#took more hours of my life already than I was expecting to give it

[kevin-the-bruyne]

why I thought the kristsingto dance was offensive

My reaction to the KristSingto dance was, in fact, pure and utter shock with an immediate follow up of "well good for Thailand for being so progressive" and that was what I thought would be the end of my engagement with that performance and yet when I read this post by scarefox with commentary added by thebroccolination and hallowpen (mentioned to give credit untagged because I have social anxiety and forcing people to read my post is my worst nightmare) my mind was filled with thoughts that took me the greater part of the day to sort through and I still don't know if the following will be adequate. Because OH HO HO as it turns out Thailand isn't that progressive which means that this performance was constructed to be like this ON PURPOSE. This post is in conversation with some of the concepts brought up in the linked post so it will be helpful in understanding the direction I've chosen to go with this. But the linked post is a great post and you should read it regardless. There is much to love about the Kristsingto concert and even more to love about their sexy dance - the primary of which is how it makes every single one of my Asian sensibilities ring MAD alarm bells. I'm a diaspora south asian but I moved to the US alone when I was 18 which means I have an intact sense of Asian respectability, regularly replenished by my parents. I MEAN LOOK AT IT - THEY ARE ON A FREAKING BED!!!! SIR THAT IS A BEDROOM ACTIVITY ONLY

But some serious highlights as to what about this performance sets it apart: 1) The performance is focused on sensuality and desire. They're dressed like dancers and not particularly sexy ones. Everything about this performance is pared down to only focus on their movements. The costumes are simple, the bed is simple, the lighting mostly monochrome. There is nothing to see here BUT their desire for each other and the sex they are simulating

2) They are playing to each other and ONLY to each other and not the audience. This is probably THE REASON why it clocks differently from literally every other raunchy performance. They are dancing for EACH OTHER. The performance starts behind a screen, and the sex simulation is the most intense at this stage but then THE SCREEN FALLS but for the purposes of the performance, KristSingto don't even acknowledge it. The audience is THRUST into the position of a voyeur and remains so throughout the performance. Like there is a BED that looks like it came straight out of Krist's bedroom like give me a fucking BREAK sir those are inside house, behind closed doors activities you are engaging with on stage.

Even the parts where Krist or Singto face the audience it is a) never together at once and b) they are mirroring each other's movements highlighting their connection to each other over their individual connection with the audience. There is no hip thrusting, no flirtatious looks, absolutely nothing that would even remotely suggest that they're trying to titillate the audience. All the titillation is directed towards each other. This feeling of looking into a private moment is deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

3) It's KristSingto. So much to be said about this and I have a strong feeling that I am not the person who should be speaking about this. But it's Krist and Singto, highly respected veterans of the industry who don't 'need' to be engaging in these types of 'extreme behaviors' to get ahead. So why would Kristsingto need to 'resort' to these behaviors?

Well, because the purpose of art, and I would argue quite specifically queer art, is to push the boundaries of how society allows the 'self' to behave and express itself. There is a reason why BL has captured the fascination of so many straight women. I would argue this is true everywhere but specifically for Asians, the shackles placed on queer sexuality did not feel so different from the shackles placed on women's sexuality period. Queer sexual liberal *is* sexual liberation and there are a lot of outgroup parties who have a vested, personal interest in pushing this agenda forward. I have to stop before this gets so long that I have to find a university to grant me a masters but 'Fanservice Is Wrong' and 'Fanservice Has Finally Gone Too Far' is just the fan service discourse. But the truth is that Fanservice *IS* radical queer visibility and always has been. I started my fandom journey in JPOP nearly 15 years ago and that was the conversation then [link takes you to a fanservice kiss between Ninomiya Kazunari and Ohno Satoshi from Arashi in 2008 that was 6 years in the making but I digress] and apparently if KristSingto will get to have their way that will be the conversation now. To deny their dance as offensive is to deny the incredible ways in which it's in conversation with the society they're operating in, the risks they are still taking even amidst widespread celebration for the Marriage Equality Bill in Thailand.

KristSingto had totally blown the doors, windows and glass ceilings wide open with SOTUS that I would argue had rippling effects on the BL being produced throughout Asia, not just Thailand. And the pressure of that was SO high, that attention so unexpected and burdensome that neither could actually stay and enjoy that moment. OffGun and TayNew had reaped more fruits from KristSingto's labor than Krist and Singto. KristSingto isn't just another branded pair - they are quite literally BL royalty and they are not here to play games. Except this time they are pushing the envelope with their eyes wide open and I am buzzing to see what's next for them.

[chuluoyi]

𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

as dawn breaks, a new chapter begins. now husband and wife in the truest sense, both of you embark on the path of happiness together. yet, bittersweet loose ends remain still. will they eventually stay in the past for good, or cast a permanent shadow over your lives?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy & sex, mentions of complications related to pregnancy, brief description of childbirth (c-section), hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here)

note: part 2 to nocturne of twilight. my god, i honestly didn't expect it'd turn out into another 8k fic but here we go :')

Lately, Zayne has come to realize just how much joy you bring to home when you’re happy.

Your smile and giggles simply light up the place.

And moreover, you get happy at the simplest of things—head pats, his snowmen... Even when he responds with jabs just to get a rise out of you, there's always a part of his heart that softens.

Today began just like one of those joyful days. He dropped you off at the Hunter Association base before heading to the hospital, and later, he planned to pick you up and perhaps stop for macarons on the way home—

Or so he thought, until...

"Hello, Dr. Zayne! Sorry for startling you. Can you come to my office? Your wife just collapsed and she is brought here."

. . .

Zayne raced to Dr. Munson's office on the third floor, panic gradually overtook his every step. His mind whirled with all the possible reasons you might end up at—

Ob-gyn office. Wait, what?

The realization struck him just as he flung open the door to his colleague’s office.

"Ah, the man of the hour has arrived!" Dr. Munson greeted him with an ear-to-ear grin.

Zayne gave a quick nod but bypassed him to head straight to the bed where you were.

You looked pale and sluggish, your eyes squeezed shut. He immediately took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, and you opened your eyes in surprise to see him there.

"Zayne..." you murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and offering a faint smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he gently touched your cool cheek.

"A bit dizzy..."

Seeing you so meek made something inside him lurch. Just this morning, you had been full of life, pouting and playfully teasing him, and now you looked so exhausted.

"Well, maybe you already know this, Dr. Zayne, but still, congratulations!" Dr. Munson clapped his hands merrily. "Your wife is pregnant!"

Pregnant. Zayne stood frozen for a moment. In truth, while the very thought flitted in his mind from the moment he walked in, it didn't make it less surprising all the same. "I see..."

Then he turned to look at you, and to his surprise, you looked away, a shy smile played at your lips, as if you were trying to make yourself as small as possible.

A child. You were with child. His child.

"How far along?"

"Almost ten weeks, give or take. Well, aren't you the one who knows the most?"

"Is she alright? Anything I need to watch out for?"

"Ooh! How sweet!" Dr. Munson laughed crisply. "The cool-headed Dr. Zayne is worrying about his wife! The nurses are going to have a field day when they know this~"

Zayne shot him a look, but didn’t miss a beat as he retorted, "Of course I am."

You looked up at him silently, your heart fluttering at his earnest response. Zayne had always been resilient, but now he seemed more dashing than usual as he fired questions after questions at Dr. Munson about you and the baby.

Baby... both of you were going to become parents. It still felt surreal, but with Zayne’s warm grip on your hand, it began to feel real. You were almost giddy.

But then, it struck you— the baby was around ten weeks.

Then it meant the day of the conception was that night.

. . .

“Here, hold onto me.”

Zayne opened the door to his car and supported you as you carefully stepped out. You were still unsteady on your feet, so he returned you back home to rest rather than heading back to the Hunter Association’s base.

“Have you been feeling unwell these past few days?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you made your way inside. “Usually, the symptoms have been noticeable for a while.”

“Hmmm,” you pursed your lips, feigning coyness. “I... don’t think so?”

Zayne quirked an eyebrow, sending you a withering stare as he realized your ruse. “So you have.”

“Hehe...” you flashed him a sheepish grin, causing him to shake his head in exasperation and pinch your cheek. “Ow!” you squeaked, quickly bringing your hand to your face.

Zayne stifled a smile, then gently guided you to the sofa. He crouched down in front of you, meeting your gaze as he took both of your hands in his.

"You need to tell me these things from now on, alright?" he said, and his steadfast gaze made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"We..." you started, steeling yourself, "are going to have a baby," you gulped, feeling heat spreading to your cheeks.

He was unfazed. "Mm, we are."

You shifted uneasily, avoiding his gaze. "Are you... happy?"

Your voice wavered at the end, and your hand felt clammy. Suddenly, your stomach too twisted with nausea. Who would've thought that you would conceive a baby from a night that he called a mistake?

However, Zayne tilted his head, seemingly taken aback. "I am."

"Huh?"

"I am happy," he repeated, blinking back at you. "Are you?"

You gaped, caught off guard by his candid response—but then again, when had your husband ever been anything but straightforward?

"But you don’t seem happy!" you accused, pursing your lips. "You’ve been frowning the whole way home."

He shot you a flat look, his expression unchanged. "This is just my face."

You continued to pout, and Zayne sighed. His frown softened as he gently cupped your face, making you look up at him.

"You silly girl, what husband won't be thrilled when they hear that his wife is expecting?" he caressed your face, before poking it. "I'm just worried about you, you still look pale."

"You..." your eyes found his uneasily, at a loss of words. "But this baby is…" Your gaze dropped, anxiety swelling. "From… the night of—"

Your response stunned him, and you didn't dare to look him in the eye. It was still something that gnawed at you inside, because what if—

What if he thought this baby is a mistake?

In that moment, understanding dawned on him. His ashen eyes widened in surprise. You braced yourself for his reaction, but then—

His hand rested on your head, patting you gently. "You carrying our baby..." he faltered, gazed fixed on your averted eyes and then lips. His voice came almost in a whisper:

"This... is the best thing that has happened to me."

Thump! Your heart soared, warmth flooding through you in that very instant as you met his gaze. On the contrary, Zayne felt a crushing weight seeing the tears shining in your eyes. How deeply had he hurt you before that you’d doubt his feelings?

"I promised you that I’ll treasure you better," he said, pulling strands of your hair behind your ears. "This time, let me prove it to you."

Somehow you felt like crying at the sheer sincerity in his words. "You... like the baby?"

A gentle smile touched his lips as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I do. Truly."

"I... am so happy too," you finally choked up, the first tear slipping down your cheek. You quickly brushed it away, feeling a bit silly for tearing up. "I... have always wanted us to be a family..."

Zayne pulled you into his arms, letting out an exasperated but fond sigh. "A certain someone really does like to cry... And now with a baby on the way, am I going to lose my mind worrying about both of you?"

"Hmph," you wrinkled your nose. "A certain dad-to-be better work on his skills to express himself better, then."

"I'm going to focus my energy on more important things, such as thinking of all ways I should do to keep you from getting into trouble."

"...? I don't get into trouble!"

"You stumble even on empty air, I've seen it myself."

Two years ago, you had envisioned your happily ever after with him, and then you weren't sure if you would get it at all. And now, as you walked towards a new beginning together, you were wholly certain.

At least, that was what you thought.

The days following the reveal of your pregnancy were filled with bliss.

Only that, sometimes... you ask for tall order—

"Zayne... I want that plushie..."

"We have tried it three times already. That machine is rigged."

"B-but! Look, that couple won some!"

Some weeks later, the two of you were at an arcade, and your eyes were literally shining as soon as you saw the Happy Snowman plushie in the claw machine.

And ever since, you had been tugging at his sleeve and dragging him to catch it for you... only to no avail so far.

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. "With the way you’re acting, no one would believe you’re about to become a mom."

"Isn't that the whole point?" you fired back, puckering your lips, before mustering your best puppy eyes and bringing your hands together. "Please? Baby wants it so much."

He knew you were using the baby card just to get your way, but you looked so adorable doing it that it often worked—evident from how he lined up once more for the long queue at the claw machine.

"This is the last time," he decided, giving you a flat stare when you two reached your turn. "If we lose, we're buying the one in the souvenir shop."

"Teehee~" you giggled in delight. You'd get your plushie either way. Zayne was always listening to you even with his grumbles, and it made you inwardly kick your feet in joy.

Despite being cross, Zayne was better at this than you. He almost snagged some plushies several times, and this time, he skillfully maneuvered the claw, pressing the button with precision—

“Oh!” Your eyes sparkled as the claw secured your prized Happy Snowman. “Zayne! Just a little more!”

"Yeah, yeah..."

Just like that, the claw released the snowman into the hole. As soon Zayne handed it to you, you practically squealed. "Ahh! Finally I got you!"

You were so full of childlike excitement, even though you were just months away from bringing a child into the world yourself. Zayne watched you silently, and despite himself, a soft smile tugged at his lips.

"Do you want more?" he asked. "We still have three chances left."

"Yes!" You beamed at him. "I want the penguin and crow!"

Apparently, he was weak to your wishes. He then took the machine again, and maybe luck blessed him this time because soon enough, he got you two of them right after the chances ran out.

“Hehe! We’re bringing them home!” You patted each plushie with delight, your giggles drawing the attention of nearby kids.

"Mom, look! That uncle gets many plushies!"

Zayne felt his eyes twitch. Uncle...?

You tried and utterly failed to hold back your laugh.

And you heard another couple bickering nearby as they threw glances at you and your husband—

"I want that crow plushie..." the woman lamented, despondently eyeing the claw machine and the three plushies Zayne had managed to win for you.

Her boyfriend, a scary-looking tall man with red eyes and rider garbs, turned to her with a snort. "Why would you even need that ugly crow for? We have crow at home."

"...Mephisto doesn't count! You're just saying that because your luck and skill are trash!"

"Tch. I can open a whole arcade just so you can tear those plushies into shreds, sweetie... just so you know, there’s a price when dealing with a devil, hmm?"

Opening an arcade only to satisfy his girlfriend's wants? You thought in a passing. Crazy.

. . .

And then your emotions are practically a whirlwind of roller coaster...

“You’re mean!” you sniffled, pointing a righteous finger at your husband and the kitty cards on the table. “You always reduce my kitties whenever you get the chance!”

Zayne exhaled, trying to explain himself. “I just make do with the cards I’m dealt with.”

“But you’re trying to take out my cats all the time!”

“That’s the gameplay. If I let you win, you’d say I’m underestimating you.”

“So, are you saying I’m bad at this?” You looked at the cards with heartbreak etched on your face, your lips quivering. “Am I?”

Uh-oh, he knew what it was. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears and one wrong word could set you off altogether.

“No, you’re not bad...” he began, carefully choosing his words. “The kitties... they’re just not cooperating with you, that’s all.”

“So, they’re cooperating with you,” you pouted, cross. “Is that what you’re trying to say?!”

Sigh... this is going to take a while...

But ultimately... you’re also incredibly precious.

“I’m going to make an amigurumi for our baby,” you announced, smiling brightly as you settled between his legs with a crochet kit and a snowman pattern in hand. “I just know they’ll like it.”

“You know how to crochet?” Zayne asked, resting his chin on your shoulder and slipping an arm around your waist, gently touching your growing bump.

“Hmph!” You tilted your chin up with a smirk, turning to face him. “Of course, I can!”

“Oh…?”

“It’s a little side hobby,” you explained with a giggle. “I can’t resist having and making cute things~”

Zayne thought he’d laugh, but instead, it was a wave of bittersweetness that washed over him. Because apparently, even after being married to you for two years, there were some things about you he didn’t know.

He was fond of you. He knew you liked a fair amount of sweets, what your favorite food and color were, and that you couldn't sleep without turning off the lights. But then he realized...

"Does it have to be a snowman?" he asked, his eyes fixed on how skillfully you handled the hooks.

"Mm-hmm! It does."

"Why do you like it so much anyway?"

"Ah..." Your movements paused slightly, and you suddenly looked down, a hint of sheepishness in your expression. "Well..."

This way, you looked adorable somehow. Zayne squeezed you gently. "Hmm?"

"You might not remember it... but the first time we met..." you felt heat creeping up to your face but pressed on nonetheless. "I asked you to demonstrate your Evol and you showed me by creating a snowman out of thin air."

Right at that moment, Zayne could've sworn that his heart skipped a beat. That meeting... how many years ago was it? Five? Six?

He could barely remember it until you mentioned it, and yet you held that memory dear.

"Maybe it sounds stupid to you," you puffed out your cheeks. "But I think you’re similar to a snowman. You look cold on the outside, but you bring happiness to so many people. You save lives…"

The way you described him so highly made him flutter inside. Suddenly he felt soft. Soft for you. You were utterly precious, genuine and all this time, he hadn't even truly realized it.

"And to me, you..." you gulped, suddenly self-conscious. "You are... warm, just like the sun..."

The sincerity in your words touched him so deeply that it left him speechless. You had loved him and it was evident in all your actions.

Now the question is, has he done the same for you?

You brightened his life just by being yourself. Most of the time cheery, sometimes snarky, and often times decidedly spoiled... all those sides of you—

He adores them all. And he knows he'll treasure you until the end of time. And now, he's going to show you that.

Before he realized it, he had planted a kiss on the nape of your neck, and you sucked in a breath as you dropped the crochet hooks. "Zayne...?"

And then his lips pressed harder, trailing kisses along your neck, while his hands slipped inside your pajama top, caressing your skin ever so gently. The unexpected touch made you unwittingly moan.

"Can you... finish crocheting another day?" he breathed in your ear, cupping your breasts tenderly, and you almost jolted. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

It felt as if your face had caught fire, your whole body flushing with sudden excitement. Your heart raced wildly at his husky voice, and the very thought that your husband desired you was deeply thrilling.

"But you..." your voice hitched, trying not focus on his fingers. "...are never gentle."

Zayne blinked at you in surprise. "Am... I? That's not true."

"Should I jog your memory?" You pursed your lips. "One time, you threw me on the bed—"

"Well—"

"And that time you had me on all fours—"

"That's—"

"And the night we conceived this baby too—"

"Right. Alright." Zayne’s cheeks flushed with warmth as he released his grip on your mounds. "You might have a point, but this time, I assure you…"

He turned you to face him, and before you could even react, he leaned in close, his breath tickling your collarbone as he whispered:

"I will take good care of you tonight."

He made good on his promise.

This time, his hands moved with a gentleness that took your breath away. Zayne started with peppering your skin in soft, lingering kisses—starting at your jaw, then trailing down your neck, collarbone, and chest.

And when his lips finally reached the slightly visible but firm swell of your belly, he paused, pressing a kiss there that seemed to hold all the love he had for your baby.

The sight pulled at your heartstrings. The very fact that Zayne cherished this little life growing inside you filled you with a happiness so profound, it nearly overwhelmed you.

And soon...

"Ahh... aah!" you writhed, arching your back, your lower body laid bare as his tongue lapped eagerly at your folds. It was, by far, the most erotic thing your husband had done to you— he usually didn’t spend this much time for your pleasure.

But as always, he was not much of a talker during sex. Only dangerous gleam in his eyes as he glanced up from between your trembling thighs that let you know he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

"Ngh!" You gasped when the tight ball of nerves inside you finally burst, mewling helplessly as you yanked on his hair, and he ate you out even more greedily in response. You had always known it, but moments like this made it undeniable—

Zayne turns completely into a different man while bedding you. Who would have guessed that the stoic, straight-laced head of cardiac surgery could be reduced to a man consumed by lust at the sight of his wife's body?

. . .

He had always liked having you on top. This time, Zayne made sure to prepare you exceptionally well before easing himself inside you, yet, just like every other time, you still felt impossibly tight around him.

“Ah, ah... I-I’m—!” you whimpered tearfully, your walls clenching around his girth, face overtaken by sheer pleasure. “’s full...”

It didn't take him long to bust, really. With a beautiful wife sitting on top of him, eliciting sounds like that... how could he resist?

But maybe he pushed you too hard. Lust won against all his senses as he relentlessly slammed his hips against yours, and he distinctly felt the moment you stifled a scream and came hard around him.

"Are you... alright?" Zayne asked in a groan as he reached his orgasm, his release flooding inside your womb in a rush as you clung into him tightly, shuddering and spasming.

You nodded and collapsed against him, savoring the feeling of how filled up you were. In return, he cradled you close as he slowly pulled out of you. "I-I... am..."

You curled into him, and he pressed a tender kiss on your head. In that moment, you truly felt that there were only two of you in this vast world.

Gently, he lifted you—one arm supporting your legs, the other around your back—and carried you to the bathroom to clean you up.

. . .

“Drink.” Zayne held the cool glass of water to your lips, and you obediently took a sip, your gaze lingering on the gap in his bathrobe where his chest peeked out.

He was so, so considerate. He carefully handled you as he washed your body and wrapped you in the bathrobe earlier, soothing you each time you let out a whine.

It was the most comforting aftercare you had experienced. After making sure you weren’t parched, he tucked you under the comforters, joining you soon after and pulling you close.

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly, straightening your hair.

“Mm-hmm.” You snuggled closer with a smile, tracing a finger along his chest.

Somehow the way he cared for you now made you remember how your relationship was back then. He didn’t dote on you this much, he was good to you but you knew deep in your hearts that he wasn’t really there. But now…

He is yours. In every sense.

“You’re tickling me,” Zayne tutted gruffly, catching your hand and pressing it to his chest.

“So? What will you do?” you teased with a playful grin. “Will you eat me up again?”

“…” His narrowed eyes made you giggle, and you pressed yourself even closer, relishing the afterglow.

You had promised yourself not to bring it up again, but feeling vulnerable in this moment, you couldn’t help but whisper:

“You… have changed,” you muttered under your breath. “Thank you… for thinking of me.”

You couldn’t see his expression, but his arms tightened around you suddenly. Warmth spread through you, feeling as though he were shielding you from the world itself.

Weeks passed by, and soon enough, you reached the middle of your second trimester.

“We’re going to find out the gender today!” you excitedly noted in the passenger’s seat. Zayne glanced at you with a smile, silently looking forward to it too.

He was relieved that your first trimester had passed smoothly, with only a few bouts of sickness. Now, before he knew it, you were already halfway through the journey.

“If it’s a girl, I hope she won’t be a troublemaker like her mom,” he slyly retorted.

You shot him a glare. “And if it’s a boy, I’ll make sure he doesn’t spend all his time studying and turn into a robot like you.”

The journey to fatherhood still didn’t feel entirely real to him with your chirpy self, but as your belly swelled and rounded with each passing week, he began to realize that the day was quickly approaching.

It made him feel warm, and he wished he could show it to you better just how much happiness you brought to him now.

You rummaged through your bag and exclaimed, "Oh, I forgot the appointment card!"

Zayne sighed, turning the steering wheel with a small shake of his head. "See? The little mom can be so scatterbrained at times."

You slouched in your seat, crestfallen. "Sorry..."

"It’s alright," he gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he noticed your expression drop. "I’ll get it. Where did you leave it?"

"In the first drawer of my vanity desk, I think…"

After arriving back at home, Zayne headed straight to your shared bedroom and searched through your drawers. The first drawer only had your perfumes, so he moved on to the second drawer, which apparently only had more makeup supplies.

And so, he pulled the third drawer, and there were a stack of envelopes there. Curious, he pulled one out, thinking it was the card he was looking for—

—but then, suddenly, he was in a state of shock. Never would have he expected to find what he had on his hand then.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to blur, his entire world reduced to those three stark words on the page. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, a heavy weight settling in his stomach as the realization hit him.

Petition of Divorce — and your signature... was there.

Something seemed a bit off about Zayne, you noticed later that day.

You were really looking forward to finding out the baby's gender, and you thought he was too. He stood by your side all the while, holding your hand as the ultrasound probe pressed against your skin and you waited with bated breath for Dr. Munson to announce—

“Well, it’s a girl!” he declared with a wide grin. “Whoa, Dr. Zayne is going to be a girl dad, huh?”

“Oh my…” Your eyes sparkled with joy at the news. You were fine with either, but you knew Zayne had secretly been hoping for a girl, and you turned to him with pure elation. However...

“That’s… good.” His response was brief, and although he was smiling, something felt off. You had been observing him for too long not to notice—you knew when your husband was distracted.

What is he thinking? Despite yourself, you began to worry.

“Zayne?” you asked later, holding his arm as you both exited Dr. Munson’s office. “Are you thinking about work?”

He turned to you almost immediately. “No.”

“Then why are you frowning?” you asked innocently, trying to lighten the mood by touching his face. He swiftly caught your hand.

“This is a public place,” he said in a strained voice, causing you to stiffen at his tone. “I’ll take you home first.”

Something was not right. Now you were convinced and it started to bother you.

“Actually… I need to go to the Hunter Association's base first to finish my deskwork,” you said.

His brows furrowed even deeper. “Can’t you just submit your leave?”

“Ah... I’m on half-day leave today. I need to wrap up as much as I can before I go on maternity leave later.”

“Next time,” he snapped, his gray eyes locked on you, “Whenever you have appointments, take a full-day leave. You’re in no condition to be working, especially as you get further along.”

"Zayne, are you... upset with me?" you fired the question then, because it seemed like he really did, and suddenly you felt a bit sick at the very thought.

He was certainly not expecting you to ask that, and for a moment, Zayne froze, before he exhaled and his frown softened a bit.

“…no,” he finally said, his tone gentler. “I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

But ever since that day, you knew something had happened to him that he suddenly he became a little distant towards you.

. . .

Zayne hadn’t meant to snap at you. If anything, knowing you were carrying a baby girl filled him with unbridled happiness.

But still, there was still a part of him that wanted to demand answers from you—that part of him that was deeply hurt by what he discovered.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t take it too hard. No matter how much he reflected on it, he knew he hadn’t been the husband you deserved. He knew his faults and understood how much he had hurt you. From the very beginning, you deserved someone who would see only you and no one else—and he hadn't been that person before.

Even with that understanding, he was left with an unresolved hollowness. You had doubted him enough that you were ready to file for a divorce once. It didn't mean that the same thing wouldn't happen in the future.

Does he have it in him to make you happy? He had promised you he would. While he wasn't the most affectionate, he tried his best, and he intended to keep trying.

But now, after learning this, he found that not only you, but even he too was able to doubt himself.

"Zayne...?"

You peeked your head inside his study one night, several weeks later, a hand resting on your bump. You really didn't want to bother him when he just arrived, but you figured you had to tell him.

For the past week, you’d been throwing up, and it didn’t feel right. He had been at a symposium in another city since the start of the week, and you tried to wait it out. But today, you almost blacked out, and now you were genuinely afraid.

"Y/N?" he turned to you just as he laid his briefcase and the moment he saw you, he frowned at how pale you looked.

Zayne immediately stalked towards you and pulled you closer, feeling your neck to check your body temperature. His eyes widened in realization. "You have a fever."

"I-I... feel lightheaded today," you sputtered, clutching his arm. "And... I’ve been vomiting too..."

"I'll get you checked in at Akso," he decided, grabbing the car keys and led you out of the room by the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me in your calls?"

Very lame excuse, but you tried to defend yourself nonetheless. "It wasn't this severe before—"

"You should have told me." His response was curt, but his fury was evident. You almost shrank at his tone, but Zayne didn't reprimand you further as he helped you into the passenger seat.

The drive was tense and uncomfortable, making you feel even worse. The silence only amplified your anxiety, and it didn't help that you had noticed how distant he was lately.

"I'm sorry—" you blurted but then suddenly, you sucked in a breath, wincing and fisting your dress when you felt the start of a cramp just below your ribs. "Ahh..."

Zayne’s panic surged at your pained gasp. He gripped your hand reassuringly, all trace of anger vanishing instantly. "We’ll arrive soon. I promise you’ll be alright."

At that moment, despite all fears you had—for your baby, of his sudden shift of behavior—you held back your sob and squeezed his hand in return.

. . .

You would be staying at the hospital until all the test results came in.

Zayne sat on the chair beside you, gaze fixed on you as you lay connected to an IV drip in the private room. Though he tried to mask it, he was still shaken. He knew better than anyone that fever and cramps at more than 20 weeks often signaled something was wrong with either the mother or the baby.

The thought of ailments beyond his control affecting either of you made his chest tighten. He loosened his tie and let out a sigh, trying to ease the constriction. "How do you feel now?"

You looked at him, managing a smile as you replied, "I’m fine now."

Seeing you bedridden like this was something he hadn’t realized he dreaded until that moment, and yet, there you were, smiling. You... smiled.

He couldn’t understand why the sight he usually adored suddenly stirred this swirling anger in him.

Your answer seemed to hit a nerve in him as his expression darkened, and anxiety struck you again, twisting something in your gut. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before..."

His lack of response only deepened your unease. "Before today, I didn’t feel faint at all, so I think it’s just something I ate."

He still didn't deign you with any answer. Zayne’s apparent disregard for your words frustrated you, bringing you close to tears. "Say something..." you urged, feeling the tears burn behind your eyes. "I know you're upset, but now I'm scared too."

You really wanted him to comfort you. You knew the Zayne from several weeks ago would do just that, but now you had a feeling that the man before you now wasn't that same man any longer.

"We’ll see when the results are ready," he said then, facing you with a stoic, matter-of-fact tone, as if he were delivering a diagnosis to a patient rather than speaking to his wife. "Don’t fret too much. Have some rest."

Is that... all he has to say to you? A part of your heart withered at his detached response, the tears frozen in your eyes. What happened to him?

You were about to confront him for an answer when his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

"Hello? Yes, it's Zayne. Who is this?" he questioned flatly, eyes narrowed into a dissatisfied frown, before suddenly his expression lit up with understanding when the person on the other line introduced themselves.

You could hear the faint sound of a man's voice from his phone. And when Zayne addressed him, a sudden chill spread throughout your body.

"Caleb? It's... been a while."

You felt cold. Caleb. You never really knew him but you had certainly seen him. Once at a funeral, and once at your wedding. He too is Zayne's childhood friend, and more than that, he is the brother of—

Why? Why did all emotional suffering you had to go through, somehow or another, always come down to a dead woman who was once your husband's lover?

When he ended this call, you didn't even pretend to be considerate anymore. "What does he want from you?"

Zayne looked taken aback by your sudden hostility but answered calmly, "He’s in Linkon now and asked if we could meet."

"Must you really see him?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I don’t like it," you spat, venom clear in your voice, turning to him. "I don’t like it at all when you have to be involved with people related to her!"

Finally, you said it. You had never made it clear before, but this time, you felt like you were entitled enough to. You were having his daughter, and if he was still entangled in an illusion of his past girlfriend with you, then—

Zayne responded to your outburst with a suppressed sigh, visibly keeping his frustration in check. "He is an old friend, Y/N. You're too emotional right now that you jump into conclusions and stress yourself out."

He was right, your emotions were spiraling, but right now you were too heartbroken to care for it.

"Do you know what I fear the most?" you asked, tears shining in your eyes. At last, you voiced the dark, unspoken curse that had haunted you since the very beginning of it all:

"I’m afraid that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that either me or our baby is a mistake."

Zayne barely got any rest that night.

In the end, faced with your tears, he didn't respond because he didn't want to prolong the argument. More strain for you could put both you and the baby at risk.

Later, he told himself. No matter how much he berated himself for not noticing the signs of your illness sooner, or wanted show you that you and his unborn child meant everything to him now— later. He wouldn't risk you, and it would be better if you talk later with cooler heads.

Little did he know, that "later" would never come.

Numerous missed phone calls from the nurses station after he stepped out of the operating room sealed your fate. And when Greyson burst into his office, out of breath and panic-stricken, it was like being doused in scalding water.

"Dr. Zayne! Miss Y/N! Sh-she has just been rushed to ER for severe bleeding!"

Just like that, his world crashed and shattered beyond return.

. . .

"Dr. Zayne, I'm not sure how I should break this news to you... As a medical professional, you already know how serious this condition is..."

Everything was his greatest nightmare realized. Dr. Munson’s diagnosis struck him with a searing force, paralyzing him on the spot.

"Your wife has preeclampsia."

The nurses said you had been screaming and bleeding heavily. He too had seen it himself—the blood splattered across the pristine floor when he arrived, just moments after you were rushed to the emergency room—and the sight made a chill run through his spine in horror.

"She just experienced a partial placental abruption because of it. This causes bleeding in the mother, and also increases the risk of premature labor."

Dr. Munson’s explanation was crystal clear, yet it sent Zayne into a daze. It felt as if his chest had been ripped open, leaving him hollow as he stared numbly at your figure, peacefully asleep after the emergency treatment you had been put through.

Zayne clasped your hand in his, feeling the invincible knife lodged in his heart twist painfully.

You aren't supposed to be this cold. He gently griped your hand, his face contorted with agony. How terrified must you have been? How much did it hurt? Despite trying to push the memories away, seeing you like this brought back the nightmare from three years ago.

Only that this time, it was you. And not just you, but his unborn child as well. Both of you... there was a chance that both of you wouldn't survive.

The sheer thought made him stagger, because no, if it was the devil’s way to punish him, then it was beyond cruel. He had failed you once already, and he knew what happiness was by being with you, and to lose all of that in one blow—

"Zayne! Can you make me one more snowman?" you pleaded, your eyes sparkling as you pointed to the little gap between snowmen already perched on the window. "Just one more! It’ll make the line perfect!"

"I’m afraid that one day, you’ll wake up and realize that either me or our baby is a mistake."

It was so, so painful. His chest constricted at the contrasting memories and it took everything he had not to give in to his spiraling fears.

With everything I have, I love you. None of it mattered anymore. The divorce papers, whether he could make you happy— what was important was that It was unthinkable to lose you now. He would trade his life if it meant sparing you, because the pain of losing you would destroy him.

You had always loved that little thing he made on a whim. He opened your palm and shaped the ice through his manipulation, placing the palm-sized snowman in your grasp, hoping it would protect you throughout the night.

You remembered the excruciating pain, the primal dread of losing your baby, and the horrifying sight of crimson streaming endlessly between your legs, also how you screamed for anyone for help.

When you regained consciousness, the scent of fresh linen and alcohol was the first thing that greeted you. Dawn had already arrived, but the sky outside remained dark.

Your right palm felt cold, and that’s when you realized you were holding something. At the same time, you noticed the weight in your other hand—

Zayne. Your husband slept on the edge of your bed in such an uncomfortable position while holding your hand, his brows taut into a frown, only with a coat to cover himself.

He is here. You quietly watched him, and despite everything, you realized once again how much you loved him—even more that he was here for you.

Snowman… you stared at the little toy in your other hand, and overwhelming warmth washed over you at the thought of him creating it for you just before he slept.

The baby… what did you go through? Is she fine? You really couldn’t shake the feeling that something grave had happened to you.

You had to know. You pulled your left hand out of his grasp and caressed his face. He has to shave soon, you noted, feeling the stubble that had started to grow there. Still, you couldn't help but marvel at how handsome he was.

Your gentle touch soon caused his eyes to flutter open, and Zayne jerked awake, instinctively catching your hand. "You're awake..." he rasped, his voice rough with exhaustion.

He looked at you as if he was in disbelief, and immediately rose and squeezed your hand. You looked up to him, feebly asking, "What... happened to me?"

His face fell right that moment but you pressed on, "Tell me. I have to know..."

Zayne's reluctance was obvious, but the plea in your voice made him waver. Finally, he sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed.

"The test results have come back," he began, his voice adopting the clinical tone you recognized from when he spoke to his patients. "Your blood pressure is abnormally high, and there was protein found in your urine sample... These are signs of a condition called preeclampsia."

Shock marred your features in that moment, because you had heard what it was and what it meant for your baby.

"The only cure for preeclampsia is delivery. And at the same time the placenta has detached from the wall of your womb. This way, our baby—"

You had watched Zayne deliver devastating diagnoses to his patients before, and he was always steadfast. But this time, even his voice wavered.

His gray eyes seemed to glisten under the light as they held your gaze. "She's being deprived of oxygen and nutrients because the placenta can no longer supply them. You may also experience heavier bleeding, more cramps, and fetal distress. The best course of action now is to deliver the baby as soon as possible."

It felt like receiving death sentence. No matter how you looked at it, the conclusion was the same. "B-but..." you stammered, your whole body trembling, shaken by the enormity of it all. "S-she's just... barely twenty-six weeks..."

The way devastation bled in your voice pierced him. Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his arms, letting out a long, drawn-out breath as he held you close.

"I'm here," he assured, trying to console you. "You don't have to be scared. We'll monitor you closely until it's possible for you to give birth to the baby in around thirty weeks. I'll make sure of that."

The first of your sobs began. "...i-is it me?" you clutched at his coat mournfully. "Did I… p-put the baby into distress somehow— that it causes the placenta to fall away?"

"No," he firmly shushed you. "It's a condition that can flare up anytime. Don't blame yourself for it."

Still, how could you not? More than yourself, you feared for your unborn child. You sobbed harder, and Zayne held you even as his coat had started to dampen from your tears.

Your predicament broke his heart too, but at the same time, he found the perfect moment to finally show you the entirety of his heart.

"You told me you were afraid I'd come to see both of you as a mistake," he murmured, gently running his hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. "But how can our daughter be a mistake when—" his voice caught, choking on the words, "—when I've loved her so much already?"

The strain in his voice made you look up, and you were taken aback by the intensity of his gray eyes that bored into you.

“Both of you... are so precious to me.” Zayne locked his eyes with yours, sincerely meaning everything he said as he cradled the side of your face. “The thought that anything might happen to either of you... is unbearable.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice hoarse, “What if… you continue to bleed and it leads to seizures? What if— you and the baby won’t make it? These are so unbearable for me.”

His words went straight into you, and for a moment, your tears receded as they sank in.

"I can’t give you my past." His voice tinged with melancholy, the expression on his face was torn. "But I promise you, at least in this lifetime..."

He gazed at you with the unwavering look you had fallen in love with, the same gaze you once admired from afar, long ago.

And then, his next declaration took your breath away and made your heart soar like never before. A wave of love surged within you, almost overwhelming you—

"Right this moment and my future—it's for you. For both of you, always."

From that moment on, you knew you would trust him completely. From that moment on, you finally let go of your doubts, knowing that you had nothing to fear with him by your side.

Zayne was by your side whenever he was able to.

You were on bedrest at the hospital ever since, but he always stayed the night here to accompany you, barely going back to home for a change of clothes.

"You’re really making a snowman..." he remarked, observing your fingers and the crochet hooks he’d brought from home so you could keep yourself entertained. "I think you need to add a bit more fluff there..."

Your face brightened with a grin as you cut the yarn. "Don’t worry, I’ll make it extra round."

The weeks in the hospital dragged on, but they also gave you more time to work on your amigurumi. When you finished putting the final touches on it, you proudly presented it to Zayne—the snowman with a blue shawl and black hat, two little round eyes, and a beaming line of smile. "Ta-da! Look, it’s even cuter than the ones you made!"

A happy you was always the sight he loved to see above all. "Yeah..."

"Do you think she'll love it?" you suddenly asked, poking the snowman doll you just made, feeling warm at the thought that your cherished baby will soon play with it too.

You looked so endearing that Zayne felt an overwhelming urge to pull you closer. “She will,” he chuckled, giving you a reassuring pat on the head. “Didn’t you say before she will?”

And soon, you reached the thirtieth-week mark. The time had come to finally deliver your baby.

. . .

"I can't feel anything..." Your voice came out as a soft whine while you lay on the operating table, your lower body numb and obscured by the surgical curtain shielding you from view.

Zayne, standing beside you in a mask and headcap, grasped your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. "If you could feel it, you’d be screaming."

The C-section was the only way to ensure both you and your daughter would survive. It felt surreal to know they were basically cutting you open, yet you were unable to feel anything.

"Will... she come out healthy?" you asked your husband hesitantly, worried about your soon-to-be born baby. "I'm worried..."

Zayne glanced at you and gave your hand a light squeeze. "Don’t worry too much. You should be more concerned about yourself. Think of all the food you want to have when you get home, and I’ll get it for you."

You shot him a glare. "You make me sound like a foodie."

"You are a foodie."

Despite the ongoing surgery, Zayne’s lighthearted jabs were his way of easing your anxiety. Even though they irked you, you appreciated his attempts to lift your spirits.

And soon—

You heard a feeble cry, though quickly drowned out by the cheers of the surgical team beyond the curtain. You gasped and turned to Zayne, who was fixated on the tiny baby in Dr. Munson's hands.

He didn't even blink. It was almost as if he was spellbound by the sight. Nothing mattered because his daughter was here. Really here.

"Zayne…" your voice then broke the spell. He turned to you, who weakly smiled at him with tears in your eyes.

For the first time in your life, you saw tears of happiness glistening in his eyes as he stared at you— the woman who had just given him a daughter to love and dote on.

He immediately leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead. Your heart felt so full, even though he wasn’t able to fully express it in words. In that moment, you could feel his profound love for you and the new life you would embark on together.

"She is so small..."

You pressed yourself as close as you could to the see-through glass of the neonatal unit, straining to get a glimpse of your baby daughter. Though you weren't well enough to walk three days after the surgery, you insisted on Zayne wheeling you over in a wheelchair just so you could have a peek.

"She’ll grow big soon," Zayne said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder when he noticed your sadness. "She’ll stay there for a few more weeks, and then we can bring her home."

However, your expression twisted into a worried frown as you watched the gentle rise and fall of your baby’s tiny chest inside the incubator. Even when he had reassured you that it was by all means just an unfortunate condition, you couldn't help feeling that it was your fault somehow that she ended up there.

She had his tufts of black hair, but you weren’t able to get close enough to remember her face clearly. The fact that you hadn’t held her in your arms yet made your heart ache.

"Mommy is sorry that she can't carry you to full-term..." you croaked out, lips wobbling, a hand tracing the glass separating you from your new baby, and Zayne inhaled sharply at the sight.

It hadn’t been easy, but you had made it through. Both of you had. And to him, that was more than enough. So, you needed to hear it too.

He crouched down in front of you, catching your attention instantly. You tilted your head as his hands rested gently on your shoulders.

“Thank you for delivering our daughter safely,” he said with the softest of smiles, ever so genuine just as you were in all times of the two of you together.

Your eyes widened a bit at his sudden gratitude, and when he took both of your hands together in his, gazed at you with such earnestness in his clear ash-grey eyes, and traced his thumbs over your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat.

“And most of all, thank you... for being safe too.”

Those words brought immense warmth to you, and the prettiest of smile lit up your face then at the way he looked at you as if you were his most prized treasure. Just like that, once again, he cast all your fears and doubts aside.

And deep down, you knew that with him by your side, everything was going to be alright.

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[iydiamartinx]

THE TODD-LER PROBLEM

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader ft. batfam

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 2.9k synopsis: Jason gets hit with a magical regression spell during a mission and ends up… five years old. Still foul-mouthed. Still somehow armed. a/n: Don't ask me how or why I wrote this, it just happened... warning: This is utterly unhinged, its a crack fic

There were many things you expected when you opened your apartment door at 3 a.m.

Your boyfriend, Jason Todd, in full gear. Shrunken to approximately three feet tall. And trying to pick your lock with a paperclip. was not one of them.

You blinked once. Twice. “…Jason?”

The tiny figure looked up, scowling, with his tiny leather jacket zipped to the chin and a modified red helmet under one arm. His helmet was clearly a custom fit because you were almost certain someone on the team had taken the time to resize his gear. Probably Tim. Or Alfred. Or Jason even himself after he’d been cursed into a fun-sized menace.

He tilted his head. “Took you long enough.”

You stared. “You’re three feet tall.”

“Yeah?” he snapped, voice high-pitched but filled with all the rage of a war vet denied his nap. “Well you’re late I've been knockin' forever! an’ I’m cold, and some guy in a sparkly cape turned me into a—” he waved a tiny hand wildly— “a frickin’ gremlin!”

You stared in mild horror.

“I mean child!” he corrected, stomping past your legs and into your apartment like he owned it. “A frickin’ child. I have to use a stool to pee. I’m livin’ in hell.”

“Excuse me—”

He pushed past your legs like an angry little linebacker. “Also, someone tried to feed me carrots at the manor. Carrots. Like I’m a damn rabbit. I had to escape.”

“Jason, are you seriously—”

“—And Alfred was this close to making me take a bubble bath.”

You raised a brow. “You love bubble baths.”

“Adult me loves them. Toddler me has dignity.”

You shut the door with a sigh, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. “Fine. One night. But if you pee on anything, I’m calling Bruce.”

30 MINUTES IN...

You stared at the miniature version of Jason Todd standing dead center in your apartment. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact he was now a child.

He stood with his arms crossed. Eyebrows furrowed. Scowling so hard his little nose scrunched up. The resized red helmet was sitting crookedly on his head, and somehow, somehow, he was still wearing a tiny leather jacket like it was battle armor.

“Jason,” you said slowly, kneeling down to his eye level, “where did you get the gun?”

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously smug. “Trade secret.”

“Jason.”

He pouted. “You left your sock drawer unlocked.”

You blinked. “My sock drawer doesn’t have—”

Realization dawned.

You groaned, standing up and rubbing your face. “You hid weapons in my sock drawer?”

“Of course I did,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What if you got mugged doing laundry?”

You turned on your heel, already pulling out your phone. “Zatanna needs to reverse this spell immediately. How is his five year old self more dangerous than his adult one.” You muttered to yourself. 

From behind you, Jason stomped his tiny boot. “I am not five! I’m five-and-a-half!”

You didn’t even look back. You just sighed and started texting Alfred for backup.

And possibly restraints.

Or duct tape.

Maybe both.

ONE HOUR IN...

You found him in the kitchen standing on the counter—barefoot, wild-haired, and determined. His tiny arms were stretched high above his head, fingers pawing at the top shelf with the sheer willpower of someone who believed they could reach it if they just tried hard enough.

“What,” you asked slowly, “are you doing?”

“I want Oreos,” he said, like it was obvious.

“There are Goldfish crackers right there,” you offered, gesturing to the open box on the counter beside him.

He looked at you like you’d insulted his ancestors. “I’m not a toddler. I have standards.”

He took them with both hands, giving you a small, pointed sniff of derision—as if your earlier suggestion of Goldfish had been not just offensive, but a personally insult.

Then, without another word, he hopped off the counter and disappeared down the hallway like a sugar-fueled cryptid preparing for war.

TWO HOURS IN...

You finally managed to corral him in front of the television, queued up some harmless cartoon with talking animals, and tiptoed into the kitchen to make yourself a much-needed snack.

When you came back, the cartoon was gone and you found him watching John Wick 3 with unblinking intensity.

You stared in horror. “You are not allowed to watch this.”

He didn’t flinch. “Too late.”

You snatched the remote from the armrest. “You’re five.”

“Five an’ a half!” he shouted, voice pitching up in outrage. “An’ I know all ‘bout vengeance! I lived it! Lemme watch Keanu!”

“No.”

“I will bite you.”

“You already did!”

He smiled. “And I’d do it again.”

You lunged for the remote.

He let out a feral shriek. The sound pierced the air like a banshee’s war cry. There was a flurry of motion, limbs, and one elbow jabbed directly into your ribcage. The remote went flying.

Somehow… you lost.

And there he was, not ten minutes later, curled in a blanket like a smug little gremlin, happily finishing John Wick 3.

You sighed, already pulling out your phone to call in reinforcements.

Alfred picked up on the first ring.

“Please tell me patrol is over,” you whispered, glancing warily toward the living room. “I need backup. Immediate. Preferably armed with sedatives and maybe a priest.”

There was the soft clink of a teacup on saucer before Alfred replied, calm as ever. “Master Grayson and Master Drake should be available in a few hours.”

You groan, “Anyone sooner?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” He said.

You hung up and returned to the living room.

Jason was kicking his feet now, reclined like royalty, humming the John Wick fight music under his breath. Every few seconds he’d mutter something like “yeah, get him, Keanu,” or “double tap, baby,” as if he were part of the director’s commentary.

By the time 300 started, he had risen.

He stood on the couch with all the solemnity of a war general addressing his troops, fists clenched at his sides. Then, with zero warning, he let out a piercing battle cry—“SPARTAAAAAA!”—and began hurling Goldfish crackers across the room like they were flaming javelins.

You didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You just slid slowly down the wall, sat on the floor beside the fridge, and accepted your fate.

THREE HOURS IN...

You were gone for five minutes.

Five.

You’d left him watching Love Island.

He’d finally—finally—fallen asleep, sprawled across the couch. The soft drone of British contestants filled the apartment, and for a precious, fragile moment, there was peace.

Just enough to sneak off for five minutes. That was all the time it took to use the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face in the vain hope that you could survive another hour of this gremlin-sized Gotham menace.

When you returned, Love Island was still playing on the TV and Jason was nowhere in the living room. 

“Jason?” you called out.

You heard a noise come from the kitchen

Your stomach dropped.

You rushed in, skidding to a halt just inside the doorway.

The drawer was open.

That drawer.

The one that held the scissors.

The duct tape.

Your spare burner phone.

And, apparently, your last shred of peace.

You turned around slowly—already feeling the weight of regret in your bones.

Tiny Jason stood proudly in your hallway wearing a cardboard chest plate, duct-taped shoulder pads, and your colander on his head.

He raised a wooden spoon like a sword. “I’m Red Hood 2.0,” he declared in a voice that was both too high-pitched and far too serious. “Call me… Lil’ Death.”

You stared at him in exhausted horror.

“…Where’s the rest of the duct tape?”

He gave a wide, toothy grin.

“In mah hair.”

Of course it was.

FOUR HOURS IN...

Alfred had finally sent backup.

It was Damian.

By that point, you didn’t care—anything to give you ten minutes of silence and the chance to remember what breathing felt like.

And for the first ten minutes, it was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

You froze in the hallway, a familiar sense of foreboding slithering down your spine.

Then came the scream.

“YOU LITTLE DEVIL!”

Tiny battle cries echoed from the living room, followed by the unmistakable clang of steel meeting something very much not steel.

You ran in to find Damian standing on your coffee table, sword in hand, while Toddler Jason swung at his legs with a plastic baseball bat wrapped in duct tape and thumbtacks.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

“He challenged me,” Damian snapped, breath steady as he parried a wild swing with the flat of his blade.

Jason bared his baby teeth, eyes gleaming with chaotic glee. “He tried to steal my Oreos and called me a baby!”

“Because you are,” Damian barked, deflecting another spoon-wrapped strike. “This is undignified!”

“I’m a toddler, you rich goblin!”

You slapped a hand to your forehead. “Jason, drop the bat.”

“NEVER!”

“Damian, he’s five!”

FIVE HOURS IN...

Damian was still on the windowsill, arms crossed, radiating hatred like a heat lamp.

He hadn’t spoken in nearly an hour. Not a single word since the incident—the one where he lost to a sugar-crazed toddler wielding a thumbtack-wrapped baseball bat and unyielding vengeance.

You knew that silence. Knew it too well.

He was plotting something. You just didn’t know what.

Not that you had time to dwell on it—because that was when backup number two finally arrived.

The door swung open and in walked Dick and Tim, both dressed down but wide-eyed, scanning the wreckage of your apartment like first responders to a war zone.

Jason—still pint-sized, still radiating the unholy combination of espresso and anarchy—lit up like a demonic Christmas tree at the sight of them.

“Well, well, look who finally showed up,” he chirped, spinning once in his little leather jacket and cardboard armour. “The Backstreet Boys of Disappointment!”

Dick froze mid-step. “I—what?”

Tim looked at you with the tiredness of a man who’d seen too much. “Is he still feral?”

“Worse,” you muttered. “He’s refueled. He ate three cookies and found my instant espresso jar.”

Dick’s eyes widened. “You gave him caffeine?!”

“I didn’t give him anything! He’s a damn toddler who still retained his lock picking skills!”

Across the room, Jason twirled dramatically and pointed at Tim. “Timmy,” he sing-songed, “wanna play hide and seek? I’ll hide… you seek therapy.”

Tim blinked slowly. “You’ve created a monster.”

You pointed at him with your coffee. “He was with you all when this happened.”

Jason pivoted toward Dick, eyes glinting. “Hey, Disco. How’s that permanent sidekick gig goin’? Still doin’ flips no one asked for?”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “You wanna go, tiny man?”

Jason smirked. “Bring it, Jazz Hands.”

And that’s all it took.

Two minutes later

Jason darted between them like a pinball on fire.

Tim lunged with a blanket like he was trying to trap a wild animal. Jason bit straight through it.

Not metaphorically—actually bit through it.

Dick went in next, trying to cut him off with a broad lunge, but Jason hurled a half-full sippy cup at his face with terrifying accuracy. It burst on contact. Sticky apple juice everywhere.

From the windowsill, Damian observed the descent into madness with narrowed eyes and smug silence. Like an evil cat waiting for the moment to pounce.

He chose his moment well.

With a cry of, “FOR HONOR AND BLOOD!” Damian vaulted from the sill into the fray.

He mostly landed on Tim. But the intent was there.

You stood in the doorway, clutching a first aid kit in one hand and your last shred of sanity in the other. It was unclear which would run out first.

Jason popped up from behind the couch like a goblin jack-in-the-box, eyes gleaming with the unholy thrill of chaos. In one hand, he wielded his modified bat like a sword. In the other, a full roll of duct tape, raised like a grenade.

“I DECLARE A BLOOD FEUD!” he roared.

Tim yelped and ducked just as the tape roll whizzed past his head and smacked into the wall with a dull thunk. “He almost took my eye out!”

“WHO GAVE HIM NEGAN’S BAT?!” Dick yelled, backpedaling fast as Jason swung in his direction with surprising force for someone who barely cleared three feet.

“He made it,” Damian grunted, trying to deflect the strike with a throw pillow.

The swing knocked the pillow clean out of his hands.

In the scramble to dodge the next blow, Dick and Damian collided—feet tangled, limbs flailing—and crashed to the floor in a graceless heap.

“WHO’S THE SIDEKICK NOW, SUCKERS?!” he cackled, arms thrown wide like a gladiator demanding cheers from the crowd.

On the floor below him, Damian and Dick groaned in tandem, still tangled in a heap of limbs and wounded pride.

You stood safely behind the armchair, one hand gripping your phone, filming the chaos. Might as well have some blackmail for later.

“You’re going to regret this when you’re big again,” you warned, deadpan. 

“I’LL REGRET NOTHING!” Jason howled, launching himself into Tim’s back like a rabid possum.

Tim shrieked, flailing. “GET HIM OFF! HE’S IN MY HAIR—HE’S IN MY HAIR!”

“He’s like a feral koala,” Dick muttered, as he untangled himself from Damian.

Jason clung tighter, teeth bared, voice giddy with power. “Say sorry for the replacing me and I’ll only ruin your eyebrows!”

“Are we seriously doing this now?” Tim, flailing, shouted, “I didn’t replace you! You died!”

Everything stopped.

For half a second, the air went dead silent.

“TIM!” you and Dick shouted in unison, horrified.

Jason’s response was to let out a piercing shriek of righteous indignation.

“YOU VOTED ME OFF THE ISLAND!”

“WHAT DAMN ISLAND?!”

From the floor, Dick wheezed, “We need to start a support group.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “You’re all weak.”

“I don’t see you winning against him, demon spawn!” Tim barked, still trying to dislodge Jason from his spine. “You surrendered three minutes in!”

“I did not surrender,” Damian snapped.

Tim finally managed to pry him off with a desperate twist and a shove, sending Jason rolling back onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Everyone froze.

Jason huffed, catching his breath where he lay sprawled on the couch. His curls were tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering with unspent mischief. For one brief, shining moment, it almost looked like the storm had passed.

Dick rose to his feet slowly, warily, hands lifted in surrender.

“Okay,” he said, breathless but hopeful. “Can we finally all just… relax—?”

You took a cautious step forward, narrowing your eyes as you noted the look on his face. “Jason. What are you doing now?”

He turned to you slowly, far too slowly, a smile already creeping onto his face.

Dick glanced over, confused, just in time for Jason to pivot on his heel.

“THIS! IS! SPARTAAAAA!!!”

And then his tiny foot shot up and kicked Dick square in the jewels.

Dick dropped like a sack of bricks, letting out a high-pitched strangled wheeze as he crumpled back onto the floor.

“…Who let him watch 300?” Tim groaned, not even pretending to be surprised anymore.

You winced, trying not to look at Dick who was curled into a fetal position.

Jason raised his arms, victorious. “TONIGHT, WE DINE IN—WHAT’S THAT PLACE WITH CHICKY NUGGIES?!”

“…McDonald’s,” Dick croaked weakly from the floor.

Jason nodded solemnly, his reign unquestioned.

“McDonald’s.”

SIX HOURS IN...

You were exhausted.

The apartment looked like a toy store had exploded. There were still thumbtacks embedded in the coffee table, juice stains on the ceiling, and possibly a spoon lodged in the bookshelf. You didn’t want to know.

The others had practically fled—limping, muttering, and swearing.

And Jason? Jason had finally agreed to get ready for bed after a long, drawn-out battle of wills that involved one timeout, two bribes, and exactly ten minutes of him growling about how “Peter Parker wouldn’t last five minutes in Crime Alley.”

Now, he sat on the couch, arms crossed and sulking in a pair of oversized Spider-Man pajamas—the only ones you’d been able to find. His curls were still slightly matted from duct tape, and there was a Band-Aid on his cheek from another brawl he’d got in with Damian.

He glared at you over the rim of his sippy cup.

“This not over,” he mumbled darkly. “I know where you sleep. I’mma get payback.”

“Sure you will, Jason,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“I’ll put ketchup in your shoes.”

You tucked him in on the couch, pulling the blanket around him as he curled up like a tiny, angry cinnamon roll.

He muttered something else under his breath, unintelligible, mostly grumble. “…Night-night,” he muttered, already half-asleep. 

THE NEXT MORNING...

Jason woke up full-sized, shirtless, confused, and sprawled across your couch.

 He blinked up at the ceiling, brow furrowed, throat dry.

“…What the hell?”

You strolled in, far too cheerful for someone who had survived a toddler warlord just a few hours prior. You tossed your phone into his lap.

You strolled in, tossing a phone into his lap.

“Morning, Lil’ Death. I made a slideshow.”

He looked down at the photos. There he was—pouty, covered in crumbs, mid-battle with his brothers, wearing  cardboard chest plate held together with masking tape and colander strapped to his head like a war crown. One had him dead asleep with his face smashed into a pillow, cuddling a stuffed penguin.

Jason groaned into his hands. “Kill me now.”

“I’d rather show Bruce.”

His head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

You grinned. “Wanna bet?”

[thecoochiefairy]

mouthy. onyankapon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble, onyankapon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon,dominant!onyankapon, angry sex, drunk sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ link. link. link. link.

sorry y’all, i been celibate and just want the testosterone of a black man. i beg.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: you come back from the club, mouthy, tipsy and blabbering to your boyfriend. all that talking has onyakanpon give you just what you’re asking for.

STRAWBERRY FLAVORED MARGARITAS ALWAYS MADE YOU HORNY. You made the terrible decision of making that your choice of drink when agreeing to a girls night out, knowing where you really wanted to be— in bed, cuddled up to your man. But you missed your friends, and Onyankapon missed you even more. 

Although you were always together, his weekend routine felt incomplete without you. He had already gone to the gym, got something to eat, and took Cupcake—your American Bully—out for a run. The minute he left you to walk out the house in that fuschia dress, he knew you’d be trouble. The gold jewelry accents as your dark hair fell in crimped waves, the scent of Miss Dior along your throat that he couldn’t pull away from, skimpy heels combating the entire look together—he would have broken someone’s neck behind you. 

As you stumbled into the women’s bathroom, the dark red lights added onto the energy you felt of the song playing within the club—PHAT by Dababy—buzzing your entire body as you wanted to shake ass with your girls. But first, you had to have a little fun. 

You leaned yourself into the full body mirror of the bathroom, bending down as you arched your back into the camera, taking salacious pictures of yourself. They were faceless, only showing the curves of your body in the dress. You sent them to Onyankapon, a small, tipsy grin along your face. 

mama <3 : 

don’t i look pretty?

He was now within the mirror, clippers in his hand as he faded the sides of his head, beard trimmed down as well. You weren’t there to protest the cut, loving when his facial hair was more full, whether it was in between your fingers or deep in your— 

Back to the point, LARGER THAN LIFE by Brent Faiyaz was his current choice of album. He glances down at his phone as he sees the message, eyebrows furrowing. The sight of you under red lighting, filthily posing for the picture. It made him more irritated than anything. 

my ony <3 :

my pretty ass baby. drink some water.

The message back makes you feel a bit deflated. You wanted more. Your mischievous eyes glance around, seeing you were still alone in the bathroom. With that, you latch your fingers onto the top of your dress, pulling down the fabric to have your breasts spill out, nipples hardening from the air. You snap the picture, holding one of your tits in your palm, your brown lined Cupid’s bow lips also within the photo. You press send, sitting along the countertop of the bathroom, awaiting for a response.

Your phone buzzes after five minutes. You look down, seeing only a couple of words. 

my ony <3: 

yeah, aight. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads along your face. With that, you notice that your phone battery is lower than expected, and you know your friends aren’t ready to go home. You sigh, shutting off your phone in risk of it dying, heading back to the section to try to shake off some of this inebriety. 

Onyankapon goes to text you again, but this time it doesn’t seem to go through. It was in your habit for your phone to die, but tonight wasn’t the time. He even went as far as calling you. Straight to voicemail. Of course, your friends weren’t answering either. His eye could’ve twitched.

Getting your key into the door was your current mission hours later. Your phone was buzzing from the amount of missed phone calls as you turned it back on, a giggle stifling from your lips as you continuously shuffled your keys around, desperately trying to find the oversized Hello Kitty one. Your feet ached, heels high and tall as your ankles trembled, wanting nothing more than to be barefoot. 

When your eyes finally register the pink key—assuming you’d touched it a thousand times—you lean against the door as you swing it open, holding yourself up by the bottom of your feet. They felt extremely heavy. You step inside, slowly pushing the door to close, locking it behind you. The LED lights in your condo were a dark purple, blaring to the low beat of the music playing around the walls, PARTYNEXTDOOR accompanying your ears. He’d probably fallen asleep. 

Despite all the noise you’d been making, you try to tip-toe with your heels, realizing that your mission was successful. That’s until you turn your head towards the kitchen, anyways.

You freeze momentarily in your steps, eyes widening. You knew he’d be angry, but you wanted to make a sneaky escape into bed next to him— Alas, your plan had failed miserably and you turned to face him with an innocent smile.

“Ony, baby—Why are you awake?” 

The room seemed to shrink in size because of his imposing figure. It didn't matter how many tattoos covered his muscular body—you would always remember his face card. Strident jawline, dark eyes that gave him the expression of annoyance or solemnity, but the tattoos that decorated his cheek made him stand out amongst men. His brown complexion shimmered under the light, as if he had oil on his skin. 

He just blinks at you, brows furrowing with obvious irritation. You were supposed to be home at ten. It was now two in the morning. He crosses his arms as you could see a vein straining on his neck, also glancing over the lipstick printed ink of your mouth tatted along his throat.  He was pissed.

“And where the fuck has your ass been?”

His silky black durag has a knot tied within the back of his head, shirtless, upper body exposed as his black sweatpants hang on his hips. He’d just woken up after dozing off.

You pout slightly, not liking his attitude. “The girls wanted to be outside longer. I wasn’t driving, so I couldn't tell them no.”

“The girls know you got a crazy ass nigga at home. You could’ve at least picked up my fuckin’ calls.”

“My phone was in my purse,” you try to defend, now walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Did I wake you?” 

Despite his annoyed demeanor, his arms make their way to your waist. He’s gentle, but you could pick up the way his fingers dug into your skin. 

 “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“Cupcake likes to cuddle,” you refer to the large dog, “Don’t be mean to her. She loves you just as much as I do,” you rub his beard, scratching it affectionately. 

He grunts lowly, “Gimme’ your mouth,” you standing on your heels as you give him a peck on the lips. 

You then groan, leaning down as you rub your ankle, “My foot hurts,” you pout, “Ugly bitch at the club stepped on my toes!”

He couldn’t help but soften up at your comments, a gentle hand rubbing at the back of your neck soothingly.

“She stepped on your shit on purpose?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“She gon’ say ‘bitch, move’ when she was all in my way. I didn’t move, so she stepped on my heel. Should’ve busted her fuckin’ head open,” you talk shit about the random girl in the club, “Baby, my feet hurt…” you repeat more softly.

“You gonna go back and fight her?” He poked fun, now lifting you up by your thighs to release the tension off your feet. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, yelping, ‘wee!’ as He carries you to the living room, setting you down on the couch.

“Lemme’ see. I’ll ice your little ass foot.”

“Can you rub it? With the ice? Think they’re red,” you request, carelessly throwing the shoes in opposite directions, feeling the bottom of your feet throbbing even more. 

He hums, “Hollon’, baby,” disappearing into the kitchen as you wait on the couch. Cupcake comes running into the living room, jumping on you immediately. You giggle, hugging her head as she snuggles up against you, having the zoomies as she takes back off into her kennel. 

Ony returned with a bag of ice, leaning down in front of you, placing the ball of your hurting foot in his lap.

“You really couldn’t leave early?” 

You shake your head, “They wanted to hit up the after hours. I said nooo, my man wants me home. They said your man lame, you’ grown! I said, I am! But I miss my man! But ooh, baby, they had lemon drop shots for two dollars! Maybe that’s why I’m so drunk…” you ramble.

He listened attentively to your rambling, tilting his head to the side. He had a small smile on his face, his expression gentle at your drunken blabbering. He loved listening to you talk, even if you were saying nonsense.

“And you bought ‘em? You know you’ a light weight. You can’t handle your liquor, baby.”

“I had water too!” You protest, “But it was too late. I’m not like—super drunk, but because I’m home now, I can just…float,” you say with a hum, tilting your head, “….You’ happy to see me now?”

“Happy as fuck. I was about to go down to that club and shoot that shit up about you. Tryna’ get fucked up in that pretty ass dress, too. I got your pictures.” 

Your slender eyes blink at him, glimmering under the light, “I’m pretty?” You knew the answer, but your floaty mind wanted to hear it anyway. 

“Don’t be playin’ stupid with me.” 

You lean forward, poking your lips out as you sigh, “You’re so sweet. Gimme’ a kiss.” 

He leans forward, placing another soft, slow, kiss on your lips. He pulled back to look at your face, his large hands cupping your jaw, his brown eyes scanning your expression.

“‘Love your non-listening ass. Even when you come home later then I tell you to.”

Your demeanor changes, not liking how he worded that sentence. A reminder, your system was sugar-rushed off of several lemon drops.

“Tell me?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Tell? Don’t be funny, lil’ boy. You ain’t my damn daddy.”

"Lil’ boy?" 

He raises an eyebrow at you, “You’ talking shit?"

“Big shit, actually,” you roll your eyes, pushing away the ice he holds, “I don’t wanna talk to you no more.”

"Yeah? You don't wanna talk to me? Let your fuckin’ feet hurt then.” 

“That’s fine!” 

He becomes slightly agitated from your childish responses, gripping your ankle in his hold to keep you down, “Chill out. You’re still tipsy.” 

“And? I don’t give a fuck about my feet, you, or my mouth. Come shut me the fuck up then, bitch-ass-nigga.”

It’s like you won’t stop talking. Your mouth fires off curses as you attempt to stand from the sofa, wanting to just get out of your clothes. He hears that trigger word, bitch, a word he asked that you never called him. It was the ultimate disrespect. 

He stares you down for a moment. His gaze was intense, intimidating. But there's now a glint of amusement in his eyes, and a humorless chuckle follows.

You go to walk away, but he’s faster. 

He clutches you by the back of your neck as he twists you around, gripping you up as he kisses you, opening up your mouth as he sloppily puts his tongue in. You’re stunned for a moment, hands gripping for his skin, but it’s the alcohol that has the kiss throb in between your legs—You’re spent. 

He pulls back, his hand still on the back of your neck as he presses a kiss under your jaw, before grunting against your ear, “Big ass fuckin’ mouth,” he sharply gruffs, “Come suck some dick. Finna’ shut you the fuck up.” 

His voice is assertive, deep in your ear. You can’t help but be a little excited—Maybe you’d wanted this type of reaction from him the entire time. You’re kneeling yourself down without having to be guided, tugging for his black sweats, watching as his dick springs from beneath the material. His tip is a dark pink, veins prominent as it slaps along his belly button. Your mouth waters at the sight.

You wrap your fingers around the base, staring up with your dark lashes, cheeks warm and red as you dig your teeth into your lip, “Want my mouth on you, baby?”

Your inner thighs throb again as he lightly smacks your cheek, gripping your jaw open to separate your lips, “You fuckin’ heard me. Don’t play right now.” 

He watches as you take him fully into your mouth, throat humming as you swirl your tongue around his tip, eyes closing as you nod your head back and forth. He reaches back, tangling his fingers through your hair as he guides your movements, dark eyes watching each time you take him deeper.

“Make that shit sloppy as fuck,” he grunts. 

You open your mouth wider at that, eyes dropping low as you nod your head back and forth, tip dragging along the roof of your mouth, sliding deeper in your throat. Your saliva begins to increase, jaw aching each time his balls slap along your bruising lips, yet you moan in pleasure, wanting more—needing more. 

Your eyes are practically stars to him. They glimmer under the lights of the living room, music strumming in his ears as you hollow your cheeks, back arching, ass poking out of your dress as you lean forward to be as close to him as possible. You watch him like a movie, his equally dark baby pink lips halfway open, head falling back as he groans, tightening his fist along your hair. 

“Oh shit,” his low voice moans, “Suck my fuckin’ dick just like that, baby. Need my shit messy.”

He knows how much you like him praising you on, your lips firmly wrapping around his tip, molding your mouth around it as you slovenly suck, the sound echoing along the room. Your jaw burns even more. But the sight of his large hands encapsulating your curls, inked abdomen tightening as he watches your every move, your saliva warm from how hard he’s thrusting in your mouth, it’s like a drug. An addiction. He slows down, holding your hair with both fists, pulling himself out of your mouth as you stick your tongue out, awaiting to catch him again. His tip slaps along your jaw, the giggle leaving your lips captured by your intoxication.

He feels your hot breath on his tip as he looks down at you, seeing your tongue hang out of your mouth, wet and glistening in the dim light. The sight alone sends a jolt straight to his already throbbing dick. 

"You’ finna’ swallow every last drop I got for you." 

His words were firm, almost demanding as he watched you take him back into your mouth. This time, he held onto your head aggressively, fucking your eager mouth at a slow pace, allowing you to savor the taste of him.

You drag saliva along the veins of his dick, pulling your mouth back as you hum, “Feel good, baby?“ 

“Feel good as fuck, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You’ tryna’ get fucked like a princess,” he grunts back to you, watching as your thumb runs over his tip, rolling your hand in a motion all the way down to the base of his length. 

You circle your tongue back around his tip, sliding your lips around before pulling his length all the way to the back of your throat, the walls of your breath swelling as you gag, melting in his pleasure.

“Gonna nut, baby? Talk to me.” 

"Finna’ nut all in that pretty ass mouth, baby,” he promises to you, and he does, his voice dropping to a low growl as he pushes you further, forcing you to take his entire length between your lips, the inside of your mouth becoming warm. 

When he pulls back, his dick slides out slowly for you to lap up any leftover drops of cum that dribble out. He then tugs on your hair, bringing your face up to meet his. 

You instantly stick your tongue out to show that you swallowed, giggling as you run your tongue against your lips, “Cleaned you up so good.”

You know he’s sensitive. You flick your eyes up as you kiss his tip, the giggles faltering off your lips like nothing as you tipsily moan, “Pretty ass dick, baby.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy.”

He grunts as he pulls you up by your hair, smashing your lips against his in a kiss. You’re encapsulated by his mouth, tongue thrusting in between your lips, the feeling making your eyes roll back, moaning as you open your mouth wider. You loved kissing him. His lips were full, nearly overlapping yours as you made out with him. 

He pulls you back, fingers around your throat as he commands, “Get on the sofa. Spread your legs.” 

Ony’s already on his knees as you bend over the black velvet furniture. You spread your legs as you arch slightly, face hiding within your shoulder, eyes turning back to meet his. He’s trailing kisses along your thighs—it’s torturous at this point. Your pussy throbs as he’s blowing his breath against your core.

 He spanks the skin of your ass as he growls, “Nasty ass.”

He’s already down there, his lips wrapping around your clit, bottom lip dropping lower to rub against the entirety of you, tongue swirling to spread you open. You reach your palms behind, spreading yourself for him, forehead kneeling against the furniture as you breathily whine, “Yeah, baby. Always love when you eat my pussy.”

“Watch that fuckin’ mouth,” he warns in between your flesh.

He’s eating you like desert—Licking you from bottom to top. His hands find their way to your hips, pinning you down to the couch as he shakes his head from side to side, deepening his tongue against your folds. He halts as he comes up, pulling your face towards his as he grips your chin, commanding, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth,” the moment he says it, your tongue sticking out as you drop saliva in between his lips. He accepts it, going back down as he coats it along your pussy, the feeling making your thighs tremble. He’s rough. And sloppy. Just how you liked it.

Latching back against the sticky walls of your pussy, you become more wet as he French kisses the throb of your clit, head swaying up and down as he flattens his tongue against the overall of you.

He’s lapping you up like a thirsty man. His tongue is thick and heavy against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. His tongue continues its assault on your pussy, licking you in circles until you start squirming underneath him, desperately trying to hold your mouth.

His hands leave your hips, moving to grip your ass to expose more of your dripping entrance to him. Without warning, he buries his tongue deep inside of you, his lips sealed tight against your wetness as he starts fucking you with his mouth.

“Pussy tight as fuck, baby. Even on my tongue,” he grunts.

“Come fuck me, Ony,” you pout, “I’m so fuckin’ horny,” you almost cry at the pressure between your legs.

He doesn’t talk shit like you expect him to. Instead, he pulls his mouth away from you, your body lightly jumping as you feel his tip sloshing around your opening, patting against it, kissing the outside of your walls. 

“This’ what you want, huh?” 

He brings his hand around the front of you, palm clutching around your throat to pull you up closer to him. You try to nod your head, pushing your hips back to relieve the friction. You thought you were going to faint. 

Your mind is still buzzing. Every inch slowly sinks into you, an ache itching in the depths of your walls, making your hips tremble as you gasp lightly. You push your body forward to escape, which only makes Ony grip you back, rolling his hips forward as he tsks, “Nuh-Uh, don’t do that,” making your eyes flutter shut as you whine, “Ooh, fuck. Daddy.” 

Your whining makes him grunt, spanking you in response to your mouth, sensitivity spiked as you whimper. He smacks his lips, “Cut that shit out. You’ crying for my dick, take all of it.” 

The heaviness of your ass drops against his abdomen, air spurring in between your hips, the suction making you quiver in response.

You turn your head, jaw dropping lightly as you suck in a breath, moving your body to adjust. You lift your hips as you watch yourself, eyes flicking up to meet him as you slide back down, listening to the skin connect, stomach cramping as you shudder out another whine. 

“Gonna take all of it,” you desperately gasp, digging your fingers into the material of the couch, beginning to swirl your hips around as you fuck yourself, walls gushing at your eagerness. Each time you come up, his tip coats with more of your cream, moans progressively losing sense behind them each time your ass claps against his hips.

"Needy ass fuckin’ girl," he grumbles, gripping onto your waist tightly. "I be’ spoiling you too much.” 

His right hand reaches onto the left side of your waist to get a good grip on you, dropping you up and down to watch your bodies move in sync, matching your rhythm as he starts fucking you harder. With every thrust, he slams into you, filling you completely, making you gasp out loud. He leans down, whispering in your ear, "Pussy wet as fuck. You hear my pussy? She’ talking. Just as loud as your fuckin’ mouth.”

You do listen, skin slapping against each others, your pussy squelching and sloshing as he now has a hold along the back of your dress, using that to tug you down, the air secretion igniting loud sounds with it. Your cheeks are red, something that usually happened when you became shy, turning your head back towards the wall as you moaned.

"Don’t be all shy now. Look at me. Need to see your face while you creamin’ on my shit like that.” 

The command is sharp, leaving no room for refusal. He feels you tense under him, your inner walls trembling around his dick. He keeps pounding into you, your juices flowing down his shaft and onto his balls.

When you don't obey immediately, he spanks your ass to make you shriek, hard enough to leave a bruises before demanding again, "Look at me."

You instead kneel your head against the sofa. It’s not long before he becomes impatient, and he pulls you to stand flat on your feet. He keeps your back perfectly arched, rubbing his tip along your folds as he’s already sinking back in, making you lightly groan. He then takes your arms, palms tight around your wrists as he pulls them back and raises them slightly above your body, thrusting his hips forward, skin loudly echoing together as he gives you mean—almost enough to bully you—thrusts. 

The moans you give are shocking, standing on your toes to escape from him, pussy tightening as the back of your thighs sting, friction against his hips, arousal dripping against his balls and abdomen. 

“Agh—fuck—baby, ooohshit. Oohshit, Ony,” you’re rambling to him, unable to move as you’re trapped in this position.

"Shut the fuck up. I ain't wanna hear none of that noise." 

He goes back to pounding you, ignoring your high pitched squeals, the arch of your back deepening as you want to jump out of your skin. 

"Quit fuckin’ running. Take this fuckin’ dick. You’ wanna be grown, be fuckin’ grown, big girl,” he talks, skin harshly meeting with his, his dick painted with your arousal, ignoring the way you messily sob, a darkness in your vision as your eyes are staring into the back of your head. 

“Ooohh, daddy. Ony—baby. Fuckin’ me so good, baby. Fuckin’ love you. Oh my god, love you, babyy.”

“You’ need more? You’ still talking?”

You feel defeated, senseless as he continues to fuck you, uncaring if he’s mean about it.

Yet turn your head, erotically giggling in between your manic episode, unable to stop your mouth from talking.

“This your pussy, Ony. You’ hear her? She missed you so much,” you whimper, wanting him to forgive you from your insults earlier in the night.

“I don’t wanna hear all that."

He picks up the pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You sing to him, gasping and whining pathetically. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, drowning out everything else. He feels you tighten around him, your walls clenching down on his length.

"You' gonna cum? Or you' just gonna keep talking?"

“Baby…” you softly cry, “Ony, keep talking to me, baby…be nice…” you whimper, missing that side of him. 

You’re sorry for coming home late. You’re sorry for talking shit. You’re just sorry. But this punishment feels all too good.

"You' sorry now?" 

His tone is mocking—he knows he's got you right where he wants you. 

"Keep talking. Mean it.” 

He continues to fuck you mercilessly, his words cutting through the pleasure like a knife.

“Sosorry, baby. Sosorry, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Wanna cum all over your dick. Fuckkk, cum in me. Don’t stop,” your eyes well with tears, digging your teeth into your lip.

He releases your hands, his fingers stretching around your throat as he pulls your back to meet his chest, mouth along your ear as you stand back on your tip-toes, taking everything he gives you.

You messily moan as you lean back against his shoulder, using the strength you have in your hips as you circle your ass around, wanting to match his rhythm, jumping as you feel him spank you again. You were in a lustful haze.

“Look at you’ taking my dick, baby. You love it?”

“I love it,” you whine back, face warm as you take his other hand to put it in front of you, putting it in between your legs as you want him to rub your clit. Sometimes you were bold. Sometimes you weren’t.

You can hear the arrogance in his chuckle along your ear, his fingers rubbing in circles against your clit as he grunts, “Cute ass,” which makes you whimper, putting your head down to hide your warm face.

Your mind falls back into the fuzziness of before, the intimacy of it all making you feel drunk again, your legs feeling numb as he fucks your brains away. You feel yourself wanting to go limp, hooking an arm around yourself to hold his head from behind, his lips latching along your throat. 

You’re whining, “Babby,” gasping in between, warning him, “I’m—I’m gonna cum…”

“You’ think I don’t know when my pussy about to cum? Look how tight you’ getting,” he grunts, spanking you again, your ass probably red by now. 

You can’t stop the orgasm that comes, pathetic moans leaving your lips, your hand shaking as your brokenly whine into his mouth, body wanting to collapse as he grabs for your free hand, trapping it under his that clutches your throat you keep you in place.

You’re stuck in place again, creaming heavily on his dick, gushing and cumming in intense waves, pushing out the arousal as your eyes clutched shut, body trembling to ride out the wave. 

“Ooh, that’s good as fuck, baby,” he grunts, “Cum just like that.”

You seem to sober up the minute your orgasm begins to subside, and your eyes are terribly heavy, just wanting to sleep. You feel a kiss along your neck as your legs come off the ground, being carried as your wrap your arms around his neck. 

“You’ ready to cuddle?” Is all he asks. 

Your eyes peek up despite how tired you are. You ask, “That’s it? Am I ready to cuddle? After you did all that?” 

“Do you need it again?” 

“No.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he kisses your forehead, “Let’s go to sleep.” 

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader warnings: angst.

Rafe Cameron holds grudges better than anyone and his ex was about to witness exactly that. 

Jessica Green liked to think of herself as the queen of their university, the epitome of beauty and popularity. Some real high school bullshit he only fed because he really liked her. And then, she went and dumped him for none other than Tyler West, the star player of his rival basketball team.

Technically, she cheated on him, sneaking around with that piece of shit behind his back. So yes, the humiliation was killing him. 

Rafe wasn't one to take such things lying down; he wanted revenge, and he needed it badly. He wanted to ruin her life. It wasn’t enough to ruin her reputation—he wanted to hit her where it hurt the most. And what would hurt more than being replaced? Not by any girl, but by someone who was everything she wasn’t. It was a genius idea, really.

He wanted to prove that some loser could easily take her place, with a little help from him, of course.

That's when you came into the picture. Kelce pointed you out actually, when they were six beers in and too fucking drunk to think clearly. But it was still a solid choice.

You were the complete opposite of his ex, blending into the crowds like a superpower. He watched you for an entire hour at the party, no uttering a single word the entire time you were there, only nursing your drink and listening to the other girls on the cheerleading squad speak.

Shit, he didn’t know you were a cheerleader until that night. Were you always there? How had he never noticed you before? It was hard to remember when all he focused on up until then was Jessica. 

You were practically invisible in comparison to her, always on the sidelines, blending into the background. 

You were perfect. If he could take this overlooked, nerdy girl and turn her into the new "queen" of the university, it would be the ultimate blow to Jessica's ego. It would prove that she wasn’t as irreplaceable as she thought. 

“You really gonna do it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you, “Oh yeah. I'm doing it.”

“Nahh, there’s no way you’re pulling this off.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin at the corner of his mouth.

Kelce’s skepticism was exactly what he expected, it made the challenge even sweeter.

 “You think so?” he mused. “Watch me.”

Kelce, always the instigator, “No way, Cameron. You think you can turn that quiet little thing into the next Jessica? She’s cute, I guess, in that nerdy way, but she’s not queen material.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “She’s got potential,” he said confidently. “Just needs someone to show her how to use it.”

Topper laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane. This isn’t a bad rom-com movie where the shy girl takes off her glasses and suddenly she’s hot.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe pointed out, “It’s all about confidence man. Jessica wasn’t born the way she is now. I can do the same with her.”

A silly school project, he thought to himself. That’s all you were. 

Kelce took a swig of his drink, enjoying where the conversation was going. “Alright, I’ll bite. How much time are we talking here? Because she’s got a looooong way to go."

Rafe tilted his head, considering. “Give me two months."

Topper snorted, setting his drink down with a thunk. “Two months? No way. I say, a grand says you can’t pull it off.”

Kelce laughed, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good. I’m in. A grand."

The two idiots were already shaking hands over it, acting like it was a twisted fantasy football bet.

“Y’all are gonna feel real fucking stupid when she’s walking into parties on my arm and every guy on campus is trying to figure out where the hell she came from.”

“And what’s the plan, exactly? Gonna Cinderella her ass into popularity?”

Rafe cocked an eyebrow, swirling the last bit of his beer in his red cup.

“Something like that,” he drawled. “Little wardrobe upgrade. Introduce her to the right people. Coach her on how to not sound like she’s afraid of her own voice.”

Kelce laughed, too loud. “Jesus. You’re gonna Pygmalion her.”

Rafe was going to make you untouchable. He’d improve every dull corner of you until you gleamed under the lights she used to think were reserved for her. And when Jessica saw you on his arm, in her place, with every pair of eyes following you instead of her, that’s when the knife would twist..

He finished his drink and slamming the glass down on the table. “I’m upgrading.”

Topper whistled low. “You’re a sick fuck, man.”

Rafe smiled, tongue in his cheek. “Takes one to know one.”

Kelce raised his glass. “To Rafe and his miracle project. This is gonna be fun to watch.”

Topper shook his head again as he clinked his glass against Kelce’s. “Here’s to you wasting a month of your life on a lost cause.”

“You better start saving up.”

This plan was flawless. 

It was so good that even in his drunken stupor, he could see how perfectly it would play out. The first step was simple: get close to you. Make you feel special, noticed. Rafe knew how to charm people; it was practically second nature. With Jessica, it had been easy, she’d fallen for his looks, his confidence, his golden boy appeal. 

The next day, he started showing up at places he knew you’d be. The library, the campus coffee shop, even lingering around after cheerleading practice.

At first, he didn’t approach you, only observed. 

He had to figure out how to make you see him without scaring you off. It took an entire week before he made his first move.

You were sitting alone in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes. He casually strolled up, pretending to be looking for a book on the same shelf.

“Hey,” he said, glancing down at you with a disarming smile. “You’re in my econ class, right? Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up startled, but nodded, moving your books to make room for him. You probably couldn’t believe that someone like Rafe Cameron was talking to you, let alone sitting with you. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Get you out of your shell and into his orbit.

He was acutely aware that one wrong move could cost him, it could send you running.

You kept your eyes down, focused on your notes. Your hand wavered as you turned the page, and Rafe leaned in—not intruding, but making sure you knew he was there.

“You always this buried in work?” he asked casually, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.

You glanced up, surprised he was still there.

“I guess. I have a lot to catch up on.”

He chuckled. “I hear you. Econ’s been kicking my ass this semester. You doing okay in it?”

He could tell you were caught off guard. You didn't think he knew you shared the same class. And he didn't, until last week.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s… fine. Just a lot of material.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around these supply and demand curves for days. You think the professor’s trying to torture us?”

You smiled faintly, a small victory in his book. “Maybe. It’s kind of her thing.”

Rafe grinned, pleased that he got a reaction out of you.

“You mind if I study with you? Might help to bounce some ideas off each other.”

You blinked, taken aback by his request. “Um, sure. I mean, if you want.”

“Definitely,” he replied smoothly. “You seem like you know what’s going on, unlike me.”

He spent the next hour working alongside you, occasionally asking questions, but mostly just being there. He didn’t push or try too hard.

He wanted you to feel comfortable around him, to see him as someone you could rely on.

“I’m sorry about Jessica.”

You blurted it out, and he knew instantly it hadn’t been meant for him to hear.

Rafe froze, his grip tightening on the pen. He felt the familiar anger bubbling up, but he kept it down, his expression void of any resentment. This was what he didn’t want—Jessica’s name, spoken by you.

But he couldn’t let you see that. 

He looked at you, feigning surprise with a bit of sadness, as if Jessica was a painful memory he was trying to move past.

“Oh,” he said, voice even. “You know about that?”

You nodded, eyes wide and apologetic, regretting bringing it up.

“Yeah… I mean, it’s all over campus, right? The girls were talking about it in the locker room. I just—I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

Rafe forced a smile, faking gratitude for your concern. He sighed, putting on a relived act.

“It’s okay,” he lied. “I guess it’s one of those things, y’know? We were together for a while, and it sucked when it ended.”

You looked down at your notes, fidgeting with the corner of a page. 

“She shouldn’t have done that to you.”

He let out a dry laugh, the bitterness threatening to seep through, but he disguised it as a rueful chuckle.

“Yeah, people do shitty things sometimes. Guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Your body instantly relaxed, relieved that he wasn’t angry. Rafe needed to pull the conversation away from his ex, and back to you, where it should be.

“But hey,” he added, as if genuinely trying to shake off the bad memories, “Everything happens for a reason right?"

You bit your lip at the sudden attention. “Right."

He leaned forward, “You’re not like everyone else around here. You’re real, y’know? Genuine. I like that.”

Bullshit. But he could see the effect his words had on you. Easy.

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away, a shy smile on your lips. “I’m just…here.”

Rafe shook his head, taking on a more sincere tone. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to see that.”

He held your gaze, letting the silence settle to make the moment feel meaningful, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. He was reeling you in, one calculated move at a time.

Finally, you nodded, lips twitching, “Thanks, Rafe."

Oh, you were too perfect for this.

He grinned, as if the conversation had lightened his mood.

 “Anytime."

It was a perfect first interaction. It made you feel like he was letting you in on something personal and from the look on your face, it worked. Except, inside, Rafe was fuming. Jessica had managed to worm her way into his head again, indirectly, a reminder of why he was doing this shit in the first place. 

“So,” he said, steering the conversation back to safer waters, “You think you can help me with this econ stuff? Because I’m pretty sure I’m doomed without you.”

You laughed, the tension from earlier completely dissipating.

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

You both turned your attention back to your notes. Rafe felt a sense of satisfaction.

He was winning that bet on way or another. 

Over the next few weeks, he made sure to stick to his plan. Slowly but surely, he slipped his way into your life. He was always around, ready with a casual compliment or a small gesture that made you feel special. He’d walk you to class, carry your books, and offer to study with you whenever he had the chance. He knew how to play the long game, and you were warming up to him more and more. He made sure to steer clear of anything that might remind you of Jessica or his past. Instead, he focused on building up your confidence, subtly encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

He’d invite you to parties, introducing you to his friends, and before long, you were starting to come out of your shell. You even started to dress a little differently—nothing too drastic, but enough to catch people’s attention.

The change was gradual, but it was happening.

The first party he invited you to was at a swanky off-campus house, you’d only ever heard about but never had the nerve to attend. He had that effect on you—made you start to believe you could belong in a world that had always seemed so out of reach. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Rafe said, his voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated, feeling out of place just imagining yourself surrounded by strangers.

“I don’t know… I’m not really into parties,” you admitted.

Rafe grinned, a playful shine in his eyes. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just give it a try, for me?”

He seemed so earnest that you found yourself nodding without a fight.

“Okay. I guess I could give it a shot.”

It was initially awkward—loud music, people you didn’t know, and a social scene that was worlds away from where you belonged. 

But Rafe stayed close. 

It overwhelmed your senses. You clung a little closer to him, which he noticed and shot you a reassuring smile, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guided. He was different tonight—more assertive. 

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin. “You’re with me. Have some fun, sweets.”

You nodded, trying to loosen up, but the eyes on you—on both of you—were hard to avoid. People were noticing. Whispering.

It was exactly what Rafe planned.

He led you to where Kelce and Topper were already posted up, drinks in hand. The second they saw you, their eyebrows shot up, but they quickly masked their surprise with easy smiles. Rafe greeted them, his hand never leaving your body.

“Guys, this is her,” Rafe said, his tone casual. “Told you I’d get her to come out with us.”

Kelce looked you up and down, smirk growing.

"Cameron. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Topper raised his drink in your direction, “Nice to meet you. Rafe’s been talking you up.”

You managed a small chuckle, not a fan of extra attention on you. “Nice to meet you too.”

Rafe gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you grab a drink? I’ll be right here.”

You nodded, grateful for the brief escape, and headed towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the easygoing demeanor Rafe had been maintaining with you slipped away as he turned back to his friends.

“So?” Kelce asked, “How’s the project going?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

“Better than expected. She’s starting to come out of her shell. Still got a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on track.”

Topper's eyes followed you as you picked out a drink. “She seems… nice. You sure you want to go through with this, man?”

Rafe shot him a look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Topper shrugged. “She doesn’t seem like the type who’s cut out for this crowd. Might be too sweet for what you’ve got planned.”

Kelce chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s sweet, alright. That's the whole point, isn’t it? She’s not Jessica."

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “Exactly. She’s perfect for this.”

He said it with confidence, but there was something else in his eyes—he shoved it down and buried it as he watched you make your way back with a drink in hand. Nah.

You came back, walkin’ over all pretty and yeah—fuck. Couldn’t help it. His relaxed on its own, his brain forgetting he was supposed to be playing it charming.

“Got somethin’ good?” He asked, nodding at your drink, knowing damn well he just gawked at your mouth the whole walk back.

You giggled, holding up your cup. “Just punch. Thought I’d start slow.”

Rafe snorted, nodding approvingly.

“Smart move. Don’t let these guys talk you into anything too crazy.”

He meant to just say his piece and move on—but then you smiled again and that giggle stuck around in his head longer than it should’ve. You were bright-eyed and sweet, not trying hard at all, not even knowin’ how pretty you sounded when you laughed like that.

The night went on like that. Rafe played the part well—always right there with you. Hand on your shoulder when the crowd got thick, fingers brushing yours when he leaned in to tell you who was who. He introduced you to people with that easy grin, acting like he’d been doing this with you forever.

And every time you stepped away—whether it was for another drink or to fix your lip gloss—he’d glance over at his boys. A fleeting look, something silent, keeping score.

You didn’t catch that, though.

All you saw was him. This guy who stuck by your side all night, who made you feel like you belonged. Between the drinks and the way his hand kept finding yours, you started to let your guard down. You laughed more. Talked more. Stopped second-guessing every word that came out of your mouth.

Rafe noticed, of course. That was the whole point. He’d spent weeks laying the groundwork, tonight was just the beginning.

He was getting what he wanted.

Or, at least, he thought he was. Then you laughed at something Kelce said—head tilted back, unfiltered—something in him pulled up short. It wasn’t big or dramatic. A thought. Something about the way you looked right then made his chest go quiet.

He didn’t dwell on it, knowing better.

Especially with his ex still lurking.

Sure enough, she cornered him before class the next day.

“Rafe, can we talk?”

He didn’t look at her, instead shoving his notebook into his bag as if she wasn’t even worth the effort.

"What's up?"

Jessica glanced around, making sure no one was listening, before stepping closer to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He tilted his head, barely reacting. “What do you mean?”

She huffed in frustration, not in the mood for his mind games.

“Don’t act like you don’t know. She’s a nice girl, I know she’s not your type.”

Rafe couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Jealous?

“You’re just going to use her to get back at me? That’s not fair. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Rafe hummed. “You didn’t think about fairness when you were sneaking around with Tyler, did you? Why should I care about what she deserves?”

"Rafe."

"You only care about your precious reputation, so shut the fuck up."

Jessica flinched, “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

“Do you even realize what you did to me?” The memory of the last time he’d trusted her flashed before his eyes. “You don’t get to apologize now, or tell me what’s fair.”

Jessica’s expression softened.

“I’m not saying this for me. I’m saying it for her."

Rafe snorted, "Right, because you care so much about other people, huh?"

"You're being difficult for no reason."

Rafe clenched his jaw. He wanted to lash out, tell her that she didn’t get to play the moral high ground after everything she’d done.

“Stay out of it, Jess” he gritted out, “And keep your fucking mouth shut.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping as if she’d been expecting this. “Just think about it before you do something stupid."

Without another word, Jessica turned and walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, seething with anger. He watched her go, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Of course, she would act like she gave a shit about you the moment he’s attention dropped from her.

This was about revenge, proving his point.

You were just a means to an end. But you made it so fucking hard for him to keep his head in the game half the time.

When you smiled at him or thanked him for something small, it nailed the hatred he had built up inside. It was part of the plan, getting close to you was necessary for the outcome he wanted. Except, the more time he spent with you, the more he realized that he was enjoying himself. 

That was bad.

He didn't have to put in the effort to influence you. You began to speak up in class, even crack jokes with the other girls on the cheerleading squad. The transformation was happening right before his eyes, just like he’d planned.

Funnily enough, instead of feeling satisfied, there guilt forming in his stomach. You were changing, you were starting to trust him, to look at him like he was more than some popular dude who was doing you a favor. You were beginning to care, and that terrified him.

Why did it terrify him? That's what he wished for.

One night, after another party where you had danced closer, Rafe walked you back to your dorm. The campus was quiet, the stars above bright against the inky sky. You were buzzing with the energy of the night, still talking animatedly about how much fun you’d had.

The sound of your laughter, the way your eyes lit up—

“Thanks for inviting me, Rafe. I never thought I’d enjoy these things, but you make it… I don’t know, easier, I guess.”

Rafe smiled down at you, ignoring the way his heart twisted at your words. 

“I’m glad sweets. You deserve to have fun.”

You looked up at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly. For everything. You didn’t have to be this nice to me.”

That's when he saw you.

Not as a means to an end, but someone he grew to genuinely care about. Shit.

“It’s no big deal. Really.”

But it was a big deal, and you both knew it.

You had gone from barely existing on the social radar to being someone everyone wanted to be around. But that was all you. Rafe had given you that, but your personality made people like you the moment they met you.

He was taking something from you—your trust.

He walked you to your door, his usual confidence gone as you turned to face him. There was something different about you tonight.

“Rafe… I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you began hesitantly.

He forced himself to stay calm, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Yeah? What’s up?”

You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your top before meeting his eyes again. “Why did you start talking to me? Was it because you felt s-sorry for me? Or… or something else?”

Rafe’s mind raced, trying to find the words that wouldn’t hurt you. He needed to lie, like he’d been doing all along.

You continued, “I’m glad you did. Whatever the reason was. I’ve never felt this… this good about myself. And it’s because of you.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

Fuck.

He’d thought he could control this, control you, but it was slipping through his fingers. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve always been amazing,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I just… I just helped you see it.”

You grinned up at him, eyes glossing with gratitud. You were looking at him like he was someone worth caring about, and for the first time, he felt like he was the one being played.

But if he pulled away now—after all the nights walking you home, learning how you liked your coffee and the exact songs that made you smile—it would only raise questions he didn’t have answers for.

Instead, he kissed you.

You didn’t pull away, kissing him back without hesitation. His hand moved to the back of your neck, not pulling. You made a soft sound in the back of your throat, barely audible, but it hit him all the same.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he pulled back when it flooded his insides. The look in your eyes nearly undid him. There was so much trust, and it made him want to break something, anything, to stop feeling the way he did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the kiss had taken something out of him.

You nodded, still dazed. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

This was wrong. 

He knew it was wrong. But the way you were looking at him...he couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched you go inside, waiting until you disappeared into your dorm before he let out a shaky breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He was so close to winning and yet, he couldn’t help but feel that he was the one who was losing.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Jessica’s words mocked him.

“I’m sorry okay? I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I fell in love with Tyler. I’m not sorry about that.”

He had scoffed at her then, dismissed her excuses as pathetic attempts to justify her shitty behavior.

But now, lying there alone, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was any different. He didn’t plan on feeling anything real for you. This was supposed to be a game, a way to hurt Jessica the way she hurt him. But somewhere along the line, things had changed.

How could he let this happen? How could he, of all people, start to care? He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be the one pulling the strings, not getting tangled in them.

And yet, the memory of your pretty face, the sound of your laugh, the warmth in your eyes—these were the things that lingered in his mind, all the damn time. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

The anger and bitterness that had fueled him for weeks were still there, but they were being drowned out by you.

Rafe’s resolve had been torn for days, but he pushed the guilt aside as he drove to campus the next morning. He was picking you up before class, something that had become a routine. It was a small gesture, but one that made you smile every time, and Rafe had to admit, he looked forward to seeing it.

When he pulled up to your dorm, you were already outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. You looked different from when he first met you—still shy, but with a confidence that hadn’t been there before.

It was subtle, but Rafe noticed. He noticed everything about you these days.

“Hey,” you greeted as you slid into the passenger seat, giving him a grin that always made his brain turn mushy. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly, shifting the car into gear. “Ready for another day of fun and learning?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a lightness in your expression that hadn’t been there a month ago.

“If by fun, you mean trying not to fall asleep in econ, then yeah, totally ready.”

He chuckled, glancing over as he pulled onto the road. “I’m starting to think you secretly enjoy econ. You’re just trying to maintain your cool, indifferent persona.”

You laughed, the sound genuine and free, and Rafe felt that unfamiliar squeeze in his chest again.

“Yeah, that’s me. The cool, indifferent econ nerd.”

“See? I knew it."

The drive to campus was easy. When you arrived, he parked in his usual spot, but instead of getting out right away, you turned to him, your expression suddenly serious.

“Rafe, can I ask you something?”

Had you figured it out? Did you know about the bet? He quickly forced a nod.

“Sure sweets, what’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip, a habit he’d noticed you had when you were nervous.

“Why did you kiss me?”

This was the moment he’d been dreading, when you’d start questioning everything. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

“Why not? I like you. I like being around you.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his, trying to find the truth in his words. Rafe held your gaze, doing his best to keep his expression open and honest.

You nodded, as if you’d decided to believe him.

“Okay,” you said. “I...I didn’t want to assume, y’know? It’s just...new.”

“Good new, though, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “Good new.”

You were starting to get closer, to trust him, and every time you did, the guilt fucked with his head a little more. 

Later that day, when the two of you met up for a late lunch, he noticed the way you had begun to attract attention from others.

Guys glanced your way, noticing the changes in you, and a few girls even stopped to chat—a far cry from the shy girl he’d first approached in the library.

You two sat down at a table outside the campus cafe, your eyes lit up when you spotted someone approaching. It was Leila, a girl from your cheer squad. She waved and came over, sitting down.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “Mind if I join?”

“Sure,” you said, scooting over to make room for her.

He nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but there was something about the way Leila looked at you that irked him.

She complimented you on something you’d done at practice the other day, you blushed at the praise. He could see how much you were changing, starting to come into your own. i

It was becoming harder and harder to justify what he was doing.

“She’s nice. I didn’t think she even noticed me before.”

“She notices you now."

You looked at him, your giddy expression fading.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Just thinking."

“About what?”

“About how you’re starting to steal everyone’s attention here. What am I gonna do when you’re the most popular one around here?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

You were starting to trust him, to believe in the friendship he was offering, and it was killing him. He needed to talk to someone about it, someone who knew the score.

After dropping you off at your dorm by the end of the day, he called Kelce. The phone rang a few times before his friend picked up, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Yo, Cameron. What’s up?”

Rafe took a deep breath, leaning against the side of his car.

“I need to talk, man. About the bet.”

Kelce laughed, not picking up on the seriousness in Rafe’s voice.

“What, you already feeling bad for her? Didn’t think you’d go soft so fast.”

Rafe frowned, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t think it’d be like this. She’s... she’s actually really nice, Kelce. Genuinely nice.”

“Dude, we all knew she was nice. That’s what makes this so good, remember why you’re doing it.”

Rafe sighed in frustration. “I know, but... She trusts me."

And I trust her, he wanted to add.

“Dude, you're in too deep to back out now. Keep your eye on the prize, okay?"

He nodded, even though Kelce couldn’t see him.

“Yeah... yeah, you’re right. I needed to clear my head.”

“Good,” Kelce gloated. “Now go get some sleep or something. We’ve got a party this weekend, and I wanna see you back on your game.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, man.”

By Friday, the campus was buzzing with weekend plans, and you were in a good mood, chatting excitedly about some party that night. You two were in the cafeteria, grabbing lunch, when it happened.

You were waiting in line for food, and Rafe had stepped aside to check his phone. When he glanced up, he saw a guy approaching you—a guy he recognized from the football team. A sleazy bastard.

The guy flashed you a charming smirk, trying to flirt. Rafe never wanted to pummel a guy's face to the wall so fucking bad.

He watched from a distance as the guy made you laugh, his hand resting on the counter next to yours. Too fucking close.

It made ugly rise in him. His grip tightened around his phone as he watched. You seemed flattered but a little uncomfortable, your smile not reaching your eyes. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, and it made him feel something primal, it burned hotter than the guilt.

He wanted to go over there, tell that guy to back the fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, seething. Scaring you was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the guy finally walked away, only after begging for your number, you looked relieved, but Rafe was already moving.

He crossed the cafeteria in quick strides, heart pounding in every single corner of his body. You spotted him coming, waving but dropping your arm when you saw the look on his face.

“Rafe, what’s—”

He didn’t let you finish.

His hand cupped your face as he all but yanked you toward him.

And then he kissed you, again.

It wasn’t like the kiss outsider your dorm. It came out fierce, almost desperate. He needed to prove something to himself, to you, and to everyone watching. All he cared about was you, right there, in his arms.

You were caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then you melted into him. Rafe deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you let out a content sigh that only made him kiss you harder.

People around you were definitely watching now, whispering, some even cheering. He didn’t pull away until he was breathless, and even then, he stayed close, his forehead against yours, breathing heavy.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the way you were looking at him, dazed, pretty lips swollen from the intensity he had poured into you.

“What... what was that?” your voice shaky, searching his face for answers.

Rafe knew he should've explained himself, but all he wanted was to kiss you stupid. He shook his head, lips tilting at how adorable you looked.

“Couldn’t help myself."

You blinked up at him, trying to process what had just happened, there was no mistaking the way your body was responding to him. 

He stepped back, keeping his hand on your waist as he looked around. Sure enough, the guy from earlier was watching. Rafe caught his eye, giving him a look that said everything without words.

She’s mine.

He knew he’d just crossed a line, again, but in that moment, all he cared about was the way you felt in his arms, the way you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

“C’mon,” Rafe murmured. “We’ve got class.”

You stupidly nodded and let him guide you out of the cafeteria.

As you approached the building where your next class was, he stopped, turning to face you. He touched your cheek again, thumb brushing against your skin, and you leaned into his touch.

“Rafe—”

“You’re my girl,” he whispered, “Okay?”

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes glossy and trusting.

Rafe was on the edge of something he couldn’t control, but as he stole one more kiss, slow and tender this time, he realized he didn’t care.

“Rafe…” you muttered against his lips. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to understand about what you were, what you two were becoming.

His traced the curve of your jawline.

“I need you to know that you mean something to me. This, us—"

“Okay.”

He was already in too deep.

Just like that, he got what he wanted. 

The next day, everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe has finally aligned for you. He asked you out, and just like that, you were together.

The next two months were a dream—utter bliss. You weren’t happy; you were radiant. 

Every smile he gave you, every touch or whispered confession of how perfect you were sent you soaring higher. He couldn’t get enough of you—your sweetness, your kindness, your genuine heart. It was as if he was falling more and more in love with you every single day.

At the same time, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, there was a shadow, a sliver of guilt that he pushed aside. He never officially ended the bet with Kelce and Topper. It was a childish stupid game, so insignificant compared to what he feels for you now.

He forgot about it, it didn’t matter anymore. After all, what you two had is real, right?

Until it wasn't.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

It’s after cheerleading practice, and you’re alone in the locker room, stuffing your things into your bag. The air is filled with the scent of sweat and body spray, the usual post-practice atmosphere.

You're zipping up your bag when you hear voices nearby, right around the corner.

Leila and Jessica, their conversation hushed but unmistakable.

You wouldn’t normally eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their voices makes you pause.

"You were right," Leila says, her voice edged with a cruel satisfaction. "About your gut feeling with Rafe and his new girl."

Oh.

Jessica sounds defeated. "What do you mean?"

Leila sighs.

"Kelce spilled everything when we hooked up last week. He was too high to keep his mouth shut. Rafe’s been playing her this whole time, using her to mess with you. It was all a bet."

Your breath gets losts somewhere between your lungs and your throat, you can’t move or think. The room spins around you, the ground shaking beneath your feet.

No. No, this can’t be real.

Leila’s voice continues, unaware of the devastation she’s causing.

"It's so fucked up. She has no idea. She’s out there thinking he’s her Prince Charming, and all along it was just some sick game."

Jessica doesn’t say anything, but you can’t bear to hear more. You're suffocating, your chest squeezing as panic floods your system all at once.

You’re running—out of the locker room, down the hall, anywhere to get away from those words, those horrible, soul-crushing words.

Tears blur your vision as you stumble outside, gasping for air, an easy escape from the nightmare that’s suddenly become your reality.

You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stop moving. The hallways blur past you as you wipe at your eyes, rage and heartbreak settling inside you like a knife, and before you know it, you find yourself standing outside the gym, where the sounds of basketball practice echo through the double doors.

You push through without thinking, your heart pounding in your ears.

The gym is full of movement—squeaking sneakers, the thud of the ball against the court, the grunts of effort as the players practice their drills.

All of it fades into nothing as soon as your eyes lock onto Rafe.

He’s in the middle of a play, dribbling the ball down the court with that dedicated focus you’ve always admired. You hesitate, the familiar warmth of seeing him nearly enough to make you stop.

But then the memory of Leila’s words slams into you, and the anger surges back, pushing you to act accordingly.

You storm across the gym, your footsteps heavy on the polished floor. Some of the players notice you, eyes widening in surprise, but you don’t care. You’re beyond caring.

The only thing that matters is confronting him, making him face what he’s done.

"Cameron!"

Rafe turns at the sound of your voice, surprise flashing across his face. The ball slips from his hands, bouncing away as the other players continue.

You always call him by his name, that's the first thing he realizes.

All you can see is Rafe, standing there, looking at you with those eyes that you once thought held nothing but affection for you. Now, all you see is a liar.

“What’s wrong baby?” He jogs over to you, his forehead creasing.

“Was I a bet?”

His expression changes from confusion to horror. The sound of your voice, trembling with disbelief seems to have stunned him into silence. You want him to deny it, to laugh and tell you it’s all some terrible misunderstanding.

Deep down, you already know the truth.

You saw it in his eyes the second he turned to face you, that guilt, that peek of something wildly desperate.

He reaches for you, his voice breaking. "Baby, wait, let me explain—”

“Was I a fucking bet?” you repeat, your voice louder this time, edged with a desperate, frantic energy that you can’t control.

You take a step back as he tries to get closer, every muscle in your body screaming to get away from him. His eyes are pleading, searching yours for anything that might make this easier, but there’s nothing.

No words, no excuses, can make this hurt any less.

“It started as a bet,” he admits, his voice hardly above a whisper, but to you, it’s as loud as a gunshot. “But it’s not like that, I swear. I—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He flinches at your words, features pulled together, but you can’t stop. All the anger, heartbreak, the humiliation you’ve been choking down is pouring out of you in a torrent.

You can see the desperation rising in him. He takes another step toward you, reaching out, but you jerk away, 

“Don't touch me. We’re done.”

“Please, just listen,” he pleads, "You gotta—"

“No.”

With that, you leave. 

Rafe’s voice echoes as you walk away, refusing to look back.

The gym doors swing shut, muffling the sounds of the practice resuming, and you’re left in the eerily quiet hallway. The locker room is empty when you push open the door.

You head straight to your locker again, hands trembling as you fumble with the lock, desperate to escape. Before you can get it open, the door swings wide behind you, and you know, without turning around, that he followed you.

“Go away,” you hiss.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice strained. “Not like this.”

You spin around.

“You don’t get to decide that. You used me! And for what? Some sick joke with your friends?”

Rafe's hands raise as if to placate you, “I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you the truth, but I—”

“But you didn’t,” you cut him off, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “You let me believe that you cared about me, and all the while it was just a game to you. You and your friends laughed in my face the entire time, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a game,” he insists, eyes red. “It wasn't supposed to be like this, okay? This wasn't the plan. I changed. Being with you... it was the only thing that felt real to me.”

"Bullshit." You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”  

“It wasn’t a joke. It started as a stupid bet, but I never expected to actually—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I care about you. That’s real.”

It's hard not to see the boy who had made you feel special, who had made you believe in something more.

“I don’t even know who you are."

You want to believe him, to take solace in the idea that some part of what you had was real, but you can't. You shake your head again, a sob choking you as you turn away from him.

“It isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “It’s not supposed to feel like a knife in your chest.”

“Please, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Give me a chance to make this right.”

"You don’t get to have a chance. You lied to me. You used me.”

You look at him then, the boy who broke your heart. The boy who turned your world upside down with a single lie.

You know that if you stay, let him talk, you'll tempted to forgive him.

With a deep breath, you straighten up, wiping away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “I’m done.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads.

“I mean it. We’re done. I need you to stay away from me.”

The words hit him like a physical blow Rafe takes in the resolve in your eyes, the finality in your tone, and he knows there’s no coming back from this.

“I’m sorry,” he says it over and over again, voice going hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, you leave, pushing past the locker room door and walking away. A small voice inside you screams at you, to give him one more chance, but then you imagine the laughter, the cruel satisfaction, Rafe with his friends, laughing at your expense.

You can't do that to yourself, for a man.

Meanwhile, when the door slams shut behind him, Rafe leans against it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He doesn’t feel victorious.

There's a deep hollowness and this time, he doesn’t follow you. 

[luvseisagi]

— return her favor.

ft. sakura haruka x reader. wc. 3.4k

summary. when he got sick at the beginning of the week, you took care of him. now, it's you who's sick —and it's his turn to return your favor. content. fem!reader, fem pronouns used, pure fluff, boy next door!sakura, everyone likes teasing the poor boy when he blushes. inspired by s2 ep17. a bit ooc, i think. author's note. im whipped. im down bad. im head over heels . i knowwwwiknow but hes just so cute icant.. love him sm.. little kitty boy (kaji too)... :(( also im not 100% happy with how this turned out but ive been thinking about a scene like this so much i needed to write it

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) ! enjoy

you are sick.

not figuratively —you really are. you’ve caught the flu, a nasty cold, or whatever virus that's left you bedridden, feverish, for so many hours that they feel like eternity. 

when it started, you thought you were sneezing so frequently because you were allergic to something, since spring had just begun. however, it only got worse as the week went on, until you ended up in the state you’re in now.

body sprawled on the futon on the floor —your arm is folded in a weird way, your legs half under half out of the blanket—, it’s the only position you’ve found that lets you be even a little comfortable and breathe without choking every two minutes. your skin is paler than usual, except for your face, flushed pink and covered in a thin sweat layer.

you’re on the edge of delirium.

you should have seen this coming. no, you actually did see it coming, but you had such a busy week —working extra hours at the restaurant at nights, repainting the facade of the establishment after some vandals had graffitied the wall, assisting all your classes and doing all your homework—, you'd had no time for worrying about getting sick or getting medicine. 

besides, taking into account that your daily life is on the other side of the city —you live in your apartment, if it can even be called like that, only because the rent is affordable for you—, the time you spend just going to school and work and coming back home takes a considerable part of your day. 

plus, at the start of this week, your next door neighbor had gotten sick too —and every free time of your days had been spent on taking care of sakura. 

you didn’t even think about the possibility of him giving you the flu until you woke up this morning. work was already hard yesterday —even your boss had sent you home before your shift ended, since he could see how tired you looked—, and you hadn't slept more than two full hours, so all you were able do in the morning was send a text to your coworkers to ask for someone to cover your shift today and fall asleep again.

four hours later of feverish dreams and a very uncomfortable mix of heat and cold going throughout your whole body, you are so thirsty and hungry you could eat a whole menu from the restaurant you work in. however, getting up seems almost impossible in the state you are in, so you let yourself lay under the blanket a while more. 

you’re about to fall asleep again, ignoring the cries for help of your stomach, when you hear the door of your apartment open.

there’s no greeting, no warning, no announcement about who just entered without permission. but only a few people have a key to your place, so the list of suspects is short —still, of all the possible people, you definitely didn’t expect to see sakura haruka standing in the cramped little space that makes up your room.

“i brought you something.” is all he says before sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you, placing a plastic bag full of things in his lap and beginning to pull things out one by one. 

sakura is your next-door neighbor. he moved to the apartment beside yours at the beginning of the school year, just as alone in his place as you were in yours. at first, he came off as cold —maybe even a little rude— but it didn’t take long for you to realize he was just shy, especially around people who offered help without expecting anything in return. 

your first interaction had been on an especially cold evening during his first week living there. you had heard him through the wall, cursing softly and clearly frustrated —mumbling something about not figuring out how to get the hot water working. you were pretty sure he even punched the wall out of frustration after his third cold shower.

so you showed up at his door, holding a slice of leftover cake from the restaurant as a welcome gift and offering your help —partly because you’re a decent person, but mostly because you were worried the building might not survive more than a couple more punches.

“i can’t cook anything for you,” he's saying now. a few months have passed since you met “but i brought instant soup. i didn’t know what flavor you liked, so i grabbed one of each. just in case.”

he spreads the contents of the bag on the floor —six different packs of soup, a few bottles of water and sugary drinks, cold compresses for the fever, some medicine, vitamins, and a single flower.

you manage a weak smile.

“thank you” your voice is thick with congestion. it requires you making a great effort to extend your arm, and point to the end of the row of things on the floor “i get the food, the clothes and the pills. what’s the flower for, though?” 

you are too exhausted to lift your head and look at him, but you’re sure he’s blushing when he answers.

“umemiya told me to give it to you. said it would help you feel better.”

he’s clearly flustered —you can hear it in his voice— and probably grateful you can’t see how red his face is right now.

you chuckle softly.

“it does.” you say “it’s really pretty. thank you, sakura.” 

and the poor guy is now blushing even harder.

he found out you were sick this morning. usually, he would hear your door every morning before he left for school —you always left earlier than him, since your classes and your job are both on the other side of the city. but today, there was only silence. no sound of the coffee machine, no rustling clothes, no soft curses about running late. 

he might’ve ignored it, but he remembered you telling him how busy this week would be, how you couldn’t afford to miss classes with exams just around the corner. you had said all that while taking care of him when he was sick —thinking he was asleep. but he heard every word.

so when he saw light under your door and knocked with no response, he panicked. he didn’t care about being late to class, no one in furin would really care. so he grabbed the emergency key you’d given him just in case and let himself in.

the apartment was dark, except for the faint glow coming from under the door of your bedroom. you didn’t answer when he called your name —quietly, not wanting to startle you— so he stepped inside.

then he saw you

you were huddled under the blanket, your phone still in your hand like you’d fallen asleep waiting for a message or a call. your limbs stretched out across the futon, half uncovered, as if the heat was unbearable —but you were shivering like you were freezing.

it was more than obvious you were sick, but he didn’t want to wake you. you looked anything but peaceful, but you also looked exhausted, and he knew how hard your week had been. so he just stood there for a moment —then quietly stepped back out.

later, across town at furin, sakura was so distracted thinking about you, he tripped over suo twice during patrols.

“what’s bothering you, sakura?” suo asked, catching his arm before he could fall again. “you look worried.”

the two-colored-hair guy stood up straight, freeing himself from his friend's grasp —again, and mumbled a "thank you", avoiding his gaze.

“it’s nothing. just...” he’d told them about you before, but mentioning you in front of his classmates still made him go red. “yn’s sick, and i want to help her”

suo raised a brow.

"oh, i see." he said, a grin growing on his face.

“i mean, because she helped me when i was sick. and i want to return her the favor, i owe her.” sakura added quickly, now flustered.

it’s tsugeura who intervened then.

"yn? the neighbor you're always talking about?”

“i don't always talk about her!" sakura protested.

right then, as if summoned by some invisible signal, nirei, kiryu, and the others turned around, stopping dead.

"she's sick? seriously?" nirei asked, already pulling out his phone like he was about to write down a shopping list.

overwhelmed, sakura could only nod.

"i want to bring her something to help her feel better."

so, when returning to the class with the rest of his classmates, sakura found himself stuck in the middle of an impromptu meeting, surrounded by half his class in a discussion about what to bring you to feel better.

“we should buy some medicines and vitamins for her!” nirei was saying, his concern genuine. 

he didn’t even know you personally—none of them did. but since their grade captain seemed completely smitten for you, they were all too happy to help out on his behalf.

“she was shivering but looked flushed?” suo asked after hearing sakura’s description of how he had found you “sounds like a fever. we should get some cold compresses, and medicine too”

“eating is important too, in case she wakes up hungry” kiryu added “soup could be good. and a drink she likes, sugary for her to regain strength.” 

the conversation spiraled for a while, everyone adding something new they should bring to their grand captain’s neighbor —who was, definitely, not as excited as them.

it was not only the worry for your wellbeing now, it was a tight, bitter feeling in his stomach. if he had to define the sensation, he would have catalogued it as very uncomfortable and very weird.

because he didn’t like the idea of his classmates —his friends, he reminded himself— taking care of you, or buying things for you, at all. he knew they were just trying to help him, but going to your apartment and looking after you personally?

no. he didn’t want that.

first of all, sakura didn’t want them to meet you at all. yes, he’d told them about you several times —when you helped him with the hot water of the shower, the times you’ve brought him leftover desserts from your restaurant because you know he likes them, or when you went to his house, despite having a very busy day and being tired, to make sure his fever was going down and that he was eating properly. 

sakura never let on how much you meant to him —but you’re precisely that: part of his life, not theirs. and maybe it wasn’t fair, but he didn’t want to share you.

second of all, he didn’t want you to meet them either. he would never say it out loud, but the thought terrified him —that you’d fall for suo’s kindness, nirei’s soft smile or kiryu’s charm; that you’d just realize that everyone has something better than him. 

more than anything, he just wanted to stay your favorite.

was that selfish?

“i will do it.” he said, then, cutting off the class' whole conversation “i’ll buy everything you said, and go take care of her myself. after all, it’s me who gave this virus to her.” all the eyes moved to him in this new silence. then he realized he might had appeared ungrateful, so he added —“and, um. thank you all. for your help.”

none of his classmates answered, though. he felt a little intimidated by the silence.

suo was grinning, kiryu had raised an eyebrow, and tsugeura was the one who asked out loud what everyone was thinking —“¿what do you mean you gave the virus to her?”

sakura found himself out of words for a few seconds.

“well, she took care of me when i was sick, too.” he finally said, looking away “i told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted on staying the night with me in case my fever raised while asleep. i think she got it then."

“oh. so she stayed the night at yours?”

suo laughed. tsugeura asked again.

“and how close were you two, for her to get your sickness too?”

sakura realized then what they were implying. his cheeks got tinted by a pale shade of pink when he shook his head, panicked.

“no! no, it’s nothing like that. she just… she helped me, that’s all. i didn’t event want her to, my plan was to wait until i felt better, but she insisted on staying…”

but there was no turning back now. during the rest of the morning, the only thing sakura received was a constant teasing from his classmates —it was so bad, that at the end of the school day, before going back home, umemiya reached him to give him a flower for his sick girlfriend, who would definitely appreciate it, and it would make her feel better.

so here he is now, telling you how all his classmates —all his friends— helped him to choose what he had to bring for you, his cheeks and nose slightly flushed and his hand absentmindedly on the back of his neck.

and, even after the soup and emptying a whole bottle of water, your forehead is still hot and the fever remains blurring your thoughts. so, now looking him at his eyes —thinking how cute he looks when he isn’t able to hold your gaze— you don’t rethink it when straightly saying out loud:

“you look so pretty when you blush.” 

and you know you’ve messed him up, because he’s blushing even harder, and he stutters when telling you about his journey on the search of the best soup flavor. 

you can't but let slip a low giggle when he finishes his story.

“thank you so much for coming, sakura.” you thank him, knowing well he isn’t able to say anything right now —you've never seen anyone get so timid after a compliment “i mean it.” 

still shy, he lowers his head and looks at his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“it’s nothing, really. i’m just returning you the favor, for helping me when i was sick.” 

you both know that’s not true at all, but none of you mentions it. you play along, then —“still. im glad you’re taking care of me, even if it’s just because you feel you owe me.” 

sakura waits a few seconds before answering this one. he has stopped playing with his shirt, and is now distracted folding the clothes he used as cold compresses. 

he mumbles, almost unintelligibly, his reply.

“i’m taking care of you because i do care about you.” 

you giggle at his cheeks becoming even redder after his word.

“what did you say? i think i didn’t hear you, sorry.” you ask, teasing him a little.

there's a moment of silence after that—not awkward, but warm, lingering.

sakura has gone quiet again. you’re both still, the soft hum of your room’s air-conditioning the only sound between you. his gaze flickers to yours for a second, then drops to his hands again. you can see his fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt again, then still, as if trying to gather courage.

the air feels different now —not fever-warm, but tender.

to your surprise, he suddenly raises his head, and fixes his gaze on yours —grey and gold eyes shining under the warm light of your room. looks like he's lost all shyness, even if only for a moment.

“i said i do care about you. not only for a favor.” sakura repeats, now louder. and right after, all the courage he gathered seems to disappear from his body, because he, again, looks away “and i want you to feel better… so that you can, uh, come with and try that omurice im telling you about all the time."

you raise a brow. he does the same, but he looks funny, because his gaze is on the door of the closet —it looks like he's trying to tease your clothes, and not you.

“unless you don’t wanna come, of course, but i assure you you’d be missing the opportunity of a lifetime.” he adds.

a soft chuckle leaves your lips, and you can’t help it —mirroring his, your cheeks turn a pale shade of pink that has nothing to do with the fever that finally starts disappearing. 

since he opened your window, the birds’ whistling fill the room as background noise, sun rays tickling your exposed skin —you have long forgotten the blanket, due to the heat of the apartment, on a corner of your room. 

you’re sitting on the futon now, hands playing with the only compress he didn’t yet fold. you are not really sure of how, or when, has the atmosphere become so intimate, but you feel the need to whisper the next time you talk.

“yeah, sakura.” you say, eyes lingered on his black and white down eyelashes. suddenly, you feel too flustered to look at him in the eyes. 

it's an answer to the question he hasn't yet asked.

“yeah, what?” he asks, looking at you again. “you don’t wanna come?”

you shake your head, then smile sweetly. 

“yeah, i would be missing the opportunity of a lifetime if i didn’t try that omurice you tell about all the time, going on a date with you.”

sakura doesn't respond immediately.

in fact, you’re pretty sure you just broke him —he just stares at you, stunned, as if unsure if whether you just said was real or part of your fever's delirium. but then, very slowly, he smiles.

it's small, shy, but completely sincere. and for a second, it feels as if the warmth in your face isn't from the fever anymore—but from him, and the way he looks at you like you are his opportunity of a lifetime. 

you both stay quiet for a while, wrapped in warmth, in sunlight, in something that feels a lot like a beginning. small smiles in both your faces, as if sharing a secret no one but you know about.

you can’t help but stare. 

he looks so pretty —cheeks tinted pink, two colored hair disheveled, pressed reddish lips due to bashfulness, the collar of his white plain shirt revealing part of his collarbones. 

you had thought he was handsome, the first time you saw him, carrying boxes into his new apartment. then you discovered he was more on the cute side, after getting to know him and learning how sweet he is —even despite his tsundere personality.

as if refuting your trail of thoughts, he breaks the eye contact and you let out a sincere, soft giggle.

“cute.” you say, a smirk on your face.

“shut up.” his face is, again, all red under the black and white frame of his hair. he mumbles “you’re cuter.” 

then he gets up, still avoiding your gaze —that follows him, entertained, as he picks up the empty bowl of soup and carries it to the kitchen. after leaving it on the sink, he takes the medicine and a bottle of water, and passes them to you.

“come on, now, take your meds,” your expression says it everything, disgust clear on your face when he brings the pill to you. he raises both brows, and now it’s his turn to smirk “or, i will not be able to take you on that date you talk about.” 

you groan as a complain, but still take the pill he’s offering you, and swallow it with a long sip of water, obediently. 

as he walks back toward the kitchen, you can’t help but smile softly.

“if this is how you’re going to take care of me, i might have to get sick more often.”

sakura chuckles, and doesn't hesitate before replying —his voice coming lightly from behind the kitchen door, where you can’t see his face.

“are you sure about that?” he calls back  “that’s a shame, ‘cause my mom always said sick people couldn’t get kisses —and i’m not really the type to go against her advice.”

you roll your eyes, grinning, with no comeback on the tip of your tongue at all. he wins this one, surprisingly.

you never thought you’d end up falling for the shy kitty-looking boy next door —but your heart’s not exactly complaining.

masterlist.

pls lmk what u think in the comments, reblogging, through messages, asks or wtv!! feedback is important to me in these first posts and i'd appreciate it a lot 🤲🏼

﹫luvseisagi, may 2025.

[venusbyline]

Jacaerys Velaryon — Nine Moons.

chapter four (previous chapter)

— summary: After Lucerys' death and the arrival of the dragonseeds, Jacaerys no longer wants to be betrothed with Baela. He wants to marry his twin sister, even if it means going against Rhaenyra's decisions and sealing suffering in your life and his.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin sister!reader

— type: dark, angst, sequel to Sleep (but can also be read as a standalone series)

— word count: 2.6k

— chapter's warnings: female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), forced pregnancy, past rape/non-con, dubcon somnophilia mentioned, abusive and toxic relationship, manipulation, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, gaslighting, blood and injuries, argument, crying, curse words, implied underage sex, referenced Jacaerys Velaryon/Baela Targaryen, forced marriage mentioned, dark content, canon divergence. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: Nine Moons is a shortfic, sequel to the one shot Sleep, written for Kinktober. Both Nine Moons and Sleep can be read as standalone.

— author's notes²: Each chapter will have its own trigger warnings.

— author's notes³: It took a while longer than usual! I'm having a hard writer's block because of some personal things, and now I'm full of WIPs 🤣🤣 Anyway, please tell me your opinions and theories. Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

— tagging list: @neobangverse @hufflepuffxsworld @cwallace02sblog (Anyone who also wants to be tagged in the next chapters, tell me! ❤️❤️)

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Nine Moons masterlist • Jacaerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

You had been inside the Small Council room during all that time, your hands shaking due to the tension and tears streaming down your face while you waited for the hours to pass, your gaze focused on the windows as if you expected to see some dragon flying over the surroundings at any moment.

The servants had already come to try to calm you down and bring you something to eat, their efforts failing brutally every time your crying fit got worse or when you pushed the dishes away, not caring about the noise of the wares hitting the floor or the women's frightened expressions.

When you threw down the fourth glass of water in the last four hours, Baela burst through the doors. "You need to loose that temper."

"Shut up..." You whined, turning to the opposite side and facing the windows again, wanting to get rid of any lecture your cousin and sister-in-law could give you.

"You are acting like a crazy little girl." She growled, approaching you without worrying about your form huddled in the chair. Her gaze dropped to the broken kitchen utensils on the floor, looking at the servants in the corners before staring back at you. "And you are scaring the maids."

"I do not care." It was a lie, you did not usually treat any servants that badly and you knew you would regret it later.

Baela sighed with frustration, sitting down in the chair next to you. The fingers of her right hand tapped the marble table as she rested her chin on the other palm. Even though you were not talking, there was heavy air between the two of you, your sobs irritating her and her calm behavior making you more frustrated.

You would have preferred that it had been your own mother who had come to try to lecture you, but she was too busy panicking in her chambers after the Maester checked that everything was physically fine with your little brother Aegon III. The boy had arrived in Dragonstone very terrified, having flown on his little dragon for the first time, his clothes damp with his own piss due to his panic.

"We still do not have any news about any of them, including Jace."

More tears appeared in your eyes after Baela's words. You wanted to scream, to knock down everything you saw in front of you. Jacaerys should not have gone looking for Prince Viserys II. Everyone was almost certain that your youngest brother might already be dead, but Jace was stubborn and gone to the battle anyway, instead of letting that mission only for the Rhaenyra's soldiers.

"He cannot die, Baela." You whispered, hands shaking and stroking your own round belly to ease the painful twinges that were bothering you during the past minutes. "I cannot lose another brother."

Baela remained silent for a while, taking deep breaths to control what she would say next, not wanting to get into trouble with anyone during such a catastrophic situation. Her head ached slightly, thinking about the order Jacaerys made before leaving with Corlys. "Jace asked me to give you that."

You frowned when Baela handed you a necklace with two pure gold pendants, one of them was a waning crescent moon and the other was a sun, this last one decorated with a small red diamond in its center. It was very delicate and matched perfectly with the velvet dark red dress you had been wearing since Jacaerys left.

"I presume these symbols have a special meaning to both of you." Baela's tense tone returned your attention to her, nodding silently and wiping away the falling tears with your free hand. "He asked me to give it to you over if he did not come back."

"Then you should not have shown me it yet." Your voice sounded rude and you continued to hold the gift with a firm grip. "He will come back. Everyone will come back, including Viserys."

Baela sighed, massaging her temples. The atmosphere became even more tense, you keeping admiring the necklace and the other princess keeping sitting next to you, thinking about something to say that would not worsen the terrible relation between the two of you since Jacaerys got you pregnant.

She understood very well about the orders Jace gave to her when he was leaving the castle, her wrists were still bruised from the way he held them and threatened her life. Even though she wanted to just ignore her sister-in-law and hole up in her own chambers to deal with envy and worry that consumed her feelings, Baela knew she should not go against what her betrothed had told her to do.

She needed to help you stay sane and ignore the hatred she felt about you carrying Jacaerys' bastard children. She needed to obey him not just because he told her to. Baela needed to help you because if something happened to Jacaerys' life, you were the next heir to succeed your mother to the Iron Throne.

It was already night when Baela managed to convince you to go to bed. Your eyes were reddish from crying and your belly continued to pain, as if the babies were sharing your fears and moving inside your womb more roughly than usual.

The necklace that was once held by you was now decorating your neck, fingers caressing the pendants and a few sniffles echoing in the private room.

You did not pay much attention to what Baela mumbled when she was helping you change the clothes. All you knew was that her gaze lingered a little longer on your big swollen stomach, frowning with the same doubt that Jace had been thinking just minutes before the argument and sexual moments in your chambers during that morning.

The princess' confused face turned pretty obvious that Rhaenyra was not sharing the secret details of your pregnancy with her too.

"Jace believes… He believes the babies are twins."

The white-haired girl widened her eyes, clearing her throat and looking away, concentrating on placing the white linen chemise on you, the larger size fitting perfectly on your current form. "Twin pregnancy, such a surprise." Baela feigned enthusiasm, tying your clothes carefully, noticing how your fingers kept caressing the sun and moon symbols decorated on your throat. "He really corrupted you, did not he?"

The rhetorical question raced your heart, your head aching as did your stomach. A part of you was grateful that she was behind you, taking charge of dressing you. You would not know what to say if you were face to face.

When you did not respond anything, Baela continued. "I mean... He raped you. Forced you to get pregnant by him. He is still betrothed to me... And yet you are more worried about his life than the safe of your little brother who was probably kidnapped or even killed when the Pentoshi cog carrying him and Aegon III was captured."

"Viserys is not dead." Your argument did not seem convincing even to your own ears. "And Jace is only engaged to you because our mother is making him to, and also—"

"He corrupted you." The repeated words were stark and raw, your eyes filling with tears as you walked away from the hands helping you dress, a mix of anger and sadness filling your brain. "Do not you realize how Jace is manipulating you? Making you think you need him, making you want him." Baela growled, rubbing the palm over her face, the last of her patience now disappearing. "He forced you into this situation, took advantage of you when you were sleepy and vulnerable. And now you are crying because you are afraid he is going to die!"

"Jace is my twin... How do you expect me to turn against him? To not forgive him? To not fear about his life?”

"Yeah, I know he is your twin. But he is also the one who forced you to carry these things." She pointed to your belly, which was already about six moons.

A bitter and vulnerable chuckle escaped your throat, crossing arms and turning to face Baela. The girl's full lips were pressed into a thin line, both of you controlling the anger they felt at going through all that.

If only Jacaerys had not gotten you pregnant, or if only Baela had given up on keeping the betrothal...

"You are jealous..." The spiteful and sudden demeanor was not well received by your cousin, who rolled the eyes and scoffed, waiting for the next hypocrisies said. "You are jealous because Jace loves me, because he will love my children and—"

"Did you see that?" Baela pointed at you without even letting your rant end, heartbeat quickening in anticipation of the bitter words. "He already got into your mind enough. Now you think I am the villain and not him. That is what he wanted. He wanted you to resent me for envying you, to forgive him for raping you."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" You yelled with salty tears streaming down your cheeks, flushed and warm from panic, sitting up in the bed and sobbing like a child. "Stop! Just stop saying that word... Please."

Baela hummed another scoff and was about to open her mouth to retort your request, being brutally interrupted by the sound of some guard knocking on the door to your chambers with frightening force. The two princesses were silent until the man's voice came out. "Your Graces, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon has returned."

The cuticles of your nails were ripped off by your own teeth every second that passed without further news. You refused the Maester's order to remain resting in bed, being banned to enter the room until the Maester and the other servants took care of whatever happened to Jacaerys during the battle.

Your hands were trembling, nervous for the moment when someone would open the doors and allow your visit.

Most of the things said there were not understandable behind the big doors. All you could hear were the movements of the servants, your twin brother's screams of pain and some comforting words that Rhaenyra gave him.

No one had let you see his injuries. In fact, no one had explained almost anything to you about what had happened. All you knew was that Jacaerys had been very attacked by the enemies and your youngest brother Viserys had not returned along with Rhaenyra's allies.

"You should be sleeping, it is late." Daemon's lecture increased the discomfort inside your stomach and you crossed arms to hug your own shoulders, wanting to continue focusing on the confusing sounds behind the doors instead of what your uncle and stepfather had to say. "The Maester has already said that your presence inside is prohibited."

You remained still where you were, however, this time you allowed yourself to growl in disbelief. "How can I go to sleep when I do not know what my brother's condition is like?"

Daemon crossed his arms almost as if he was imitating you, his big and strong body leaning against the doorframe. "Your twin was hooked like a fish in the shoulders. He was arrowed several times in the right part of his body. His dragon is also injured and I doubt the creature will survive for more than a month after all of this."

"Do not... Do not talk that way. Vermax will be fine." Daemon did not retort against your overdone optimism at first, limiting himself to just sighing.

The more Jacaerys' screams echoed during the procedure, the more desperate you became, moving from side to side, leaving the pain in your womb aside so you could focus on the well-being of the child's father. You could hear Jace's screams of pain and pleas for the Maester to let you in there, all requests being ignored by everybody there.

Your fingertips tightened around the necklace he had given you, and Daemon broke the silence once again. "It is inappropriate for a pregnant woman to witness a somewhat bloody scene like that. You know..." Your uncle told you the obvious and you clenched the jaw, not wanting to keep hearing anything about it.

Obviously you knew too well the reasons why you were not there to help your twin brother's suffering. And that did not make that any easier. At that moment, you did not worry about the baby — or babies — you were carrying, your attention was on ensuring that Jacaerys would stay alive until the end of the night.

He had promised he would not let you die in childbirth. So he could not die now either, right? He said during the morning that you were born together and would die together... And that was a promise the Gods could not ignore.

"Your mother would hate to hear this, but I am glad Jacaerys is suffering at least a little." Daemon mumbled nonchalantly and you almost threw up in front of him, now staring at him with your face paler than before. How could he say something so cruel? "Oh, are you really surprised that I think that? Or that I am owning up to my cruelty?"

Your throat burned with bile that threatened to come out, not answering until you were sure you would not vomit the food you had managed to ingest. "B-Both."

The whisper was weak, tremble... Almost humiliating. And Daemon found it funny. "Both..." He repeated with a mocking tone, thin lips pulling into a smirk. "What did you expect, dear niece? Your twin brother has been making my daughter's life a hell since his obsession with you became more unhealthy than it already was."

You shook head, letting go of the jewelry to take three steps back when Daemon dared to take three steps towards you. "You are wrong. These are the effects of the war. Jace was not like this before Lucerys' death."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps this obsession was already the start of a fire from the moment your lives were conceived together, and your younger brother's murder was just what Jacaerys needed to allow himself to show the true insane dragon that always existed inside him. Perhaps inside you too." He continued with those long intimidating steps, no more space for your legs to move back. "Jacaerys' soul was probably already sick since the moment you left him alone and waiting inside your mother's womb for a little while during the childbed and—"

"What?"

Your question uttered in a loud voice echoed off the large walls. Daemon, who was already close enough with his shadows almost covering yours, suddenly stopped. The man narrowed the eyes, staring at you with a look that could either indicate genuine perplexity about your reaction, or could indicate that he was just trying to escape the spark of curiosity and rage that he lit in your heart.

Daemon did not move himself, not even when the doors of the chambers where Jacaerys was being treated opened, revealing Rhaenyra and Baela's with with bloodstained clothes and tense facial expressions, now worsening even more after realizing something was happening between you and the older Targaryen.

Rhaenyra called your name loudly, but you ignored her, keeping looking at Daemon. "What is wrong, Daemon?" Your mother asked and walked towards the two of you to pull her daughter away, being stopped by her husband's hand.

"He said Jace was waiting for me inside your womb during the childbirth." Rhaenyra swallowed hard as she listened to your voice sounding as shaky as it did when you were just a little girl getting lectured for some poorly executed innocent prank. "Why the hells would Daemon say that, if you always told to all of us that Jacaerys is your firstborn and he was born before me?"

[bandgie]

Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse. 

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young. 

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only. 

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

[chris-prank]

A desperate yandere in your area

Chapter 3 : A new pet

Sub pathetic yandere x GN reader

Previous chapter - Next chapter

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

CW: NSFW, praise kink, teasing, porn with plot, petplay, obsessive behaviour, yandere, mention of stalking, giving head/eating out, dom reader, receiving reader, bottoming reader and use of protection

(Even if the reader is bottoming at some point I made it vague enough so you can imagine which whole is being used.)

Word count: Over 3K

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

As stupid as it was, you didn’t call the police.

There you were, sitting in front of your phone, debating if you were making the right choice or not. You finally took it and called the coffee shop, cutely named “Brioche d'Or”. You jumped in your seat when a cheery voice answered.

“You have called Brioche d’Or! I’m Pierre, how can I help you today?”

“Can I speak to Jacce…please?”

“Yes absolutely, could I get your name?”

You told the employee your name and heard shuffling on the other end of the line, before you could faintly hear him say “You’re more popular than I thought!” You had to suppress a chuckle, because by that time, Jacce had taken the phone from Pierre. 

“H-hey, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes, at what time could you come to my place today?”

Silence fell on the other line, except for his heavy breathing. Even if you weren’t in front of him, it's like you could feel the warmth of his breath through the handset.

“Is 3 pm alright?” his voice sounded choked, as if he had runned out of air. 

You hummed in response and swiftly told him goodbye, hanging up before he could answer. Your face was burning hot and your heart was hammering in your chest. You looked at the time. You had five hours until he arrived. 

***

The moment you heard knocking on the door you took a deep breath. The man standing at your doorstep was towering over you with the most nervous, but strangely excited, expression on his face. You didn't even give him the chance to open his mouth as you pulled him inside. When the front door was shut close, Jacce leaned in on you– expecting you to kiss him. You awkwardly turned your head to the side while pressing your hands on his chest to prevent him from getting closer. He tilted his head, confused, but you could see some arousal in them, surely due to your touch.

“Let's go to the living room.” You whispered, feeling like your lungs were crushed by the proximity. 

As you sat down on the couch, Jacce remained standing, giving you quick glances as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

“You can sit, you know.”

To your surprise, he sat on the ground instead of taking a place beside you or in any other chair available. You could feel your lower half warm up instantly at his actions. You scolded yourself mentally for being turned on by a simple action, but it didn’t prevent you from imagining the most blasphemous scenarios. You cough the thoughts away before opening your mouth again. 

“Ok so, I thought about you becoming my… you know…”

It was out of the question for you to say “pet” or “servant”, this whole situation was already lewd enough with him kneeled down before you. Luckily Jacce nodded without saying the quiet part out loud. 

“I guess it was pretty obvious since I invited you here… " You laughed awkwardly as you felt the heat rise up to your face. 

In the meanwhile, Jacce kept staring up at you with this submissive look, accentuated by his down turned eyes. He was really making it hard for you to think straight. It was almost like his body language was screaming at you to kiss him already. 

"Does that mean I can… live with you from now on?" He asked, tilting his head. 

You froze at the question. Even if this guy had clearly shown that he wished to be yours, you didn’t realize it meant living together as well. You blamed your touch depraved self for not thinking any of this through. 

"Oh em… I didn’t think about that part… Don’t you have an apartment or something?”

“I have a house actually, but it’s ok… I want to be with you.”

You look at him stunned, how could he talk about leaving his house behind like it was nothing!? Especially in this economy! Maybe he was hoping for you to move in with him one day, but you had other things to worry about for now. 

“I guess you could live here if you promise to do what I say."

Jacce nodded with clear eagerness, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate as he spoke again. “I p-promise! I’ll do anything just to stay by your side. " 

As threatening as that last part sounded, you felt honored that someone would go that far just for you. You also mentally winced, you had no time to unpack all the childhood trauma that could have led you to think this way. 

“So no more stalking if I tell you to?”

He seemed to ponder at first, but ultimately agreed, “I won’t need to anyway since I am yours now, but y-yay I’ll stop.” 

“And no more secretly touching yourself while watching me?”

He shook his head up and down quickly. You could feel the lust and impatience taking control of him the more time he was spending in your presence, his entire face getting flustered by the second. You wanted the same thing then him at that moment, but it was crucial to establish rules and you had one more in mind. 

"Before settling this, I need to make something very clear. I know you want to pleasure me and all, but I don’t want you to force yourself when you’re not in the mood. "

"But—"

"Ah ah. No but, If I’m not one hundred percent sure you want it to, we won’t do anything. No arguing with that. Say that you will always be honest."

Despite Jacce being visibly shocked, not understanding why you wouldn’t want to use him without his input, a part of him was touched. If that wasn't proof of your love for him, he didn’t know what else could prove it. 

“I will… always be honest about my mood…” He said slowly, almost like a child being forced to admit a fault they committed. 

“Good and now that’s cleared, do you want to continue where we left off last—.”

“YES!”

You were caught off guard by the sudden rise of his voice, but you were more surprised by his lack of action. You expected Jacce to jump on you like a dog in heat, but no, instead he was twitching his hips forward into the air with his tongue slightly sticking out. He had been a well behaved boy ever since he got here now that you think about it. He certainly deserved a treat. 

You started unzipping your pants as the kneeled man watched your every move, his body trembling in anticipation. You took your pants off, followed by your underwear, grinning at the little whimper he let out at the sight of your private parts. You tapped your thighs, and the man immediately crawled to settle between your legs, licking his lips. You couldn’t help but grin at the lewd display.

"Pleaseee can I lick?" He whined as his gaze was still fixated on your arousal. 

A soft yes escaped your mouth, as you prepared yourself mentally. He leaned forward and took your core into his mouth, slowly swirling his tongue around while his hands caressed your thighs.  

“Good boy.” You cooed. 

Jacce moaned and continued to move his head eagerly, covering every bit with saliva. He felt a wave of ecstasy wash over him as he tasted you on his tongue. His free hand reached down to pull his cock out of his pants, making it stand tall against his clothes stomach. The second he was done, Jacce’s hands went to cup your thighs again, gripping the soft flesh possessively. He was using his mouth like a pro, making you wonder if he had done this before or if he just… practiced with toys.

After a while of him servicing you like an obedient little puppy, you couldn’t hold back the burning desire residing in your guts anymore. 

It was too much. He was too much.

So you placed your hands behind his head, slowly taking a fist full of his hair. The soft gesture made Jacce moan between your legs, thinking you were petting him as a result of his devotion. If only he knew that it was hiding a less innocent intention. 

"Jacce I really need to… "

He seemed to finally understand what you were trying to do since his grip on you disappeared and he stopped moving his head. Jacce stared up at you through his eyelashes, waiting for you to sink into your desires. You leisurely started to move your hips so as not to startle him, but quickly picked up the pace. The man under you kept making loud sounds of pleasure despite your roughness. The vibration on your sensitive skin stimulated your arousal even more. Even with the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, Jacce’s cock couldn’t stop leaking. If his mouth wasn’t occupied right now, he would have gone on and on about how much he loved you. 

While lost in the overwhelming sensations, your mind was suddenly reminded to check on the guy choking under you. You swiftly looked down with your eyelids halfway closed. If anything, his rolled back eyes and the fact that he was still trying to touch you in other ways were good indicators that he was enjoying this as much as you were. In spite of his visible enthusiasm, you pulled away to let him breathe, which made him whine in disappointment. Now that his head was out of the way, you were also able to see his swollen dick pulsing like crazy, precum oozing out of it to complete the look. Knowing he could get this hard by simply servicing you was making him even more attractive. 

"Look at you… not touching yourself because I didn’t allow you too. " You answer between shortness of breath, “I think you deserve to… to feel good with me now.” 

***

You lowered yourself until the tip of his glans brushed against your hole. You wrapped your fingers at the base of his cock and patted it against your entrance. Jacce winced at the contact, or in better terms, the painful lack of it. 

“Please please please, let… let me be inside. Pleaseee.” He begged, trying his hardest to keep his hips down. 

“You need to be patient, Jacce.” You reminded him while ignoring his pleas. 

You weren’t much better to be honest. The thought of fucking him stupid clouded your mind since that time you gave him a hand job. Your self control was all for show since you didn’t want to look like a desperate pervert in front of him. That was his job. 

After some more teasing, you finally sunk down onto his dick, gritting your teeth as it stretched you out. The both of you let out moans at the pleasurable sensation. The feeling of his hard cock inside you was already overwhelming all your senses. 

“Does it Ngh– hurt? Do you w-want… to stop?”

Despite his worried tone, his facial expression and heavy breathing gave away how blissed out he was. He also kept making small whines ever since his cock was surrounded by your warmth, not to mention that his cock also pulsated non stop against your walls. 

“I’m ok. You're just… thick.” You answered vaguely, too embarrassed to admit how he was stuffing you up perfectly. 

Pride overtook him, knowing that his dick would definitely grace all of your sensitive spots. That’s what he was made for, to be used by you until he breaks and to be an obedient pet that feels fulfilled by making you happy. 

Only when you felt your insides adjusted to his shape did you raise your hips slowly, before dropping yourself with all your weight. You kept that pace, all the while admiring his face twist in pleasure. 

“I’m yours!" He cried out instinctively in a quivering voice, "a-all yours!"

To keep yourself bouncing rhythmically, one of your hands went to his shoulder. You cupped his face with the other, gently caressing his cheek to compensate how ruthless you were with his cock. Jacce looked at you through his messy hair and fuck he had the most dazed expression. He couldn’t help but whimper loudly and nuzzle his head into your touch. You expected him to say something again as he opened his mouth, but instead he started sucking on your thumb as he kept up your gaze.

“Such a good puppy for me.” You praised while bouncing faster. 

The mess under you moaned and gasped as new waves of pleasure hit his nervous system. The sound of your ass hitting the flesh of his thigh became louder from your swift movements, almost overshadowing the cute sounds Jacce couldn’t keep to himself. He had stopped sucking your finger, to your disappointment, but it looked like he was actually trying to say something now. You leaned closer, making sure to let your warm breath graze his skin. 

“Come on, I know you can use your words.”

The mess under you made multiple whines in response. You were so cruel to force him to speak like a proper human being when his brain was clearly far too gone to create any coherent sentences. You glanced down and saw how hard he was clenching his hands, both resting onto the soft material of the sofa. So you slowed down a bit, allowing him to speak his mind. Jacce swallowed the drool that had accumulated in his mouth, before answering as best as he could. 

“If you go Mngh— this fa-fast, I won’t… Ah ah… be able to keep it in like a good bo— Unff.” His breath had drastically quickened, confirming his complaints. 

“So sensitive.” You teased, while sneaking a hand under his shirt to go play with his nipples. 

“Aargh— mmff!” Jacce leaned up to trap you in a strong embrace, preventing you from stimulating him further, “w-would be too m-much.” He sobbed into the fabric of your clothes. 

Taking pity on him, and totally not turned on even more by his behavior, you wiggled your hand out of between your chests and cupped the back of his head. Jacce's body and grip eased up as the gentle tingle of your touch took its effects on him. 

“Thank’you…” He muttered in that whiny tone that made you go crazy. 

“Now, how about I let you choose the rhythm?” You grin mischievously, knowing the kind of reaction it would get out of him. Just as you expected, Jacce’s eyes opened wide and you could see a glint of excitement in them. 

“A-are you sure? I… I really can?” 

You hummed in response while guiding one of his hands to your waist. To feel his trembling touch against your exposed skin made your stomach twist in that familiar urge to turn him into a crying mess. But no. You wanted his first time with you to be more relaxed. The humiliation of making him cum prematurely would come later, if he’s on board with it, which you're pretty sure he would. 

Meanwhile, your puppy didn’t need more for his fingers to dig into your flesh and his hips to tentatively roll up to meet with your pelvis. Jacce’s eyes closed from the spark of pleasure, but only for him to force them open so he could admire your complexion. He had spent enough time imagining your face alone in his room, and now that he had the real deal in front of him he was going to enjoy every second of it. 

“Lov’you… M-mine…ngh—” He muttered in a whiny voice, only to repeat mine over and over again, louder each time. 

You couldn’t tell if it was a statement on his part or if he was looking for your approval. Either way you found the contrast between his possessive words and his pathetic attitude endearing. He could say that as much as he wanted, but you both knew that, at the end of the day, he was more yours than anything else. 

Jacce started grinding up on your ass desperately, as if you were a magnet he couldn’t pull away from. His brain couldn’t think of anything else than the ecstasy coursing through his body every time his shaft was engulfed inside you once more. For someone who wanted you to go slow in the fear of cumming prematurely, he was going strangely fast now. Both of your hands grasped at his shoulder as not to go flying off because of the unfaltering movements of his hips. It would undeniably leave marks, especially with how your fingernails were pressed into his skin, not that he minded. It would be concrete proof that he was yours and that this wasn’t just a hyper-realistic wet dream. 

Jacce’s body shuddered uncontrollably as he tried his best to not cum right then and there. He needed to be a good boy for you. Meaning he needed your permission to cum, especially since it would be his first time with you. But more importantly, he needed you to climax first. To think he didn’t get the chance to taste it on his tongue earlier made him pout for a second. He was more than grateful that you wanted him to feel good too, but still, your pleasure was his priority!

“I-I need ngff… your c-cum Ah ah— p-please cum with me!”

Lucky for him, you were also close to your breaking point, the feeling in your guts ready to explode into a million pieces. 

“Yes puppy, l-let’s cum together.” You whisper back with a breathless voice.

One of your hands left it’s post to touch yourself down there, as best as you could anyway considering the way you were bouncing up and down on his cock. Your insides instantly tightened around him as sensation, pulling new sounds out of him. It was just the right push to tension to finally let go. 

Your body froze, and you had him in a vice grip, his dick and his shoulder alike. With your head thrown back, a shrill moan escaped your lips. This was the only signal Jacce needed to finish as well, his hips snapping back in short but swift motions. He emptied every last drop of his cum inside the rubber condom. His last moan, if it could even be qualified as such, was mixed with the start of your name, but ended with a pathetic whine. 

As Jacce came back to his senses, he could feel an uncontrollable smile forming on his lips. It was the first time you came because of him and he was feeling euphoric. Now that he got a taste of being the source of your guttural desires, there was no way he would ever leave you. He could feel his heart beating drum in his ears as his infatuation for you grew exponentially. He placed lazy kisses on your collar, his way of hiding his manic grin, and mumbled words of love. 

The wet sensation on your skin grounded you back to reality as you leaned into him. Never in your life you thought you could have the opportunity to make a grown man submit to you like this and, despite the unorthodox circumstances that brought you together, you were truly satisfied. As the aftershock of tiredness hit you, Jacce nuzzled his head into your neck, like a dog wanting to be petted for doing a trick right. 

“I’m… really yours now?” He said in a hush tone. You had noticed that every time he was in a more submissive headspace, his voice would have a whiny quality to it. Not to the length of being annoying, but just enough to sound cuter than his usual raspy voice. 

You lifted your hand to rub his back in circles.

“Yes.” 

Jacce moaned happily in response, leaning his heavy self more onto you.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

So so sorry for the late update! I hope it was worth the long wait!

Link for the chapter on Ao3

Also no drawing for this chapter! 😔 Maybe I’ll post a drawing based on something that happen in this chapter later on

[leahrintarou]

Hi there! How are you? I love your works and I wanted to request a Dabi or Hawks x Reader NSFW oneshot please? Also could you have the font not too small? It’s just I can’t read anything in small fonts.

✩₊˚.⋆ BESTFRIEND'S BROTHER - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: unprotected sex, oral (dabi receives), soft/hard! dom dabi, female reader with female anatomy, fingering, a lot of sexual tension, makeout sesh, stimulation & penetration, uhh...thats it lol

Word Count: 6.2k (no regrets tbh lmao)

Author's Note: hi! i hope you enjoy. this ended up being WAY longer than expected. if you have a request, send it in and i'll be happy to write it!

the weekend at y/n's best friend's house always felt like an escape from her regular life. it wasn’t just the familiar sound of the tv in the background or the scent of home-cooked meals—it was being part of a family that felt like a second home. she dropped her bag by the couch and took a deep breath, already feeling more relaxed.

"glad you're here," fuyumi grinned, flopping onto the couch with her usual laid-back energy. "this weekend’s going to be awesome. we’ve got a full fridge and no one’s gonna bother us."

y/n laughed, sinking into the chair across from her. "just like old times," she said, already feeling the comfort of the place sink in.

"yeah," fuyumi replied, glancing toward the stairs. "oh, heads up—my brother’s back from college. so, if you run into him, don’t let him get on your nerves, okay?"

y/n shrugged casually, though the mention of touya made her stomach flip just a bit. there was something about him—he had this quiet, brooding presence that always made her feel a little uneasy. not in a bad way, just… aware of him. "touya? he’s cool. no big deal."

fuyumi snorted. "alright, just don’t let him pull any of his usual stunts."

the day passed easily enough—video games, snacks, and laughter filling the hours. but as night fell and the house grew quieter, fuyumi went upstairs to sleep, leaving y/n alone in the living room. she was flipping through channels, trying to wind down, when she heard footsteps approaching. looking up, she saw touya standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"still up?" he asked, his voice low and casual.

y/n sat up a bit, startled by his sudden appearance. "yeah, couldn’t sleep," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

touya stepped into the room, moving with that easy, quiet confidence he always had. he sat down on the couch next to her, but not too close—just enough that his presence was noticeable. the air between them felt heavier, but not uncomfortable.

"how’s college going?" he asked, glancing at her briefly before looking at the tv. his tone was neutral, like he was making small talk out of habit.

"good," y/n replied, shifting to a more comfortable position. "busy, but good."

touya nodded, leaning back slightly. "yeah, i figured. you seem different, though. not as jumpy as you used to be."

y/n blinked, caught off guard by his observation. "i was never jumpy," she said, though her voice lacked confidence. she couldn’t deny there had been times when just being around him had made her feel awkward, but that had been years ago, right?

touya smirked, giving her a sideways glance. "sure you weren’t."

y/n rolled her eyes, leaning back into the couch and crossing her arms. "okay, maybe a little, but you’ve always had this weird, intimidating vibe, dude."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "weird and intimidating? great combo," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a teasing grin. "yeah, well, you’re not that scary once you get used to it," y/n shot back, feeling more comfortable as their banter eased the tension in the room.

"good to know i’ve lost my edge," he said, his tone light but laced with that usual dryness of his.

the room fell into a quiet lull after that, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt awkward. y/n found herself more at ease, the earlier tension slipping away the longer they sat there. she flicked through the channels aimlessly, her focus split between the tv and touya’s quiet presence beside her.

"you come here a lot," he said after a moment, not looking at her this time.

"well, fuyumi’s my best friend," y/n replied easily. "this place feels like a second home."

touya gave a soft hum of acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else. he seemed to be considering her words, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the tv screen. y/n let the silence hang, not sure what else to say, and for once, it seemed like touya didn’t either.

eventually, he stretched and stood up, breaking the quiet between them. "anyway, i should head to bed," he said, running a hand through his hair. "goodnight, y/n."

"night," she replied, watching as he moved toward the stairs.

he paused in the doorway, glancing back at her with a smirk that she couldn’t quite place. "oh, and y/n?" his voice was casual, but there was a glint of something mischievous in his eyes.

"yeah?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "i’m just curious. you sure fuyumi’s the only reason you come around here so much?" his tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it that made her heart skip a beat.

y/n blinked, caught off guard. "what’s that supposed to mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. she tried to play it cool, but she could feel her face heating up just a little.

touya shrugged, his smirk deepening. "nothing, just wondering. you’ve been coming here for years—figured maybe there’s more to it."

"dude, seriously?" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "it’s for fuyumi. don’t flatter yourself."

he chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her reaction. "alright, alright. just asking," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "goodnight, y/n."

"goodnight," she shot back, watching as he finally disappeared up the stairs, leaving her sitting there, heart racing a little faster than she’d like to admit.

even though she knew he was just messing with her, the question lingered in her mind longer than she expected. he was teasing, sure—but it felt like he wasn’t completely guessing either. the thought made her stomach flip, but she shook it off, trying to convince herself it was nothing.

turning off the tv, y/n headed to bed, telling herself she wouldn’t overthink it. but as she lay there in the quiet house, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something between them had shifted, even if just a little.

---

"we'll be back later tonight, y/n!" fuyumi said as she gave y/n a quick hug. she was currently going to some kind of convention with her younger brother shoto. y/n insisted that it be just the two of them go for some bonding time and fuyumi honestly appreciated her consideration.

"yeah, be safe." y/n smiled and fuyumi's closed the door after following behind shoto. y/n went to the kitchen to wash up the dishes. afterall, she'd just finished eating lunch with fuyumi. she was lost in her own thoughts until she felt a presence just behind her, making her jump slightly.

“you always zone out like that?” touya’s voice came from directly behind her, teasing and low, startling her out of her thoughts.

y/n spun around quickly, clutching the dish towel a little tighter than necessary. “geez, touya, you scared me!” she said, trying to calm her racing heart. he had this way of sneaking up on her when she least expected it.

touya leaned against the counter, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. “didn’t mean to. just seems like you’re always deep in thought when you’re alone.” his eyes flicked down to the dish towel in her hands, and he raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t have to do the dishes, you know. we’re not that formal.”

y/n shrugged, turning back to the sink to finish rinsing the last plate. “just trying to be helpful. figured fuyumi would appreciate it.”

he made a small noise of acknowledgment but didn’t move from his spot. she could feel his gaze on her as she dried her hands, the air between them once again filled with that same quiet tension from the night before. but there was something different about it this time—something that made her more aware of his presence, more aware of the way he stood just a little too close.

“so,” he started, his tone casual but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity, “what are you doing today? since you’ve got the place to yourself.”

y/n turned to face him, leaning against the counter opposite him. “not sure yet. maybe just relax, watch some movies. it’s kind of nice having some quiet time.”

touya tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. “and you don’t mind being here alone? in my house?” the way he said it, so casual yet laced with something almost playful, sent a small shiver down her spine.

“it’s fuyumi’s house too,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “besides, i’m used to it by now.”

he chuckled softly, the sound low and a little rough. “fair enough. but still... feels different when it’s just us, doesn’t it?”

y/n blinked, not sure how to respond to that. the way he looked at her, so direct, so unapologetically confident, made her feel like he was pulling at something she wasn’t ready to confront.

“you’re... really good at making things awkward, you know that?” she finally said, crossing her arms and trying to play it off with a laugh.

touya’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “oh, am i? didn’t realize i had that effect on you.” his voice dropped slightly on the last word, and y/n felt her cheeks heat up.

“that’s not—ugh, never mind,” she muttered, turning to put away the towel, hoping he didn’t notice her flustered reaction. but of course, he did.

he pushed off the counter and stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “relax, i’m just messing with you,” he said softly, his voice a little too close to her ear. “but you’re kind of fun to tease, you know.”

y/n shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” she said, her heart beating faster than she would’ve liked. there was something about the way he was acting today—something that felt more intentional, more focused, like he was testing the waters.

“we’ll see,” touya murmured, stepping back finally, giving her some space. “anyway, enjoy your quiet day,” he added, turning toward the stairs. but before he left the kitchen, he paused, glancing over his shoulder with that same unreadable look from last night. “and y/n... if you get bored, you know where to find me.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. “yeah, yeah. don’t hold your breath.”

touya chuckled and disappeared up the stairs, leaving her standing there, a mix of confusion and something else swirling in her chest. it was just touya being touya, right? always teasing, always pushing buttons. but for some reason, it felt like there was more to it now, like he was waiting for her to react in a way she wasn’t ready for.

shaking her head, y/n tried to brush it off and went back to cleaning up the kitchen. but even as she went through the motions, her mind kept drifting back to touya’s words, to the way he looked at her, and to the strange feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was right. something between them had shifted, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face what that meant.

---

after an hour of flipping through channels and trying to distract herself, y/n finally gave in to the boredom that had been creeping up on her. she glanced at the empty living room, then up toward the stairs where touya had disappeared. she really didn’t want to admit it, but the house felt too quiet without fuyumi around, and—whether she liked it or not—touya was the only other person here.

with a resigned sigh, she pushed herself off the couch and made her way upstairs, her footsteps feeling louder than usual on the wooden steps. as she reached the top, she hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly on touya’s door.

“what?” his voice came through the door, sounding both mildly irritated and amused at the same time.

y/n rolled her eyes and pushed the door open slightly. “i’m bored. you wanna watch a movie or something?”

touya, who was lying on his bed with his phone in hand, glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. “you’re that bored, huh?” he said, smirking as he sat up.

“yeah, well, you’re the only one here,” she shot back, leaning against the doorframe. “so, you in or not?”

he stretched lazily, then stood up, his smirk still firmly in place. “sure, but let’s watch it in here. i’ve got a better tv.” he motioned toward the flat screen mounted on his wall.

y/n hesitated. watching a movie in his room felt... different. more personal. but before she could think too much about it, touya had already grabbed the remote and flopped back onto his bed, patting the space beside him. “come on, i don’t bite. unless you ask nicely,” he added with a teasing grin.

she rolled her eyes again but walked in, sitting down on the edge of the bed, trying to keep some distance between them. “just pick something,” she said, crossing her arms in a show of nonchalance.

touya scrolled through the movie options, his gaze flicking toward her every now and then, clearly enjoying the way she was trying to act casual. “how about a horror movie?” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “you know, something to get your heart racing.”

y/n shot him a look. “if you think i’m gonna get scared and cling to you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“who said anything about clinging?” he smirked, selecting a movie without waiting for her answer. the opening scene flickered onto the screen, the eerie music setting the tone.

they watched in silence for a while, but y/n couldn’t ignore the tension building in the room. she was hyper-aware of touya’s presence next to her—the heat from his body, the way he stretched out comfortably while she sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, trying to act unaffected. every now and then, she’d glance at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the faint smirk that never seemed to leave his lips.

about halfway through the movie, during a particularly quiet scene, touya shifted closer, his arm brushing lightly against hers. y/n tensed up, her heart picking up speed despite her best efforts to keep her cool.

“you okay there?” touya asked, his voice low, teasing. “you seem a little... jumpy.”

y/n scoffed, trying to play it off. “i’m fine.”

but then, his hand moved—slowly, deliberately—and rested on her knee. the touch was casual, almost innocent, but it sent a spark through her that she couldn’t quite ignore. she swallowed hard, focusing on the screen, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her react.

“you sure about that?” touya asked, his voice soft and almost mocking. his fingers brushed lightly against her knee, a barely-there touch that felt far more intimate than it should have.

y/n bit her lip, her heart racing now. she couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just messing with her, but either way, it was working. she could feel her composure slipping, her breath coming just a little faster.

“you’re... annoying,” she muttered, trying to sound unaffected.

touya chuckled softly, his hand still resting on her knee. “am i? or are you just bad at hiding how flustered you get around me?”

her eyes snapped to his, and she saw the challenge in his gaze, the way he was watching her closely, waiting for her reaction. he was pushing her buttons, testing her limits, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending it wasn’t getting to her.

“i’m not flustered,” she shot back, her voice a little too defensive.

“sure you’re not,” he murmured, his thumb brushing ever so lightly over her skin now, the sensation sending a shiver up her spine.

y/n clenched her fists, determined not to let him see how much he was affecting her. “you’re ridiculous,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the screen, though she couldn’t focus on the movie anymore.

touya leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “maybe. but you’re not moving away, are you?”

her breath hitched slightly, and she cursed herself for not pulling away earlier. he was right—she hadn’t moved, hadn’t told him to stop. and now, with him this close, his touch lingering, it was harder to remember why she hadn’t.

“i—” she started, but the words caught in her throat as his hand slid up just a little higher, resting on her thigh now, his fingers curling slightly against her skin.

the tension between them was almost unbearable, the air thick with something unspoken, something that felt like it had been building for a while now. y/n’s mind raced, torn between the urge to push him away and the undeniable pull that kept her frozen in place, her pulse quickening with every second that passed.

“still think i’m annoying?” touya’s voice was barely above a whisper now, his lips dangerously close to her ear, the teasing edge in his tone softened by something else—something darker, more serious.

y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “yes,” she whispered back, though the word came out shaky, betraying her.

touya chuckled, his hand squeezing her thigh gently before finally pulling away, leaving her skin tingling in the absence of his touch. he leaned back against the pillows, his smirk firmly in place, but there was a new intensity in his eyes, one that made her stomach twist in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.

“you’re fun, y/n,” he said, his voice casual again, though the tension in the room hadn’t fully dissipated. “but you’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are.”

y/n exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. “shut up,” she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words.

he laughed softly, turning his attention back to the movie, but y/n could still feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken challenge lingering in the air between them. whatever game they were playing, she wasn’t sure if she was winning—or if she even wanted to.

as the movie continued to play, the room felt heavier, thick with unspoken tension. y/n tried to focus on the screen, but her mind kept drifting back to the way touya's hand had felt on her thigh, the lingering warmth of his touch making it hard to think straight.

he didn't say anything for a while, content to watch the movie-or at least, that's what it seemed like. but y/n could feel him stealing glances at her, could sense the quiet anticipation in the air. it was as if they were both waiting for the other to make the next move, teetering on the edge of something neither of them could ignore any longer.

her heart raced as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the way his smirk had softened into something less teasing, more serious. his eyes weren't on the tv anymore- they were on her, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"you're really not into this movie, are you?" touya's voice cut through the quiet, low and knowing.

y/n huffed, shifting in place. "i'm watching," she insisted, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. she could feel the tension growing with each passing second, her pulse quickening as the weight of his stare made her hyper-aware of the space between them.

or rather, the lack of space.

"really?" touya's tone was teasing again, but there was something deeper in it now-something more focused, more deliberate. "cause it seems like you're a little... distracted."

y/n's breath hitched as he shifted closer, his knee brushing against hers now. she could feel the heat radiating off him, the pull between them growing stronger with every second.

"maybe it's you who's distracting," she shot back, her voice steadier than she expected, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. not yet. not when her heart was pounding this fast.

touya chuckled, the sound low and rough, and she could feel the way it vibrated through her. "you think so?"

finally, she turned to face him, and the moment their eyes met, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. the teasing smirk on his face had faded, replaced by something darker, something she wasn't sure she could resist any longer. his gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes, the silent question clear.

she swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "what are you doing, touya?"

"what do you think i'm doing?" he murmured, his voice softer now, but laced with a kind of confidence that made her stomach twist in ways she couldn't ignore. his hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, the touch so soft it sent a shiver down her spine.

y/n's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. she knew where this was headed, knew that if she didn't stop it now, there'd be no going back. but the more she thought about it, the less she wanted to stop. the pull between them was too strong, the tension too thick, and it felt like they'd been building to this moment for longer than either of them wanted to admit.

"touya..." she whispered, but the protest in her voice was weak, barely there.

he didn't say anything, just leaned in a little closer, his thumb brushing against her lower lip, making her breath hitch again. his eyes were locked on hers, and in that moment, everything else faded away-the movie, the room, the fact that this was fuyumi's house. all that mattered was him, and the way he was looking at her, like he was daring her to close the distance.

and then, without thinking, she did.

it was like something snapped inside her, all the tension that had been building between them finally breaking free. her hand reached up, fingers curling into his shirt as she pulled him toward her, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was more desperate than she'd expected.

touya responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer. his lips were warm, firm, moving against hers with a kind of urgency that matched the wild thrum of her pulse. she could feel the heat of him.

y/n gasped as his teeth grazed her lower lip, sending a jolt of electricity through her, and touya took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, the kiss growing hotter, more intense. her mind was spinning, her heart racing, and she could barely think straight-only feel the way his body pressed against hers, the way his hands roamed up her back, pulling her impossibly closer.

she wasn't sure how long they kissed- time seemed to blur, the movie forgotten in the background. all that mattered was the heat between them, the way his lips felt against hers, the way his hands gripped her waist like he didn't want to let go.

eventually, they pulled apart, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath. y/n's mind was racing, her lips tingling, and she couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"you-" she started, her voice shaky, but touya cut her off with a soft, breathless laugh.

"you started it," he teased, though his voice was husky, his breath warm against her cheek.

y/n rolled her eyes."shut up," she muttered, though there was no heat behind it.

touya's grin widened, his fingers brushing against her cheek again, softer this time. "you don't want me to," he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was something softer in his gaze now-something that made her heart skip a beat. "and you know that."

she didn't respond, just leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the way his lips felt against hers. because as much as she wanted to pretend this was just a fluke, something told her that whatever had just started between them wasn't going to end anytime soon.

as their slow kiss deepened, the tension between y/n and touya became almost unbearable. every touch, every brush of their lips seemed to pull them closer, the heat building between them in a way that felt impossible to ignore. y/n’s hands instinctively gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him toward her with more urgency as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate. touya responded in kind, his grip tightening on her waist, his hands sliding down to her hips as he pulled her flush against him.

the soft, teasing touches from before had given way to something far more intense, more primal, and y/n could feel the shift between them. the air was thick with unspoken desire, and with every kiss, every touch, it became harder to think clearly, harder to hold back.

touya broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, his voice rough with barely contained need. "you’re driving me insane, sweetheart. if you’re having second thoughts, say it now—or else I’m gonna assume that you actually hate me." there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he was giving her one last chance to stop, but the way his hands gripped her hips told her that he wanted this just as much as she did.

y/n’s breath was shaky as she looked up at him, her pulse racing in her ears. the question hung in the air, and for a moment, she considered pulling back, considered the implications of where this was heading. but the moment she met his gaze, filled with desire and something deeper, she knew that there was no going back now—not with the way her body responded to him, not with the way her heart raced every time he touched her.

instead of answering with words, y/n kissed him again, harder this time, her hands slipping up to tangle in his hair as she pressed herself against him. it was all the confirmation he needed.

touya groaned softly into the kiss, his hands sliding from her hips to her waist, pulling her closer as he shifted, guiding her onto his lap. the feeling of being so close to him, straddling him as his hands roamed up her back, sent a thrill through her that made her shiver. she could feel the heat radiating from him, the growing intensity of his touch as he explored her body with a newfound sense of urgency.

his lips moved to her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin, and y/n couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped her. her body was reacting to him in ways she hadn’t expected, and the way his hands gripped her thighs, kneading the flesh through the fabric of her bottoms, only made her want more.

“touya…” she breathed, her voice shaky as his lips continued their assault on her neck, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. she felt his teeth graze her skin, not quite biting but enough to make her moan again, her body arching against him instinctively. "please..." she practically whined when he only continued to tease her.

she felt the strain of the tented area just beneath her sex. she took advantage of this, forcefully grinding down against him and touya let out a strained moan. "watch it, y/n." he warned, his teeth closing to pinch an area of the skin on her neck. she ignored his words, doing it once more, making him draw back with a deep moan.

touya removed his hand from y/n's waist, his digits firmly grasping her throat. "what did fuck did i just tell you, angel?" he mutters through a heavy breath. she allowed a smile to appear onto her lips. he needed her just as much, but he was dead-set on getting y/n to corrupt before him. he pulled away from her, holding her gaze for a long second.

lust.

the two we're the epitome of that very word. "let's see if that quick mouth of yours is only good for talking shit." touya released y/n from his grip and she slid her straddling position further down to his thighs. he used his hand to gently grasp her nape as she made quick movements to pull down his sweatpants and breifs. she was met with his teased and desperately hard length.

she looked up at him, holding his gaze as her tongue lapped up the leaking pre-cum. touya let out a breathless moan at the warm pleasure to the sensetive area. his grip on her nape tightened when her lips clasped around him, lowering her head as she gradually took in more of his length. she let her jaw relax and shut her eyes tightly as she tried to focus on taking in as much as she could.

"f-fuck." touya moaned, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he fought to hold his composure. "more." he moaned, breath hitching in his throat when y/n lifted her head before the tip of her nose met with his lower abdomen once again. y/n continued this motion, only stopping to take a deep breath. touya held y/n's nape, not allowing her back up. she reached for his hand, interlocking his fingers with his own. she tried her best to hold out for a few more seconds and finally gave his hand three squeezes. touya imeedietly released her and she came up with a gasp, glaring at him.

"good job, angel." he smiled, eyes focused on her reddened lips. when touya's eyes flickered back up to her own, he saw the small frown on her lips. "don't be like that. I'll let you fuck me, but i tell you what to do." he leaned closer to her, placing his lips against hers. "remember that." he watched as y/n rolled her eyes, making him let out a small laugh.

"say's who?" y/n questioned, allowing touya's fingers to trail just beneath the hem of her shirt. his fingers were warm against her even warmer skin, causing her to shudder slightly. "who do you think?"

"what makes you so confident touya?" it was a genuine question on y/n's part. every action he made was never hesitated and neither were his words. "because you haven't stopped me," he says, fingers trailing just beneath the waistband of both layers of clothing. "not even when i do this." two pads of touya’s digits pressed against her bud, massaging the area as y/n leaned into his touch and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

she let out a moan of his name and touya pressed his lips against the shell of her ear. "if you don't tell me exactly what you want, angel -- i cant give it to you." touya continue and y/n wrapped her fist around his wrist. she whined, head feeling foggy from the pure feeling of bliss and pleasure. she used a free hand to wrap around touya’s length but he held her hand, stopping her from doing anything.

"you can have me, sweetheart, but you gotta come first."

that only drove y/n to grind herself against his fingers. touya was amused by how desperate she was becoming. he was desperate himself, but he'd hold out for however long it took if it meant getting to see y/n fall apart just from his touch.

as she continued, her moans heightened and her breath quickened, making touya pull his fingers away. "touya, are you trying to kill me?" she groaned. "now why would i ever want that?" the smirk on his lips made y/n feel more vulnerable than before. she needed him and they both knew that. "let me make you feel good." y/n nodded to his words with pleading eyes and lifted herself up a bit to remove her restricting layers of clothing.

y/n let out a small cry at the new sensation of him being inside of her. she was hesitant to relax and let herself take in the rest of him. touya reached for her hands, interlocking his fingers in-between her own. "relax, you can take it. i know you can." while it seemed that he was trying to comfort her, his tone said otherwise.

it was taunting-- teasing even. like he was daring her to do so. like he wanted to prove that he would always be above her when it came to this unspoken competition thats been the blueprint of their relationship since the first time they met. she did just that.

touya let out a sigh of satisfaction at the engulfed warmth against him. his strokes were tedious and slow. with every one, the smile on his lips grew wider since y/n's was completely unraveling beneath his touch. he attempted to control his breaths, but if he was being honest with himself, he could topple over the edge given the right movement.

he swore to himself that he wouldn't let that happen. not until he got y/n to finish first. that task was incredibly easy since the minute he pulled her down to him to give her a long and lustful kiss, y/n bit down on his bottom lip due to the pleasure. the change in positioning allowed touya to reach that spot that never failed to make her entire being weak.

"touya.." she drew out a long whine. he hummed, adjusting for her to face him. she held his gaze as he spoke. "words, n/n." he said, waiting for her to reply. she only let out a small whimper at the lack of pleasure. "what? you goin' dumb on me?" he teased, making her gare. she shook her head, not even caring how weak she looked when it came to he and his words.

"tell me what you want. fuyumi might be coming back soon. i can't give you what you want if she's here and able to hear her bestfriend losing her mind over-"

"shut up, touya." y/n groaned. "make me come. that's what i want. is that good enough for you?" she finally spoke. he analyzed her features, her eyes welled with a coat of tears. "please." her voice barely louder than a whisper.

he didn't bother to reply and only gave her what she wanted. what he wanted as well. but she could never know that, could she? pleasure-filled noises filled the room, the heat of their bodies fueling them all the more. touya held y/n close to his chest as she took one of her hands from his own to ball his shirt into her fist. anything to ground herself to reality. he was pushing her over the edge physically and mentally. call it a sick game of his, it was being enjoyed by the both of them.

the sounds bouncing off of the walls being proof of that.

his toungue dragged over her neck as the warmth in her abdomen heated. the sensation riveting in her core caused the tightening coil to finally snap. y/n cried out and touya gripped her hips tightly as she clenched down on him. "y/n." he groaned at the action. he quickly lifted her from his length despite her reluctance and pleas. he replaced the void with his fingers, shutting her up and helping her riding out her high as she grinded her bud against his palm. she moaned, eyes shut tightly.

as she finally began to settle from her high, she was about to let herself relax, but touya spoke. "that's selfish of you, y/n. besides, don't you think you deserve what you worked so hard for?" his hand was wrapped around his length. y/n wanted to say no. damage his high ego even if it was just a small amount. yet, she couldn’t.

his expanded pupils met with her own as his eyelids were low, capturing every movement she made, including the one where she used up the last bit of her energy to lean down to his lap and once again taking in the current most sensetive part of his entire being. he mumbled small praises to y/n as she pleased him. she let out a hum around him when his hand firmly gripped her nape to pull her off of him.

"y/n, i'm gonna come." he warned. like mentioned before, the blueprint of their relationship was some sort of competition, so when touya couldn't physically stop his body from going over the edge, the warmth of his arousal spouting from the tip of his length and meeting y/n's tongue just before she swallowed, he knew that he no longer was above y/n. they were even once again and y/n knew that. infact, it was her goal.

she released him, chest heaving after holding her breath for such a long period of time. she used the back of her hand to wipe away the remains of his come that had made its way to the corner of her lips. "can't let me have anything can you?" touya rolled his eyes, pulling y/n towards him.

she couldn’t even have control over her weakened body as her head met with his warm chest.

"you can't tell fuyumi about this, touya." y/n said, now serious as they both began to settle down from the adrenaline endorsed moment.

"why would i spoil the fun, angel? I'd love to see how long you can keep your cool."

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[daddydindjarin]

Chapter 1: After Midnight

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Reader Rating: M- nothing in this post, but it'll get there, so we're going to mark all the shots as M. A/N: The way this show has sparked my imagination back into full gear is absolutely insane. I've not been able to get these characters out of my head, and the FMC feels like she jumped into life fully formed. If it wasn't for @lowlights and @write-and-buried I wouldn't have had the courage to write or post so I'm so thankful for them listening to my ramblings about these dorks. And as always, the dividers are by @firefly-graphics

---

PTMC Emergency Department, 2:13 a.m.

You’ve been at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center for eight years, and the hospital hums in your bones by now. You started here as an intern, matched fresh out of UNC Chapel Hill, more nerves than skin. Somehow, you stayed—intern year, residency, boards, senior year peds elective that cracked something open in your chest. Now you’re two years into a pediatric emergency medicine fellowship, and you’re still covering every inch of the ER. Peds. Adults. Whatever rolls through the ambulance bay.

You’re good at it. Everyone says so.

It doesn’t make tonight easier.

The air smells like vomit and bleach, and the kid from North 2 coded in triage before you even touched him. Seized twice. You got him back, got him upstairs, but it took something out of you. Something you’re pretending you didn’t need.

The charting desk blurs in front of you, your fingers hovering uselessly over the keys. Your body is moving because it has to, but your brain…your brain’s somewhere else. Blank. Fuzzy. You’re wearing betadine on your sleeve like a medal, your hair’s half out of the tie, and your stomach’s been twisting empty for hours.

The paper coffee cup appears like a miracle.

You blink. Steam curls gently into the fluorescent light and you can smell the sugar before the coffee, and you know, one sugar, no cream- exactly the way you drink it when you’re too tired to argue with yourself. The hand that brought it disappears from your periphery, and when you glance sideways, Robby is already leaning against the counter.

He’s still in scrubs and a half-zipped jacket, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His hair is messy in that way that it only gets after he’s run both hands through it four times in a row. He signed out hours ago.

“You looked like you were about to fall off the stool,” he says, as if it explains anything about why he’s suddenly here.

He places something else on the desk, and the crinkly yellow packaging is immediately recognizable. It’s a granola bar- oats and honey, your favorite, and he doesn’t even say anything about it. Just places it on the counter like he does this every night.

You take it without thinking, not bothering with a thank you. You’ve known him too long for that. Since your intern year, when he used to watch your traumas like he was waiting for you to sink or swim. Robby never said much during those moments. Just handed you gloves, tied your gown for you when your hands were shaking. Once, when you were crying in the stairwell after a loss, he said, “You stayed. That mattered.” You think about that more than you should.

He was the first one you left a sticky note for.

You’d written a question on a chart you felt dumb about- basic trauma math, something you already knew but doubted yourself on anyway- and you drew a little cat beside it, giving a thumbs up. You meant it as a joke, a little self-directed kindness. You didn’t expect a reply.

Later that day, your chart came back with a short answer and a doodle of a matching cat, this one with a stethoscope.

You’ve been trading them ever since. He doesn’t know you save them all.

“You’re off shift,” you murmur around a bite of granola.

He shrugs. “Dropped something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You dropped something six hours ago and came back for it now?”

“Wasn’t important ‘til I realized it was gone.”

You snort. He doesn’t smile, but his mouth twitches at the corner. You sip the coffee (still hot, thankfully), and you try not to wonder how long he stood in the staff lounge waiting for it to finish brewing. How long he watched the monitor board before walking over.

His knee knocks yours under the desk, light, unthinking. He doesn’t move away. Neither do you.

“You finishing notes?” he asks.

You nod, resisting the urge to scrub your face. “Trying.”

“You want help?”

It’s a soft offer. He already knows the answer- you always finish your own charts. But you shake your head and smile anyway, just barely, because the question still matters.

You both go quiet. Not awkward, just familiar. There’s a hum to it, like a routine you’ve both walked into without planning. He doesn’t speak again, just leans on the counter beside you while you finish chewing and try not to let your hands shake on the keyboard.

And when you shift sideways, just barely, just enough for your arm to rest against his, you don’t say a word.

He doesn’t move away.

Five minutes later, the granola bar is gone, and so is the worst edge of your headache. You’re not okay, exactly, but the world feels a little more manageable with him nearby. A little less like it’s closing in on you from all sides.

You start typing slowly, your fingers still stiff, but moving now. The chart is basic enough- chest retractions, fever, positive RSV. You double-check your med orders, update the time of transfer to PICU, then hit sign and save. It only takes two minutes, maybe three, but he stays through all of it.

When you look up, his eyes are on you.

Not watching you work. Not judging. Just… there. Steady. Present.

You lick the granola dust off your fingers. “You really came back for something you dropped?”

He lifts a shoulder like it doesn’t matter. “Something like that.”

You let the silence stretch between you. There’s a smudge of blood on your sleeve you hadn’t noticed until now- faint, rust-colored, streaked across your cuff like it didn’t want to be remembered, and you tug it down over your wrist.

He notices. Of course he does.

“You need a break,” Robby says. It isn’t a question.

“I need to finish notes.”

“You’ve been sitting in the same spot for twenty minutes and finished one.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s not wrong. You’re only half here. The rest of you is still in that trauma bay, still hearing the mother’s voice break when her toddler stopped seizing and went limp in her arms.

He shifts closer, subtle but unmistakable. “Come on.”

“I’m on shift.”

“You’ve got five minutes. I’ll cover.”

You almost laugh. “You’re not even on tonight.”

“I think I can cover you in my ER for 5 minutes,” he says, already turning like he plans to guard the door if Jack comes looking.

You glance toward the break room. “You just want the last of the good coffee.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You saying you didn’t want the one I made you?”

You’re not sure how to answer that. The truth is, yes, you did want it. You always want things from him that you don’t know how to name.

You stand as if it were never even a question, following him towards the break room.

The hallway is dimmer here, further from trauma. The sound of suction and crying recedes behind you as you push open the door to the staff lounge. It smells like someone’s burned popcorn and someone else’s vanilla lotion. There’s a half-full pot of coffee on the warmer and a chair in the corner with your name on it. Not literally, but it’s the one you always take when your legs give out halfway through a double shift, and tonight is no different as you collapse into it.

Robby follows you in. He doesn’t sit, just leans against the counter and pours himself a cup- like it’s his personal kitchen, like this is just another shift you’re working together, not some strange middle-of-the-night orbit you’ve both chosen to fall into.

“How’s Abbott?” you ask, assuming correctly that Robby had stopped to see him before finding you. You’d seen him come in at 7 when you started your second half of your double, but not since, attesting to how busy the pit always stayed.

Robby sips. “Still teaching residents how not to kill people.”

You grin. “So angry, but effective.”

He nods. “And bored out of his mind. He said to tell you that if you don’t start bringing muffins for night shift again, he’s going to start baking his own, and no one wants that.”

You let your head fall back against the chair, choosing to ignore the fact that Jack knew Robby would find you. “I’ve created a monster.”

Robby snorts. “More like unleashed one. Abbott’s been talking about buying an apron. Pink. With ruffles.”

You laugh, sharp and sudden. “If that man bakes half as well as he burns through residents, I’ll be out of a hobby.”

Robby leans back, arms crossed. “Guess you better get back to baking, then.”

You grin. “Maybe I will.”

His eyes flicker down to your hands. He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth curves, just barely. It makes you feel warmer than it should.

He sets his cup down. “I’m gonna grab a blanket. Don’t move.”

You watch him go.

The moment he’s out of the room, your chest tightens like you’ve been holding your breath. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You never have, not around him. It’s been years, and still this soft ache in your chest hasn’t dulled. You told yourself it was a crush. Told yourself it would fade once you stopped needing his approval, once you finished residency, once you got your fellowship, once you found something real.

But he keeps showing up with coffee. Keeps remembering what you like. Keeps bringing granola bars without asking.

And you keep saving every damn sticky note he leaves you.

You’re still thinking about that when he comes back in, a thin fleece blanket in his hands, and he tosses it toward you. It smells like the linen closet. A little like him.

“Five minutes,” he says, settling into the chair beside yours. “Close your eyes.”

You do. Just for a minute. Maybe two.

And when you feel your head start to fall sideways, when you feel your temple brush his shoulder and he doesn’t shift away, you let it happen. Just for five minutes.

The blanket is thin and hospital-issued, scratchy in the corners, but it’s warm. You pull it tighter around your shoulders, feet tucked under yourself in the awful break room chair you’ve collapsed into a hundred times. Usually alone and vibrating from caffeine and cortisol. Tonight, your pulse is steady. You blame the granola bar.

Robby doesn’t speak. He doesn’t shift, just sits there beside you, long legs stretched out, hands folded loosely in his lap like this is something the two of you always do.

You wake up, god knows how much later, to the sound of someone knocking softly on the lounge door.

Robby stirs beside you. You shift from where you’ve fully slumped against him without realizing it, your cheek sliding off his shoulder. He doesn’t move away until you do.

Kim pokes her head in without waiting, gently calling your name. “Five-year-old with an asthma flare in South Three. She’s stable but climbing.”

You rub your eyes, belatedly realizing you were smearing your mascara. “On it.”

Her gaze flicks to Robby, eyebrows arched. She doesn’t say anything, but you can read her smirk like it’s printed on a chart. You’ve been on the receiving end of enough nurse gossip to know when you’ve just handed them material.

“Thanks, Kim,” you say, voice scratchy. She disappears, and you stand, stretching out your back, wincing at the pins and needles in your feet. Robby stands with you, slower.

You hand him the blanket. “Thanks. For this.”

He just shrugs. “Figured I owed you one.”

“For what?”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t answer.

You step out into the hall together. You should split off. He’s not on shift, you’ve got a patient waiting, but you hesitate for a second. There’s something about the quiet between you, the way it softens your jaw, makes the ache in your shoulders a little more bearable.

“Get home safe,” you say.

He says your last name like a secret kept between the two of you. “You too.”

He always calls you that when he doesn’t want to say something else.

You turn down the hallway toward South Three, and you don’t look back.

You’re halfway to the locker room when the day shift rolls in like a slow, caffeinated tide.

Princess is the first one through the bay doors, still in her coat, coffee thermos under one arm, muttering about traffic on the Fort Pitt bridge. She spots you immediately and tsks your last name like a disappointed aunt. “You look like death and poor decisions.”

You grunt. It’s the most language you’ve got left in you.

“Did you even eat?” she asks, already digging into her bag. She doesn’t wait for an answer, just slaps a protein bar into your palm and points a perfectly manicured finger at your chest. “You will eat this before you drive. Swear on my ovaries.”

“Your what now?” you mumble.

“Swear it.”

You nod, obedient and sleep-drunk.

Then Perlah breezes in behind her, laughing before she even hits the desk. “Don’t listen to her, ngulót, she gets dramatic when she skips breakfast.” She gently pinches your cheek on the way past. “You okay?”

“Pulled a double,” you say. “Still standing.”

“Barely,” she mutters, and reaches out to fix the collar of your fleece, hands warm and quick. “You going home or collapsing in the on-call room again?”

“Home. I think.”

“Good.” She leans close and whispers, “Jack left twenty minutes ago. Said if you didn’t get out soon, he was coming back to carry you.”

You snort. “Sounds like him.”

“Did you tell her what he called that kid in trauma last night?” Perlah asks Princess, eyes alight.

“Oh my god, yes. ‘Little bastard’s lungs are doing a samba.’ Right in front of the mom!”

You groan into your hand. “Why do we let him near people?”

“Because he saves them,” Dana answers from behind the triage desk, voice steady as always.

You turn, don’t even remember pivoting, and there she is. Reading the board like she can feel which rooms need her without walking in. Her eyes flick to you and hold.

“You’re still here?” she asks, not unkind.

“Just leaving.”

She nods once. No fuss. No scolding. “Go. Rest. You’re no good to me burnt out.”

It’s the closest she’ll come to I worry about you.

You clutch the protein bar a little tighter.

Then there’s a shift in the air.

You don’t hear his footsteps, but you feel him.

Robby’s voice calling your last name is somewhere behind you, low and easy: “Morning.”

You turn.

He’s in a clean set of scrubs, hair damp from a shower, badge clipped to his collar. He smells like eucalyptus shampoo and maybe cinnamon. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you stuff them in your pockets.

“Morning,” you say.

He walks past you toward the desk, nodding at Dana, fist-bumping Perlah, stealing Princess’s coffee without asking. Everyone’s talking around you, but all you hear is the echo of your head on his shoulder. The weight of the blanket. The heat of the coffee cup in your hand.

Robby glances back just once, mouth quirking. “Go home before you end up unconscious in triage and really get the pit treatment.”

You should say something clever. Something funny. Something like I could be unconscious anywhere, really. The on-call room, my room…your room.

Instead, you watch him walk away.

It’s almost 6:45 a.m. by the time you leave the hospital. Pink is just bleeding into the sky over the Allegheny, and the wind cuts sharper than it did last week. You don’t have a hat, but you pull your coat tighter around you and keep walking toward your car, parked somewhere near the construction zone that’s been eating the south lot for months.

Your body is running on crumbs. You didn’t even realize how hungry you still were until you hit the air.

You unlock your car, slide inside, and grip the steering wheel with stiff fingers. You sit there for a long time just breathing. Thinking about the coffee. The granola bar. The way he didn’t even ask before handing it to you. Like he already knew.

You think about the first sticky note. The way he drew the little stethoscope on the cartoon cat. The way you stuck it in the pocket of your white coat and never took it out.

You think about his shoulder under your cheek. Solid. Warm. Unmoving.

You think about marching back into the ER where you know he’ll be clocking in soon, and asking him what he really came back for.

You don’t.

Next ->

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Alucard’s New Obsession: More Babies || Alucard ||

<Aka a King alway's get's what he wants>

A/n: Getting back to my old obessions

You had just gotten the twins to sleep.It had taken hours. Your son Jonathan had floated away twice, Lilith your daughter had shifted into a cat mid-diaper change, and both of them had teamed up to make a telekinetic mess of the nursery.

You were exhausted.

Completely, utterly done.

So when you had finally crawled into bed, letting out a deep sigh of relief, you expected to get at least a few hours of rest before the chaos started again.

What you did not expect was for Alucard to immediately pull you into his lap, bury his face into you neck, and murmur against your skin—

“I want another one.”

Your entire body tensed.You slowly turned your head, staring at him.“…What?”

Alucard grinned, nipping at your shoulder.“Another child,” he purred. “Or two. Or three. As many as you’ll give me, my love.”

You had gawked at him, your eyes twitched.

“Alucard,” you said slowly, “we literally just got these two to sleep.”

Alucard shrugged. “And?”

“AND?!”You sat up, staring at him in complete disbelief.“We have two children already—TWO—who do not sleep, who float, teleport, and shapeshift, and you want MORE?!”

Alucard chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your reaction.“Yes,” he said simply.

You let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a scream as you shoved a pillow in his face.“NO.”

Alucard just laughed, catching the pillow effortlessly before tossing it aside.

“You say no,” he mused, pulling you closer, “but I see how you look at them. How you adore them.”

You bit her lip, avoiding his gaze because.

…Damn it.

Of course, you loved them.More than anything.But—more babies? Now?!

“You’re insane,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

Alucard hummed, kissing the side of your neck.

“Mm. And yet, you love me anyway.”

You snorted. “Unfortunately.”

Alucard chuckled.

“Y/n,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low, smooth, dangerous.

You tensed again.You knew that tone.

That was his I will seduce you into giving me what I want tone.

And unfortunately, it worked too well.

“Just one more,” he whispered. “One more little life. A child born of you and me. Is that so much to ask?”

Your face was warm...to warm.“YES, IT IS,” you hissed.

Alucard just grinned.

He wasn’t going to let this go.Not tonight.Not ever.

Because if there was one thing Alucard was certain of—It was that he wanted more.

More children.More of you.More of this impossible, beautiful life you both had created.

And by the way you were already fidgeting, already avoiding his gaze, already falling apart under his touch—

He knew.It was only a matter of time.

And Alucard?

Alucard was very, very patient.

You had lost count of the nights.

The nights where you barely got a moment to breathe before Alucard was on you again.

The nights where your body was already exhausted, but his hunger—his insatiable, relentless desire for you—never waned.

Where he took his time breaking you apart, only to do it all over again.

And again.

And again.

Because this wasn’t just about pleasure.This was claiming.This was possession.

This was a King ensuring his Queen gave him exactly what he wanted.Another child.More of you.More of them.You had tried—tried—to keep up with him.But Alucard had no limits.No need for rest.No need for patience.

And every night, he pushed you further, made your body sing beneath him, left you so thoroughly ruined that you couldn’t even remember your own name.

Only his.

Only the way he whispered, mine against your skin, the way he devoured you slowly, the way he made you feel worshiped, adored, owned.

Every time you thought he was done—

He wasn’t.

He would stroke his fingers over your sensitive skin, whisper something low, dark, intoxicating in your ear.

And then he would take you again.Until your body was too weak to fight it.Until you had no strength left to resist.Until you simply let it happen, let yourself fall into his arms, let yourself be consumed.

And he loved it.

Loved how pliant you became under him.

Loved how wrecked, how soft, how utterly helpless you were in his grasp.

Loved that no matter how many times he claimed you, filled you, marked you.You would always let him.

By the time the sun rose, you were barely functioning. You laid tangled in silk sheets, your body aching, exhausted, still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure.

Alucard, satisfied but not nearly done with you yet, trailed lazy kisses down your shoulder, his crimson eyes dark with something dangerous.

Something obsessive.Something hungry.

You groaned, muffling your face into the pillow.

“Vlad,” you muttered. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Alucard chuckled, far too pleased.“Yes, you can.”

You whined.“You’re going to kill me.”

Alucard smirked, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Then I will simply bring you back, my love.”

You groaned again.

But when he pulled you flush against him again, his fingers already teasing against your skin, his lips tracing every inch of you.

You didn’t stop him.

Because deep down, you knew.You had already surrendered. And he knew it too.

Beside's with how good he was pleasing you, with how he was treating you like a goddess.

How could you possibly say no.

[alexaloraetheris]

Oh boy, I feel like it's time for a post nobody will like.

We all know clothes are getting worse. Recently I found some jeans I bought in high school, and since I lost weight recently I tried them on and they fit, so I'll be wearing them once we get out of the Hell season.

But I took them and compared them to the most recent pair of jeans I bought, and... Honestly the difference in quality is so fucking stark it made me want to give up on life. The jeans I wore in high school have gone through everything. I'm talking half of Europe here, because one of our teachers was pretty big on school trips everywhere she could get the money for. They've been washed, tumbled, survived an actual car crash and they're still good.

The most recent pair I machine-washed ONCE, everything else was hand-wash only. I babied them to the max because they made my ass look like was on Instagram. Do you know what they look like now?

They're full of fixes like these. They lasted less than a year on their own. I got another decent year out of them SOLELY because I kept fixing them. And fixing them again. The crotch alone I had to fix SEVEN TIMES. I COUNTED.

And these weren't cheap jeans! C&A jeans tend to be around 40$ these days, and I got these for about 30 with a discount. I expected them to last me AT LEAST a few years, because those high school jeans? THEY'RE THE SAME FUCKING BRAND.

Considering this was the quality I was getting for nearly 40$ I figured I might as well get the same quality for 15$ and downloaded SHEIN. I didn't get jeans from them but I got some light, fluttery summer pants in the style that, honestly, I fucking love. I got three pairs for the price of one C&A jeans, and I am aware I will have to baby them even more, because out of the five pairs of pants in total I have bought on SHEIN only ONE is made of the fabric that I might be brave enough to machine wash. And with SHEIN continually getting sued for using sweatshops I probably won't be getting those pants again.

So what to do with that shitfuck situation?

I am insanely lucky my grandma knew how to sew really well and didn't mind me looking over her shoulder as long as I was quiet. I am aware that's not a skill everyone has, but quite frankly? When nobody has any money and even paying big bucks for clothes does not guarantee any kind of quality, and even fucking THRIFT STORES are full of just junk now, I think it's time to face the facts.

You need to learn how to sew.

I'm not talking about sewing your own clothes, though if you can and you have the time and patience, it's probably the best option (good luck finding decent fabric, because we can't even find THAT anymore unless you're ordering from fucking Belgium). I'm talking about fixing up seams and sewing on a patch, little repairs that make your clothes last. It might be junk, but with sewing you can make it last twice as long for the price of a spool of thread.

Now that I've pissed off everyone who is, for some reason, morally opposed to learning how to sew because it's a 'girly hobby' or 'supporting the patriarchy' (a take that left me baffled like nothing else) I'm going to piss off everyone who already knows how to sew.

I recommend getting this little guy.

It's called a stapler sewing machine, for obvious reasons. If I recall correctly, it was invented to fix clothes on the go for fashion shows and/or cosplay. It does only a chain stitch and needs to be pushed manually, but if you need to, like, hem your trousers and you don't want to spend half an hour on doing it manually (and don't already have an actual sewing machine) this is a lifesaver.

Here's a tutorial how it operates:

Now, why am I recommending this? Because it will only set you back six bucks. I got two right off the bat because I was banking on one not working (and I was right) and so I could use it for spare parts. The one in the video (Spring Come) is the one I have as well, and it's the one that actually works. I can't vouch for any unmarked ones, but the blue one works. It IS a little temperamental, but with a bit of practice it makes things so much easier.

The reason I'm not recommending an electric machine of any kind, even the one that costs 18$, is because, if you're a beginner, then an automatic sewing machine becomes a machine that exponentially speeds up the rate at which you make mistakes, and if it breaks down, good luck fixing it unless you have a dad/uncle/friend who knows his electronics. This thing can be fixed with a screwdriver, and takes the same needles as an ordinary sewing machine.

You can buy a bundle of needles just about anywhere for any price and they'll be decent as long as they're steel, but I would recommend looking for some actual better quality thread. Everywhere else, you can pinch pennies, but the thread itself is what's holding your clothes together, so this should be the part where you're looking for quality instead of price.

Alright, those of you who didn't scroll past with a derisive scoff at my take, I hope I've been helpful.

[beautifulmadnesss]

"Just Say You Won't Let Go" Garrick x Riorson!Reader

Summary: Xaden's younger sister finally plucks up the courage and kisses his best friend, who she has always loved, but it goes horribly wrong when he pushes her away. Garrick is completely caught off guard and has no idea how to react when the girl he isn't supposed to love kisses him without warning. ANGST

"Again." He demanded despite the fact that we had been sparring for well over an hour at this point and he had pinned me every time.

"Garrick, I think we've trained enough, at this point when someone does try to kill me, I'm going to be too exhausted to do anything but pass out." I tried to reason with my trainer who had been assigned to me by my older brother.

"Again." He repeated, pushing himself up and dragging me with him. I stumbled slightly as I tried to get my legs under me, falling forward against his chest. I immediately felt the butterflies that I always felt whenever we got a little too close. Garrick has been there my entire life, mostly just because he was Xaden's best friend, but also because he cared about me or at least I hoped he did. He was usually the first to come looking for me when the boys were being a little too mean or rough. When our parents were killed, Xaden had the entire world on his shoulders all of a sudden, so when I couldn't bring my fears about the future to him, I went to Garrick. He held me and promised that no matter where we ended up, he would take care of me. Where Xaden and I always struggled with fiery tempers, Garrick was always the voice of reason, not quiet and optimistic like Bodhi, but reasonable and rational. I can't remember a time before I loved him, but I was always too scared to tell him. Maybe it was the newfound confidence since I'd joined the Riders quadrant or maybe it was the fear that I wasn't going to make it, but for a moment I was just brave enough to reach forward on my tip toes and kiss him.

He pushed me back almost immediately, "what are you doing?" It wasn't an accusation, just confusion, but the words hit me harder than any other hit he landed tonight.

My throat felt so tight that I couldn't force any words out. I just ran. My legs were already on fire, but I pushed through the pain and ran like it would dispel the earth shattering pain in my chest. White hot tears slid down my cheeks as I raced through the courtyard and up the stone steps. It was late enough that no one was out and I was grateful that I didn't give anyone another reason to target me. The tower was empty when I arrived, so I allowed myself to fall to the floor and succumb to my broken heart.

I ruined everything. Of course he didn't like me back. I was so stupid to think that there was a chance he would see me like that. Fuck. Since he was a Second Year, I could avoid him in class and in the halls, but there would be no avoiding him during our training sessions. That is unless I told Xaden and other than reliving what just happened, there is nothing I would want to do less. All I could hope is that he just would pretend like it never happened. Or maybe I could try to avoid him.

I was honestly planning to stay up here all night. No one really came up here, so it was pretty quiet, until I heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Expecting another one of the never ending attacks, I armed myself with one of my daggers and faced the opening at the top of the stairs.

"You look like shit."

"Not a smart thing to say to someone holding a weapon." I shot back at my cousin, but sheathed the dagger and returned to my spot on the stone wall.

"Garrick said I should come check on you, he thought you'd be up here." Well that's even more humiliating.

"I'm fine."

"Clearly." He sighed and took off his jacket, placing it around my shoulders. I didn't realize how cold I was until I felt the warmth cover my bare shoulders as I hadn't exactly stopped on my way out for shoes or my jacket. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked and didn't push when I simply shook my head in response. "When you're ready you can come stay in my room if you want. Can't have you dying because you're not sleeping."

"I've had enough humiliation today, I'll go to my own room to sleep." I wasn't planning on it, but I knew without the lie, he wasn't going to leave me alone.

"Good, I'll walk you over and then check with Liam to make sure you actually stay there." I glared at him, but he was used to it by now.

We sat in silence for a while until I eventually stood to go to the barracks, feeling totally exhausted. True to his word, he walked with me the entire way and I knew he would be asking Liam in the morning so I let myself collapse in my bed. I didn't even bother changing, just stored my daggers close at hand and let sleep take over.

Garrick's POV

"We may be friends, but if I ever see her crying again because of you, I will kick your ass." Bodhi's threat was so unlike him, but I didn't doubt he meant it.

"I didn't mean to. She just kissed me out of nowhere and I panicked and then she left before I could say anything." The thought of her crying because of me made my stomach turn.

"Well then, tell her that."

"I've been trying, but she's been avoiding me all day. I'll tell her during our training session this afternoon." I'd been rehearsing in my head what I would say to her, but none of it seemed right. I still wasn't really sure what I felt, but I did want to tell her that I was just caught off guard and I never meant to hurt her. I really cared about her.

Unfortunately it wasn't that easy. She was well over half an hour late to our training session and despite the fact that I had seen her just a couple hours ago at dinner I was terrified something happened to her. She had been attacked several times at the start of the year just for being the daughter of Fen Riorson, but it only got worse after Threshing. The unbounded cadets were jealous of her dragon and believed she was unworthy.

I knocked on her door several times, only becoming more frantic when she didn't answer. It was warded so I knew I couldn't get in unless she opened it. Xaden had warded it so himself and Bodhi could get in, but not me. Maybe he knew about her crush on me.

"I don't want to talk to you." She snapped as soon as she ripped the door open. I thought Bodhi said she was crying, now she just sounded pissed, like it was my fault she decided to completely change everything about our relationship out of nowhere.

"Fine, but you're late for training. Let's go." Fuck, that wasn't what I was supposed to say. I was supposed to be apologizing.

I saw the anger crack for a moment and her eyes watered slightly, but she clenched her jaw and steeled her face before shoving past me into the hall. Great. I came to apologize and now I've made it even worse. After shutting her door for her, I followed after her into the training room.

We didn't talk during warm ups outside of me making corrections to her form as she practiced combinations on one of the training dummies. We still didn't talk while doing wind sprints or even after when we moved on to leg work. By the time we started sparring the silence was deafening. She was pushing hard, even for her.

"Okay, that's enough for tonight." I said after she took a particularly hard hit to the side.

"No." She shot back instantly. "Again." She demanded, despite being clearly worn down.

So, we went again and when she got fed up with me pulling punches she scoffed and moved back to the training dummy. Her pace was unrelenting and there was no stopping her, so I just sat down on the mat trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to say to her.

She was Xaden's sister. I wasn't allowed to think about her like that. Then the apostasy happened and we suddenly weren't just kids anymore, we were soldiers in a war or at least I was, she was a Lady being prepared to one day be a Duchess. She was promised to a man who would be fitting of that title, until she wasn't. Even then, I couldn't let myself look at how beautiful she was, because I had to hold her as we were suddenly orphans and I was making her promises I wasn't sure I could keep. Then she was gone and I didn't see her until five years later. She was breathtakingly beautiful and I wanted so desperately to tell her, but I couldn't because Xaden made me promise to train her and protect her. He didn't need to ask me to do that, I would've done it anyways, but he trusted me to look after her, to make sure no one hurt her. Yet, here I was, now the one hurting her.

I heard her sniffle slightly between hard smacks to the dummy. When I looked over, I saw blood smeared across the front. Her knuckles had split and she hadn't slowed down at all.

"Okay, you're done." I said, moving to stand, but she had whirled around to face me before I was even on my feet.

"If you didn't like me, why do you always take care of me? I know I sound pathetic right now, but I don't care. I need you to tell me. Do you only pretend to like me because of Xaden? Have I just been his annoying little sister this whole time?" She seemed to regain her composure as she stood straighter and wiped her tears angrily. "Nevermind, you're right, we should just pretend this didn't happen. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" I cut her off. Her hair blew backwards in a shockwave from how fast I had crossed the room. I wove my fingers through the smooth dark waves and held the back of her head as I bent down and kissed her. I still didn't know what to tell her, but I had to make sure she knew that none of that was true. Despite the increasing fear I had that something would happen to her if I let myself act on the feelings I've fought so hard to keep buried, I kissed her like none of it mattered. We could figure out the rest, but right now all I could think about was how good it felt to finally hold her.

The moment shattered when she shoved me with such an unexpected force I stumbled backwards.

"What the fuck, Garrick?" She screamed. "Do you know how I felt when you pushed me away after I finally decided to kiss you? I've been in love with my entire life. As stupid as it seems I've dreamed about kissing you since we were kids, but I always thought you would never like me like that. Still, I risked it and then you broke my heart. Everything I was afraid of happened in the moment when you pushed me away. You don't get to just kiss me like you didn't reject me yesterday. So fuck you." She tried to push past me again, but this time I caught her wrist. I wasn't letting her leave broken hearted again.

"I'm sorry. You're right, that isn't fair. Can I explain?" I felt so out of my element, looking into her dark eyes, begging for her to give me a chance that I didn't deserve. She held out her bloody hands without a word. "Okay, you sit, I'll get the bandages."

I was welcome for a moment to gather my thoughts. I didn't want to mess this up again. I sat down in front of her with our legs touching, I took her hands in mine and set to cleaning them. "I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." I whispered, still only looking at her hands. I now felt even worse about my reaction to the kiss yesterday, because I've always trusted her, always felt safe with her and yet this vulnerability was terrifying. "You're kind and fiercely loving. You're so brave and strong. I know everyone tells you that you're all the same things Xaden is, but it's different with you. He's bigger and way more brooding." She laughed softly making my heart skip a beat. "But you're trusting and loyal without question to anyone who deserves it. It's so easy for you to know right and wrong, even when we've always had to live in the grey. You've lost so much and been betrayed so many times. I know you don't really want to talk about what happened in your foster home, but I know that despite all of that, you still trust people. I wish I could love people and trust you like you do. I've been so scared of losing you or hurting you that I didn't ever let myself consider what a life with you would be like until after you kissed me. Hell, I didn't even consider much of a future at all and I still don't really know what will happen, but I know that I want you with me for whatever it is. I'd also really like to kiss you again, but I don't want you to hit me, so I guess I'll ask this time." I chanced a glance up to her face, relieved to find that she was smiling.

"Next time you want to tell me something, don't send Bodhi to check on me. You're a thick-headed idiot, but I love you." She leaned forward and as she maneuvered so that she was sitting in my lap I completely forgot how to function. "You can kiss me now."

And I did. Pushing away any thoughts or feelings other than the complete and total bliss of losing myself in her.

Part 2

[silens-oro]

You Know Where You Are: Part I

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Musician!Reader Angst/Established Relationship Part II | Part III

The Pitt Playlist located here The Pitt Masterlist

Synopsis: Dr. Robby's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day started before he even made it to PTMC. He was supposed to go to Pittfest to support his girlfriend's band with Jake, but decided to flake and give his ticket to Jake's girlfriend. You are less than thrilled with his lack of communication. Word Count: 965 Content Warning: Arguing; Reader is in her 30's A/N: This will be a three-parter.

“Why is an alarm going off?” You grumbled into Robby’s warm chest as the jingle from his phone repeated itself. Robby groaned as he reached over to the nightstand to turn it off. He was silent for a few beats, his other hand coming up to rub your back gently. “Mikey?”

“I’m goin’ in today.” He mumbled into the crown of your head. 

“You’re what?” Sitting up in a hurry, you pushed yourself off him, but kept your eyes pinpointed on his. Michael was looking anywhere else in the room but at you. “No. No, Mike! You said you weren’t going to do this.”

“I know.” He responded gently, his eyes breaking from yours. 

“You know.” Scoffing, you started to get off the bed, but was stopped by his hand gently grabbing your thigh, squeezing it in a way that told you he did not want this to get blown into an argument. Not today. “What about Jake? You can’t just ditch him.”

“Giving him my pass for his girlfriend. They’ll have a blast and apparently she’s a huge fan of you guys.” He tried to soften the blow. All it did was build the irritation that was growing inside of you. 

“And me?” Your question hung in the air.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Absolutely not.” Gently prying his hand off your leg, you stood and threw on some random clothes he had in the second drawer that housed various t-shirts, jeans and leggings that you’d left over time. “Genuinely don’t know what I was expecting.” You muttered under your breath as you pulled a t-shirt over your head.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He had the nerve to sound indignant.

“It means that I am a very reasonable person who rolls with the punches when it comes to you, but god forbid something on my end -pre planned well in advance, mind you- is important to me and it gets thrown by the wayside.”

“Today is-” You held up your hand to stop him. 

“-I know what today is.” Your voice took on a somber tone. “And I am so incredibly sorry that you have to carry this with you, Mike. I am. I love you and I support you wholeheartedly, but you obviously knew you were going to do this well before this morning and you chose not to tell me. A heads up is all that I’m asking for here.”

“Had I known missing this set was going to be a huge deal-”

“It’s not about the set!” Your voice rose. “I don’t care about the set, Mike! My life is set after set. I cared about spending time with you and Jake. The set is an hour out of my day. Both of us are stupidly busy people with demanding careers who don’t get to see a whole lot of each other outside of some quick takeout and going to bed -if we’re even in the same state!” It wasn’t meant to be a jab, but Robby felt it all the same. 

“You’ve never had a problem with me having to cancel for work.” His voice was starting to get an irritated tone to it, one that you knew he knew he was wrong, but was doubling down. 

“That’s not what this is!” You snapped, “I’m not mad because you get called in to work, Mike! You did this on purpose. They didn’t call you in, you are choosing to go in on a day that you already arranged to have off for no other reason than you won’t communicate!” He winced -you don’t communicate was repeated like a broken record through just about every failed relationship he had. “I don’t understand how you don’t see why I’m frustrated with this and, quite frankly, it’s pissing me off even more than I was to begin with because I can’t tell if you know what you’re doing or if this is just a defensive reflex!”

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand on your side, you sighed when you saw how early it actually was. Deciding that removing yourself from Mike’s townhouse was the best option so you could cool off without figuratively ripping his head from his body, you grabbed your purse off his dresser. 

“Where are you going?” Mike stood from the bed, pajama pants hanging low in his hips. There was clear panic in his eyes, but he couldn’t navigate himself out of the hole he had dug himself. 

“Back to my place.” You didn’t bother to untie your sneakers as you shoved your feet into them, pulling roughly until they popped on. 

“Come on,” He said your name softly, “-please just get back into bed-”

“Why?” You snapped, “You’re getting ready for work and I don’t have a reason to be here right now.” Mike winced, then inhaled deeply before nodding -not to agree with you, but to process the words that you just said to him. 

“You don’t need a reason to be here.” He was nearly begging. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from going off the deep end. 

“Fine, I don’t want to be here.” You ground out. And truthfully, you didn’t. Anger was a rarity coming from you -life happens- but this wasn’t “life happens”. This was “Robby happens” and when Robby happens...you shook your head. 

“You coming back here tonight?” He knew it was a long shot, but he asked anyway. 

“You know, Mike…” You shrugged, exasperated, arms swinging out from your sides, “-probably not.” Done with the conversation you left the bedroom, angry that this was how the day -a day that was supposed to be fun and a distraction from the shit Mike deals with- started in a fiery blaze. 

“Don’t-” Not bothering to hear his response as you fled through the townhouse, you let the door slam closed behind you. 

Part II

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