#wanted to test how these looked with some spare paper

[origami-fleur]

Sprig

Leaves instructions.

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[simpxxstan]

best friend's older brother wonwoo

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

warnings: pg 13+, making out

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who is just nine months older than your best friend, so he's in the same class as the two of you

you don't even want to figure out how that happened. but it's good for you, because it lets you get an upper hand over wonwoo whenever he tries to bully you.

and bully you he does. he's a massive bully. behind that nerdy, good boy look he charms everyone with, you know that jeon wonwoo is an absolute menace to society.

from stealing your essays, to forcing you to show him your solution of homework, he doesn't spare a chance to irritate you. the worst bit is that he's got everyone convinced that he's the best boy that could ever live and no teacher or parent ever finds a fault in him. if the two of you fight, it's always you who gets scolded. if the teacher spots the two of you talking in class, it's always you who gets punished.

after ten years of facing this, you've come to the conclusion that the universe is unfair. it's a relief that you're in your final year of school and finally, you can count the days until you can get rid of this menace.

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who knows he's pushing luck every time he annoys you

but he still gets away with it, either through sheer chance or through his good looks and manners.

it's just not fair that he's born in this universe where you're always around him, with your indomitable sarcasm and overperforming tendencies. you seem to be made for him, but in the worst way possible. with you out of the scene, wonwoo would always be first in class, always win quizzes and spellbees, always win the 700 metre sack race. naturally, it can't be his fault for thinking of ways to expel you from school.

and when the two of you hit puberty and wonwoo realises that underneath your acne, you're actually growing up into the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, it makes the entire situation even worse. because now, you're the subject of his annoyance and his desires. and he can't get you out of his head for the best and the worst reasons possible.

so wonwoo is equally relieved as you are to be in the final year of school, with the comfort that as he becomes an adult this year, he will finally live a life free of pests (you).

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who becomes ill the very week of the midterms

as a result, he misses out on several classes of key revision and even some internal tests that will count towards your final score. you score full in all these tests, getting quite the lead ahead of wonwoo, and yet, you don't feel that rush of joy when you see your perfect score. is it because you don't see the frown on wonwoo's face on seeing you beat him? is it because you don't feel the adrenaline kick in on meeting eyes with wonwoo and seeing the disappointment in his eyes?

at night, you recount about your day's academic successes but it doesn't generate any satisfaction in your heart. for hours you stay awake, trying to make sense of the ache in your chest, wondering what's missing these days that's leaving you feeling high and dry.

it's only at 3 am that you attempt something to cure this worry. you sit up, under your table lamp, writing up your notes on fresh paper, in your best handwriting. you even highlight key portions and add extra information beyond class notes, that you've learnt from the web or from the library.

the next day, you drop the notes with your best friend. "give this to wonwoo asap, hmm?" "notes? he said he'll just use mine-" "well, if his pride isn't too much, he will know what's good for him."

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who comes back two weeks later

he doesn't talk to you at first, trying to avoid your curious gaze. but you confront him in the corridor after classes are over. you stand right in front of him, your hands on your hips, your eyebrows furrowed. "you still look pretty pale," you tell him. a part in wonwoo wants you to touch him and see if the fever's still there. but he knows you'll not do that.

"you didn't have to send the notes. i would get them anyway." "a thank you would be nice." wonwoo bites his lower lip. is he ready to say thank you to you? is this why you sent the notes? to show your pity towards him? to cast a favour on him? to always be one step ahead of him even on the moral ground?

wonwoo doesn't end up saying thank you. his pride is too large a pill to swallow, and his mind keeps doubting your intentions. after all, ten years of rivalry is not easy to let go of, even if you look even more beautiful after two weeks of not seeing you.

but his attitude towards you changes. consciously or not, he becomes less snarky towards you. and he's surprised to see reciprocation too. you seem more open towards discussing homework with him. you even cooperate with him when your teacher asks you both to organise the annual prom event of the school. and wonwoo's pretty sure this cures his health faster than any medicines the doctor's prescribed to him.

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who's sitting in his shared bedroom with his sister, playing games on his computer, while she gossips with you about the prom couples of the year

wonwoo doesn't come into the room after that, but when you leave the room to use the washroom in the hall, you see him sitting on the couch and reading a book. "it's rude to listen to other's conversations, wonwoo. haven't you ever learnt that?" wonwoo doesn't look up from his book, so you take a step forward, intending to make yourself heard. "it's also rude to not reply to someone when they are talking to y-"

"guess who asked me today!" "man, i don't know, you tell me. when did they even ask you, i was with you the whole day?" "when we were walking back home and you were fighting with wonwoo in the convenience store about which ramen to buy."

your best friend pouts slightly, which she always does whenever she sees you fight with her brother. "i hate it that even after ten years, my best friend and my brother have not been able to get along. i feel like it's a failure on m-" "okay stop feeling guilty already, and tell me who asked you out for prom!" you squeal, and she giggles too, a high-pitched sound that's so different from her brother's breathy, raspy voice (not that you'd ever prefer his voice over hers). "im changkyun! isn't that so exciting!" you gasp loudly, clapping your hand over your mouth. "girl! i'm so excited for you, he's so dreamy." "i know! i had no idea he liked me!" "oh you're so lucky, love. his voice is so deep, and his eyes are so pretty, and he's so smart! what would i not give to be his prom part-" "im changkyun is a smartass and a teacher's pet. i see birds of a feather do flock together, y/n", wonwoo interrupts your conversation suddenly, giving you a piercing look before he walks out of the room in his haughty manner.

"come with me to prom." wonwoo finally looks up, his book kept on his chest, as he looks straight into your eye. you're standing half a metre away from him, but you can still feel the fire in his gaze.

"sorry, what?" "come with me to prom. be my prom partner." you purse your lips, pretending to consider it. "and why would you ask me?" "because you don't have a partner." "how do you know that?" "you just told me." wonwoo stands up, a smirk on his lips. "why are you asking me, wonwoo? i don't need your pity, i don't need a partner to enjoy prom." "you're right. although it's not pity. i'm just returning the favour. your notes are helping me keep up my academic record in order to get into the colleges i want."

it's a reasonable offer. when he frames it like this, it feels less like a personal affair and more of a professional situation-

"truce." you extend your hand and he shakes it. "truce it is." "for all your big talk, i bet you're asking me only because you're bitchless as fuck." wonwoo laughs at that. "don't be jealous. i'll see you on friday, y/n. be ready at 8."

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who has all eyes on him at the prom party but his eyes are only on you

"everyone's talking about you, you know." your arm is in his as the two of you lean against a wall, digging into the pastries being circulated. it's a blessing you accepted his offer, because a. if you had refused, he'd never be able to meet your eye confidently again, and b. you're the only one promising him intelligent conversation tonight, and he's glad you're the one talking to him.

"it's my dad's tux. it's what he wore at his prom." wonwoo doesn't miss the way your eyes glaze over his outfit in an appreciative look, and it makes his heart beat faster in his chest. "you look good, but i'm sure he looked better than you in it." "but you think i look good?" your eyes meet his, a tentative look that says more than words will. "i do. does it matter?" "well, a man likes to know that his prom partner approves of him." you laugh, your voice a beautiful tinkle. how has he never noticed how melodious your laugh is? "you're hardly a man, jeon wonwoo. you've got a long way to go."

and he'll go the long way. he'll take risks tonight. something about the perfume you're wearing is making him heady. something about the way you never let go of his arm makes his body warm with something unknown but pleasant. something about the way you're close enough for him to notice how often your eyes stray to his lips when you're talking to him makes him want to take a chance.

when the two of you are alone in a balcony, the fresh air blowing your hair away, revealing your elegant neck and a hint of your collarbones, and you're talking something about how a certain book is helping you study for biology, he zones out and his tunnel vision focuses on your lips. so he leans in and kisses you. it's an extremely short, chaste kiss, but wonwoo's never kissed anyone, so even this shoots electric sparks through his veins.

"what was that for?" this is the first time wonwoo's seen you blush, and his hand instinctively reaches out to touch your warm cheeks, trying to understand if it's for you. "i would ask you to prom even if you did have a partner. i didn't want to go with anyone else apart from you." your eyes are delightfully wide, looking so innocent and so cute. there's a pause, as wonwoo waits for you to give him the green signal or not. when he's going to give up and back off, you tug at his arm and pull him closer. "well, then kiss me again, and let me see if like it."

thinking about best friend's older brother!wonwoo who takes you to his car and gets into the back seat with you

"you look so, so beautiful today." he tells you in between kisses, as he pulls you closer to him. and you let him, your mind foggy, and just one thought rushing through your veins- wonwoo, wonwoo, wonwoo. his kisses are addictive, and you're clinging to him like a drug, letting him bite your lips and kiss your jaw and make a mess of your lipstick.

thank god for the privacy of wonwoo's car, and thank god he's learnt to drive early on. because you'd be so embarrassed of the way you're also equally hungrily touching him, as if you'd waited your entire life for this. but you don't have time to question your thoughts, and frankly speaking, you don't want to. you just know one thing for sure: you've been such a fool for hating wonwoo for so long, when he kisses like this and when you're so attracted to him.

when you're both out of breath and just sitting next to each other, slumped back as he holds you close to his chest and you snuggle your face into his warm body, you finally start confronting your thoughts. when you go silent for a moment too long, wonwoo asks you, "penny for your thoughts?"

you look up at him. why haven't you ever noticed how divine he looks under the moonlight? "i was thinking why we didn't do this sooner." "maybe because you were busy hating me." you sit up, gasping and turning around to face wonwoo. "excuse me? and what were you up to? loving me?" wonwoo smiles. "yes, loving you, i think. because i for sure love this sassy attitude of yours. and your smartass brain. and the way your lips purse into a perfect cupid's bow, but that's not the priority." you laugh. "you can just admit you like me because i'm hot." "yes i could. but that's not the whole truth. i could never like a woman who's not as intelligent as you. i could never like a woman who's not you."

and with every word he utters, you realise how his feelings mirror yours as well. just then, both of your phones ping and you simultaneously take it out to see the notification. "my god- i- wonwoo! i got into my dream college! "me too! wow. congratulations, baby, i knew you would. it'd be their loss to not accept someone as perfect as you." you giggle. "shut up, you're so cheesy." wonwoo grins and you lean in to peck his lips.

"okay, show me your letter. let's see how far we'll be-" you take wonwoo's phone in your hands and read the mail. "f-fuck. you didn't tell me? you bloody-" "what happened?" wonwoo's eyes go wide in alarm and you nearly punch him in shock. "you applied to the same college i did! why didn't you tell me! oh, you sneaky boy."

wonwoo bursts out laughing. "why do you look so ready to beat me up? isn't that a good thing?" you pause, considering it for a second, before the dots connect in your head. you finally break into a smile and hug wonwoo, pulling him into a tight embrace. "i guess it is, baby."

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 5

        [Master List]

   “Danny!”

            Turning towards the voice, Danny held the door to the coffee shop open as a familiar blond came running up to him. “Hey Jesse, you work today?”

            They nodded, walking through the open door. “Yeah, just about to start. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, everything okay?” They eyed him knowingly. Danny had seen Jesse at Mr. Bianchi’s funeral and although they didn’t speak to each other, they’d both acknowledged seeing the other.

            “Been pretty busy with the daycare and some personal things. How’s school going?”

            They sighed. “Exhausting. I have this big test coming up for chemistry and I’m barely passing the class. I’ve spent every spare minute studying, and I still don’t feel like I understand what’s happening! One second.” They vanished into the backroom, returning a few moments later with an apron and hat on. “I haven’t even had time to work on my hobbies lately! Just work and school all day every day! It’s like, yeah I know my education is important but would it kill my professors to give me a break so I can hang out with friends or- god forbid go on a date with my partner?”

            He held out the cash for his drink which Jesse took without a word, still on a roll. Seeing his opportunity when they took a breath, he cut in. “I could help you, if you want?” They eyed him curiously, pouring the first two shots into the hot coffee while the rest pulled. “I have a bachelor’s in bio-chem, I was pretty good at both. Here’s my number,” He scribbled his number down on a drink sleeve and slid it across the bar. “text me a time if you want some tutoring.”

            “Oh my gods,” They breathed, taking the piece of paper. “you’re literally my savior- TIM! Your friend here is a god amongst men! Buy his coffee for him!”

            Danny frowned. “I already paid for my drink though.” He reminded before glancing at Tim. He’d expected the man to be in a suit again, hair combed back neatly, briefcase in hand; that was, after all, how he’d looked when they first met. But it was a Saturday, so it was unlikely he’d be going to any meetings which meant his apparel made a lot more sense.

            The man wore his hair pulled back in a messy half up half down bun, ripped skinny jeans, a red flannel tied around his waist, and a gray t-shirt that said ‘I <3 Mothman’. His ears were adorned by various silver studs and chains that complimented his black leather bracelets. A skateboard was held firmly in his left hand.

            “Well- fine! Free coffee for a month, you’d really be helping me out!” They poured a few more shots into the cup. “I’m in a good mood, Tim your coffee’s on the house today.”

            Tim looked between the two. “That makes absolutely no sense, Jesse. I have more than enough to cover my own coffee. In fact,” as if to prove a point, he pulled a couple hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and stuffed them into the tip jar. “keep the change.”

            “I have no idea what’s happening anymore.” Danny sighed, just wishing for his coffee.

            As if reading his mind, Jesse finally slid his coffee into his awaiting hand before whirling around to start the exact same process with Tim’s drink. Danny hadn’t actually run into Tim again since the first time they’d met. Whether it was because Tim didn’t come every day or Danny had been making more coffee at home these days, he wasn’t sure.

            It wasn’t unwelcome to see the man again, but he wasn’t sure they exactly qualified as friends like Jesse seemed to believe. “How’d those meetings go?” Danny asked after taking his first sip of coffee.

            “Ugh, don’t remind me. They’re done and now I’m avoiding any more they try to throw at me like the plague. How’s the Daycare going? You guys opened a little while back, didn’t you?” Tim leaned against the counter, waiting for his own drink to come out.

            With a nod, and another long sip of the boiling hot coffee, Danny replied. “It’s been going all right. Lots of kids now, I’m working on hiring some help at the moment but I’m just glad I can help out, you know?”

            Tim agreed, grabbing his coffee. “Seems like you’re doing something really good for the Bowery.”

            “I’m trying.”

            The two walked towards the door, wishing Jesse a good shift, and headed outside.

            “Well I’m meeting my boyfriend at the skatepark, what are you up to on one of your few days off?” Tim asked, pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

            Danny laughed. “Bold of you to assume I get any days off. If I’m not working at the daycare I’m usually at a soup kitchen or doing paperwork or something else. Today I’m actually just going to the observatory though. Skateboarding is cool though; I didn’t actually recognize you at first with the whole skater thing.” He laughed. “You look a lot more comfortable like this than in the suit getup you had last time.”

            Tim grinned. “Much. And much like you, I don’t get many days off so I’ve gotta head out, make the most of the time I do have off.” He paused. “Actually, wait,” Pulling a sharpie out of his pocket-did he always keep a sharpie in his pockets? - he scribbled something on his drink’s sleeve before sliding it off the cup and offering it to Danny. “here’s my number. We should hang out sometime.”

            Okay Jesse, you win this time.

~~~

            May in Gotham wasn’t nearly as cold as Danny though it would be, although having an ice core might have something to do with that, but he continued to stock his daycare with jackets, gloves, and hats just in case. The recent downpours had forced him to add umbrellas, raincoats, and rainboots as well. He said ‘he’- in reality, he let Dora pick out most of the clothes for the kids. It was something she liked to do.

            Danny shifted uncomfortably at his desk, waiting. Mia’s friend was supposed to come in for an interview shortly and despite his excitement to have more help, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. When Mia said she had a friend who was ‘good people’ and just wanted to help, he had expected someone from the area- not one of Bruce Wayne’s foster children.

            Duke Thomas was eighteen years old, would be graduating from high school at the end of the month, and had been accepted to Gotham U for the following semester. He had a trust fund that would see him through the rest of his life and no need to work, least of all work with children in the Bowery. Maybe it was a bit hypocritical to think that way though- Danny certainly didn’t need to work with children in a random universe in a random city with children from the most rundown part of said city.

            Surprising no one, Danny wasn’t exactly good at the whole ‘boss’ thing. Sure he was a king, but he had a council and he made them take care of the social aspects, and hiring Mia had been different, he already knew her! He’d never actually interviewed someone for a job, and he wasn’t even really sure what he was supposed to say or do.

            There was a knock at his door, and he straightened his jacket out before shouting a calm ‘come in!’. Mia stood on the other side, gesturing for her friend to enter, and sent a glare over her friend’s shoulder directly at Danny. She mouthed ‘be nice’ to which he responded, ‘I’m always nice’, before closing the door.

            “You must be Duke,” Danny smiled. “I’m Danny, pleasure to meet you.”

            Duke shook his hand, it was firm, stronger than Danny expected. “Mia’s told me quite a bit about you, sir.”

            “Oh Ancients, no, call me Danny. I’m like four years older than you at most. Sir is weird.” They both took their seat, Duke shooting him a grin instead of responding, and Danny spread out Duke’s application in front of him. “So Duke, why do you want to work here?”

            Duke clasped his hands in front of him. “Honestly? I think what you’re doing here is really great. I grew up in an area that needed help like this. We never had anything like this when I was younger. It’s a really awesome way to help the community.”

            “That’s good to hear. I’m not from here so getting my feet under me was a little difficult at first, but once I made some connections things got a lot easier. You’re finishing up high school at the moment, right?” Duke nodded. “What are your plans after that?”

            Duke nodded slowly. “I’m going to attend Gotham U, I’m not sure what for yet. But during the summer and the days I don’t have class I want to do something with my time. Something good. I think that’s your daycare.”

            “Do you have any experience with kids?”

            Duke considered the question for a moment. “When I lived in the Narrows I had a neighbor who… had a drug problem. Her daughter came over one day to ask if we had any eggs. She was trying to cook herself food because her mom had been gone for a few days. After that I tried to take care of her. Brought her food, made sure there were leftovers for days I couldn’t, showed her my homework and taught her what little I could. It wasn’t much, but I learned a lot about taking care of little kids.” Something in his voice was tight, which made sense, it was obviously not a happy story. “We’re still friends and she’s doing much better now.”

            Well at least it had a bit of a happy ending.

            Danny liked him. He seemed genuine, seemed like the kind of guy who would do his very best for the kids, and actually wanted to help them. “How many hours are you looking to work in a week and what is your schedule like?”

            It didn’t take long for them to sort everything out. Duke would start the week after school ended, the first week of June, and he would work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, ten to six, and (despite his protests that it was too much) would be making thirty dollars an hour. Danny really didn’t care if it seemed like a lot, he could pay Duke thirty dollars an hour for full time work for the rest of his life and not make a dent in his fortune.

            Mia gave him a smug look after Duke left. Why? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like Danny had been opposed to her friends working here, he’d encouraged it! He reminded her of that, and she rolled her eyes grumbling something about a hostile takeover, but it was difficult to hear over the shrieking children, even for him.

            With Mia working nine to three every day, and Duke working ten to six three days a week (once school let out), Danny might be able to take a bit of time off in the afternoons on those days. Still, he thought he should maybe hire someone a bit older, with a lot more experience before he could take any kind of trips or vacation time.

            That night, Danny found himself craving burgers. Nasty burger to be specific, but he’d be fully dead before he’d willingly set foot in Amity Park again, so he had to settle for the next best thing. Batburger.

            There was one not too far from where he lived, technically it was over the border into Crime Alley, but he wasn’t exactly scared of Crime Alley. He lived in the Bowery. Arguably worse than Crime Alley. And also, he was already half-dead. He wasn’t exactly worried about getting mugged.

            But get mugged, he did.

            “Hey you!” Someone shouted. Danny sighed, turning around to see a man wearing a mask with a gun pointed his way. “Hand over your wallet and phone.”

            Now, Danny was rich- like, incredibly wealthy, but he didn’t actively carry around large amounts of money. In fact, after buying his and Mia’s lunch that afternoon, he didn’t have any cash on him at all. And his phone was Wayne tech until Tucker gutted half of it an added his own stuff. It wouldn’t be worth much.

            And Danny was capable of going invisible and intangible, so he wasn’t exactly worried about this guy. He honestly felt bad he didn’t have any cash to give him though. “Listen man, I don’t really have anything worth money on me right now. If you want, I can get you a meal at the bat burger though?”

            The mugger looked confused. “What?”

            “I don’t have money on me, just my card which I would totally cancel before you could do anything with it, and my phone is worthless. But I was heading to Bat Burger anyways so if you’re hungry I’d be willing to buy you a meal.” Danny shrugged nonchalantly like his offer wasn’t absolutely insane.

            The gun began to lower slowly, Danny noticed a slight tremor in the man’s hand, and then the gun’s safety was back on, and the gun was stowed. “You’re that guy… My buddy from the Bowery said you hand out meals sometimes. You… you were at the soup kitchen.”

            Danny shrugged again. “Listen man, I do what I can. And what I can do right now, is buy you a meal. If you want.”

            That’s how Danny found himself sat across from a complete stranger eating burgers. Except he wasn’t a stranger. The man had shyly taken off his mask before walking in, afraid the employees and customers would think he was robbing them (a safe assumption) and freak out. The man -Miguel- turned out to be a bit closer to a boy. Probably seventeen (eighteen at most), with dull green eyes, freckles, and ratty brown hair.

            Probably best to act like he didn’t know who this kid was- it would be startling to realize an adult remembered you and your brother after almost being mugged.

            “So, what’s your story?” Miguel asked.

            Scoffing, Danny swallowed a bite and took a swig of soda. “I don’t have one.”

            “C’mon man, everyone’s got a story.”

            Danny raised an eyebrow pointedly. “And what’s yours?”

            The kid glared. “Point taken.”

            Wiping the grease off his hands, Danny leaned back into the booth and sighed. “I’m Danny. I run a daycare in the Bowery because it helps people and that’s what I like to do. Your turn.”

            “’m Miguel.” When he stopped there, Danny raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to keep talking. “Jus’ needed some money for dinner.” Danny had noted that he’d only eaten half of the food he’d gotten and wrapped everything up neatly.

            “Are you saving that for tomorrow? Or someone else?” Miguel pulled back like he wasn’t sure he should answer. “I like helping people. And I don’t do it in the ‘legal’ ways, if you’re afraid of cops or cps or something.” Danny pushed as much truth into his words as he could. Even if the kid couldn’t pick up his aura he pushed genuine-care-worried as hard as he could towards the boy.

            Miguel rubbed his palm with his thumb nervously. “My… my little brother’s waitin’ on me to bring ‘im somethin’.”

            “How old is your brother?” Danny asked. At Miguel’s quickly tensed nature, he put his hands up. “I’m not calling anyone on you, Miguel.”

            The boy shifted anxiously. “Thirteen.”

            Danny nodded, taking another bite, hoping that a moment’s reprieve would help Miguel calm down. “School?” He finally asked. Miguel shook his head, hanging it in embarrassment. “Parents?”

            “…I…” Miguel’s fists tightened, his breathing picked up, and he looked at Danny with panicked eyes. “I take care of him, ‘m really good at it and I don’t let ‘im go hungry or nothin’ and-”

            “Miguel, woah, woah, woah, it’s okay.” Danny comforted. “I’m not here to judge you kid.” He waited for Miguel’s panic to subside, for his words to sink in, before continuing. “I help people. That’s what I like to do, remember? Do you have a job?”

            He shifted uncomfortably. “I… ‘m in a… gang- ‘ts the only way ta get money for someone like me!”

            “Yeah, it’s got to be hard for someone in your position.” Danny finished his burger, wiping his hands again, crumpling the napkin, and tossing it onto the table. “Okay. So. I could use some help in the evenings and on weekends keeping the daycare clean. Toys need to be sterilized, floors vacuumed, and carpets cleaned, that kind of thing. I’d pay well.” Miguel opened his mouth, but Danny kept going. “I could tutor you and your brother on the weekends as well, I imagine he’ll be going into high school next year?”

            “Y..yeah…”

            “How old are you? What year of school would you be in?”

            Miguel fidgeted, clearly confused. “Seventeen. I’d be a senior next year I guess.”

            “Okay, so I can tutor the both of you, get you ready for school next year, and I’ll obviously pay for that too. Where are you living? I can set you guys up with an apartment too.”

            “What the fuck are you sayin’ man?” Miguel looked at him like he was -well- a fruit loop.

            Danny sighed and slid his card across the table. “I know it sounds like a trick; I swear it’s not. I help people. Call me your fairy godmother if it makes you feel better. I’ll let you think about it though, I know it sounds fake and you’re probably worried I’m like, some crazy trafficker or something. So, come find me, or call me if you want that.” He stood up, grabbing his trash. “In the meantime, let me get another meal for you to take to your brother.”

            Miguel’s ‘you’re absolutely fucking crazy’ look didn’t go away in the time it took for Danny to get him another meal (which was definitely more like three meals) so he reminded Miguel to call him and went on his way. Hopefully after the eventful couple of days he’d had, he could sleep in extra late tomorrow.

            Right?

~~~

            Wrong.

            He’d never been more wrong. How come it was so easy to jinx himself? And why did these things always happen to him? Apparently the power went out in the middle of the night and Danny’s alarm decided that meant it should go of at six in the morning (Ancients fuck factory settings), he was going to go back to sleep after shutting it off but the sound of an explosion not too far away woke him back up, so he stumbled out of bed and decided on coffee. What? Explosions were not for ex-vigilantes.

            Except his coffee maker had decided to not come back on after the power went out and he realized the whole thing was broken (he could fix it, but it would be easier to just go out and get coffee for the time being), which is when he thought things were looking up. The barista knew him (not as well as Jesse, but he thought his name was Eddie?), his younger brother went to daycare, and gave him his drink for free. The drink that he promptly spilled all over himself. No Tim in sight to buy him a replacement coffee.

            Fine, he didn’t need it anyways. He needed to go to the grocery store, so he’d just buy a premade coffee- with a lid that screwed on. It was a foolproof plan.

            “You should be more careful, walking in alleyways by yourself.” A hysterical voice called from the shadows of the alley he was cutting through. “You Wayne’s always thinking you’re safe because of the bat. But he’s not here, is he?” When Danny realized who was speaking he decided to nope out of the situation immediately.

            Nope. Fuck that. He didn’t do clowns. Didn’t matter what they looked like, if it walked like a clown and talked like a clown it was a fucking clown. Turning around, Danny moved to walk away from who he assumed was the Joker but had never actually met before. Wasn’t he in Arkham? Jazz had complained about him once or twice. He’d also heard complaints from several of his subjects about the man, a problem he never thought he’d have to deal with personally.

            A hand grabbed his shoulder and before Danny could stop himself he spun around and threw a punch at the man’s face. He. Didn’t. Do. Clowns.

            A sickening crack came from under Danny’s fist and blood poured out of the man’s nose. The man screamed and laughed hysterically; Danny questioned if he really was insane to be laughing at a broken nose.

            What exactly was Danny supposed to do in this situation? Joker decided for him, pulling out a gun and aiming it at the Halfa. Not the smartest move. Intangibility swept through him as the trigger was pulled, the bullet flying straight through him and lodging into the brick wall behind him. It only took another second for Danny to knock the gun out of his hand, grab the man by his shirt, and throw him across the alley into the opposite brick wall.

            The opposite brick wall which immediately collapsed on top of the body he’d thrown. Shit. Jogging over, Danny searched for a pulse. Aaaaaand… there wasn’t one. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. No biggie.

            “Ancients damn it.” He grumbled, pulling his hand away from the dry bleached skin and taking a step back. “Well you really stepped in it this time Danny.” He stared at the body, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing across his forehead as he debated what to do. “Could call the cops, don’t really want them to know I killed a guy, could try to find the bats- really don’t want them to know I killed a guy…. Could leave him here? No, no telling what someone would do with the body- might try to bring him back.”

            “And what have we here?” A deep modulated voice came from above Danny.

            Looking up, Danny came face to face with someone he was honestly surprised he hadn’t met before. The Bowery was part of Red Hood’s territory even if he was more known for his work in Crime Alley and Danny had been almost mugged a number of times, still, he’d never run into the crime lord. Despite knowing he should avoid vigilantes at all costs, Danny couldn’t help the bit of excitement at meeting the one his people called ‘the Avenger of the Dead’.

            Danny remembered the situation he was in and sighed, resigned. “Listen, it was an accident.”

            Red Hood tilted his head, dropping down from the fire escape he crouched on, gun still trained on Danny. When the man glanced toward the body he faltered, hand lowering slightly before looking back to Danny. “What the fuck?” It came out like a whisper.

            “He grabbed me and pulled a gun on me, I… didn’t mean to throw him that hard but I don’t like clowns.” Red Hood nodded as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. If he remembered correctly ‘the Red Hood’ was an old moniker of the Joker’s. Danny found it hard to believe someone nicknamed ‘the Avenger of the Dead’ would be in cahoots with the Joker, so it was more likely that he’d stolen the name to make something better out of it.

            He probably hated the clown more than Danny.

            Holstering his gun, Red Hood looked back to the body. “I’m guessing you don’t want anyone to know?” Danny nodded warily. “I’ll have someone take care of the body, give me a second to make a couple of calls.”

            Danny stood uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other while the Red Hood moved further down the alley. It gave him an opportunity to study the man. He was, well, to put it bluntly, he was jacked. He was almost a foot taller than Danny with broad shoulders and obvious muscles filling out his tight-fitting suit. It wasn’t like the suit was all spandex either, it was a much thicker material, definitely layered with Kevlar and probably some other tech and protective layers, and yet you could still see every muscle on the man.

            Danny wasn’t checking him out. Not even when the man placed one hand on his hip which jutted out to the side and showed off his extremely firm looking ass. Firm looking? Danny mentally face palmed. You’re not allowed to thirst over a crime lord. Even the Avenger of the Dead.

He tried not to listen in on the conversation- he didn’t want to accidently learn the man’s identity or something and focused on the sound of the city in the distance. Sirens, guns, and the explosions from the morning all indicated an Arkham breakout and his concern immediately shifted to Jazz.

            Whipping his phone out of his pocket he pressed one and called. It rang three times before he heard his sister’s voice.

            “Danny?”

            “Jazz! Are you okay?”

            There was a lot of background noise, and it took her a moment to respond, she was likely distracted. “Yeah I’m fine. The breakout happened before my shift today, I just got in. Listen, the boss is, obviously, not happy so I can’t talk. I’ll call you tonight. Maybe we can do takeout at my place?”

            He confirmed and was quickly hung up on. The timing was good, Red Hood making his way over right after.

            “Okay, I’ve got someone on their way to take care of the body. You need help getting home? Actually- let me rephrase- I’m going to get you home.” His voice left no room for argument.

            Danny argued anyways. “I was on my way to go grocery shopping. I’ll be fine.”

            Hood grunted. “Sorry man but we’ve got an Arkham breakout on our hands. Better for you to get home now and shop tomorrow. Besides, with the Joker dead it won’t take as long to clean everything up.”

            He noticed the way Hood said Joker was dead seemed almost smug, but he didn’t question it. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re not going to tell anyone that I did this, right?”

            Hood tilted his head and Danny pressed on before he could respond. “Because I mean, technically I killed him, but it was self-defense, and also this guy totally deserved it, but I’m just not totally sure it would look good for me with the parents whose kids I take care of and I would really prefer to not have to explain to all of them that ‘yes I killed the Joker and yes I’m still taking care of your kids’-”

            “Guy!” Hood cut in. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But I think you’d find most people would feel even more comfortable leaving their kid with someone who can defend themselves and their kids. Now let me take you home, I’ve got other people to catch and not a lot of time.”

            Danny relaxed at his words. “Oh don’t bother with me, I can-”

            “Just shut up and hold tight.” Red Hood grabbed Danny’s arm, pulled him close, extended his grapple, and they were flying.

            Now, Danny was used to flying, it was common practice for him even after hanging up his metaphorical cape, he flew on the daily, in his apartment he often found himself floating instead of walking, but flying while gravity was still a factor? Not at all the same. Danny’s arms wrapped around Hood’s neck tight, and his eyes snapped shut on reflex before he opened them again.

            “Where too?” Hood chuckled, swinging (apparently) aimlessly but away from the crime scene.

            Giving Hood his address, which he still wasn’t convinced was a good idea, he found himself enjoying the flight. It would be better with little bags of trail mix and a seatbelt, but he’d suffer he supposed.

            Setting down on the fire escape outside of his window, Hood leaned against the railing and seemed to be sizing Danny up.

            “Well… Uh… thanks, I guess.” Danny wasn’t sure what to say, settling instead for flattening down his hair. Between the shock of killing someone (which he had only done once before, and did Ending Pariah Dark really count? If anything that was worse than killing someone but also entirely different.) and meeting someone many of his people considered their hero (who he had hoped he’d get the opportunity to thank for his selfless deeds at some point or another) Danny couldn’t figure out what would be appropriate to say.

            Hood paused. “Anytime.” Danny snorted. “I mean it.” Even through his helmet Danny felt like he could see something blazing in his eyes. There was a solemnity in the way he spoke. “You killed the Joker. You need anything, come find me or my people. I owe you one.”

            Before Danny could argue (could insist that no Hood didn’t owe him anything, Danny owed him so much more for avenging so many lost souls that Danny had to introduce to the afterlife and they were always so young or powerless or scared and Hood had been able to bring them a comfort he never could so really it’s Danny who owed Hood a favor-) the vigilante leapt over the edge of the fire escape and swung away.

            Danny took a deep, shuddery breath, tearing his eyes away from where Red Hood had disappeared and using his intangibility to enter his apartment.

            He deserved a nap.

~~~

            Sleep never came to him, and he found it was much more elusive than it had been before he’d killed someone.

Prev. Next

[wraithdance]

Fortress [Part 1/2]

Synopsis: Kyle’s self control is tested by the pretty thing that wears Captain Price’s ring. Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick X Cougar!Reader; Established Price x Reader Note: AFAB!reader, no pronouns used for reader, No physical description or use of Y/N, reader is older than Kyle by several years. This will have a part two Content warning: NSFW, solo masturbation, mentions of reader having breasts, a man being down bad

The fact is Kyle has always had a thing for milfs/cougars.

It’s information he’ll never admit, but if you see his eyes lingering on the pretty seasoned women that pass him by… you didn’t, mind your fucking business, mate.

He also likes authority and the structure the military gives him. Occasionally, he pushes back on bad calls, but he’ll follow his Captain into the fire in a heartbeat. He’s loyal like that without fail.

So it comes to a surprise to Kyle how badly he fucked up. He didn’t mean for his feelings for Captain John Price’s drop dead gorgeous spouse to turn into anything more than a crush. You’re at least ten years older than him and he would never betray his Captain, he swears it on his life.

He didn’t mean for his hug to last longer than the acceptable amount of time when you pull him in tight. He didn’t mean to inhale the heady scent of your perfume that lingers at the base of your delicate neck. Fuck, he didn’t mean to shudder at the feel of soft, glowing skin as you move to stand beside John. 

You make a picture of strength and fortitude. Kyle feels like he’s out matched.

Kyle and his body are two separate entities when he stands abruptly at dinner. His face is hot with warmth and his hands clench to hide his cock from view. He’s making up some passive excuse about the wine not settling well as he races to the Price’s washroom.

It’s there in the small space that smells like lemon scented potpourri, that he’s barraged with images of the brief glimpse he got of your breasts over the dinner table.  You’d leaned over the serving platters to hear the punchline to Ghost's stupid joke. It was an innocent move on your part but you dipping your finger to gather the white gravy that stained your shirt when you notice it sends the hounds of hell baying at the gates of what was his iron mental control. He’d already ran from the table when you shove your soiled fingers into your mouth.

It still plays over and over and over and over… until he’s coming up with scenarios that never happened with such startling clarity that it frightens him. His mind supplies memories of what your skin felt like to fill in the gaps left from having never touched you in a way less than platonic. 

He’s panting himself into an anxiety attack when thick ropes of cum paint his fist and the decorative hand towels on the sink.

Kyle Garrick has lost control. It shames him to his core. 

He's prided himself on being better, sweeter, much more capable than the dogs playing men in his line of work. You make him feel like something half man. He hates the part of him that wishes to be at your feet.

His own disbelieving eyes in the mirror. He hides the cum stained towels under the bathroom sink with trembling hands (right behind the spare pack of toilet paper seems like a good spot). He’ll come back for them before he leaves, he swears to himself.

He just needs to focus and compartmentalize so he can at least pretend to be the Sgt. Kyle Garrick who has with the ability to withstand enemy torture. The soldier with the mental fortitude that ensured his place in the SAS serving her Majesty. 

That earned him the respect of his Captain who he would die for.

fuck.

When he makes an excuse to leave early he doesn’t mean to make eye contact with you, the demon wearing his Captain’s heirloom ring around your finger.  He’ll be fucking his fist until his cock is raw when he’s alone tonight and he doesn’t want you to see that in his eyes.

But he looks up when your husband calls out his name in concern.

It’s how he sees the small, nearly imperceptible smirk on your painted mouth and the knowing look you casts him under lowered lashes.

Kyle doesn’t go back for the towels.

Nor does he hear the concerned questions from his mates. He honestly can’t hear shit past the dull thrum of his racing heart pounding in his ears.

He doesn’t quite remember slipping a bit on the front steps in his hurry to leave or snagging his pullover on a branch as he ambles unsteadily down the street. He doesn’t know where he’s going, his home is in the other direction, but he doesn’t truly care.

If he’d been in his right mind maybe he would have seen his Captain’s dark gaze search the charged air between you two.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick is completely, irrevocably and devastatingly fucked.

[mxzenpai]

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Lions, Tigers, and Bears oh my!

When you entered the botanical garden you were thinking you were going to see Leona sleeping once again, instead you find a lion. A lion who’s decided to stick by your side…for some reason. You are not qualified for this.

————————————————————————

It was another day at Night Raven College and you seemed to be at your wits end. Normally, you pride yourself on your patience and the ability to not let little things get to you. However, it seems the odds are against you today and the world has chosen to test you. Grim causing a potion to explode making you have to clean the entire classroom, Ace and Deuce going at it again about something you don’t even remember, some random students attempting to take a jab at you. At this point all you wanted was to relax and escape for a bit. You knew a good place and you knew only one person would be there. As long as you were quiet, the fellow student would care less if you took a bit of a breather from the outside world.

A small smile crosses your lips as you are hit with the warm of the botanical garden as we step in. Your shoulders relax as you stand at the entrance for just a moment longer, eyes closing. They reopen as you step in fully, shutting the door behind you. You’re quiet on your feet as to not disturb Leona who you know for a fact is always in here at this time. You don’t even spare a glance in his direction as you make your way to a little corner, settling down in the grass and pulling out a book.

The book wasn’t anything special, just a novel that Sam recommended when you told him you needed something to occupy your time when you were at his shop the other day. It wasn’t a bad read and you were enjoying it quite a bit. You’d have to go to Sam for more recommendations in the future. You tilt your head slightly as you turn a page, rubbing the paper between your fingers for a moment. “I wonder why they chose to word it like that…” You mumble to yourself as you reread a sentence, the wording making it seem like it’s foreshadowing for something that will happen later in the novel.

A shadow overtakes your book and you glance up, expecting to see maybe Leona or Ruggie. Instead you find yourself staring into the bright green eyes of a lion. Your own eyes widen as the book falls from your fingers, landing softly in the grass. You look around you for anything, slowly scooting back to get away from the lion. “I…” As you scoot back the lion steps forward, making any distance you are attempting to gain vanish instantly. You feel your back press against the glass of the garden and your breath hitches.

Your hands feel clammy as they are pushed against the glass behind you, eyes watching every move the lion makes. The lion stalks forward, slowly. Mischief is coated in it’s eyes, like it’s playing with you. You close your eyes and turn your head away as it gets right in front of you. Your shaking slightly, of course this day had to get worse. How did a lion even get here in the first place?! These thoughts whirr through your head as you wait for something, anything, to happen.

Then you feel something rest on top of your head. You open your eyes and are met with nothing but dark brown meeting your vision. “Uhm…” You mumble, realizing the lion has rested it’s chin on top of your head. You make no movement as you watch the lion move once again. It turns…correction…he turns. You can now confirm it is a he. He turns, walking over to your book discarded in the grass. He lowers himself, picking it up gently between his teeth before lazily making his way back over to you.

The book is plopped into your lap before the head of the lion joins it. Your hands hover in the air as you stare at the beast who has chosen to use your lap as a pillow. He glances up at you lazily before his eyes shift to the book, nudging it into your stomach. You swallow the lump in your throat, taking the book into your hands and opening up to the last page you were on. “Uhm…hi?” You mumble out. Your response was an ear flicking and the lion turning to lay on his side. “Okay then…I’m…going to go back to reading now.” You mumble out, taking in the features of the animal on your lap.

He was a big lion. It would be impressive if you weren’t terrified out of your mind at the moment. When you are sitting he towers over you in height. His mane is a dark brown, the rest of him a lighter shade of the color. He has the brightest green eyes, they almost seem like they glow at times. The thing you notice the most though is the scar that sits over one of his eyes. You let out a small hum at your observation before you continue to read.

At some point, you can’t really say when exactly, you began to play with the lion’s mane while you read. You would thread the hair between your fingers, twirling the strands slightly. The lion didn’t seem to mind, eyes remaining closed and chest rumbling with pleasure. His tail idly moved against the grass as you absentmindedly talked about the novel. “I mean, I personally feel empathy for the villain. He was kind of forced into the role of the villain. It was the only option he had to survive really.” You hum as you look at the ceiling.

One of the lion’s eyes open, looking at you for a moment before it lets out a yawn. He stands and the warmth of him laying on your lap vanishes. He stretches, claws digging into the dirt slightly before turning to you, as if waiting. “Oh uhm-“ You’re quick to gather your things, standing as well. “I guess I’m hanging out with a lion today…” You fiddle with your shirt for a moment. “Let me just go say bye to someone really quick. He’s normally up by this time.” Before you can walk away the lion grabs your shirt between his teeth, not allowing you to move away from him.

“Hey! Let go! I gotta go say bye!” You attempt to get him to let go of your shirt. “Leona gets upset if I don’t say bye.” The lion’s tail flicks with irritation. Not budging on it’s choice of holding your shirt between his teeth. You let out a huff of annoyance, closing your eyes, “Listen, my patience is very short today and I’m really not in the mood. So let. go.” You tug again and feel the urge to yell as you watch your shirt rip. Your lips curl, eyebrows furrowing. “You know what? I’m leaving. I’ll text him later. I’m going back to my dorm.” You turn, ignoring the lion completely as you make your way out of the botanical garden, fully intent on going to the Hall of Mirrors.

People stare as you walk through the halls of the college and you can’t help but wonder if it is because of the rip in your shirt or if something else about you was out of place. In response to all the staring though you choose to keep your eyes to the ground. That is, until Headmaster Crowley stops you.

“And do tell, why you have a lion following you (Y/N)?” You look up, eyes widening as you look at your headmaster.

“But I do-why are you following me?!” You shout when you turn and spot the lion from the botanical garden sitting there. He lets out a yawn, tail flicking. You turn back to Headmaster Crowley, pointing at your follower. “I swear he is not mine.” The Headmaster lets out a laugh, head tilted back.

“I see differently! Now then, you know the rules about pets, even if this one is a little eccentric. I ask you return him to your dorm immediately.” Your eyes widen in alarm.

“But he’s not mine!” You stutter out, arms throwing out to your sides in alarm.

“Tsk, arguing with your Headmaster. Quick now before I choose to punish you accordingly.” The Headmaster wags a finger in your face before strutting off. Your hands clench into fists as you glare at his retreating back. You feel a tap on your shoulder and you whip around.

“What?” You growl out, pausing only to be met with Ace who holds his hands up in surrender.

“Woah! Chill, it’s just me. We still on for tonight?” You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t think I can help you, I have too much going on and I don’t-“

“But you said you would help! I could go to Deuce, but he’s too strict with studying. Riddle will have my head if I fail this and-“

“Ace please, I really can’t-“

“You don’t want me to fail do you?”

“Ace-“

“I mean rea-“ A deep growl cuts Ace off and you both turn to see the lion standing there, hair on the back of his neck standing up and tail flicking in annoyance. His ears are pinned back against his head, body lowered to the ground. It’s as if he’s daring for Ace to continue. Ace nervously laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “On second thought I’ll just ask Deuce! See ya (Y/N)!” With that, your friend is gone and you let out a tired sigh.

You turn to the lion, placing you hands on your hips. “Really?” You huff, but the lion ignores you beginning to walk down the hall. You throw your hands up in exasperation before trailing after the beast. It doesn’t take long for you to hear the whispers of the other students now that you are aware why they are whispering. The lion clearly doesn’t care though and continues to walk. At some point it ended up with you walking on the lion’s right and and the lion refusing to allow you to walk elsewhere other than the right side. Anytime you would move he would nudge you back into place.

“This is getting ridiculous…” You mumble as you make your way closer to the Hall of Mirrors. You notice a foot sticking out in an attempt to trip you and you simply hop over it, giving an unimpressed eye roll to the person who attempted to do it. Really? Tripping you is the best they can come up with. You continue to walk, the lion lazily walking beside you. “You know, I don’t have the means to take care of you right? There is no way I can properly care for a lion.” You tap your chin. “I could probably talk to Leona about a place for you…” You mumble and the lion huffs in amusement. “What? Got any better ideas?” He gives you a side eye and you roll yours in response. You’ve rolled your eyes so much today they might as well get stuck.

It always feels like you’re stepping through a waterfall when you use the mirror, but the thought slips out of your mind when you spot the familiar creaky wooden door of your dorm. With a sigh you push it open. The lion walks past you as you take your shoes off and place your items down, only to watch you collapse onto the couch with a huff. The lion stretches, walking it’s way over to you and nudging you with it’s snout. “Whaaaaaaat? Just give me five minutes dude!” You exclaim. “What do you even want?” The lion grabs your shirt and tugs, pulling you off of the couch. You land on the wooden floor harshly, laying there for a moment.

“That’s it. I’m going to bed. I’ll feed you tomorrow or whatever. I’m done. I don’t know what Crowley was thinking.” You stand, making your way to your bedroom and you open the door, letting out a noise of protest as the lion hops onto your bed and makes himself comfortable. “No! Absolutely not! That’s my bed!” The lion simply ignores you, tail flicking in amusement and you groan. You’re quick to take a shower and change in the bathroom, stepping out to see the lion fast asleep. You roll your eyes, crawling into bed yourself after turning off the light. At least he makes the chilly night air feel warm…

When you wake up the next morning it takes a moment or two for you to realize that you have arms wrapped tightly around you. You blink as your hazy mind clears, glancing down at the arms before looking up to be met with the sleeping face of Leona. You let out a yelp, scrambling and tumbling to the floor with the blanket. Leona lets out a groan.

“Do you really gotta be so loud herbivore?” He mumbles, voice still laced with sleep. You pull the blanket off of your head.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Leona peeks over the edge lazily, watching you with amusement as you sit on the floor.

“Sleeping obviously. You getting back in or no? You could even read your book or whatever.” You blink.

“Book? How do you- wait…” Then everything clicks and you point an accusatory finger at him. “You were the lion!” Leona rolls his eyes before rolling back over.

“Come on, get back in bed and read. Keeps you quiet.” You blink a few times.

“But we aren’t even dating how can you ju-“

“Fine. Now we’re dating. Come here.” You stand throwing the blanket back onto the bed.

“That’s not even how this works! You can’t just say that we’re dati-ah!” You gasp as you get yanked back down onto the bed and pulled into the chest of the beastman.

“I’ll take you out proper later. It’s still early. Now let me sleep.” You huff.

“Fine. But I pick.” You feel his hand play with your hair.

“Fine by me.”

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 8

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You make the poor choice of teasing Dr. Crane, so obviously he has to punish you.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, praise, edging, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, orgasm denial, cockwarming?, emotions? idk, neither does he tbh, bestie has no idea how to comfort you💀

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Trying really hard to keep his character accurate😓 lmk what y’all think lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 7

Neither of you mentioned his confession again. He seemed to be acting mostly normal and only a little awkward and withdrawn so you tried to remain the same to assure him that nothing changed. You were sitting on the couch, doodling with a spare piece of paper he found as well as an extra pencil, when you broke the silence. 

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” You asked, eyeing the large space that was empty save for a desk, a chair, and a couch. 

“The couch.” He said, not looking up from what he was working on. 

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” You asked, making him sigh and turn his gaze to you. “For now you may sleep on the couch, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much anyway.” 

“Oh. Don’t you have an apartment? A bed?” 

“The cops are going to be looking for everyone that escaped, including myself- especially myself, because I created what caused all of that.” 

“Oh… What if I go? I can bring you back some clothes so you don’t have to stay in that and anything else you need? I doubt I can lift a mattress on my own though.” 

“You want to go to my apartment in the middle of town, wearing that?” He asked, raising his brows. You looked down at your outfit and frowned, just now remembering that you’re wearing it still. 

“People are dumb enough to hang their laundry up outside. I’ll just take something before getting downtown.” You suggested, but back tracked when he was silent for a moment. “I don’t have to, it was just an idea.” 

“What will you do if the police show up?” 

“Um… I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend and I left something there that I need.” That made him scoff. 

“They won’t believe that.” 

“Fine. Ex boyfriend. Who’s been so busy working that I had to just go there myself.” You shrugged and he narrowed his eyes at you for a moment. 

“Fine. Know that if you get caught, I have no power or leverage anymore to help you.” Honestly you didn’t expect him to agree. You figured he might want to keep you within his sight at all times but that wasn’t the case. Trying not to read into this new found trust, you were going over the plan in your head. 

“Wait, is it even within walking distance?” You realized, worried the whole plan just fell apart. 

“It’s not on this island, so no. And the train is still down because of the bat.” 

“Oh… I can probably walk, it’ll just take me longer I guess.” The sun was rising anyway, so it’ll probably be fine. “Or I’ll ask someone for a ride.” 

“Do not do that.” He said sternly, making you frown. 

“Why not?” 

“Because this is Gotham and you are a young, attractive woman. You will more than likely be kidnapped, raped, or killed.” 

“What am I supposed to do then?” He let out a heavy sigh, and got something out of his desk drawer. When he told you to come to him, you stood, leaving the pencil and paper, and walked over. 

“Give me your hand.” You held your arm out to him and he gently grabbed your hand to put on a very weird shaped bracelet on your wrist. “In case you don’t have time to put the mask on, point it away from your face and hold your breath, then push this.” He pointed to a lever near the heel of your hand and you reached for it, trying to test the motion and get used to it, but he stopped you. 

“Not- now.” He strained, uncurling your fingers. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly. 

Then you were leaving, finding clothes that looked about the right size and changing in an alley behind a dumpster. The tricky part was the shoes but they’re subtle enough that they shouldn’t draw very much attention. You found an empty paper bag near the dumpster and put the mask in it then started looking for someone to drive you. You spotted an older woman getting into a car and immediately walked toward her. 

“Excuse me?” You said, making her pause. 

“No change, sorry.” 

“Oh no, I was actually hoping you could give me a ride. I have a job interview downtown and it probably wouldn’t make a good impression to show up all sweaty. But I understand if it’s too much trouble…” 

She only hesitated for a moment before agreeing, telling you to get in the back and asking for the address. You read it off the paper to her and ten minutes later you were pulling up in front of an apartment building. 

“You sure this is it?” 

“It’s for a small business.” You explained, quickly getting out of the car. “Thank you so much.” You dropped the smile as soon as you turned around to walk into the building. “Fuck,” You groaned, “I don’t have a fucking key.” How could you have forgotten that part? You decided to just walk inside, breathing a sigh of relief when you spotted a front desk. 

“Hi, I lost my key and my boyfriend’s out of town and I’m supposed to feed his cat,” 

“What number?” The man asked, bored. 

“178.” He reached back and grabbed a key, handing it to you impatiently. “Thanks...” He wasn’t lying when he said everyone and everything is corrupt or just doesn’t care. 

You made your way to the elevator and pushed 17. As you waited, you went over the list he gave you. Most of the stuff was easy, an extra pair of glasses in his desk drawer, a few pairs of clothes, shoes, a toothbrush as well as the extra one under the sink for yourself, etc. But you were mostly worried about the safe and the papers he wanted. What if you can’t open it? What if you grab the wrong ones?

The elevator opening with a ding removed you from your thoughts and you made your way to his door. You worked quickly, not wanting to increase your chances of getting caught, but you took the time to fold his suits, worried he’d be upset if you just threw them in his duffel bag. You opened the safe on the second try, putting the money that was in there in the duffel bag. 

Then you made your way to the desk. Even though the rest of the place was completely tidy, the desk was covered in different papers. He said they would be on top, not in a drawer, so you grabbed everything just to be safe. 

Before leaving, you went through his dresser, praying he wouldn’t be pissed, and got some shirts and sweatpants for yourself, as well as a hoodie and socks. 

The ride back was much easier since you had money to take a cab, but you still had to walk a few minutes, not wanting to be dropped off right in front of his “hideout” just in case. 

“No trouble?” He asked, barely glancing up from what he was writing. 

“Well I realized I forgot to ask about a key- speaking of which, you should probably move because the guy at the front desk just gave it to me.” The corners of his lips turned up and your cheeks went red, still not used to it. 

“Good job.” You stared at him in shock, feeling your cheeks heat up even more, but you tried to play it off. 

“Did you just compliment me?” You scoffed teasingly. 

“Don’t get used to it. Did you bring the papers I asked for?” 

“Oh- yeah.” You set the duffel bag on the desk and he opened it to inspect the contents. “I- I hope it’s okay, I brought just a few shirts and pants for myself too.” You said nervously. When he didn’t respond, you figured that meant it was okay. He started looking through the papers, then turned to you with raised brows. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring the wrong thing so I just took all of it.”

“Thank you.” He said, making your eyes widen. 

“Mhm.” Was all you could say in response. “Oh- here.” You said, suddenly remembering the wristband and taking it off to give it back. 

“Keep it.”

“What?” You choked out. “You- you’re not worried I’ll use it on you or something?” You asked, staring at him with furrowed brows. 

“Of course not.” He scoffed, then set the papers down and took out a suit and the shoes as you just waited awkwardly, not sure what to do. “Are you just going to watch?” He was teasing you, but there was still an edge to his voice. 

“N- no, sorry.” You blushed, turning around and staring at the ground, listening to the sound of clothes rustling behind you and thinking about how you’ve only ever seen his face, neck, hands, and cock- nothing else. The thought made you frown. “Unless it’s okay… then I’d like to watch.” You said quietly and the rustling stopped. 

“Why?” His tone was guarded. 

“I just- I haven’t seen you yet and you’ve seen all of me.” You explained meekly. “Nevermind, sorry.” You waited anxiously as you heard no movement from the man behind you. 

“Go ahead.” He said in a measured tone. You tentatively turned around, finding him in just a pair of dress pants, straight jacket on the floor and shirt in hand. The first thing you noticed was how lean he looks without his suit. The second were the small scars littering his torso. The third was his happy trail, leading down into his pants, teasing you. 

“Satisfied?” You looked up at him when you heard his voice, not able to read his expression. When all you could do was nod, his lips curled up into a small smirk. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll fuck you stupid over the desk.” He warned, voice laced with arousal. 

“Is that a promise, doctor?” You purred, stepping closer to him, setting the wristband on the desk to have both hands free. He stiffened, but allowed you to move until you were right in front of him. Staring deep into icy blue eyes, you slowly raised your hands, as if you were approaching a wild animal who could attack at any second. His eyes moved to your hands, watching, but he didn’t say anything. So you slowly moved them closer until you could almost feel the heat from his body against your palms. His eyes moved back to yours and you searched them for a deterrent. When you found nothing, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them down his stomach, making sure not to linger on any scars. You reached his pants and brushed over the button teasingly before snaking them back up his body. 

“You’re playing with fire.” He said lowly. Your hands reached his shoulders and you trailed them down his arms. Once you reached his hands, you grabbed the shirt and set it on the desk, then took both of his hands in yours, moving them around your waist. 

“On the contrary, Dr. Crane. I’m getting exactly what I want.” You placed your hands on his stomach again to snake around to his back. 

“Oh? And what’s that?” He said coyly, playing along. 

“You can let me keep teasing you to my heart's content or you can punish me. Either way I win.” You smirked, moving your hands down his back to his pants and following the waist line around his body until they met at the button. 

“You think you’ll enjoy however I choose to punish you?” He scoffed. 

“You said it yourself, doctor. You don’t want to hurt me. So I’m sure I can take it.” His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you wince as he pushed you against the desk. 

“Foolish girl. You underestimate my desire to watch you crying and begging for my forgiveness. I have no problem torturing you, in fact, I’ll enjoy it.” You faltered at that. “Does that frighten you?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“You don’t scare me anymore.” You said quietly, feeling the arousal in your stomach quickly make its way between your legs. 

“That’s not what I asked.” He teased and you swallowed thickly, squirming under his gaze. 

“No.” You tried to keep your voice steady. 

“Maybe not yet. But I’m sure it will soon.” He reached a hand up to wrap around your neck, squeezing and pulling you forward as your breath hitched. “I don’t have to hurt you to torture you. You should know that by now.” He said quietly, gaze straying to your lips. 

“I can take it.” You said, equally as quiet, not even believing the words as they left your mouth. 

“You think so?” He cooed and you nodded in response. “I guess we’ll find out then.” He took a step back and you whined at the loss of his touch, reaching out for him. “Pick it up.” He said, gesturing to the straight jacket. Your eyes moved anxiously between him and the garment, hesitating. “This is the only warning I’m giving you— You don’t want me to tell you again.” You leaned down and picked up the straight jacket, then waited for his next command. 

“Put it on.” 

“Dr. Crane,” You whined, but he raised his brows, making you close your mouth and reluctantly slide it on. He stepped closer again then started buckling the restraints. 

“You seem to think that pain is the only form of punishment I’ll inflict. I guess given my history I shouldn’t be surprised but you need to get that idea out of your head right now or things will only get worse for you.” You stared at him with wide eyes but his gaze remained on the task of restraining you. “There are plenty of ways I can punish you.” He said clinically, like a doctor explaining something to a patient. “Like denial, for example. Not just orgasm denial… You can’t touch me either.”  

“Please- I’m sorry.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes that did not work at all. 

“I bet you are. I bet you’ll say whatever it is you think I want to hear right now. Unfortunately, the only sounds I want from you are moans and cries.” He led you over to the couch and kneeled in front of you to pull down your pants and underwear before having you sit. He discarded your shoes so he could fully remove your clothes, then pulled you forward to the edge of the couch and spread your legs embarrassingly wide. 

“I think you also underestimate my patience. I am more than willing to do this as long as it takes.” He started dragging his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you, never getting close to where you wanted him.   

“Please.” You whined as your hips started squirming. 

“Come now… We haven’t even started and you’re already begging? At least save that until the actual torture begins.” 

“Don’t want torture.” You muttered. 

“No? I thought you said this would be a win for you? That you can take it.”

“Please.” You whined, much brattier this time— all but throwing a fit.  

“There’s that attitude.” He chuckled. “Keep that up. It makes it more fun for me when you break.” His hands snaked up your thighs, then back down, teasing you. You whined and squirmed, but surprisingly, it worked. He moved a hand between your legs, swiftly pushing in two fingers and rapidly curling them against your walls. You let out a choked moan from the sudden pleasure as your head rolled back onto the couch and your hips bucked. He pulled you even farther down the couch, then leaned down and took your clit in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” You said through a moan, hips flinching as he groaned against you in response. Lifting your head to look down at him, you found his eyes already on you, making you blush and squirm under his gaze. After getting so turned on and not coming when you sucked him off before, your orgasm approached quickly. The volume of your moans increased as you started trying to rut against his face. He suddenly pulled back, his fingers halting, making you whine. 

“Please, I was so close.” You pouted. 

“I know.” He leaned back down, resuming the motions of his fingers as he started working your clit over in his mouth again. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, but you let out a choked sob when he stopped. 

“Please!” You cried. 

“Shh. Be a good girl and take your punishment.” He muttered before leaning back down and continuing. You weren’t sure how many times you were on the cusp of pleasure before it was ripped away from you, but you knew it was at least five— after that you weren’t able to concentrate on counting through your crying and desperation. He pulled back but continued moving his fingers as you babbled out incoherent pleas. 

“I have to admit, my patience is wearing thin so I’ll only keep this up for a little longer.” You sobbed in relief at his words. “Once I’m ready to come, I’m gonna fuck your ass. Remember how much you liked it before? It won’t be nearly as pleasurable this time and you certainly won’t be able to come from it.” 

“No- no, please.” You said, panicked. The thought of being empty was enough to intensify your crying. “Please- I don’t care if I don’t come, just please fuck me.” You whimpered. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said softly, but you just shook your head. 

“No, I- I need your cock- please!” 

“How do I know you won’t come?” He asked, slowing his fingers to a stop before removing them, making you whimper at the emptiness. 

“I won’t! Please- I promise I won’t!” He watched you cry for a moment before cursing under his breath and working on taking his cock out of his pants. 

“Can’t fucking say no to you.” He muttered, helping you to lay down on the couch as he crawled over you. The second he pushed in, you let out a relieved sob that turned into a whine when you tried to move your arms. 

“Please- I want to touch you. Please let me touch you.” You whimpered, watching the way his brows furrowed as his mouth opened in a silent moan when he was all the way in. 

“I can’t, you still need to be punished.” He said breathlessly and you sobbed the hardest you have all night so far.  

“Please! Please- I’m sorry!” You cried and he shushed you as he brought a hand up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s okay.” He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started moving. Trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear, he whispered, “You’re doing so well, little one. Making me feel so good.” You sobbed harder at the pet name— not used to such affection from him. 

“Oh god,” You moaned, already feeling close again. When he picked up the pace and began kissing and marking your neck, you started panting again. You tried to at least tone down your sobbing a little bit, but after you started, it was really hard to stop. 

“Fuck- I’m already close.” He whined, rutting into you desperately now. His hands never left your body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out quiet moans and shaky breaths. When he stilled with a low groan, your cunt ached at the way his cock was twitching inside you, painting your walls with his come. After a moment, his moans stopped and he was panting heavily into your shoulder. When he started pulling out, you sobbing intensified. 

“No! Please- please don’t- not yet.” You whimpered. 

“I need to get this off of you.” He said, lifting his head from your neck to look at the straight jacket. 

“I don’t care- just please don’t leave yet.” You cried. 

“Okay- It’s okay. Sit up like this.” He maneuvered you so that he was sitting on the couch and you were straddling his hips, his cock never leaving you. He started working on the straight jacket, unbuckling all of it until he could slip it off if you and toss it on the floor. Now that your hands were free, you realized that you couldn’t even do anything with them, not without making him uncomfortable. So you continued crying. 

“Okay, just- come here.” He muttered, pulling you down to lay on his chest. Your hands gripped his shoulders tight as you turned your cheek, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands fumbled around for a moment before eventually settling on your hips and you knew that he was probably miserable right now. Honestly you’re surprised he didn’t just throw you off of him instead. 

“I’m sorry- I…” He shushed you, not letting you continue babbling out apologies. 

“Just breathe.” He said softly and you couldn’t help but obey. You let out a slow shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “That’s it. Just focus on breathing. You did so well for me, I’m very proud.” You let out another quiet sob at the praise and shushed you again as he moved a hand up to your hair, lightly stroking it to soothe you. 

“You’re okay.” He said softly. “Just breathe— you’re okay.”

Part 9

(For the sake of the plot, bestie is no longer taking oral contraceptives because he had her get an iud or something back in Arkham lol)

[capslocked]

UNRAVEL

male reader x kim jisoo

6k words

It’s all a mess honestly. You need her. She needs you. Just none of it in the same way.

-

It’s late as you arrive through the front door of your apartment. Just into the kind of hours that saw the lion’s share of your reckless decisions. So, it’s not unreasonable that you’d find her here now—sunk into the cushions of your sofa, finger against her temple, eyes halfway attending some novel she pulled off your bookcase—she more than knows what she’s doing.

Keys, wallet, phone all clamor and rattle as you set them down on the narrow table inside your foyer.

"I must’ve missed when we decided you could just let yourself in."

"Well if we’re splitting hairs," Jisoo says, waiting for the sound of a page to flip between her fingers, "You’re the one who gave me a spare key."

"If we’re splitting hairs Jisoo—it was for emergencies."

"And?"

"And." You shove your hands into your pockets.

She closes the book gently, no effort spent to bookmark or dog-ear a corner, and rests it on her thigh. "What if you’d gone missing? Drank yourself to death or got pushed in front of a bus. That’d be an emergency now wouldn’t it."

"So, just a hypothetical one then. Got it."

A humorless laugh and she smiles, the unmistakable glow in her eyes reeling you into her. "Don’t act too happy to see me."

You unsling your bag from your shoulder. "I don’t suppose you could’ve called?"

"Funny." Jisoo tilts her chin up at you. "I was about to say the same thing."

The step you take up into the living room as Jisoo rises from her seat is an apprehensive one. The lights are dimmed just barely bright enough to read by. And try as you may, Jisoo’s silhouette is the only thing your tired eyes can find a place to rest in. Maybe it’s how the moonlight catches her pale skin or the way she gets gently washed in those soft blues and greens of the city’s nighttime neon that pour diffuse through your windows. It’s almost necessary to remind yourself that it’s your apartment the two of you are standing in. Always there’s this precise, polished look about her—she owns every room she steps into.

Jisoo tucks a stubborn strand of midnight hair behind her ear before tapping a finger on the book she’d placed down on the coffee table. "It’s a good read by the way."

You glance at its cover and a derisive laugh blows out your nose. "So what was all that then—about not reading anything that isn’t at least a hundred years old—time tested you called it."

Jisoo hides a quiet smile as she lets her eyes wander a moment to her feet. "It’s close enough to a hundred isn’t it? Besides, it’s Gatsby, I can make an exception."

"Speaks to you, huh?"

"There’s just something so magical about the way he chases Daisy, ya know? That’s the kind of love I want. Waking up every morning knowing someone out there needs you."

"I’m willing to bet most readers end up sympathizing with Jay—all with the anguish of pursuing a woman who’s completely unobtainable?" You toss your work bag over the back of the sofa. "Just the kind of thing I’d hope mostly to avoid."

When Jisoo squares her shoulders to yours, you find yourself swallowing at an impossible thirst in your throat. Brains, beauty, wit. It’s probably the hundredth time she’s run through your thoughts today, and you can’t still figure out anything you don’t like about her, at least not on paper. So, you continue on, unfortunately thinking so very often about her—the way she smiles when you hold her, the way her eyes soften when her face is inches from yours, the way she runs her fingers through your hair—perfect. That’s how you’d describe her; if perfect could ever hope to be a pejorative.

"I think you worry too much." Her svelte figure finds itself easily in the space in front of yours and she wraps her fingers around the bottom of your necktie. She’s not even touching you and it’s making it hard to breathe. "Wouldn’t you say?"

Were you to flip through a calendar and search for the day you’d first undressed her in your apartment, you’d have to start by grabbing one more and then rifle back about eighteen months or so to put your finger on it. Only now should you have instead cut from those pages the time you’d actually spent together—most of it between the sheets mind you—you doubt it would manage to stitch together more than a few weeks. That was the nature of your relationship.

It’s not like we’re dating ya know.

Jisoo was always rather firm on this point.

And god, had you grown weary of hearing it. Usually a non-sequitur in its arrival, it would bounce and rattle around your thoughts for days, the warm voice behind it painfully clear and articulate. All because you’d made the mistake of bringing it up one time.

It really ought to be the kind of thing that closed more doors than it opened, answered more questions than it raised. The sentence probably deserved a period. Granted, there wasn’t yet an empty wine bottle in the sink nor were your clothes scattered about in different states of undress around the room, but you recognize the feeling—hanging on the end of a comma.

"I told you. I’m not going to do this anymore." You begin to twist your arms out from the sleeves of your coat. "I felt like I was pretty clear about it."

You were.

"What—in the hotel?" Jisoo sneaks behind you and helps coax the jacket off your shoulders, laughing to herself. "That conversation? The one you and I had just fifteen minutes before you pinned me against the wall, pulled my skirt up and—"

"Jisoo."

"Yeah. How presumptuous of me to assume you’d changed your mind," she adds, stressing a rasp in that ever-so-husked voice of hers. She ignores your protest, mostly because you let her; you always let her; she knows you always let her.

Quickly, her body against yours becomes a question, the racing of your heart its familiar answer.

"Jisoo," you repeat, finding it difficult to search for an authoritative voice all at the hand reaching under your chin, the heat of a short breath against your jaw, those parted lips dragging against your cheek. Dig your heels in. "I’m serious."

"Come to think of it—isn’t it a little late?" she asks, kissing you again just beyond the corner of your mouth. Her voice is cool, gentle breaths warm on your skin. "To just now be coming in the door? To be honest, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show at all."

"Well don’t act surprised." You gently pull her hand by the wrist away from your chest. "This is where I sleep."

Jisoo fixes on you, those sweeping eyelashes keeping a pair of narrowed eyes entirely unreadable. "But that’s not always true now is it? In fact, tonight you were counting on sleeping somewhere else, no?"

"How do you figure all that?"

"Because your clothes smell like tobacco and cheap beer." She raises an eyebrow and begins teasing the fabric of your shirt up from out of your pants. "Do you at least have a good excuse? Something creative maybe?"

"You really want a creative one?"

Her eyes become soft for a moment before narrowing again and her lips part into an all-too-alluring shape. "No, not particularly."

"Fine then. Work," you answer. "The team wanted to do a happy hour. Or maybe a few."

"At an izakaya?" Her face tilts until it finds a look of skepticism that matches the inquisitive tone in her voice.

"Something like that."

"Are you drunk?"

"Well I can’t say I’m sober."

"And Rosie," she says, blinking slowly, "you two met there or some place later?"

Chin up, you twist a confused eyebrow over the top of a dry laugh. "Now what might give you that impression?"

A smirk pulls up on the corner of Jisoo’s lip, and in one quick motion she pinches between her fingers at a long strand of golden blonde hair from just beneath your collar. "You’re still wearing her on your shirt, handsome."

A deep breath marks your response as you bite softly into the inside of your cheek.

"Thought so. Now, I’m not so brash as to ask for details, but considering you’re here, and she isn’t… I can’t imagine she invited you up for coffee after you kissed her outside her—"

"Has anyone ever told you you’re a little tightly wound?"

Jisoo takes a moment, slightly disarmed. "Once or twice."

"I’ve gotta ask—is this something you do just to get into bed with me?"

"Not at all." She smiles. Always it manages to distract from the way she inches ever closer to you. "Getting into bed with you is a completely separate affair."

Of course there’s some sort of game here. And one day you’ll learn how to win at it, or at least the rules, or even just how it’s scored (in spite of the fact Jisoo seems keen on changing all of it constantly). Too quickly however, before whatever prudent thoughts might rebuke them, it’s your hands that give you away. The thin fabric of her blouse beneath your fingers, you map the familiar shapes and curves where Jisoo’s waist meets her hips.

You shake your head across a series of breathy laughs. "And just what does that look like Jisoo?"

She leans into you, her palms sliding slowly up your chest. "From the top? Because right now, I’d guess we’re just getting into the real thick of it."

She stands close to you, her body now breaking all sorts of boundaries. The flavor of her perfume hits your nose and she’s resting a thigh against yours. Those parted lips hover just in front of your face—pink, narrow and wildly irresistible. Reach forward and you can simply take them.

You swallow again and your eyes shift away from hers before they might grab hold of you like quicksand. "You think I don’t know how it starts?"

"Oh?" She starts again at the skin on your neck, each kiss lingering longer and melting into your skin until finally she holds herself just over your lips. The breaths of her sultry voice crash onto your face, "Go on then, let’s hear it."

You straighten yourself out, earning you the fleeting remains of your personal space. "I mean it’s all more or less the same right? You sit down, we chat, nonsense mostly. I ask you how your trip was, you tell me about Paris, Milan, New York City or another."—always she was coming and going and coming and going—"I offer you something to drink, you ask if I have any wine, I bring out that bubbly stuff I keep buying even though you’re the only one who cares to drink it—"

"Ha. You know I had my suspicions." The soft, round tip of Jisoo’s nose drags across your cheek as she reaches up in her heels and finds her lips onto the bottom of your ear. In seconds, her voice fills your head completely. "And then what?"

Of course, your precocious hands can’t stop reaching further behind Jisoo—into the narrow ridge that runs up the center of her back, to the curve of her ass, the bottoms of her shorts inviting you to venture beneath them. You clear your throat before giving her the response she wants, "The cork comes off, clothes not too long after and tongues are in mouths I suppose."

Jisoo hangs off your shoulders with a hand slowly twisting up the length of your tie. A sculpted eyebrow dips and her expression nearly pouts. "Just mouths?"

"Well—"

"Maybe you ought to remind me—all those things your tongue can do."

It’s the same every time. Eighteen months of limbo, of seeing, not seeing, seeing, not seeing this girl who moved far faster than you could ever hope to keep up with. You’d promised yourself to have an ounce of resolve—something, anything, that even looked like resolve would do. Now of course, Jisoo was never going to outright put her lips to yours and kiss you. No, that’s something she leaves for you. Because she knows. When you’re in her hands like this? Inevitable.

If it had started slow, you missed it entirely.

The swell of her lower lip twitches, and you crash hard into her. The way her lips curve and arch—unbelievable, the pretty things—they remind you just how right it feels to take them in your own. The long lashes across her eyes tickle and tease you until you’re both staring into the stars behind your eyelids and struggling to breath steady. It’s entirely reckless, and absolutely dangerous, but somewhere in this tumultuous endeavor, you can only ever know the calming touch of her cool, wet lips against yours calling you home.

She’s small, her narrowed shoulders between your arms easy to hold yourself around. The staggered breaths moving haphazard through her chest push against you as she melts into your embrace.

You hold her tight, just underneath where her shoulder blades rise from the middle of her back, pressing further and pulling her into you until she gasps into your kiss. Before you realize it, you’ve got her bent back at the knees, holding on tightly to you with those dainty arms wrapped around your neck as you chase deeper into her lips.

When you’d heard she was in town, again, from a fashion show or a film festival (honestly it’s become impossible to remember), this was the exact scene you’d intended to avoid. Of all the girls you’ve never dated, Jisoo was intent on somehow being the most impossible to break up with.

"Mmnph…" Jisoo swallows down a choked breath and takes a beat to gather herself as a small distance comes to exist between your lips. You open your eyes and she’s staring right back into yours, these deep shimmering pools of dusty browns and grays. Her cheeks glow a faint pink. She bats her eyelashes. The corners of her eyes crease and she’s got this smile, it's always that smile, the rare kind you doubt you’ve stumbled upon more than a handful of times in your life. Effortless and delicate, it wraps you up into her. Even though its radiant and beaming for all to see, you swear when she’s here—like this—it only focuses on you with this ever-tempting prejudice in your favor.

She wets her lips and lets a sultry voice interrupt the moment, "Well, what are you going to do now?"

It’s been a long day. Your heart is tender, tired, sore. Fuck, It’s been a long eighteen months. Tugging at the shirt bunching in your fingertips, you answer her, simply taking her lips again.

She gasps when you push her into the wall and again when you place your knee between her thighs. There’s five buttons down the front of her blouse, two more at the waist of her shorts. Your hand feels slowly down the shape of her slim figure, and they all come undone while Jisoo’s tongue begins to slip gently between your lips.

She shifts her weight between her legs. And as if you’d cut some invisible thread holding the entire delicate assemblage together, those garments make their way to the floor. It’s instinctual the way your hands wrap around Jisoo, finding the perfect shape of her ass. Your fingers squeeze into soft skin and a hushed, accidental moan spills from her throat into yours.

A barely-there trail of spit between your mouths grows until it vanishes into the dark as you pull your face away from Jisoo—her eyes open slowly and rest weary in yours. She’s so beautiful it often takes the words right off your lips. You’d grown to know it impossible to ask promises or demands of her, but the way she holds you right now, her hands on your chest and back, her eyes soft and welcoming, it always manages to keep the embers of a fire—that cruel thing of hope—stoked and burning gently inside you.

She grabs gently at your wrist, guiding you sternly to where she really needs you—between her legs. Your fingertips brush the skin beneath her waist, atop her underwear and she places her words in your ear, "now come, feel me."

The loose fitting lace of her panties bunches in your palm the further you venture to reach into that smoldering warmth between her thighs. She grasps tight at your shoulders, lifts her chin and shudders as your finger drags across the pair of lips hidden beneath it all.

Again her voice rests atop a whisper, some silent curse or another.

Bathed in the soft light of the moon, Jisoo has this almost ethereal beauty about her. When she moves—and nearly imperceptible when she does—the dance of light and shadows scatters into these mesmerizing shapes across the pale skin of her body. The cast of those shadows, dark and unrelenting like India ink, tease her image through your head where your thoughts scramble to capture it however incomplete and grainy.

Sneaking under the loose elastic around her waist, knuckles tenting the hopeless fabric, you finally feel her. A wetness pools at her entrance. And just beyond it, the unmistakable heat that radiates from inside her. With a delicate touch, the rough pads of your fingers dip and play. Jisoo bites her lip at that chord you strike against her aching mound and a sharply sucked chestful of air tugs at the muscles in her stomach, scattering again those shadows the night had lain across it.

She swallows and closes her eyes. Lilting into that deepened register of her voice, Jisoo continues to reel you into her. "There you go. I love the way you touch me."

The strap of a black lace bra rolls between her fingertips and slides off her shoulder. She leans forward, pinching a kiss onto your neck as the garment begins to reveal more and more of that porcelain skin beneath her collarbones. The swelling roundness of her breast fills your hand and a stiff nipple finds its way amidst the grip of your thumb and finger.

Jisoo’s kisses again land in your ear. "C’mon. Don’t play."

It’s all a mess honestly. You need her. She needs you. Just none of it in the same way. So repeatedly, drawn inextricably and spiraling toward some spectacular cosmic catastrophe, the two of you find one another.

Seldom do you have even a moment to consider it—especially given all the ways Jisoo needs you. Sometimes she demands just the first two knuckles of a finger, sometimes your lips, the broad stroke of your tongue, occasionally it becomes the paradoxical freedom she finds in your hand around her throat. Even knowing few bounds, it’s impressive how simply she takes it all off you. Her fingers set tight into muscle behind your shoulder, and she moves, hips beginning to shuffle and rock against the forever reliable shape of your hand.

Her lips part and a moan punched through them sticks a humid breath against your face. "Ohhh my god—yes."

She knows it’s selfish, but she doesn’t care. Those words off her lips hit your ears and your heart drums at a dull beat from deep within your chest.

A yelp, and a sudden draw of cold air past her teeth, you find Jisoo quickly filling with want and need in your hands. Her nipple between your fingers becomes a second target of torment and her muscles jump as you find the aching bud atop her lips with a heavy touch of your thumb.

"This bad, huh?" you ask, feeling Jisoo’s body twist and unsettle in your grip. "Rough week?"

Jisoo’s lips break their kiss onto your neck, sighing. "No worse than usual."

"Yeah?" Your fingers dip again into that wet pool collecting into a sticky mess at her entrance. "Jisoo, you’re fucking soaked."

"Then maybe you ought to get down there and take care of it."

Just past where her aching folds surround her clit, you slip a finger into that tight warmth. Jisoo stifles a moan and you lift your chin, looking down your nose at the sight in front of you. "And how might I be able to do that?"

Struggling against your fingers, she answers, "If you’re—asking me to say it—you’re barking up the wrong—"

"Jisoo." Your shoulders drop and your head tilts into that angle—the one that pleads for a reasonable response—not that it ever has the efficacy it needs, no matter how meticulously practiced the look now is. "For christ’s sake, enough with that. You and I both know that you aren’t—"

"Your little slut?"

"Well—I was going to say a princess—but good on you to prove my point."

"You know it’s always my favorite part right?" Jisoo’s eyes narrow and a dangerous smile fills across her cheeks. "Watching you—pretend and toil like you don’t want to fuck me."

You can’t help but laugh, something about the way it cools your nerves. "Oh trust me—I know I shouldn’t—but I stopped pretending a long time ago."

"Well then, I suppose—if we’re not going to beat around the bush." Her voice in your ear becomes a command. "You can get on your knees. And give me your tongue."

Your hand out from between her legs, dragging a sheen of her wetness across her waist, you push her hip fast against the wall. A disgruntled whine leaves Jisoo’s lips, but the kiss you place on her neck is quick to pacify the complaint.

Slow, meticulous, every inch a purposeful destination, you dive. A trail from her neck to her collarbone, her soft skin meets your lips. The taste of it all—beyond her sweat, her scent—it quickly fills your thoughts, abstract but every bit as familiar. Your mouth latches around the tight bud atop her breast. The way your tongue and your teeth around it make her squirm sets a reminder in your head to visit the tender flesh again.

Now hovering beside her thighs, you chuckle at Jisoo’s hips beginning to search for you while you pull her underwear down the smooth curves of her legs. Your tongue clicks and you begin to chide her, "Jisoo—so needy—"

"Don’t start." She threads her fingers through your hair and pulls you into her. The breath you draw through your chest is moist, filled with the sweet smell of her excitement. Your nose brushes against her clit, your fingers tease the shallow depths of her entrance, and your tongue meets her lips, wanting.

She shudders. And her voice dips out of its usual composed timbre, meeting a contented sigh that shakes and moves her whole body. "Ohhhh."

The lips around her heat fold and twist under each slow, methodical, swirling pass of your tongue. Her hands pull you into her and your mouth forms kisses that suck and massage at her mound, finding again the familiarity of her reactions—a quick breath, a soft mewl, sometimes when you really find where she needs you, she curses.

When you look up, Jisoo’s eyes stare back at you with a heavy longing, her chin tucked and a hand holding the dark, wavy hair out of her face. The pleasure you brew between her legs has begun now to agitate these erratic waves of movement in the surface of her stomach, all as her muscles jump and her chest draws heavy gasps of air.

"That feels so good—"

You reach behind her, and a handful of Jisoo’s perfect ass helps guide her hips into your efforts while the other explores the wet mess you’ve created between her thighs. Her slick walls tighten around the length of your finger and Jisoo parts her lips, letting a muted whine spill loose from her chest as the shape of a second finger finds its way inside her.

Releasing your seal around her wet folds with a smack, you narrow your tongue, its firm tip quick to become a reliable partner for her aching clit—quick to become exactly the toy Jisoo needs.

Shuffling about, she turns her bra around on her chest and unclasps the stubborn thing before sending it careening to the floor. Completely naked for you now, the grind of her body against your mouth becomes more urgent, more selfish, seeking her own release on the shape of your tongue. Her lip caught between her teeth, she whispers, barely audible to you now in between her thighs, "right there—fuck your tongue."

Her knees begin to weaken and buckle. Locked in conflict, Jisoo’s building pleasure struggles against her desire to stand, holding her right where she needs to be, where your tongue can continue to deliver the swirling, tapping, teasing touches that race to bring her to the brink. When your fingers find the throbbing skin behind her clit, putting the poor swollen bud between a rock and a hard place, Jisoo begins to pant in fits and starts. The only thing clenching harder than her teeth are the muscles beginning to tense and lock around you.

You can feel your chin become slick, Jisoo’s wetness practically dripping onto your shirt, and those whispers become stuck in an endless loop, "keep going, keep going."

Ever since you’d known each other, and probably long before that, Jisoo’s very fabric had been stiffly woven into this spitting image of perfection—always concerned about the way people saw her, how people talked about her when she wasn’t listening, whether or not she might say something with even a hint of the wrong inflection. It has to be utterly exhausting. And you knew possibly better than her: where to find those loose threads that had been tucked and hidden away. A tap or a tease here, a pull and a twist there, and you see to it that Jisoo unravels.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!—Fuuuuuck."

Sharp fingernails dig into the back of your head, pressing you tight against her wet, aching mound. Her legs lock, muscles tighten, and in a moment of brief triumph, you look at her—taking in the sight of Jisoo coming undone.

Holding onto a silent moan, her expression twists, all scrunching and wrapping around the knuckle she keeps tight between her teeth. Nearly folding herself in half, she holds most of her weight against you as she reels in pleasure. You study each quiver and shake that seizes her body as the walls come down around her.

It’s somewhat of a mangled heap you two finally connect into onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. You’re the first to rise considering that your recovery was just about complete when you’d wiped the excessively wet surface of your mouth and chin with the back of your sleeve.

"God." Her lungs still gasping for air, she catches your stare with a pair of half-lidded eyes. "You’re fucking dangerous."

You suppose that makes two of you.

Beads of sweat form where her dark, silky hair wisps into soft strands at her temples. Her legs continue to carry on a slight wobble, walking across the carpet in your living room. And through it all, her unwavering commitment to seducing your every thought remains entirely steadfast—each step offering you a clear picture of her elegant figure, completely nude for you eyes to enjoy.

She places the palms of her hands on the room’s single window, a tall simple piece of glass that stretches from the floor to the ceiling, and she creates this irresistible curve from where her neck meets her shoulders to where her waist flares into the perfect roundness of her hips.

Jisoo pulls her face over her shoulder, her eyes peeking over it and she tells you everything you need to hear, "Get those clothes off—and come fuck me."

She doesn’t have to ask twice.

Tie, shirt, shoes, belt, pants, underwear all make this hapless trail throughout the room as you follow in the sound of Jisoo’s voice. You’re like a moth fluttering its wings in anxious proximity to a flame, the way she just makes your body move without thinking.

"Tell me," she says.

You position yourself behind her, fingers gingerly pumping your own cock as if it could even get any harder.

"Tell me—just how far do you think you’d have gotten with Rosé?"

"What’s with that?" You lick your palm and dip it between Jisoo’s thighs, but you should’ve known without needing any confirmation—she’s as slick as can be. "What’s it to you?"

Jisoo laughs quietly, "I mean the girl’s a grade A prude—"

A gasp interrupts Jisoo as you press your cock against the lips of her pussy, presented neatly in between her creamy thighs in front of you. You watch as she grips onto you inch by inch and all but pulls you into her inviting heat.

"So?" you ask.

The girl in your hands finds herself looking again over her shoulder, her eyes begging you to fuck her. "So—I’m sure you're a hell of a lot happier now that you’re about to have me."

"If I remember correctly—" And you’re more than sure you do. You start pushing your cock past the hot, tight seal of her lower lips. You find her wet and ready and wanting you, but still she needs to adjust to something bigger than just the narrow width of your fingers. "Weren’t you more of the same?"

You press your thighs against hers and Jisoo moans, the airy sound becoming her only response. Her shoulders rise and fall as she settles into the shape of you. All the same it manages to yank a groan out of your chest, only it fills you with this yearning for more of the warmth and tightness that now surrounds you.

"Am I wrong here?" You ask, bending forward against the arch of Jisoo’s back. You mock the aloof sound of her voice, "Miss I-don’t-usually-do-this."

Your hands grip onto Jisoo’s waist as you drag yourself back and press forward into her again, and you watch her body move, a ripple traveling through her thighs to her hips.

"Tha-That doesn’t sound like me."

Teeth starting to clench and grind, you whisper under your breath at the ridiculousness of it all, "you’re right—it certainly doesn’t."

It’s a delicate motion made across the velvety skin of her sopping pussy, but you come to bury your shaft in that slick heat of her cunt again. The way Jisoo feels—so impossibly tight and hot around your cock—you swear as though she were designed specifically with you in mind. Like a fucking glove. Bent at the waist, the angle lets you bury yourself deep, and at the end of each thrust, you have to make an effort not to simply lose yourself right then and there.

Slowly, you work up to a tempo that makes it difficult to carry much of any meaningful conversation at all. And all too quickly the angle you find against her hips sends Jisoo into a satisfying fit of panting breaths. You watch each one as it draws through her chest and lands hot against the glass, quickly becoming fogged and littered with hand prints.

Each collision between your hips fills your apartment with its fleshy sound, her taut wet skin against yours making for a particularly satisfying clap.

"So - fucking - good," Jisoo manages through her gritted teeth. 

You soak up the perfect hourglass shape in front of you, holding tight at its stem. The city lights on the other side of the window manage to paint Jisoo in this fantastic myriad of colors. Blues, greens, reds, all these unnatural tones against the pale skin of her face, her back, her ass—she looks as if someone had decided to paint her and let their imagination run wild.

You can’t help but wonder what it looks like from the other side. Your room is only a few floors above street level, and anyone looking up would undoubtedly see Jisoo struggling to maintain her ridiculous posture, the beautiful features of her face fast becoming wracked with pleasure—not that either you or her seemed to care.

"Fuck, Jisoo I swear—you are too tight!" you groan, but there’s never any real purpose to the complaint. The force of each thrust against Jisoo’s tight body sends her inching closer to the glass in front of her until her shoulders are pressed tight to it and your bodies nearly parallel.

Jisoo strains on the tips of her toes to meet your height, to where your cock delivered this impossible pleasure to the burning heat of her cunt. Her hands search on the window in front of her for something to grab onto, but quickly come up with nothing as the glass offers no such reprieve in its unyielding, bare surface. The best you can do to help is to hook your fingers around her elbows and pull her back, helping her stay upright

"Fuck me, you feel amazing Jisoo."

"You’re—Jesus—so hard right now ya know?" Jisoo labors to swallow again. "Don’t even think about cumming inside me just yet."

"Honest, I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I put my cock in you."

"Don’t you dare." She turns her to where you can see her face in profile, pulling you forward to kiss and breath heavy against her cheek. "Just shut up and fuck me."

There was hardly any room for misunderstanding in that.

The impact of your hips against hers continues to shake all kinds of curses and whines from her lips. She struggles to keep her head over her shoulder, eventually just resting one side of her face against the cold glass. But still she manages to hold you in her gaze, at least half of it, laboring fruitlessly to keep that usual cool expression from bending and yielding to the pleasure between her legs—incredible how quickly it all begins to fall apart at the seams.

"God! Right there!" she squeals, "it’s so fucking good—" All the words out of her mouth come in various states of composure, some of them airy, some rasped, others staccato and repeating—an utter mess pooling in your ears, but even still, they harmonize perfectly.

"Yes - god - fuck - that’s it." Struggling on her words, she sucks air sharply against her teeth and shuts her eyes tight. "Make me cum again—I’m so close!"

An intense heat smolders from deep inside Jisoo’s cunt, melting and aching around you. You recognize just how badly she needs to cum on your cock all because it’s the exact same chain reaction every time—muscles lock, lips part, eyebrows scrunch, and in a final desperate breath, she finds her lip between her teeth.

You lift yourself as much as Jisoo’s desperate grip on your shoulders will allow and search for her hips with your hands. She squirms as you hold her firm, pushing her tight, quivering body into the glass, and you take the opportunity that only the throes of orgasm might provide—to use her exactly how you need. If she’s going to cum twice, surely you’ve got the green light to have a crack at it once.

The muscles in your legs start to heat and stiffen as you push yourself into that tight warmth more urgent and frenzied than you could ever hope keep up with, but it doesn’t matter—It was never going to take a whole lot to fuck and pump yourself there.

"Jisoo," your voice strains, "I’m gonna—"

"Yeah—do it," she rasps, reaching her hands back and grabbing on tight to your thighs.

You drop your face into the silky hair behind her ear, selfishly taking in the addictive smell of her sweat and perfume. Your balls tense, you find a shallow breath to hold onto, and driving your cock into her again, you bury your cum deep into the tight depths of her throbbing heat.

"There you go. Let it out," Jisoo whispers against the window with a voice grown hoarse. "Cum in me like you always do—fucking fill me up."

You can count the seconds where you’re not sure if you’re alive or dead while you release yourself in Jisoo’s cunt—which by all means, is a warmth, a wetness, a tightness you could live in forever—but the ringing in your ears, the incorrigible knot in your stomach knocking on your throat, you feel yourself returning.

Your muscles burn, the curiously sour stench of sex fills your nose, and you collapse atop the mess you’d turned Jisoo into, the two of you gasping for breath and finding comfort in the cold touch of the window pane.

You share a moment of exhaustion between the two of you. Breaths heave midst your chests and sweat beads at your brow. As quick as it comes, the moment passes. Her hands relax from the makeshift handles she’d found on either cheek of your ass. And with two gentle pats to your rear, she more than makes herself understood.

Jisoo clears her throat. "Alright - get up - I need some water, and then I get to be on top."

—

When you wake up, there’s this mood in the room. Sofa cushions are on the floor, your clothes still trailing from the foyer entry to the window, the wrappers from a late night snack—but of course, as per usual, Jisoo’s nowhere to be seen.

You shuffle your feet from your bedroom door to the kitchen to find a note on the fridge.

"That’s new," you say under your breath, pulling the sticky note in front of your eyes and rubbing the sleep from out of them.

"Had to bounce. Borrowed that book by the way. I need to know what happens—does Jay get the girl of his dreams? Is there a happily ever after? Don’t spoil it for me. I’ll be back to return it soon enough.

Jisoo"

"That woman—I swear," you grumble, "it’s not a happy ending."

[fishsticksloser]

Could I ask for a future Rise Donnie x fem reader that is angst that could possibly turn to comfort where reader has doubts about being with him because maybe he has been spending more time to finish up a project and idk where i was goin i jsut crave sweet sweet ✨Emotional Devastation✨

Miss You More Than Life

F!Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, Donnie is not good at balancing life and work, no comfort (sorry), insecurity

A/N: Soups up. You know I love angst... I have so many angsty (or at least I can make them angsty) requests at the moment. 2 f!Donnie fics in a row? It's more likely than you think...

Donnie was busy, of course he was busy. He's the smartest out of all the yo'kai, mutants, humans on base. At the moment he was studying some new Kraang tech a team brought in for him. He had been excited when it was placed on his desk, immediately working on it instead of continuing his conversation with you.

⋆｡ ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ ﾟ｡⋆

You quietly step into Donnie's lab, not wanting to distract him. He had told Leo he was close on figuring something out. You gently set a few papers, just reports and inventory, on his desk as well as some water and food for him. Always supportive, you press a kiss to his temple, letting your lips linger for a moment. "Are you coming to bed tonight?"

Donnie glances up from his work, he couldn't help but feel a small sense of irritation creeping up within him from your interruption. "The weight of the world rests on my shoulders, I have to keep working to find a way to stop the Kraang." He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he continued. "I have important tests to run and calculations to make." With a dismissive wave of his hand, Donnie returned his attention to his work, clearly indicating he had no intention of joining you in bed.

Your heart breaks a little at his dismissal. "You could've just said no." You mumble, though you're not sure if he heard due to his focus. You wanted to kiss him again, but based on how he spoke, you decided not to. "Goodnight, Donnie. Please at least make sure to eat." You say softly, hiding your frustration and sadness before heading off to bed.

Donnie's eyes flicked up from his work, barely catching the sadness in your voice. For a brief moment, he felt a pang of guilt. But he quickly dismissed it, burying himself deeper in his work. He didn't have time for distractions. As you left the room, Donnie didn't even turn to watch you go. But deep down, a part of him wished to prioritize you and your needs. Unfortunately, that part was overshadowed by his drive for scientific discovery and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

⋆｡ ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ ﾟ｡⋆

In the morning, you get ready for your normal duties around the base. You step back into the lab to leave, seeing Donnie engrossed in his work, his attention fixed on the task at hand. He doesn't even spare a glace your way, your heart sinking as you gather up the empty plates and completed reports.

You watch him for a moment, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside you. With a heavy sigh, you decide to respect his space and silently leave the lab. You hope one day he will notice your efforts and appreciate the support you provide, but for now, you continue your duties.

The rest of the day, you handed off tasks that required going to Donnie's lab. As much as you yearned to see him, you couldn't stand it. But soon night fell and the only place to go was back to bed.

Donnie barely registered your presence as you entered the lab. His eyes remaining focused on the screen in front of him, his mind consumed by calculations and theories. When you pressed a short kiss to his temple, he barely reacted, his focus unwavering.

Donnie finally looked up from his work when you left without a word, a hint of confusion flashing across his face. He watched you go, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Part of him wanted to call out to you, to apologize for his single-mindedness and selfishness. But the stubborn side of him refused to admit his own faults.

With a sigh, Donnie returned his gaze to his work. Deep down, he knew he had taken you for granted. But for now he continued to toil away, convinced that his pursuit to defeat the Kraang was more important than anything else.

⋆｡ ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ ﾟ｡⋆

It continued like this for weeks, almost months. Your heart aching, sleep lacking. Donnie seemed to only got to bed if you weren't there.

Did he hate me? Did he realize that he no longer wants me around?

One day though, you had to be on night watch so you decided to sleep in the middle of the day.

As you entered the lab, the emptiness weighted heavily on you. The absence of Donnie's presence intensified the ache in your heart. With each step you felt unsure of where you stood in his life anymore.

When you reached your bedroom and saw Donnie peacefully sleeping, a part of you yearned to crawl into bed beside him, to seek solace in his embrace. But the fear of upsetting him held you back. He hadn't wanted to be in bed with you in weeks, why would he now?

Instead, you grabbed your pillow and silently retreated to the couch in his lab, resigning yourself to sleep in solitude. You lay on the couch, surrounded by the paraphernalia of Donnie's scientific pursuits, a wave of sadness crashes over you. You couldn't help but wonder if he still wanted you around, if he still cared about your presence. The doubts and insecurities ate away at you, leaving you feeling empty and alone.

Despite the pain, you had remained quietly supportive, hoping that one day Donnie would realize the impact his distance was having on you. In the darkness of the lab, you clung to the hope that he would wake up and see how much you longed for his love and attention.

[heliads]

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[baby-alien11]

imagine being pregnant with Chad's baby

scream vi au, the group knows that Quinn and Ethan are siblings

During the five months that you and Chad had been dating, both of you were always careful to use protection when having sex because of the fact that you were beggining college

But after the Halloween party at a fraternity, and due to being too drunk to remember any precautions, the inevitable happened

Of course the next morning, both of you woke up naked in the spare room of Sam, Tara and Quinn's appartment

For the next weeks things were normal

Until the symptomes started

It began with things like morning sickness, headaches, dizziness

At first you tought it was because of the stress and let it slip

That was until Sam (the unoficial mom of the group) noticed it and decided to do something

"Y/N, take your coat and purse, I'm taking you to the doctor", Sam said confusing you

"I already said that I'm stressed for college", you responded, "I'm okay, I promise"

"I know", Sam nodded, "I just want to make sure you aren't sick"

Knowing she wouldn't let you alone until you went with her, you sighed in anoyance before standing and taking your things to go with her

Arriving at the doctor, she asked all the symptomes you had at the moment before running some test on you

You were pregnant

Hearing that words were a big shock to you because of all you think, pregnant was the one that never crossed your mind

While the doctor keep talking about precautions and stuff like that, you were dissociating not paying attention

After leaving the doctor's office, you started to cry because of the sudden news, which made Sam hug you tightly

Deciding not to attend classes for the rest of the day, you stayed in the appartment laying on the couch eating what Sam gave you

After finishing classes, Chad was the first one to cross the door seeing you sitting on the couch watching cartoons and eating ice cream

"Baby, how are you? What did they tell you?", was the first thing Chad said the moment he saw you

"I think we need to talk in private", you responded

A little confused, Chad followed you to the spare room closing the door before sitting on the bed

"So, at the doctor appointment I told her all the symptoms that I had, and then she made me do some tests", you explained giving him the envelope, "This was the result"

A little confused, Chad openned the envelope reading the information in the paper, noticing he read the result the moment his eyes locked with yours again

"Is this real?", Chad asked in shock

"Yeah", you nodded playing with a pillow, "The doctor made me blood tests"

"So, what do you want to do?", Chad questioned taking your hand, "I'm supporting any decision you want to take"

"I don't know, this news was so unexpected"

"Hey, you don't have to take a decision yet, we can still have time to take one"

Nodding, Chad pulled you in a hug in which you rest your head on his chest

During the next week, the thought of making a decision invaded your mind because of all the pros and cons that both options involved

The thing that definite your decision happenned while you were getting a chai latte in a cafeteria, when you spotted a young couple with a baby looking so happy, that made you to start to imagine you, Chad and the baby

Inmediatly after recieving your drink, you were quick to walk into the campus library were you knew he would be studying

The moment you notice the table he was, you walked towards him, standing by the chair he was sitting

"I want us to keep the baby", you stated getting his attention, "I just saw a couple with a baby and something woke up in me that told me that we should have the baby"

"Sweatheart", Chad smiled softly before standing up to hug you, "You know that I'll be supporting any decision that you take, and this may be hard because we're still in our first year of college, but we are going to be the best parents for that child"

"We're having a baby", you teared up a little

"We're having a baby", Chad nodded kissing you

That same day, in the afternoon, you and Chad were the first ones to arrive to the apartment, were bot of you left a box with some baby articles inside with a note that read "open when everyone is here"

In the time while the group arrived, you and Chad decided to start making lunch for everyone

The first ones to arrive, twenty minutes after you, were Tara, Mindy and Anika getting confused by the box in the center table

"Guys", Tara spoke getting your attention, "What is this?"

"We don't know", you shrudded your shoulders

"It was here when we arrived", Chad continued

"Great", Mindy exclaimed, "We survived ghostface but know we are stuck in a Hellraiser situation"

Laughing in silence, you and Chad continued preparing lunch while the three girls stood in there looking at the box without openning it, soon after Quinn and Ethan also arrived to the apartment standing with the others looking with curiosity at the box, when Sam, who was the last one to arrive, entered the space, everyone turned to look at her

"Can you open the box for us?", Quinn asked

"What box?", Sam frowned aproaching the group, noticing it, "Who brought this?"

"Y/N and Chad said it was here when they arrived", Anika answered

Taking a glance at both of you with little suspission, Sam took the top of the box to open it, revealing some baby stuff like a feeding bottle, baby socks, a little blanket and a yellow teddy bear

"What the hell?", Ethan murmured with confussion

"There's something written in the reverse of the top", Tara pointed taking it to read the words in it, "Congratulation, you are going to be uncles and aunts"

From the kitchen, you and Chad looked at the whole group with funny smiles and wondering when they get the hint, being Mindy the first one to get it rising her head to look at the two people in the kitchen

"No fucking way!", Mindy exclaimed gainning that the group focus the attention on both of you, "Are you serious?"

Nodding with little smiles confirming the news, the whole group scream in excitement running towards both of you to congratulate you

Since the news were released to the group, things were a little different, starting with the fact that every drink that had alcohol was thrown away due to a pact that the group made about not drinking for the next nine months in solidarity with you, and Sam also decided to stop smoking in order to not put you or the baby in danger with the smoke

That made you almost cry due to how involved they were

Another thing that changed was the fact that you and Chad started living in the spare room of the apartment for comfort and it was more easy for the two of you

Specially because of the morning sickness hitting you hard

Your college live also change because you always were accompanied by Chad, and if he wasn't around someone would be

And also they would carry your favorite snacks

Entering the second thrimester and when your belly started to show, both of you decided to tell your parents about the baby

First were yours because of the proximity due to them living in Washington Heights

At first they were shocked for the sudden and unexpected news, especially because you and Chad weren't even a year together, but after a few hours they started to accept the fact that their little girl was about to have a baby

The next weekend, you, Chad and Mindy flew to Woodsboro to tell the news to Martha, fortunately you knew her personally because of the time when she was in New York to pay a visit to the core four

Certainly she was happy with the surprise visit of the three of you

But when you and Chad told her the news, Martha stayed in state of shock for about five minutes scaring the three of you for a moment, even Mindy had to assure that she was still breathing

But after the shock, she started to cry of happiness because she was going to be a grandma

Taking advantage of being in town, Chad and Mindy decided to go to the cementary to visit the old members of the group who were victims of the attacks, which you decided to go with them

While Mindy went in her part to leave flowers to Wes, sheriff Judy and Dewey, you and Chad went to Liv's grave

"Pink flowers because of her hair?", you asked softly with your hand on Chads shoulder while he was crouched accommodating them

"Yeah", Chad nodded, "Bright pink, one of her favourite colors"

"I would've loved to meet her", you said, "She seemed like a nice girl"

"She was", Chad nodded standing up, "I think both of you would've been great friends, I'm going with Mindy to say hi to Wes"

"Okay, I'll go with you in a second", you responded at wath Chad walk away, so you took the opportunity to crouch down being careful, "Hey Liv, I'm Y/N, Chad's girlfriend, I promise to take care of him, he might be a big and strong boy but he's still a himbo, and I hope everything is good up there"

When the three of you came back from the cementary after an hour, the sight of Martha with boxes full of the twins baby and toddler things were around the living room

"I got emotional and I decided to go to the basement for this", Martha explained, "It doesn't matter if it's a girl or a boy"

Feeling tears in your eyes, you were quick to almost run towards her direction to hug her

After that weekend, your luggages were filled with baby and toddler stuff of both genders

With the baby growing inside you, the cravings also grow

So now, a whole cabinet of the kitchen and two drawers of the refrigerator were filled with your favourite snacks

But if doesn't matter if it's the middle of the night, Chad would go looking for the most especific and strange snack you want at that moment

Another thing was that you refused to use the typical mathernity clothes, so when you where at the apartment you use Chads shirts and sweatshirts with shorts or sweatpants

On public, you liked to wear some juvenile mathernity clothes that were comfortable for you and your growing belly

When the time to know the gender of the baby came, you and Chad asked the doctor to keep the gender as a secret for the reveal party

On that same weekend, the friend group with both of your parents, and also Sam's new boyfriend, Danny, who was one of the neighbors of the building, were there for the reveal party

And also, you and Chad stated the color white as a dress code

"So, here's how this is going to work", Mindy spoke since she was the one who gave the idea of how to do it, "Inside this black pillow, there are feathers, pink for girl and blue for boy, to reveal the gender of my future nephew or niece, all you have to do is stab the pillow"

"You seriously did this when almost all of us were stabbed last year?", Chad asked in disbelief, "Also uncle Randy died this way"

"I asked if I could be in charge of this and both of you said yes", Mindy replied holding two knives, "Now, it's time to know if we are getting a Laurie Strode or an Ash Williams"

With resignation and fun, you and Chad took carefully the knives from her hands to aproach the pillow

Sharing an excited and nervous look, you and Chad stabbed the pillow and cut it down, revealing pink feathers getting an instant reaction of screams of celebration while you and Chad hug each other with a few tears in your eyes

When both of you separate from the hug, everyone started to congratulate both of you

"I'm going to put my babygirl in Pokémon onesies!", Chad exclaimed in happiness

Since knowing the baby would be a girl, everyone was so excited that they started to buy small things that soon turned into some bigger stuff

The most surprising was coming home after school and seeing your parents in the living room with a crib still in the box

It took your dad, Chad, Ethan, Danny and Sam three and a half hours to build it

Entering the third and last thrimester, things started to be more tense and stressful because of the proximity of the birth

That was the principal reason for everyone in the group to start living in the apartment

"Okay, Tara is going to sleep in my room so Mindy and Anika can sleep in Tara's room", Sam instructed during the little moving

"Quinn, can I sleep in your room?", Ethan asked

"No, why?", Quinn frowned

"Because I'm your brother", Ethan replied with indignation

"Enough reason to not let you sleep in there", Quinn pointed, "Just sleep in the couch"

"I love the different sibling dynamics in the group", Anika commented

Thanks to everyone living in the same apartment, the place started to feel small for the amount of people living in there

But everyone make their effort to make things comfortable, especially for you and the future baby

Also, almost every day there was a package at the door, almost all of them were stuff for the baby or for you

And to say that your favorite accesorie was the pillow for pregnant women was your life savior was nothing

For a part, Chad was happy that you were comfortable while sleeping, but on the other he wasn't due to the fact the he slept in a little corner of the bed for the lack of space

"Roomie", Chad called Ethan who was sleeping on the couch managing to woke him, "Can you give me a little space to sleep?"

"Dude, you have your own room", Ethan discussed half asleep

"Yes, I know, but Y/N's pillow is taking the entire bed", Chad replied, "So please, can you make a little space for me?"

Resignated, Ethan moved a little so Chad could sleep on the other side of the sofa-bed

Movie nights every friday and saturday stayed the same, with the difference that when it was Mindy's turn to choose the movie, she picked some horror movie that involves pregnant women or childs (Rosemary's Baby, The Omen or something in that style)

And you somehow always ended up crying thanks to the hormones

When the last month of pregnancy entered, the bag for the hospital was prepared and placed in the entrance and multiple drills of birth were held in order to be ready when the time came

And because of being the last month everyone was on the verge of nerves, especially because the doctor didn't gave an especific date for the birth

But honestly, you were relaxed, especially because since the eight month you started to do yoga with Tara, Quinn and Anika as a form of relaxation

Something that the others needed to do

As the weeks passed, the expectation started to grow

Until one night during the half of the month when you woke up in the middle of the night with some pain in your belly

"Chad", you called your boyfriend shaking his arm, "Chad, wake up"

"What's wrong?", Chad woke up with urgency, "Are you okay?"

"I think the baby is coming", you responded feeling the pain, "I feel the contractions"

"The baby is coming!", Chad exclaimed getting up from the bed to run to the closet and grab your crocs with your jacket, "Here, put this"

When you were getting up from bed, you felt a liquid falling realising you'd just break waters

All that comotion was enough to wake up the entire apartment because when both of you got out of your room, everyone was awake wondering what was happening until they saw both of your faces

"Everyone, I'm taking them to the hospital", Sam said taking charge of the situation, "We will update you of everything"

"If someone can clean our room I will love you forever, because I broke water there", you added breathing deep

Thankfully the ride the hospital was quick due to the fact that it was the middle of the night, even for the streets of New York

Arriving there, they were quick to put you in a maternity room while Sam and Chad filled your formulary

Due to the fact that this was your first child, the process lasted almost 24 hours for the dilatation and due to being a natural birth

When the time arrived, you where accompannied by Chad, the doctor that was with you since the first appointment and a bunch of nurses

Finally, after a whole day of waiting your babygirl arrived

The instant Chad and you heard the soft cries, tears started to fall from your eyes

"You did awesome, moma", Chad complimented kissing your sweaty forehead, "You are amazing"

Still crying of happiness, you were quick to hug Chad for his words

"This girl is anxious to meet her parents", the doctor interrupted

As soon as you felt your babygirl skin against your naked chest, the tears grow noticing her skin that was a mix of yours and Chads, but her hair had the texture of his

"You look good with our baby, moma"

"You look good as well, daddy"

"So, what are you going to name her?". the doctor asked with sweetness for the scene in front of her eyes

Sharing a glance, you and Chad nodded confirming that the name both of you discussed a few weeks ago was the one

"Sabrina", Chad said putting his hand on the baby's head

[leighsartworks216]

The Burlesque Boutique

Astarion x gn/fem!Tav/Reader

Based on this art by @marbledgummi

I could not resist

There are two versions of this fic. Read the male/AMAB version here

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: explicit smut, crying, orgasm denial, swearing, one reference to past trauma, pegging

Word Count: 2,619

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Dove?”

Astarion poked his head into the study. You were hunched over the desk on your side of the room, hands working away at something. The other half of the room (his half) was cluttered with sewing and jewelry supplies, half-made dresses and suits, and a stack of pillows for when he wanted to take a nap without straying too far from you. He never really imagined settling down, owning a house, but now he couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

“Did you order something from,” he glances at the box in his hand, “the ‘Burlesque Boutique’, by any chance?”

“No,” you answered. You look up from your project with a quirked brow. “Why?”

His mouth opens, about to explain. But then a wicked little idea curled around his brainstem, crooking a finger at him and tempting him toward mischief. Instead, he smiled in that way that showed he was planning something. You raise your brows higher at him. “No reason, darling.”

“Mhm.” You turn back to your work. “Don’t catch anything on fire.”

He scoffs, shouting back as he pads down the rest of the hall to the bedroom. “It was one time!” He heard you chuckle in response.

The box wasn’t big - a foot or so wide and rectangular. It also wasn’t much to look at, despite the shop’s name in script on the top suggesting something racy or scandalous. He flipped it over a few times, but there was no name. The mail carrier must have delivered it to the wrong house, or it was a lame prank from some teens.

He sighed. He really hoped it was something more than that.

He cut the silky red ribbon holding it shut with a knife he kept in his bedside table. He almost considered saving it. If the rest of this turned out to be a bust, at least he could tie your hands up with this. But the rope he had for such an act was much softer, and quite a bit stronger. So he dropped it carelessly to the side and lifted the lid.

He chuckled, delighted and utterly amused as he unfolded the tissue paper and revealed a set of pink and white lingerie. The top was a sheer negligee with thin straps and a little bow that would rest prettily between a pair of breasts. Long, white stockings were folded beneath it, with a matching garter belt to keep them up.

Oh, this was… He could just picture you wearing it, all dolled up just for him.

And then the thought turned back on him.

What if he got all dolled up for you? He wasn’t a stranger to wearing feminine clothing - you’d particularly enjoyed him in the Wavemother’s robe. Testing the thought, he lifted the negligee by the straps and held it up to his chest. It looked like it would fit…

He started to lower it back into the box when something else caught his eye. He placed it on the bed instead and moved the stocking out of the way and- Oh. Oh gods. A pretty pair of panties hidden at the bottom of the box, the same pink as the negligee and with a little ribbon of its own.

Now, how could he resist?

-

You didn’t jump when arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind, so used to Astarion’s habit of sneaking up just for affection. He pressed like kisses to the side of your neck as he peered over your shoulder.

Your hands worked diligently on your project. Astarion pressed another kiss just below your ear, where he whispered, “Can you spare a moment, darling? I wish to show you something.”

You hum, taking in his words but too focused to answer. Once you find a good moment to stop, you set everything down and turn your head to look at him. “What is it, star?”

He grins deviously as he captures your lips, cupping your cheek and keeping you in place. He’d hate to spoil the surprise.

He doesn’t pull away as he sidles around your chair. You sigh quietly into his mouth when he parts your lips with his tongue. The sound alone makes his cock twitch, pressed tightly against the lace of the panties that keep it in place. He groans quietly.

Dexterous as ever, he sits himself on your lap easily, straddling your legs. You automatically reach up to support him, hands landing on his hips to keep him from sliding off, but then your eyes shoot open.

He’s smirking when you pull away with wide eyes as you lean back to take him in. You can’t get enough. Your eyes trail all down his body, looking at his chest and stomach through the sheer pink negligee. The garter belt hugs his waist, straps reach down his thighs to hold onto the tall stockings. The matching lace panties, bulging with his growing erection. A pretty silk ribbon is tied around his neck, just below his Adam’s apple.

You look up at him in awe, all flushed with dilating pupils. “Where did you get this?”

“Somebody left a package at the door,” he explains, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You immediately give in to the attention, tilting your head to the side as you grip his thigh and tangle your fingers in his hair. “No name, no address. I expected a prank, but the temptation was too good to miss.”

He nipped at your pulse and you groaned. “Speaking of temptation.” You tugged at his hair, pulling him away from your neck. A little harder than strictly necessary, but he just grinned as his head was tipped back with the pressure. The ribbon strained against his throat. “Gods, how should I have you?”

“In any way you please, my love.”

You smirk up at him. “In any way?” You tug at his hair again, drawing a grunt of pleasure from your lover. His Adam’s apple bobbed, fully exposed and prominent. You release his hair and slide your hand to his throat. He watches through lidded eyes. With deft fingers, you pull at one end of the ribbon, and it comes apart, falling from his neck. You tap his thigh. “Get up.”

He gives you an uncertain look, almost a frown, but he complies. You stand and push him back until his ass hits the edge of the desk. He blindly reaches behind him to push your stuff back carelessly. You’re too entranced with him and the lewd images racing through your mind to care.

You grab his hip and push lightly, telling him without words what you wanted him to do. He lifts himself onto the edge. You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Good boy.”

You step back to take him all in. Such a pretty little thing, all dressed up in someone else’s lingerie just for you.

You don’t take your eyes off his as you kneel down before him. The sight of you on your knees, face so close to his aching cock, sends a thrill down his spine. He grips onto the edge of the desk to retain some self-control.

You hold onto his legs as you begin trailing kisses along them. You kiss a line from his knee, up along the stocking, until you finally reach skin. There, you nip at the soft flesh. Closer and closer to where he needs you.

He groans above you. “You’re going to kill me at this rate,” he whines.

You grin against his skin, but don’t immediately act to provide him any relief. Instead, you kiss and bite your way to the edge of the panties. And, devil that you are, you kiss over the bulge. It twitches under your lips as Astarion hisses. You lick a stripe against it and he tenses with a strangled moan.

“Gods, please,” he begs, voice airy. “Too tight. Too tight.”

Mercifully, you pull the lace down, freeing him from his prison and tucking it under his balls. His dick was hard and sensitive. A small bead of precum already shined at the head.

“Desperate?” you tease.

He glares down at you. “Excited,” he corrects sharply. “To have your pretty little mouth around me.”

You hum, studying his dick. The longer you did nothing, the more it strained, eager to be touched, tasted, teased. You press a little kiss at the head, kitten-licking the precum away as his hips buck for more.

And then you stand. He whines.

“Bedroom. I want to take you properly.”

He wastes no time, leaping up from his seat and rushing to the bedroom. You follow after, leisurely. He sits at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the covers to stop from touching himself. You walk around to your bedside table. “Lay down.”

His eyes never stray from you as he crawls back to the center of the bed. He swallows excitedly as you pull out a small container of oil and your strap-on. You had it specially made - everything the strap feels, you can feel, as though it is an extension of your own body.

Truth be told, Astarion doesn’t bottom very often. It can bring back bad memories, of being used, but he enjoys this immensely, and he can’t wait to be fucked by you.

You kneel by him and lean down to kiss him. It’s hot and eager, Astarion nipping and sucking as he tries to distract himself. Your hand finds his inner thigh and his hips jerk to find friction. You don’t provide him any, of course.

You pull away to kiss his neck, massaging his thigh and hip as you mark him up. “Such a good boy,” you whisper into his skin. He whines, pressing his head back into the bed. He loves your praise.

His cock is weeping and red with need when you pull away. You stand and make your way to the foot of the bed. “Back or stomach?”

Gods, thinking about either makes him keen. He has to bite his lip to form a coherent thought. “Stomach.”

“Flip over.”

He does immediately. He gets on his hands and knees, back arching in anticipation. His cock dribbles onto the sheets, but neither of you can care in this moment.

He feels the bed shift as you climb back on behind him. He tries to look back, to see what you’re doing. It’s futile. All he knows is he needs to be touched so fucking bad. It consumes his entire mind.

You slide the panties down until it’s bridging between his thighs, unable to be fully removed with the garter belt holding up the stockings. You caress one of his ass cheeks, pulling it to the side to reveal his tight asshole. You bite the other cheek, quite hard, enough to leave a slight imprint of your teeth. He lowers down to his elbows so he can press his face in his arms.

“Good?” you ask, pressing a light kiss over the reddening mark.

He nods frantically. “Don’t stop,” he whimpers.

Your hand leaves him for a moment, but he can hear the sound of the oil bottle opening. You slick your fingers and spread his cheeks once more. He can’t help the keening moan that erupts from his mouth when you rub and prod at his entrance. He tries to rock back into your fingers, to fuck himself on them, but you hold him in place.

You take your time to gently stretch him, adding one finger at a time and never going deep enough. At one point, you push your fingers as deep as they can go and he sobs into his arms.

When you think he’s ready, you slick your strap with more oil, sitting up on your knees and grabbing onto his hips with both hands. He’s a mess, pressing into you against his will. He needs you inside him.

You coo sweetly to him. “Don’t worry, my love, I’ve got you. You’re so pretty like this.” You line up your strap with his asshole and slowly, so fucking slowly, push in. He groans and keens and makes all sorts of lovely noises. He grips at the bedsheets and squirms slightly as you fill him. “So fucking gorgeous. My good boy. So good.”

You still when your hips are flush with his ass. He whines and tries to press back again, but there’s nothing more to take. He is completely full of your cock.

You roll your hips and he gasps, babbling to beg you to move, to fuck him. You shush him as you slowly pull your strap almost all the way out, and press in again. There’s less resistance each time, until you can set a good pace without hurting him.

He moans and whines your name, gasping when you sharply thrust into him. The negligee slips down his body with the rocking motion until it pools around his chest and bunches at his shoulder blades.

“You look so good in pink, baby,” you tell him. You lean over his back and press loving kisses on his neck and shoulders. He turns his head to try looking at you, to try to say something playful. But he can’t open his eyes, and none of his words come out as words. “You’re being so good for me, pretty boy. I’ll take care of you.”

You sit back up and grab his hips tighter, pulling them toward you with each thrust. He cries out as you pound into him, speeding up as you feel your own orgasm approaching. Your movements become sloppy and lose the rhythm, but you only fuck him harder and faster to compensate. You can tell he’s close. He gasps breathlessly against the covers, hips rocking for friction against the air. He’s so fucking close.

You lift a leg to be effectively kneeling behind him. It changes the angle just enough that you rub against his prostate with each thrust. He moans loudly, the sound choking in his throat and coming out as a desperate whine. He doesn’t last.

A few more thrusts and his orgasm tears through him. He cums hard, body trembling and cock twitching as he finally finds the release he longed for, without hardly being touched.

His asshole clenches around you, squeezing your strap with each spurt of cum. You don’t stop fucking him until you orgasm, buried deep inside his ass. You’re both panting, whimpering messes as your legs tremble, as he stains the blankets and coats his stomach. The negligee is just barely out of reach, unstained by just a hair.

When you’re both spent, you sit there a moment, catching your breath. You slowly ease out of him. He whimpers softly, but sighs contently once the pressure is gone. His legs are unsteady, hands merely resting on the blankets instead of clutching for dear life.

You get up from the bed and go to the side to help him roll over and lay on his back without laying in his own spend. He clumsily finds your hand where you held his waist and holds it.

“Good?” you ask again. You push his matted curls from his forehead and kiss his brow. He nods against your lips. He still can’t quite find his words. You kiss his cheek. “Bath?”

He nods again, but holds tighter to your hand when you try to pull away. “Not yet,” he mumbles. He draws your hand up to his face, holding it to his cheek as he leans into it with a quiet sigh.

You press your head to his, kissing his temple and the length of his ear tenderly. “Take your time, my love. I’ll take care of you.”

---

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[works-of-fanfiction]

Ma Chérie || Charles Leclerc x Reader 

Summary: Charles and the reader have a long history together, and they’ve taken their time realising they’re more than just friends. 

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, short description of assault, swearing. Some badly translated French. 

a/n: this is a long one as it’s split into a few different time periods! I love reading oneshots like this that take you on a bit of a journey through the years. I really hope you like it!

“This is Y/N. She’s just moved here from England.” 

Charles remembered the very first time he set eyes on her. She slowly walked into the room, checking back at the number on the door several times to make sure she had the right class. He could tell her clothes were new and her hair freshly cut, as the front pieces kept falling in front of her eyes no matter how much she pushed them back. He followed her eyes as they scanned the room, taking in every student’s face, every piece of paper stuck to the wall, every potted plant dotted around. He couldn’t help but think how well her name suited her - Y/N. It was perfect, it just made sense somehow. 

He and his fellow classmates were encouraged to give her a warm welcome, but the majority of them were too busy gossiping amongst themselves about an English girl joining the school. Did she speak any French? How was she going to survive in Monaco? 

“Charles.” The teacher called over, gesturing for him to stand. He brushed off his shirt, standing tall and waiting for instruction. “Please can you be Y/N’s tour guide for the day? I’m sure you’ll help her feel welcome and introduce her to the school.” He nodded, smiling over at the new addition to the class. She weaved through the desks to reach the spare one behind him, setting her backpack on the ground. 

“Bonjour.” Charles turned around and smiled, stretching his hand out for her to shake. “Charles.” 

“Y/N.” Her touch was light, her fingers a little cold. She shook his hand nervously, barely able to hold eye contact with him. When Charles turned back to face the front, his palm was tingling and heart pounding inside his chest. How could he concentrate knowing the prettiest girl he’d ever seen was sitting just behind him? 

“So, you’re from England?” Charles asked, clutching his books to his chest as he walked Y/N down the hall. He glanced down, matching his footsteps to hers. He was well aware they were walking pretty slowly, but he didn’t mind being a few minutes late to his next class if it meant he could spend them with her. 

“Born and raised.” 

“What brings you to Monaco?” 

“Well, my Mum recently remarried. I didn’t think we’d actually move here, but here we are.” She threw her hands up in defeat, and Charles sensed she wasn’t impressed with her new home. 

“You don’t sound too happy about that.” 

“I just hate being the new kid.” She shrugged. The two of them stopped outside of her classroom as the crowd tried to squeeze through the door in time before the bell. “Thank you for walking with me.” 

“My pleasure. Maybe, see you later?” 

“See you later.” She gave him a small smile and turned to walk into her class. Charles looked at his watch, picking up his speed down the hall, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor. He spent the next couple of classes constantly checking the clock, hoping he’d see Y/N at lunch. 

And Charles did see Y/N at lunch. In fact, he spent every lunchtime with her until the two of them graduated. He felt lucky to witness the shy new girl blossom into his fun, carefree best friend with the feisty side, and quick wit. She’d done a good job to keep him in line during their last year, making sure he kept his head down and passed his exams, despite how much he just wanted to be karting constantly. Once he received his grades, he realised just how grateful he was for his bossy friend and all the times she’d read out test questions to him whilst he sat in his kart between practices and races. He was sixteen with the dream of being a racing driver, but she never let him forget how important finishing school was. 

The following two years flew by, the two of them both focused on their career goals. During the Summer after they both turned eighteen, they saw each other for the first time in weeks at an old school friend’s party. “Did you get taller?” Charles teased as Y/N stepped out of the car, high heels sinking into the gap between the paving stones.

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder and moving hair out of her eyes. “Perhaps you’ve shrunk, Perceval.” She leaned in close and kissed the air in front of his face, taunting him. Charles scowled at the nickname and shook his head, earning a laugh from his best friend. “Oh don’t look at me like that! You love me really.” 

She had a habit of using that line on him, and Charles almost fell for it a few times. He was convinced she knew more than she let on, and was saying it to tease him or encourage him to blurt his feelings out loud. He wasn’t sure if ‘love’ was what he felt for her at that age, but he knew she’d been the person he cared about the most ever since she stepped foot in his school nearly four years ago. Some of his friends made fun of him, saying he got stuck with the new girl, but he didn’t see it that way. He wasn’t stuck with her at all. He chose to sit with her at the lunch table, he chose to bring her to the track and show her where he spent all his time, he chose to teach her French every Thursday in his backyard. He didn’t regret a second of it. 

“Come on handsome, let’s get inside.” Y/N smiled, linking arms with him. Her array of nicknames for him never failed to make him smile like an idiot, regardless of how stupid they were. She’d once called him ‘macaroni cheese’ and he didn’t understand it, but he accepted it anyway. He’d learnt over the years that you couldn’t argue with someone like Y/N, as she would always win. Not because she was particularly argumentative, but because Charles would always give in to her. Anyone would think she’d lit some candles, adorned her best black dress and cast a spell on him. 

Charles and Y/N weren’t exactly the pair to be seen drunk at a party, but this one was an exception. They danced around to the music, or at least tried, but it was more like maniacal jumping to their own made-up rhythm. Whenever Y/N’s cup was empty, Charles made sure to be the one to refill it. He knew exactly how she liked her drinks since the first time he secretly made her one using some alcohol he sneaked out of the fridge. They were sixteen and clueless, and it took a lot of trial and error to make something that actually tasted nice. 

“Tu es magnifique ce soir.” You look beautiful tonight. Charles said, raising his voice over the music. Y/N laughed, the compliment making her cheeks feel hot. She was no stranger to Charles’ charm and way with words, but it still made her feel special when he said such things. Being called beautiful by someone like Charles is not something that happens to a person everyday. 

“Merci, mon chéri.” Thank you, my dear. Y/N cooed, pulling her best friend into a hug. The two of them stood there for a moment, letting the music hum and vibrate around them. The floor felt like it was buzzing beneath them, and the air in the room was practically non-existent. “I’m going to get some fresh air.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, no! You stay here and have fun. I’ll be back soon.” Y/N disappeared into the crowd, leaving Charles to guard their drinks and make small talk with old faces he recognised from school. What started as a couple minutes of fresh air turned into almost an hour, and Charles couldn’t mingle any longer. He set off through the house, calling out her name in every room. A quick glance out of the window confirmed she wasn’t outside anymore, so he followed his footsteps back to their original spot, but she wasn’t there. 

He bumped into one of her past friends from history class in the hallway. “Have you seen Y/N? She went out for some fresh air but she hasn’t come back yet.” 

“I think I saw her go upstairs. That was about fifteen minutes ago.” 

“Thank you.” Charles rounded the corner and bolted up the stairs, using the handrail to pull himself up. People were scattered around, whispering in pairs or making out in the corners. It almost made Charles laugh at how stereotypical the scene was. It looked exactly like the kind of thing you’d see in an American teen movie. 

“Y/N, are you up here?” He called out. He knocked on a couple of doors and took the lack of response as an answer. He wasn’t planning on barging in and catching some former classmates under the covers together. There was one more door cracked open to the right, so he stood outside of it and pressed his ear against the wood. 

He heard voices, and what sounded like somebody stumbling across the wooden floor. Someone hushed and demanded the other keep quiet, but what he heard next made Charles jolt into action. 

“Please don’t, please get off of me.” It was Y/N. He could pick out her voice in a line-up. She sounded scared, and the only response she was getting from whoever she was with was a string of ‘be quiet’s and other things he’d rather not remember. Charles threw the door open, the sight before him making his heart sink. He was right, but boy did he wish he wasn’t going to be. Y/N was pressed against the wall, one of her shoes missing and her dress pulled up on one side. A guy had his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her in. 

Charles jumped at the stranger, pushing him away from Y/N. He wasn’t one for violence, so didn’t stay for a fight. His attention went straight back to Y/N, and he grabbed her hand to lead her out of the room. She kicked off her remaining shoe and the two of them ran down the stairs, leaving through the front door and across the garden until they were in the street, far away from that awful room. 

“My girl… my girl, are you OK?” He asked, both hands gently placed on her shoulders, holding her up. Y/N couldn’t even look Charles in the eye. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, staring at her bare feet as little stones on the road dug into her soles. “Y/N, please talk to me.” 

“I’m sorry, Charles. I’m so sorry, I don’t know - “ 

“Why are you saying sorry? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I went up there with him, Charles. I was basically asking for it.” Y/N burst into tears, dropping to sit down on the ground. Charles tugged his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders, sitting down beside her. “I’m so stupid.” 

“You are not stupid. That guy was a total creep and an asshole. It’s not your fault.” He leaned into her, settling his shoulder right beside hers so she could comfortably rest her head if she wanted to. Instead, she fell into his lap and cried into his chest, clinging onto his shirt and rubbing her nose against his collarbone. “It’s OK, I’m here. It’s OK.” He stroked her back gently, pulling her as close as he could to make her feel safe. The two of them stayed there for what felt like hours, until Charles was able to encourage her to stand so he could get her home. 

“Please can I stay with you tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.” She asked timidly, wiping her eyes.

“Of course. Come on.” 

Luckily no one else was awake when they got back, so he didn’t have to explain what had happened. Y/N was silent as she watched Charles dart from room to room to gather everything he needed to make sure she was comfortable. She’d stayed over many times before, but this time was different. She needed him now more than ever. 

Charles gave her a spare pair of pyjama pants and one of his t-shirts. Whilst she was getting changed in the bathroom, he pushed the contents of his nightstand into a drawer so he could make space for Y/N. He laid out a glass of water with some facial wipes he found. Surely his mother wouldn’t mind them borrowing some. 

He also put out a pair of thick, comfy socks should she choose to wear them, and a hairbrush. He turned the small table lamp on at the other side, giving the room a warm hue. Climbing into bed, he lifted the covers at Y/N’s side and fluffed up the pillow. 

Seeing Charles’ efforts in front of her made Y/N want to cry all over again. No matter what happened, Charles was always there to take care of her. She thanked her lucky stars that he was there tonight and got her out of that situation before it was too late. She was shaken up, a little drunk, and desperate to lie down. Her head felt heavy like a bowling ball, and her feet stung from wearing those god-awful heels all evening. She wasn’t too sad about leaving them behind. “Can I get you anything else?” Charles whispered, rolling over to face her in bed. She shook her head, giving him a small smile to show her appreciation for everything he’d done. 

“You’ve done enough. Thank you.” 

Charles carefully lifted his hand to her cheek, running the back of his fingers over her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch, shuffling closer to him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Charles.” 

He didn’t know what to say back. He wished there was some way he could show her that she’d never have to find out what life would be like without him. He had no intention of going anywhere. Was it too dramatic for an eighteen year-old to feel as such? Sometimes he wondered whether there were enough words to explain how much he cared for her. 

“Charles Leclerc, how does it feel to be a Formula One race winner?” Y/N beamed, pouring a glass of champagne and thrusting it into his hand. It was a stark difference from being sprayed and covered with it as he was just an hour before. 

“I can’t believe it. I can’t describe it!” He grinned, adrenaline still coursing through his body and his hands a little shaky. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this.”

“It’s the first of many! We have to celebrate properly. Let me take you out tonight.” 

“I can’t tonight, I promised I’d celebrate with the team.” 

“In that case, come over when we get back to Monaco! We can stay in and I can cook the chicken pasta you love so much.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Charles smiled, pecking her cheek. “I have to run. There’s so much to do and people to speak to.” 

“Of course. Go!” Y/N nudged her friend out of the door, watching him disappear out of view. Cheers erupted from the crowd outside as their winner faced them once more. Her heart swelled with pride and excitement for her best friend, and she was so happy he’d finally gotten the win he’d always wanted. 

Y/N dashed around her apartment, making sure everything was perfect and the finishing touches were in place. “Lorenzo! Is the cake in the fridge?” She called, quickly changing her shoes in the hallway. 

“On the top shelf like you asked.” 

The knock on the door came perfectly on time. She dashed through the apartment, telling everyone to get into their hiding spots. Lorenzo and Arthur squeezed into the coat closet near the door, waiting to throw confetti over their brother. “Salut! I brought your favourite pastry from the bakery on the corner.” Charles chimed, waving the paper bag in the air.

“Merci! Come in, come in.” Y/N took the bag and ushered Charles inside. His brothers listened out for their footsteps and Y/N’s cue as they held their breath in the closet. “Finally, we can celebrate properly!” She raised her voice, getting the attention of all the hidden guests. 

Lorenzo flung the door open and jumped out with Arthur, throwing handfuls of red confetti at Charles. “Surprise!” They shouted, voices joining them from the living room. Y/N guided Charles into the room where his fellow drivers, friends and family were waiting in front of a table covered with snacks, each plate personalised with little cocktail sticks with Charles’ face on. Y/N didn’t leave a single detail unaccounted for. 

“What! How long have you been planning this?” Charles turned to Y/N who could not stop grinning. “You’re so sneaky!” 

“Don’t worry! I still made that pasta I promised, just a slightly bigger portion.” She laughed, gesturing to the crowd stood behind her. Charles scooped her up into a hug, thanking her over and over again. 

He greeted his family, so Y/N took the opportunity to pop into the kitchen and put the pastries into the cabinet. “He seemed pretty surprised. And here you were worrying he’d figured you out.” She turned to find Louis behind her, leaning against the doorframe. It had taken some convincing to get her boyfriend to attend Charles’ party, as he felt he had no place considering he’d only met the driver once. Y/N thought there was more to it, but the last thing she wanted was to start an argument. She also didn’t really want to find out whether her suspicions were right or not. 

“This is the least I could do. He travels so much, he never gets to celebrate with his family properly!”

“Everyone needs a friend like you, ma chérie.” Louis smiled. Y/N struggled to smile back at the sound of that nickname, as she was so used to it coming out of Charles’ mouth. She hadn’t been with Louis long, but she had the feeling he was more certain of her than she was of him. His traditional romantic charms worked on her in the first month, but something had her distracted more recently. Between work, travelling for Charles’ races and helping her mother renovate her house, she hadn’t had much time to see Louis and let their relationship progress. She tried not to make herself feel guilty for it. After all, they’d only known each other for three months. 

“Y/N! I need a drink!” Charles burst into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Louis. “Oh… salut.” 

“Salut.” Louis nodded, looking Charles up and down. He was no stranger to him and his friendship with Y/N, but that didn’t stop him being jealous. “Congratulations on your win.” 

“Thank you.” Charles faked a smile, sensing the well wishes weren’t exactly genuine. Louis stepped aside so Charles could get a drink. He watched the driver hug his girlfriend and gritted his teeth, mentally trying to remind himself that he was the one dating Y/N. They’d known each other for years, if something was going to happen between them then it would’ve been a done deal a long time ago. 

The party got off to a great start. Everyone ate and drank and asked Charles a thousand questions about the race in Belgium. Lando made sure he took plenty of pictures, no matter how embarrassing some turned out to be. Daniel pulled out his best pout, posing and loving every minute of it. It made Y/N incredibly happy to see everybody in one room, celebrating Charles and putting the competition aside. He deserved to be surrounded by great people. 

Later in the night, Charles found himself on the balcony beside Louis. He’d only popped out for some air and found his friend’s date nursing a cigarette. Probably not his first of the night, Charles thought. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t get in your way.” Louis scoffed, dying his cigarette out on the railing and flicking the butt into the distance. 

“Classy. Just throw it anywhere you want.” 

“What’s it to you? Huh? Shouldn’t you be inside being the centre of attention?” 

“Have you got a problem? If you do then be a man about it and tell me instead of acting like a child.” Charles turned to face Louis, but chose not to step any closer to him. He’d rather stay where he couldn’t smell his smoker’s breath. 

“My problem is your obsession with my girlfriend.” Louis spat, crossing his arms and leaning against the railing. 

“She threw this party for me! I’m here because she invited me. It’s just a shame she invited you too. I’m not obsessed with her, she’s my best friend.” 

“Yeah, your best friend that you clearly want to fuck.” 

“And so what if I did? What are you going to do about it?” Charles laughed at Louis, finding the whole conversation pointless and embarrassing. He didn’t like hearing him speak about Y/N like that, but he knew Louis didn’t have a leg to stand on. Nothing more than sharing a bed and a few friendly kisses on the cheek had ever happened between him and Y/N. 

“Why don’t you do us both a favour and leave her alone?” 

“I’ve known her since I was fourteen, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Yeah yeah I know the story. You just felt sorry for the new girl and couldn’t let go. She doesn’t need you to babysit her anymore.” Louis walked towards Charles in an attempt to intimidate him. Charles leaned back, not giving him the opportunity to get in his face. “Stop being such an asshole and leave her alone.” 

“Get out.” They both turned to see Y/N stood at the door, the cake balanced in her hands. “Why are you still standing there, Louis? Get out!” 

“Y/N, come on! It’s him you should be telling to leave.” Louis protested, stepping towards her. She staggered back, putting the cake down on the counter.

“Charles isn’t going anywhere. This is his party to celebrate his success, his win, which is far more than you’ve ever done.” 

“I didn’t have you down as such a bitch.” 

“Get out of my apartment. And lose my number whilst you’re at it.” Charles came inside and closed the door to the balcony, joining Y/N. 

Louis barged past them both, and Charles followed him to make sure he left. Some of the guests heard the commotion and poked their heads out of the living room, watching Louis leave and slam the door behind him. Back in the kitchen, Y/N shakily cut the cake into slices as she tried to hide the anger rushing through her. She knew something wasn’t right with Louis and now it all made sense. He was just another jealous guy who couldn’t handle a girl having male friends. Deep down, she knew why it would never work with anyone. She compared everyone to Charles and they never came close. Nobody ever understood her or made her laugh like he did. Nobody ever cared or knew exactly what she needed like him. She only wished she could find the confidence to tell him so she could stop forcing herself to date these people she knew she didn’t really want. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” 

“Charles, do not apologise to me. It’s my own fault for having horrible taste in men.” She looked at the cake and sighed, seeing how uneven her slices were. Perhaps she shouldn’t have operated a knife whilst angry. 

Charles took over and helped her pack the slices into little bags for the guests to take home. He figured the night was coming to an end anyway, so he handed them out and gave everyone a hug goodbye. They each congratulated him again and he felt overwhelmed with love and support. Regardless of it being his night, he couldn’t help but think about Y/N. She deserved so much better than guys who couldn’t see past their childish delusions. 

The two of them sat down together with a slice of cake and two forks. Y/N rested her legs over Charles’, digging in from her side. “Do I just attract the weird ones?” She asked, mouth full and cake crumbs spraying out. Charles laughed, brushing crumbs off of his lap. She swallowed and covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry!” 

“I can’t believe you’re blaming yourself! You know how amazing you are. It’s their fault they’re too blind to see it.” Charles couldn’t stop the words from falling out of his mouth. Y/N dropped her fork, taking the plate and setting it down on the coffee table. 

“Do you mean that?” She asked, fidgeting with her hands. She moved her legs so they were no longer on top of him, and Charles was somewhat disappointed by it. 

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Charles turned to face her, kneeling on the sofa so he could scoot closer. “Y/N, you are the best person I know. I mean, look at everything you did for me tonight! Nobody else in the world would go to such lengths for me.” 

“It’s because you deserve it. Celebrating with expensive champagne around the world is one thing, but coming home and enjoying it with your family is so much more. That’s why I threw the party.” 

“Thank you.” He reached over to hold her hand, his thumb drawing shapes on her knuckles. “You mean so much to me, Y/N. Please don’t put yourself down because a dumb guy couldn’t see how special you are.” 

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, exchanging small touches as their fingers entwined in Y/N’s lap. They both looked up at the same time, meeting one another’s eyes. “Charles.” She whispered, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d been so close, and her heart was pounding. 

“I’ve said too much, haven’t I?” 

“No, no. Of course not.” 

Charles lifted her arm and kissed the back of her hand. He didn’t break eye contact, and Y/N almost forgot to blink. “Would you give me a chance?” He asked quietly, nervously awaiting her answer. He’d spent seven years growing to love her and couldn’t wait any longer. Perhaps it was selfish that he felt inspired to admit his feelings on the same night as her breakup, but he knew he needed to tell her before he flew out to Italy. 

“Charles, I… I had no idea.” 

“Because I’m a fool for not saying something sooner.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just saying this because you feel sorry for me?” 

Charles laughed, shaking his head whilst squeezing her hand lovingly. “What would I get out of lying to you, ma chérie?” There it was, the nickname that Y/N loved so much. The nickname that only sounded right when it came from Charles. “If you don’t feel the same, I’ll understand.” 

“Now you’re the one being ridiculous. I will give you a chance if you give me one.” 

“I’d like nothing more.” Charles pulled her into a hug, holding her close, his right hand settling in the back of her hair. His heart felt like it could explode. Not even winning his first race could compare to the happiness he felt having her there with him. Being able to hold her the way he’d always wanted. Being able to finally say how he felt out loud, and not hide behind the ‘best friend’ title anymore. 

“Shall we finish this cake?” Y/N asked, pulling away. Charles nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It was quick, but filled with love. The two of them had waited forever to share such a moment, and it meant more than either of them could ever put into words. Y/N couldn’t believe he’d shared the same feelings for so long, and she couldn’t wait to be by his side through everything as more than just his friend. 

[munsonsreputation]

Acts of Affection

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [5.8K]

warnings: a tiny bit of sad steve but reader reassures him! full of domestic tooth rotting fluff &lt;3

summary: sometimes it's the little things that matter the most and make your heart melt. you and steve are no different...these are six times that the small acts of affection made your love for each other grow.

_

“Stevie!” 

He watched you exit through the double doors of your college campus, instantly catching his gaze all the way from the parking lot where he stood leaning up against his car waiting for you. Flowers in hand and a little teddy bear for good measure. You squealed his name, racing down the few steps and into his arms that always felt like home. 

Today had been a stressful one, to say the least. It was finals season, and you had been working tirelessly for the past two weeks trying to cram as much studying as you could into your schedule. Unfortunately, that meant fewer dates and time to spend carelessly with your boyfriend, Steve. Nevertheless, he was an absolute trooper through all of it. Bringing you coffees and little snacks to get you through those boring studying hours and somehow convincing you to take naps in order to recharge. He was the absolute bestest. 

“How are you, pretty girl?” He asked through your hair, the smile he loved so much, pressed up against his neck until you pulled away and he got to see it for himself. 

“Better now…you know you didn’t have to do all this.” You pouted, plucking the plush out of his hand and aweing at it before Steve had shook his head, planting a small peck on your lips, thumbs resting on your cheekbones warmly, “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I know you’ve been so tired, but now you can finally relax for a little.” 

You fell into the warmth of his hand and the softness of his voice. He was always your comfort place during times of stress and anxiety like this one—somehow he had all your worries go away and you knew that being in his presence would be enough. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He kissed your temple, keeping his lips there as he the question fumbled upon your skin. 

“But I’m already home.” You whispered, sweetly, dotting kissing on the underside of his jaw and a few on his neck as you could feel the adams apple bop while he laughed happily. 

Steve found it in himself to draw you away, not before placing a single kiss on your lips once more, his thumb pressing on your cheeks as he smiled at you, “I’ve got your favorite waiting on the kitchen table.” 

“Chicken parm?” Your voice heightens, and he nods, withholding his laughter.

“Yup, my mom made it fresh this morning before work. She knows how much you love it.” 

You squeal, happily moving side to side in his arms, “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Steve finds your excitement for simple acts like this one to be rather adorable, but he knows that you deserve it. After working so hard and almost overworking yourself from some good grades, you deserved a good home cooked meal you loved. 

He opened up the passenger door for you, letting you in, “Wanna tell me about the exams on the way?”

“Oh, just wait until you hear about Professor Danielson’s stupid test rules!” You huffed heavily as you buckled your seatbelt and looked up at Steve, who smiled, pecking at your lips again.

 “Can’t wait to hear it, baby.” 

_

Class getting cancelled was a rare occurrence, so you were surprised when you waked up to your ethnic studies class to see a large piece of paper, poorly stuck to the door that read, “class has been cancelled for today, see you next week!” 

But who were you to complain? You now had a free schedule for the rest of the day, left to do whatever you wanted, but you had already finished up the last bits of homework you were aiming to get done and Steve was at work. So you opted to go home…Steve’s home, actually. His parents loved you, even trusting you with a spare key that you use a lot, coming in and leaving almost every day. 

While you should’ve settled on taking a relaxing nap that you deserved, you remember that Steve had been talking about how messy his closet had been getting over the last couple of weeks. It wasn’t easy, constantly needing to share a closet with not only you, but the rest of the younger boys who often raided it, looking for the new trendy pieces they could sport at school. So you took it upon yourself to organize it. 

Steve had a ton of polos—you weren’t complaining since he looked good in every single one, but Jesus did he have a lot. One in every color and every shade, and different brands and prints. He also owned quite a collection of different jackets, some he had bought at the mall after receiving a hefty paycheck, a few gifted to him from holidays and birthdays, some that he had picked up from garage sales and thrift stores that you and Steve would visit on weekend, but his favorite one was the light grey Members Only jacket you had gifted him for your one-year anniversary. 

Pants were definitely the most modest part of his wardrobe in terms of quantity. He opted to only buy a few ones that were of great quality, but were highly expensive. He only had a few pairs of Levi’s and the rest being old sweatpants and shorts he would only wear at home or when it was hot out. 

Then there were the shoes. God, if Steve loved something more than he loved you, it was shoes. He collected them like a hoarder. It was a rule that the younger kids could pick anything in his closet expect the shoes! He cared for those pieces like his baby. You practically had to force him to wear every single pair at least once before buying another or else they’d just sit in a pile in his closet forever until they fell apart naturally. 

“Finally!” You exhaled, dusting your hands off as you took a step back and examined your work. 

After about two hours, you were able to completely transform his closet. Organizing everything you had hung up by type and color so that Steve would have an easier time sorting through what he had. You even had the time to create a pile of clothes that you hadn’t seen Steve wear in a while, placing it in the corner of his room to go through himself before offering it up to the boys or donating it. 

“Baby! You in here? Your cars’ in the driveway!” The front door opened and Steve's voiced filled the expanse of his home as you shouted out a reply, 

“Hi Stevie!”

Your feet took you quickly down the stairs and into his arms, inhaling his cologne while you nuzzled your face into his neck, hugging him close. 

“Class got cancelled today.” You mumbled against his skin, pulling away when he rested his hands on your sides, squeezing slightly. 

He frowned, rubbing circles with his thumbs, “Why didn’t you call? I would’ve called out early for you.”

“S’ok, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” Your cheeks rose as you smiled, finally landing your lips against his in a kiss. 

His own, moving against yours gently, before pulling away, “I have a surprise for you upstairs.” 

“Is it a naughty surprise?” His eyes brows wiggled and his tone shifted higher as you groaned, pushing his chest annoyingly, “Ew! Just come on!” 

Your fingers took his wrist, pulling him up the stairs behind you as he laughed, speaking out a jumble of words like, “I’m just messing with ya baby,” “I hate surprises,” and “just tell me, please!” 

“Ta-da!” Your arms flared out towards his open closet when you two finally entered his room. 

He was astonished, “Babe, you did all this yourself?” walking up to it, his fingers skimmed each item as he passed by, looking at how organized everything was and how he could finally see the floor of his closet after all these weeks. 

You nodded your head happily, “Yeah! It was actually really therapeutic to go through everything and see it all come together.” 

He turned back to you when your bubbling voice filled the air. “I even made a pile of clothes you don’t wear anymore over there.” 

Looking at to where you were pointing, he saw a bunch of old tee-shirts and hoodies that didn’t find him anymore, and then glanced back at you, “Baby, you really didn’t have to—“ 

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, finger waving from side to side making him chuckle, getting closer enough to you to wrap his arms around your waist. 

“i wanted to! You’ve been complaining for weeks about it being a mess and I know you didn’t have the time to organize it all by yourself, so I took it upon myself to—mph!” 

He pulled you into a kiss, mid-sentence making you shriek, “Shhh, stop rambling, baby.” He said against you, making you groan, fingers going up to his shoulder to pinch him slightly, “Not cool.” 

“I love you.” He said, totally ignoring your fake annoyance,

“I love you too.”

_

The clanking of plastic hitting the diner table caught your attention, stopping you mid chew as you stared at Steve, who did nothing but smile, resting his chin on his fist as he watched you, “I made you a mixtape!”

“Are you serious?” the half mushed food in your mouth, muffling your words as he laughed, reaching over to close your mouth with his forefingers. 

“Finish chewing—“ you rolled your eyes lightly, setting down your fork, mouth mashing up the last bits of food while you picked up the cassette. 

from stevie to my baby…all these songs remind me of you, I love you. 

keep on loving you - reo speedwagon 

crazy for you - madonna

heaven - bryan adams

take my breath away - berlin

nothing’s gonna stop us now - starships

p.s. did I mention I love you? 

You did realize your eyes welling with a pool of happy tears as you read the tracks—all of them being significant theme songs for you and Steve’s love story. When any of them would come on the radio, the two of you would instantly think of each other, reminiscing about drunk karaoke nights, late night drives around town, and sleepy nights you would spend falling asleep in each others arms. 

“I could only fit five songs on this cassette but Eddie told me he could lend me a few empty ones so I could—“ He paused, seeing as you laughed lightly, eyes blinking and tears rolling down your cheeks and jaw, “baby are you crying?” 

His thumb reached out to swipe under your eyes, then cupped your cheeks, eyes filled with concern of his side as you reassured him with a sincere smile, “Happy tears, Stevie…this is so sweet.” 

“They’re just songs honey, you shouldn’t cry.” 

Heading shaking in his grasp, turning slightly to kiss his wrist then look back into his eyes, trapping him in a trance of love that he would never be able, and never wanted to escape, “You’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever had to privilege of knowing, let alone loving…the littlest things you do make me fall even more in love with you.” 

Sure, you and Steve would share sweet nothings with each other all the time…almost on a daily basis, but this confession made his heart beat ten times faster and heat up to the hottest temperature. He’s never felt so…appreciated? 

“I…wow, I’m sorry, I just—never knew I could make someone feel like that.” 

Watching him stutter over his words was a touching scene, knowing Steve was totally honest and speechless, “I meant every word, I love you and I’m going to cherish this for the rest of our lives.” you told him, pressing the tape to your heart and leaning forward to peck his lips. 

“I love you too, never gonna stop loving you—wait! I should’ve put that on there!” He groaned, hanging his head low as you giggled, shaking your head as you assured him. 

“When you make me another, you can put it on there!” You patted his cheek with your warm palm, “Let’s finish up and we can listen to this with the windows down.” 

He smiled warmly, pecking your lips, talking against them half-jokingly, “You’ll get cold after two minutes and ask me to roll them back up.” 

You nodded, pressing your lips to his again, “And you’ll roll them up and turn up the heat.” 

“Like I do all the time.” He agreed, finally pulling away to take in the expanse of your face and all your beautiful features he memorized. 

_

You tiptoed out of the backdoor with your bare feet on the deck. Steve’s sweater clinging onto your body against the cold air, but thankfully the two mugs of hot chocolate you had made were warming your palms up. 

“‘morning hot stuff.” You whispered cooly, leaning down to kiss his cheek before he had the chance to look up at you. 

You smiled when you pulled away, handing him over his mug that he graciously took, then pecking your lips, “You’re up early…are you not freezing?” 

He patted his thigh, signaling for you to sit on his lap, and so you did, snuggling yourself in embrace, feet bending to rest on the lounger that you two were now relaxing on. Your naked knees taking on the warmth of the mug that you set on them. 

“You warm me up just fine.” You said softly, taking a sip of the sweet drink, overlooking the beautiful water and misty air. 

It was your first time at Steve’s uncle’s lake house, and surprisingly enough, they had to trust the two of you to stay alone for the weekend. It was the perfect little getaway for the both of you, considering the fact that Steve needed to use his vacation days and you desperately needed to get your nose out of the textbooks for a while. 

The comfortable stubble that scratched against your cheek was a case of Steve forgetting to pack his razor and being too lazy to head to the store down the road to get one. But you weren’t complaining. You always loved every touch Steve laid on you, accidental or purposeful. The butterflies and swelling of your heart never was a feeling you would get used to. It happened all the time. 

When he reaches to hold your hand. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. Guiding you around a crowded room with his hand pressed gently into the small of your back. Throwing his leg over your body to prevent you from getting out of bed too early. And laying sweet kisses all over your body. 

It always had the same effect on you. 

“One day you’re going to catch hypothermia, babe.” He argued back with a chuckle, his free hand rubbing up and down your legs attempting to get the blood circulating. 

You just giggled softly, taking a sip from your mug, indulging in his touch before finally saying something, “We’re never apart, so that’s highly unlikely.” 

“You’re right…you know how much I love to keep you warm.” He kissed up the expanse of your neck up to your ear, making you fall into his touch deeper, his hand leaving your wrap over your shoulders, keeping you close. 

“I wish every morning could be like this.” You murmured, turning your head to stare up into his eyes that agreed silently before coming down to peck your lips. 

His were slightly chapped from the cold weather neither of you were accustomed to, but the chapstick on your lips seemed to do the trick, “One day I’ll get us a place of our own on a lake and we can spend every morning out there…” the sweet words fell onto your lips as he whispered them before pulling away. 

“We can watch the sunrise and the sunset, host summer parties with our friends out here…then when we have kids, we can spend time with them out here—our little family at our little lake house.” 

You smiled warmly, bringing one of your hands up to rest upon his cheek. The scarlet blush you were certain was from the icy weather, but was, in fact, due to his love for you. It was the mere fact that he was so infatuated with you in the simplest times like these…with no one around to judge or critique the love you had for one another. 

“You want to have kids with me?” You asked as if you didn’t already know the answer, having thought of that dream too.

He huffed jokingly with the rolling of his eyes as he nodded, hand making its way to rest on your stomach, “You’re the only one I can ever imagine having a family with…you’d be a great mom.” 

“Says the guy who has been a single dad of six since he was seventeen.” You retorted as you both shared a laugh before taking a sip of the hot chocolate to warm your bodies once more. 

You leaned down to set your cup on the deck, allowing both hands to be free so you could rest them on Steve’s that still laid over your belly, “I can’t wait to have your babies…I think we’d make pretty good looking humans if you asked me.” 

Steve grinned, nodding his head, “I think so too…what do you think about heading inside and us warming up in a different way?”

The wiggling of his eyebrows made you burst out in amusement, but not stopping the twists that were happening in your stomach. He just sat there, shaking his head with a smile on his face, trying to act as if it wasn’t the corniest thing he had said all week, “Ok, c’mon, it wasn’t supposed to be funny, babe!” 

“It was pretty funny!” You quipped, poking at his sides, making him flinch, almost spilling his drink. 

He “oh’d” with a laugh, leaning over to set him down on the deck beside yours, then finally lifting you up into his arms. 

“Stevieeeee!” you squealed, weakly attempting to wiggle out of his gasp as he walked you two up the deck. 

“I feel your temperature dropping, babe! We gotta get you warmed up, quick!” He joked dramatically, feet running heavily on the wood, as you could do nothing but laugh and hold on to him tightly with every step he took. 

_

You quietly unlocked the front door to the Harrington residence, toeing your sneakers off and leaving them at the front door as you made your way through his house. Today’s lecture required you to stay back a few hours longer, needing some extra tutoring in order to fully grasp the concept that way you wouldn’t fail the upcoming test that you so badly needed to pass in order to get an A for the school year. That sadly meant leaving Steve alone for a few hours, but you assumed he could manage, considering the fact that this wasn’t the first time you had to stay on campus a little longer. Usually he’d come home and take a nice nap after work while he waited for you or other times he would hang out with your friend group until he received a call that you would be heading home. 

But today was different. 

You stumbled into the kitchen and found a note stuck onto the fridge with one of the smiley faces magnets that littered the silver appliance. 

“hi baby, I left some soup for you to heat up on the stove. not having a great day, a lot on my mind, don’t want to worry you though. I’m upstairs napping. Make sure you eat first before you come to bed. I love you, sweetheart.” - your stevie

A frown covered your face as you turned to the stove and saw a small pot of soup and a bowl and spoon already laid out for you. But Steve should’ve known better that you wouldn’t be able to eat without checking up on him first. He would always be your number one priority. You left the food there, and walked up the stairs, heading straight to his bedroom where you softly knocked on the door, just to let your presence be known as you twisted the knob and let yourself in. 

There he laid under the comforters on his stomach, snoring quietly while the gently breeze of wind came in through his windows. You sat your bag down on the floor and made your way over to him, sitting on the small space that was left and rubbing a soothing hand over his clothed back. 

“Hi handsome…I missed you.” You said loud enough for him to wake, kissing the space beneath his ear. 

He mumbled out a few incoherent words, before finally shifting around to face you. His sleepy red eyes, evident that he may have been crying a few hours before or even rubbing them a little too hard. It worried you.

“Did you eat?” He asked, and you shook your head, reaching out to fix the messy hairs that danced on his sweaty forehead. 

Steve groaned, scolding you for not without using his words, “I couldn’t after what I read in your note. Is everything OK? You want to talk about it?” 

You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand and that included knowing that he had a soft side that not many people knew about. Sure, he expressed his protective and loving side for his close friends, but rarely did he ever expose his true inner feelings. He only did that with you. And you were honored to be his person that he could be his true self with, without worrying about being judged for feeling such deep and emotional things. 

“Life is just…. a lot.” He sighed, looking down sadly in his lap, feeling defeated and lost in what was the weird transition to adulthood and still holding on to being a young adult. 

You scooted closer, mirroring his body language, but wrapping your arm around his shoulder and the other on his wrist, getting him to feel some sort of comfort during this time. 

“I understand, babe… life can be a lot, but I hope you know that you’re not alone—I’m always going to be here.” You reassured him with your calming voice and slow circles that you rubbed on his wrist. 

You could feel his breath hitch and his back crouch lower falling almost away from your touch if you didn’t chase it, “Hey, hey…I’m here baby, talk to me…what’s going on? How can I help?” 

“I get scared that it’s all going to disappear.” 

The sentence was clear, yet his voice was shaky as some of the words slipped off his tongue with a breathy tone. 

“D-disappear?” 

“You.” he clarified, staring back up at you with tear-filled eyes, threatening to spill over any second now. 

You could feel your heart rip into a million tiny pieces just looking at the love of your life like this. It was something you had never witnessed before, at least not like this. How could you ever disappear from his life when you two practically needed each other to survive? He would be crazy to think that, but right now, you needed to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Steve.” You whispered, retracting your hands from their initial placement and bringing them up to cup his cheeks. Swiftly your thumbs moved to swipe the tears that finally fell when he blinks, those brown orbs coated with a cloud that you hated to see. 

“I…I’m never going to disappear, alright? I love you, so so so so much and I can’t even imagine living a life without you….what makes you think I’d ever want to leave the person I love so dearly?” 

“I dunno…” he sniffled, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them up again and staring into his favorite pair of eyes, face covered with concern, “sometimes I think that I’m not enough for you…that you’ll get tired of me, maybe find someone better than a stupid guy who works at a vhs store.” 

He shook his head shamefully in your hold, as you could do little but bite your lip and laugh lightly, causing his brows to furrow, “It’s not supposed to be funny—“ 

“Baby.” You whispered tugging his face closer to yours, just inches apart now, “I couldn't care less about the job that you have…hell you could work as a damn plumber and I would still feel the same about you because I love you.” 

He swallowed, not chancing this moment as he watched your lips move swiftly with more words leaving them. 

“I love the fact that you take the time to memorize all my weird little quirks. I love it when you leave little notes around the house and in my bag to read throughout the day because you know I miss you too much. I love when you wake me up in the morning and pepper me with kisses because it’s the only way to get me up. I love that you make me mixtapes and I never get tired of listening to them. I love that you have the biggest heart and the kindest soul. I love that you would do anything for the people that you love.” 

Steve could feel his sad little heart sparkling with happiness as he listened to your meaningful words. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington, because of what’s in your heart. I mean it every day when I say that I love you and nothing is ever going to stop me from doing so…especially not your job. Please know that I’m not going anywhere, not ever, ok?” 

He didn’t waste time with words, only pressing his lips to yours, letting them rest on each other in a soft touch before finally moving gently against one another. Everything and all his fears were lifted away with you here telling him that everything would be ok…that it was all in his head. 

“Thank you for always reassuring me.” 

You smiled against his lips and nodding, foreheads slightly bumping each others making you both laugh and pull away. 

His eyes were no longer clouded with sadness, but now glimmering with love. 

“Always, baby.”

_

So maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea for you and Steve to host a sleepover movie night at his place on a Sunday knowing he had work the next day and you class—but it was the only day everyone was free, so fuck it…right? 

You tucked your face deeper into Steve’s chest, inhaling his scent combined with the morning air that suffocated the living room as the warmth of the sun bled through the thin curtains and onto your exposed skin that wasn’t covered by blankets. It wasn’t odd for you and him to crash in the living room. Sometimes the two of you would be too tired to walk up his flight of stairs or you would both would fall asleep in each other’s arms during movie. But this is the first time you had been awoken by snores…some of which you weren’t familiar with, they didn’t sound like Steve’s snores…they belonged to your friends…the ones you let sleepover—

“Fuck! Steve wake up! We overslept!” 

You instantly shot up, arm blindly reaching out to shake Steve awake whose eyes snapped opened quickly, watching as you threw off the blankets in a pile on the floor. A few of your friends squirming from their places on the air mattress and opposite couch who woke up to your loud shrieks. 

“I thought you set the alarm,” He mumbled out, snapping out of his initial concern and rubbing his eyes with his fingers. 

You got up, racing towards the digital clock that sat on the coffee table, “Batteries were probably out…stupid thing!” you smacked it harshly as if that would do you both any good as he stifled his laugher and finally got up. 

“Go shower, I’ll handle get started on coffee.” He said patting your bum and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, watching as you nodded running up the stairs loudly, not caring if you woke your friends. 

You worked quickly, rushing around Steve’s bedroom as you brushed your teeth. Pulling out some clothes from your drawer of things there, gathering some school appropriate pieces that you know would match since you didn’t have much time. You had thrown them onto the bathroom counter, reaching into the shower to warm up the water before rising from your mouth and practically ripping off your clothes and hopping in for a quick rinse. 

Steve was working just as hurriedly downstairs. The kettle was on high and the two pieces of bread had been put into the toaster. He had gotten each of your mugs ready with a spoonful of coffee grounds and the sugar pot already waiting beside them for the end. The eggshells littered the bottom of the kitchen sink as he vigorously whisked and seasoned them before pouring them in the hot pan. He worked the spatula around the mixture, setting it down and rushing towards the fridge to grab the bread, peanut butter, and jam to get started on the lunches you two would be packing. 

“Babe your turn!” You were rushing down the stairs with his toothbrush in hand with a fresh line of toothpaste already on it. 

He turned, thanking you with a quick smile before shoving it in his mouth and rushing up the stairs.

It was easy for you to take over. The eggs were nearly finished and now plated. The kettle had been done boiling, so you poured the hot water into your cups, watching as the dark brown slowly take over, adding in two scoops of sugar into each cup. The toast popped up. You turned around grabbing them with quick fingers and drizzling a squiggle of honey on them for sweetness. 

The sandwiches had been already made and only needed to be cut and placed into ziplock bags. And so you did that, grabbing a clementine and bag of chips for each of you to have for lunch. 

“I have your backpack, sweetheart.” You turned your head and saw Steve heading down the stairs with your bag in his hands that he placed down at the floor of the front door. 

“Thanks handsome! Breakfast is ready!” 

You turned, setting your coffees down on the table, being greeted with a peck on the lips as you giggle, nudging him away jokingly, “eat or we’ll be late.” 

He rolled his eyes, checking his time on his watch, “We’ve got approximately six minutes and thirty-five seconds to leave the house before either or us are late…we’re fine.” 

Steve casually takes a bit of his toast and picks up bits of the scramble eggs with his fork before eating them. You do the same, but with a bit more of urgency remembering you had forgotten your scarf and a few pieces of jewelery you usually sported upstairs. 

“Be right back!” You mumbled with a full mouth of toast, as you scrambled out of your seat and back up the stairs. 

At this point, all of your friends had woken up due to the loud ruckus and unbeknownst to you and Steve, they were watching you two run around, absentmindedly helping one another with small tasks like a cooperative relationship. 

Steve had gulped down the last remnants of his coffee and begun placing the dishes in the sink to give them a quick wash. You came down the stairs, fingers securing the earring backs to the small jewels that Steve had gifted you for your birthday one year ago—his green vest loops over your arm as you crept up behind him and nudged him slightly. 

“Almost forgot this.” you smirked, holding it out for him to work his arms through. 

“You’re the best.” He mumbled sweetly, handing you your cup of coffee to finish as he brushed down the flyaway hairs at the top of your head with his palm. 

You swallowed the rest of the semi bitter caffeine, handing him over your cup then walking over to your lunches, quickly adding a smiley face and heart to his brown bag with the thick sharpie. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, wiping his hands clean as you turned around and nodded, handing him his lunch as you two walk out of the kitchen and went to the front door quickly slipping on some shoes and grabbing your respective car keys. 

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pecked his lips, “Remember you need to fill up your tank, you’re almost on E.” you reminded him as he nodded patting his pocket to make sure he had his wallet, which he did. 

“Call me during lunch if you have time? And I’ll see you here at 3?” He proposed, and you nodded, giving him a hug. 

You two were almost out the door when he remembered that your friends were still over. 

“Hey dinguses! Lock the door on the way out and make sure you fold the blankets!” He reminded with a shout before shutting the door. 

They all turned to each other with sleepy smiles, heading over to the nearest widow to watch the couple part ways.

“They’re like a married old couple.” Dustin commented, as you two shared another kiss before getting in your cars. 

“I think it’s kinda cute.” Max said, nudging El, who giggled and nodded. 

The boys rolled their eyes, except for Eddie, who walked away and stretched his arms out, “They love each other, it’s no surprise.” 

“More like infatuated.” Will jokes, smiling as he listens to the car horn beep. Steve lets you drive off first, then him following behind. 

“It’s the little things that make their love sweeter.” Lucas says, moving towards the coffee table and finding a polaroid of you and Steve, from a few nights ago, sitting around and watching sitcoms. 

“Small acts of affection are what they call it.” Robin says snatching the photo from the young boy to admire herself. 

“Guess we ought to take a note or two.” Mike shrugged as everyone agrees. 

It couldn’t be clearer that you and Steve were head over heels…not because of the grand gestures, but mostly because of the small and meaningful ones. The times where Steve would show up after a mentally grueling day without being asked to. The acts of service you would complete to help him get a load off his plate. The thoughtful gifts he would make for you without any special occasion. The one-on-one moments you spend together without bother, letting each other’s touch fill the gap. The appreciative words of affirmation and assurance that would fix a heavy heart after a long day. And the togetherness you both would feel, even on a hectic morning like today. 

It would always be the simple acts that would make your love for each other grow. 

A/N: I've been in the steve mood so I decided to write this sweet little quick thing up for you all! I am a whore for domestic fluff so yeah...let me know what you think!

[kairiscorner]

For the I/atsv drafts:

14!

well hello hello again @sabcandoit >:) CONSIDER IT DONE !!

so imagine,

the atsv babes: when you lose your glasses

miles would probably see you at school as always, walk up to you and greet you a good morning, only to have you looking around, confused and restless, as you're muttering to a locker. "hey," he'd begin in the not-so-rizzing-up way and smile at you with his big, sweet smile as he looks at your back that's turned to your fidgety figure. "oh, hi miles." you say as you look at a mop erected on a clean up bucket by the janitor's closet. miles chuckles as he turns you around gently and holds you by the shoulders. "hey, quit playin', i'm over he--oh." he said in two starkly different tones as he sees your confused expression, your eyes seeming a lot smaller without those glasses that framed your cute face. you squinted to get a better look at miles, and you finally realized it was him. "oh, a cute baby deer is in front of me, i walked into a mystical forest, not school." you joked, and miles chuckled. "lost your glasses again?" he asked, to which you sighed and nodded. miles chuckled yet again, he loved you a lot, but you had a tendency to be a little scatterbrained. "oh, what would you do without me, chiquita?" he teased you as you pouted. he opened his locker, where there were photos of you two decorating the back of his locker's door, and with some of your stuff with him; notebooks, folders, pencil cases and books, and of course, your spare glasses if you ever lost your main pair. he handed them to you with a slight eyebrow raise and pout to match your expression. "for you, mi amor." he gestured so gallantly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "you practicing your spanish on me because of our test later, or because you want to impress me?" you quizzed him as you put on your glasses, him laughing a little at your bluntness. "come on, can't your boyfriend call you his one and only, linda?" he asked you sweetly as he took your hand. "you look really pretty with your glasses on, and even when they're off... i can't take my eyes off you."

gwen would have thought that a few lowlife bullies stole your glasses when she caught you in between periods at the hallway, wandering about, your hand extended in front of you slightly as you tried to weave your way through the crowd. gwen rushed over to you, knowing how bad your eyesight was, she was worried you'd bump into someone or something. she took your hand as she called your name, and you stopped. recognizing that voice, you turned your head to look at a fuzzy image of light blonde hair with light blue blobs on a face that looked distortedly concerned. "oh, hey gwinny." you said awkwardly, hoping it was gwen. "hi, where, uh, where are your glasses?" she asked you, to which you laughed nervously at that, scratching your cheek all the while, trying to come up with the right way to say it. "i... left them at home." you admitted. gwen sighed. "this is the, what, third time this month?" she asked as she held on to you tighter. you chuckled again. "ah, fourth time, actually." you corrected her as she shook her head and cracked a smile. "you can still read my handwriting, right?" "takes a while to register since you write your 'b's and 'p's so similarly, but i can manage. thanks, gwinny." you thanked her as she playfully hit your arm and smiled. "you owe me a tutoring session tonight for this."

pav would not have realized you needed glasses until he noticed how close you were to the papers that were posted on the bulletin board when he came up to you. "whatcha reading?" he'd ask you as he crept up towards you, and you'd've yelped a little in surprise, unsure who was in front of you until you saw a blurry shape of his signature hair. "now either it's spider man or it's just you, pav." you remarked sarcastically as pav grinned at you. "come on, don't kid around, you know it's me! spider man's not as dashing as i am, you know." he said. "sorry, you're just really blurry right now." you muttered as you rubbed your eyes. he tilted his head to the side. "blurry? wait... do you need glasses?" he asked, to which you perked up and looked at his direction. "...yeah." pav nodded as he leaned closer towards you. "well that explains why you keep leaning over to my side when we're in class, copying notes." he said as he brushed your hair off your face and smiled radiantly at you. "i've got you, though. i'll be by your side all day, i'll help you out as much as you need me to!" he beamed. "man, i really do wanna see you in glasses, though. bet you'd look super cute in them, and, oh, to have me pushing them up on your face when they're about to fall off..." he teased you as you blushed and pouted at him. "in your dreams, prabhakar." you spat at him as he chuckled.

hobie would have been slightly confused as you kept looking at the ground as you walked, and hastily looked up and around, waving your hands around as you tried to tread your way through the rows of people walking past you. he rushed over to you, concerned about what might've come over you. "you alright? you seem a little uncomfy." he asked you with a tone of slight worry as you looked up at the tall boy, making out a blurry image of his wicks and his dark skin as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "oh, don't tell me you got your lenses nicked off you." he said with a small smirk. you shook your head. "they weren't nicked, just... i lost them last night, and now i have to get replacements." you said with a sad sigh. hobie chuckled. "what's your eye grade?" he asked as he took your hand in his own larger ones. you blushed at the touch but cleared your throat to answer him. he nodded and smirked wider. "y'know, you could get yourself some replacements, go ahead, it's your personal liberty; but i'd... i'd like to make you some custom frames, courtesy of your beloved hobart. what do you say?" he asked as he leaned closer to you. "i'd... like that a lot." you admitted. "wonderful. now, let me make sure you don't stumble over your own cute little feet." he said as he lifted you up and carried you in a bridal style manner, out of concern you might bump into someone or something, of course.

a/n: HOBIE AND MILES KAKSKDJDJDKDFHFOFNFJDKKSNDKDLD

tags !! @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @luvstarrstruck @fictarian