs shut. 

Sevika looks back at you—your legs, actually—and you do flinch them closed. She tsks. “Don’t be stubborn. Not now.” She didn’t sound like she was insulting you, even though a small part of you wanted to be offended. 

You let out a shaky sigh and avoid her gaze, slowly parting your legs. Thighs slicked with arousal, folds glistened with the same, you’re undeniably soaked. You prepare yourself to look at Sevika’s shit-eating grin, but when you do, it’s nothing of the sort. Her eyes are low, shaded, and memorializing, and her bottom lip fully disappeared between her teeth. 

Then she grins; she even laughs, just as you expected. You groan, not at her, but at how wet you got from it. “I didn’t even do anything yet.” She teases, her eyes still locked on the ego-stroking mess she made of you. 

“Such a di—“ You cut yourself off to moan sharply. 

Sevika’s thumb came in contact with your swollen clit, the rough pad of her thumb making perfect circles; the rest of her fingers positioned in the patch of hair crowning above it.

“How fast do you think you’ll come? I’m thinking,” she pretends to, only to press her thumb over your clit. Filthy words flutter from your lips, and you instinctively grind into her touch. “Three minutes?” 

You look pissed between your bouts of pleasure; it molds together attractively. Sevika can’t wait to make it break, make you cry, and fuck the attitude out of you. “What? You should see how wet you are; you’d think I already fucked you.” 

She feels the way you twitch at her words, and it makes the pressure between her legs unbearable. She should just strip and grind her cunt into you, but she knows she won’t be able to stop there. Fuck her stupid life; she’s losing the plot. 

Her thick forefinger collects your slick as she paths towards your entrance. You twitch as she slides it in, making you gasp. She chuckles as your walls clench around her finger, and she starts pushing it in and out, painstakingly slow. 

It’s not enough, yet you can’t bring yourself to beg her for more. It’s at the tip of your tongue, but Sevika was right; you are stubborn. She reads you like a book, and she can read you now. She angles her finger in a way that brushes against your g-spot, but at the same mind-numbingly slow pace. 

Your body doesn’t know what to do; you can’t find friction anywhere; you can squeeze against her finger, but it doesn’t change her speed; all you can do is writhe in place. “You look like you need something,” she says, almost like it’s a thought in her head, so condescending, so fucking hot. Your pussy tenses around her finger for the millionth time, and you almost, almost, cry. “You’re gonna cut my finger off at this rate.” You tense again. She chuckles. 

“Sev—Sevika,” you bite your lip to hold down a sharp inhale, but it fails miserably. “Sevika, you’re not helping.”

 “Should I stop?” She asks with the tilt of her head. Her finger does stop regardless of the answer. 

Your hands reach out for her wrist, weakly clawing at it. “No! No, pl...” You mildly cringe at yourself, turning away. 

Sevika’s brows lifted. “What was that? Pl...?” She begins her pace again, and you realize you didn’t appreciate it enough before. “You said it once already; come on.” 

Your lips tremble, “Plea—se—?” She barely lets you finish the word before slipping another finger into your drooling cunt. Her pace increases, and you let go of her wrist as you succumb to pleasure. 

 Your arousal coating her fingers makes the most obscene noises; she wonders if the entire motel can hear it. You try to suppress your moans with your hand, but you can never do it right, not with the way she’s fucking you. Sevika’s glad you can’t; having one arm would’ve been even more inconvenient otherwise. She needs to hear you sob out her name at least once. “Please what?” She leans over you as she slams her fingers into you, pressing them against your wet, ridged, gummy walls.

“You’re— fuck, you’re pushing it,” you groan, and just like that, she slows down. But you’re weak, and you crumble. “Wait, wait, wait—please. Please, fuck me... Fuck me to sleep.” You ramble loosely, back to scratching at her wrists again. There’s that smile you were thinking about earlier, the one she gets after a big win. She broke you, and she lost the plot ages ago. 

—

It’s been an hour, and you’re already on the brink of your third orgasm. Sevika folded and ended up, verbatim, stripping and grinding her cunt into yours. You should be asleep right now, but Sevika said you have enough time to catch up on it before the meeting. You hope that’s true, but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of her or her abs flexing with every desperate hump. 

So intent on getting her rocks off, practically using you for her own pleasure at this point—you already came twice now; any more is a bonus, just like the one building up right now. Your eyes are pressed shut, trying to envision your release so it comes quicker. “Just like that. Keep fucking me, please, Sev.” You beg through your teeth and quiet sniffles. Sevika’s fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh.

She murmurs, “You,” her movements get sloppier; you can tell she’s close, “feel so fucking good.” Now you’re close—no, you come at her praise. 

You’re shaking, grabbing at the sheets that have since slid off the mattress. You forgot how to breathe; all you can feel is your orgasm coursing through you. Your mind is turning fuzzy, and even fuzzier with Sevika still grinding into you. Your moans are pitchy and pornographic; you’re making sounds you didn’t even think happened in real life. “Sevika...” You sob out from overstimulation, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

She loves it. “Shit…” Sevika moans, followed by several more curses as she shudders out her orgasm. Her vision goes blurry for a second from how hard she came. She tries to control her labored breathing as she comes to, breathlessly calling your name. 

When she focuses in on you, you’re passed out, fucked out, and peaceful. Sevika’s pupils dilate at the markings she left on your neck, then to your lips, which she’s yet to have the chance to kiss. She lets the sleep weighing on her win and carefully collapses beside you. 

>

[solxamber]

And I Pick...

In which you choose the club that caught your eye

Part 1

After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:

Basketball Club

The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.

Then Ace exploded.

"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"

"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."

"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."

Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"

"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?

"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."

"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.

"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."

Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."

"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.

"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.

Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."

"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.

Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."

The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.

Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"

"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.

"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."

"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"

You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.

Track and Field Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.

“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”

Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.

"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”

“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”

It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.

Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”

Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”

“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”

Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”

As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.

Board Game Club

The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.

"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."

Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"

"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."

Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"

Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"

Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"

Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"

Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"

Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."

Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."

Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."

As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.

Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.

But hey, you were ready for it.

Film Studies Club

When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.

"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."

But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.

He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."

Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."

He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.

Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."

Translation: I’m glad you’re here.

Science Club

The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.

"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"

"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."

You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."

Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."

Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.

Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."

Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"

"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."

You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.

Pop Music Club

When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.

"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.

Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.

"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"

"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.

Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"

Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."

"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.

"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.

Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."

As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.

But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.

Equestrian Club

When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”

Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.

“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”

“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.

Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”

“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”

Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”

“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”

Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”

As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”

You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.

Magift Club

When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.

Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"

Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”

Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.

“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.

“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.

“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”

Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”

As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.

Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”

Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”

Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.

Mountain Lovers Club

When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.

Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.

“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”

You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.

By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.

“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”

“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”

Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”

For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”

There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”

Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.

Gargoyle Research Society

When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.

"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.

You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."

For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.

"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”

“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”

Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."

“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”

“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.

“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”

The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.

In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.

Masterlist

tags: @techno-danger

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(

[barbieandkento]

₍^. .^₎⟆ synopsis: nanami wakes up in a hospital - confused, dazed, and suddenly kissed by his attractive doctor. who turns out to be his wife that he can't remember. word count: 2.7k

nanami wakes to the sound of persistent beeping.

at first, he thinks it must be his alarm clock. but it can't be, he reasons, because it's not an uninterrupted noise. rather, it's flicking on and off in a consistent rhythm.

the next thing he notices is the smell. harsh disenfectants, a mix of citrus and bleach. it lacks the smell of his laundry detergent - sandalwood and bergamot - and now that he thinks about it, his sheets were never this itchy and dry.

when he forces open his eyes, they're immediately blinded by the flourscent lighting up ahead. his eyes blinking furiously against the white burst of light to adjust to his surroundings.

he realizes his regular suit has been replaced with a hospital gown, white and frumpy with printed blue squares. his feet are bare against the stale white sheets, the same shade of white as the walls enveloping the room. the darkness outside the window tells him that he must've woken up late at night. a quiet ticking clock on the wall confirms his suspicions - 10.28pm.

the beeping, it turns out, was his heart monitor. situated carefully next to a small bedside table with water and an untouched sandwich. there's a small note next to it, in beautiful cursive writing someone has written - 'feed yourself, kento!' - in black sharpie. examining the sandwich up closer, he can see it's turkey and pesto (his favorite).

to his left, there's a single chair with a cardigan draped over it (a cardigan certainly not belonging to him, nanami notes). on the seat, there's a newspaper open to a crossword puzzle and a pen resting carefully on top.

trying to get a closer look at the crossword, he sits up, nearly swearing out loud from the sharp pain shooting up his left side. his heart mointor goes wild, the silence of the room broken, when he instinctively pulls down his blanket to see a nasty gash along his side.

within a few seconds, he hears hurried footsteps down the hallway and the door slams open.

"you're awake." you say, relieved. you almost sound like you're about to cry, which he finds strange, but chalks it up to you being a very attentive doctor.

the next thing he notices is that you're really pretty. the kind of pretty that would have made him blush profusely in his 20s and stoically stare at from a distance in hopes that you'd make a move first. you smell like daisies and fresh rain; you smile at him so dazzingly that his words turn to mush.

you then suddenly rush towards him, tossing your clipboard onto the chair, before grabbing his face and kissing him. his mind short circuits at the sudden contact, face flushing red at the unsolicited kiss. his whole body is buzzing with electricity, your sticky lipgloss staining his lips, and he almost has to surpress his whine when you pull away looking confused.

"...are you alright?" you question him, noticing your husband seems more quiet and stiff than usual.

nanami coughs awkwardly, attempting to calm his beating heart.

"i... i'm not sure how professional it is to kiss your patients, doctor." he says earnestly, but you (to his surprise) laughs him off.

"oh come on, nanami. you're acting like it's the first time." you quip, shaking your head sideways.

he's genuinely confused.

"is it not?"

you open your mouth again, ready to give him a sassy remark, but the words die in your mouth when you see that serious glint in his eyes.

lack of sleep before the mission. blunt force trauma to the head. submersion in freezing water for five minutes before geto could pull him out.

all things, logically speaking, which could result in temporary amnesia.

"you're... you're joking, right?" you trail off, hoping for even a flicker of amusment on his face. "please say you're joking."

his heart breaks at how desparate your tone becomes, but no matter how hard he tries to remember, he can't seem to find you amongst his memories.

"i-i'm sorry. do we... know each other?"

there's a beat of silence as his question hangs heavy in the air. you seem to swallow nervously, eyes shifting down to the floor as if you're lost in thought before you look back up at him with an unreadable look on your face.

"what'd you think?" you mumble quietly, raising your left hand. a diamond ring with rose details shines back at him, and suddenly nanami can feel the weight of a ring on his own left hand.

but before he can respond, a nurse is calling for you.

"I'll be back in a bit. just... eat something and rest, okay?"

nanami has so many questions he wants to ask you, his wife that he can't remember, but you're gone in an instant with an apologetic look.

what lingers is your smell, your perfume haunting the room for hours before he eventually falls back asleep.

his head plagued with questions.

==================

it's been three days since he's woken up.

so far, you've been in his room daily to monitor his vitals, ask him the usual questions (how have you been eating, any odd pain, do you need your sheets changed), and swap out the usual hospital food with his favorite foods. he suppresses the urge to ask how you know what he wants to eat so easily, and it becomes clear that you're putting in an effort to keep your distance from him.

you no longer smile wide and bright as you did the first time he saw you, your lips always pressed in a professional smile and your body never hovering closer than a few inches from him.

he misses you. there's an odd ache in his body when you're near, like he's trying to hold onto a ghost from his past that's too close and too far from him at the same time. he swears he still tastes your lipgloss when he anxiously licks his lips, which drives him even more insane.

he manages to get a few answers out of you during the routine checks. he asks anything, in hopes it'll spark his memories, but also because he can't stand the silence in the room.

the heavy tension as you avoid his gaze, whilst simultaneously staring at him from the corner of your eyes whenever you're in the room.

"where do we live?"

"fifteen minutes from ueno."

"how long till i get discharged?"

"depends on your vitals, but i'd say maybe another 36 hours."

"are you taking care of yourself?" nanami can't help but ask you that one day, when you look particularly tired and drained.

you give him a weary smile, nodding weakly.

"mostly. don't worry, our neighbours are keeping an eye on yuki."

his throat runs dry at that answer, his mind suddenly flashing with imaginations of a young girl the spitting image of you and nanami.

"yuki? is that... our daughter?" he asks carefully, his heart racing.

your eyes become so wide and you nearly choke on your spit.

"oh! uh... no. yuki's our cat. she's a really sweet, white cat we adopted from a shelter a few months back. she's two." you trail off, feeling guilty. "sorry, I forgot that you would've forgotten that yuki is our cat too."

nanami just quietly thanks you and doesn't press the subject further.

but the image of yours and his fictional daughter lingers.

true to your word, nanami gets his clean bill of health confirmed the next day and his belongings are returned to him in a meticulous manner. changing out of his hospital gown, his old clothes feel foreign against his skin.

staring at himself in the mirror, he traces every curve and dip on his face in an attempt to spark a memory. he knows his name. his friends. dreadfully, his work. but the past two years feels like a blank in his memory, ripped out pages of an incomplete sketchbook.

splashing water onto his face, he steps out the bathroom, feeling more on edge than ever. whilst waiting for you in the reception room, he can't help himself from nervously adjusting his cuff links and fiddling with his tie.

because he's going home. with you.

"ready?" you ask, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you've changed out of the uniform he's gotten so used to seeing - now in a loose tank top with a cherry print on it and form fitting jeans. your lipgloss has become more sheer through out the day, and you're wearing less mascara than usual.

"you look beautiful." he comments, without really thinking it through. you seem embarrassed by the compliment, ducking your head to avoid his gaze.

"thank you."

he purses his lips because you're still avoiding his gaze. it doesn't feel right, even if he doesn't know you as well as you know him.

"please don't look away."

it's the first time he's addressed the fact that you've been avoiding looking at him directly, making you freeze in place.

"please." he nearly whispers it, and you can't find it in your heart to refuse him.

you take in a small breath, mustering up the courage to look at him square in the eyes.

"okay."

he wordlessly takes your bag from your shoulder, trailing behind you as you walk towards your car in the parking lot. he also refuses to let you open the car door by yourself, placing his spare hand on the ceiling so you won't bump your head as you sit down.

it's so routine, you almost forget that he doesn't remember anything.

and he stills sits in the seat next to you, not the back seat. and he switches the radio to the station he'd always listen to, without being prompted to.

"are you alright?" nanami questions, noticing how your eyes are becoming watery.

you're barely able to croak out that you're fine before pulling out of the driveway, your thoughts a complete mess on the drive home.

==================

"this is the living room.... we had a bit of an argument over what color to paint the walls but we eventually settled on sage green because it's calming. though-" you chuckle, mostly to yourself. "you always insisted it wasn't an argument because you'd always let me win."

it's strange, for nanami, getting a tour of his own house. but he dutifully follows behind you, nodding along to each of your descriptions, analysing every nook and cranny of the apartment.

the kitchen is sleek but homey. DIY tiles, vintage kitchenware, vase of sunflowers in the middle of the table.

the bathroom is small but clean. his aftershave and razor sits untouched next to your bottles of perfume and makeup brushes. a crinkled book settled by the bath tub tells him that you're a fan of reading in the bath.

the office room is busy but organized, stacked high with books and files belonging to him. there's a few odd artifacts here and there - souvenirs from travels abroad, you say - and he spots a photo frame with you hugging him from behind. the scenery says malaysia, but he can't make out the exact date of the photo.

"and this... is the bedroom." you wait for him to look around the room by himself, standing at the doorway awkwardly as you wait for the right thing to say.

it's nearly 11pm now, and you're so tired that you want nothing more than to curl up next to him and sleep.

but that would be highly inappropriate, you reason, given that he's a stranger now.

"i've already laid out your clothes for the night on the corner of the bed." you explain slowly. "i've already taken out my stuff for the night, so don't worry."

he spins around and stares at you, confused.

"but then where would you be sleeping?"

you shrug, trying to come off nonchalant.

"i figured you'd want to sleep alone on your first night. what with the temporary amnesia and all." even the word amnesia leaves a sour taste on your mouth as you admit it out loud. "i can sleep on the couch in the living room, it's fin-"

nanami shakes his head sideways immediately.

"nonesense. no lady should be sleeping on a sofa. i'll take the couch, you should take the bed."

"are you-"

"yes, i'm completely sure. i will not have you sleep outside in your own home." he replies sternly, the glint in his eyes oh so familiar. a warning sign that it's not up for debate, he's made up his mind.

"it's your home too." you respond quietly. but nanami catches it, and his stern look falls for a short second.

"i... i know, but... please. i couldn't bear the thought of you sleeping on a sofa after a hospital shift."

"okay."

after moving over a few pillows and a blanket for him to the sofa, and an awkward exchange of 'good nights', you shut the bedroom door behind you and crawl into bed.

suddenly, the bed feels too cold and empty. the blankets are overwhelmingly heavy and hot against your skin, and the ceiling fan seems to be louder than usual. the heaviness of the situation begins to set in and before you know it, you're crying.

salty tears streaking down your face, body shivering under the sheets as you grieve what you've lost.

two years of marriage - gone.

he tries to hide it, but whenver he looks at you, you feel it in your guts.

you're a stranger to him.

and now, you fear he may never remember you again.

it might've been twenty minutes. or a full hour, you're not sure.

but in the complete darkness, you can't tell the passage of time before you hear a soft knock on the door.

"it's nanami." he announces himself, as if you wouldn't know that it was him (if you were in a better mood, it'd probably make you laugh). "can i come in?"

wiping the tears from your face as fast as you can, you sit up to face the door.

"y-yes. come in."

even in the pitch darkness, you can imagine nanami's beautiful face scrunching up in worry, his figure slowly moving towards you in the dark.

"i heard you crying." he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice nearly threatens to break you again.

"i'm sorry, i should've been more quiet." you reply, as he sits down on the bed across from you.

"it's fine, i.... fuck, it's not fine."

you blink in surprise, knowing that it was rare to hear nanami swear.

"of course it's not fine, i can't imagine how painful this whole ordeal must be for you. you've been incredibly strong and brave to tolerate me this long. i am just amazed that i would've managed to land someone like you as my wife."

you want to respond, but all you can feel is the wave of sadness rushing over you again, his sweet words piercing your heart like daggers.

"i... i can't sleep." you whisper into the night. it feels easier to admit it when it's dark, and you can't see how intensely he'd be looking into your eyes, as if he's staring into your soul.

"could i stay with you?" nanami asks, before clarifying. "until you fall asleep."

"you can stay for as long as you want."

his weight leaves the mattress for a moment before he settles down next to you, his familiar cologne washing over your senses.

"can i... hug you?" he asks, voice so gentle, as if he's afraid you're going to break at any moment.

"yes please." you manage to get out, before you're full on sobbing again, staining his shirt with your tears. his arms are now around your back as he scoops you onto his chest, his rough fingers drawing soothing circles on your back. his lips find his way to the crown of your head, and he wishes nothing more but to take some of the pain away from you.

but he can't.

"i'm so, so sorry love." he whispers against your head, lips trembling. "i wish i could remember."

you don't respond, rather, you can't. he's hugging you in bed like everything's normal. he's speaking to you as if he's your nanami, your husband, the same nanami who would bring home pastries on his way back from work and take baths with you on nights you couldn't sleep.

eventually, you feel emptied out of your tears, your limbs finally feeling heavy. his steady heartbeat against your ears lulls you to sleep, your fingers naturally grasping his thin shirt, crinkling the fabric.

"don't leave." you whisper, half-asleep.

"i won't." he whispers back, hugging you closer.

that's the last confirmation you need before your breathing evens out and he's sure you're asleep, your chest rising and falling in regular rhythms.

and despite nanami's eyes begging to close, his mind feels wide awake and sleep won't come to him easily. his nerves are on fire as he hugs you closer to his frame.

looking at your face in the dark, the small green glow of the alarm clock carving shadows onto your face, he presses a small kiss to your forehead and swears to himself he'll remember.

he'll die trying if he has to.

a/n: second ever fic on this blog! i was feeling angsty/slow burn today so wanted to give the loss memory trope a try. seriously am a sucker for pining gentleman!nanami. apologies for any medical inaccuracies in this fic btw i'm not a med student/professional so i googled a few things and called it a day lmao. lowkey tempted to write a part 2 to this if this does well :)

ᯓ★ likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ᯓ★

[wonkyjaw]

Sometimes small gentle gestures just completely wreck me. Just little things. Tiny unnecessary kindnesses. Fill my heart with something like love like hope.

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three

[wcnderlnds]

back for you ★ hwang jun-ho

・❥・ summary: now that junho is free from the memories that had plagued him for so long, he's ready to start his life over with you. unfortunately, his brother inho has a habit of trying to ruining that for him. ・❥・word count: 2.1k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. fingering in an elevator, swearing. established relationship. SQUID GAME S3 SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. ・❥・authors note: i swear to you this wasn't meant to be smut but i have a lot of junho feelings. im also bad at writing kids so... i'm so sorry in advance for how bad this might be.

Those first few weeks after Junho had finally found the island only to not get the closure from his brother that he had been craving had been eye opening for him. For so long, he had been focused on finding his brother, getting the answers to the questions that had plagued him for years. It had consumed his life, took over every single thing he did but now? Now, he knew he was never going to know and maybe that was okay. He had done his part, he had tried his best. There was nothing more he could do but move on with his life. So, that’s what he did.

It hadn’t been easy at first, it had taken a lot of time for him to find his new purpose but he had you to help him along the way. Being in a relationship with Junho over the last few years hadn’t been easy but through every single thing, you had stuck by him. That had meant more to him than he could even put into words. A future with you – that was his purpose now. You had been together for about five years. Junho had never wanted to commit fully knowing that he couldn’t give himself to you one hundred percent but now he could. That was why two months after everything had happened with the island, he got down on one knee and proposed to you.

Being your fiance was the greatest honour of his life. It was so freeing knowing that he could finally give himself to you so completely, finally.

“I really liked the red velvet one but the strawberry one was so nice, too,” you said excitedly. The two of you walked hand in hand down the street back to your apartment. Wedding planning was in full swing and today you’d been out cake tasting. It had been yours and Junho’s favourite part of the whole planning process so far. Who wouldn’t love sitting down and trying different cakes for an hour?

“I liked the strawberry one, too. Maybe we should book another tasting just to be sure,” he grinned, wrapping his arm around your shoulder instead to pull you into his side. You immediately wrapped your arm around his waist, looking up at him with a smile.

“I like the way you think, Hwang.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

You laughed which only made the smile on Junho’s face brighter. There was nothing more precious to you than seeing that smile on his face. For so long, all you had seen was him struggling, a smile a rare oddity as he searched for his brother. Life had taken so much from him but now he seemed so carefree. He seemed like the Junho you had met all those years ago back in high school. The one who laughed at everything, who enjoyed the small things in life. You knew deep down that he still thought about Inho and what could have been. You couldn’t blame him. Inho had been such an important part of his life – he had basically raised Junho but he wasn’t the man that Junho had once known. He was a completely different person now. That was why he had finally decided to move on. The brother he once had was long gone, replaced by a stranger he didn’t know. There would always be a part of Junho that was missing but as long as he had you, he knew he’d be okay.

“Is the elevator actually working today? I don’t want to walk up all the stairs again,” you scanned the lobby of your apartment building, eyes lighting up when you saw that the elevator was actually working. 

“Guess they fixed it while we were out,” Junho pressed the button, the elevator doors opening. He guided you inside, pressing the button to the sixth floor where your shared apartment was. As you rested your back against the cool metal wall of the elevator, Junho grabbed you by the waist, his hot breath fanning over your face as he gazed down at you with adoring eyes. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?”

“Maybe once or twice but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again,” you rested your hands on the plane of his chest, feeling his muscles tense through his shirt. Junho leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up. Junho’s tongue traced along the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. The second you parted your lips, his tongue met yours in a heated dance. Each time you kissed, it felt like the first time. The sparks ever present like you couldn’t get enough of each other. Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him as close to you as humanly possible.

Junho’s hand danced along the waistband of your jeans, popping the button open and dipping inside. His fingers slowly, teasingly ran along your panties, already feeling the damp spot forming there. It made him groan into the kiss. It never ceased to amaze him how your body reacted to him, just one simple touch made you a complete mess. Intimacy had been far and few over the years but now he was making up for lost time. Any opportunity he could take to show you how much he loved you, he was going to grasp. His fingers rubbed slow circles against your core, a breathy whine falling from your lips. A smirk adorned his face; he had you right where he wanted you.

“Junho, please,” you said breathlessly. You bucked your hips into his hand trying to seek more friction. There were only a few more floors before you’d reach yours and you so badly needed him to finish what he was starting.

As if sensing your desperation, he slipped his fingers inside your panties, his long digits sliding through your folds with ease. Your slick coated his fingers, making him groan, aching for more. He circled your entrance with one of his fingers, easing a finger inside you which caused you to gasp, throwing your head back in ecstasy. He began moving it slowly, his thumb finding your clit. His eyes glanced over seeing you were at the third floor. He had to speed this up so he moved faster, pumping his finger into you with increasing speed. The hand that was on your hip, held you in place, stilling your movements. When he slipped another finger inside you, the moan you let out was louder than you expected. You had never been more thankful that nobody else was in the elevator with you. Junho added more pressure with his thumb, circling your clit as his fingers drove into you. He knew your body better than anyone, he could tell that you were getting close. You just needed that push. So, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that spot that made you see stars.

“Oh my god, right there, baby, I’m so close,” you panted. The moans falling from your lips paired with how wet you were against his fingers was making his cock throb in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get you back to your apartment so he could really show you just how much he loved you.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “We’re almost at our floor. We don’t want anyone catching us, do we?”

It took one more hard thrust of his fingers before your orgasm came crashing over you. A moan of his name echoed through the elevator. He kept his fingers moving, working you through your orgasm. He could feel your release on his fingers, the sensation making him harder than before. When he was sure you were completely spent, he pulled his fingers from you. Just in time because the elevator dinged letting you know you were at your destination.

You took a moment to take a steady breath in. You needed a moment to collect yourself before you could even think about walking. Junho brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you said with a dazed smile. “Can’t wait to return the favour.”

Junho just laughed, guiding you out of the elevator and down the hall to your apartment. Before he unlocked the door, you leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing him. He tangled his fingers in your hair, savouring the feeling of your lips against his. It was a miracle that he managed to somehow open the door from behind while you were entangled with each other. He stepped back into the apartment, tearing his lips from yours momentarily. Just as he was about to speak, something caught his eye.

“What…?” He made his way over to the small bundle of blankets. His face paled as he laid eyes upon the last thing he thought he’d ever see in his apartment.

A baby.

“Junho, what’s wr-”

You were stopped in your tracks when you heard the cry of the baby. In his hands, Junho held a small card, the words ‘Player 222, winner’ written on it. Then, he pulled out a debit card, his eyes widening. “....Inho…”

It was almost on instinct that you picked the baby up, holding it against you to soothe it’s crying. You were no expert with kids but you couldn’t leave the poor thing laying there crying. It had been left here for a reason. The sound of his brother's name caught your attention, your confused eyes looking at your fiance with question. “...Inho did this?”

“I… yeah, I think so.” He paused. Never had he felt his heart hammering against his chest so hard before. A sense of panic washing over him. He may not be a detective anymore but it didn’t take one to figure out what this meant.  “I need to… uh, I need to go to an ATM.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re kidding me?!” You exclaimed loudly, the baby safely in your arms as you looked over Junho’s shoulder to see the balance on the ATM.

45.6 billion won.

Junho looked like he’d seen a ghost, all the memories of everything he’d witnessed on the island rushing back to him. He knew what this money was, what it meant. It was dirty money but… it was money that could help. Somehow, some way, he knew that Inho knew he needed this. He had a wedding to pay for and now… a baby to care and look after. Children had been a topic of discussion between the both of you but you had decided that you didn’t want to start trying for a few years yet, opting to enjoy just being together first before you brought a child into the world. Now, thanks to Inho, you had no choice.

Junho leaned against the wall beside the ATM. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, letting him know you were there. He wasn’t alone – he never would be again. You spoke softly, trying to reassure him. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I… we can do this. I know we’re not ready but you and me, we can do anything, yeah? We’ve been through worse.”

Junho nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“This baby has nobody, Junho. We have to give it the life it deserves. We don’t want everything that happened to be in vain.”

“I just wish he’d have.. come to me in person. Why won’t he just talk to me?” He sounded so defeated. Of course Inho had a way of ruining everything, setting Junho back just as life had gotten good for him.

“Fuck him,” you said. “What matters now is you, me and this baby. Nothing else. We’re in this together, okay? Inho is a thing of a past. It’s his loss that he’s cut you out, not yours. That is not your burden to bear. You tried, baby. You tried so hard and don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay,” Junho nodded. His eyes landed on the baby. “I saw her. All those months ago on the island. She won the games. I don’t know how, I don’t want to know how or why she was even involved in them but… we can’t ever tell her, okay? I don’t want her to ever know where she came from. Not from that place. She doesn’t deserve to live with that.”

“She won’t. She’ll have a good life with us. Now, come on. We have 45.6 billion and a baby to cater for now. We better go shopping.”

Junho had never been more thankful to have you. The way you could lighten a situation and make him feel like he was going to be okay. It was more than he could ever ask for. Raising this baby wasn’t going to be easy but together, you could do it. You could do anything.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @str8t2video @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib

[deansbeer]

a quickie with simon in the laundry room <3

♡ ⋮ minors do not interact.

you’re sorting through what feels like the millionth tiny sock when simon comes up behind you, large hands settling on your hips. “kids are occupied,” he murmurs against your neck, and you can hear the suggestion in his voice.

“si, i have to get this done,” you protest weakly, but you’re already leaning back into him. wash day waits for no one with three kids, and you're drowning in tiny clothes. “and they won’t stay distracted for long.

“exactly why we should be quick about it.” his hands slide around to your stomach, pulling you flush against him. you can feel he’s already hard, and your resolve wavers. “been thinking about you all morning, love. watching you bend over sorting laundry...”

“you’re terrible,” you breathe, but you’re already turning in his arms. five years of marriage and three kids later, and he still looks at you like he wants to devour you. “we have maybe ten minutes before someone needs something.”

“can work with that.” he’s already lifting you onto the washing machine, hands pushing up your—his—sweatshirt. “fuck, no panties? you trying to kill me?”

“it’s wash day, baby,” you remind him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “everything’s in the dirty hamper.” but your explanation dissolves into a moan as his fingers find you already wet.

“fuckin’ convenient,” he growls, working you open with practiced efficiency. there’s no time for slow and sweet — not with three kids in the house. “always so ready for me, aren’t you?”

you bite your lip to keep quiet as he replaces his fingers with his cock, pushing in with one smooth thrust. “simon,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. “fuck, we have to be quiet.”

“then you’d better keep that pretty mouth shut,” he says, setting a punishing pace immediately. the washing machine rocks with the force of it, and you have to brace yourself against the wall. “can’t have the little ones hearing what daddy does to mummy.”

the filthy words in his rough accent make you clench around him. he notices, of course he does, and grins against your neck. “like that, do you? knowing i’m fucking you while our babies play down the hall?”

before you can respond, there's a loud bang on the door. “mommy! mommy, open!” your five-year-old’s voice cuts through your haze of pleasure. “need you!”

simon doesn’t stop, if anything going harder. “mummy’s busy, swee’eart," he calls out, voice impressively steady for someone currently railing you against major appliances. “go play with yer sister.”

“but mommy!” another bang. “emma took my doll!”

you try to answer but simon chooses that moment to hit that perfect spot inside you, and all that comes out is a strangled sound. he covers your mouth with his hand, eyes dark with amusement and lust.

“mummy’s folding clothes,” he lies smoothly. “she’ll be out in a minute. go tell emma t’share.”

“don’t want to!” your daughter whines, and you can hear her stomping her little feet. “want mommy now!”

“hazel.” simon’s voice drops into what you call his lieutenant voice — gentle but brooking no argument. “go play. we’ll be out soon.”

there’s a moment of silence, then you hear her stomp away muttering about simon being unfair. the second she’s gone, simon removes his hand from your mouth.

“such a good girl,” he praises, but you’re not sure if he means you or hazel. “keeping quiet while i fuck you senseless. though i bet you wanted to scream, didn’t you?”

“simon, please,” you gasp, feeling your orgasm building embarrassingly fast. the combination of his cock and the thrill of almost getting caught has you on edge. “i’m gonna—“

“i know, love. she’s squeezing me.” his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. “c’mon then. come on my cock before another one starts banging on the door.”

as if on cue, you hear your two-year-old calling from somewhere in the house. “where mama?”

“bloody hell,” simon curses, speeding up. “better hurry up, mrs. riley.”

the use of your married name plus the perfect pressure on your clit sends you over. you bite his shoulder to muffle your cry as you come all over his cock, whole body shaking with the force of it. he follows right after, groaning low in your ear as he fills you.

“mama!” your toddler’s voice is getting closer.

“shit,” simon pants, pulling out and quickly fixing his clothes. he helps you down, steadying you when your legs wobble. “you good?”

“just peachy,” you breathe, smoothing down his sweatshirt. you can feel his cum starting to leak and clench your thighs together. “though i’m going to need to shower before i finish this laundry.”

he grins, that satisfied male look that makes you want to smack him and kiss him in equal measure. “could always join you later. after bedtime.”

“unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re smiling as you unlock the door. your two-year-old is standing there, clutching his stuffed bear and looking pathetic.

“mama!” he reaches up for you immediately. “missed you.”

“missed you too, baby boy,” you coo, scooping him up despite your shaky legs. simon’s hand on your lower back steadies you, and you shoot him a grateful look.

“dada!” your son notices simon and reaches for him instead. “play?”

“‘course, mate.” simon takes him easily, throwing him up in the air just to hear him giggle. “let’s go see what your sisters are up to, yeah? mummy needs to finish the washing.”

he gives you a heated look over your son’s head. “all the washing. very thoroughly.”

“go,” you laugh, shooing them away. “before i put you on laundry duty.”

“love you too,” he calls back, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

you turn back to the washing machine, legs still trembling slightly. the laundry still needs to be done, you’re going to need that shower sooner rather than later, and you can already hear what sounds like an argument brewing in the playroom. but simon’s looking at you like that again from the doorway, your son babbling happily in his arms, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

well. maybe a lock on the laundry room door.

[monstersholygrail]

The second Squid Hybrid Suitor stumbles into your room he immediately trips over a pair of shoes by the door and flops right into what he hopes is your bed. Convenient? Yes. But also incredibly embarrassing? Yes again.

His awkward chuckle is the only sound in the room. He looks up to meet your small smiling face, not an inch of excitement in your expression. Fuck, only you could make that so sexy.

If you told him you changed your mind and that he could go but to leave the cock, he’d probably collapse in front of you and cum on the spot. But you didn’t, no instead you crawled onto the bed, hovering over him.

He was lost to your spell, far worse than any siren but just as deliciously cruel. He’d give anything for more, he was practically panting for it like it was mating season.

Maybe it was. Fuck, he should check—

His mind spins, still not believing this is completely real. But then you cup his cheek and all thoughts fly out of his cute little head till all he could think about was you and how damn good your weight felt above him, your luscious curves just within reach, and your fat ass pressed down on his crotch.

Dammit, he was so out of his depth here. A sharp needy mewl left him as you took his cock from his hand and started grinding against it.

You oozed confidence and calm as you used him so shamelessly. He was in awe of you. Especially compared to him who’s never felt the pleasure of being inside someone’s wet cunt.

You’d be his first. And he wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. You were absolutely perfect in every way. Everything you did made him so hard he could barely think.

Like right now as you slip his tentacle cock past the seam of those shorts that show off your thick drool-worthy thighs, teasing your entrance with his throbbing tip. His hips still buck as if that’ll do anything but he can’t help how his body reacts to you.

How the fuck will he not explode the moment he’s inside you?! He had to resist, had to make it seem like he was as experienced as you. That way you’d think he was as cool as you. But the truth comes pouring out.

“A-ah, just to let— nngh— fffuck, just so you know… this is m-ah-my first time. Not been with anyone, anyone else,” he stutters as he feels his cock slide through your slick folds.

Why, why, why, would he admit that? Is he an idiot? If he is it’s only when it comes to you.

You chuckle, the sound dripping with pity amusement and he groans, long pretty lashes fluttering back. He’s leaking even harder now, making you a slippery mess that has you moaning for him. A sound he’s ready to beg to hear more of.

“How cute.”

That prick of humiliation burns in his gut and it’s like you know exactly what it does to him as you slam his cock inside of you at the same exact time. Squid Hybrid Suitor gasps, stars in his eyes as he feels your tight molten walls suffocate his thick cock.

And it’s like something takes hold of him as before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s smacking your hand out of the way and replacing it with his own as he starts pounding away at you. Ruthlessly pumping his tentacle cock as deep inside of you as it can go.

A flicker of surprise passes your face, the biggest reaction he’s gotten from you, and then you’re moaning so loud for him, your pussy fluttering around his girth.

You both lose count of how many orgasms he brings you too and he has no clue how long he’s been in this room. Who cares about time when he has the sexiest person ever on top of him?

He just wants to keep slamming his cock inside your tight dripping cunt, no skill or finesse to his movements, he just keeps driving it in and out and in and out in a cycle that makes you dizzy.

What drives him the most crazy isn’t even the feeling of your walls sucking in his cock with every thrust but the way you almost refuse to moan for him. He feeds off your tiny whimpers like crumbs and he yearns to make you scream.

“Need to— mmph, fuck— fill you, pl-please,” he begs, scrambling to undress you both.

The moment he sinks into your perfect pussy, feeling the full sensation of you gripping him, milking him, it’s like a kraken is unleashed inside of him. He starts fucking into you like an absolute beast, forcing shocks of pleasure to echo throughout your body.

You can see the way he’s floundering around inside of you, his thick cock still mixing up your insides. But it’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Placing your hands on his surprisingly toned chest, you subtly help guide him.

Maintaining pace you start riding him, making his cock reach new depths, hitting places even you never knew existed. Realization dawns on his face as your cunt throbs and pulses around his shaft, already close to your next orgasm. So this is how he should be doing it, he thinks.

And he runs with it, switching positions so he’s on top of you and absolutely plowing into your depths. The sounds of your bodies smacking together, the loud squelch that follows every thrust just gets louder as you both cum over and over. Filling your pussy to the brim till it overflows and then quickly replacing it with a new load.

“Be my mate, please, baby, be my mate,” he begs, whimpering in your ear as your walls ripple around his length, just begging him to fill you again.

“W-what?” You ask weakly, your nonchalant persona cracking beneath the force of his thrusts.

“Be. My. Mate,” he whines out with each brutal smack of his hips. Holding your orgasm hostage, waiting your response.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing but for once during your courtship you give him a clear answer. Mewling out a needy yes as your next release rolls through you.

Squid Hybrid Suitor hisses in pleasure, his cock growling impossibly harder despite all the times he’s already cum inside you.

You won’t regret this decision. He’ll show you multiple times a day, as many as you need, just how good a mate he can be.

For more stories in the Deep Sea Courting series check out My Patreon for only $4!!

[dc-posting]

Young Tim who makes kandi/friendship bracelets for Robin and Batman (mostly Robin, he just doesn’t want Batman to feel left out) and leaves them in the Bats’ most common brooding/surveillance spots.

He does this for years, perfecting his craft. He makes bracelets with multiple chains, his beads get higher quality, his finishings improve (he learns that gluing the knot and trimming down the string is better than just tying it off and cutting it down.) and he loves to make bracelets for the two Robins, and for Nightwing, when Robin I eventually becomes his own hero.

When Jason dies, Tim sneaks over to leave kandi at his grave, nothing that would incriminate him as Robin, just things Tim thinks he would like. Kandi strung in his favourite colours, a cuff with a quote from his favourite book, intricate designs woven with pieces of Tim’s heart and his sorrow for his favourite Robin, his hero.

They’re cleared away often, but Tim replaces them with new kandi diligently.

He also turns Robin II’s favourite gargoyle into a mini shrine, bracelets and kandi chains decorating the stone high above Gotham’s streets, dedicated to his hero.

When Jason arrives to the tower, ready to break his replacement’s wings, he instead finds a sixteen year old boy sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes of beads. He has a tray in front of him, a design laid out that he is carefully transferring one by one onto the elastic string.

“Stupid Bruce clearing the stupid grave.” He mutters angrily, tying off the bracelet. “Have to replace these every other week.” He adds a dollop of glue, ties the string again, adds another bit of glue, and then sets the piece down to dry. Jason watches as he carefully manoeuvres the glued knot to rest in one of the beads, ensuring that’s its secured to itself as well as to the bead.

He would be impressed by the attention to detail if he wasn’t currently processing that Tim fucking Drake is Robin’s stalker.

He thinks back to his room at the manor, at least fifty bracelets for Robin II found on rooftops (and once, on the passenger seat of the Batmobile. God, the look on Bruce’s face.) stored securely in a plastic box at the very back of his closet. His most prized possessions. He knows Dick has one just like it.

Whatever plans for revenge being enacted through the vessel of his replacement are immediately scrapped.

“Those for me?” He asks, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms.

Tim whips around, beads clattering off the bracelet he was carefully stringing together.

“Not unless you’re my neighbour’s dead son.” He shoots back, tone aiming for joking, scrambling for his staff. Play cool, play cool.

Jason barely thinks for a moment before he removes his helmet. He peels off the domino mask, wincing as it pulls slightly.

“Uh…” Tim stalls, staff at the ready.

“You left me bracelets, all around Gotham. For years. For Nightwing too, and the Bat.” Jason tilts his head. “You said those were for your dead neighbour. You make them for me out of the mask too?” Tim nods wordlessly, stepping aside so that Jason can rifle through the pile of bracelets waiting for their glue to fully dry.

He finally finds his words as Jason starts trying on various pieces.

“I started leaving them after you- after everything. At your… grave. B and A clear them away every few weeks, I don’t know if they keep them, but I replace them.” He sounds unsure, Jason thinks that’s reasonable.

“You don’t even know me.” He says, he knows why someone would leave gifts for Robin, but Jason Todd? No way.

“You were my hero. You are my hero.” Tim responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Guess we gotta break into the manor and see where he’s hiding those bracelets then, eh?” Jason pushes through the warm feeling in his chest. He doesn’t have time to analyse that now.

“Only if you agree to let me run tests in the cave.” Tim still holds his staff in an iron grip.

Jason would expect nothing less from his Robin.

It’s only a small price to pay for those kandi after all.