#sometimes you just need to write a drabble for yourself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wafflefries13 · 6 months ago

Text

Asking Out the Twisted Wonderland Cast (Multi TWST cast X Reader)

Summary: Sometimes, you can't just wait for good things to happen to you. Time to screw your courage to the sticking place and finally ask out that boy you like!

AN: I meant for these each to be like 200 word drabbles. Some of them kind of got away from me, lol.

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Part 2: First Dates

The sounds of the NRC cafeteria clattered around the group of first years. Utensils scraping on plates, sizzling from the open window to the kitchen, a hundred different conversations from all sides. Their small group sat clustered around their table, nestled close together to be heard over the general din.

“I’m just saying,” Ace said, mouth half full.

“You’re always ‘just saying’,” Deuce said.

Ace shoved him. “I’m just saying, if you want to try out for the anchor position on the track team you have to actually ask for it. Get Coach Vargas and don’t stop bugging him until he sees what you can do! No one’s going to just wait for it to happen.”

“And I’m saying it doesn't do any good to be a nuisance when I don’t even know if I’m good enough yet. I might as well wait till tryouts next semester.”

“No, no, he’s right,” (Y/N) said, distantly.

“Yeah!” Ace said. “Wait, right about what?”

“You can’t just wait for stuff to happen to you. If you really want something you have to go and take it for yourself.” She stood abruptly, face determined. “I need to ask something.”

Ace:

“Ace!”

Ace jumped, brushing off crumbs from his jacket. “What? What did I do now?”

“Do you want to go out with me?”

Epel choked, Jack thumping him on the back. Deuce looked like she had just insulted his mother. Sebek rolled his eyes as he took another bite. Ortho gasped, leaning forward, eyes wide and excited.

“I-What?” Ace stuttered, his face rapidly turning red. “Where the heck did that come from?”

“You were just saying you shouldn’t wait for something you want. I like you, I have for a while now. So, do you want to go out?”

Ace stuttered out a reply, slapping on his normal cocky smile but decidedly not meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. “I mean, yeah, of course you fell for me! It’s about time you said something. But, um, yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”

“Well,” Deuce said, rolling his eyes. “It’s about time one of you said something.”

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

(Y/N) playfully shoved him. “Oh, please, don’t act like I haven’t noticed that you like me too. You’re not subtle about it.”

“What made you think that?”

“Ace, within the first week of me being here you asked to sleep in the same bed as me twice.”

From another table, definitely not eavesdropping, Riddle fainted.

Deuce:

“Deuce!” Deuce jumped at (Y/N) suddenly shouting his name. “I need your help with something. Can you come with me for a second?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course.” Deuce ignored Ace’s pointed look. Deuce followed (Y/N) out of the cafeteria down the halls. “Where are we going?”

(Y/N) suddenly turned around, Deuce almost colliding with her. Before he could apologize, she took his hands, looking up into his eyes as he felt blood rush to his cheeks.

“I just wanted somewhere more private,” She said. “Deuce, I really like you. Will you go out with me?”

“I-huh?! I mean, yeah, yes! I like you, too!” He rubbed the back of his head and looked away shyly. “Man, I wanted to ask you out first.”

(Y/N) grinned. “Really? How were you going to do it?”

“Well, my mom said that when my dad first asked her out he got her this big bouquet of flowers. But he ended up being allergic to them so he kept sneezing the whole time. She took him to the infirmary at their school and he had to write it down since his face was too swollen to talk.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to flowers. Maybe we can skip the rest of that, though.”

Deuce marched over to the cut out window of the hallway, opening out onto the quad. Reaching over, he plucked a fluffy pink peony from one of the bushes. He came back to (Y/N), suddenly very flustered, and held it out to her.

“(Y/N),” He began.

She clasped her hands together. “Yes?”

“Would you do me the honor of - Ah!” Deuce yelped as a bee flew out of the peony blossom, shooting for Deuce’s face to sting him.

Turns out, they did spend time in the infirmary. But, after (Y/N) kissed his cheek and gently held the flower, Deuce didn’t seem to mind too much.

Trey:

“Ow!”

Trey paused outside the Heartslabyul kitchen as he heard the exclamation from inside. He was planning on testing out a new bread recipe his parents had sent him and wasn’t expecting anyone else to be using the kitchen that day. He peaked in, seeing (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce crowded around the island in the middle. (Y/N) was blowing on a burn on her hand, Grim rifling through the pantry for various sweets, and Ace and Deuce waving away smoke from a burnt pastry freshly pulled from the oven.

“I told you!” (Y/N) said. “You can’t just raise the temperature for it to cook faster, it’ll just burn!”

“Well, sorry for trying to make your confession go faster before you chicken out,” Ace said.

“I’m not going to chicken out! Probably. Maybe. What if the pie burning is an omen?”

“I wouldn’t read too deeply into it,” Trey said, entering the kitchen. The first years jumped, (Y/N)’s eyes going wide and she stared at the floor.

“Well!” Deuce said, grabbing Ace and Grim and hurrying them out the door. “Omen or not, that’s our cue to leave. Good luck, (Y/N)!”

Silence echoed around the two of them as the door of the kitchen thunked closed. (Y/N) fiddled with her fingers, still not looking up. Trey walked around the island, looking at the smoldering pie. There was a mostly neat lattice across the bubbling fruit, with extra crust cut into letters around the rim.

“‘Trey,’” He read. “‘Will you-’”

“Ah! No, wait!” (Y/N) jumped forward, covering it with her hands. She jumped back as her palm accidentally hit the hot pie tin, giving her another burn.

“Oh, wait, hang on.” Trey quickly went over to the sink, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in cold water. He gently took her hand, pressing it to the burn. (Y/N) chewed her lip. “You know, I’d be happy to help if you want to try again. I’ve been wanting to try this new butter pie crust that’s good with custards and-”

“I really like you!” (Y/N) blurted out, face going as hot as the burn on her hand. “Would you want to go out with me? Please?”

Trey tightened his grip on her hand, careful to avoid the injury. He smiled, laughing. “I was wondering if I should say it first. I guess you beat me to it. Yes, (Y/N), I’d love to go out with you.”

Cater:

Cater was relaxing in the Heartslabyul gardens, a can of red paint discarded beside him. He hummed something the pop music club had been working on as he scrolled through Magicam. He took a quick selfie, winking, tongue out with a peace sign, before refreshing his feed.

He paused when he saw (Y/N) come across his dash. She was smiling brightly, one arm arched above her head and the other held down at an angle to create half a heart. The word ‘Will’ was written in bubbly cartoon letters in the middle. A few posts later, there was a second photo, an almost perfect mirror of the first to complete the heart. The word ‘You’ was written in the middle of this one.

Cater almost felt like he was solving a puzzle as he searched the rest of his feed for more posts. Each had (Y/N) in a dramatic pose, adding another word to complete the sentence, ‘Go,’ ‘Out,’ ‘With’, ‘Me.’ When he realized it was a request to ask someone out, he couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. He shook his head. Of course (Y/N) would be crushing on someone. With all the adventures she had gone on during their time at NRC, it would make sense to develop strong feelings. He tried to quiet the voice in his head that hoped those strong feelings would go his way. Well, whatever, that just meant he had to keep a close eye on whoever had earned her affections, maybe give them a good threatening to treat her right while he was at it.

Cater tapped on her name, taking him to her Magicam profile. It felt like just the other day when he was helping her set it up. He sighed at the happy memory. For a second, it occurred to him that the message (Y/N) had been spelling out in pictures didn’t end with a question mark. He thought it was weird. Was it a mistake? Then his eye caught on the latest picture, posted just a second before.

It was a selfie of (Y/N) holding a large bouquet of yellow and orange flowers, marigolds, daisies, and buttercups. The majority of the frame was over her shoulder, showing Cater himself sitting against the hedges. His name was drawn in the same cartoon font with a question mark, surrounded by a heart.

Cater snapped up, whirling around. He quickly whipped away the happy tears budding at the corner of his eyes as he saw (Y/N) waiting for him. The flowers were crushed between them as he scooped her up in a tight hug, both of them laughing.

(They both carefully rearranged the flowers after to be presentable for the mandatory #TogetherForever couple photoshoot after.)

Riddle:

Riddle frowned at the commotion building from the Heartslabyul common room. He could make out the familiar rising sounds of Ace and Deuce’s voices. He began marching to the source of the racket, faltering a little when he heard (Y/N)’s voice joining in. Mentally scolding himself from eavesdropping (it wasn’t eavesdropping, he was keeping tabs on his dorm mates, that’s it) he hovered near the cracked open door.

“No, wait!” (Y/N) said. “We can’t use coral roses! I said pink!”

Ace huffed. “What’s the difference?”

(Y/N) tapped a small dark red book she was holding. “Coral roses symbolize desire, pink roses mean admiration and happiness. I’m not trying to scare him off before I can even ask him out!”

Before he could even think about it, Riddle threw open the door, shouting, “Just what is going on here?”

Everyone inside jumped. Riddle swept his eyes across the room, taking in the bundles and bundles of roses in multiple colors carefully poised on every surface. Ace and Deuce were meticulously balancing a bouquet in the chandelier, plucking out the offending coral colored roses. Cater was smirking in the corner, phone poised to capture everything. Trey chuckled behind his own large bouquet of yellow roses..

“Um,” She said, startled by his interruption. Taking a deep breath, she set the book down and picked up a bouquet of lavender roses, shoving them in Riddle’s direction.

‘Lavender,’ He thought. ‘Love at first sight.’

“Riddle!” She said, probably a little too loudly. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Cater tried to break the tension with a laugh. “Aww, (Y/N),” He said. “What happened to that whole speech you had?”

“He surprised me!” She said. “Oh, wait, hang on, I still have it.” Without thinking, she shoved the bouquet in Riddle’s arms, searching her pockets to pull out a neatly folded piece of notebook paper. “Ahem. Riddle, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to Heartslabuyl with the single objective to see you. I-”

“Everyone out!” Riddle shouted. As the group scuttled to the door, he pointed at (Y/N). “Not you.”

The door thudded behind them, Ace and Deuce giving a quick thumbs up and what was supposed to be a confident smile as they left. (Y/N) crinkled the paper in her hands.

“It gets better,” She said meekly. “The speech. Although I guess in the movie it ends with a rejection too. I should have used the one from the end, or Shakespeare maybe. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more - well, I guess you're not very temperate. Wait, let me try again.”

“(Y/N),” He said. He held the lavender flowers tightly. “You know what this means?”

“Oh, the flowers? Yeah, I, um, I’ve been studying.” She picked the book back up, shyly holding it up. Riddle could read the title now: The Queen of Hearts Guide to Courtship and Love.

“You,” Riddle said, feeling his face heat up. He held up the flowers. “You mean it? Really?”

(Y/N) took a step towards him, understanding softening the worry on her face. “Of course. I wanted to ask you out and I thought, well,” She waved at the multicolored roses, laughing. “Go big or go home, right?”

“It certainly is a statement.” Riddle picked up a yellow rose with red tipping the petals and handed it to her. (Y/N) recognized the colors immediately as meaning ‘Falling in love.’ She gasped in happiness, jumping forward to wrap Riddle in a tight hug.

Leona:

“Ruggie!” Ruggie paused as he heard (Y/N) call his name. She jogged over to him where he held Leona’s typical boxed lunch order. “Hey, that’s for Leona, right? Do you mind if I bring it to him? There’s something important I have to talk to him about.” Ruggie considered it for a moment before shrugging and handing it over, but not before stealing a couple of chips to pop into his mouth as he strolled away.

(Y/N) found Leona in his normal spot, a hidden alcove in the gardens in the biodome. He was laying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, and eyes closed as he dozed. He cracked his eye open as (Y/N) approached.

“Hi,” She said, kneeling down beside him.

“Hmm,” He replied.

“I have something important to ask you.”

“Are you going to try and make me get up?” “No.”

“Alright, ask away.”

“Will you go out with me?”

Leona’s eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare at (Y/N), smiling sincerely at him, and maybe holding his lunch hostage until she got an answer.

“I really like you,” She continued. “You’re brave and confident and know exactly who you are. Sure, you can be stubborn as hell, but you also really care about people close to you. Don’t make that face, you can’t fool me. You could have easily thrown me out when Grim and I needed someplace to stay when Azul took over Ramshackle, but you didn’t. You didn’t even kick us out when we were making so much noise and annoying you, you helped us break Azul’s contracts instead. You joined the Culinary Crucible because Epel did and you wanted to keep an eye on your team mate. Please, as if you ever need to learn how to cook, I know you can’t even use a microwave. And you pretend not to notice when Ruggie steals your credit card. And there was that time you followed all of us to Playful Land because you were worried we were going to get scammed. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You’ve got a big heart of gold under that spiky exterior. And I really admire you for that. I… I really love you, Leona.”

“Well,” Leona said, laying back down, tail flicking. “I suppose going on a date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” (Y/N) decided not to point out the content smile stretching across his face. She made a move to stand up, but Leona shot an arm out to hook around her waist, pulling her down next to him with an “Oof.” “Now don’t tell anyone else about all that,” Leona grumbled without any real heat.

Ruggie:

Ruggie was in Leona’s room, folding laundry while the house warden took a nap behind him. Ruggie stretched his arms above his head, sighing when there was a satisfying pop in his back. Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open. Ruggie yelped and Leona woke with an undignified snort.

“Gah, what now?” Leona mumbled.

“Ruggie!” (Y/N) said, standing in the doorway. She was panting as if she had just run across campus (she had).

“Uh, what? Yeah? Whatever it was, I didn’t take it!”

Unperturbed, (Y/N) marched over to him, taking both his hands in hers. “You did take something.” Ruggie frantically tried to remember if he had stolen anything from Ramshackle recently. He tried not to, knowing (Y/N) was pretty much as broke as he was. It didn’t seem fair. And maybe he liked her a little too much to swipe something. “You stole my heart!” (Y/N) continued dramatically. “Will you go out with me?”

Behind them, Leona coughed to unconvincingly cover up a laugh.

Ruggie’s ears flattened to his head in shock. He reached back and batted at his tail as if that would get it to stop wagging. “I - what? Are you sure? Me? What?”

“Of course! You’re resourceful, you work hard, you’re clever, and you care a lot about your family back home. I really admire all that about you and more! Not to mention you’re super cute. So, will you go out with me?”

“Oh, just say yes already, Ruggie,” Leona said, settling down to continue his nap. “At least then I won’t have to hear you being such a sap all the time.”

Ruggie let out his signature laugh. He tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hands. “Well, sure then, why not? As long as you’re paying, right?”

Jack:

Jack and Vil were out on their daily morning run. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting the Night Raven College campus in a warm golden light. At their halfway point, they took a break, Vil stretching in his cooldown.

“You sure you don’t want to keep going with me?” Jack asked.

“No,” Vil said. “I’d rather stay slim than bulk up like you. I have my status to maintain. And besides, it looks like I would be interrupting something rather important.” He smiled knowingly and pointed with his chin a little ways down the sidewalk.

Jack turned. He felt his tail start to wag on its own when he saw (Y/N) standing by one of the Great Seven statues, drawing circles in the ground with her foot. She looked up, breaking out in a warm smile when she saw him. Vil chuckled under his breath and waved as he headed back to Pomfiore.

Jack clenched his jaw, willing his tail to stay still as he approached her. “Good morning. You’re not usually up this early, right? Is everything okay?”

(Y/N) jutted her arms out completely straight, offering up the flowering Chin cactus in her hands. “Jack!” She said. “I really like you. I love how brave you are. I love how you’re dedicated to the people you care about. I love how you can be sweet and kind even when you try to act tough all the time. Would you go out with me?”

“Yes!” Jack replied, almost before the words had even left (Y/N)’s mouth. He put his hands over hers, cradling the cactus. “I mean, yes, I would like to go out with you. Very much.”

Azul:

Azul jumped as (Y/N) slammed her hands on his desk in the VIP room of the Monstro Lounge. He quickly gathered his composer, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Well, Prefect, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have a deal for you,” She said confidently.

“Oh? I’d love to hear it.”

Smiling, she whipped out a sheet of paper and slapped it on top of the other documents Azul had spread over his desk. On the top of the page in an elegant script were the words ‘Contract of First Date.’ Azul felt a lump form in his throat as his heart sped up. He quickly scanned over the rest of the ‘contract,’ outlining the proposed date.

“Terms of the deal,” (Y/N) continued. “You, me, romantic night out. I know a guy in Craneport who said we could use one of their rowboats and I found this really cool pond with all these willow trees and fireflies. Plus I have this cute picnic basket all set up. Jamil has been teaching me how to cook, you know? Can’t say it’ll be as good as his, if we’re being honest about the terms of agreement. And the contract leaves an opening for future dates depending on the success of this one! Of course, success is not really a super definable term but you get what I mean. So, do we have a deal?”

Azul covered his face with one hand, trying desperately to ignore how red his face must be at this point. He couldn’t seem to meet her enthusiastic and twinkling eyes.

“I, uh,” (Y/N) continued, shyer this time as Azul scanned over the contract. “I really like you, Azul. A lot. So, will you go out with me?”

He looked back down at the contract where her name was written in elegant script at the bottom with space for his next to it. He cleared his throat, bringing back his practiced (definitely not shady) businessman smile. With a sweep of his pen, he said, “It’s a deal.”

Jade:

(Y/N) marched across the cafeteria, determination in her eyes. She stopped in front of a table with Jade, Floyd, and Azul. “Hi!” She said, maybe a little too loudly with nerves. Jade and Azul looked up from their conversation, Floyd pausing his efforts in making a castle out of mashed potatoes. “Jade, I really like you. Do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” Jade said, a brief moment of genuine surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into pleasant neutrality. “Well, what a pleasant surprise.”

Floyd snorted and elbowed his brother. “Shrimpy’s got a crush,” He said in a sing-song voice.

“I must admit,” Jade said, pouting with one hand on his cheek. “I always did imagine a more theatrical confession. Nonetheless, I happily acc-”

“I can do that!” (Y/N) interrupted. Holding on to Floyd’s shoulder for balance, she climbed on top of the table. She clapped her hands loudly, shouting, “Attention! Attention, please, everyone! I have an announcement!” She cleared her throat as the room fell silent. “I would like to declare my unequivocal, utter devotion and love for Jade Leech.” She heard a choking sound below her but continued on. “I am hopelessly in love, helplessly enraptured, and absolutely head over heels. And it is my deepest hope that he could return my affections. Thank you.” With that, she hopped down, beaming. There was a smattering of applause and laughter from around the room. Epel whooped from back at the first year table.

Jade’s hands covered his blushing face, fierce sharp eyes peeking out between his fingers. His mouth was split in a wide smile, sharp teeth glinting in a mixture of bashfulness, excitement, and desire.

“Congratulations, (Y/N),” Azul said. “I can barely remember that last time Jade was actually flustered.”

“Aww, look at him, he’s speechless!” Floyd teased.

(Y/N) winced. “Sorry, was that too far?”

Jade shot out with lightning speed, crushing her in his tight eel grip. “I should let you know,” He whispered to her. “I expect this level of dedication for the entirety of our relationship.”

Floyd:

Floyd darted through the stacks of the library. He could have sworn he saw Goldfish in here earlier, and he was in the mood to mess with the easily angered boy. And, while he didn’t find Riddle, he did pause as he saw (Y/N) between the books. He paused, pushing a few books aside to rest his chin on the shelf, an easy smile crossing his face as he spied on her.

She was hunched over one of the study tables, a large book propped up and open in front of her. She was diligently working on something in her hands, tongue poking out between her lips (lips that Floyd found himself thinking about more often than he would admit), looking back up at the book in front of her every so often.

Dropping down low, Floyd carefully made his way behind her, silent on his feet. Rising up to his full height behind her, unsuspecting, he jolted forward, wrapping her in a backward hug and pulling her back so the chair careened back on two legs.

“Shrimpy!” He said, taking delight in her startled squeal. “Whatcha doin’?”

“God, Floyd,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand to her chest to calm her raging heart. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she lunged forward to cover what she was working on with her arms. “Ah! Don’t look, don’t look! It’s not done!”

Floyd grinned again. “Aww, it’s not nice to keep secrets.” His hands shot out, pulling out the thing she was hiding. (Y/N) covered her face as Floyd inspected the object. It was a thick piece of twine, various polished shells, sea glass, and dried shiny scales strung throughout. Although it wasn’t exactly neat, the way it caught the sunlight cast tiny rainbows and simmers around the library. Floyd peered at the open book. It was a cultural history of merpeople in the Coral Sea. The opened chapter described mer courting rituals and marriage traditions. Floyd started cackling as (Y/N) buried her face further in her hands.

“How old is this thing?” Floyd asked, poking at the book. “I don’t even think my grandparents made courting charms.”

“Shut up,” (Y/N) mumbled. “I was trying to… Forget it.”

Floyd slipped the haphazard necklace over his neck, prying her hands away to hold them tightly in his. “I accept!” He said brightly. “This was for me, right? It better be, Shrimpy.”

She smiled and flicked his forehead. “Possibly against my better judgment, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, Floyd.”

Kalim:

Kalim knew he should probably be studying, but every time he opened a text book or looked at the notes Jamil had oh-so-carefully marked and tabbed for him, he felt his eyes start to droop and mind get fuzzy. A good after lunch walk was just what he needed, and he definitely wasn’t just saying that to put off work.

He stopped when he realized he had wandered outside Ramshackle dorm. Was that on purpose? Did he subconsciously come here, with the hope he might see (Y/N)? Kalim walked up to the front door, knocking before opening the door and calling inside.

“Hello! It’s Kalim! Can I come in?”

There was a squawk of surprise from the front sitting room. (Y/N) poked her head around the corner, flustered.

“Hi. Sure, come on in. Uh, sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Can I help?” Kalim asked, walking over to her. Peering into the sitting room, Kalim’s face lit up. Every available surface, and a few unavailable surfaces, were covered in colored and patterned paper. There were stacks and crowds of tiny paper birds littered between everything.

“I don’t know if it counts if more people make them.”

Kalim sat on one of the plush chairs, picking up a flowery piece of paper. “If what will count?”

“It’s an old superstition from my world. If you can fold 1000 paper cranes, your wish will come true. Or something like that.”

“Ooh, origami! I’ve made decorations using that before! I’m not super good at it, but I’ll help if you want.”

(Y/N) smiled and sat next to him and Kalim felt his heart flip. “Yeah, I’d like the company.”

They lost track of time folding cranes, the sun beginning to set high above the dilapidated house. They talked the whole time, jumping from topic to topic, joke to joke, without any real sense of flow. It was warm, there in the small room, not only due to the crackling fireplace.

“So,” Kalim asked eventually. “What wish were you wanting to make? If this dosen’t work out, I can help you with it!”

(Y/N) suddenly went bashful, turning away to pay extra attention to the folds of her bird. “I…” She muttered. She took a deep breath, turning to fully face Kalim. “I was going to ask you out. You have all these elaborate decorations and parties all the time. I was going to string all of these together and hang them in your room then ask you out. But, now that you’re here… Kalim, would you go out with me?”

Kalim dropped the paper crane, flinging himself across the couch to wrap her in a tight hug. “Yes! Yes, yes yes! Oh, I would love to! Huh, I guess that means I need to cancel that order of doves now. That’s how I was going to ask you out next week. Hey, we both thought of birds! That must mean we definitely belong together, right?”

Jamil:

“Be right back,” (Y/N) said, standing from the first year cafeteria table. She walked across the cafeteria until she stopped in front of Kalim and Jamil.

Jamil was shoving a napkin at Kalim. “Careful, you’re going to get sauce all over your shirt.”

“It’s fine, I’ll be careful! And besides, it’s a pretty color, right? Oh, hey, (Y/N)!”

“Hi,” She said, looking solely at Jamil. “Jamil, I really like you. Would you want to go out with me?”

Kalim gasped, hands to his cheeks as he looked excitedly from Jamil to (Y/N). Jamil sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his hands. “I…” He started. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I can’t.”

“Oh.” Jamil looked down, but not before he caught the hurt confusion on (Y/N) face. “That’s okay. Thanks for hearing me out. Bye, guys.” She walked back to her table.

Jamil only looked up again when Kalim slapped his arm. “Jamil! That was your chance!”

Jamil scowled. “There is no chance. I said no, she accepted it. Drop it.”

“But you told me you liked her!”

“I said no such thing.”

Kalim waved his hand dismissively. “I read between the lines.”

“There were no lines!”

“Jamil.” He looked up at Kalim. It wasn’t often the other boy used such a serious voice, or had such a set expression on his face. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy because you feel like you don’t deserve it.”

Jamil flinched back, standing suddenly. A million retorts zipped through this mind at once, all of them falling flat and dying on his tongue. Before he could say something he would regret, heart thundering in his ears, he fled the cafeteria, ignoring the stabbing looks from the first year table as (Y/N)’s friends gave her sympathetic pats on the back.

Jamil couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the soft, even breathing of his roommate. Huffing in annoyance, he threw off the covers and left his room. He thought he would just take a walk, just get some fresh air. Without paying attention, Jamil’s feet took him out of Scarabia, across campus, and, before he knew it, in front of Ramshackle dorm. His fist hovered in front of the door, internally debating whether or not he should knock. He startled when he heard talking behind him, spotting (Y/N) and Malleus making their way up the pathway.

(Y/N) stopped when she saw him. “Oh. Hi, Jamil.”

“Hi,” Jamil said, limply lifting a hand in greeting.

Malleus looked down at Jamil, glaring. “Viper.” It sounded more like an insult than his name.

“Did you need something?” (Y/N) asked. “It’s kind of late. Is everything okay?”

“I-” Jamil started. “I need to talk to you.”

Malleus stepped in front of (Y/N), but stopped when (Y/N) put a hand on his arm. They had a quick and quiet conversation, Malleus nodded and walked away. (Y/N) came up to the front door, opening it for him.

“I’ll make some tea,” She said as they stepped into the entryway.

“Wait-” Jamil said, catching her hand. Everything tumbled out of him all at once. “I wanted to go out with you. I like you, so much so that it scares me sometimes. That’s why I said no earlier. I just think - I thought you would - should - do better than me, after everything that’s happened. But I -” He paused, only realizing now how out of breath he was. (Y/N) looked up at him and he felt breathless all over again. “I want to do better. I want to be better, for you if not for anything else. I know I probably don’t deserve it but, (Y/N), will you go out with me?”

(Y/N) laughed, wiping away tears at the corners of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.”

Vil:

Something was wrong, Vil could feel it. After all the chaos of his time at Night Raven College, he had almost developed a sixth sense for this type of thing.

Vil narrowed his eyes, sweeping them over the Pomfiore sitting room. A group of students were sitting around one of the tables, studying. A few others were in front of the fireplace. A couple others were performing some viral dance for a Magicam reel. Nothing seemed amiss here.

Vil walked down the hall of the dorm, heels clicking against the marble floor. With a missed step, Vil realized he hadn’t seen Epel or Rook in quite some time. That was… concerning. He quickened his walk.

Vil almost gave himself whiplash as he passed by the ballroom. The door was cracked open ever so slightly so he could peer through. He felt slightly ridiculous, eavesdropping as if he wasn’t the caretaker for the dorm and all those in it. But his thoughts faltered as he observed the scene inside. He found Epel and Rook, as well as several other Pomfiore students, constructing elaborate sets out of painted cardboard and repurposed decorations from the dorm. Was that…? Something about this all seemed eerily familiar.

“Wait, wait! You’re early!” (Y/N) said. She appeared in front of him, waving her hands to try and block his view. She grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room. “Don’t look!” She pushed him back into the hall, disappearing back into the ballroom. A second later, she emerged with a chair, setting it down and waving to it. “Just another few minutes.” The door clicked closed behind her before Vil could say anything. He thought about barging in, demanding an explanation. But his curiosity got the better of him. And besides, he always loved to see what (Y/N) got up to. Huffing in amusement, he sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles.

A while later, Epel, Rook, and the other students fled the ballroom, giving Vil knowing looks as they passed. With skepticism, Vil stood up and made his way inside. Standing in the doorway, he was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. Taking a better look, he recognized the replica set. It was from one of his first ever movies, a children’s adventure called The Heist of the Everlasting Rose. This particular scene was set in a museum where the Everlasting Rose was kept. It had been a supporting role, where, ironically, he had played a child actor in part of a crew to steal the titular Rose to pay for the main character’s sister’s surgery, or some other such justifiable nonsense like that. It was his first big screen production, although it was a relatively low-budget and minor movie. He remembered after the film had come out he and his father would pour over reviews praising his performance. At that moment, he felt like he was on top of the world.

Vil was brought out of his reminiscing by (Y/N)’s voice. “Hello, sir!” She said. She had put on a tour guide’s jacket, once again modeled after the one in the film. “Welcome to the museum! We have our prized exhibit right this way.” Vil smirked, humoring her, if nothing else than to see where this was all going. Linking their arms, (Y/N) brought him through the makeshift museum. “Legend has it that this rose was given by a cursed prince to his beloved, who saved him from the brink of death with its magical powers. Since then, it has been a symbol of pure and everlasting love.” She carefully lifted the cloche from the silk flower, tiny fairy lights arranged around the base. She held it out to him, one hand dramatically pressed to her chest. “And now, I’d like to give it to you, Vil, to profess my everlasting love. Would you go out with me?”

Vil couldn’t help it, it was all too much. The extravagant set, (Y/N) memorizing specific passages from such an old and now obscure film, the entire production. He burst out laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed. “Well,” He said, catching his breath. “After such a wonderful effort, how could I possibly say no? Yes, my dearest (Y/N), I would love nothing more than to be with you.”

Rook:

“(Y/N), you’re gonna shoot your eye out.”

“No, it’ll be fine. You have to take risks for the sake of love.”

“Oh, Seven, we don’t need two of you.”

Rook’s ears picked up, hearing Epel and (Y/N) talking in the back gardens of the Pomefiore dorm. Smiling, he crept around to (definitely not) spy on them. (Y/N) was struggling with a large bow, an arrow flopping around as she tried to aim it. Pomfiore had a small target practice area set up in the back of the dorm. (Y/N) was trying, emphasis on trying, to shoot arrows at one of the red and white round targets. After her latest arrow struck the ground in front of the target, Epel sighed and walked to the target, collecting other fallen arrows. He stabbed them into the target in the shape of a heart, a letter with Rook’s name pinned to the bullseye.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Epel said.

“Oh? And what favor are you performing, Monsieur Pommette?” Both of them jumped, Rook smiling wider at the surprised squeak (Y/N) made.

“You’re on your own, (Y/N)!” Epel said before rushing off.

(Y/N) huffed. “Traitor,” She said under her breath. She turned to Rook. “Hi.”

“Bonjour, Trickster.”

“You’re, uh, early. I thought you were going to be at your club for a while longer.”

Rook waved a hand. “There was an unexpected explosion and we had to evacuate. But I am much more interested in what you’re up to here.”

“Ah, well…” She trailed off, limply pointing to the letter stabbed in the target. She covered her face with her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks as Rook elegantly plucked the letter up and began reading.

(Y/N) could basically see the hearts forming in his eyes as he finished reading her confession. He dramatically clutched the love letter to his chest, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, mon amour le plus cher! Comme c’est merveilleux de lire vos sentiments les plus caret! Je n’ai jamais vu quelque chose d’aussi beau!”

“So,” (Y/N) asked nervously. “Is that a yes?”

“Oui, oui! One thousand times oui!” He cheered as he gathered her in a swinging hug.

Epel:

Epel found the first note the day after (Y/N)’s announcement in the cafeteria. Whatever she had wanted to do was apparently pretty important, as she had grabbed Grim and they left immediately. Epel hadn’t seen her the rest of the day, but he would recognize that handwriting on the paper wrapped around his dorm room handle anywhere.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching before unfolding the paper and reading. ‘Epel, I have something important I need to ask, but before that I have a simple task. Take this first note of the set and go to the place we first met. Love, (Y/N).’ Epel tried not to think too much about that ‘Love�� part. Where did he and (Y/N) first meet? At this point it almost felt like they had known eachother forever.

Would that be, maybe, the well in the quad? Epel remembered meeting her, Ace, Deuce, and Grim there when he was rehearsing singing, using the well’s acoustics. But, no, they had seen each other somewhere else first. Epel blushed in embarrassment at the memory. He had been crying, frustrated to hell and back with Vil’s lectures right after coming back from winter break. He’d run into them at the Great Seven statues.

Epel went to the statues, deciding if he didn’t find anything there he would try the well. But, lo and behold, another note was waiting at the base of the Fairest Queen’s statue. He read, ‘Epel, Congrats on finding your second clue! By now you have an idea of what to do. For the next place I want you to go, think of the place we lived side by side before the show. Love, (Y/N).’

That one was easy, Ramshackle dorm. As Epel sprinted across campus, both notes held tightly in his fist, he reminisced about spending his days training for the VDC in Ramshackle. Most of the time there seemed like torture, running endless dancing drills, feeling constricted by Vil’s lessons whose purpose he still didn’t fully understand at the time, worrying about the whole dorm falling down around his ears at any moment. But there were plenty of good moments too. (Y/N) making them - Vil approved - breakfast in the morning, her encouragement at each of their rehearsals, how she would slip them treats when Vil and Rook’s backs were turned to help boost their mood.

Sure enough, Epel found his next note on the Ramshackle front gate. There was another rhyme instructing him to go to another location, also connected to his and (Y/N)’s relationship and past. That lead to another and to another and another, each unlocking a precious memory between the two. Eventually, he unfolded the final note, the sun just starting to set, casting NRC in beautiful golden light. ‘Epel, I hope by now you get to see exactly how much you mean to me. We’ve been through a lot and I’ve enjoyed every and I’ve enjoyed every second, and… Okay, I can’t come up with any more rhymes. Just turn around!’

Lowering the paper, Epel turned, opening his arms just in time to catch (Y/N) in a big hug. They spun around each other for a second with the momentum, finally coming to a stop and looking to each other's eyes.

“Hi,” (Y/N) said. “Did you like my scavenger hunt?”

“You’re bad at rhyming,” Epel said with a crooked smile.

She wacked his shoulder. “Hey, I meant what I wrote, though. I really like you, Epel. Would you go out with me?”

Epel squeaked her tight. “Only if you promise not to write any more poetry.”

Idia:

Idia was holding out in his room, huddled under a blanket, his phone clutched tight in his hand. He was watching a live stream from his favorite idol group, Premo. He smiled as the group answered fan questions, talked about their upcoming tour, and demonstrated how to perform some of their most famous dance moves.

The viewer chat scrolled across the side of the screen. Donations and chat reactions popped up in various animations across the screen. Idia hit the donate button, sending a flurry of roses blooming along the edges of the screen. He smiled as the idols thanked Gloomurai for his support.

One of the idols leaned over, checking the chat feed. She gasped, flapping a hand at the others and enthusiastically pointing at what she was reading. They all started smiling and giggling, whispering to each other. Idia shuffled closer, as if that would let him read whatever message they had gotten.

“Hey, everyone!” One of them said. “We’ve got a super special shout-out! This is from (Username) to… Gloomurai!”

Idia’s heart raced as he sat up in bed, blanket draped over him. (Username), (Username)... Wait, he recognized that. That was your username! He had helped you set up your account to the MMO he played a while ago. He remembered helping you through the intro stages, stumbling over the tutorials. He had laughed at your frustrated frown as you died on the same boss for the third time.

“Aww,” The second idol said. “This is sweet. It says, ‘Gloomurai, I thought about telling you this in person, but I wasn’t sure when that would actually be. And sometimes big feelings require big gestures. I like you, I really, really like you. I think I have for a long time. I love your smile, I love your hair, I love your brain, I love that you’re such an amazing big brother. Will you go out with me?’ Well, Gloomurai? Tell us your answer! We’re waiting on pins and needles here!”

“Oh, wait,” The third idol said. “There’s more. It says, ‘PS, check your door.’”

Idia yelped as he shot up, the blanket falling to a heap on the floor. Heart thundering in his chest and head starting to go fuzzy. He almost felt like he was in a daze as he walked with trepidation to his door. Slowly opening it, Idia saw a basket placed just in front. It was filled with his favorite snacks, small acrylic standees of characters from his favorite games and anime, and studded with bluebells, irises, and blue asters. A large paper heart was pinned to the front with her and his initials drawn in the middle. Hair flaring pink, he quickly brought the basket back into his room before any of his dorm mates would notice.

He heard commotion from his phone, Premo and the chat all eagerly awaiting his response. He sent in another donation with a simple, “Yes.” The idols cheered and squealed.

He swiped out of the livestream, opening his messaging app. (Y/N)’s name popped up with a new message, a cheering emoticon with three blue hearts.

He subconsciously covered his face as he smiled wide, typing back, “You’re so cringe. Can’t wait for the date.”

Silver:

(Y/N) sprinted across campus, heading whipping around to try and catch a familiar shimmer of silver white hair. She skidded to a stop when she saw a black Diasamonia coat draped over a low tree branch, a pair of shined boots sticking out behind the trunk.

(Y/N) rounded the old oak tree. “Silv-! Oh, sorry.”

Silver was reclining against the tree, hands folded across his stomach, chest rising and falling with deep even breaths, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept. A few songbirds and a pair of squirrels congregated around him, looking up with big eyes at the newcomer.

(Y/N) shifted her weight from foot to foot before screwing up her courage and sitting down next to Silver. She shuffled down so she laid next to him, still leaving enough room to not cause too much of a scandal if anyone walked by. She settled down, closing her eyes and relaxing, taking in the sounds of the woodland animals around them, the talking of other students in the distance, the wind whispering through the trees.

A short while later, she heard stirring next to her. (Y/N) blinked awake quickly, propping herself up and leaning back on her hands as Silver woke up beside her.

“Hi,” She said. “Would you want to go out with me?”

Silver blinked the sleep out of his eyes, looking up at her. “I must still be dreaming,” He muttered. “If I am, then…” He reached forward, cupping the back of her head and pulling her down. She gasped as their lips brushed. Silver’s eyes suddenly shot open and he jerked back from her as if burned. “I- uh-” He studded, pale skin turning a ruby red.

(Y/N) giggled at his embarrassment. “Well, I guess that’s a yes, right?”

Sebek:

“Be right back!” (Y/N) said as she suddenly stood from the first year cafeteria table. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, she was off like a shot.

“Any idea what that was about?” Epel asked. The others shrugged.

Grim reached over to snag half (Y/N)’s sandwich from her discarded tray. “Probably going to go ask out that boy she keeps talking about,” He said nonchalantly, mouth full.

Sebek choked, standing fast and slamming his hands on the table so all their plates and cutlery clattered. “What!”

“Chill, man,” Ace said, waving him down as people across the cafeteria turned to stare. Ace smirked. “Unless you’re particularly invested in (Y/N)’s love life?”

Sebek blushed and slammed back into his seat. He picked his knife and fork back up and started sawing at his Salisbury steak. “No,” He snapped. “(Y/N) can do whatever she wants. What do I care?”

“Sure,” Epel said.

(Y/N) reappeared in the cafeteria a short while later, Malleus in tow. She was talking with him, gesturing with her hands. Malleus had a wide, amused smile, nodding along.

Sebek stood again, at attention for his prince. “Good afternoon, Lord Malleus!” He said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” He scowled at the other first years rolling their eyes at his formality.

“Hello, Sebek. I’ve come to give my blessing.”

“Blessing?”

“Sebek!” (Y/N) said brightly. She took both his hands in hers as he sputtered and blushed. “I really like you. Would you go out with me?”

For once, Sebek was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. (Y/N) squeezed his hands tighter as Malleus chuckled next to them. “Well, Sebek? It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

Life seized back into the knight. He tightened his grasp on (Y/N), pulling her closer. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean, ahem, I accept your offer of courting, since you went so far to get my lord’s blessing, after all.”

Lilia:

Lilia wouldn’t call what he was doing skulking, exactly. More like surprise chaperoning, keeping an eye on the youngsters of Night Raven College like a good upperclassman should. And, if he just so happened to pop out and scare the living daylights out of whatever unfortunate student happened to be nearby, well, more fun for him.

So it wasn’t especially surprising when he heard Silver and (Y/N) talking to each other in the courtyard. As a sly smile stretched across his face, he floated to a hiding place in the shadows of the flying buttresses, resting on his stomach to kick his feet, chin resting in his hands, as he observed the two.

“You want my permission?” Silver asked, an amused smile on his face.

“Of course!” (Y/N) replied. “I wouldn’t want to make it weird by dating him while we’re all still students together.”

Lilia faltered. That was the problem with spying, sometimes you heard things you didn’t want to. So the Prefect was romantically interested in someone, eh? And if they were asking Silver for permission, it must be someone close to him. Sebek, maybe? Or, oh dear, Malleus? Lilia knew for a fact that both of the boys thought of (Y/N) as a close and dear friend and nothing more. His heart panged in sympathy at the idea of rejection. And, if he was being honest with himself, it panged with something else as well.

“You don’t think he’s a little old for you?” Silver asked teasingly.

“Maybe I like a silver fox,” (Y/N) teased right back.

Silver laughed. “I don’t think I ever want to hear my father described as a silver fox ever again.”

Lilia lost his concentration, falling with a yelp against one of the chandeliers hanging in the hallway.

“Lilia?” (Y/N) asked with a gasp.

Lilia smiled, trying to regain poise as he floated down to them. “Looks like I’m not as slick as I used to be. Now, what were you two discussing just now?”

(Y/N) look startled. Silver gave her shoulder a reassuring pat and left with a wave. Just the two of them now, (Y/N) took a deep breath, building up her courage.

“Lilia!” She said, probably a little too loudly with nerves. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?”

Lilia chuckled, leaning close to enjoy the shy and flustered look on her face. “Well, if you have my son’s blessing, how am I to refuse? Besides, I think I rather like being called a, what was it you said? A silver fox?”

Malleus:

Malleus looked up from his book, looking around his room for the source of the noise that disturbed his studying. There, another sharp ‘ping’ from across the room. He looked to the window, noticing a small pebble hitting the glass. He walked over and opened the window, dodging just in time to miss another pebble.

“Oops! Sorry, Horton!” He looked down, a smile automatically crossing his face at (Y/N)’s voice. But his expression quickly changed to puzzlement as he looked down at her. (Y/N) was standing in the courtyard of the Diasomonia dorm, inside a giant heart made of dozens of tiny tea candles.

In a swirl of green light, Malleus appeared next to her on the ground floor. She jumped a little bit at his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered herself and beamed up at him. He felt his heart flip in that pleasant way it always did when he was near her.

“What’s all this?”

She cleared her throat dramatically, dropping to one knee. “Dearest Horton, you have bewitched me body and soul. I would like to officially court you. Would you do me the absolute pleasure of accompanying me on a date this weekend?”

Malleus blinked down at her for a moment, basking in the admiration and adoration filling her eyes. He laughed, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to standing. “My, how formal,” He said.

She smiled, shrugging. “I wanted it to be memorable. Couldn’t manage the fireworks, though. Sorry.”

“I can rectify that.” With an elegant sweep of his hand, sparks erupted from Malleus’s fingertips, shooting into the dark sky around the dorm to explode in fantastic colors. Students from in the dorm leaned out windows to admire the impromptu show.

Malleus drew (Y/N) closer to him, admiring the multicolor flashes playing across her face. “I would adore being anywhere with you.”

1K notes · View notes

petalbcrnes · 23 days ago

Text

❀﹒﹒⇅﹒𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ╱ with JASON TODD & DICK GRAYSON ㄨ BLACK WIDOW ! READER ꩜ .ᐟ ⠀⠀ hcs & drabbles. ⠀·⠀ ୭

　　﹕ (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈) ┈ #directory #rules . ♡ ﹒ this ask made me rethink the whole ‘reqs closed but suggestions open’ deal i gave going on rn. i cannot physically write everything req i get in my inbox,,, so i just take suggestions— no pressure to write it like a request.

❛ ꜝ ┈ ✺ cw ﹒ violence and abuse described in this work— it doesn’t take a big part of it though. a bit of angst because i cannot control myself.

𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀Your reputation precedes you—former Black Widow, perfectly trained killer, someone who understands that justice isn’t always clean or merciful. But Gotham’s protectors seem determined to complicate things. You find yourself in unfamiliar territory— a certain vigilante has wormed his way into your heart. ✶

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 ︶︶

The warehouse explosion lit up Crime Alley like the Fourth of July, and Jason couldn’t help but grin as you dropped down beside him from seemingly nowhere, not even slightly singed despite having been inside thirty seconds ago.

“Show off,” he muttered, but there was admiration in his voice.

“Says the man who literally just drove his motorcycle through a second-story window.” You checked your weapons with practiced efficiency, muscle memory from a lifetime of survival. “Find what we needed?”

“Financial records, shipping manifests, and enough evidence to put half of Falcone’s operation away.” Jason held up a hard drive. “Plus whatever you did in there should send a nice message to the rest.”

You shrugged, the movement elegant even in tactical gear. “The message needed to be loud.”

“No arguments here.” He stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in your eyes. “Bruce is gonna have an aneurysm when he finds out about tonight.”

“Good. Maybe it’ll keep him busy enough to stop lecturing us about ‘excessive force.’” Your fingers found the edge of his jacket, tugging him closer. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind my methods when I saved your ass in there.”

Jason’s laugh was rough around the edges. “Pretty, I never mind your methods. Just wish you’d give me a heads up. I like to watch.”

Your smile was dangerous and entirely too appealing. “Next time, I’ll put on a show.”

Jason absolutely gets your approach to justice and rarely questions your methods— if anything, he thinks you’re more efficient than the Bat-family’s usual “catch and release” program.

Will definitely team up with you on missions and enjoys the hell out of it, especially since you don’t try to hold him back from doing what needs to be done.

Gets incredibly protective when other people criticize your past or your methods, even though he knows you can handle yourself— old habits from his own experience being judged.

Loves sparring with you because you’re one of the few people who can actually challenge him, and there’s something thrilling about fighting someone who’s genuinely dangerous.

Sometimes you’ll find him reading up on Red Room techniques or Widow operations, not to judge but to better understand what made you who you are.

Has absolutely gotten into arguments with Dick and Bruce about your relationship. It’s a delicate situation. While Bruce and Dick understand you would never hurt Jason on purpose, they do worry how the methods you two choose will affect not only Jason— you as well.

There’s a twisted kind of understanding between you and Jason. I think in the end Bruce only wants the two of you to be able to find peace and not feel trapped by the blood you two have spilled.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 ︶︶

The Blüdhaven rooftop was slick with rain as you materialized from the shadows, silent as death itself. Dick didn’t even flinch— he’d learned to sense your presence weeks ago, though he still couldn’t figure out how you moved so quietly in those boots.

“You’re late,” he said, not turning around.

“I’m exactly on time. You’re just early because you’re nervous.” You stepped beside him, close enough that he could smell gunpowder and vanilla perfume. “The target’s already handled.”

“Handled how?” Dick’s voice carried that careful neutrality he used when he was trying not to lecture you.

You tilted your head. “Does it matter? The trafficking ring is shut down, the girls are safe, and the world has three fewer monsters in it.”

Dick closed his eyes briefly. “We talked about this—”

“No, you talked. I listened.” Your gloved fingers traced along his jaw, gentle despite the calluses from trigger guards and knife hilts. “I know you want to save everyone, even the ones who don’t deserve it. It’s what makes you beautiful, Dick Grayson. But some people can only be stopped one way.”

He caught your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And what does that make you?”

Your smile was sharp as broken glass. “Practical.”

Dick tries so hard to be the moral compass in the relationship, constantly walking the line between accepting who you are and hoping he can influence you toward less lethal methods. (He’s like “I can fix them” and just makes it even worse). It’s not as if he doesn’t want to see this side of you. He does. He just wants to help you navigate the pain jt took to get here.

He’s genuinely fascinated by your skills and will ask you to teach him your stealth techniques, though he draws the line at the more assassination-focused training.

Gets genuinely distressed when you disappear for days on missions, not because he doesn’t trust your abilities, but because he worries about what those missions might be doing to your body and mind.

Has definitely tried to introduce you to everyone else as a “reformed” anti-hero, which backfired spectacularly when you made a casual comment about eliminating witnesses. He learned not to sugar-coat you and your methods after that. Better to accept them head on.

Loves the way you move— there’s something almost hypnotic about your grace in combat that he finds beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

Will patch up your wounds without question, but always with that worried crease between his brows that you’ve learned means he’s planning another “conversation” about your methods and how you cannot keep putting yourself in so much danger.

Sometimes catches you staring at him like you’re memorizing his face, and it breaks his heart a little because he knows it means you’re always prepared to run.

Has started leaving his window unlocked specifically for you, even though you’ve never actually needed to use the window.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

﹒ ♪ ┊ INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

˖ `· . 𓏵 © 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent. ... ⏤ㅤ Ⳋ ⊹

543 notes · View notes

oldermenfucker · 2 months ago

Text

Beautiful Reflection | J. Abbot

summary: Jack shows you what happens when you are mean to the body he worships daily.

warnings: 18+ mdni! CHUBBY!reader (chubby or plus sized, no difference just a gorgeous girl who has stomach rolls and love handles and thick thighs teehe) Smut, porn without plot, Jack being a MUNCH, oral(f), p in v, biceps choking, mirror sex, just Jack being a gorgeous dom to his chubby girl, body image issues, body dysmorphia, creampie, no protection, fingering, insecurities, stretch marks, Jack 🤝🏻 nasty backshots, mentions of Jack’s amputation, NO BETA!! English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 2.1k+

an: FIRST JACK FIC YES LETS GO AAAAAAAAA!!!! I’m also deeply open to discuss ideas and write drabbles!! this one was pretty self indulged because I just needed to write sth about my fave being like this 😭😭

comments and reblogs are so appreciated!!

It is strange to go from covering yourself with Jack’s very, very baggy hoodies and avoiding the mirrors around the house to clutching Jack’s head as he feasts on you with abandon, fully naked and withering under his touch.

You have been pushing Jack away for the past few months, and he, ever the gentleman, respected your wishes, but when he found you today on the verge of tears as you poked around your body, looking at the new red stretch marks forming on your love handles, he had enough.

That is what got you into this position; legs spread, Jack’s thin lips sucking harshly on your clit while he kneads the fat of your thighs, growling like a dog in heat when you squeeze your legs, trying to close them around his head.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” his words come out in a groan, flattening his tongue on your folds as he laps up your essence like he has been left thirsty for days, “Tastes like nectar, baby.”

“Jack—“ you gasp, bucking your hips desperately into his face, threading your fingers through the salt and pepper curls on his head as he detaches himself from you, grinning devilishly when you whine at the loss of contact.

“What happened, baby?” He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you playfully, tapping your thighs with his palms, “You want me to stop?”

“No! No!” You rush the words out, trying to drag him down to your heat again, but he does not budge, craning his neck back to catch your wrist with his lips, kissing his way up to your fingers, taking them into his mouth while locking his hazel eyes with your glassy ones, twirling his tongue around the digits.

“Jack, please!”

“Please, what, baby?” He lets go of your fingers with a lewd ‘pop’ and you watch his grin widen when you throw your head back in frustration, “Did you learn your lesson or should I continue?”

“Ngh, please, just let me come!” You cry out, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets when he blows gently on your throbbing clit, the cold air making you tremble slightly.

Jack Abbot is a menace in bed; he gives and gives until he is sure he has nothing to offer, and for you to feel fulfilled for days, he gets an undeniable satisfaction of being the only one who can do that to you.

But now, he is on a mission. He can’t take you being mean to yourself, not today, not ever. He has done everything during your relationship to make you feel safe, loved, and appreciated, and he has done an excellent job, but even he can’t stop the destructive thoughts from tumbling their way into your head sometimes.

Time to put a stop to that.

“I asked you a question,” he slaps the back of your thoughts gently, just rough enough to make a delicious sting across your skin, “And I need an answer, cause, baby, ain’t no way someone’s gonna be mean to the body I fucking adore and I let it slide.”

“Please— fuck, okay! Okay!” You groan, chest heaving as you try to sit up on your elbows, looking into Jack’s eyes with a silent plea, “I learned my lesson. Please, I need to come—“

“Did you now?” He chuckles darkly, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh deep enough to earn a delicious moan from you, pulling back to see his bite mark forming on your flesh, “I don’t think you did, though, baby.”

“I swear!” You reply quickly, eyes wide and needy, and the sight of Jack’s unraveled curly hair and handsome face between your legs is making your heart beat so much faster, “I’ll never do that again—“

“Let’s see how much of a good girl you can be for me,” he whispers against your soaked pussy lips, his warm breath fanning over your sex, “Because I’d be so so sad if I don’t get to come inside my pretty girl tonight. Now, are you my pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” you nod, one hand reaching for his face, biting your lip as you stroke the stubble on his cheek, “I’m your pretty girl.”

“I don’t think you believe in it as much as I do,” he kisses his teeth, kissing your navel before diving back inside, licking a stripe from your entrance up to your clit, making your hands clench into his hair, “But don’t worry, baby, it’s my job to show you how fucking perfect you actually are.”

He presses his face into your cunt, moving his tongue in motions that have you falling back on the mattress, one hand in his hair and the other trying to ground you by digging into the bedsheets.

You throw your head back when he pushes a finger inside you, and your eyes widen when you notice the full-length mirror standing right next to the wall.

The image is lewd, pornographic even; you can see the arch of your back with how high you are thrusting your hips into Jack’s face, and Jack… fuck, only his gray hair is visible but knowing who is between your thighs, fucking you with a finger and a mouth that can do magics is enough to make your head spin.

“Fuck, Jack! I need to come, please,” you whine in pleasure when he adds a second finger inside you, curling them in and fucking you faster with them, hitting that sweet spot over and over.

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly on the bundle of nerves. You can feel his smirk as your legs begin to shake around his head, and he takes pride in giving you what you truly deserve.

Your orgasm washes over you, euphoria crashing against your veins as you quiver and drop back on the bed, arms falling limply next to your body as he keeps going and going to the point you have to literally pull him off by the roots of his hair.

“I wish I could feast on you every day,” he whispers as he trails his kisses up your stomach, his rough fingers gliding over your skin gently, sucking love marks on every inch he can reach.

“You already do that, love,” you sigh, biting your lip as you try to catch your breath, enjoying the contrast of the t-shirt he is still wearing against your exposed chest, but the urge to feel his skin overcomes you suddenly, “Take it off, please?”

“Whatever my pretty baby says,” he kisses the line of your breast one last time before he sits on his knees between your spread legs, grabbing the back of his t-shirt before pulling it off in one move, sighing as the air in the room his his heated body.

He nearly laughs out loud when he sees how you desperately reach for his chest. So he leans down completely, kissing your forehead while you caress the soft gray chest hairs, slowly moving down the hem of his boxers, biting your lips when you notice how hard he is for you.

He looks down, tracing your stretch marks with the tip of his fingers, smiling when he notices your little gasp, leaning down to kiss on the marks, leaving his own red marks next to them as if he is drawing on the canvas of your body.

“Jack…”

“Shh, let me appreciate you,” he fixes you with a quick glare, kissing the new red lines, following the path from your upper thigh to your hips, “Fucking hell, baby, I would tie you up next time if you hide this from me.”

“If a threat, then why does it sound like a promise?” You bite your lip, looking up at him, matching his grin shyly, but your smile soon turns into a shocked gasp when Jack closes your legs and grabs your sides, flipping you over on your stomach.

“Watch it,” he grabs your hips and pulls them up, groaning when his eyes fall on the globes of your ass, kneading them roughly before he leans down to kiss the curve of your spine, “Maybe I should fuck some sense into you, yeah? Make sure you know how gorgeous you are, hmm?”

“Please,” you wiggle against him, resting your forehead on the cold sheets under you, feeling how he presses his covered cock against your slit, “Need it, Jack. Need to feel pretty…”

“I got you, baby,” he says and takes his boxers off, dropping them on the floor before he grabs himself by the base, stroking his cock before he lines himself up with your dripping entrance, “Gonna give you the best dick of your life, my prettiest girl.”

“Yes, ah…” You moan when he pushes inside slowly, not stopping until he is fully sheathed inside you. You both take a deep breath, trying not to lose yourself in pleasure before you can even start.

“Look at yourself in the mirror,” Jack groans, pulling his hips back before he thrusts forward, his thighs lower abdomen slapping against your asscheeks, “Look at my pretty girl, look how pretty she takes my cock.”

You look up, finding yourself and Jack in the most obscene position; your lips are swollen, eyes hazy with pure pleasure, and Jack looking like a god with his broad chest and strong arms, fucking you like his only purpose in life is making you peak.

His grip tightens on your love handles, quickening his pace as he fucks you with a newfound passion, driving his cock further into your cunt, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, your upperbody lying flat on the bed as Jack fucks you.

“I said, look at yourself.” You don’t listen, you can’t, because honestly, how could you? How could you concentrate on anything but the way his fat cock is driving inside your cunt.

He snaps his hips harder into yours, the sensation of your tight warm walls consuming him, making him throw his head back and groan, but when you don’t answer, he pushes your ass down with his hands, leaning down until his entire chest is pressed to your back.

“I said look at yourself,” he groans into your ear, wrapping his arm around your neck gently, your chin resting over his biceps as he presses in slowly, testing the waters but when he sees how your lips fall apart and you moan his name, he flexes his arm further, “Be good and look how pretty you look when you get fucked.”

His words have you clenching around him, making him groan loudly into your ear, his forehead resting on the side of your head, moving his hips faster and rougher back and forth, grinding himself into you as if he wishes to carve the shape of his cock inside you.

You open your eyes as best as you can, nearly drooling at the sight of his bulging biceps against your neck, restricting your airway enough to make your mind go blank with pleasure.

The tight knot in your lower stomach finally breaks and you gush around Jack’s thick cock, coming with a scream of his name, biting down his muscles to muffle the loud cries of his name.

“Fuck, fuck, baby—“ he groans, his breath catching in his throat as he groans into your ear, thrusting his cock into your cunt before his movement halts and you feel his warm cum filling you. His dick twitches inside you, shooting ropes of his seed into you, giving you everything he has to offer.

He lies on top of you for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath while he distracts himself by kissing your shoulder, moving to your face, gently pushing the hair off your face to peck the corner of your mouth.

“Look,” he gently moves his arm so he can grab your jaw in his palm softly, pressing his cheek against yours as the two of you look at your reflection, “Look how pretty you are.”

“Jack,” your lips wobble as he looks at you through the mirror, his hazel eyes holding nothing but undying love and devotion, “I love you.”

“I love you so much,” he smiles, rubbing the roughness of his stubble on your cheek, making you giggle, “Never shy away from me. It doesn’t matter how many times you slip away, I will grab you and pull you back because you are… fucking perfect. The most beautiful, the most perfect face with the… gosh, the prettiest body. I’ve never seen anyone as blindingly beautiful as you.”

He kisses the single tear that falls from your lashes, letting his lips linger on your cheek before he takes most of his weight off you, never breaking eye contact in the mirror.

“You do the same when I nearly trip over the edge of the hospital’s roof. You give me hope, a reason to keep going. You chose me, an amputee, a vet, a wounded soldier, you see the beauty in me at the times I can’t, and I want you to see the same in yourself.”

#jack abbot #the pitt #jack abbot smut #jack abbot x reader #jack abott #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbott smut #The pitt smut #the pitt x reader

507 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 11 months ago

Note

(sighs dreamily) i loooove the way you write fucked up and gross simon. the size kink and somno drabbles have been living rent free in my mind for almost two weeks now. the recent stalker piece was also so deliciously terrifying, i actually had a dream/nightmare today that was a mixture of stalker!ghost and not-dog!soap 😭

are you planning on writing any more for either of those?

ahhh thank you!!!! this had me wondering how i could maybe blend the two and this happened.

stalking. HEAVILY implied noncon somno. size difference.

Simon decides your dog, your baby, needs a man in the house. and since you like to call yourself his 'mama,’ then it’s only right that he becomes the daddy both of you need.

Your dog does not like strangers.

He's a rescue and the sort of life he lived until now, until you, is mostly a mystery. You found him on a rainy day, panting under your awning - a gnarled mess of matted fur glued to bone. Too skinny to survive another winter. You took him in right away and gained his trust. His love. But whatever he had left to spare (lots, it seems) is strictly reserved for you. Everyone else is a threat, a worry. Even the vets he's known since you found him all those years ago still get the same wary glances, the same growls then they lean in too close to whisper something in your ear.

He's just—special. The sweetest thing ever when it's just you. Your baby. People joke—slightly nervous—that he treats you like his mother. Following you closely with his big, glossy eyes tilted up to stare at you. Loving. Cuddly. Rests his big head on your lap at night with a great, big sigh. Tired from a long, hard day of protecting his house from squirrels and the stray delivery driver.

But when it comes to others—anyone, really—he’s aggressive. Territorial. All the vets and trainers say that it's his breed. That he just needs to be trained. Exposure therapy. Behavioural. And it works for all of two weeks before he's back to his stubborn self. Snapping at anyone who gets too close to you.

You post warnings on your fence. Your front door. Take precautions when you walk him. Warn anyone who gets close that he doesn't like anyone. Full stop. No exceptions. And it works. Helps ease the stress. He still goes to therapy. To training lessons. But he's smart enough to trick them into thinking he's learning.

And it's fine. People can't get too close to you. To his house. His territory.

Or so you thought.

But he's been acting strange lately.

You caught him barking at something through the fence a few months ago; spittle flying from his muzzle as his lips peeled back, snarling and vicious. If the fence wasn't reinforced, you think he would have broken it down to get at whatever was behind it.

It continued like this for a few days. Each time you went to check and see what was there, all you find is littered cigarettes. The teenage son of your neighbour, you think. He likes to hide in the dense woods so his parents can't find him. You'll talk to him about it later. Ask if he can do it a little further away from the fence so he isn’t disturbing Baby.

As the days grow, his growls and snarls diminish before stopping outright. In the interim, your unease grows.

It's small—at first.

He wants to be outside more. Always whining at the back door, scratching at it with his paw. When you let him out, he runs right to that spot by the fence. Sits down, and just stares. When you go out to look, there's nothing there. Just a dark, sprawling coppice. Cigarettes on the ground. But something catches his attention. Keeps it. Holds it.

He leads you to that spot sometimes, too. Nudges you with his big, furry head to your thighs. Shepherding you to the fence, and then sits back, clearly preening. Proud.

"You're mama’s silly boy, aren't you?" you coo, scratching his ears. It must be the neighbour. Maybe a stray deer wandered by. You catch a flash through the tree line. Twin puddles of black peering through the tangled weeds. Your dog perks up, looking towards it. A deer, you think. A stray buck. You huff, patting his head. "Made a new friend, huh?"

But you can't shake the feeling that something else is out there. That something is staring at you.

Nothing, you tell yourself, fighting off a shiver. It's fine. Fine. He sneaks off at night sometimes. You hear him playing in the hallway. Wandering around the house. The tack-tack-tack of his nails against the hardwood as he walks back to your bedroom lulls you back to sleep. You feel the bed dip. Something warm against your back. You sigh, melting into the sheets—

There's nothing to worry about.

He'll protect you.

But the next morning, you find him locked outside. The patio door shut. The deck is dried from the sun, but his fur is wet. It rained last night. You drifted in and out to the patter of it on your window. The soothing weight of his body curling around you—

He must have gotten out in the morning. Rolled around in the grass. But when you put him in the tub later to scrub the rainwater off of his cost, his belly is dry.

It's nothing. He was in bed with you last night. It's fine. Fine. Everything is easy to explain away as coincidence. Nothing usual. The feeling of being watched. The missing food from your fridge. The creaks of the old house at night. Things shifting around—keys missing only to turn up somewhere else. Rodents chewing through your landline.

The panties you shed, tossing into a corner before getting into the shower going missing—

They’re just—lost in the wash. You must have thrown the leftover food away when you cleaned earlier and forgot. The lingering scent of cigarettes. Smoke in your bed. The cloying scent of loam, humus. Fresh dirt. The stains on your bed. The strange smear in the gusset of your panties when you peel them apart.

Something thick, firm between your thighs—

Fine. You tell yourself. Everything is fine. At best, it's a gas leak. At worst—well.

Baby will protect you.

Always.

But the next day, he brings his favourite toy to the back door, asking to be let out, and this isn't—

It's not normal.

He's possessive over his toys. Keeps them on his daybed and refuses to let anyone touch them. Only you. He doesn't bring the. Outside, either.

But when you peer outside a few minutes later, the toy is lying by that spot near the fence. He's sitting down, tail wagging. Happy. Excited. It continues like this for the next few days. He brings his toys to the fence, coming in later, licking his lips. When you brush his teeth at night, you smell something gamey on his breath. Meaty.

Getting out of bed a few hours later and playing in the hallway. Going to sleep with you at night, but somehow getting out in the early hours of the morning, waiting for you on the patio when you remember the huff of his breath over your neck less than an hour ago—

No. You're just—

Getting the time wrong. It's fine. He'll protect you. He doesn't like anyone but you.

You hear footsteps in the hallway at night next to the click-clack of his nails. When you jump out of bed to check, it's just him. Sitting by the back door, head craned over his shoulder when he heard you coming. His favourite toy is sitting on the ground in front of him. You fight a shiver. The feeling of eyes burning into you churns your stomach.

"I'm going crazy, sweetheart," you coo, but feel the threads of your sanity begin to snap one by one. "But you'll keep me safe, right?"

His tail wags. You pretend not to notice the gap in the patio door. Opened just a crack. You shut it, forcibly telling yourself to remember to close it next time and fight the memories of locking it before settling on the couch to watch old re-runs. You drag him back to bed, burrowing your head into his fur, listening to the thud-thud-thud of his heart in your ear.

When you dream that night, it's of a big, scarred hand making its way between your thighs. A rasping, masculine voice in your ear commanding you to be good—

You wake up with your thighs sticky, wet. Your cunt pulsing. There's an ache there; a sting. It twinges when you move, tapering into a sore throb as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, woken up by the strange dream—fingers between your thighs, a head resting on your belly, calling you a good girl—and a noise.

A low murmur comes from the living room. You wince with the first several steps, forcing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs. The wetness that drips down your leg, some of it already dried, sticking to your skin. It’s fine. You just had a—

A wet dream.

—everything is fine. Fine. Your heart lurches. Lodges in your throat. Each beat feels like a fist against your tissue trying to break down the prison of your flesh to flee.

You slowly inch toward the hallway, the sound, making excuses for the fear that curdles in your belly. The itch in the back of your head that calls you stupid. Demands you go back to bed. To sleep. You’ll wake up in the morning to Baby slobbering over your chest, drooling as the time ticks away in a slow crawl towards his usual breakfast.

It’s tempting. The sleep congealing in the corners of your eyes, weighing heavy—molasses-thick—over your sense of awareness: cobwebbed in that strange, uncanny realm of sleep and wakefulness; hypnagogia turning shadows on the walls into human shapes. The whisper of wind into the brassy drawl of a voice.

Through it all, the prickle rears. Says something isn't right. Hasn't been right for a while now. It's fine. Everything is—

It doesn't make sense at first. Your brain tries to wrap around the images your eyes feed it. Untangling the dizzying sense of confusion that runs along your hindbrain like a jagged knife; grazing tissue, scraping over nerves. The picture comes together quickly. There's no misinterpreting the shapes.

A man is lounging on your couch. Legs kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed. The remote is held in one hand as he lazily flicks through the channels on your television screen. The picture of ease. So relaxed, so comfortable in your space, that you begin to feel a little bit like an intruder. A voyeur peering between the curtains.

This feeling is reinforced when you peel your eyes away from the horrifying mask on the man's face—a black balaclava—and find your dog lounging beside him. Resting with his head over this stranger's thick thighs. His head perks up when you approach, tail wagging, but he doesn't get up from his spot. Content to bask in the half-hearted attention the man doles, a hand buried in his fur. Dragging over his ears. Down his back. Monotonous flicks of his thick wrist, nearly the same width as the barrel of a baseball bat.

And that just trembles down your spine in the worst way.

He's the same height as you are sitting down. Takes up two cushions on the couch with his absurd bulk. Massive, you think. And then it all rushes through you. The knife slips into your cognisance.

There's a man in your house. Petting your dog,

your dog who tries to bite the same vet he's had for years. Who trusts, who likes, no one but you—

You make a noise. Something strangled in the back of your throat. Muffed, unable to escape through the clot of your heart getting there first. It tangles around your pericardium and is too late to take back. To swallow down.

It doesn’t matter, though.

The man has been watching from the beginning.

Dark eyes (a dark, black flash between the leaves—) drill into you. Staring. That familiar, unease feeling is back again, creeping up your spine. It's been him the whole time, you know. The thing behind the fence. Must be. The same brand of cigarettes you found on the opposite side is sitting on your coffee table, right beside his feet.

His chest expands with his inhale. You smell stale smoke. Something wild. The scent of the forest after a summer's rain shower.

"Finally up, are you? Thought you were gonna sleep all day." His voice is deep. Brassy. The growling roll of an approaching thundercloud. You shiver. Jerk back, but—

Baby growls.

He's never done that before. Never barked. Never snarled. Never nipped.

But right now, his teeth peel back, muzzle wrinkling as he lifts his lips. And you know it's playful. Seen this look on his face when you throw the ball across the yard. It's just him being his silly self. He won't attack you. Won't maul you.

The man lifts his hand and your dog limbers up. Shakes. He jumps off the couch and trots toward you. Nothing is threatening in the way he moves. It's the same lumbering gait, the same happy wag to his tail, but he moves himself around you. Stands between you and the only escape.

"Baby—?"

"Taught 'im a few tricks," the man drawls conversationally—like he wasn't a stranger in your house. "Got a good boy on your 'ands. Jus' needed a bit o'trainin'—”

He snaps his fingers and Baby moves. Bumps his head into the back of your thighs. Pushing you. Nudging you toward the man. It’s so horrifying familiar that you find yourself moving without a thought. Following along.

"He jus' needed a man in the house, didn't he? A father figure—"

You're going to be sick. Think you would have been already if your heart wasn't lodged tight in your throat, keeping everything down.

The man lifts his hand. Curls his fingers.

"C'mon, mommy," he taunts, voice a derisive roll. "Come sit on Daddy's lap. It's movie night tonight."

Baby pushes you forward happily, tail wagging, wagging—

Happier than you’ve ever seen him as this stranger reaches out, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto his lap. You think about fighting immediately, struggling to get out of his hold, but he moves back and the unmistakable, blunt press of a gun sends shivers rolling down your spine. You still instantly. Back drawing tight. Fear is a wet, hot pulse behind your ribs.

“Don’t fight it, birdie—” You feel the warm, damp press of his mask against the shell of your ear. The ridges of his lips move beneath the fabric as he speaks.

You hear him inhale, drawing in the scent of your shampoo—your fear: an oily thick miasma pooling behind your ears, against your nape—and feel tears pool against your lashline when a surge of familiarity wells up at the solid, firm weight of his chest against your spine. His thigh slips between yours, spreading them wide over the arch of his muscle. Limp, dizzy, you fall back into his chest when he pulls you in, slotting a burly arm over your ribcage. Locked in tight. A shackle.

“Ain’t go’ nothin’ t’worry about,” he continues, hips shifting. Moving. And—

It’s a not gun. You know it isn’t. When you whimper, it throbs—

There’s the echo of a groan in his voice when he huffs, lips pursing into a kiss. “Nothin’ at all. C’mon, Baby—”

And Baby obeys eagerly, jumping up on the couch beside him. His snout is warm, wet, when he presses it to your arm, sniffing. Please, you think, staring into his eyes as tears swell, pooling down your cheeks. Please—

But the man lifts his arm, and Baby circles the cushion before falling against his side with a deep, content sigh. Hope is snuffed out of your chest in an instant. The man’s hand falls to his head, rubbing his skull affectionately.

“Good boy.” Baby perks. His happiness is a palpable thing that swells around you as he melts, eyes slipping closed. “Gonna be a good boy while mum an’ dad spend some time together, ain't you, boy?”

His arm tightens around your waist. Chin notches over your shoulder as he shifts back, legs kicking out to spread your thighs further apart.

"Now," he drawls, hand sliding down to the mess between your thighs. You shiver against him, toying with the idea of running, fleeing—but he must know. Senses it, maybe. He lifts his hips, pressing the gun into your spine. A threat. A warning. But with the way he swallows you up—broad chest closing in on you, trapping you on all sides—you know it's futile.

He has you.

Your submission makes him purr.

"Baby's sleepin', so now let daddy take care'o mommy—"

#he’s not a stepdad #he’s a dad who stepped up 🥹#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley/reader #ghostdrabbles

2K notes · View notes

viperify · 2 months ago

Text

drabbles | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟢ late nights at the library.

All you crave is a break and sleep—but Tom Riddle being your tutor and boyfriend makes your life just a little bit more complicated.

“This is the third time you have gotten this wrong.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair you were sitting in. “Tom, I know. I just— it’s late, okay? We have been here for what? Five hours?”

He raised a brow, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “That’s right. So, any reason why you can’t remember? Do I need to explain it again?”

You wished you had known what you were signing up for when you started dating Tom. Endless hours of studying together. Him acting like your tutor when he was supposed to be your boyfriend. He had this never-ending ambition and motivation that you just couldn’t match in the slightest.

Yes, you were one of the better students as well, but nobody and nothing could match Tom Riddle—top student in every single class. Sometimes you wondered how he managed it all. How he could be so perfect. Studying, revising, prefect duties. It was almost like you needed an appointment to meet him, even as his girlfriend.

He seemed like a student as any other—though so special in his own way. The hunger for knowledge and power. The desire to become prefect, head boy, a professor.

The softer side to him that only you would ever get to see—except when you were studying together, that is.

“Please, can we just leave? I am so tired.”

You didn’t leave. Not until you finally got it right. Not until you were completely drained, eyelids fluttering closed every other minute.

“Come on, I will bring you to your dorm.” He said softly after returning the books to where you had taken them from. Taking your hand in his and helping you up, he led you out of the dark and empty library. There were no words needed when you arrived at your dorm. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tom exhaled, deeply. “Fine. But just this once.”

He always said that.

A minute later, you entered his dorm instead, and it was as if his guard had dropped the second the door closed behind you both. He took off his and your robes, hanging them on the coat stand behind you.

And then, without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his arms. He held you close, your head buried against his chest as his hand caressed your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Finally, your worries started to fade, exhaustion taking over. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he took in your expression, swiftly helping you out of your uniform and into your pyjamas. How he’d gotten them—you didn’t know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All you wanted was him—his kisses, his warmth, his support.

Of course, he knew.

So that’s what he gave you—pulling you close as soon as the both of you lay down, pressing a gentle kiss to your soft lips before letting you cuddle into his side.

“I am proud of you, darling.” Tom whispered right before you drifted off to sleep, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I always am.”

You smiled softly in response, drawing soft patterns on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | drabbles.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Just a little fluffy drabble bc I crave this man’s love and support during exam season. Ugh. <- This is also why I will be posting a little less/shorter works due to me basically having no time to write for the coming two weeks! I love you guys and hope to be back to normal asap! <33

#ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ✎ᝰ.ᐟ #finals are killing me #send help #accounting…#tom riddle #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfic #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle drabble #harry potter fandom #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fanfic #dividers by strangergraphics

504 notes · View notes

livingdxadwriter · 3 months ago

Text

Stuck Here Like Me

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: in the wake of the chaos, you’re there to pick up his broken pieces. Takes place during 1x13 so spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet

Warnings: depiction of explicit themes, death, grief, panic attacks, blood, hospital stuff, ptsd, age gap (reader is 35, Robby is 50) (no smut but yall better love it)

WC: 4.3k Drabble who?

A/N: omg no smutties??? Who possessed me??? Okay well there is smutties, this just isn’t it. I mentioned before that I started writing smutties based on ep 12 but when 13 came out I just had to write a comfort fic. God this man needs to be held and loved so I couldn’t help myself. The smutties based on ep 12 is still on the works. So think of it as an alternative ending to this one. I started writing this last night after I finished ep13 and i cant believe I finished it so fast. Hope you enjoy being traumatized give Noah his Emmy btw

Staying away from the chaos of the ER was the plan for today. As far away as you possibly could. You did this on purpose. Neither of you had worked on this day in years. You didn’t mind that Robby had made other plans. You were even happy that he was keeping his mind occupied with Jake. You would happily stay home and catch up on some well deserved sleep. Ever since you convinced Gloria to give you that pediatric emergency medicine fellowship, you had been doing overtime almost every single shift. You left at the same time as Robby every night, and that was saying a lot.

So when you felt movement beside you, your husband shifting as quietly as possible, you were very suspicious. You stirred and grumbled almost immediately. Much to his attempt of getting out of bed without waking you.

“Michael.” You muttered into your pillow, blindly reaching for your phone beside you. He gritted his teeth, turning his head to find you squinting at your phone. “Why are you getting up at six on your day off?”

“Ah, busted.” You felt his weight sink into the bed as he leaned over you to leave a kiss to your hair. “They’re down an attending this morning. And you know we’re short staffed so.”

You scrunched up your face, huffing softly as you shifted on your back. You gave him a look of apprehension and he leaned down to kiss the expression lines on your forehead.

“Today? Really?” The sleep lingered on your voice as you rubbed your eyes softly. He clicked his tongue but said nothing. You weren’t shy about it. You were an R2 when the pandemic broke out. How you managed to start, and maintain a functioning relationship was still beyond you. Though you guessed you understood each other’s he trauma. And your marriage has been without issues so far, so you guessed it worked out. Still, you weren’t beneath bringing it up, even if he didn’t quite enjoy it. “Michael I really don’t think—“

“It’s fine. I’m fine, really.” He was firm with his words, loving, but firm, like he didn’t want to press the matter further. A sigh of resignation left your chest and you shrugged, shaking your head at him.

“Mkay. Want me to come in with you?” You sighed, stretching out your arms with exhaustion. Robby narrowed his eyes at you and shook his head.

“Nope. You’ve been working what? Thirteen? Fourteen hours straight? Absolutely not. Sleep while you can. You’re going to burn yourself out.” You hated when he lectured you, the age gap between you sometimes becoming painfully obvious. You groaned with annoyance and squeezed your eyes shut. You hated when he was right.

“Fine, whatever.” You pretended to pout, which he found quite amusing. With a soft chuckle he leaned down to press a kiss to your pouty lips. You couldn’t help but giggle. “I swear Gloria is still punishing me for hexing you with my charms. She couldn’t get rid of me so she’s making me suffer.”

“Aren’t you doing overtime willingly?” He tisked at you as he peeled himself from you to finish putting on his scrubs. He knew that if he didn’t leave your side soon he would forget he has actual responsibilities to attend to.

You scoffed at him, shifting to your side again, “I’m being coerced. She insists that my fellowship is an unnecessary expense and that if it hadn’t been for your favoritism I would’ve had to transfer hospitals.”

“It wasn’t favoritism. I was completely objective and unbiased. You really are one of my best doctors.” He reminded you and you laughed into your pillow.

“She doesn’t seem to agree. She makes sure to remind me every time she sees me.” You rolled your eyes, disdain lacing your tongue. Robby found it almost amusing how you didn’t even try to hide your opinions. He always had to hold back a laugh whenever you gave Gloria side eyes when she came strolling down to the ER to get on his case about one thing or another.

“Yeah, well, she’s a pain in my ass too. Don’t take it too personally.”

“I’ll make you coffee and something to eat, hm?” You suggested, figuring you would spend as much time with him as you could before you didn’t see him for the next twelve-plus hours. He shot you an apprehensive glance, eyes narrowed but you were already throwing the blankets off you. “I’m already up. I’ll take a nap when you leave.”

Robby chewed on the inside of his cheek, clicking his tongue as his eyes followed you out of bed. His eyes never left you, more than happy to be reminded that you were parading around in nothing but an old tee and panties. He followed you out of the bedroom with eagerness, more than happy to follow you around until he left.

“Shit, my sweet and amazing wife is making me coffee this morning? And she’s making sure I eat? Aren’t I lucky.” He chuckled, following you to the kitchen. Your giggles filled the air and he was so in love with the sound it made his head spin.

“Don’t forget hot and young too.” You looked over your shoulder and shot him a wink, snorting at the groan he let out at your teasing words. If you had to be reminded that he was older, he had to be reminded that you were younger, too.

“God, I hope you don’t say that shit to other people. Makes me sound like such a creep.” He sighed out, his freckled cheeks dusting red with embarrassment. You loved to tease him about it. Even though you were already thirty when you started dating. You found it amusing how worked up he got about the logistics. You knew it fucked him up for months when you first slept together.

“If it makes you feel better, I tell people I wanted to fuck my attending.” You managed to hold in your laughter until after your words sunk in, you had your back to him as you made him his coffee, but when you heard him mutter ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ behind you, you bursted into giggles. “You love me. Oh! Can you get me the strawberries and blueberries from the fridge? And the Greek yogurt.”

“Yes I do, unfortunately.” He sighed out a long exaggerated breath as he searched around the fridge. You shoot him a glare, which he took with a chuckle.

“Okay, well, you can starve then. I’m not making you shit.” You clicked your tongue, huffing as you crossed your arms over your chest. Robby pouted, trying to stifle a laugh at the matching pout on your lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He said in between laughs as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him and he left kisses on your cheek, on your nose, until you broke a smile and giggles left your lips. “You have such a shitty poker face.”

“I do. I can’t resist your old man charms.” You teased, throwing your arms around his neck. He rolled his eyes at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, successfully shutting you right up. You didn’t protest, you were in fact, very pleased with this exchange. God, you wished he would stay home with you. You didn’t want him to go. You were tempted to jump him right then and there. If you pushed him enough he really couldn’t say no to you even if he tried. But you also knew better. So against your better judgement you relented.

“I really have to go hun.” His words left his chest with an edge, his fingers slightly digging into your hips. You slightly threw your head back, grabbing his face as you whined. “Cmon, don’t do that.”

“I really can’t convince you to stay, hm? You’ll have me all to yourself today.” Your words left your lips softly, quietly. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, his jaw ticking with each string you pulled.

“I’m gonna think with my head and regrettably say no.” An uneven breath left him, much to his dismay. Your offer was so fucking tempting. But he knew better, he definitely wouldn’t hear the end of it if he ended up not showing up.

“Ugh, I like your other head better.” You gave him one last jab to his sanity before you pulled yourself away to resume your previous task. You heard him groan loudly as he reached for his freshly brewed coffee.

“God, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Though there was a smile on his face, those soft brown eyes filled with warmth, you knew him well, too well, and you knew there was more hiding behind those eyes, behind the same facade he put up every year. And that sat with you, you carried that worry like a burden, because you didn’t know what truly was going on in his head, what he was thinking. And it made you wish you could just lock him up until the day had passed. But alas, he wasn’t the type of man to hide. Exchanging I love you’s as he walked out the door left you with unease, with anxiety. And you couldn’t shake that feeling.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey love. Lemme guess, you’re staying late?” Your teasing words were laced with humor when you picked up the phone. You had managed to get through your day, though you definitely missed your husband. It was around six when he called.

“Yeah, something like that. Uh, fuck. I’m sorry to ask, but could you come in?” He rushed out his words, a sense of urgency edging through his tone even over the phone. The smile on your face quickly fell and you stilled, stammering over your words. “There’s an active shooter at PittFest and I’m down two residents. Please, you know I wouldn’t call if I didn’t have to.”

You were running to your bedroom for the first pair of scrubs you could grab before he was done talking. Your mind was racing with a million questions, but you didn’t have time to ask any of them.

“Fuck me. You really couldn’t stay home today, huh?” You blew out a breath of exasperation as you threw on pieces of clothing like a maniac. You were thankful you had decided to take a shower before getting started on dinner. Guess you would have to settle for takeout tonight, if you even left the hospital at all.

“I wish I had. Look on the bright side though, I missed you so much I had to find a way to get you here with me.” Though his words were playful, nothing about his tone was humorous in the slightest, there was so much edge to his voice it made your heart sink. As if he needed another thing to make today miserable. Today, out of all days, too.

“You could’ve just asked.”

You were on autopilot, walking to the hospital wasn’t even a conscious thought. You and Robby walked there every shift, it was just automatic. Though you were sure your feet walked just a bit faster than usual because you were walking through those doors and rushing downstairs before your brain could even process where your feet had taken you. You were met with the sight of just about the entire ER staff, day and night shift. Your heart pounded against your chest louder and louder by the second. You spotted Robby talking to Dr. Abbott. His eyes trailed in your direction and he could almost feel a sense of relief wash over him when he spotted you. It was automatic, his feet were taking you to him. He met you in the middle and he pulled you into his chest without hesitation.

“Michael.” You offered quietly, pressing the side of your face against his chest, happily accepting his embrace. You felt him press the cheek against the side of his head, a long sigh of relief leaving him.

“I really needed you. Thank you.” He muttered softly, only for your ears to hear. You nodded.

“You should’ve called me sooner. You’re down two residents?” You asked quietly, feeling the way he tensed under your touch at the question. He half nodded, another exasperated sigh leaving his heavy chest.

“Yeah. Collins wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home, and I had to send Langdon home, too.” You could hear the slightest bit of edge in his voice at that last part. You frowned, pulling back to look at him with confusion.

“Why? What did he do?” You asked with a frown, having the feeling the reason had nothing to do with illness. His jaw tightened, his eyes drifting away from your gaze.

“You don’t want to know.” He shook his head dismissively, but his tone was anything but reassuring. You narrowed your eyes at him, not convinced by his answer. But he didn’t give you more than that. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

You didn’t want to push it, not right now at least, he had enough on his mind. You simply nodded at him, offering him a half smile as he walked you back to where everyone had gathered. You were met with some confused faces, but also welcoming glances of the familiar ones. You figured they were medical students or interns, since you didn’t recognize the new faces. What a day to be your first day, you thought.

“Okay, this is all hands on deck. That’s why I called for some help. For those of you who don’t know, this is one of our best doctors,” Robby looked at you as he introduced you. You felt almost embarrassed, faint heat rushing to your cheeks but you said nothing. “She’s our emergency pedes fellow, so if you need an attending and you can’t find me or Abbott, find her.”

You felt a bit awkward as Robby continued, now explaining the bracelet system and the colors for each area. You could still feel some confused and puzzled eyes on you every once in a while, but you otherwise ignored it. You figured there would be time for proper introductions later.

Robby and Abbott were done saying their final pieces before everyone dispersed in their own directions. You offered Robby a smile as he left to check on triage. This feeling of unease at the imminent doom that awaited you was making you sick, but you knew this is what you had to do. You eventually found Dana, and you were very distraught by the very evident brushing on her face.

“You didn’t have that last night. What happened to you?” You asked her, your tone alarmed, but you managed to keep your voice down. She sighed, like it was a long story that she had no desire to get into at this time.

“An unhappy patient decided to express how displeased he was with our care.” She states, her tone tired. Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open.

“A patient punched you? Are you fucking kidding?” You scoffed in disbelief and she simply nodded, too tired and burned out to do much more. You shook your head. “Maybe Gloria should fire me. Maybe she can hire better security with my salary.”

“Doubt it. She would find a way to claim we still don’t have the budget for it.” She blew out a humorless laugh, also shaking her head.

You opened your mouth to reply but stopped when you heard a string of voices speaking all at once, you knew it was time for the madness. And you had no idea just how much.

~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t know where your head was anymore. You were jumping from patient to patient like it was a marathon. You had managed to tune out most of the noise, focus on where your hands were. You were helping Langdon when you spotted Robby wheeling in a girl and your heart nearly stopped when you saw Jake following him. Robby hadn’t heard from him or his girlfriend since the shooting started and he was frantic, looking for him every time a new patient was wheeled in. He didn’t show it, but you could tell.

“You good here?” You asked Langdon, his panicked expression matching your own when he spotted Jake. He nodded, ushering you to go. You nearly ran across the other side to find Robby doing chest compression on a girl, and Jake was standing there, refusing to leave her side.

“Jake, hey, are you okay?” You asked him, checking him for any severe wounds, but he didn’t seem to be hurt, despite being covered in blood. He didn’t acknowledge you at first, his eyes glued to the girl on the gurney, you assumed this was the girlfriend Robby had told you took his ticket.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay, just my leg I think. But Leah is really hurt. Is she going to be okay?” He still wasn’t looking at you, not moving either. You gently grabbed his arm as you made eye contact with Robby. You knew that look. You half nodded, trying to usher Jake back. You hadn’t known him super long, his mom and Robby had already been split for a while by the time you came into the picture. But he thought you were cool and you found his relationship with Robby endearing.

“Robby is helping her right now, but you can’t be in here. You need to get that leg checked. I promise I’ll come find you.” You slowly pulled him back as you called for a wheelchair, he wasn’t budging, understandably not wanting to leave his girlfriend. “Jake, please. Robby’s got her but you need to get checked out.”

You managed to join Robby, and it did not look good. You made eye contact with Dana, and you did not like the look she gave you. You took in a deep breath, clearing your throat as you tried to find your voice.

“Where do you want me?”

“Switch with me.” Robby panted, quickly switching places with you. You resumed chest compressions, despite knowing where this would end. You couldn’t stop the bleeding, and you couldn’t transfuse blood fast enough. But you would keep going until he told you to stop. “Stop compressions. Check for carotid.”

You swallowed, pressing your fingers to her neck. You held your breath, perhaps holding yours would allow you to feel even the faintest beat. There was nothing. You sniffled softly and shook your head.

“I can’t feel the carotid.”

“No femoral either.”

You stopped keeping track of how long you were at it. You were at three bags of blood when you stopped compressions, and again you couldn’t feel anything. Robby shook his head.

“Robby.” You protested, knowing this was it. There was nothing else you could possibly do. There just wasn’t enough time. He shook his head again, the denial evident on his face. You exchanged knowing looks with Dana as Abbott spoke, but he couldn’t get through Robby either.

“Push one more bag of O neg, resume compressions.” He insisted, his voice breaking the slightest bit. A shaky breath left your lips and you hesitated for just a second, but you complied nonetheless.

“Abbott is right. The bullet probably tore right through the aorta. I still can’t get a pulse and we can’t give her another bag.” Your own voice was breaking, sweat starting to fall down your forehead and soak your hair. He shook his head at you, checking his own pulse to make sure the machine worked. “Michael—“

“I know, I know. Fuck, just, let me try this. Please. Hold compressions.” His voice was shaky, on the verge of breaking as he avoided your gaze. You breathed out shakily as you stopped and waited. You could hear abnormal beats, coming and going. And then nothing. There was nothing. Robby kept trying, his jaw tight and he squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried to find a pulse. Anything. There was nothing. Your eyes found Dana’s and she shook her head at you. Your eyes filled with tears when Robby shook his head. “We’re done.”

Your breath got caught in your chest as you held it, your own eyes fluttering shut as the realization finally dawned on you. When you opened them again your eyes landed on Robby and your heart sank. You swallowed, inhaling sharply before you spoke.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You asked quietly and he quickly shook his head, sniffling softly.

“No. I’ll go. Just.. Can you take her?” He looked at Dana. She nodded. You opened your mouth to speak again but he gave you no time. He was rushing down the hall as you were left with your mouth open, speechless and distraught. Seeing him like this, it reminded you of what today was. And that feeling made you so uneasy it made you nauseous.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You got pulled from patient to patient until your head started to spin. You didn’t even have time to notice Robby was gone. And nobody could find him. Those words made your stomach drop. You rushed to where Jake was, you found him still on his gurney, crying. You figured he knew.

“Jake…” You said softly, and he didn’t even bother to look at you. “Jake, I'm so sorry. We tried. We really did. But I need you to tell me where Robby is.”

Jake stayed silent for a long while, sniffling quietly, still not looking at you, “I dunno. He took me to see Leah then he kicked me out. He started, like crying and didn’t come back out.”

Your eyes widened, your breath picking up and your chest started to pound. “I promise I will come check on you but please, try to call your mom. She must be really worried.” You offered him a half smile, your lip quivering the slightest bit before you rushed to the pedes room. God this fucking room was cursed.

Your heart was not ready for the sight you would find. You were frantic as you opened the door and you found your loving husband, the love of your life, in a corner with his hands behind his head, shaking. You choked on your own breath as you grabbed the curtain and covered the door before you dropped to your knees in front of your husband. Your own eyes filled with tears at the sight of him like this. It was like he didn’t even process that you were here, he was hyperventilating, choking back sobs into his arms.

“Hey, Michael. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” You held back your own tears as you reached to grab his face. He wouldn’t stop, he was sobbing and crying like you had never seen him do. You didn’t know what to do, you had never seen him break down like this. Your own tears had started to fall without even knowing. But you kept talking to him, you grabbed his face, “Michael, hey, you’re okay. I’m here with you. I’m here baby.”

“Did… Did I ever tell you you have the prettiest freckles? They go so well with your eyes. You have the kindest, softest eyes. I’ve been in love with them ever since I met you. I knew that you were it, I knew I wanted to be with you, all the time.” You didn’t know what you were saying, or when you started to cry, too, but you continued, “I’m right here with you, okay? At your lowest, remember, like in our vows? I got you, I promise.”

You didn’t know what clicked in his head, or what wall fell down in his fragmented mind, but he reached for you, a broken sob leaving him as he found refuge in the comfort of your arms. He sobbed into your shoulder and you held him, cradling his head as you shushed him softly, choking back your own tears.

“It’s okay to cry, you know? You can cry. It’s okay. Just breathe with me.” You spoke quietly into his ear, pressing a kiss to his hair. He held you tighter.

“I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save any of them.” He sniffled into your shoulder, his voice hoarse from emotion. It shattered your heart to hear him like this. You would give absolutely anything to make sure he never felt like this.

“I know.. I know. And I can’t make it hurt less, I wish I could. But it’s okay to grieve and feel like this. Sometimes we need to feel it.” You said softly, breathing softly, each breath you took was slow and steady until his own breath matched yours. You held him there, you let him cry until he couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how long he had been holding this in. Years of grief bottled up until he couldn’t take it anymore. “You have saved so many lives. So many people look up to you. I look up to you. And I know you have lost a lot, and that feeling will never go away. But the good you have done doesn’t go away either.”

You lost track of how long you stayed like this. But you didn’t care how long it took. You held him for as long as he needed. You said nothing more as he cried quietly into your shoulder, until he stopped and all that was there was his tight grip on you and his steady breaths in your ear. When he was ready you gently grabbed his face and offered him a sad smile. He closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch, a shaky breath leaving his lips as you gently wiped his cheeks. He opened his eyes to find yours. And as he looked at you, you felt so much sadness seeing the eyes you were so in love with so full of pain. You held his face, your cold rings against his hot skin grounded him. You leaned your forehead against his and stayed just like that. You said nothing. He said nothing. You had nothing to say. You needed this silence. Words weren’t necessary, only grief and sadness was present and that was okay. You would be here to pick up his broken pieces when he was ready.

#dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #Dr Robby x fem reader #Michael robinavitch x reader #Dr Robby #michael robinavitch #the Pitt

610 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 3 months ago

Text

So it's always been you

᠀𓏲Cherry Blossom, March Event᠀𓏲

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: model!Jung Wooyoung x stylist!reader

᠀𓏲 Warning: cursing, mentions of a sex toy ᠀𓏲 Word count: 6k ᠀𓏲 Rating: nc-17 ᠀𓏲 Genre: fluff, soulmates: whenever you lose an item, it ends up in your soulmates' possession somehow, fashion week au, model x stylist romance, best friends to lovers, humour ᠀𓏲 Summary: Both young and restless, Wooyoung and you have started out your careers around the same time. As newbies in the industry, you quickly found yourselves sticking together and growing closer with each passing day. Now, many years down the line, everyone knows that you and Wooyoung are inseparable besties, who have each other's backs and will crack up at the stupidest of jokes. As his stylist, it's also convenient that whatever Wooyoung loses just magically turns up in your possession since he's known for losing his stuff often. It takes you quite the years to figure it out, but when you do eventually, everything just clicks in place, all of it making sense.

A/N: Ooh, and Wooyoung's part is here! Hello, my lovelies, I hope you are enjoying our event so far, the rest of the stories are just as exciting as the previous ones hehe. This one here is a little bit sillier and all the cuter, imo. Also, what were the chances of Wooyoung attending another fashion week right as I was supposed to write this drabble? Anyways, thank you Wooyoung for gracing us with your hotness, totally appreciate it hahaha. Thank you for your support so far and for all the feedback you've left! I love hearing your thoughts, so don't be shy and share them with me. I hope you enjoy this one! ^^ divider @cromernet

᠀𓏲 Join the taglist here! ᠀𓏲

Taglist: @thecarnivaloflies @faeriehwa @mingiatz @xylatox @solaris-amethyst

@foxinnie8 @marvolos @licityvibes @amoryeonjun @nkryuki

@matchahintonagar @k1ttym0nkey @justconniez @ateezswonderland @lemonkait00

@youcanstayalways @cristy-101 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @wooyouz @cosmicrecs

@mizushimakumiko

The camera flash blinded you for a second as you squinted your eyes, trying to figure out just what was missing from the look. From a distance, everything looked perfect, but upon a closer look, you could tell something needed to be added to tie the whole outfit together. The flash went off again, and you bit your bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed, as your eyes moved from your best friend onto the screen you were standing in front of.

“Alright, now tilt your pelvis forward and lean slightly back!” The photographer instructed as your eyes traced your best friend’s sharp features. He was a handsome man, unique-looking with features that few other models could claim. His sharp jawline and gorgeous nose would catch anyone’s eyes when flipping through a magazine, and the uneven form of his eyes made you stare at the man. His tan skin-complex was gorgeous under the sunlight, and you often found people staring at him—yourself included. You enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and as his best friend and stylist, you were supposed to admire Jung Wooyoung in order to create the perfect look for whatever occasion he needed you for professionally, “Oh! Raise your leg. Yes, that looks amazing!”

You smiled a little to yourself, eyes drawn to the pictures as the flash went off again and again, capturing Wooyoung’s sharp but ethereal beauty. He wore black clothes today, the scaly silver vest standing out nicely against the rest of the clothes. But the longer you looked at the picture, the more you started realizing that Wooyoung forgot to wear a piece…again. He was an airhead on the worst of days, forgetting his stuff in his room—or worse, in a spot where you’d never find it again—or he’d downright lose his things. Luckily, his best friend, you, were always there to find whatever he had lost previously. You felt like your mother sometimes, reaching inside Wooyoung’s closet just to find the item he was complaining about not being there…being exactly there. It’s like your hands yielded magic like none other, like magnets to anything that was owned by Jung Wooyoung. You sighed as you shook your head, and your assistant raised her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, tone tinged with slight concern, “Do you not like the lighting? Are the angles bad? Should I tell the photographer we’re done for today?! I mean, I know he’s a newbie, but he’s really—”

“Relax,” You chuckled, grabbing her shoulder to squeeze it, “Everything’s fine. Wooyoung just forgot to put on his necklace. I’ll be right back.”

Your assistant visibly relaxed, and you watched her reach for her iced coffee, her hand slightly shaking as she raised the cup to her mouth. One would think she was Wooyoung’s manager by how much she fussed over the man, ordering the staff around if something seemed off to make sure Wooyoung had everything he needed. You left the room, walking down the hallway towards the dressing cabin, glancing at your wristwatch. It was getting late, and you were hungry. You still had to pack a bit, and your flight was in just two days. Wooyoung, much to the both of your joy, had been invited to the Paris Fashion Week. It’s been a longtime dream of his, and due to his perseverance and determination, he was finally living out his dream. And through him, by being by his side, you were also thriving like never before.

Wooyoung and you had met a good six years ago, when you were both too young and too dumb to realise what it meant working in the fashion industry. Wooyoung was just starting his modelling career, and you had been assigned your first big and important job as a stylist. Until then, you had been shadowing a well-known designer, sticking to his side to learn absolutely everything. Wooyoung, on the other hand, had no one to rely on. He came from a relatively modest family, and his parents hadn’t been the happiest when Wooyoung had told them about his career choice, but they didn’t stop him from following through with his wishes. It was a good thing, you knew how much it meant to have your parents’ support in anything you did. Your mother worked as a fashion article editor at one of the more well-known magazines, so to break in, you didn’t have to do as much hard work as Wooyoung did. And yet, the day you two had met, you both had felt like little unassuming kids, clinging onto each other for a little reassurance that you were doing well and not possibly about to ruin your careers before they could even start. After that first job of your lives, Wooyoung asked whether you wanted to get chicken wings with him, and, well, you’ve been having chicken wings with him after shoots ever since.

You smiled slightly at the memory, knowing well that Wooyoung would drag you to the nearest place that sold chicken wings and Soju, eager to end the day with a little alcohol in his system. He wasn’t a big drinker, but celebrating your success after a long day was always a must in Wooyoung’s book. First, you looked around the dressing room, thinking where the necklace could be lying, deciding to sift through all the discarded makeup on the tables. It wouldn’t be the first time that your jewellery got mixed up with the beauty items, but a quick sweep over the table proved that it wasn’t there. Next, you looked all over the sofas, coffee tables, and even inside Wooyoung’s duffel bag, only to come up empty-handed. Then, deciding that maybe it really was you who hadn’t handed Wooyoung the necklace, you went to your jewellery box and opened it, your eyebrows furrowed. You looked through it, making sure the fragile necklaces were safely in their protective cases—or else the brands you had rented them from would kill you and tarnish your name for an eternity—and still, it wasn’t there. You groaned as you stood up straight, trying to think harder, mentally rewinding your day to see whether you had left it at your office. Coming up empty-handed, you sighed in defeat and crossed your arms over your torso, pursing your lips as you turned to leave. Taking three steps away from your stuff, your eyes caught the unmistakable glint of diamonds peeking out from right underneath the grey blanket Wooyoung had used to cover himself with before walking to the shoot.

You scoffed and shook your head in mild annoyance, stomping over to the beanbag before you ripped the blanket off, the necklace glinting almost mockingly at you. You pursed your lips and carefully took it, holding it gingerly as you hurried back to the shooting room, just in time as the photographer called for a quick water break. He walked over to his computer with his professional camera, smiling at your assistant and then turning his head to the visual director to discuss more set ideas and poses that enunciated the clothes Wooyoung wore. Your eyes narrowed at your best friend as you stepped over all the wires, stepping out of your heels to not dirty the white canvas he stood on. He raised an eyebrow in amusement, opening his mouth to probably mock you for losing from your height quite significantly, but instead pointed at the necklace in your hands as a squeak left his mouth.

“Where’d you find that?!” He asked amazed, approaching you with excitement, “I’ve lost that this morning when Claire called me over for makeup.”

“Of course,” You scoffed as you muttered under your breath, narrowing your eyes at Wooyoung, “How many times have I told you that you can’t lose designer stuff when it’s rented, Wooyoung?! Do you think I have the money to pay for a necklace filled with diamonds if something happens to it?!”

The cheeky smirk already told you that you wouldn’t like his answer, “No, but I can certainly afford it.”

You groaned and slapped his arm not so gently, making Wooyoung whine before he started pouting, “Stop that; you’re acting like a spoiled brat in front of everyone. Now, lean forward for me, please.”

Wooyoung grinned and parted his legs slightly, leaning forward so that his face was positioned exactly in front of yours. He giggled and then stuck his tongue out when you two made eye contact, making you glare at him playfully before you reached forward, wrapping the diamond necklace around his warm neck. The design was special and intricate, and you loved the way it sat against Wooyoung’s skin. It sat tightly at the base of his neck, almost like a choker, the little diamonds glinting even brighter under the studio lights, and that wasn’t even what made it so special. You had to clasp the necklace together at the front of your neck because of the dangling chain that reached a little above Wooyoung’s belly button. It was exactly what Wooyoung’s outfit needed to make him look like the star he was, shining brightly under the white camera lights. Wooyoung’s eyes creased as he smiled at you sweetly, patting your head gently as a means of thanks.

“Now it’s perfect.” You muttered as you adjusted his collar once more, smoothing down the already smooth vest against his shoulders, but you just had to double-check everything. Wooyoung’s chest was exposed due to the very low V-neckline of the black sleeveless blouse he wore, tucked inside pants that flared around his legs and made his limbs seem longer. The chunky high heels he wore added to the charm, of course, but even without them, the pantlegs made Wooyoung’s legs seem like they stretched on for far longer as they pooled around his ankles. You had avoided using a belt since the emphasis was on the shiny scaled vest, heavy in your hands as you had helped Wooyoung into it. And now, with the diamond necklace around his neck, he looked like the model that was supposed to be on the cover of Vogue—which he would be with this issue. His long hair was whisked out of his face, and a few stray strands fell into his eyes, curling around his nape, with strands pinned behind his ears.

“Am I all ready to conquer the fashion world, Miss?” Wooyoung quirked an eyebrow as he stood up straight, looming over you and making you feel weird. You blamed those damn high heels and the fact that you had to be barefoot right now.

“Of course, you are, Mr. Jung.” You grinned and patted his chest, “You’re already a star.”

“The brightest, hopefully,” Wooyoung added, slightly quieter, and you hummed, offering him a small smile.

“To me, definitely.” He chuckled at your quiet reply, but you could see it on his face that it gave him the reassurance and little confident boost that he just so needed right now. You heard a clap behind you, and you knew it was your cue to leave Wooyoung alone, so you winked at him and then turned around, walking to your heels to step into them, then joined your assistant behind the scenes. The photographer grinned at Wooyoung as a stool was brought in, the background changing to a grey as a spotlight was focused on Wooyoung.

“Oh, this is really pretty.” The man muttered to himself, but you, being closer to him, heard it, “This is amazing, Wooyoung! Just do whatever feels good right now, grab your necklace, throw your head back, run your fingers through your hair, give me your most fierce glare—anything will do right now!”

“He’s so enthusiastic.” Wooyoung’s makeup artist chimed up behind you with a chuckle, back from his lunch break.

“I would be, too, if I got the chance to work with the Jung Wooyoung.” There was a slightly dreamy tone to your assistant’s voice, and you chuckled, giving her a questioning look.

“You do work with the Jung Wooyoung, though.” Your assistant flushed as she lowered her head, averting her eyes when the makeup artist started laughing a little too loudly. You elbowed him in the stomach, giving him a look that told him to shut up.

“Right,” The assistant muttered, pouting slightly, “He’s just so beautiful, it’s hard not to fall for him—not that I’m in love with him! It’s just—it’s good working with him; he’s a good person.”

“He really is,” You agreed as you watched your best friend do what he knew best, staring into the lens of the camera like a lion, fearless and ready to conquer, “Except when he’s yapping your ears off after a long day. Then, he’s the devil.”

Your co-workers chuckled at your playful jab, but they didn’t know it as well as you what it meant to ride back home in the same car with Jung Wooyoung after a very long and very tiring day, while all you wish for is to relax and be surrounded by silence, only for Wooyoung to either tell you random things he’s suddenly remembered, or ask the driver to turn up the music to scream the lyrics at the top of his lungs. And his voice wasn’t good, that’s why he was a model and not an idol.

Being Wooyoung’s best friend has changed you over the years. While growing up, you were never too outspoken, too scared of hurting others. You didn’t like being in the limelight and also tried to suck up to your superiors, thinking that would get you on their good side, making you a booked and busy stylist. That wasn’t the case, however, and if there was one essential thing you learned from Wooyoung, it was the fact that you shouldn’t stay silent if faced with mistreatment, you shouldn’t let anyone walk all over you or make you feel like shit for something you thought looked gorgeous. Being on Wooyoung’s side, working alongside him in a toxic industry that required you to have steel balls, is just who you became—an outspoken and honest person, unafraid to point out injustice or bullying. But by being Wooyoung’s best friend, you have also learned to laugh more, to cry without feeling embarrassed or weak, and the most important thing that he’s taught you…was to never let him go past five shots of Soju unless you wanted to stay up all night as Wooyoung sobbed with his head resting on the toilet seat, promising to never again drink alcohol. A week later, he was found dancing on top of tables with two cocktails in his hands. But these were the old times, times when you could act however you wanted, a bit more carefree and less stressed.

You couldn’t tell how it happened or when it started, but being by Wooyoung’s side just felt right. You didn’t feel the need to act a certain way in his presence; you could snort like a pig and wheeze like a witch, and no judgment would cross his features. You could also bare your heart to him, bleeding and aching, and he wouldn’t try to use your insecurities against you in the future. No, he’d make sure they were locked away from the rest of the world, even if he was mad at you. Wooyoung was a good person, and you were thankful you had met him. In a world where finding your soulmate was no easy feat, for some reason, you didn’t feel like you had to actively search for them. At times, you wondered if they were even real—the legend of your lost things wounding up in your soulmate’s possession—but then again, you were sure it was real because it happened to your parents, your aunts and uncles, and even your grandparents. It felt a bit silly and slightly concerning when you thought of all the things you managed to lose over the years, and yet, in some magical way, your possessions always turned back up in your hands. That is why you weren’t so sure of the prophecy anymore, of the invisible red string—or just a really smelly sock—that tied you to your fated lover.

You sighed as you swiped past three pictures of models clad in designer clothes, not quite pleased with the outfits. The light jazz music in the background was calming as your left leg bounced up and down, wine glass in the hand that didn’t hold the iPad. You could hear Wooyoung humming along to the music from the kitchen, tinkering about as if he was a kitchen fairy. You were over for dinner—which was unsurprising to anyone—for a good home-cooked meal before you’d depart to France. You hated flying, and the thought of being stuck inside an airplane for so many hours had your heart racing, but seeing Wooyoung’s relaxed demeanour calmed you a bit.

“The pasta’s almost done.” Came Wooyoung's voice as he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame. For someone as rich as Wooyoung, he certainly had no desire to flaunt his wealth around, judging based on his timid and cosy apartment. Hell, even his home in Paris was more flamboyant, screaming richness and big-city boy. The AMG cabriolet in the parking garage, however, did hint at your best friend’s wealth, “Have you made any progress?”

You sighed and shook your head, prompting Wooyoung to walk over. He wasn’t drinking tonight, said the pasta would puff him up, so he didn’t want to ruin his skin by also drinking. It was not that wine would cause more harm to his flawless complexion; it was just hard to move Wooyoung once he was convinced of something.

“I can’t find anything I like.” You muttered before you took a sip of your wine, swiping to the next picture. The leather pants looked good on the model; they weren’t skin tight, but they were low rise. You wondered if Wooyoung would like it just as he plopped down on the soft sofa.

“How about something I like?” He raised an eyebrow cheekily, and you chuckled, shuffling around to sit cross-legged. Your knee brushed against Wooyoung’s thigh, and his body seemed to melt back into the cushions as he leaned towards you, relaxing into your side. You smiled as you turned your iPad to show him the model and outfit.

“How about these pants?” You asked, remembering Wooyoung’s preferences, which rarely changed.

“Oh, they look nice.” Wooyoung hummed, zooming in on the picture, “I want these.”

“You do?” You asked, surprised, turning your head to look at your best friend. Wooyoung was a physically affectionate person, and once you had gotten used to it, you craved it if he didn’t give it to you. You liked it when he cosied up into your side, and in the rare moments when you both were too exhausted to drive home from each other’s apartments, you’d end up falling asleep together, cuddled up. You didn’t think it was very normal to say you really liked falling asleep in Wooyoung’s arms, so you kept that thought locked away deep down in your mind. You tried not to think about the fact that being around your best friend just felt right, a feeling you never got around anyone. One of your aunts had once told you that when she met her husband, she knew it was him because, one, she had lost her panties at customs somehow, and two, when their eyes met, this overwhelming calmness numbed her mind, everything about the man seemingly just…right. You sighed and shook your head when you felt Wooyoung looking at you with a questioning look on his face, “Sorry, the wine’s getting to me. What did you say?”

Wooyoung chuckled, then ruffled your hair with teasingly narrowed eyes, “You have to be on your A game if you expect me to take you with me to Paris, Missy. But I was saying…do you think it’d be too much if I showed more skin this time?”

Your eyes slightly widened, but you shook your head with pursed lips, “On the contrary, you’d hit the headlines, Mr. Jung. More headlines mean more engagement and curiosity—and what does that mean?”

“More money, more power, more wealth!” You singsonged at the same time before you burst out laughing, making Wooyoung groan.

“Who are you, and what have you done to my best friend?” He pouted, then took the iPad from your hands to swipe through the outfits you had selected as potential looks for his Fashion Week appearance, “I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to Jongho; now you’re a monster of capitalism as well.”

You laughed and subconsciously leaned your head against Wooyoung’s shoulder, sighing loudly once you settled down. You played with your glass of wine as you watched the pictures Wooyoung was swiping through way too fast to see anything, or so you thought because he made a surprised sound, quickly swiping back.

“Oh! I like this one!” He was pointing at a jacket; you hummed in acknowledgment.

“I thought I was your stylist.” You jabbed playfully, and Wooyoung laughed, putting down the iPad as he turned his head to look down at you. You slightly pulled your head off his shoulder, downing the rest of your wine.

“I just merely helped out. You can add the accessories and worry about the hairstyle and makeup.” You nodded but then realised his outfit wasn’t just yet complete.

“Right, and I also have to find you a shirt.” A beat of silence passed as a small smirk crept onto Wooyoung’s lips.

“Or not.”

“Or not?”

“Remember we just said more money, more power, more wealth?” You quirked an eyebrow as Wooyoung stood, slapping your thigh away playfully as you yelped in surprise, “Well, I’m working on just that, my dear.”

“So, no jacket, noted.” You muttered, favouriting the two pictures Wooyoung said he liked. You’d have to forward them to the brand tonight if you wanted the clothing items on Wooyoung in just three days, “By the way, have you seen my beaded bracelet?”

“The one I won for you as a joke at the fair?” You hummed, and Wooyoung shrugged, “Nope, why?”

“I lost it…again.” You whined as you threw your head back against the sofa, groaning as you wrist felt empty without it. Wooyoung had gotten you that bracelet five years ago. You rarely took it off, and yet you had managed to lose it anytime you did, which would make this one the fourth time you did. Your heart clenched at the thought of having actually lost the bracelet this time, but you were distracted by Wooyoung’s stomps as they came back towards you. You hadn’t even noticed him walking back inside the kitchen.

“Idiot,” Wooyoung huffed, then you felt something hit the side of your head, making you squeak in surprise, “You left it on the counter.”

You turned your head and looked down at the sofa, eyes widening as the beaded bracelet now lay next to you.

“I swear I didn’t!” You defended yourself, grabbing the bracelet to wear it, “I couldn’t find it since the photoshoot!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Wooyoung waved you off with dismissal as he headed back inside the kitchen, “Come eat, the pasta’s done. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

“Are you kicking me out, Jung Wooyoung?!” You raised your voice as you got off the sofa, grabbing your empty wine glass to bring to the kitchen.

“Hell, yeah, I am! Did you finish packing?”

He got you there. At your silence, Wooyoung just had a knowing smirk on his face. Fuck, and your flight was early in the morning tomorrow.

The whole place was a mess, and it was all your fault. You hadn’t even unpacked yet, even though you should have since you were staying here for a week. But you were usually too lazy to unpack, so your things ended up all over the floor and around your luggage. And this time, like many other times, that came to bite you back in the ass. You were pushing around the piles of clothes, mainly trying to find the top you had selected to wear for the event, but also because you had a bad feeling that you had lost…well, an item that you certainly didn’t wish anyone else to find. Not because it was embarrassing to own it, but because it was a bit…questionable. Your girlfriends had gotten it as a joke for your birthday last year, and well, the joke turned into an actually very appreciated gift by you. You sighed and fell back onto your ass, the floorboards warm since they had heating installed in them. Unlike the rest of your team, you had the privilege of staying with Wooyoung in his fancy apartment in Paris while you were here for Fashion Week. Today was the big day, and you were waiting for the makeup team to arrive. You and Wooyoung had gotten up early and had breakfast, serving a small cup of coffee on the balcony that overlooked the city, and for some reason, you started feeling nostalgic about all the things you’d gone through together to get here.

Wooyoung was affectionate but rarely the extra clingy type with you, so when he hugged you out on the balcony and thanked you for being by his side and encouraging him like no one else, you almost teared up. You also chose to ignore the weird flutter of your heart since this was your best friend, the guy you’d walk through fire for. Sighing again, you decided to give your clothes another dive when you heard a loud screech coming from outside your room. You jumped in fright and turned your body, listening for any other sounds. You doubted anyone had broken inside the apartment, but then again, why was Wooyoung reacting so strangely? Deciding you could find your top five minutes later, too, you ripped your door open and took about three steps outside before you froze, blood running cold and jaw dropping open.

“What the fuck?!” You asked, eyes on the ridged orange-purple dildo in Wooyoung’s hand. He had a weird expression on his face, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and it didn’t help that his blush spread from his neck down to his exposed chest. He was also in the middle of wearing his clothes, apparently; the button of his leather pants wasn’t even buttoned yet. Your initial shock barely seemed to pass, but then you felt laughter bubbling past your lips. Wooyoung’s mouth opened, but it seemed like he didn’t know what to say as he looked between you and his extended hand, “I had no idea you were into stuff like that.”

A beat of silence passed before Wooyoung’s whole expression turned flabbergasted, and it’s been too long since you heard your best friend lamely tumble over his own words, “What?! That’s—this isn’t mine! This is a dildo, bro! Why would I own a dildo?! I don’t—not that I have anything against taking it up the ass—I mean, I heard it feels good sometimes—wait! Forget I said that! Oh my god, I swear it’s not mine!”

“Then whose is it?” You quirked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh in Wooyoung’s face again. The problem, however, was that the dildo looked suspiciously similar to the one you had been looking for this morning…the item that you had packed before leaving and was now nowhere in your luggage. You gulped, and suddenly your throat felt dry as warmth crept up your neck and cheeks. Wooyoung noticed your sudden demeanour shift and looked down at the dildo in his hand, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“Whose is it, you ask?” Fuck, you hated your life as Wooyoung’s head fell back, a hauntingly shrill laughter leaving his mouth, “I had no idea you were into monster cocks—”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You shrieked as you stormed towards him, slapping your hand over his mouth as you ripped your dildo out of his hand, feeling mortified that your best friend had seen it. Your friendship transcended many boundaries, but not this one. This one was too intimate and definitely something you didn’t want Wooyoung knowing about, “I’m going to kill you, Woo, if you say anything to anyone about this.”

Wooyoung snorted as you released his mouth, raising an eyebrow mockingly, “Who am I going to tell? Your assistant? My makeup artist—wait, he might actually have better suggestions—”

“Wooyoung!” You screamed and slapped his chest, the sound loud as Wooyoung whined, cradling his naked chest as he gave you a pout.

“Hey, if that leaves a handprint, I’m posting your dildo on SNS.” Your eyes bulged out of your head, mortified all over again.

“Just—God, forget this happened! Delete it out of your memory, or something—don’t look at me like that!” But Wooyoung was cackling again, and because you had the sudden urge to shove him back and whine until he stopped making fun of you, you decided to storm back inside your room with your whole face beet red. You heard Wooyoung’s footsteps follow after you, but you still slammed the door shut for effect. He laughed before he nudged the door open, leaning against the doorframe as you shoved the dildo far underneath your pile of clothes. You still had to find your top, but currently, all you wished to do was jump off the balcony. Just how did your damn dildo end up in Wooyoung’s possession? You were sure you had packed it and then that you lost it somewhere underneath all the clothes, so just how did it turn up in Wooyoung’s bedroom? This felt like the end of the world as you groaned loudly, shaking your head. You expected Wooyoung to make another comment about the dildo, but instead, he said something else that made you flush again.

“Wear a jacket over your bra, and we’ll be matching.” Man, he just had to make everything worse. Your head turned sharply as you narrowed your eyes at Wooyoung, conscious that your torso was also bare except for your bra.

“I’m not going out there in a bra and jacket, Wooyoung.”

“Pity, everyone would see we belong together.”

And you had no time to question his words because the doorbell rang, signalling that the makeup team was here.

Today had been a successful day. The media was obsessed with Wooyoung, outlets were talking about him and wanting his attention and time while you were in Paris, so you couldn’t be prouder and happier. You loved watching your best friend from the sidelines as he shined like the star he was, deserving of all the adoration and appreciation. Wooyoung was a confident man, but even he had his lapses of judgment. It felt right to support him from the shadows, but it also felt right when he ran up to you after the event to squeeze you tight, lift you off the ground and twirl you around as you both giggled. Yeah, teenager you would’ve never believed you’d once actually achieve your dreams, especially not while finding a best friend for life in the process. You were so happy that it threatened to overspill, and you had no idea what to do with it, so you just settled on smiling until your cheeks hurt, but you didn’t care.

It was the evening now, and you were getting ready to go out for a celebratory dinner with the whole team. Your assistant had been bugging you with restaurants the whole afternoon, and in the end, you just told her to choose whatever she liked. She was over the moon and told you that you could trust her to choose only the best, and you believed her because ever since she started working for you, she had been excelling at her job. Your satin black dress was flowy and simple, a turtleneck that had to be clasped together, so Wooyoung had helped you before you struggled into your white stilettos. Now, you were trying to get your diamond earrings in—a present you got three years ago from Wooyoung—but you dropped the left one. You sighed and bent to pick it up—but it disappeared. You blinked, confused and slightly startled, looking at the empty floor. It was there a second ago, and now it was nowhere. You muttered a curse under your breath as you stood up straight, looking at the dresser to convince yourself you weren’t hallucinating, and indeed, the earring wasn’t there either.

“Hey,” You flinched and whirled around, no doubt looking like you’ve seen a ghost, “Did you lose your earring?”

There, in Wooyoung’s palm, lay the earring you had dropped seconds ago. Your mouth fell open as your heart started racing, your ears ringing as you found yourself unable to speak. Your body was jittery all of a sudden, cheeks warm as you kept staring at Wooyoung with a newfound understanding. Before you could utter the words that sounded completely mental even to yourself, Wooyoung continued, “Have you seen my wrist cuff? I think I dropped it somewhere—”

And no, you hadn’t seen the wrist cuff before, but now, yes, it was suddenly in your goddamn hand. Wooyoung’s words died out in his throat, eyes bulging wide as he gaped at you in shock. His breathing got faster and you watched his hands tremble as he looked down at your earring in his palm, and yeah, holy shit, all this time it’s been Jung Wooyoung.

“Fuck, what the fuck?!” Wooyoung whispered to yourself, approaching you with sparkling eyes, “It’s—me. And then—it’s you. We are—Y/N, are we—”

“We are soulmates, Wooyoung, holy shit!” You whispered back, still in disbelief, all those years of being by each other’s side suddenly replaying in front of your eyes as if you were watching a movie. How could you be so dense that you didn’t realise until now?!

“Wooyoung.”

“Y/N.” And then Wooyoung was laughing, cupping your face as he closed the distance, “We are so fucking dumb.”

You would’ve laughed, but Wooyoung’s warm lips were pressed against yours, and he tasted like grapes, so weird yet so addicting. You’ve never fantasised about kissing your best friend before—no, your soulmate—but as your bodies pressed together now, you couldn’t imagine living anymore without this. You fit together perfectly as if you were made for each other—which, unironically, you were—and it all felt surreal as your lips moved languidly against Wooyoung’s, so right and all so warm and fuzzy. His hand was gentle on your cheek as he caressed it, and your fingers twisted his ironed shirt as you hoped this moment never ended. All these years, your soulmate was right next to you, reachable and available, and you were living in the belief that the legend was nothing but that, a silly legend to keep everyone dreaming about the moment they’d find the one. And no, it wasn’t just a legend anymore; it was as real as it could get.

“We are idiots.” You muttered as you pulled back, pressing small kisses against Wooyoung’s lips, who tried to chase after your mouth when you detached yourself from him, “We have to get ready; the car will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Screw dinner, I want to stay here with you.”

“Wooyoung, we already know each other.”

“Yes, as best friends, but this—this is a new version of us.”

“Is it, really? Or will you lose your damn wrist cuff the second I turn my back to you?”

You both giggled, and you closed your eyes when Wooyoung kissed you again, slow and tender.

“Okay, whatever, let’s get dinner, but when we get back—”

“We will sleep because I’m completely exhausted.”

The spark of hope died out in Wooyoung’s eyes for a second, but it was swiftly back, “In the same bed?”

“Yes, in the same bed, Wooyoung.”

He fist-bumped the air, and you laughed, staring adoringly at your best friend turned soulmate. Oh, your life will be filled with so much happiness and love; this was everything you could’ve ever wished for. Maybe it is too early to say, but you loved Jung Wooyoung—your best friend, your soulmate.

527 notes · View notes

soldiersgirl · 4 months ago

Note

your latest posts have me thinking of ben with a perv younger gf reader that has too much energy and talks his ears off for fun 😩

she matches his freak so well that sometimes he's a little dumbfounded ughh

this INSPIRED ME to write a small drabble for it, i just couldn't resist bc she is me and i'm her

summary — just annoying the grandpa x

cw — reader x soldier boy. smut 18+ (if you squint), cursing, flirting, drinking, sarcasm, teasing, billy and hughie make a small appearance.

word count — 1690 words

sure, flirting had been different when ben was younger, but this? the modern way of flirting? even he was out of his depths at times and that certainly took some serious skill and courage to silence him.

it had all started innocently when butcher had reached out to you for a "favour", as he called it. so what, a guy saves your life once and now you owe him? fuck sake.

"babysitting? do i look like a teenager trynna earn some pocket money?" you groan on the phone to butcher.

"listen love. easy gig, quick cash. it couldn't be any fucking simpler. you just need to keep the git alive and out o' trouble, yeah? even you could fucking figure that out." he mumbles in reply.

"what do i get out of it?" you huff as you bend down to tie your shoes, knowing you were going to agree to it, no matter what, but why not tease billy while you're at it?

"get out of it? the cheek on you is astounding. fuck, listen. you get to fuckin' relax and i'll pay for your bloody dinner and give you 100 for it, alright?"

"alright, alright." you hold your phone between your head and shoulder as you pull on your jacket. "text me the address and i'll be there in twenty." you replied. billy merely groaned and then the dial tone. "dick." you scoffed before checking your texts, pulling on your headphones and heading out into the wild jungle of new york.

much to your surprise, your "favour" wasn't as small as billy had made it sound on the phone when you finally showed up at the dingy apartment, alongside him and hughie. you step inside and immediately the smell of sex, weed and fast food overwhelms you as you gaze around at the abandoned take-away boxes and half-drunk whiskey bottles. a towering figure wanders out from the bedroom dressed in grey sweatpants and a new york giants button up t-shirt and a lit joint dangling from his lips. your eyes connect, mirroring the same expression of confusion and disbelief.

"who the fuck is this?" the man huffs as he takes a hit from his thick joint and studies you.

"yeah, butcher..." you turn and cock your head at him in disbelief. "who the fuck is this?" you jut your thumb behind you and hear him let out a low chuckle before both him and butcher erupt into a fit of laughter. you stare at hughie for an ounce of help but he looks equally as uncomfortable as you. "billy, when you said babysit, i thought you meant for a fucking 5 year old or something!"

"alright sweetheart, i am 105 so, close enough and i don't need no cock-suckin' babysitter anyway." he swaggers closer and sits down at the cluttered, rickety kitchen table and takes a swig of the closest whiskey bottle.

"you're literally not helping the situation, grandpa." you turn and sneer at him. he only guffaws and inhales more of his joint.

"what a firecracker you've got yourself there, butcher. if she doesn't rope in her fuckin' attitude, i can't guarantee she's alive when you come back." he says calmly, as if it's the most normal thing to say. you jerk forward but butcher and hughie quickly pull you back.

"excuse us a minute, mate." butcher smiles and drags you into the hallway as you continue to protest and shout insults at the asshole.

"you've finally lost your mind if you think i'm fucking sticking around and babysitting an actual murderer." you begin, but butcher quickly cuts you off.

"listen love, he's just kidding, alright? the fella's 105, right? he's doped up on all kinds of meds, he can't hurt a fly right now. plus, he's saving his energy so you're not in any real danger. trust me." billy sways as he gives you that devilish smile, you've grown to know too well. "just keep soldier boy entertained and busy, let him talk your fucking ear off. doesn't get easier." he shrugs.

"... soldier boy?" you pause. butcher rolls his eyes and with the help of hughie, they quickly describe their catastrophic trip to russia and discovering the bastard was still alive and how they plan to use him to stop homelander. you can only nod and hum as you try to absorb the severity of the situation, but with a grain of salt.

"alright. look, i'll 'babysit' him this once." you use air quotes before running your hands over your face, not believing what you're agreeing to. "but this, this is fucking crazy."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, love." butcher huffs before dragging you back into the apartment and explaining the situation to soldier boy before handing him another bag of miscellaneous pills. they wish you luck and stuff some bills in your hand for dinner and suddenly, it was just you and the 105-year old man-child stuck together.

the first few hours flew by without an incident and you weren't quite sure how you had managed to listen to his incoherent rants about modern society and the state of feminism without losing your mind. it might have something to do with the fact that he could explode and kill you at any moment, but it could be also be because he offered you good weed in return which made everything much more tolerable.

you had eaten some cheap-ass pizza from a nearby restaurant before settling down with a beer or two and watching whatever was showing on his shitty tv. you would occasionally hum or nod in agreement to whatever nonsense he spewed just to keep him sated; he was so into hearing his own voice that it didn't register to him that he had barely heard yours.

until you were moaning and groaning his name as he ruthlessly thrusted himself into you right there on the same couch, with your ankles dangling above your head and his hand firmly around your throat. you weren't sure how this happened or escalated, but you definitely weren't complaining as you marvelled at his toned body and handsome features. the sly, fox-like grin and matching mischievous eyes, toussled chestnut, brown hair and jawline you could cut yourself on. he pounded into your slick folds at a delicious pace, slowly dragging himself in and out of you and gazing in awe at where your bodies connected. his back scratched up and your throat littered with love bites; leaving little gifts for one another on each others bodies.

you let him take out his years of frustration and pent up anger on your body as you laid and relished in the sensation of it; welcoming every word that slipped past his plush lips and every grab from his calloused hands with a grin on your face as multiple orgasms washed over you and ebbed away at your previous hesitations. and that's how it started, this thing between you and ben.

it wasn't exactly healthy and didn't always work out, considering the amount of times you'd get into shouting matches with the older supe, but billy now had a reliable baby-sitter, so he wasn't going to complain.

"jesus christ, do you ever shut the fuck up?" ben groans as you complain about the state of his apartment, finding pizza crusts scattered around, as well as finding weapons and drugs just laying haphazardly in places where you'd least expect them.

"only when your cock is stuffed into my mouth." you state matter-of-factly as you're bent over and letting your eyes glance over the sad contents of it; a few beers, the aforementioned knife and one expired milk cartoon. ben visibly freezes and splutters, the beer in his mouth catching in his throat. you snap up, slam the fridge and give him a wink whilst hiding your small smirk. there is nothing you loved more than getting under his "thick" skin. you start unpacking the groceries you had gotten for you both; it was going to be another long night of keeping him in line and unlike him, you actually needed to eat.

"back in my day, ladies wouldn't have a mouth on 'em like you do." he scoffed, trying to act like your words weren't affecting him they way you know they were.

"you know ben? you're so fucking stuck in the past, that you have no clue how to function here! we're all trying to help you but you're just too fucking stubborn," you start and he lets out a groan as he knew what this meant; another one of your long tirades about whatever was occupying your mind. he was getting a taste of his own medicine, so he tried to keep his complains to a minimum as he settled into the kitchen chair and watch you with a beer. you rant for a little while and all he does is grunt and him, knowing it's better to just let you talk then to interrupt you; he's unsuccessfully tried a few times.

"looks like i need to fuck you harder to get my fuckin' message across." he just grumbles as you finally sit down opposite him with a scowl.

"if you're not careful, i'll fuck you harder and show how you a real women works these days." you laugh as ben takes over your previous scowl and just shakes his head. "oh ben, i am a ride that you wouldn't survive." you wink dramatically and to his dismay, he blushes before knocking back the rest of his beer.

"i should've stayed in the fucking '50's." he groans and runs his hands over his face, rubbing his beard as his tired eyes glance over you.

"but then, you wouldn't have experienced me bouncing on you, crazy style." you pout, leaning forward and grabbing his hands. he abruptly stands up and sighs before announcing that he needed a fucking nap and a bottle of jameson before he could handle anymore bullshit from you. you're left sat with a shit-eating grin, knowing that in an hour or two, he'll come crawling back and begging to hear you talk dirty to him as he pounds into you.

a/n: idk what this is but here we are. this is what my brain conjured up and honestly, this took too long for me to write, so im sorry anon that this is so late </3 -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @doeinlace @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted (comment or inbox me to be added)

924 notes · View notes

spaceycat · 3 months ago

Text

bucky being a human furnace is so canon, right now im mainly going to be posting drabbles because shit be crazy rn and my schedule is FILLED TO THE BRIM... so we're going on a small little tiny hiatus. enjoy this drabble lovelies <3

this is a fluffy fic!! i'm too tired to write smut and i just needed this rn 😭

⋆★⋆ human furnace ⋆★⋆

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: dream a little dream of me by the mamas and the papas (3:14)

You were naturally cold, always wearing multiple layers even when it's reasonably warm outside, a blanket always wrapped around you and the heater cranked so high - but that soon backfired on you.

It was the middle of winter, it was actively snowing outside - the streets being flooded with white snow upon parked cars and the side of the icey street outside your apartment. The problem was:

Your heater was broken.

There was nothing you could do about it, you had no mechanical skills and in a way you would make it worse than what it already was. Every mechanical service was down or busy for the holidays, so you just had to sit in your kitchen - using your oven as a makeshift heater while you were drowning in jumpers and blankets.

That's when you heard your front door unlocked, that's when you dragged your phone out from the many layers on top of you - realising the time, the time that Bucky said he would be over to deal with some work with you and just.. hang out? His text messages are confusing sometimes, but you couldn't expect much from the guy who was born during the 1910's.

And that guy was very much in your apartment now, and you're sitting on the floor in your kitchen like some idiot - you pushed the blankets off of you, creating a lump of fabric in the corner of your kitchen as you quickly checked your reflection in the window above your sink, running into your living room and Bucky was there, taking off his jacket and scarf that was covered lightly in snow. He took note of your shivering and the sheer amount of sweaters and hoodies you had on.

"It looks like you just went into a snow storm y'know.""My body is my own personal snow storm." "Mm.." He just simply hummed at that, placing his messenger bag on your couch before he walked over to you - wrapping his arms around you, his warmth surrounding you.

You weren't particularly expecting to do this, or for him to be this warm. You knew he was naturally warm, from light accidental touches or him placing a hand on the back of your chair instinctively. You silently thanked the super-soldier serum that most likely made him the human furnace that he is.

You leaned into his warmth instinctively, wrapping your arms around him in return after a moment. "You're freezing.""I thought you knew that." "I do now.. it finally makes sense why you're wearing jumpers even in summer." You'd pull back from him, his hand resting loosely around your waist. "My heater is shot, had to resort to desperate things." You tilted your head towards the kitchen in a gesture of the blankets on the ground. "Heater's shot?" He raised a brow at you. "Mhm." "Get yourself some tea.. or just-- something, I guess. I'll fix it." "Buck-- you don't have to." "If it means that I won't have to see you shivering all the time, I'll happily do it."

You eventually returned with a cup of tea, the heat from the mug cupped in your hand slowly warming it up from the cold. In the otherhand, a metal box hopefully containing all the tools that Bucky can do to fix your heater.

He took it from you with a simple "Thanks", you watched him tinker with the machine for awhile - it was definitely a sight you could get used to, your hand keeping your head up as you lean against the arm chair of your couch that let you have the perfect view of Bucky. You felt so warm from his presence it almost cured your temperature dilemma.

After a short while, the familiar humming of the heater started up again. Bucky stood up, closing the box of tools - setting it on the coffee table next you. The soft clang bringing you out of your thoughts. "All done." He sat down beside you, a short sigh coming from his lips as he sat. You looked over to him muttering a "Thank you.", a desperate plea in your eyes for him to hold you close again. He looked at you, a small grin forming on his face as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you closer to him.

You rested your head on his chest, nuzzling into him a little bit more. His hand that was wrapped around your shoulder was now playing with your hair a small amount, almost as it was normal for him to.

You've been working on the heater since the early hours of the morning, it driving you out of your sleep - so it wasnt a surprise for you to slowly fall asleep against the warmth of the man that was Bucky Barnes.

As he heard your soft breaths, he grabbed the blanket wrapped over the couch that was nonetheless a result of your attempt at keeping yourself warm and draped it over you - placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head. Holding you forever closer as he heard the snow slowly fall outside. He could get used to this too.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes marvel #marvel bucky barnes #marvel fluff #marvel au kinda #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #marvel x reader #marvel #x reader #fluff #spaceycat #drabble #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x you

404 notes · View notes

pencil-n-pen · 6 months ago

Text

OVERWORKED

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

leon kennedy x fem! reader

summary: You’re still struggling with overworking. Leon shows you when it’s time to take a break.

master list | previous (not required but gives some context) next

cw: once again, female pronouns used but reader’s features are not described, some suggestive content, dom! leon much more heavily this time, very not subtle praise kink (use of good girl), pet names, tbh rating COULD be pg-13 but i don’t write nsfw so minors ur fine :) uhhhh non-sexual sub-space if you squint?

tags/tropes: once again hurt/comfort, cuddles, leon being touchy again (reader is just as touchy honestly) soft dom behavior (leon)

a/n: a little continued drabble for those of u who asked/liked the last one !! hope u like it @cherryandsugar <3

MY ELDEST DAUGHTERS WITH PRAISE KINKS MAKE SOME NOISE 🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💯💯💯

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

You’re overworking again.

You don’t mean to, necessarily. It’s just always what you do. Work, work, work. It needs to get done, so you do it. No matter how tired you are, no matter how much you don’t want to do it. No matter how many tears get shed. It needs to get done. You have to do it. So you do it.

Leon’s been taking issue, with it though.

You’re not really sure what you are to each other, yet. He definitely finds you attractive —he tells you pretty much everyday, an almost overuse of words like hot, sexy, cute, amazing, and of course, his favorite; princess.

He occasionally comes over to the place you and a few other girls rent together and does his absolute best to be as distracting as possible. Sometimes he cooks, sometimes he gets touchy, sometimes he just sits on your bed and watches you work which is, in your opinion, by far the worst one.

When he’s not bothering you in the comfort of your own home, he’s sitting next to you in the couple classes you share, a distracting hand on your thigh that he squeezes when you get a question right— something that never fails to make you breathless and dizzy for a few minutes afterwards. Between the sight of his hand engulfing your thigh and the frequency of your correct answers, it’s a miracle you don’t asphyxiate during class.

You did come close, once. It was a week after what you’ve dubbed The Library Incident, and the professor had singled you out as one of his most consistent students when it came to turning in homework. Leon had leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and whispered, all low and rumbly:

“Good girl.”

You didn’t get a single thing out of the lecture for the rest of class.

(You’d then given him the silent treatment, but he made up for it by you sending you his rather extensive and detailed notes from the lesson with a single text: “Better learn to multitask, princess.”)

So yeah. He isn’t a huge fan of your studying habits. Something he’s made abundantly clear.

“When was the last time you got up?” He grumbles, walking into your room with your now full reusable water bottle. You’d abandoned it in the kitchen a few hours ago. He’s such a stickler about your water intake.

“Who are you, my mother?” You pause, looking up at the mischief in his eyes and the way his mouth is open, poised to say something, likely dirty. “Don’t answer that.”

You reach out with grabby hands towards your water bottle, which you know is filled with some delicious water combination, courtesy of Leon. Shit, he’s Pavlov-ing you into drinking water, isn’t he?

He rolls his eyes, handing you the bottle. “You know, you can make this exact same water yourself with the items in your fridge. Which I put there. For you. To use. Yourself.”

“You make it better,” You answer smoothly, ignoring his sarcasm. Ooooh. It’s minty strawberry today.

“Oh?” He says with a raised eyebrow, a signature Leon smirk on his lips. The same one he always gets when you admit to liking him in some way.

“You’re such an attention whore. Isn’t that why you came over here?”

“Ouch. So touchy,” He tuts, draping himself over your back and resting his chin on your head. “But no. I came over here to drag the lovely and beautiful and terribly stubbornly princess away from her desk because she’s overworking again.”

You tense. “I can’t, Leon. Not right now. I have to finish this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“I get behind and then I can’t catch up and then I fail—“

“Woah, now,” He says, standing and spinning your desk chair so it faces him instead of your work. “None of that is going to happen if you take a break. We both know your work ethic is too good for that.”

You start worrying your lip between your teeth. “But—“

“Hey,” He says, a gentle, slow hand reaching out and brushing your lip away from your teeth. “None of that. Leave your lip alone.”

You wince. It’s a mindless action, the same way you pick at your hangnails and other parts of your skin when you’re stressed. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Just don’t want my girl hurting herself more than she already is.”

You ignore the latter part of his sentence and focus on the first. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” He says, tilting his head and looking down at you with a small smile on his face. “My girl.”

You look down at your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I won’t be able to sleep or relax if I don’t finish this. It— I can’t.”

He takes the side of your face in his hand, thumb sweeping across your cheek and beneath your eyelid. “I know, baby. But you work too much.”

“But I have—“

“You have to, I know. I know you’re hardwired for independence and overworking. So how about this. Take a break, lie down in bed with me, and then finish only what you’ve already started.”

You start chewing on your lip again. “I—“

His fingers deftly move down to your jaw, grabbing it firm, thumb pressing on the edge of your lip and pulling it down, away from the merciless bite of your teeth. His grip leaves no room for argument, but you don’t feel frightened or scared. In fact, your stomach is doing flips at the careful, gentle control in the press of his hands and the fondness in his eyes.

“I know I phrased that very nicely, but this isn’t an argument, sweetheart. You need to rest. Your brain needs time to recharge. What happens if you get sick from all this working, huh?”

You decide now isn’t the time to bring up that you always work through every cold, flu, and fever you’ve ever had.

“Hey,” He leans down, catching your averted gaze. “Look at me.”

He could easily turn your head himself, his fingers still pressed against your jaw, but he doesn’t. He waits for you to muster up the strength to look over at him yourself, eyelashes fluttering.

His gaze is cool and deep when it meets yours. “I am not mad at you. I am not upset with you. I just want you to take care of yourself.”

His voice, gaining that low, rumbly edge when he ushers the words sends tingles up your spine. You sigh, letting the tension ease from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’ll try harder.”

“You’re doing just fine, okay?” He pulls you up by your hands, hand leaving your face as he tugs you over to your bed. Once you’ve sat down, he reaches back towards your desk, grabbing your water bottle from your desk and putting it on your bedside table. “You just need a little help sometimes. Everybody does.”

He motions for you to scoot over and you oblige, immediately slotting into what’s become one of your usual positions: arms wrapped around his torso, head pillowed on his chest.

“There we go,” He mumbles, hand sliding under your shirt, intermittently squeezing the place his hands always seem to find: the squishy, vulnerable stretch of flesh in between the top of your hip and the bottom of your ribcage. He rolls the skin there in his hands, a pleased hum rumbling from his chest. “Such a good girl for me.”

You shudder, hiding your blush by pressing your face further into his chest. A tingle spreads from your spine to the rest of your body.

He chuckles. “Aw, you like that don’t you? Did the same thing last time. Is that all I have to do? Is that what you need, baby?”

A small whine rip’s itself from your throat before you manage to tamp it down. Embarrassed, you try and hide your face further.

“None of that, now. Come on, let me see that pretty face.”

You shift, rolling to basically lie on top of him, bracing your hands on either side of him to lift your head, a small frown on your face and a not-so-small flush across your face.

He smiles, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “There she is,” He practically coos, “My pretty baby.”

“You’re baby-talking me.”

“Mhm,” He says, squeezing your cheeks. “You got a problem with it?”

“…No.”

“What was that?”

You drop back down, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his chest. “Shhh. I’m supposed to be resting.”

“Convenient that you’re listening to me now.”

“Shush.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t say anything more. He slips his hands under your shirt, palming the expanse of your skin. His fingers are hot where they press and linger, warmth spreading from the points of contact. You go limp in his hold, humming contentedly.

You’re not really sure how much time passes with the both of you like that— bodies pressed close, legs tangled together. It just feels so… nice.

You relax. You actually relax. A small part of you feels annoyed that Leon is your source of comfort and relaxation (muttered whispers in your brain whine about independence, about not relying on anyone else—) the bigger, louder part of you is so overwhelmed with how nice it feels to just… not worry. Even for a little bit. In moments like this your brain goes pleasantly blank: Leon will take care of it. You don’t have to worry, because Leon will take care of it.

The stretches of time you spend in what you’ve mentally dubbed Limbo have started getting longer. At first, you’d last five, maybe ten minutes before your brain would kick into high gear again; worries and concerns flooding your brain so quickly you usually jolt straight up.

But now? It’s easy to slip into it. To let yourself take a mental break. Check out from life for a half hour or so. And when you’re ready to get back to work, you do just that- usually a lot calmer than before Leon came around.

It’s addicting. It’s dangerous.

“How long has it been.”

“Five minutes.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning. “It has not been five minutes,” You reach for your bedside table, snatching your phone off and checking the time. “Liar. It’s been thirty minutes.”

“Is it so wrong to want to lay in bed and hold my princess?”

“It is when the princess has work to do.” You grumble, sitting off and rolling off the bed with a thud.

“It’s so unnerving when you do that. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“No,” You say, hauling yourself to your feet. “It’s fun.”

“I don’t see how sustaining bodily injury is fun.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” You say, waving a hand in dismissal.

Loud shuffling and the thump of Leon climbing to his feet has you looking back. “You’re leaving?”

You can’t quite keep the desperation out of your tone.

He looks at you, surprised. “Usually you don’t like it when I stay while you work.”

“Yes,” You say, cheeks burning. “Um. Yeah. Right yeah. I have work to do. So.”

“Princess,” He says, his voice low and teasing, “You want me to stay?”

“No, no I have to work—“

“Uh-uh,” He says, crossing the room to stand in front of you, arms folded. “No lying. Do you want me to stay?”

You look down at your sock-clad feet. “Please?”

“Aw, well how could I say no to that,” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Finish your work. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“…Can we go get slushies when I’m done?”

“Of course, baby.”

You finish your work in record time.

˙⋆✮

911 notes · View notes