#why was i the one who had to apologize after that...asked him not to make assumptions about my family and he teared up

[kisses4themissus]

Just A Fool | M.R X Reader

a/n: happy mothers day y'all...why not celebrate mother's day with some cuteness...and angst.. pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Single Mom!Reader wc: 5.2k (idk I blinked and it was at 5k)

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Chatter and clicking of plates and cups filled the restaurant.

“So?” Robby began, glancing over to Lacey then to you beside her. “How did you not know she’s mine?” You asked, confused how he had assumed she was your niece. “I wasn’t thinking, does anyone else know?” he asked, glancing over to see Lacey already staring at him.

“I thought everyone knew i was a mom, lovebug stop staring at him.” You said, patting lacey’s hand on the table.

“He looks like the guy from josh’s game!” Lacey realized after staring intently at robby. “If having a kid turns you away then– what did you say?” you turned to lacey who sat next to you smiling at robby.

“He looks like the army guy!” She laughed, before turning to robby, sitting up on her knees. “My mommy likes his face hair.” She told Robby, who chuckled and titled his head. “Army guy?” Robby questioned.

“She thinks you look like a call of duty character.” You explained, chuckling to yourself. 

With a shocked expression, Robby stared at Lacey for a bit before turning to you. “She plays call of duty?” he asked, shocked as the little girl began to nod proudly.

You laughed and shook your head. “Her older cousins play but they let her get on the mic to talk shit.” You explained, looking over to see Lacey searching for her restaurant crayon. 

Robby nodded at the explanation. “I’ve dated a single mom before, she had a son…his name is jake.” Robby spoke softly as he watched you recognize the name.

“The boy who lost his girlfriend at pittfest?” You questioned, earning a slow nod from robby.

“He told me that he had gone to a therapist and said that it didn’t help but when he went to the hospital, he ran into someone..” Robby hinted, making you nod.

“I know the grief he’s going through, told him I wished Adamson was here so I could give him a proper apology.” you told robby, running your hand over the back of lovebug’s head 

There was a beat of silence before Robby asked.

“Was the person you lost her dad?” Robby motioned for lovebug who was too busy following the little maze on her place setting to listen to the adults.

You shook your head. “I wish he was her dad, he would’ve been a great one.” You sighed, looking down at the little girl. Robby saw the look of sadness and backed off the topic. 

Feeling eyes on her, Lacey looked up and saw both you and robby staring at her. “What?” She asked, looking a bit upset. “Got a problem?” She asked, raising her crayon to point at robby and you.

Robby chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “I haven’t said anything.” 

Lacey sighed and nodded before flipping her place mat to face Robby, handing him a yellow crayon. She tapped the paper and pointed to her little tic tac toe board where she had placed a big X in the middle.

Glancing over you took in a deep breath and looked at robby with a smile. “Good luck, she’s good at those..” You sighed, picking up your drink.

Robby had begun to play with Lacey, at first letting her win but slowly grew to be competitive as she managed to trap him each time before running her red crayon over a line of hidden X’s. He leaned across the table and looked at Lacey in a mix of shock and awe.

“How do you keep doing that?” He laughed as Lacey shrugged before turning to you.

“How much longer, I'm hungry!” She dragged out her letters, flopping over on your shoulder.

You laughed and rubbed her head. “I’m not sure lovebug, we’re not the only people in here eating.” You explained, motioning towards the other booths and tables.

She sighed and placed her hands under her chin as she sat back down. She looked out the window before sighing once more, a bit more dramatic.

Both you and robby exchanged a look.

“Why does your family all call her that?” Robby asked, earning a laugh from you.

“Before I found out I was pregnant, I claimed I had a really terrible stomach bug, that’s why I was always tired, vomiting, and grumpy. So when I took a test and it was positive my brothers teased me by saying I had a lovebug in my stomach.” You explained.

Robby chuckled and nodded. “She’s more of a bedbug though!” You teased, tickling her sides. 

“Stop it mommy!” She laughed, wiggling from you.

You let her go and smiled as she sighed and moved back to her part of the booth, leaning over the table, Lacey looked at robby.

“Dr. robby. what’s your favorite color?” She asked, tapping the table with her pink painted nails. Robby chuckled and pretended to think.

“Blue.” He answered, earning a nod from lovebug.

“I like blue, my favorite is green.” She smiled at the doctor. 

“How was rat practice?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink, watching as Lacey perked up.

“Great, me and the older kids said on opening night we should do WWE rats, and– and I'd be the flying rat off the couch!” She explained, her eyes bright as she said her plan. You and Robby laughed.

“And the boys agreed?” You asked, laughing into your cup.

“Yep, Jason said to do it!” She nodded, waiting for you to finish your drink before asking for a sip.

Robby’s heart warmed as he watched you and Lacey across from him.

Lacey happily drank the lemonade, streaks of the drink on the sides of her mouth, she sighed and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here honey.” Robby handed the little girl his napkin, smiling warmly as she nodded and wiped her face and arm. “Thanks dr. robby!” She grinned.

“You just call me robby.” His heart grew as you laughed.

“But you’re a doctor!” Lovebug tried to reason. “Like when mommy isn’t nice, I call her dr. mommy.” She explained before taking gulps of more lemonade.

“What’s your favorite food lacey?” Robby asked, making the little girl stop her gulps, she let out a deep gasp before answering.

“I like cheesy noodles!” She explained, making Robby tilt his head in confusion. 

“Fettuccine alfredo.” You clarified, lacey nodding in agreement. She turned to your purse and searched through it. Leaving you and robby to your own conversation.

 - - - - - - - -

Leaving the restaurant, you attempted to carry lacey who looked around the street, her sugar rush going crazy.

Robby noticed the look on your face as Lacey chattered and attempted to climb around you and quickly stepped in.

“C’mon monkey.” He took lacey and held her up. You smiled at the two. Lacey settled down a bit as Robby placed her on the ground before giving her a piggyback ride.

“Sure, your old man back won’t give out?” You teased, earning a laugh from robby; the fluttering in your stomach resumed. “I can’t guarantee it.” he joked, following as you walked to your car down the street.

As you passed an ice cream parlor, you took a deep breath and waited.

“Ooh, can we stop!” Lacey squealed, making you chuckle. Robby glanced at you with a grin. 

“It is nice to have dessert after dinner.” Robby teased, making you sighed before nodding at the pair, who cheered and walked inside. As the tired employee greets you three, staring at the ice cream flavors you turned to ask what everyone was getting only to see a sight that’d melt your heart.

Robby had moved Lacey to be in his arms, nodding as she pointed out different flavors she had liked the sound of. You felt red as robby’s free hand fell to your lower back and guided you to the counter.

“We’ll take a waffle cone with, what did you say you wanted honey?” Robby asked, looking at Lacey who sat comfortable in his arms.

“Cotton candy!” She squealed, making robby chuckle and nod at the employee before turning to you.

“What do you want?” he asked, not noticing how flustered you were. “Um- can i get a brownie sundae please.” You ordered, your face feeling overwhelmingly warm.

The employee nodded and typed something on the register screen. “And one fudge sundae.” Robby finished, removing his hand from your back to get his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“Hold this honey.” Robby told Lacey who nodded and held his leather wallet as he got out a twenty. At the same time you had pulled up your digital wallet on your phone.

You and robby looked at each other, robby looked almost offended as you attempted to pay. “Put that away, I'm treating you girls.” He playfully scolded you, making you nervously chuckle, nodding as you turned your phone off, letting him hand over the bill.

“Could you get the change for me, Lacey's shoe is falling off.” He asked, not waiting for a response, walking over to a booth and sat lacey down before helping the little girl with her Mary Jane shoes.

“Cute family.” The employee smiled at you, handing the change over.

You stuttered to get the words out. “Thanks..” You smiled and quickly walked over to the two.

After you and robby had shared your sundaes with each other, you three continued the way to your car.

As you unlocked the back door and loaded Lacey in, she sighed and whined. 

“What’s wrong babybug?” You asked, running a hand on her leg, trying to sooth her. “I don’t want dr. robby to leave!” She sighed, looking at Robby with puppy eyes. “Please come home with me and mommy!” She pleaded. 

You sighed at her. “Eat your ice cream before it melts some more!” You pointed to the waffle cone, she followed your finger and quickly jumped up to start eating it.

Both you and robby chuckled, softly shutting the door. You turned to robby and looked around the parking lot to see a few cars.

“Which is yours?” You asked, finally looking at him who smiled at you. “I walked.” He shrugged, watching as your eyes widened. “What?!” You scoffed at him. “And I thought carrying lovebug would’ve taken your back out..” You lightly laughed.

He nodded and motioned for you to get in the car. 

“You can’t be serious, I'm not gonna drive off and leave you to walk back to your apartment michael..” You said, noticing the flushed look on robby’s face. “What did you call me?” He asked, a sly grin growing.

You recalled your words and froze at the slip up. “Robby…I meant robby!” You attempted to cover. He nodded and grinned. “Nice cover slick.” 

“Are you getting in the passenger or what?” You asked, turning to the driver’s seat.

Robby laughed and nodded, opening the driver's door for you before running to the passenger side.

 - - - - - - - -

Somehow lacey had managed to convince you and robby to go back to your own apartment, robby agreed on staying till lovebug had passed out.

Unlocking the door, you sighed and smiled as Lacey ran into the living room and threw herself at the couch. Robby stayed at the doorway and admired the apartment, hanging plants in every corner of the rooms, a small kitchen and living room, two doors on each side of the apartment; easily you could tell which was Lacey's the colored construction paper and stickers stuck on the white door.

You kicked off your shoes and walked to your kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a cold water bottle, you turned to robby and offered one. “No thanks, nice place.” He nodded and looked around.

“Thank you.” You smiled, walking around the kitchen and poured the water into a bottle with cartoon characters before going to the couch and handing Lacey the plastic cup, “drink it for me please!” You smiled as the little girl began to chug it down.

She hopped onto the sofa, and patted the spot next to her for robby to sit, you sat on the opposite side of lacey and picked up the remote.

“Movie or bluey?” You asked lovebug who paused before looking at robby then back at you. “Movie since dr. Robby hasn't seen bluey!” She sighed, motioning for you to pick a movie out. 

Robby chuckled as she slouched down, and watched as you scrolled through movies, waiting for someone to pick.

“OH ALADDIN!” Lacey popped up from the couch and pointed at the screen. You hovered over the disney movie and turned to see Robby watching with a smile as Lacey bounced around, waiting.

He glanced at you and nodded.

It had barely gotten half way through when Lacey's sugar high hit, causing her to crash on the carpet in front of the hung tv. “She looks like a bug that’s been squished.” Robby chuckled, leaning over as you got up and prepared yourself to pick her up.

“Oh that’s because she’s tired from her long day, normally she’s fighting off demons.” You joked, you picked up the half full water bottle and placed it on the table to the side of the sofa.

Robby got up from the couch and carefully scooped up lovebug and looked at you. 

Too busy staring at robby’s broad shoulders you hadn’t noticed him gently shushing Lacey as she whined in her sleep, gently patting her back. Snapping back, you led robby to her room and watched as robby sat her down gently, you walked over and settled her in.

Robby smiled at Lacey's room; fairy lights were strung up across the room’s ceiling, painted stars on the walls, he looked back and blushed; It had felt oddly right to be domestic with you.

With a forehead kiss, you backed away from Lacey's room, turning on her fairy lights before leaving the room with robby.

Robby quietly shut her room door, noticing as you walked to your kitchen to clean up. 

He sighed and walked over to you. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” He smiled as you turned to him, two wine glasses in hand. “So soon?” You grinned, placing the glasses down on the island before turning to an upper cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine.

Robby chuckled and sighed, looking down. “Alright, you got me.” He shook his head and walked further into the kitchen as you popped open the bottle. 

Robby took it gently from your hands and began pouring some into the glasses.

You scoffed at the amount. “Give me that, stop trying to be cheap with it!” You both laughed, taking the bottle from his hands.

He watched as you poured more wine into the glasses.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” He asked, a sly grin on his face as you froze in place.

“...possibly..” You looked at him quickly before taking a long sip of the wine. “I mean, I'm not opposed.” he told you before taking a drink. Feeling flushed, you watched as he drank more. “If you think you can stay quiet then absolutely..” You shrugged, placing down your glass.

There was a beat before both you and robby leaned into each other and let your lips touch, it was exciting, your stomach curled in as he reached to cup your face, bring you deeper into the kiss.

You pulled away first, smiling as he followed your lips. Placing your hands on his chest you motioned to your bedroom. Robby smiled and picked you up, cupping your bottom as he carried you to the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you both.

 - - - - - - - -

Waking up to the smell of food was unusual for robby. He looked up from where he laid, all the memories of the night before rushed back, the late night chat with you.

He grinned and got up, putting on his clothes from the day before. Opening the door he saw you in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you made coffee and prepared something. Walking over he stopped at the kitchen island, smiled as you turned and grinned at him.

“Morning robby..” You said a bit shyly. He chuckled and walked over you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Good morning, sleep well?” He asked, you closed your eyes and leaned your head against him. “Be quiet!” You giggled.

Robby had begun to help you make sandwiches, he raised an eyebrow as he placed another into a zip lock bag. “What are these for?” He asked, slightly confused.

You chuckled as you finished another sandwich. “Every other weekend, I get lacey all dressed up and cutesy and we go have a picnic.” You explained.

“That’s sweet.” Robby smiled.

As you both talked about your date, Lacey's door swung open to show a tired and crazy haired lacey. Her pajamas all messed up, one pant leg was hoisted up by her knee while the other was on the ground, her shirt was now backwards.

She walked out and rubbed her eyes as she yawned, she dragged over a stepping stool and hopped onto a stool nearby to sit down.

Robby quietly chuckled at the sight while you smiled and walked over to your crazy little girl. “You ready for our picnic?” You asked, earning a nod from her.

“Is dr. Robby coming with?” She asked, quietly. You looked over your shoulder and shrugged. You leaned in and shrugged at you. “I think you should ask him.” Your words made her light up.

“Do you want to go with us dr. robby?” Lacey asked, sitting up looking at robby with her puppy dog eyes once more.

He sighed and nodded. “I’d love to!” He grinned. With an answer lacey nodded and motioned for you to help her down.

Lacey ran off to your bathroom to brush her teeth and her hair. Leaving you and robby alone again.

Robby looked down at his clothes before nodding to himself, with a deep breath he walked over to you and leaned in. “I need to go back to my place, I need an outfit for the picnic with you lovely ladies.” He grinned as you got flustered and nodded, robby leaned in and kissed your cheek before leaving your apartment, out walked lacey, toothbrush in her mouth, her comb stuck in her hair as she looked around and shrugged at you. 

“Where’s dr. robby?” She mumbled, making you giggle before walking over and guided her back to the bathroom. “He went home to change, just like we need to change you into your dress.”

 - - - - - - - -

Robby had sent you a text about a park he knew that had good shade and a playground to take lacey to. You had agreed to meet there, packing up the picnic basket, a big enough blanket and getting lacey into the car; thankfully you had gotten there peacefully and quickly.

You carried the basket while Lacey insisted she carried the blanket, she walked through the grass, smiling as little kids ran past and towards the big playground. You had spotted robby across the park and walked with lacey over to him.

“Hi Michael!” Lacey yelled, making Robby turn and smile widely at you both.

You laughed and looked at lacey. “How do you know his name?” You asked, the little girl shrugged.

“After ice cream you called him michael.” She explained, running over as Robby knelt down to her height.

“Look at how pretty your dress is!” Robby smiled and spun her around, making her skirt fan out.

She laughed and sighed as he stopped and turned to you, his cheeks tinting pink.

You stood before him in a matching dress with lacey, a basket in hand and a warm smile on your face made his heart palpitate. “You look wonderful too!” He told you, taking the basket from your arm as lacey attempted to lay the blanket out.

“Thanks robby!” You smiled, helping lacey before sitting down on the blanket. Turning back to him, you chuckled as robby stood still, watching over you both.

“Come sit.” You patted the spot next you, robby nodded and with a groan sat down, placing the basket to the side. 

Lovebug began to buzz on her knees as kids ran past laughing, she turned to you.

Without having to ask you nodded at her and watched as she zoomed to the playground. “She could hardly wait.” Robby laughed, his arm going around your waist. You watched with a smile as Lacey joined a group of kids easily and began to play.

“I didn’t get to tell you but you look very nice as well.” You complimented, turning your head to robby who was looking over his shoulder. “I don’t look as good as you in that dress though.” He winked, making you both chuckle.

TIme had passed, you and robby had ended up cuddled together under the tree, watching as Lacey played with other kids, talking about anything and everything. 

You sighed and turned to look at robby, he had opened up about his struggle with adamson’s death then jake and his fallout. Your mouth frowned as you opened your mouth.

“Her dad’s name is nicholas callahan..” you started, earning a look from robby as you opened up. “He was my ballet partner, he and my ex boyfriend were best friends, everyone at the studio was surprised to find out that me and him had begun dating rather than me dating nick.” You looked down at your palms, not meeting robby’s gaze.

“When everything had happened, Nick comforted me...I was a fool, he took advantage  of my grief and convinced me to sleep with him; he said it’d take the weight off..” You sighed, feeling Robby's grip tightening on your waist in anger at Lacey's father.

“When I realized I was pregnant and went to tell him…he had left for Scotland, saying he didn’t want to be stuck in one place; I told my mom I wanted to quit ballet and the reason why.” You finally looked up to see Robby's eyes of remorse.

“That dick..” Robby muttered under his breath.

“He’s only seen lovebug a few times, she knows who he is, what he does for work; and how rarely she sees him.” You began to tear up. “My ex’s family knows about the whole thing, they adore lacey.” You chuckle, looking up to see robby looking distracted behind you. 

“She really likes you y’know.” You added, noticing the far off look in robby’s eyes but brushed it off.

He absentmindedly agreed, a pain struck your heart at his actions. 

You looked over to see lacey on the monkey bars, playing chicken with another little girl. As you turned back to robby, you saw him with his phone out, typing quickly.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, robby sighed and got up from the blanket. “I need to deal with something but you and Lacey have a good picnic.” He gave a peck on your lips before giving a quick smile before running to the other side of the park, leaving you alone on the gingham blanket.

Calling lacey over you had pulled out the sandwiches and ate as lacey talked your ear off about her new friends, part of your mind listened while the other half wondered why robby left urgently.

 - - - - - - - -

Going back to the hospital after spending the weekend with robby was lonely, no help with lacey’s questions of medical things she’d hear you both talking about.

As you scanned your badge into the ICU a mix of night shift and day shift all stood together around the nurses station, watching you with wide grins. You ignored them and placed your things down before going to log into a computer.

The night doctor stared at you before sighing and walking over to your desk. “So, how was your weekend?” She asked, smiling down at you.

You chuckled as you scrolled through files from the night before. “It was good, took lovebug to the park, got into a fight at my parents studio oh and made cookies!” You listed before turning to see the pile of workers.

“You forgot your date with dr. robby!” She giggled, making your face drop. 

“What? How did you know about that?” You asked, standing up, your face feeling warm. She quickly pulled out her phone and showed you a photo.

It was of you and robby at the coffee shop, both smiling at each other almost looking like a couple, it was clearly taken across the street.

“We met up for coffee…so what?” You asked bashfully, glancing back down at your new lockscreen. She laughed and leaned against the desks. “So what? You got your biggest hater to go on a date with you!” She laughed and began to clap at you.

You quickly stopped her. “Can we stop talking about my love life in front of all the patients, please?” You asked, gesturing to the open room doors.

She sighed and waved you off. “Most are intubated or probably want to hear something other than a depressing diagnosis.” She insisted; making you sigh.

“Fine, it was a date, he may have also stayed the weekend at my place..” You smirked shyly. 

A bunch of squeals and gasps came from the ICU workers. “Are you dating?” One of the respiratory nurses asked, grinning widely. You sighed and tilted your head to think. “Umm– I’m not too sure, he hasn’t officially said..” Your words made everyone stop and stare at you.

“And he stayed over?” The night doctor asked once more, making you nod.

Quickly the excitement disbursed. “I knew he was a player..” One of them sighed, shaking their head.

“What do you mean?” you asked, watching as the ICU workers began to pick off some post it notes off the fridge, groaning at each one.

“Do I have to tell her?” The nurse sighed, earning a nod from the others. She sighed and walked over to you and rubbed your arm as she sat you down.

“There’s rumors of dr. robby dating dr. Collins and for a while the rumor was dead but… lately all the other departments have been talking about them,” She sighed, your stomach tightened before releasing. 

“Apparently, one of the girls in CT saw them snuggled up together just this past weekend at the park by that one deli shop..” She finished, watching for your reaction.

The park…the park he had suggested for you, Lacey and him go for your picnic, the park where he kissed you at–.

You sighed and shook your head. 

“Their exes so what, maybe he needs closure..” You tried to excuse, your stomach began to sink as you thought about it some more. “I need to go get some fresh air..” You quickly got up from your chair and exited the ICU.

As you passed through the pitt, you were stopped by Langdon and McKay who both smiled widely at you. “Wanna place a bet?” Langdon asked, making you look at him confused.

“What kind?” You sighed, looking around for robby, but failed.

“Rumor has it, Robby's got a girlfriend, and I'd place a bet quickly if I were you..” Langdon smiled, you froze and shook your head. “No thanks, left my wallet upstairs anyways.., hey where’s robby?” You asked, turning to mckay who shrugged and glanced around the ED.

“No ones seen him since he got in.” Dana replied, sighing as she placed her hands on her hips.

You nodded and excused yourself to go to the ambulance bay, as you stepped outside by the bush you sighed and closed your eyes.

As the feeling of bile rising slowly washed away laughter caught your attention.

Opening your eyes you froze as you saw robby with Collins by her car; both laughing together. The bile quickly rose up as you saw the look of love in robby’s eyes.

Finally leaning over, preparing as the bile rose to your throat. Looking up for a final time to see robby rubbing over Collins stomach before cupping her face with a longing look.

The EMTs nearby jumped into action as you vomited into the bush. 

One held your hair back. “Are you alright?” She asked, you nodded and took a shakily breath before wiping your mouth. “Peachy..” You sighed, watching robby and collins off in their own world.

You stood up before walking back into the ED, rushing to the nearest bathroom. Thankfully being a single stall, you locked the door and bent over the sink.

Once again you had been taken as a fool; thinking a man would love you with no bad intention; was him being sweet to lacey just to get you to sleep with him faster.

Sighing, you glanced in the bathroom’s mirror and fixed the stray hairs as tears began to form. Silently crying as you perfected yourself.

Rolling back your shoulders you sighed and wiped away the tears. You stared at yourself before walking back out. As you exited the bathroom, Langdon laughed and shook you by your shoulders. “I won the bet, I knew him and Collins were together again!” He laughed.

You looked over to where the group of ED workers all cheered for the pair.

Among the workers, robby found your eyes, watching as they went from lovingly to sharp. He went to excuse himself but you had been faster as you slipped to the staff elevators with a blank expression.

 - - - - - - - -

The ICU had noticed the subtle shift of your personality; it was only seen on your worst days.

Everyone had quietly spoken about it. You had been snippy with any ED call, denying any bed space and allowing any OR patients the bed first. 

While on a cafeteria run, you walked through the ED, ignoring the gaze stuck on your back.

As you passed a curtained room, someone calling your name made you stop. You turned and opened the curtain and begged for your day to be over or to keel over and be bedridden.

“Nick..” You sighed, fixing the end of your jacket, feeling insecure around him; Nick the man your whole family hated, the man your heart still had affection for, Lacey's father.

He sighed at the sight of you.

“You still look pretty as always.” he smiled, admiring as you looked around the room. “What are you here for?” You asked, avoiding his gaze.

“Got trampled by some folks during a fire drill.” He explained, smirking at you. “Are you my doctor?” He smiled charmingly at you.

As you opened your mouth to speak the curtain was pulled back to show robby, collins and santos.

You saw robby and shut your mouth before turning to nick. “I got bumped upstairs, better patients and doctors.” You told him, using santos as a shield from robby walking closer to you. 

“These will be your doctors, dr. Collins, dr. santos and…dr. robinavitch.” You motioned to the three, seeing robby’s hurt expression from the corner of your eye.

“You still have my number right, let me see you and lovebug this weekend?” He asked, you turned and noticed robby’s furrowed brows at the patient.

“My apartment’s still the same.” You told Nick before walking to the elevators, leaving Robby to brew in his anger.

robby taglist!! @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @evans-dejong @lovebuggyies @snowflames-world @whimsicalfungiforager @itschelseacisneros @kmc1989 @foolishseven @rhysology @delicatetrashtree @equallyshaw @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @dantemorenatalie @18lkpeters @ohmystrawberrycheesecake @blackblueberries @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @isla-finke-blog @baileythepenguin

[firewasabeast]

I Never Really Had a Friend

A Buck-focused, bucktommy story. tags: Starting Over, Grief/Mourning, Getting Back Together, Ending Friendships, Bobby's death is mentioned, Eddie's toxic/abusive tendencies are briefly discussed, Bobby's suicidal thoughts are mentioned, Happy Ending. Rating: M. 5.4k. read below or on ao3.

Buck is sitting in the hospital, holding his nephew, thinking about the past few months of his life. The past year, really. The good, bad, and downright painful. He tries to remember the last time he was happy. Really happy.

He thinks it might be when he stumbled into his house, lips attached to Tommy’s, the two of them giggling like teenagers getting away with something.

Maybe, more precisely, it was the next morning. After he said it didn’t have to mean anything, and Tommy asked why not. For a brief moment, all the stars aligned, and everything felt right again.

Until, just as quickly, it all fell apart.

He blinks away tears, sticks his finger out for the baby to grab onto, and smiles.

Chimney’s talking to Maddie, getting her lunch order. She’s been craving an Italian sub for months, but wants it a very specific way, so Buck phases out of the conversation and focuses on his own never-ending train of thought.

Because if he really thinks about it, most of his happy memories from the past year include Tommy.

It sort of felt like the ground underneath him gave way the day Tommy left his apartment and, ever since then, he’s been trying to climb out of a gravelly pit that crumbles more every time he takes a step.

Something deep in his gut clenches when he thinks about Tommy for too long. He’s got ten unanswered messages from him, waiting for a response. Two each week since Bobby died.

Five missed phone calls too. The most recent was yesterday.

Consistent.

Buck wonders how long he’ll keep doing it. How long will he keep texting and calling before he gives it up? Before he realized Buck isn’t worth it.

He’s surprised Tommy has lasted this long, honestly.

It wasn’t that he had meant to ignore him. Tommy hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was just that Buck missed the first message, and the second one. Then he wasn’t by his phone for the first call.

And once he saw all that he’d missed, he started to write out an apology text.

Then he got distracted.

And now it felt like too much time had passed.

Time.

Buck wonders how much of that he’s got left. He feels like he’s lived a million lives already. Feels like he’s used up all of his luck. Next time… next time it’s him in that lab. Next time, he’s the one out of a third option. Next time, they’re carrying him out of the church and following behind his casket at the procession.

It makes him think of Bobby.

Bobby who, eight years ago, wouldn’t have cared to die in that lab. Who would have found nothing but peace inside of him when he realized he was infected. Wouldn’t have shed a tear.

He would have gone willingly, happily, maybe even purposefully.

The bonds he formed with everyone at the station never would have happened.

He never would have married Athena.

Never would have gotten all those extra years.

Wouldn’t have had people to miss him, to ache for him, every single moment of every single day if he’d given up back then.

He’s not sure how it all connects in his mind. It’d probably be a jumbled mess to anyone else. But to Buck, it’s clear as day.

He knows what he needs to do.

*****

Tommy’s hair is a curly mop of a mess when he opens the door. He’s half asleep, a blanket draped over his shoulders.

It’s the middle of the day, but Buck knows he just got done with a shift a couple of hours ago.

“Evan?” His head is slightly tilted to the side, face scrunched up in a sleepy confusion. “Dreamin’?”

Buck smiles, breathes out a laugh. “No, um, I- I needed to talk to you.”

Tommy moves out of the way, holding the door open for Buck to come inside.

“Sorry for not calling or texting you first,” he says as Tommy shuts the door behind him. “I just… it needed to be now.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy assures him, running his fingers through his hair. It does nothing but make his hair poof even higher. “Are you okay?”

Buck nods, a bit too enthusiastically to be believed. “Yeah, I- I’m good.”

“Mm.” Tommy tries to blink the sleep from his eyes. He points towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna fix some coffee. Try to wake up a little bit.”

Buck follows him to the kitchen, smiling as he listens to the sleepy patter of his feet. Tommy is a machine at work. Ready to jump up and fly at a moments notice. But, when he was home, he let his body rest. Let himself fall into a sleep so deep that, sometimes, Buck was sure the house could collapse around him and he’d never hear a thing.

Buck was actually surprised he’d heard the ringing of the doorbell… even if he did ring it twenty times in a row.

When it takes Tommy two tries to remember which cabinet his coffee is in, Buck nudges him out of the way. “Sit,” he says. “Let me. Least I can do after waking you.”

Tommy doesn’t argue. He sits at the barstool and waits, quietly. Buck doesn’t look back until the coffee has finished brewing. He half expects Tommy to be asleep, head tucked into the crook of his elbow.

But Tommy is watching him. Reading him. Studying him.

Buck looks away, pours Tommy a cup. “I probably should have called,” he mentions again.

“It’s really fine, Evan. I don’t go back to work for two days. Plenty of time to sleep.”

Buck finishes fixing his coffee, then slides it across the island. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. So, what’s up?”

“Just, take a few sips,” Buck replies, pushing the mug closer to Tommy. “Let yourself wake up a little bit.”

Tommy grins, lifting the mug and taking a sip. He sighs as it goes down.

Perfect.

“How was work?” Buck asks, keeping conversation light until Tommy is ready.

“Not bad. Not much downtime, but that seems to be the norm lately.”

“Yeah, it’s th- the same at our station too.”

Tommy takes another sip, then straightens his posture. “Okay, I’m awake now.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

A deep breath, a nod, and Buck begins. “I’ve been thinking, a lot, about a lot of things. My mind feels like a hamster on one of those wheels lately, just spinning, spinning, spinning, spi-” He waves a hand, stopping himself. “Anyway, um, I feel like my life is nothing like I want it to be. There’s a lot of things I thought I’d have by now, and there’s a lot of things I want, but I don’t say anything about it. I just shut my mouth and shut down and let things happen.” He squints at Tommy. “Am I making any sense?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. So, I- I’ve been wasting time. A lot of it, this last year. Well, maybe not the whole year, but most of it. And Bobby, he- he spent so long being unhappy, you know? Years of his life were spent in this- this limbo. And now he’s gone. I just… I keep thinking that in the end, all we have is time.” He’s rambling. He knows it. Tommy knows it. He reels himself in. “Tommy, I don’t want to keep wasting time, and I don’t want to die without telling you how I feel. I want to be with you, i- if that’s what you want. I want to try again. I want to do this right. I want to be honest. I miss you. I’ve been missing you for months now and I hate wondering if each time I see you will be the last time."

Tommy stares at Buck for a moment, then looks down at his cup. “Maybe one more sip.”

Okay. Now Buck was going to panic.

“I- I’m sorry,” he rushes out. “I’m doing it again. I’m being impulsive and I’m m- making it about me and I don’t-”

“No,” Tommy interrupts, his voice as calm and polite as ever, “it’s… here.” He pushes out the seat beside him, giving it a pat. “Will you sit down, please?” Buck comes around and sits, anxiously wiping his sweaty hands down his pants. “Evan, I’ve tried talking to you for over a month.”

“I know. I- I’m sorry for that too.”

“No, I’m not… Evan, you don’t need to be sorry. I get it, I understand. I just- part of me thought-” he sighs, searching for the right words. “I figured you didn’t want to talk to me. I kept thinking I was bothering you, but I had to do something. When I opened the door I was kinda figuring you were here to tell me to leave you alone. Things have veered in a direction I was not expecting.” He lays his hand out on the counter, palm up, ready for Buck to take.

So he does.

“You have a way of doing that, you know?” Tommy says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Freaking you out?” Buck offers.

“Surprising me,” Tommy responds. He gives Buck hand a squeeze. “Evan, I… are you sure?”

“About wanting to be with you?”

“Yes.”

“I think it’s the only thing in my life I’m one hundred percent sure of right now,” he answers honestly. “But I want you t- to be sure. I don’t want you to say yes just because you think you ha-”

He’s cut off as Tommy stands, places a hand on either side of his face, and presses their lips together.

For a second, Buck freezes. His hands curl into fists, then they relax, and he’s taking a deep breath, and grabbing onto Tommy’s shirt and the blanket he’s still got wrapped around him.

For a moment nothing else in the world exists. This, right here, a sturdy body with a gentle soul, is everything in the world.

And then Tommy pulls away.

“Sorry for the coffee breath,” he whispers between them, their foreheads pressed together.

Buck laughs.

A real, genuine laugh.

It feels scary.

It feels wrong.

It feels amazing.

“I don’t care,” he replies. “Just do it again.”

*****

Buck is standing in the middle of Eddie’s living room.

No. His living room.

At least for one more week.

It’s almost empty.

He wishes he’d never put all of his boxes out for recycling. He never thought he’d need them again, and so soon.

He feels as empty as the room looks. A hollow shell of a person.

He shouldn’t. He recognizes that. This is good, in the long run. It’s exactly what he’s wanted.

He’s not about to be homeless. He offered to go. Offered to give Eddie the place back. In a surprising turn of events, two weeks after getting back together, following a failed date night and a round of sex that never happened due to an accidental kick to the groin, Tommy had grunted out the words, “You should move in with me,” right as Buck placed an ice pack on his crotch.

They discussed it for the rest of the night.

Then had successful sex the next morning.

So Buck isn’t upset about leaving. Not really.

But it’s in this space, this room filled with memories and ghosts, that Buck decides he’s never really had a friend.

Because, yes, he’d offered the place back to Eddie. It’s why he decided to sublease it in the first place. But then Eddie bought a place in Texas, and the move seemed permanent, and Buck… Buck moved in.

So when Eddie decided they were coming back, the words stumbled out of Buck’s mouth without a thought. “That’s great! When do you need your place back by?”

And Eddie responded with a date.

He didn’t ask if Buck had anywhere to go.

He didn’t say he could find a new place of his own.

He didn’t even say thank you.

He responded with a date.

Buck didn’t think about it at the time. In the silence of this house though, a house that once again fills with echoes at the slightest sound, it’s all he can think about.

He decides, right then and there, to make a change.

Test the waters.

He becomes unavailable over the following weeks. He settles in with Tommy, and Eddie settles back into his old home. Then Eddie calls, invites Buck over on Friday.

Buck almost says yes, but something stops him.

Or, rather, he stops himself.

“Why, what’s up?” he says instead.

“Well, you know that woman I met at the building collapse?”

Buck does, vaguely. “Mhm.”

“She gave me her number and we made plans to go out. I figured you and Chris could hang here, catch up.”

Buck loves Chris. He really does. He’d do anything for the kid.

Which is why he pauses for nearly five seconds before replying, “Sorry, Tommy and I have plans. Maybe someone else can watch him for you. Gotta go.”

Two more offers to babysit comes up in less than two weeks time. Buck declines each one. He waits until Chris texts him himself, asks if he wants to hang out, play video games, eat junk food.

Buck and Tommy pick him up together, head back to their place, have a guys day.

Buck and Tommy have talked about it, the way Buck feels. The way the scale never quite evens out. He tells Tommy one night, “I know I can make things about me, I know I can be selfish, but I feel like I’m never able to talk about how I feel at all. Like, i- if I do, I need to feel bad about it… or that, maybe, next time, he’ll do more than get in my face. I don’t think that’s what friendship is supposed to be.”

“Evan,” Tommy had responded, pulling him in to lay on his chest, “you’re the least selfish person I know. Anyone who makes you feel otherwise… I’m sorry, but, they don’t know you at all.”

And that was the thing.

Eddie didn’t know him at all.

Because every time Buck had tried to open up about anything serious, Eddie slammed the door in his face.

"Want me to talk to him?" 

"No. Thanks, but no."

“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Tommy suggested. “Tell him how you feel.”

Buck huffed out a laugh. “I like the way my nose looks now.”

*****

While he does reduce his time around Eddie to working hours only, he ends up spending more time with Ravi. As Hen takes over as captain, Eddie becomes a licensed paramedic. Buck and Ravi are almost always paired up at work, and they end up working really well together. Maybe it’s because Ravi spent years learning all of Buck’s little quirks, but he can usually figure out what Buck needs before Buck actually realizes he needs it.

This works both ways, and they find they’re a spectacularly efficient pair.

Things might’ve started out a little rough for them on the friendship front, but somehow they end up at the same bar, same time, same day, every week.

“Anyway,” Ravi says, sipping on his third drink of the night, “after Hen talked to her, the lady said she decided not to press charges. Which is insane in the first place, because how could she press charges on me for pulling her out of a burning building?”

“Sounds like she had an interesting way of showing her gratitude,” Buck replies with a shake of his head. “It’s always crazy to me how some people will actually get mad when we don’t let them die in a horrific way.”

“Right?!” Ravi sets down his glass, gives Buck a nod. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you doing?” Ravi asks.

“Oh,” Buck waves him off. “I’m fine. How’s your family?”

“No, no.” Ravi wiggles a finger at him. “I just spent half an hour complaining about my life. The next half hour is yours.”

Buck contemplates his response. Opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.

Then the words spill out like a dam breaking open.

He talks about Bobby, about feeling like the 118 is a shell of its former self. He talks about the fact he spends a lot of nights crying, especially when he has work the next day. He tells Ravi how Tommy does his best to console him, tries everything to make it better. But it’s not really something he’s able to fix.

Buck talks about how he feels like a friendship spanning the better part of eight years now feels like a lie. How he feels used, belittled, and like he gave and gave without ever getting anything back in return.

He talks about the good stuff too. How well he and Tommy are doing. How comfortable they are with each other. How he feels comfortable having flaws, because he knows Tommy loves him anyway. How he feels safe, even when they argue, because Tommy is the most gentle human being he knows.

He talks about Hen, and what a great job she’s doing as captain. How happy he is for her; how much she deserves it. That’s why he feels so bad about the fact that he hates coming into work. Hates being there. It feels wrong. It doesn’t bring him the joy it once did.

And Ravi… Ravi listens. He nods along, and interjects when necessary, and he asks questions. In the end, he may not be the best at giving advice, but he replies with, “Man, that sucks,” and Buck feels like a giant weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

Getting everything off of his chest with someone he works with, someone who he is beginning to consider a friend, feels like a fresh start.

He doesn’t cry the night before work.

Tommy holds him anyway.

He falls into a rhythm. Things are different, but they’re okay.

He has Tommy to talk to, and Ravi. He and Maddie make plans when they can. It usually ends with him spending the most time with his niece and nephew, but he can’t complain about that.

Hen becomes more comfortable as captain, Chimney and Eddie settle in as a duo, and they all still operate well as a unit.

Buck cooks, when he can. Maybe not everyone sits down together for meals anymore, but the majority of them do.

It’s good. They laugh, they talk, they compliment his cooking.

He begins to think he can do this. That maybe it just took more time than he expected to find a new normal after Bobby.

His weekly outings with Ravi become less about complaining and more about general talking and catching up on the little things.

He settles.

Until it all blows up in his face.

He and Ravi have been sent out to help with training new recruits for the day. It’s a normal day, everything is going well.

It hits five o’clock, time for everyone to leave, and Buck is in the middle of giving a pep talk when his phone rings.

Ravi takes over as he accepts the call.

It’s Hen. She heard over the radio that Tommy fell from a ladder while working ground ops. He’s at the hospital getting checked out, but he’s alert now.

There’s one particular word that sticks out to him.

Now.

Buck asks what she means, that he’s alert now?

Hen proceeds to tell him that when he was first brought in this morning, he wasn’t conscious. But now he’s awake and answering questions. Hen, Chim, and Eddie are already at the hospital, waiting for more updates.

There’s a whirring noise happening. Buck feels like he’s stuck in a fun house, surrounded by mirrors, all of his reflections laughing at him.

“You heard this o- over the radio?”

Hen hesitates. “Yes, but Buck-”

“So you’ve known since this morning?”

“Buck, I didn’t want you to think the worst without us knowing first. It’s-”

“I’m on my way.”

Ravi drives him to the hospital.

Buck tries his best to bite his tongue, but as soon as he sees Hen he’s livid again, and he lets it be known.

“You have no right to decide what I can or can’t handle. He’s my partner, and I should have been here with him eight hours ago.”

“Buck, I didn’t-”

“How would you feel if it were Karen?” Buck interrupts. “Or one of your kids?”

“Hey, chill, Man,” Eddie says, sticking his hand inches from Buck’s chest. “She didn’t want you freaking out for nothing, which is exactly what you’re doing.”

Buck’s pretty sure he’s never felt the level of rage he feels in this moment.

He takes a breath, wonders if the steam is actually visible as it escapes through his ears.

“You get your hand the hell away from me, Diaz,” he warns and, to his credit, Eddie takes a couple of steps back. Buck focuses back on Hen. “I’m gonna go be with my boyfriend, like I should have been since this morning. You all can go.”

Before Buck has a chance to walk away, Chimney speaks up. “You need us to get anything for you?”

He sounds embarrassed. Buck hopes he is.

“I can get whatever he needs,” Ravi replies. Buck feels eternally grateful for him. “Go see Tommy,” he says as the others filter out. “Text me whatever you need. I’ll be here.”

Buck can’t help himself. He pulls Ravi in for a hug so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“I’ll see what Tommy needs too,” he says as Ravi returns the hug. “You can come right to the room after.”

“Okay.” Ravi gives him a pat on the back. “Now go see your guy.”

In the end, it’s a hairline fracture in his leg, a sprained wrist, and a minor concussion. Nothing too serious. The only thing Buck and Tommy end up needing from Ravi is a ride home, so he joins them in Tommy’s hospital room and they keep each other company until Tommy is released.

Once Buck gets Tommy into bed, he sits beside him. He props himself up with a couple of pillows, his laptop resting on his thighs. He keeps a hand in Tommy’s hair, running his fingers through his curls.

With his free hand, he types, scrolls, and does research until the sun starts to rise.

He takes the next two weeks off.

Spends it studying for the captain’s promotional test.

*****

He keeps it a secret for as long as he can.

He tells Tommy, who spends all of his recovery time helping Buck study and research and prepare in any and every way possible.

He lets it slip to Ravi on accident, who promises not to say a word.

He actually keeps his promise too.

It’s refreshing.

He manages to take the exam without anyone else finding out. Passes with flying colors. He, Tommy, and Ravi go out for celebratory drinks.

But there’s more to it than the written test.

There’s tactical exercises, role-play scenarios, multiple interviews that include evaluators from outside the department. Even an interview with the department fire chief.

He gets scheduled for role-play scenarios and his first interview before Hen calls him into the office.

“Is this because of what happened with Tommy?” she asks.

He could keep it simple. Say yes.

But that wouldn’t be the entire truth.

“I started looking into it after Tommy was hurt,” he answers instead. “But I’ve been thinking about it since… since Bobby.”

“You’d be put at a different house, Buck,” she reminds him. “We’ve got B and C shift already covered.”

Buck nods. “I know. I- I think that’s part of why I want to do it.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, Hen, you- you’re a great captain. You were meant for this job. If it can’t be Bobby, you’re the only other logical option. But I… I’m not happy here anymore. I don’t think I have been for a long time and I think I- I need a fresh start.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then she smiles softly at him. “If you need help,” she says, “pointers, tips, anything, you can ask me. I just went through the process a few months ago, Buck, I’m sure it hasn’t changed much in that time.”

He accepts the help, but they don’t have much more time to talk before they get a call.

He’s not sure how Chimney finds out, or who tells Eddie, but Eddie never says anything about him going for captain.

Chimney does. Chomping his gum, asking Buck what he’s thinking by leaving their family.

He means well, so Buck doesn’t tell him it stopped feeling like a family a long time ago.

He makes it to the final part of the process. Remembers Hen’s advice. Answers the questions the way he thinks Bobby would.

He passes.

He feels his body relax for the first time in weeks.

“Congratulations, Captain Buckley,” Chief Simpson says as he shakes his hand. “I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

*****

He swears he sees God when he comes on Tommy’s cock that night. He can’t help it when Tommy has traded out his usual pet names for “Captain” and “Sir” and “Boss.” Keeps asking him for advice, whispering in his ear, “Am I doing this right, Captain Buckley?”

Chief Simpson calls a week later. It’s sooner than Buck expects.

There’s a captain retiring at Station 13 in six weeks. Buck could start now, train under him, take over as captain of B-shift once those six weeks are up.

Buck accepts without hesitation.

Three days later, they throw him a party at the 118. Tommy comes, Chris comes, Maddie brings the kids, Athena makes an appearance between calls.

When he walks out at the end of his shift, he doesn’t look back.

He starts at Station 13 two days later.

Captain Fredericks isn’t a bad man. He’s a good captain, and treats his team with respect, but there’s little camaraderie between them. When they aren’t on a call, they’re all doing their own thing. The station is quiet most of the time. And when Buck tries to chat with the rest of the team, he’s often met with what he can only describe as “polite resistance.”

Each week, Fredericks takes an extra step back and gives Buck a little more to do. By the end of the six weeks, Fredericks has taken on a mostly silent role in their partnership.

He feels confident as he starts his first week on his own.

It lasts a total of one hour and thirty-two minutes.

Jacobson, who wasn’t an issue for the entire six weeks, manages to undermine Buck multiple times on a single call.

The rest of the day doesn’t go much better.

He overhears Jacobson making jokes about him, and mocking his stutter.

When he makes a meal for everyone that evening, they grab a plate, scoop their food, and go into their own corners to sit and stare at their phones while they eat.

On their last call, instead of having Jacobson rappel down to get a hiker that fell thirty feet off the side of a cliff, he just does it himself. He ends up with a banged up knee, and multiple scratches that bleed for longer than he’d like to admit.

Tommy draws him a bath when he gets home. Puts medicine on the scratches. Rubs his feet and legs. Holds Buck as he cries himself to sleep. The next morning, when they wake up all tangled together, Tommy tells him about Bobby and Sal. It’s a story Buck has heard before, but it helped to hear it again. Especially now.

During his next shift, when he hears Jacobson mutter “weasel” under his breath after Buck gives him an order, Buck stands tall, looks him dead in the eyes, and tells him to repeat what he just said.

Jacobson does.

Buck asks if they have a problem.

Jacobson reminds him that he’s forty years old, and Buck hasn’t even made it to thirty-five yet. How the hell is he supposed to respect him?

“Respect is earned,” Buck tells him. “You don’t know me enough to respect me, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m your captain now so, while you may not respect me, you do have to respect my authority. If you can’t do that, I’d suggest transferring to another station before you lose your job.”

That seems to quiet him for the rest of the day.

Jacobson puts in a transfer request three days later.

Four days after that, another transfer request hits his desk.

But this one is someone asking to transfer to his station.

Ravi Panikkar.

With Jacobson gone, and Ravi filling his spot, Buck starts to feel settled again.

The rest of his team are good people.

There’s Abarca, who is young and full of both spunk and anxiety. She’s nineteen years old and Buck is pretty sure she’s been on her own for longer than she could drive.

Smith and Smith, not related, are both paramedics. Barry Smith, who goes by Smith, has been at 13 for twenty years. Victor Smith, who also goes by Smith, changed careers two years ago. Went from working as a manager in a grocery store to graduating top of his class and getting his choice of station.

Buck thought having two Smith’s would be confusing, but they guaranteed him that they would know who he was talking to as soon as he called for them.

They haven’t been wrong yet.

And then there’s Carmen, who judges everyone, and Buck loves her for it. Her facial expressions alone can shut up even the most annoying humans. It also helps that her wife is a baker, and she gives Carmen anything she has left over to bring to the station.

One day Carmen’s wife comes in herself, and Buck introduces himself to Shiela. He asks her how she makes her eclairs? He’s been trying to get that right for a long time now and the texture always feels off.

This becomes a thirty minute conversation that ends in Shiela inviting Buck and Tommy over for dinner and a dessert class.

Tommy and Carmen have a great time watching and being taste testers.

They make it a regular thing.

Buck invites the team over for a barbecue after a couple of months. He invites the 118 too. It’s nice having everyone together. They have a good time.

That night, when he and Tommy are in bed, Tommy is peppering kisses down his chest. “You know,” he says, nibbling at Buck’s skin before soothing the spot with his tongue, “I see the way your team looks at you. They look up to you already.”

“I don’t, mmm, I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Tommy insists, kissing him just above his belly button. “I’m so proud of you.”

And if tears leak from his eyes as Tommy takes him in his mouth, well, they’re happy tears now.

Buck keeps cooking dinners every shift. While Ravi has taken a seat beside him from the start, he calls attention to the others when they start to walk away with their plates.

“Everyone, I- I’d like for us to all sit at the table today,” he says, clearing his throat when they all give him a confused look. “Actually, I- I’d like for us to, um, to sit at the table every day, for dinner. My old captain, he- he used to always have family dinners for us. We sit together, eat together, talk about stuff. I- I want us to do that too.”

There’s a few more seconds of stares, then slowly they start to make their way to the table.

“Family dinners?” Abarca questions.

“Family dinners,” Buck confirms.

She shrugs her shoulders. “That sounds cool.”

The others nod, take their seats, and begin to eat.

It’s here, in this moment, with these people, that Buck realizes Bobby was right.

He is going to be okay.

And he found the people who need him.

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hi main system 👋. I wanted to ask if you could to invincible variants reaction to reader having a crazy stalker that's just started following her to their home (the stalker just first been writing scary letters to her ) . Stalker ain't even gonna make it an hour but I'd like to see what they're do to the stalker .

Trigger Warnings: violence, gore

It started with notes. Red ink on white sheets, likely torn notebook pages, folded in half and left on the table you considered your spot at the coffee shop. It was just a mild crush. Probably a fellow cafe patron who thought you were cute.

They were relatively harmless, even a tad bit flattering, if you were being honest. 

“You look pretty today.”

“Your blouse brings out your eyes.”

“We ordered the same thing today :)”

Then they got longer. Weirder. Your secret admirer upgraded from scratch paper to scented letters.

“You smell nice. Did you change your perfume? Maybe your shampoo? You seem like a put together girl, I’m sure you use the good, fancy stuff. It would be nice if you told me what products you used. Then it would be like we’re together, always.”

“I noticed you came here with some girl friends. They are lovely, but no one can compare to your beauty. You will always be the most gorgeous thing in my eyes. Your face, your hair, your curves. I love every part of you. I promise never to look at anyone else but you.”

Then they outright terrified you.

“Dear angel of the coffee shop,

Who was that man that came with you last Sunday? 

You two sat so close to each other I felt jealous just watching.

Is that your type of man? 

I didn’t think you would be so shallow. Is it because he’s six feet? Is your gender really that obsessed with height? 

Maybe it’s because he’s built like an athlete? You know he will leave you when someone prettier and younger comes along.

I will never treat you like that. I will love you even if someone better wants me.

I also noticed that you haven’t been coming to the cafe as frequently as before. You used to come here every Monday through Wednesday and sometimes during Saturday. I know it can’t be because you’re avoiding me. That’s impossible, because I already told you how much you mean to me. You would be one giant BITCH if you were avoiding me.

I stayed away because I was too shy, but maybe it’s time for us to officially meet.

If you refuse to come to me then I will have to come to you.”

He would resist the instinct to dispatch the man immediately, because he could see you shaking from the corner of his eyes. So he knocks the stalker unconscious first and has his people imprison him, with strict orders to keep him alive and isolated. His priority is you. He apologizes over and over and holds you in his arms until you fall asleep from crying. Mark is struck by guilt all at once. He should’ve taken those “love letters” seriously. But he was too arrogant, believed that when your admirer saw you with him just once then he would back off. 

After tucking you in and kissing your forehead he finally confronts the one responsible for all your tears. The man is too weak and too pathetic to serve as breeding stock for the Empire, and death would be too merciful. So Mark chooses the only logical option. He gauges the eyes that dare gaze upon you, tears off the hands that tried to touch you, shatters the legs that ran after you. Mark breaks the stalker methodically, until he begs to be killed.

flaxan, target, VILTRUMITE

Mark is furious. Not at you, never at you. But at this insect that threatened your safety. He hated how upset you were about the letters. He saw enough of human society to know that the madness was not going to stop at letters. He told you as such, so he had you go to the police, and that was why he accompanied you every time you left the house. But you were too selfless for your own good; you didn’t want to wake him up from his nap so you decided to go buy ice cream alone. He woke up groggy, but heard your screaming from the front door. He moved instantly and now, he held your stalker by the throat.

Voice taut but not raised, he tells you to get inside. You’re too afraid to protest so you run back into the house. 

When he hears the front door close with a click, he shoots up into the sky, the attacker still in his grasp. This Mark isn’t especially bloodthirsty. He sees torture as a tool for interrogation, but unnecessary otherwise. Face devoid of emotion, he clenches his fist and the man in his hand goes limp instantly. He then throws the corpse in the nearest volcano before flying back to you.

He finds you sobbing in the bed and the ice melts off his body. He joins you under the covers and promises that no one will bother you again.

FULL MASK, maskless, OMNI-MARK, prisoner 

His usual swagger is gone. There is no trace of a smile to be found on his face when he stands between your trembling form and the bastard that broke into your house. Mark glares at him. Then you tug his shirt and he takes a deep breath and forces himself to smile as he talks to you, “Go lock yourself in our room, I’ll handle this.”

But you shake your head against his back. Your muffled voice tells him you don’t want to be alone.

He sighs, but he’s not annoyed. He reaches behind him and gives your thigh a squeeze. “Okay. When I give the signal, cover your ears and don’t look.”

He turns his attention back at your stalker, who is glaring back at him, spouting crap about you belonging to him and that Mark is a fuckboy who doesn’t deserve you. That hits a nerve in your husband and he lifts his knee.

“Now, angel.”

With a single strike, the man’s brain and blood splatter on the walls and the floor.

When Mark realizes what he has done he swears under his breath and gently turns around so he could lift you up and carry you to the living room. “I should’ve done it more cleanly,” he says, wiping your tears away, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll clean it up.”

You let out a laugh and bury your nose in his chest. Protective arms cover your shoulders as Mark kisses the top of your head. He holds you like he’s afraid that you would disappear. He hates to say it but that asshole was right, you deserve everything. He should’ve been better. Should’ve done more.

head cap, mohawk, SHIESTY

Unlike the aforementioned variants, he didn’t wait for the harassment to escalate. When he identified the man who had been sending you those sickening notes, Mark wasted no time in grabbing him when no one was looking. Brought the sicko to an abandoned cabin deep, deep, deep in the woods somewhere on the other side of the world. Mark doesn’t like being away from you for too long, so he tries to work fast. 

Mark tries to act cool when he plays with his newest victim. But the fucker keeps calling you pet names and slurs, even sharing his deepest fantasies about you. So Mark rips out his tongue, then his arms and legs, and watches him bleed, all while sharing precious memories you two made together. 

sinister, no goggles

image lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

[hikato-chan]

Continuation of this (Omegaverse where Omegas can reject a bond)

Shen Qingqiu stood there, frozen, as Luo Binghe ran after apologizing. He stared at the wall, mind not comprehending any of this. The bite was bleeding, soaking into the collar of his robes and then slowly staining it further but he didn't quite notice.

Finally, he got himself to move. He should put pressure on the wound so it doesn't ruin the robes. He glanced down and almost lost all motivation again. They were already stained. The blood had spread, not so much but enough that he didn't think it was worth worrying about anymore.

Not that he could feel a lot right now. Still, he told himself as he got out a handkerchief, the wound still needed to be tended to. He pressed it onto the bite, and then stood there again, listless and lost at what to do now.

Get somewhere safe, he supposed. Somewhere that wasn't here. Get out of the alley, get onto a street. Walk.

He turned back the way he came from. He had mostly run in a straight line, which was stupid now that he was walking back and thinking about it. He should have taken more corners. Not that it would have changed the end result though.

Getting back to the weapon shop he was faced with another problem to stare at. He had gone out of the window, and the room wasn't ground level. He could jump up with his cultivation, of course, but was that an ok thing to do with the wound? He probably shouldn't jostle it that much, right? Did that count for a cultivator?

He could go through a door he supposed. Though he wanted to immediately disregard the thought. Someone might notice him walking in. He wasn't even really thinking about why that would be bad beyond the strong impulse not to be seen like this.

But what else should he do? Maybe there was a back entrance? There had to be, this was a weapon shop. There was probably a forge around he hadn't noticed yet.

Still that answer didn't feel acceptable neither, and he wasn't sure how long he stood there waiting for a better solution to arrive before steps became noticable from the side and he froze.

Mu Qingfang had smelled the blood, even in a disease ridden city like this, and had gone out to see who wasn't coming in for his help. Instead of a patient though, he found his shixiong. He didn't notice him until the doctor started making much more noise while walking, and even then, his reaction was delayed.

Shen Qingqiu turned to him, and his eyes didn't automatically focus on him for a second. The wound he was pressing on didn't seem huge, but he knew they didn't have to be. It was close enough to the neck though that he got worried. Especially with Without-a-cure messing with his healing speed. The delayed reactions worried him much more though. He had seen him injured worse and pretend everything is fine.

Something was wrong. But he wouldn't know what it was until he treated him.

"Shen-shixiong." He called out as he walked towards him at a calm pace. Hurrying might startle him in that state.

Shen Qingqiu blinked, then replied "Ah, Mu-shidi" with a mumble that was unlike him. But his eyes were focused and watching him approach. He didn't step away though when his shidi got close.

"Come" the doctor said simply, hovering a hand over his back to get him to move towards the door with him. He moved, steady but oddly absent as he was led to the door, then to his room and sat on the bed. Mu Qingfang only left shortly to get a basin of water and a small table before returning to find him sitting exactly as he was left. His eyes were clouded and unfocused again.

"I need to see the wound, Shen-shixiong. I will move your hand and the handkerchief away." He would have usually asked him to give him room to work but in the state he was in, Mu Qingfang wasn't sure he was registering the words until seconds later.

He moved the hand clutching the handkerchief and understood why he was in the state he was. There, plain as day, was a healing bite mark on his bonding gland. One that was slowly healing by the looks of it.

He understood the implication. This would need to go to the Sect leader. And, the doctor understood, he would need to do a full exam to make sure that this was the only thing that happened to him. He needed Liu Qingge back too, to investigate while Mu Qingfang did his part. For now, he removed the bloody handkerchief and started washing his shixiong's hands.

"I need you to undress so that I can bandage the wound," he said to him, " move slowly, I will help with anything that needs this shoulder.

He waited, counting the seconds, until Shen Qingqiu agreed and started fiddling with the ties. Mu Qingfang, in the meantime, turned to the side to write a quick emergency message to Liu Qingge to get him to return.

He sent it off through the window, and then turned to see Shen Qingqiu waiting for him. His first few layers were untied so he likely needed help getting the robes off.

-

I'll write the next part later.

[sweetdispatch]

Hi could I get 7 pieces of baklava with pineapple and maple syrup please

I love your writing and hope your leg heals up real soon

Lake house - M. Rempe

v' bakery pairing: Matt Rempe x fem!reader summary: You and Matt had complicated relationship but this changed when you were forced by your friends to live in the same room during a weekend in a lake house warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), oral (f receiving), fingering, swear words note: thank you so much love, it means a world to me❤️hope you like it!

Since you met Matt, you didn’t like him. No matter how hard you tried, there was something in him that was pushing you away. You tried to act normal around him but he could sense that you’re not a fan of his. He made a small joke about it but you felt offended. You threw a drink on him and left the club. 

In summer, you were stuck together because of your friends. Matt didn’t make your life easier and since that situation in a club, he was picking on you. You were always fighting back with him because you didn’t want to be seen as a poor girl who can’t defend yourself. It was your reality that you’ve been arguing with him at least once when you were going out. 

Your friend came up with a great idea to rent a lake house and go there for a weekend. Everyone instantly agreed and felt excitement. This feeling quickly disappeared from your and Matt's faces when your friends told you that you have a room together. You knew that they made it on purpose to have fun of your suffering and because they really wanted you two to work things out. 

“I can’t believe that they did it” You said when you walked into the room with Matt behind you. 

“But honestly, are you surprised?” Matt asked you and you shook your head in no gesture. 

“Not a fucking chance” You said out of blue. “There’s only one bed” All you heard was Matt’ laugh. 

“I guess we’re stuck together even in sleep” Matt told you but you only looked at him to drop it. 

“I prefer to sleep on the floor then next to you” You scoffed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. This bed is big enough for both of us. You won’t be sleeping there” Matt said and from his tone, you could tell that he wasn't joking

The first night was tough. You and Matt were colliding with each other's bodies all the time. You were sure that he’s doing this on purpose just to get you mad. After an hour you lost your patience and kicked him to wake him up. 

“What the hell?” Matt said with a raspy voice.

“Stop moving around the bed. I can feel your body on me” You told him. 

“I’m not doing anything” Matt told you and you sighed. You knew that this would be the longest three days of your life. Out of nowhere, Matt asked you. “Why don’t you like me?” 

“You’re annoying and since your dumb joke about my presence I can’t stand you” You told him truthfully. 

“I just wanted to break the ice between us” Matt said. 

“I don’t know what part of it if you won’t stop making this face, you’ll become ugly was funny for you” Matt could sense the disgust in your voice when you repeated those words. 

“I’m sorry. It was a bad call from me. My intention wasn’t to offend you, just wanted to see you smiling but I get why you’re mad” You were taken aback. You didn’t expect him to apologise to you. 

“Apology accepted but since we’re having a honest conversation, what’s your reason that you don’t like me?” You asked him curiously of his reason. 

“I honestly don’t have any reason but since you didn’t like me, I decided to match your energy” Matt laughed.

“So I was the bad one?” You giggled. “I’m sorry for it” 

“It’s fine, I deserve it” Matt said and you laughed.

The next morning, the atmosphere in your room was clean. There were no hard feelings between you and Matt. You explained everything to yourself and had a new start. Your friends were surprised when they saw both of you laughing and not arguing but none of you told them that you’re fine now. You wanted to mess with them. 

In the evening, all of you decided to sit by the bonfire and just enjoy the quiet time. To everyone's shock, you were sitting on Matt’ laps. You two were in a bubble. Two of you were drinking and laughing at all the stories. You were happy that you cleared the atmosphere with him because you noticed what a great guy he is. 

When everyone stayed outside, you and Matt got back to the room. Last 20 minutes you spent on talking about a movie that he never saw. That’s why both of you decided to get back and watch a movie. You laid comfortably in the bed and he sat next to you. During the movie, you weren’t talking much but you could feel his hand roaming your thigh. 

It would be a lie if you say that Matt wasn’t hot. He was and he had insane hands. Your focus was on them rather than on that movie and he noticed this. He squeezed your thigh lightly and you felt your cheeks burning. He was going higher with his hand until he reached the end of your shorts. 

Matt was bold in his moves. He saw the effect he has on you and wanted to see how far he can go until you stop him. You spread your legs a little bit further to give him better access and he laughed softly. His finger brushed your panties under the shorts and he could feel how wet you were. 

“Please” You whispered. “Do something” 

Movie was long forgotten. Matt positioned himself in between your legs. In a quick move, he took your shorts and panties. His fingers were brushing your clit. You moaned quietly and the next thing you felt was his tongue on your pussy. By instinct you hands went to his hair and you pushed him closer. 

Matt was eating you out like a starving man. He looked at you and saw how you threw your head from the pleasure. He smiled to himself at the view. His two fingers entered your pussy and you moaned at the sensation. He had long fingers and they perfectly were hitting your g spot. 

You felt that you’re close. Matt was the best guy who ever went down at you. Your orgasm hit you hard. You felt embarrassed by how fast you cum but he was great in what he was doing. You tried to catch your breath and looked at him. He licked his fingers clean and this made you wet again. 

“I didn’t know it’s so easy to tame you” Matt laughed and laid next to you. “All you needed was an orgasm”

“So you just did it for what? For your entertainment?” You felt used by him at that moment. You stood up and started picking up your clothes. 

“No, come back to bed, please” Matt pulled his arm to grab your wrist. “It was a joke. I’m sorry” 

“You’re insufferable” You told him and got back to the bed. 

“I like you too” Matt said and pulled you closer to his body. He kissed your cheek and you smiled. All the negative emotions you had towards him went out of the window and you started seeing him as a normal guy and not as an annoying one.

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

The Ones Who Survived

***

Jackson looked like something out of a fairy tale when you arrived — snowy rooftops, warm chimneys, laughter in the streets.

But no one told you how cold it could feel when people didn’t want you there.

Not because of who you were.

But because of where you’d come from.

The Colville camp.

That name carried weight.

People in Jackson knew it. Knew the stories.

A place ruled by fear, violence, cruelty.

A place where decent people didn't survive.

So if you had made it out of there?

People whispered that maybe you weren’t so decent after all.

They didn’t know you were a prisoner. That you’d barely escaped with your life.

They didn’t know how many nights you spent hiding in crawlspaces, how many times you thought you were going to die.

They just saw the mark of that camp on you —

and assumed it meant something dark.

It was Joel who first talked to you like a person.

Not a rumor.

You were restocking shelves in the storage barn, head down, trying not to draw attention.

He came in quiet as anything, picking through boxes.

“You’re the one who came from Colville.”

It wasn’t a question.

You stiffened, bracing for more judgment.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s me.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Then, gently: “That place was hell.”

You blinked at him, surprised.

Joel’s eyes were tired but kind. He didn’t look afraid of you.

Didn’t look like he thought you were dangerous.

“I knew someone who died tryin’ to get outta there,” he said. “He wasn’t the only one.”

You nodded slowly. Your throat felt tight.

“I almost didn’t make it either,” you whispered. “I only got out because—”

You stopped yourself. Too much. Too fast.

Joel didn’t push.

“Don’t gotta tell me,” he said. “But you don’t need to explain yourself to people here. Not to me."

You stared at him.

“Why do you care?”

Joel paused.

“’Cause I know what it’s like to have blood on your hands you didn’t ask for.”

Something unspoken passed between you in that moment.

It wasn’t friendship. Not yet.

It was understanding.

***

Days turned to weeks.

You started going on short patrols. Joel made sure you were paired with him. Said it was because you were new, needed someone experienced.

You knew better. He just didn’t trust the others to treat you right.

You didn’t talk much on the first few rides.

But Joel never made you feel like you had to.

When you did open up — late one evening while setting up camp — you told him a little about Colville.

How they’d forced you to work for them.

How you’d watched them hurt others.

How you’d kept your head down, done what you had to, even when it made you hate yourself.

Joel didn’t flinch. Didn’t judge.

He just nodded slowly, staring into the fire.

“You did what you had to do to stay alive,” he said. “That ain’t weakness. That’s survival.”

You weren’t sure when you started trusting him — but once you did, it was like something in you unlocked.

Joel was quiet. Steady. Brutally honest.

But he was kind, too. In the little ways.

Carrying extra water. Making sure you had gloves. Letting you ride ahead when the stares in Jackson got too heavy.

One night, after a long patrol, you saw it. A man muttering something cruel as you passed.

Joel stopped walking. Turned.

“What’d you just say?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

The man went pale. Mumbled an apology.

Joel didn’t respond. He just rested a hand on your back and steered you away.

You were shaking.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” Joel replied. “And I’ll do it again."

You didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, so softly he almost didn’t hear it—

“Thank you.”

Joel looked at you like it physically hurt him to see you carry this weight alone.

“You’re safe here,” he said. “And I’ll make damn sure it stays that way.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

And for the first time since arriving in Jackson, you believed it.

Not because of the town.

Because of him.

***

The snowfall was lighter now. Spring whispered through Jackson’s trees, and for the first time since you arrived, you felt like you were part of something.

Joel helped with that.

You still weren’t one of them. Not exactly. But you weren’t just the girl from Colville anymore.

People nodded at you now. Some even smiled. You’d gone on enough patrols, helped enough with the food stores.

You were building something. A new life.

And then he showed up.

His name was Micah.

You hadn’t seen his face in almost a year, but you remembered it like a brand. Sharp jaw, a scar down his right cheek, eyes cold as ice.

You’d seen him at his worst — ordering executions, smiling while people begged.

He’d been one of the top men in Colville. And now he was standing in Jackson’s main gate like he belonged.

You were in the greenhouse when you saw him.

You froze, your hands trembling above a crate of sprouting carrots.

He caught your eye. Smiled.

Your breath vanished.

Joel found you fifteen minutes later, curled up behind the tool shed, white as a sheet.

“Hey, hey—what is it?” he crouched in front of you, hands steady but voice tight. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak.

He sat beside you. Waited. Gave you time.

When you finally forced it out—when you said his name—Joel’s face changed. Hardened into something ruthless.

“He what?” Joel demanded. “He’s here?”

You nodded, staring at your dirt-covered hands. “He saw me. Smiled like—like it was some kind of joke."

Joel stood so fast it startled you. His fists clenched.

“I’m going to talk to Maria.”

“No—Joel—” You grabbed his wrist. “I don’t want trouble. If he doesn’t—”

He turned, sharp and low.

“If he breathes wrong in your direction, it’s already trouble.”

He looked you over like he was checking for bruises.

“You're okay though? Did he touch you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “But Joel—he knows things. Things about me from back then.”

Joel crouched again, calmer now. His hand cupped your cheek.

“There’s not a damn thing that man can say that’s gonna change what I know about you. Not one thing.”

Your chest cracked open at the gentleness in his voice.

That night, Jackson held a council meeting. Joel was there. So was Maria. So was Micah.

Joel stood and said: “This man comes from a camp that tortured people. The woman he tormented lives here now. He’s not staying.”

Micah tried to protest. Said you were the one with secrets.

Said you weren’t as innocent as you looked.

Joel didn’t flinch.

He said, “I’ve fought beside her. Bled beside her. She’s got more strength in one hand than you’ve got in your whole body.”

In the end, Maria made the call.

Micah was denied entry.

He left that same night, but not before finding you one last time. He waited by the edge of the fence, just outside town.

“You always were good at running,” he sneered. “Got someone else to fight your battles now?”

You didn’t answer. You just stared him down, silent and steady.

Behind you, boots crunched snow. Joel appeared at your side like a shadow.

Micah flinched.

“Leave, now.” Joel said, deadly calm, “before I decide you don’t get to.”

Micah took one last look at you, but his confidence was gone. He turned and vanished into the dark.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. Just walked you back in silence, his hand firm on your back.

When the gates shut behind you, he finally spoke.

“You’re not running anymore,” he said. “You’ve got a home. You’ve got me.”

You didn’t cry. Not then.

But later, when he wrapped his arms around you in bed, you held onto him like he was the safest thing in the world.

[darling-devil2099]

A confession under the starry sky - Elderlily (Elder Faerie x White Lily)

I love them sm aoiabzhevzoquzfoha

Anyway have some fluff my pookies ______________________________________________________________

Another day has passed, the sun was already gone hours ago, letting the moon take its place. It was a beautiful night : no clouds to hide the stars and a full moon. The brightness of it was reflecting on the water of the small pound in the Faerie Kingdom.

A faerie was standing on the bridge of that small pound, watching the night sky. He rarely has the occasion to see such a scenery.

Elder Faerie couldn’t take his eyes off of the shiny stars. He always loved them, they were mysterious and captivating. The king saw them like guardians who watch over the world and its fate. The more he kept his gaze up there, the more he thought that nothing could make him look away.

-Your majesty ?

A soft and familiar voice called. At that moment, he realized he was wrong. There was a thing that could make him turn his gaze. After all, anyone would look away from something beautiful if it means looking at something even more beautiful.

Elder Faerie’s eyes leaved the starry sky to meet hers. -White Lily ? What are you doing at this hour of the night ?

He asked, quite curious and also surprised to see his friend.

-I couldn’t find sleep... So I thought of going for a walk. What about you ?

White Lily replied, walking to him so they could stand next to each other. She liked this place, it was calm and peaceful. The faerie knows that if she isn’t around, he’ll sure find her here.

-I was simply watching the stars. The sky is clear tonight and so we can see them perfectly.

Elder Faerie replied, watching her beauty.

The ancient hero surely had no idea of how often he thinks about her. He couldn’t stop seeing her in his wildest dreams or even imagine how her lips could feel against his... He knew he shouldn’t think like that but he couldn’t fight his own feelings.

-Yeah... I always liked to watch them. I didn’t expect you to have the same hobby as me.

White Lily approved with a gentle smile. She then looked up at the sky and putted her hands on the barrier of the bridge. The king simply nodded and gazed over the stars again.

They both stayed in a comfortable silence for a while. The silver haired man, who had his hands on the bridge’s barrier too, was hesitating to move them closer to hold hers. In the end, he didn’t and decided to speak again.

-May I ask you why you can’t sleep ?

The silence that came after wasn’t really as comfortable as before. White Lily didn’t know if telling him would be a good idea...she never told anyone about this. She looked down, avoiding any eye contact.

-I’m sorry. It’s probably too personal, you don’t have to tell me...

Great... Now she felt uncomfortable. Elder Faerie would have slapped himself right now if he could. What an idiot he was to think she would say something personal.

-Don’t apologize. I do want to tell you but... I just worry about what you could think...

She then said, her eyes meeting his again. The woman knew he won’t say anything bad so why being so scared ?

-I just... I miss my friends... I mean...it’s been a while that I miss them. But being here in the Faerie Kingdom makes me feeling less lonely than before. Of course, I do sometimes still feel a bit down like tonight.

She explained. It felt good to tell this to someone.

-I understand... Being away from loved ones is painful. But I’m glad that my kingdom can offer you comfort.

Elder Faerie said, his expression soft and caring. He cared about her deeply and didn’t want to see her feeling bad. He was also here to help her feeling better.

-Thank you, your majesty. You truly helped me remember who I am and I will forever be grateful. You also are one of the rare people who listen to me and understand me... I’m lucky to have met you.

Her words were coming from the heart, that was sure. White Lily took the king’s hands in hers, was it the first time they held hands ? Maybe but she wasn’t sure.

-White Lily...

The faerie’s heart skipped a beat when their fingers intertwined. He felt quite touched by her words. They both were facing each other, the moonlight shining on their face and the stars reflecting in their eyes. The atmosphere was worthy of a romantic film.

The white haired woman’s heart was fighting against her mind. She wanted to listen to her feelings but her reason was telling her not to... What should she do ???

-Sorry... Am I killing the mood ? I mean... You were just here to watch the stars after all...

-No, not at all. I’m glad you told me that. You’re not alone, Lily. There’s people who loves you, never forget that. I’m sure you’ll see your friends again soon.

White Lily blushed, she knew Elder Faerie was including himself in these people. He didn’t have to say it. Her expression was more peaceful, like she was relieved from some sort of weight. She moved a bit closer, her hands moving up to rest on his shoulders.

Everything happened quickly after. Their faces got closer, a tension clearly building up. They looked into each other’s eyes again and before they realized, there was no space between their lips anymore. It was a gentle and quick kiss but it meant a lot for both of them. The silver haired man thought it was a dream, even after the contact.

It was the loving look on the ancient hero and her words who made him realize that he wasn’t dreaming.

-And I love you. I love you more than anything else.

These words meant so much right now... Elder Faerie smiled back at her, his shocked look fading away.

-I love you too. You mean the world to me, White Lily.

They both were smiling like young teens in love but who cares. White Lily had confessed to the man she was in love with and he reciprocate her feelings. That was the first time someone loved her like this and she really liked that. Another kiss then came up, this time it was the faerie who initiated it. It was still gentle but this one was a little longer than the first one. The ancient hero wanted this moment to never end.

It was truly a perfect moment...them kissing under the stars, on this bridge, over the small pound...

And now Elder Faerie knew, her lips were sweet and almost tasted like honey.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: break-up, angst, hung-up yandere, anger issues, insecurity, threats to regrets

♡ GN reader

Thinking about pro-athlete ex-boyfriend… 

You know, the one you broke up with because he couldn't focus on anything but his career, the one you just couldn’t stand by and watch any longer as he nearly ran his health into the ground—not to mention your relationship—all to reach his goals.

He’d been so mean—meaner than you ever thought possible when you told him you couldn’t do this anymore—said it was a real class act of you to abandon him now when it mattered most. He’d made it about you not wanting a pipe-dreaming wannabe sportsman for a boyfriend, how you never believed in him anyway, how you never cheered for him, how he thinks you don’t even want to see him succeed. 

He’d been so loud and so ugly you’d been in shock for weeks afterward, unable to wrap your head around it. You didn’t even dare tell anyone—feeling it was a beast of burden you ought to keep for yourself. Oddly enough, you felt that if anyone knew or saw him like that, it would be not just detrimental to him and his image but embarrassing for you both.

And you hadn't spoken to him since. At least not face-to-face. He’d sent you a few drunk texts then and there, which you’d replied to in short, though mostly ignored. You’d thought about blocking him at one point, but you didn’t want to be dramatic, either. And suppose, in some way, you were still waiting for an apology.

But months passed, and nothing like it ever came, and so, instead of being bitter, you accepted that was just how the two of you ended. And that was that. 

Still, it's a little awkward. You wonder if you should congratulate him on his rise in popularity, how he’s finally getting all those long hours spent training back in full—but somehow, you feel it would just sound petty coming from you. And so, you don’t bother.

He’s got other people in his life cheering him on now—he doesn’t need a measly text from his ex. No, it's better to leave it be, is what you think.

Which is why it’s surprising when you get the dinner invitation. 

And following the initial surprise, you don’t really know what to expect of it either. But you end up accepting—some part out of curiosity, wondering what he might want after all this time, and another part hopeful it was to finally address the awful break up so that the both of you could move on without it hanging heavy over your heads and hearts.

This, however, was the last thing you had in mind when sitting down with him for the first time in a long time.

“Will you marry me?”

Your whole body flares up with something reminiscent of the feeling when you trip and fall—that type of split burn that rushes through you from head to toe and then leaves you feeling cold all over. Heart in your throat, you’re speechless.

Or no, you just don’t know where to begin.

“What are you doing?” you end up accusing—a little too harshly, maybe, but who could blame you? Looking around, you’re glad your table’s in a more private sector of the restaurant before you look back at him, eyes wide and brows knit. 

“I–we broke up a year ago and haven’t seen each other since—and you’re—” Your eyes fall back to the thing in his hands. It’s an outrageous ring. “Asking me to marry you?”

He makes no move to withdraw the offer—keeping his hands where they are, on your side of the table. “You said yes to the dinner. That must mean something. I thought—”

“Yeah. It means that I still worry about you,” you say. “It doesn't mean–”

“I fought my way up. I’m finally at the top,” he cuts you off in earnest. “I’m the best, and the world finally knows it now–”

“I don't care about any of that,” you state, feeling it should have been something you told him from the very beginning. “I'm sorry. But I never cared about you being the best. I just wanted…”

You just wanted the two of you to be like other couples—together and happy. You just wanted that to be enough, but it never was for him.

“Never mind…” you end up saying. “I think I should go.”

You’re about to get up when his hand, suddenly around your wrist, tightens in a harsh grip.

“I don't think you understand,” he utters, voice lowered with a hint of a growl. “It’s either this ring or I bury you in rumors that won’t leave you a moment’s worth of peace.” 

You go stiff while looking back at him.

Did he just… did he just threaten you?

You blink. He's got that same warped expression you remember from the last time you saw him, that very odd look as if the guy you know has been switched out with someone entirely different.

Only this time, it just as quickly disappears, and he lets go of your wrist, quickly pulling his hand to himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–I’m just—” he apologizes with a stutter, looking startled.

He puts his face in his hands. Then there's a sound—close to a sob.

“I’m just a mess without you.”

Goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin when hearing it. And swallowing thickly, you sit back down again, albeit a bit begrudgingly. But spotting how he trembles, you just can’t stop feeling sorry for him.

You sigh. “No, you’re not. You just…” Reaching across the table, you stroke his arm. “You just lose your head a little sometimes, that’s all.” 

He peaks up from his hands. A sheen under his eyes reflects the ceiling light, and your heart twists in your chest.

He really is a mess.

“But I know you…” you try smiling. “You were always destined for greatness.”

He takes your offered hand in his, stroking it, then sniffs, voice fluttering weakly, “Yeah, well…”

He keeps his head low, resting it in his other hand as if he just couldn't muster the strength to sit straight or even attempt to pull himself together.

“If I'm so great, why wouldn’t you stay?”

He sounds as if he’s been holding things back for the entirety of the year since you left. Broken now... it's all spilling out.

“Because," you start, even though your throat’s tight and you’re fighting back tears of your own, your mind hasn’t changed.

You didn’t come here to get back together. 

"You want to go places, I just can’t follow.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Isagi, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Karasu, Shido ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[salemwasnteverhere]

How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

NO

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

[beloveds-embrace]

part two of dukedom!141 . please dont ask why johnny and simon aren't in it and why itss end is so abrupt bc tumblr fucked me over twice while trying to save it 😭😭

You could have never expected this. When you had come to your darling husband with your request, you hadn’t known what to expect at all. But you could have never expected this.

“Are you awake, my Duchess?”

My Duchess. Such a simple thing, even used before, but now it rang so differently in your ears. You don’t want to turn around and face John, but he doesn’t give you the choice.

The hands on your waist, on the hand-shaped bruises lining your hips, gently turn you around on the bed so that your bare chest is pressed against John’s. You believe the quilts on top of the both of you are unnecessary, because you, yourself, are already running hotter than a furnace and you wonder if he feels it.

“John…”

“My Duchess.” He sighs again, leaning down to kiss your neck, the soft skin littered with hickeys. Distantly, you make note of the fact that you are clean and wearing fresh undergarments, as is John. He must have cleaned the both of you after last night…

Last night. Just thinking about it is making you feel even warmer, burying your face in John’s broad shoulders even as he hums and continues to trail kisses up your jaw.

How were you supposed to know that your husband is one, big, jealous bastard who is simply too good at hiding it?

“…I feel as if there has been a misunderstanding, darling,” John had said to you, after Kyle had silently dismissed himself and John had rounded the table to kneel in front of your shocked self. Taking your hands in his, he had stared at you with his full attention. “You have been unsatisfied, and I failed to see it. I apologize, wife.”

“John, what-“

“I feel as if I’ve failed you in general, truthfully,”

“You haven’t! John-“

He kisses the back of your hands, and that silences you. “Wife, have I ever made you feel as if I would not honor your wants and needs?” This time, he waits for you to reply and it takes you a second, blinking down at him.

“…no.”

John’s face twists just so slightly, though you still can’t understand what he’s feeling or thinking. “Then, have I ever made you feel as if I would withhold anything from you?”

“…no, John.”

“Then why go to Graves?” John’s voice lowers to a grumble, his brows furrowing. Such an expression isn’t one you are so used to seeing on him, and you dislike it.

His question makes you pause, biting your lips. You want to close your eyes, ignore the warmth in your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from him for long before you are sighing softly.

“I feel so… bereft, John.” You admit softly, squeezing his hands back. “Bereft of love. You treat me so well, all of you do, but it’s just-… I want to feel love, John.”

John observes you for a little longer, then he speaks. “And you believe Graves loves you?”

“…no.” Though it hurt to admit, you were never one to lie or blind yourself. “He doesn’t, even if he says he can. But he is willing to give me affection and that is far more than I could ever possibly ask of you, John.”

You could tell that Graves saw you simply as an ends to a means he never thought he’d have the opportunity to have. But you were desperate, and you didn’t want to bother John, or cause a controversy that couldn’t be easily hidden. You wanted affection, love, fake as it may be.

The way he viewed you was nothing new to you, of course. You were a tool from the moment you were born; a glorified breeding stock, just one fortunate enough to be born rich. You weren’t meant to be anything more than that but here, you had it all. Almost. What little else you lacked you were sure Graves could give, even if you wished it was-

“But it’s not.”

Eyes widening, you look at him and wait for him to elaborate, thoughts drifting away.

“It’s not far more than you could ask of me, wife.” John tells you. He moves your hands open, kissing your palms. “I understand how you see it now. Did you truly believe that I don’t love you? That Kyle, Johnny, and Simon don’t love you?”

On top of your wide eyes, your jaw now slackens, staring at him in silence. But he is truthful; that much you can easily tell.

“Duchess, you are my Duchess.” John breathes out, now pecking the ring adorning your ring finger. “My wife. I adore you far more than that fool could ever hope to adore you. Had I known this was how you felt, I would have fixed it in a heartbeat so much sooner.”

“What do you mean-“ because surely he doesn’t mean that. Surely he doesn’t mean what you think he means, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to even hope for. No, no, you are misunderstanding it-

“Duchess,” John sighs your name so fondly it leaves you breathless, left stunned in front of him. “If it’s love you want, I will give it to you. If it’s affection and intimacy you want, I will give it to you. Not just me- all of us, my Duchess. But should you still truly want Graves,” and here, John’s face twitches again though this time you can see that it practically pains him to say the words. “Then I will personally make sure no matter what happens, he will not hurt you or besmirch your reputation.”

Silnce follows his words as he waits for you. Your hands are now trembling in his grasp, stomach twisting painfully. You don’t dare to hope, to reach out even if he’s offering what you want and more on a silver platter.

“John…” you whisper out, afraid that speaking any louder will shatter this moment. “John. Do you- do you truly mean it? Please, John-“

“I do, I do. I always will.” He says, again and again and again, hands cupping your face now so you can see the absolute truth in his eyes. At last, he stands up. John doesn’t give you a moment to think before he is scooping you into his embrace, a wicked grin now on his face.

“Now,” he practically purrs, squeezing you close to the hard muscles of his body. Your cheeks are warm anew, unable to look away from your husband. “My wife said she is unsatisfied, no? I ought to fix that, don’t you agree, Duchess?”

“O- oh, but you work-“

“Wife comes first, of course. And perhaps we can consider talking about the little baby name list you’ve been hiding, my dear.”

“John!”

"I have so many meetings today," John groans softly, one hand raising your chin so he can kiss you once, and then twice afterwards. He leans down, burying his face right between your breasts, and after a few seconds of contemplation you begin scratching your nails across his scalp ever so lightly.

The sound he lets out alone is enough to reignite heat in your belly. To think such a handsome man now is yours... several handsome men...

"So many meetings," John repeats with a sigh, his beard pleasantly tickling your skin. Big, warm hands slide down your waist, caressing where your thighs meet your ass, squeezing the soft plush. "I won't have time for lunch today with you, my dear. But my boys will take such good care of you, promise."

You just let him caress you as he pleases; there's something so inherently admiring, devoted, in the way he touched you then and now. You feel so loved under his touch, whyever would you pull away?

Still, you do look down at him. "Are you sure they don't mind... me, John?" You can't help but ask, such a nervous and worrisome thing. John wishes you'd put yourself first just once, but they have plenty of time to show you each how much they love you.

"Yes." He replies easily, chuckling. "Darling, I'm afraid you'll have a harder time prying them off. Now up, I believe Kyle has already prepared a bath for you. He just went to get you an outfit for today. He'll be the one helping you today, if you'd let him, of course."

And oh, what a bath he's prepared for you; candles alight, rose petals delicately strewn around and in the warm, oil-scented steaming water, and Kyle's fingers crooked deep in you while he murmurs of what a lovely, perfect wife you are for them <33

dukedom au masterlist

[plutotheplum]

The First Fall of Snow

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 2!

summary: the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, breast play, masturbation, thigh riding, mentions of exhibitionism, virginity loss

wc: 7.7k

a/n: i did imagine long-haired zayne for this (like his master of fate card!) and he just gives off emperor vibes soooo

also on ao3!

The Emperor was a peculiar man. 

He was not a man who fancied company. When the years for marriage had passed, his royal advisors had grown increasingly anxious. All potential candidates were refused, princesses from far lands given profuse apologies and lavish gifts in hopes of quelling their anger after they had traveled such vast distances, only for the Emperor to turn them away. 

In an effort to try and draw out the Emperor’s romantic and sexual nature, several concubines were gathered. The Emperor had never overseen this, the affair carried out in veiled whispers as his advisors had sought to dispel their desperation by pooling their efforts into securing an heir for the dynasty. 

That was what you were told when you arrived in the palace anyways. It had been a year since you were hand-picked as a concubine, along with a few other girls who had been eager to accept when the opportunity had been provided to them.

You had only met the Emperor a handful of times, when you first been brought to the palace and during private meetings that had been scheduled. He had never touched you or any of the other girls, had never sought after pleasure or secured an heir, much to the chagrin of Imperial staff. Like any other person, you thought it was odd. 

Part of you felt as though you were wasting away in this palace, days spent outside by the pretty gardens and overlooking the fish in the ponds, entertaining stray cats or inside, like you were now.

You stare down at the steaming water in the teapot, watching as the tea leaves stain the water. The blurry reflection of your face looks back up at you and there’s a soft sigh escaping you, wondering what might’ve been if you hadn’t been chosen.

Such thoughts are lost when a short, stout man comes hobbling in. He grabs at your arm, teacup filled with hot tea tipping to the side. You wince when the hot liquid lands against your skin, burning you.

“The Emperor needs tea,” the eunuch hisses, pulling another set of teaware from the shelves as he tugs you closer.

“Why does that involve me?,” you ask, trying to free yourself so you can soothe your irritated skin under cool water.

“You will deliver it to him,” he says, fiddling with your robes and straightening out the fabric to make you look more presentable.

“Have another one of the girls-” you begin to complain, shrinking away when he sends you a glare.

You huff out a breath, making sure the pin in your hair is in place. There’s no time to tend to the burn on your forearm, the reddened skin hidden by the sleeves of your robes as the eunuch passes you the tray. 

Sending him a glare of your own, you don’t stay behind to be chastised. Feet padding against the floor, you pass through the courtyard and hallway. Imperial guards stand outside the Emperor’s quarters and you bow your head, stating your business. 

One of the guards opens the doors and you suck in a sharp breath, gathering your confidence as you step inside the Emperor’s quarters. 

It’s a familiar place. The room is large, scrolls stacked upon shelves tucked against the walls, decorative screens partitioning the entrance to where his bed was placed. You swallow nervously, eyes blinking about. You can’t seem to find the Emperor. Deciding to step forward, you’re pushing your luck, sticking your head outside the open doors at the other end of his quarters. It opens into a private courtyard, greenery pruned to perfection.

There’s a frown pulling at your lips when you can’t see him. Perhaps he had left? Just as you’re about to give up, a man clears his throat. You jolt in place, tea sloshing as you struggle to keep a hold on the tray. Whirling around, you find the Emperor standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. There’s a curse entering your mind, placing the tea tray down on a table nearby before your knees are bending, meeting the floor as you bow in a seated position.

“Please forgive me, your majesty” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut. 

You would rather not feel the wrath of the Emperor.

“I did not ask for tea,” he says bluntly.

“The- the eunuch insisted,” you supply lamely.

The Emperor only sighs and your eyes are peeking open, head tilting slightly as you try to get a glimpse of his expression. 

“You may stand,” he murmurs, waving his hand. You do as he says, stumbling to your feet, teeth gritting together when the cloth of your robes rubs against the still fresh burn on your forearm.

He takes a seat on a cushioned mat and you’re standing awkwardly, trying to taper down your fidgeting as the pain flares up again.

“Is something the matter?” the Emperor asks when he sees your inability to stand still. 

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. The Emperor only stares at you, unimpressed. His gaze drags over you and your cheeks are flushing in embarrassment. 

“Sit,” he says suddenly, pointing to the space across from him.

“I-” you begin to refuse, restless to get out of this stifling place and tend to the burn that was currently beginning to sting.

“Sit, or will you refuse an Imperial command?”

To refuse an Imperial command is to forfeit one’s life. It’s why you’re sitting down in a flurry and looking everywhere at everything except him. 

“Arm,” he murmurs, holding his hand out.

You extend your arm towards his hand without question. He hums when he brushes the sleeves away, moving your arm closer to his eyes so he can examine the burn. The Emperor’s lithe fingers prod at the edges of your reddened skin, and a whimper slips out of you, the tender skin sensitive.

He pulls away from you and your eyes are darting towards the doors, wondering whether it would be worth it to make a break for it. The Emperor returns soon after, a small pot in his hand, containing some sort of salve.

“Your majesty, it is beneath you to tend to such a matter,” you remind him, feeling his cool fingers wrap around your arm again.

“Perhaps so, but I happen to take interest in the ailments of the body,” he replies, spreading the salve against your skin.

So the rumors were true then. Many spoke of the Emperor’s affinity for the study of medicine. You had assumed he would’ve taken more interest in other pursuits such as hunting, but it appeared the Emperor valued intellect above all else. 

As the salve soothes your skin, you find your gaze slipping over him. Pale skin, intelligent eyes framed by dark eyelashes, a strong nose and long hair tied back neatly, there was no doubt that the Emperor was a handsome man. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, his own gaze dipping over you once again. You feel as though you’re being scrutinized, so you’re sitting up straighter, trying to not present yourself as a mess.

“He sent you here to entice me,” the Emperor explains, beginning to wrap your wound using a thin, silken cloth.

“Oh. Is- is it working?” you ask tentatively.

“If you consider making a fool of yourself enticing, then maybe so,” he says, the side of his mouth curling up as amusement flashes through his eyes.

There’s a sharp scoff leaving you, arm tugging free from his grasp. The bandages are tight around your arm and you send him a frown, placing your hands in your lap.

“You take liberties that others do not,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I apologize, your majesty,” you whisper, head hanging low. He was right, you were taking liberties. 

“Zayne,” he says, opening a scroll.

“Your- your majesty?” you reply, confusion flitting across your face.

“Zayne,” he repeats, not bothering to even spare you a glance “you may address me by my name.”

You hold your tongue in return, eyes narrowing as you stare at the Emperor. It must be a trick of some sort, you think, a ploy to make you slip up, and just like the traitors of the Empire, your head would be severed from your neck. 

“You would distrust my own command?” he asks, sensing your hesitation. “I never said such a thing!” you protest, exasperation spreading across your face.

Sitting in place, you pout to yourself, tracing random shapes onto the cushioned mat. Zayne ignores your presence and it has you fidgeting even more, a huff of air leaving you. 

The Emperor only continues to read the scroll in his hands. Pouring out some tea, you decide to indulge yourself. Your face contorts when you taste the now lukewarm liquid. It’s hardly enjoyable. Letting out another deep sigh, your body sags. There’s nothing for you to do here, the Emperor won’t carry a conversation and you only find that you’re making a fool of yourself even more.

“Shall I leave?” you ask him, feeling hopeful that you might be able to escape.

Zayne shakes his head. 

“Stay a little while. It would do good for my advisors to think they have succeeded.”

“Succeeded?” you echo, brows furrowing.

“They expect an heir,” he sighs, setting down the scroll to give you his full attention, “surely you are aware of my… aversion to the entire matter.”

“I cannot say I understand,” you murmur, “you need an heir, and an illegitimate heir is an heir nonetheless.”

“The duty will be fulfilled when I am ready,” he says firmly.

Your head tilts at that, eyes narrowing. When he was ready? There would be no reason for the Emperor to not be ready.

“Other noblemen take pleasure in using women’s bodies,” you mutter, peering over at him, “it is strange that you have not yet touched any one of us.”

“You wish for me to use you?” Zayne asks, raising his brows. 

“N- no! I just meant, it is odd that an Emperor whose rule has granted him anything he may possibly desire chooses not to engage in anything,” the words come out of you in a rush, your cheeks flushing. 

“And have you engaged in anything?” he shoots back, his eyes sharp.

Admitting your own virginity wasn’t on your plan of things to do today. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, eyes averted to the side. Your silence is answer enough, and Zayne sighs, his fingers rubbing at his temples.

“I did not ask for concubines,” he says quietly, “and so, I do not expect you to serve me in such a fashion.”

“You may leave,” he says after a few moments, standing up with you.

Your head tilts, teeth worrying into your lower lip as he stares down at you.

“It appears you care for me,” he murmurs, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart flutters at the unexpected action, eyes widening when he touches you.

“Only for the dynasty,” you breathe out.

Zayne lets out a low laugh at that. He gives you a faint smile and your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look so ethereal, but such is the favor of the gods.

It’s probably why you’re leaning forward, hands reaching to fix the crumpled collar of his silk robes. He stiffens under your touch and you pretend as though you don’t notice. Your fingers graze his skin and his hand curls around your wrist, stopping your movements.

“I shall expect you here in a week’s time,” he says.

“A week’s time,” you nod, feeling his fingers touch the cloth wrapped around your burn.

The Emperor lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin gently so he can stare into your eyes more intently. He seems lost in thought as he swipes his thumb over your chin, his head nearing until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

It’s almost too much for your racing heart. Your already half-lidded eyes are slipping shut, lips parting as you lean in closer, waiting for him to kiss you. But it never comes and your eyes flutter open to see Zayne staring down at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes. He was making a fool of you yet again. 

To preserve whatever dignity you have left, you’re pulling away, freeing yourself from his suffocating grasp. Bowing in deference, you don’t look back to see his expression, pushing past the doors as you leave his quarters.

Almost immediately, you’re met with the eunuch from earlier.

“Well?” he asks, his cheeks puffed with exertion as he tries to keep up with the pace you’ve set in an attempt to escape questioning.

“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly, looking back to see the short man totter after you.

“Nothing?” he repeats, voice laced with irritation, “not even-“ his voice lowers, mindful of the other staff working in the palace, “he did not even touch you?” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t need to know that the Emperor had indeed touched you; tended to your burn even, that you were hoping the Emperor would hold you close and kiss you, and he most certainly didn’t need to know about your little displays of insolence. 

The eunuch soon loses interest in you, grumbling curses under his breath as you retire to your own chambers shared with the other girls. It’s no secret that many of them have become bored with the Emperor’s apathetic outlook, some turning their charms to try and garner the affections of noblemen at court.

-

It’s raining the day you’re meant to meet the Emperor. 

You step inside his chambers when the guards permit you, your hands clasped in front of you.

“Your majesty” you bend at the waist, bowing.

Zayne hums in response, striding closer to you. His fingers lift your arm, undoing the gauze to uncover your injury. The salve he had applied to your skin had soothed the burn, and it had begun to heal nicely. 

“I told you to address me by my name,” he reminds you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he examines your skin, “must I remind you again, or will phrasing it as an Imperial command suffice?”

Your mouth opens automatically to retort sharply. He looks at you, brows raised. Spending more time in his presence has only vexed you, irritation making you almost forget who you were with. Mouth clamping shut, you send him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Forgive me,” you say begrudgingly, “Zayne.”

“Better,” he murmurs.

You don’t know whether he’s referring to your obedience or the state of your wound. 

“It will scar,” Zayne continues, turning your arm so that he can see your skin in better light.

“Badly?” you ask, a frown tugging at your lips.

“More salve will lessen the effect,” he says, finally letting go of your arm.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The Emperor stares at you, his gaze unwavering. It has you wishing that you hadn’t listened to his request at all. The palace physician would have more than likely provided you with the necessary treatment, and yet here you were, being tended to by the Emperor of all people.

“Do you wish for me to repay you?” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Did we not already have this conversation?” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I had assumed-”

“Do not assume anything.”

Zayne’s voice has hardened, the slight softness in his eyes no longer present. You’ve overstepped. He pulls away from you, turning his back to you as he walks towards the open doors of his quarters. Rain wets the inside, the mats on the floor darkening but the Emperor doesn’t seem to care.

Feeling like a scolded child, you trail after him.

“Forgive me,” you whisper, keeping your gaze trained on the floor.

It seems to be all that you’re doing now. Apology after apology after apology. It’s a miracle you haven’t yet been executed for your impertinence. 

He turns to face you, his hand lifting. For a moment you think he’s about to slap you, a grimace settling on your face as you await the stinging punishment. Instead, all you feel is his hand on your head, petting you like you were some sort of unruly cat.

Zayne’s fingers begin to slip and you can feel the soft tips of his fingers graze the side of your face, traveling lower as he traces your jawline. You hold still, eyes wide with anticipation. He doesn’t stop, his fingers dragging down the length of your neck, parting your robes until you feel his fingers swipe across your collarbone. 

“You are stubborn,” he says softly, “steadfast and oddly endearing. Perhaps I should keep you by my side.”

You stare up at him, jaw slackening, baffled. 

“I thought you would appreciate it,” he murmurs, the sharpness in his eyes returning, “just moments ago you were offering yourself to me.”

It’s a struggle to bite back the whimper that so eagerly wants to escape when his fingers drag lower, skimming across the soft skin of the tops of your breasts. His other hand plays with the knot tied at the side, nimble fingers untying the only thing keeping your robes together. The soft fabric slips from your shoulders and you find yourself in front of the Emperor, breasts bared.

He lets out a low hum, both of his hands coming to cup your breasts. Your teeth have been biting into your lip so hard that you can taste the tang of blood on your tongue. Zayne swipes his thumbs over your nipples and you find yourself unable to rip free from his wandering touch. 

“Should you not tell me to stop?” the Emperor asks, his face nearing yours.

There’s no will left in you to answer, a sharp gasp escaping you when he pinches your nipples to punctuate his question. The sensation only adds to the wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper, the desperation clear in your eyes, “please, Zayne.”

“I may have the favor of the gods, but I cannot foresee your desires,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “tell me. What is it you want?”

“Kiss,” you manage out, “kiss me, please.”

The Emperor’s hands haven’t stopped their exploration, squeezing and groping at your breasts. Zayne lowers his head, forehead pressing against yours as you mewl and whimper under the onslaught of his caressing touches. The ache between your thighs has become unbearable with the way he plays with your nipples. He tugs and pinches, thumbs swiping over your areolas to grant you reprieve before rolling your nipples between his fingers again. 

“Wantonness has made you far more polite,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours.

It’s not a kiss, and you’re squirming in frustration with the way the Emperor is stringing you along, driving you to the edge of pleasure and yet refusing to grant you what you desire the most. 

“I- I can be even more polite,” you mumble pathetically, hands curling into his robes.

You chase after his lips, brows furrowing when he draws up to his full height, smiling down at you. Lips jutting out into a pout, you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to tug him back down so you can kiss him. It’s a futile endeavor, the Emperor only manages to evade all of your attempts to draw him into a kiss. 

“I shall look forward to it,” Zayne murmurs, his lips pressing against your forehead gently.

There’s no way to discern what exactly is going through the Emperor’s mind. He no longer continues with his lustful touches, pulling away with a final caress of your breasts as he pulls your loosened robes over your shoulders again. You can only watch with dazed eyes, frozen in place as he helps redo the knot holding your robes together, covering you up properly so that unnecessary slivers of skin aren’t showing anymore. 

“Do you do this with the others?” you ask, eyes finding his.

“Does the thought make you jealous?”

You frown at his retort, sending him a glare, “the Emperor may do as he wishes,” you grumble.

It’s hard to hide the jealousy that underlies your words. You want to be the only person he touches, to be the object of his affections. It’s a selfish desire to want the Emperor to need you only, but you can’t help yourself, envy flaring up inside of you at the thought of him touching another woman the way he touches you. 

“You are the first to elicit such a reaction from me,” Zayne says, his fingers tilting your head so he can stare into your eyes more directly.

Letting out an irritated huff, you feel irked by his subtle way of trying to please you. He doesn’t reply to your display of irritation, nudging his forehead against yours as though trying to convey his affection. 

“Go now,” he whispers, petting your hair again before he’s moving away, turning his back to you as he returns to peer out at the rain that falls outside.

You have half the mind to call him out on his behavior, but the reminder of your position is the stifling reality in which you live in. Despite his gaze elsewhere, you bow to him, turning on your heel to leave.

Thankfully, there are no lurking eunuchs to question your brief stay in the Emperor’s quarters. The palace staff don’t pay you any mind as you return to your chambers, and you explain to the other girls that you feel sick. 

The whimpers that spill from your mouth are muffled by the pillow that you’ve pressed your face into, the fingers of one hand rubbing at your clit and the other hand pinching at your nipples as you try to mimic the way the Emperor had touched you. With the image of Zayne’s face ingrained into your mind, it doesn’t take long, a soft moan escaping into the quiet of your chambers as you come apart on your fingers. 

-

You’re spying on the Emperor. 

The past year had been plenty of time to explore the palace and figure out the little passageways that weren’t well known. Perhaps you were just as bad as his advisors that were intent on prying into Zayne’s private life, but you just couldn’t help yourself. 

It’s why you’re here now, hovering outside his quarters, pretending to take great interest in the portraits that line the halls. Every now and then, your eyes flick over to where the guards stand, trying to discern whether anyone was entering or leaving his chambers. 

You almost feel pathetic for acting in such a way, but he was the only thing you could think about. Visiting the gardens had grown dull, despite the leaves turning into pretty shades of orange and red in the autumn air, thoughts of the Emperor taking root in the crevices of your mind instead. 

“My grandfather,” a deep voice breaks through your thoughts. You don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Handsome,” you mutter, taking a step closer to examine the portrait genuinely this time.

“My guards have complained about a woman hiding in the hallways,” Zayne says, his hand falling onto your shoulder. “I did not realize it was an offense to admire fine art,” you shoot back.

“There are far finer things in this palace,” he murmurs, stepping forward until you’ve been backed up against the wall.

It’s becoming more and more apparent to you that the Emperor must be suffering some sort of illness to the mind. You struggle to come up with a reason as to why his arm curls around your waist, whilst he presses himself closer. 

You try and push at his firm chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“People will see,” you whisper heatedly, eyes darting to the sides despite Zayne being so close that you can hardly see anything but him.

“So let them.”

Zayne reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. You stiffen under the sudden touch, eyes widening when his thumb brushes over your skin.

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, frowning.

“Is my mind not allowed to change?” he asks in return, head lowering until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“I am far more concerned that you have lost your mind.”

The Emperor lets out a deep chuckle and you think the air around you both has somehow grown thicker with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

“I assure you, I am still of sound mind.”

His nose brushes against yours, and you rise to meet the challenge, nose nudging against his gently. The heat of his body is intoxicating, his arm tightening around your waist as he exhales. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating the feeling of his lips against yours.

It’s not to be, not when an Imperial guard insists on interrupting your moment with the Emperor.

“Is this woman bothering you?” the guard asks, his gaze dragging over you with obvious disregard. 

The utter nerve. Eye twitching, you ready yourself to snap back but Zayne’s squeeze to your waist has you staying silent.

“She was feeling ill,” Zayne lies steadily. 

The Emperor’s mask of cool indifference slips over him easily, his lips pulled thin as he speaks to the guard. 

“I shall escort her to the physician,” the guard offers, his hand reaching for you.

Zayne pulls you out of reach before the guard can touch you, tucking you against his side.

“No need,” Zayne says, “I shall take her myself.”

You can almost hear the nervous gulp that the guard takes, his face paling at the Emperor’s stony disposition. Unfortunately, you don’t get long to revel in the satisfaction that spreads through your body when Zayne reprimands the guard. Zayne tugs you along, his hand wrapped around your wrist. It appears the Emperor knows of the passages as well, and a few twists and turns later you find yourself back in the Emperor’s quarters, having bypassed the Imperial guards.

“Did you see his face?” you snicker, looking over at Zayne.

Your smile fades when he doesn’t reply, the grip on your wrist almost painful without how firmly his hand is still holding onto you.

“Zayne? Are you-”

You nearly trip over your own feet when he suddenly pulls you closer. Zayne’s lips are slotting over yours, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you. There’s a small noise of surprise coming from you, eyes widening before they flutter shut, your body lulled into submission with the feverish kisses Zayne gives you.

He groans into your mouth and you cling to his robes, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kisses better. The Emperor might’ve been starved with the way he’s kissing you, his lips firm and insistent against yours whilst he holds you in place. 

Zayne pulls away after a while, and you’re completely and utterly dazed, chest heaving as soft pants fill the space between you both.

“Will you have me?” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek.

No man has ever spoken such words to you. Your breath catches in your throat, heart clenching uncomfortably in your chest. As the Emperor, he shouldn’t say such a thing. 

“It is beneath you to ask,” you murmur, averting your gaze.

“And yet, I am asking,” Zayne replies, his hands maneuvering your head until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.

Letting out an irritated huff, as though he had somehow inconvenienced you, you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his lips. You can’t bring yourself to say the words out loud, feeling uncharacteristically shy as you shift on the spot.

“I see.”

Zayne’s surging towards you again, lips crashing onto yours. You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as you press yourself closer. His arms are wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he ravages your mouth. His tongue is teasing your lower lip, coaxing it open. You have no choice but to obey, letting out a muffled moan when his tongue slides deeper into your mouth, his hand pulling at the pin holding your hair together. 

You squeak when he picks you up, his lips trailing burning kisses down your neck as he nudges the partition blocking his way to his bed. Zayne undoes the knot holding your robes together before long, your thighs straddling his hips as you sit perched on his lap once he sits down on his bed.

“Have you really never given yourself to anyone?” Zayne asks quietly, his fingers tracing across the soft skin of your shoulders.

You nod, body leaning forward to chase after his touch as his fingers find their way back down to your nipples, rolling the pebbled buds between the pads of his fingers.

“H- have you?” you ask, biting your lip as he presses heated kisses against your collarbone.

He shakes his head, lips drifting lower and lower, until your body twitches as his lips enclose around your nipple. A whimper leaves you, and Zayne grows bolder with his movements, sucking harshly as his tongue swirls around your nipple, flicking the little bud in his mouth.

Your hands have drifted into his hair, pulling free the band that holds his long locks together. His dark hair runs past his shoulders, the strands soft under your touch as you pull at his hair, moaning as he continues his exploration across your chest.

Zayne looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, spit-slick lips dragging across your chest to pepper kisses against your other breast, his mouth enveloping your nipple yet again. He lets out a low groan and you whine, pulling at his robes desperately to pull them off.

“Oh,” you breathe out when he lets you, biting your lip at the sight of his bare chest and abdomen. Your fingers spread across his chest eagerly, mapping out the expanse of his skin. There’s a sly smile spreading across your face when you see his cheeks flush pink as your fingers drag lower, past his navel.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks hoarsely, his head tipping back.

“Should I not?” you whisper, fingers delving lower until you can feel his hardness through his robes.

You rub your hand against the bulge experimentally, eyes lighting up when he lets out a grunt. Face tucking into the crook of his neck, your breasts squished against his chest, you place hungry kisses against his neck, palming at his bulge.

The Emperor tugs at your hair, pulling your head back. You stare up at him, meeting him in the middle when he leans forward, sharing a sloppy kiss. His hands squeeze at your waist and you shift in his lap, letting him undress you completely.

Nervousness flits across your face as he stares at your bare body, hands leaving him to cover yourself up. He grabs your hands before you can, placing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers, lips drifting to kiss the shell of your ear.

A shy smile pulls at your lips and he squeezes your waist again. Your brows furrow when he jostles you, making you straddle his thigh instead.

“I want to watch,” Zayne says, his fingers dimpling into the fat of your thighs.

“Watch?” you echo, head tilting in question.

“I want to watch you come undone,” he clarifies, gripping your hips as he guides you into grinding against his thigh.

A strangled noise leaves you and he pats your hip, satisfied. You’re so aroused that your slick has begun to wet his silken robes, the fabric darkening as you roll your hips, dragging your pussy against his thigh.

“I- I want to watch you too,” you gasp out.

Zayne obliges and you watch as he pulls his cock free. The sight is almost enough to have you coming on his covered thigh. His fingers wrap around his cock and you whine, hips rolling faster. “Is it to your satisfaction?” he murmurs.

You nod rapidly. It is. You’ve never seen one before, but you just know Zayne’s is pretty compared to the others. His cock is thick, flushed prettily at the tip to match the blush on his cheeks and you lick your lips, wondering what it might feel like in your mouth. 

“Another time,” Zayne says, smiling when he sees the expression on your face.

It’s entrancing to watch the way his hand drags up and down his cock, his long fingers wrapped around himself. Globs of pre-cum bead at the tip, wetting his hands and his cock, creating a sinful sound. Unable to help yourself, you tilt your head, tongue lolling out as you let your own spit drip down onto his cock. You hum in delight when his thighs twitch, your eyes peering into his as you drag your cunt against his thigh, clit catching on the fabric of his robes just right. 

“I did not know my concubine was so depraved,” he murmurs, his hand kneading the flesh at your hip roughly.

You give him a dopey smile, eyes slipping back down to watch his hand move around his cock whilst you rock your hips. Head falling against his shoulder, your lips drag across his chest, landing soft kisses against his skin before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, nipping his skin lightly.

Airy sounds fill the air, his quiet moans and your soft whimpers emanating in his quarters. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press yourself closer, guiding his head into another kiss. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth with no hesitation. Zayne’s pulling apart suddenly, his previous desire of watching you come undone on your thigh forgotten as he manhandles your body, making you lay down against his bed.

The Emperor kisses you over and over, and your head is swirling, trying to keep up whilst his fingers have found their way down to your pussy, rubbing your wetness across the sensitive flesh before he finds your clit. All it takes is one firm press of his thumb, your thighs twitching violently as you grasp at the sheets, moaning loudly as you come. He smiles against your lips, granting you one last kiss before he directs his attention elsewhere, his face disappearing between your thighs.

“Z-Zayne!” you squeal, pushing at his head, trying to get him to stop as the overstimulation becomes too much.

The Emperor ignores you in favor of thumbing apart your folds, his eyes trained on your clit.

“Pretty” he whispers, the pads of his fingers stroking over your clit gently, “and so, so swollen.”

It has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he kisses the inside of your thighs, edging closer to your pussy, letting out a low breath, the air hitting your exposed pussy.

He groans when you tug at his hair, and you writhe, trying to somehow free yourself from the onslaught of his tongue as he laves over your pussy, pressing sloppy kisses against your skin, his lips latching onto your swollen clit. Zayne’s tongue flicks against the sensitive bud, teasing you.

Something between a moan and a scream climbs its way out your throat, the sound ringing in through his chambers as you come again, thighs firmly squeezing his head. Your eyes widen when you realize the guards are still outside the doors, panic flaring through your body as you scramble to sit up.

Zayne’s hand slides over your mouth before you can get anything out, the stern look in his eyes making you go still. The rapping of the guard’s knuckles against the door has you rigid, eyes widening in alarm as he begins to move his tongue yet again. 

You glare at Zayne, tugging at his hair roughly to make it hurt as you attempt to get his mouth off of you. Zayne only gives you a hazy look, looking utterly gone as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. It’s a struggle to keep the noises in, your body shaking as his nose rubs into your clit and his tongue fucks in and out of your aching hole. 

“Your majesty?” An urgent voice calls out from behind the door, and you can hear the faint scuffling noises of the guards’ boots. 

“Someone get this door open!” another voice hisses, the sliding doors rattling soon after.

The Emperor grunts into your cunt, raising up finally. The sight of him is nearly enough to make you come for a third time. Zayne is utterly disheveled, his cheeks pink and the lower half of his face glistening with your slick. 

You watch as he runs his hand through his hair, biting your lip as you let your gaze wander, catching on his cock once again. He looks painfully hard, cum smeared across his skin and drool is pooling in your mouth. Getting onto your knees, you crawl forward eager to envelop it in your mouth.

The tip makes its way into your mouth for a brief moment and you can barely suck when Zayne is yanking you off of his cock, his hand curled into your hair. 

“Everything is fine,” the Emperor snaps, narrowing his eyes when you pout.

“We heard-”

“I said,” Zayne’s voice grows louder, “everything is fine.”

You think he might take out his wrath on you with the way he grips your cheeks roughly, planting another kiss to your lips. He’s manhandling you yet again, pushing at your shoulders to make you lie down as he settles his hips between your thighs.

Zayne’s cum smears against your skin and you whimper when the fat tip of his cock nudges against your clit. He lands a gentler kiss to your cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as you squirm under him, whimpering as he grinds his cock against your cunt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he lets his cock slide up and down against your folds, “my good girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, cheek squishing against the pillow, “all yours.”

“I want to see you like this all the time,” Zayne confesses, his hand grasping his cock to press it firmly against your cunt, coating it with your arousal, “all flustered and needy… perhaps I am losing my sanity.”

You need him inside of you. The emptiness in your pussy has made you all too aware, hips bucking with every drag of his heavy cock.

“More,” you whisper, voice slurring, “Zayne, I want more.”

Zayne draws back slightly and you watch as he squeezes his cock, pre-cum dripping steadily onto your thigh. He reaches for your hand, fingers lacing with yours.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

You nod, swallowing down your nervousness. He presses his cock into your hole and the stretch is uncomfortable, a pained whimper leaving you as Zayne guides his cock into you. 

“A little more,” he coaxes, kissing your forehead to try and distract you from the initial stretch.

He finally pushes his entire cock in, and you feel as though the air has been punched out of your lungs. Zayne fills you up so perfectly, his cock snug inside your cunt, the emptiness from earlier disappearing almost immediately.

It appears you have affected him just as much, his eyes squeezed shut as he pants into the crook of your neck, trying to get used to the wet heat of your cunt. 

“Perfect,” he mutters mindlessly, and you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside of you, “so- so perfect and warm and tight.”

A hazy smile drifts across your face, legs locking tighter around his hips as your pussy clenches around him.

Zayne lets out a ragged gasp, and you know he can feel it. His eyes bore into yours, brows pulled together in annoyance at your little tease.

“Little minx,” he hisses.

It’s you that gasping this time when he draws his hips back, nails clawing at his back as he thrusts into you. His cock is stretching you out, over and over, as he tries to press it in deeper, trying to carve a path from your pussy to your heart.

“Too- too much!” you wail, arms wrapping around his neck to cling onto him.

“Do you want the guards to hear?” Zayne murmurs against your ear, his hips slowing slightly.

Through the haze of it all, your head turns, eyes finding his. The truth is, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea. Zayne can see the flash of interest in your eyes and he lets out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head.

“I should have taken you sooner,” he mutters, his fingers squeezing at your hips, “kept you close to me from the beginning.”

You preen at the thought, pressing sloppy kisses against his jaw, feeling his cock drag in and out of you.

“Next time, I shall take you on my throne.”

Your movements pause, eyes widening as he whispers those words, his lips brushing across yours.

“Not like that-” you begin to say, cheeks flushing deeper as you imagine him taking you on his throne, his hips rutting into yours like they were now.

“Why not?” he asks, “Shall I command it? Have-” Zayne lets out a shuddering breath “have my entire court watch as my pretty, little concubine loses her mind, drunk on my cock as I claim her atop my throne?”

You moan unabashedly, cunt clenching around him tightly. Zayne grunts, his hips stuttering when at the feeling of your walls tightening before he’s gripping your thigh, his chest flush against yours as he picks up the pace. It’s no secret that the guards must have heard what was happening inside, your loud moans most likely drifting through the wood of the doors. Both you and the Emperor don’t seem to care, lost in the blur of lust that swirls between you both.

“Deeper,” you mumble, pouting up at him, “need- need you closer, Zayne.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” Zayne mutters, dropping his weight on top of you.

You mewl in delight, the feeling of his body against yours deliciously warm. He hikes your thighs up a little higher, hips pressing deeper until you gasp. You can feel his balls pressed snugly against your ass, his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.

“Take it,” he whispers, his hand beginning to stroke your hair as he moves his hips. Short, sharp thrusts that serve to bury his cock into your cunt the way you want, “take it, my love.”

My love. Skin against skin. His hand stroking your hair gently. Girthy cock filling you up perfectly.

The sensations mixed with his affection are too much, pulling at your heart uncomfortably until you let out a sniffle, staring up at him with glassy eyes.

Concern passes through his eyes when he hears you sniffle, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes away a stray tear that beads at the corner of your eye.

“Am I hurting you?” Zayne asks softly.

You shake your head, lips trembling even more at his display of concern. 

“I just like you a lot is all,” you whisper, sniffling quietly.

“I like you too,” Zayne replies in kind, his lips pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “and I take care of what’s mine.”

He leans down, lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss. Your tears wet his cheeks as he keeps you there, kissing you gently whilst his hips roll into you.

“Let go for me, my love” he murmurs, and you’re clenching around him again, feeling his hand sneak its way between your bodies as his thumb rubs against your clit.

You whimper, head pressing back as you arch your back, the sensation of his cock and his fingers driving you further and further to the edge until he latches his mouth onto your breast, catching your nipple between his teeth. He bites down and a broken moan fills the air, body shuddering as you come on his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Zayne grits out when he feels the harsh clench of your cunt around his cock.

You can feel him bury his face into your chest and you reach up weakly, running your fingers through his hair. It’s enough to have him letting out a guttural noise against your chest, his fat cock twitching as his thick cum floods your pussy.

The Emperor lays on top of you, both of your bodies loosened completely. You whimper when he pulls out of you, his cum beginning to leak out from your cunt. Zayne stares at the sight for a moment, entranced, before pulling you closer, letting you press your face into his chest as he kisses your forehead. 

“Everyone will know by now,” you whisper.

“They will,” he agrees, his fingers prying your face away from where it hides.

Zayne peers down into your eyes, a faint smile playing across his lips as he swipes his thumbs against your skin.

“Stay here with me,” he says quietly, “by my side.”

You laugh softly at his proposition.

“I am your concubine,” you murmur, reaching up to curl your hand around his wrist, “nothing more.”

“You will be more,” Zayne insists, his voice hardening,  “I will have you.”

“Your advisors would not allow it!” you protest, eyes turning glassy again.

“Desperation will make them vulnerable to acceptance,” he retorts, his body pressing closer as though to keep you tethered to him, hands tightening around your cheeks.

“I am the Emperor,” he continues, forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours, “you said it yourself. I may do as I wish, and what I wish for is for you to be by my side.”

You swallow harshly, blinking up at him when you hear the sternness of his voice. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, kissing you desperately.

“Stay with me, my love” he whispers again, stealing kiss after kiss from you.

“Okay,” you relent, sinking into his embrace and returning his kisses just as desperately, “okay.”

The Emperor holds you close to his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. The heat of his body has your eyes drooping shut, his lips brushing over your forehead as he whispers sweet promises of his love.

Outside, far away from the warmth of love’s embrace, the first fall of snow has begun to drift from the sky.

[thepencilnerd]

Edge of the Dark

pairing: Jack Abbot x doctor!Reader summary: What starts as quiet pining after too many long shifts becomes something heavier, messier, softer—until the only place it all makes sense is in the dark. warnings: references to trauma and PTSD, mentions of deaths in hospital setting, emotionally charged scenes genre: slow burn, fluff, humor, angst, hurt/mostly comfort, soft intimacy, one (1) very touch-starved man, communication struggles, messy feelings, healing is not linear, implied but not explicit smut word count: ~13.5k (i apologize in advance ;-; pls check out ao3 if you prefer chapters) a/n: this started as a soft character exploration and very quickly became a mega-doc of deep intimacy, trauma-informed gentleness, and jack abbot being so touch-starved it hurts. dedicated to anyone who’s ever longed for someone who just gets it 💛 p.s. check out my other abbot fic if you're interested ^-^

You weren’t sure why you lingered.

Everyone had peeled off after a few beers in the park, laughter trailing behind them like fading campfire smoke. Someone had packed up the empties. Someone else made a joke about early rounds. There were half-hearted goodbyes and the sound of sneakers on gravel.

But two people hadn’t moved.

Jack Abbot was still sitting on the bench, legs stretched out in front of him, head tilted just enough that the sharp line of his jaw caught the low amber light from a distant streetlamp.

You stood a few feet away, hovering, unsure if he wanted to be alone or just didn’t know how to leave.

The countless night shifts you'd shared blurred like smeared ink, all sharp moments and dull exhaustion. You’d been colleagues long enough to know the shape of each other’s presence—Jack’s clipped tone when things were spiraling, your tendency to narrate while suturing. Passing conversations, brief exchanges in stolen moments of calm—that was the extent of it. You knew each other’s habits on shift, the shorthand of chaos, the rhythm of crisis. But outside the job, you were closer to strangers than friends. The Dr. Jack Abbot you knew began and ended in the ER. 

It had always been in fragments. Glimpses across trauma rooms. A muttered "Nice work" after a tricky intubation. The occasional shared note on a chart. Maybe a nod in the break room if you happened to breathe at the same time. You knew each other's rhythms, but not the stories behind them. It was small talk in the eye of a hurricane—the kind that comes fast and leaves no room for anything deeper. The calm before the storm, never after. 

“You okay?” Your voice came out soft, not wanting to startle him in case he was occupied with his thoughts. 

He didn’t look at you right away. Just blinked, slow, eyes boring holes into the concrete path laid before him. "Didn’t want to go home yet." Then, after a beat, his gaze shifted to you. "You coming back in a few hours?"

You huffed a small laugh, more air than sound. "Probably. Not like I’ll get more than a couple hours of sleep anyway." The beer left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue as you took another sip. 

His mouth curved—almost a smile, almost something more. "Yeah. That’s what I said to Robby."

You saw the tired warmth in his eyes. Not gone, just tucked away.

"Wasn't this supposed to be your day off?" you asked, tipping your head slightly. "You could take tomorrow off to comp."

He snorted under his breath. "I could. Probably won't."

"Of course not," you said, lips quirking. "That would be too easy."

"No sleep for the wicked," he muttered dryly, but there was no edge to it. Just familiarity settling between you like an old coat. 

A quiet settled over the bench. Neither of you spoke. You breathed together, the kind of silence that asked nothing, demanded nothing. Just the hush of night stretching between two people with too much in their heads and not enough rest in their bones.

Then, unexpectedly, he asked, "Do you think squirrels ever get drunk from fermented berries?"

You blinked. "What?" It was impossible to hold back the frown of confusion that dashed across your face. 

He shrugged, barely hiding a grin. "I read about it once. They get all wobbly and fall out of trees."

A laugh burst out of you—sudden, warm, real. "Dr. Abbot, are you drunk right now?"

"Little buzzed," he admitted, yet his body gave no indication that he was anything but sober. "But I stand by the question. Seems like something we should investigate. For science."

You laughed again, softer this time. The kind that lingered behind your teeth.

"Call me Jack."

When you looked up, you saw that he was still staring at you. That smile still tugged at the edge of his mouth. There was a flicker of something in his expression—a moment of uncertainty, then decision.

"You can just call me Jack," he repeated, voice quieter now. "We're off the clock."

A grin crept its way onto your face. "Jack." You said it slowly, like you were trying the word on for size. It felt strange in your mouth—new, unfamiliar—but right. The syllable rolled off your tongue and settled into the space between you like something warm.

He ducked his head slightly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with your smile.

The quiet returned, but this time it was lighter, looser. He  leaned down to fasten his prosthetic back in place with practiced ease, then stood up to give his sore muscles another good stretch. When he looked over at you again, it was with a steadier kind of presence—solid, grounded.

"You want some company on the walk home?"

Warmth flooded your face. Maybe it was the alcohol hitting. Or the worry of being a burden. You hesitated, then gave him an apologetic look. "I mean—thank you, really—but you don’t have to.  I live across the river, by Point State Park. It’s kind of out of the way."

Jack tipped his chin up, brows furrowing in thought. "Downtown? I'm on Fifth and Market Street. That’s like, what—two blocks over?"

"Seriously?" Jack Abbot lived a five-minute walk south from you?

The thought settled over you with a strange warmth. All this time, the space between your lives had been measured in blocks.

He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets and slinging on his backpack, the fabric rustling faintly. "Yeah. No bother at all, it's on my way."

You both stood there a moment longer as the wind shifted, carrying with it the distant hum of traffic from Liberty Avenue and the low splash of water against the Mon Wharf. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked once, then fell silent.

"Weird we’ve never run into each other," you murmured, more to yourself than anything. But of course, he heard you.

Jack’s gaze flicked toward you, and something like a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Guess we weren’t looking," he said.

The rest of the walk was quiet, but not empty. Your footsteps echoed in unison against the cracked sidewalk, and somewhere between street lamps and concrete cracks, you stopped feeling like strangers. The dim lights left long shadows that pooled around your feet, soft and flickering. Neither of you seemed in a rush to break the silence.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the leftover buzz from the beers, or maybe it was something else entirely, but the dark didn’t feel heavy the way it sometimes did—especially after shifts like this. It was a kind of refuge. A quiet shelter for two people too used to holding their breath. It felt... safe. Like a shared language being spoken in a place you both understood.

A few night shifts passed. Things had quieted down after the mass casualty event—at least by ER standards—but the chaos never really left. Working emergency meant the moments of calm were usually just precursors to the next wave. You were supposed to be off by seven, but paperwork ran long, a consult ran over, a med student went rogue with an IO drill, and before you knew it, it was 9 am.

After unpinning your badge and stuffing it into your pocket, you pushed through the main hospital doors and winced against the pale morning light. Everything felt too sharp, too loud, and the backs of your eyes throbbed from hours of fluorescent lighting. Fatigue settled deep in your muscles, a familiar dull ache that pulsed with each step. The faint scent of antiseptic clung to your scrubs, mixed with the bitter trace of stale coffee.

You were busy rubbing your eyes, trying to relieve the soreness that bloomed behind them like a dull migraine, and didn’t see the figure standing just to the side of the door.

You walked straight into him—headfirst.

“Jesus—sorry,” you muttered, taking a step back.

And there he was: Jack Abbot, leaning against the bike rack just outside the lobby entrance. His eyes tracked the sliding doors like he’d been waiting for something—or someone. In one hand, he held a steaming paper cup. Not coffee, you realized when the scent hit you, but tea. And in the other, he had a second cup tucked against his ribs. 

He looked up when he saw you, and for a second, he didn’t say anything. Just smiled, small and tired and real.

"Dr. Abbot." You blinked, caught completely off guard. 

"Jack," he corrected gently, with a crooked smirk that didn’t quite cover the hint of nerves underneath. "Off the clock, remember?"

A soft scoff escaped you—more acknowledgment than answer. As you shifted your weight, the soreness settled into your legs. "Wait—why are you still here? Your caseload was pretty light today. Should’ve been out hours ago."

Jack shrugged, eyes steady on yours. "Had a few things to wrap up. Figured I’d wait around. Misery loves company."

You blinked again, slower this time. That quiet, steady warmth in your chest flared—not dramatic, just there. Present. Unspoken.

He extended the cup toward you like it was no big deal. You took it, the warmth of the paper seeping into your fingers, grounding you more than you expected.

"Didn’t know how you took it," Jack said. "Figured tea was safer than coffee at this hour."

You nodded, still adjusting to the strange intimacy of being thought about. "Good guess."

He glanced at his own cup, then added with a small smirk, "The barista recommended some new hipster blend—uh, something like... lavender cloudburst? Cloud... bloom? I don't know. It sounded ridiculous, but it smelled okay, so."

You snorted into your first sip. "Lavender cloudburst? That a seasonal storm warning or a tea?"

Jack laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly couldn’t tell you. I just nodded like I knew what I was doing."

And something about the way he said it—offhand, dry, and a little self-deprecating—made the morning feel a little softer. Like he wasn’t just waiting to see you. He was trying to figure out how to stay a little longer.

The first sip tasted like a warm hug. “It’s good,” you hummed. Jack would be remiss if he didn’t notice the way your cheeks flushed pink, or how you smiled to yourself. 

So the two of you just started walking.

There was no plan. No particular destination in mind. Just the rhythmic scuff of your shoes on the pavement, the warm cups in hand, and the soft hum of a city waking up around you. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, just cautious—guarded, maybe, but not unwilling. As you passed by a row of restaurants, he made a quiet comment about the coffee shop that always burned their bagels. You mentioned the skeleton in OR storage someone dressed up in scrubs last Halloween, prompted by some graffiti on the brick wall of an alley. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Jack shoved one hand in his pocket, the other still cradling his now-empty cup. “I still think cloudburst sounds like a shampoo brand.”

You grinned, stealing a sideways glance at him. “I don’t know, I feel like it could also be a very niche indie band.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and breathy. “That tracks. ‘Cloudburst’s playing the Thunderbird next weekend.’”

“Opening for Citrus Lobotomy,” you deadpanned.

Jack nearly choked on his last sip of tea.

The moment passed like that—small, stupid jokes nestled between shared exhaustion and something else neither of you were quite ready to name. But in those fragments, in those glances and tentative laughs, there was a kind of knowing. Not everything had to be said outright. Some things could just exist—quietly, gently—between the spaces of who you were behind hospital doors and who you were when the work was finally done.

The next shift came hard and fast.

A critical trauma rolled in just past midnight—a middle-aged veteran, found unconscious, head trauma, unstable vitals, military tattoo still visible on his forearm beneath the dried blood. Jack was leading the case, and even from across the trauma bay, you could see it happen—the second he recognized the tattoo, something in him shut down.

He didn’t freeze. Didn’t panic. He just... went quiet. Tighter around the eyes. Sharper, more mechanical. As if he’d stepped out of his body and left the rest behind to finish the job.

The team moved like clockwork, but the rhythm never felt right. The patient coded again. Then again. Jack ordered another round of epi, demanded more blood—his voice tight, almost brittle. That sharp clench of his jaw said everything he didn’t. He wanted this one to make it. He needed to.

Even as the monitor flatlined, its sharp tone cutting through the noise like a blade, he kept going.

“Start another line,” he said. “Hang another unit. Push another dose.”

No one moved.

You stepped in, heart sinking. “Dr. Abbot… he’s gone.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t look at you. “One more round. Just—try again.”

The team hesitated. Eyes darted to you.

You stepped closer, voice soft but firm. “Jack—” you said his name like a lifeline, not a reprimand. “I’m so sorry.”

That stopped him. Just like that, his breath caught. Shoulders sagged. The echo of the monitor still rang behind you, constant and cold.

He finally looked at the man on the table.

“Time of death, 02:12.”

His hands didn’t shake until they were empty.

Then he peeled off his gloves and threw them hard into the garbage can, the snap of latex punctuating the silence like a slap. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the trauma bay, footsteps clipped and angry, leaving the others standing frozen in his wake.

It wasn’t until hours later—when the adrenaline faded and the grief crawled back in like smoke under a door—that you found him again.

He was on the roof.

Just standing there.

Like the sky could carry the weight no one else could hold. 

As if standing beneath that wide, empty stretch might quiet the scream still lodged in his chest. He didn’t turn around when you stepped onto the roof, but his posture shifted almost imperceptibly. He recognized your footsteps.

"What are you doing up here?"

The words came from him, low and rough, and it surprised you more than it should have.

You paused, taking careful steps toward him. Slow enough not to startle, deliberate enough to be noticed. "I should be asking you that."

He let out a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh—or maybe just exhaustion given form. For a while, neither of you spoke. The wind pulled at your scrub top, cool and insistent, but not enough to chase you back inside.

“You ever have one of those cases that just—sticks?” he asked eventually, eyes still locked on the city below.

“Most of them,” you admitted quietly. “Some louder than others.”

Jack nodded, slow. “Yeah. Thought I was past that one.”

You didn’t ask what he meant. You knew better than to press. Just like he didn’t ask why you were really up there, either.

There was a pause. Not empty—just cautious.

“I get it,” you murmured. “Some things don’t stay buried. No matter how deep you try to shove them down.”

That earned a glance from him, fleeting but sharp. “Didn’t know you had things like that.”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze steady on the skyline. “That’s the point, right?”

Another breath. A half-step toward understanding. But the walls stayed up—for now. Just not as high as they’d been.

You glanced at him, his face half in shadow. "It’s not weak to let someone stand beside you. Doesn’t make the weight go away, but it’s easier to keep moving when you’re not the only one holding it."

His shoulders twitched, just slightly. Like something in him heard you—and wanted to believe it.

You nudged the toe of your shoe against a loose bit of gravel, sensing the way Jack had pulled back into himself. The lines of his shoulders had gone stiff again, his expression harder to read. So you leaned into what you knew—a little humor, a little distance cloaked in something lighter.

“If you jump on Robby’s shift, he’ll probably make you supervise the med students who can't do proper chest compressions.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But something close. Something that cracked the silence just enough to let the air in again. “God, I'd hate to be his patient."

Then, in one fluid motion, he swung a leg through the railing and stepped carefully onto solid ground beside you. The metal creaked beneath his weight, but he moved like he’d done it a hundred times before. That brief flicker of distance, of something fragile straining at the edges, passed between you both in silence.

Neither of you said anything more. You simply turned together, wordlessly, and started heading back inside.

A shift change here, a coffee break there—moments that lingered a little longer than they used to. Small talk slipped into quieter pauses that neither of you rushed to fill. Glances held for just a beat too long, then quickly looked away.

You noticed things. Not all at once. But enough.

Jack’s habit of reorganizing the cart after every code. The way he checked in on the new interns when he thought no one was watching. The moments he paused before signing out, like he wasn’t ready to meet daybreak.

And sometimes, you’d catch him watching you—not with intent, but with familiarity. As if the shape of you in a room had become something he expected. Something steady.

Nothing was said. Nothing had to be.

Whatever it was, it was moving. Slowly. Quietly.

The kind of shift that only feels seismic once you look back at where you started.

One morning, after another long stretch of back-to-back shifts, the two of you walked out together without planning to. No words, no coordination. Just parallel exhaustion and matching paces.

The city was waking up—soft blue sky, the whir of early buses, the smell of something vaguely sweet coming from a bakery down the block.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You walking all the way?”

“Figured I’d try and get some sleep,” you said, then hesitated. “Actually… there’s a diner a few blocks from here. Nothing fancy. But their pancakes don’t suck.”

He glanced over, one brow raised. “Is that your way of saying you want breakfast?”

“I’m saying I’m hungry,” you replied, a touch too casual. “And you look like you could use something that didn’t come out of a vending machine.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a long second, then nodded once.

“Alright,” he said. “Lead the way.”

And that was it.

No declarations. No turning point anyone else might notice. Just two people, shoulder to shoulder, walking in the same direction a little longer than they needed to. 

The diner wasn’t much—formica tables, cracked vinyl booths, a waitress who refilled your bland coffee without asking. But it was warm, and quiet, and smelled like real butter.

You sat across from Jack in a booth near the window, elbows on the table, hands wrapped around mismatched mugs. He didn’t talk much at first, just stirred his coffee like he was waiting for it to tell him something.

Eventually, the silence gave way.

“I think I’ve eaten here twice this week,” you said, gesturing to the laminated menu. “Mostly because I don’t trust myself near a stove after night shift.”

Jack cracked a tired smile. “Last time I tried to make eggs, I nearly set off the sprinklers.”

“That would’ve been one hell of a consult excuse.”

He chuckled—quiet, genuine. The kind of laugh that felt rare on him. “Pretty sure the med students already think I live at the hospital. That would've just confirmed it.”

Conversation meandered from there. Things you both noticed. The weird habits of certain attendings. The one resident who used peanut butter as a mnemonic device. None of it deep, but all of it honest.

Somewhere between pancakes and too many refills, something eased.

Jack looked up mid-sip, met your eyes, and didn’t look away.

“You’re easy to sit with,” he said simply.

You didn’t answer right away.

Just smiled. “You are too.”

One thing about Jack was that he never shied away from eye contact. Maybe it was the military in him—or maybe it was just how he kept people honest. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and when it landed on you, it stayed.

You felt it then, like a spotlight cutting through the dim diner lighting. That intensity, paired with the softness of the moment, made your stomach dip. You ducked your head, suddenly interested in your coffee, and took a sip just to busy your hands.

Jack didn’t miss it. “You feeling okay?"

You scoffed. “It’s just warm in here.”

“Mmm,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Must be the pancakes.”

You coughed lightly, the sound awkward and deliberate, then reached for the safety of a subject less charged. “So,” you began, “what’s the worst advice you ever got from a senior resident?”

Jack blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “That’s easy. ‘If the family looks confused, just talk faster.’”

You winced, grinning. “Oof. Classic.”

He leaned back in the booth. “What about you?”

“Oh, mine told me to bring donuts to chart review so the attending would go easy on me.”

Jack tilted his head. “Did it work?”

“Well,” you said, “the donuts got eaten. My SOAP note still got ripped apart. So, no.”

He chuckled. “Justice, then.”

He stirred his coffee once more, then set the spoon down with more care than necessary. His voice dropped, softer, but not fragile. Testing the waters.

"You ever think about leaving it? The ER, I mean."

The question caught you off guard—not because it was heavy, but because it was him asking. You blinked at him, surprised to see something flicker behind his eyes. Not restlessness exactly. Just... ache.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "When it gets too loud. When I catch myself counting the days instead of the people."

Jack nodded, but his gaze locked on you. Steady. Intense. Like he was memorizing something. It took everything out of you not to shy away. 

"I used to think if I left, everything I’d seen would catch up to me all at once. Like the noise would follow me anyway."

You let that hang in the air between you. It wasn’t a confession. But it was close.

"Maybe it would. But maybe there’d be room to breathe, too..." you trailed off, breaking eye contact. 

Jack didn’t respond, didn’t look away. Simply looked into you with the hopes of finding an answer for himself. 

Eventually, the food was picked at more than eaten, the check paid, and the last of the coffee drained. When you finally stepped outside, the air hit cooler than expected—brisk against your skin, a contrast to the warmth left behind in the diner. The sky had brightened while you weren’t looking, soft light catching the edges of buildings, traffic picking up in a faint buzz. It was the kind of morning that made everything feel suspended—just a little bit longer—before the real world returned.

The walk back was quieter than before. Not tense, just full. Tired footsteps on uneven sidewalks. The distant chirp of birds. Your shoulders brushing once. Maybe twice.

When you finally reached your building, you paused on the steps. Jack lingered just behind you, hands in his jacket pockets, gaze drifting toward the street.

"Thanks for breakfast," you said.

He nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

A beat passed. Then two.

You could’ve invited him up. He could’ve asked if you wanted some tea. But neither of you took the step forward, opting rather to stand still. 

Not yet.

“Get some sleep,” he said, voice low.

“You too.”

And just like that, he turned and walked off into the quiet.

Another hard shift. One of those nights that stuck to your skin, bitter and unshakable. You’d both lost a patient that day. Different codes, same outcome. Same weight. Same painful echo of loss that clung to the insides of your chest like smoke. No one cried. No one yelled. But it was there—the tension around Jack’s mouth, the clenching of his jaw; the way your hands wouldn’t stop flexing, nails digging into your palms to ground yourself. In the stillness. In the quiet. In everything that hurt.

You lingered near the bike racks, not really speaking. The space between you was thick, not tense—but full. Too full.

It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. The kind of hour where the streets felt hollow and fluorescent light still hummed behind your eyes. No one had moved to say goodbye.

You shifted your weight, glanced at him. Jack stood a few feet away, jaw tight, eyes somewhere distant.

The words slipped out before you could stop them. 

“I could make tea." Not loud. Not casual. Just—offered. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it. Maybe it was the way he was looking at the ground. Or the way the silence between you had started to feel like lead. Either way, the moment it left your mouth, something inside you winced.  

He looked at you then. Really looked. And after a long pause, nodded. “Alright.”

So you walked the blocks together, shoulder to shoulder beneath the hum of a waking city. The stroll was quiet—neither of you said much after the offer. When you reached the front steps of your building, your fingers froze in front of the intercom box. Hovered there. Hesitated. You weren’t even sure why—he was just standing there, quiet and steady beside you—but still, something in your chest fluttered. Then you looked at him.

“The code’s 645,” you murmured, like it meant nothing. Like it hadn’t just made your stomach flip.

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded. The beeping of the box felt louder than it should’ve, too sharp against the quiet. But then the lock clicked, and the door swung open, and he followed you inside like he belonged there.

And then the two of you walked inside together.

Up the narrow staircase, your footsteps were slow, measured. The kind of tired that lived in your bones. He kept close but didn’t crowd, hand brushing the rail, eyes skimming the hallway like he didn’t quite know where to look.

When you opened the door to unit 104, you suddenly remembered what your place looked like—barebones, mostly. Lived-in, but not curated. A pair of shoes kicked off by the entryway, two mismatched mugs and a bowl in the sink, a pile of jackets strewn over the chair you'd found in a yard sale. 

The floors creaked as he stepped inside. You winced, suddenly self-conscious.

"Sorry about the mess..." you muttered. You didn’t know what you expected—a judgment, maybe. A raised eyebrow. Something.

Instead, Jack looked around once, taking it in slowly. Then nodded.

“It fits.”

Something in his tone—low, sure, completely unfazed, like it was exactly what he'd imagined—made your stomach flip again. You exhaled quietly, tension easing in your shoulders.

"Make yourself at home."

Jack nodded again, then bent to untie his trainers. He stepped out of them carefully, placed them neatly by the door, and gave the space one more quiet scan before making his way to the living room.

The couch creaked softly as he sat, hands resting loosely on his knees, like he wasn’t sure whether to stay upright or lean back. From the kitchen, you stole a glance—watching him settle in, or at least try to. You didn’t want to bombard him with questions or hover like a bad host, but the quiet stretched long, and something in you itched to fill it.

You busied yourself with boiling water, fussing with mugs, tea bags, sugar that wasn’t there. Trying to make it feel like something warm was waiting in the silence. Trying to give him space, even as a dozen things bubbled just beneath your skin.

“Chamomile okay?” you finally asked, the words light but uncertain.

Jack didn’t look up. But he nodded. “Yeah. That’s good.” You turned back to the counter, heart thudding louder than the kettle.

Meanwhile, Jack sat in near silence, but his eyes moved slowly around the room. Not searching. Just... seeing.

There were paintings on the walls—mostly landscapes, one abstract piece with colors he couldn’t name. Based on the array of prints to fingerpainted masterpieces, he guessed you'd painted some of them, but they all felt chosen. Anchored. Real.

A trailing pothos hung from a shelf above the radiator, green and overgrown, even though the pot looked like it had seen better days. It was lush despite the odds—thriving in a quiet, accidental kind of way.

Outside on the balcony ledge, he spotted a few tiny trinkets: a mushroom clay figure with a lopsided smile, a second plant—shorter, spikier, the kind that probably didn’t need much water but still looked stubbornly alive. A moss green glazed pot, clearly handmade. All memories, maybe. All pieces of you he’d never seen before. Pieces of someone he was only beginning to know. He took them in slowly, carefully. Not wanting to miss a single thing.

The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts. Two mugs clinking gently. You stepped into the living room and offered him one without fanfare, just a quiet sort of steadiness that made the space feel warmer. He took the tea with a small nod, thanking you. You didn’t sit beside him. You settled on the loveseat diagonal from the couch—close, but not too close. Enough to see him without watching. Enough space to let him breathe.

He noticed.

Your fingers curled around your mug. The steam gave you something to look at. Jack’s expression didn’t shift much, but you knew he could read you like an open book. Probably already had.

“You’ve got a lovely place,” he said suddenly, eyes flicking to a print on the wall—one slightly crooked, like it had been bumped and never fixed. “Exactly how I imagined, honestly.”

You arched a brow, skeptical. “Messy and uneven?”

Jack let out a quiet laugh. “I was going to say warm. But yeah, sure. Bonus points for the haunted radiator.”

The way he said it—calm, a little awkward, like he was trying to make you feel comfortable—landed somewhere between a compliment and a peace offering.

He took another sip of tea. “It just… feels like you.”

The words startled something in you. You didn’t know what to say—not right away. Your smile came small, a little crooked, the kind you didn’t have to fake but weren’t sure how to hold for long. “Thank you,” you said softly, fingers tightening around your mug like it might keep you grounded. The heat had gone tepid, but the gesture still lingered.

Jack looked like he might say something else, then didn’t. His fingers tapped once, twice, against the side of his mug before he exhaled through his nose—a small, thoughtful sound.

“My therapist once told me that vulnerability’s like walking into a room naked and hoping someone brought a blanket,” he said, dryly. “I told him I’d rather stay in the hallway.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, surprised. “Mine said it was like standing on a beach during high tide. Sooner or later, the water reaches you—whether you're ready or not.”

Jack’s mouth quirked, amused. “That’s poetic.”

You shrugged, sipping your tea. “She’s a big fan of metaphors. And tide charts, apparently.”

He smiled into his mug. “Makes sense. You’re the kind of person who would still be standing there when it comes in.”

You tilted your head. “And you?”

He considered that. “Probably pacing the rocks. Waiting for someone to say it’s okay to sit down.”

A quiet stretched between you, but this one felt earned—less about what wasn’t said and more about what had been.

An hour passed like that. Not all silence, not all speech. Just the easy drift of soft conversation and shared space. Small talk filled the cracks when it needed to—his comment about the plant that seemed to be plotting something in the corner, your half-hearted explanation for the random stack of books next to the radiator. Every now and then, something deeper would peek through the surface.

“Ever think about just… disappearing?” you asked once, offhanded and a little too real.

Jack didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. But then I’d miss pancakes. And Mexican food.”

You laughed, and he smiled like he hadn’t meant to say something so honest.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough. A rhythm, slow and shy. Words passed like notes through a crack in the door—careful, but curious. Neither of you rushed it. Neither of you left.

And then the storm hit.

The rain droplets started slow, just a whisper on the window. But it built fast—wind shaking the glass, thunder cracking overhead like a warning. You turned toward it, heart sinking a little. Jack did too, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Jesus," you murmured, already reaching for your phone. As if by divine timing, the emergency alert confirmed it: flash flood advisory until late evening. Admin had passed coverage onto the day shift. Robby wouldn't be happy about that. You made a mental note to make fun of him about it tomorrow. "Doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon..." 

You glanced at Jack, who was still holding his mug like he wasn’t sure if he should move.

“You're welcome to stay—if you want,” you quickly clarified, trying to sound casual. “Only if you want to. Until it clears.”

His eyes flicked toward the window again, then to you. “You sure?”

“I mean, unless you want to risk get struck by lightning or swept into a storm drain.”

That earned the smallest laugh. “Tempting.”

You smiled, nervous. “Spare towel and blankets are in the linen closet. Couch pulls out. I think. Haven’t tried.”

Jack nodded slowly, setting his mug down. “I’m not picky.”

You busied yourself with clearing a spot, the nervous kind of motion that said you cared too much and didn’t know where to put it.

Jack watched you for a moment longer than he should’ve, then started helping—quiet, careful, hands brushing yours once as he reached for the extra pillow.

Neither of you commented on it. But your face burned.

And when the storm didn’t stop, neither of you rushed it.

Instead, the hours slipped by, slow and soft. At some point, Jack asked if he could shower—voice low, like he didn’t want to intrude. You pointed him toward the bathroom and handed him a spare towel, trying not to overthink the fact that his fingers grazed yours when he took it.

While he was in there, you busied yourself with making something passable for dinner. Rice. Egg drop soup. A couple frozen dumplings your mother had sent you dressed up with scallions and sesame oil. When Jack returned, hair damp, sleeves pushed up, you nearly dropped the plate. It wasn’t fair—how effortlessly good he looked like that. A little disheveled, a little too comfortable in a stranger’s home, and yet somehow perfectly at ease in your space. It was just a flash of thought—sharp, traitorous, warm—and then you buried it fast, turning back to the stovetop like it hadn’t happened at all.

You were still hovering by the stove, trying not to let the dumplings stick when you heard his footsteps. When he stepped beside you without a word and reached for a second plate, something in your brain short-circuited.

"Smells good," he said simply, voice low—and he somehow still smelled faintly of cologne, softened by the unmistakable citrus-floral mix of your body wash. It wasn’t fair. The scent tugged at something in your chest you didn’t want to name.

You blinked rapidly, buffering. "Thanks. Uh—it’s not much. Just... whatever I had."

He glanced at the pan, then to you. “You always downplay a five-course meal like this?”

Your mouth opened to protest, but then he smiled—quiet and warm and maybe a little teasing.

It took effort not to stare. Not to say something stupid about how stupidly good he looked. You shoved the thought down, hard, and went back to plating the food.

He helped without asking, falling into step beside you like he’d always been there. And when you both sat down at the low table, he smiled at the spread like it meant more than it should’ve.

Neither of you talked much while eating. But the air between you felt settled. Comfortable.

At some point between the second bite and the last spoonful of rice, Jack glanced up from his bowl and said, "This is good. Really good. I haven’t had a homemade meal in... a long time."

You were pleasantly surprised. And relieved. "Oh. Thanks. I’m just glad it turned out edible."

He shook his head slowly, eyes still on you. "If this were my last meal, I think I’d die happy."

Your face flooded with warmth instantly. It was stupid, really, the way a single line—soft, almost offhand—landed like that. You ducked your head, smiling into your bowl, trying to play it off.

You scoffed. "It's warm in here."

Jack tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, amused. "You okay?"

“Mmm,” he murmured, clearly unconvinced. But he let it go.

Still, the corner of his mouth tugged upward.

You cleared your throat. "You're welcome anytime you'd like, by the way. For food. Or tea. Or... just to not be alone."

That earned a look from him—surprised, quiet, but soft in a way that made your chest ache.

And you didn’t dare look at him for a full minute after that.

When you stood to rinse your dishes, Jack took your bowl from your hands before you could protest and turned toward the sink. You opened your mouth but he was already running water, already rinsing with careful, practiced motions. So you just stood there in the soft hush of your kitchen, warmed by tea and stormlight, trying not to let your heart do anything foolish.

By the time the dishes were rinsed and left on the drying rack, the storm had only worsened—sheets of rain chasing themselves down the windows, thunder rolling deep and constant.

You found yourselves in the living room again, this time without urgency, without pretense—just quiet familiarity laced with something softer. And so, without discussing it, without making it a thing, you handed him the extra blanket and turned off all but one lamp.

Neither of you moved toward sleep just yet.

You were sitting by the balcony window, knees pulled up, mug long since emptied, staring out at the storm as it lashed the glass in sheets. The sound had become something rhythmic, almost meditative. Still, your arms were bare, and the goosebumps that peppered your forearms betrayed the chill creeping in.

Jack didn’t say anything—just stood quietly from the couch and returned with the throw blanket from your armrest. Without a word, he draped it over your shoulders.

You startled slightly, looking up at him. But he didn’t comment. Just gave you a small nod, then sat down beside you on the floor, his back against the corner of the balcony doorframe, gaze following yours out into the storm. The blanket settled around both of you like a quiet pact. 

After a while, Jack’s voice cut through it, barely louder than the storm. “You afraid of the dark?”

You glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at you—just at the rain trailing down the window. “Used to be,” you said. “Not so much anymore. You?”

He was quiet for a beat.

“I used to think the dark was hiding me,” he said once. Voice quiet, like he was talking to the floor, or maybe the memory of a version of himself he didn’t recognize anymore. “But I think it’s just the only place I don’t have to pretend. Where I don’t have to act like I’m whole.”

Your heart cracked. Not from pity, but from the aching intimacy of honesty.

Then he looked at you—really looked at you. Eyes steady, searching, too much all at once. You forgot how to breathe for a second. "My therapist thinks I find comfort in the darkness."

There was something about the way he fit into the storm, the way the shadows curved around him without asking for anything back. You wondered if it was always like this for him—calmer in the chaos, more himself in the dark. Maybe that was the tradeoff.

Some people thrived in the day. Others feared being blinded by the light. 

Jack, you were starting to realize, functioned best where things broke open. In the adrenaline. In the noise. Not because he liked it, necessarily—but because he knew it. He understood its language. The stillness of normalcy? That was harder. Quieter in a way that didn’t feel safe. Unstructured. Unknown.

A genius in crisis. A ghost in calm.

But you saw it.

And you said, softly, "Maybe the dark doesn’t ask us to be anything. That’s why it feels like home sometimes. You don’t have to be good. Or okay. Or whole. You just get to be." That made him look at you again—slow, like he didn’t want to miss it. Maybe no one had ever said it that way before.

The air felt different after that—still heavy, still quiet, but warmer somehow. Jack broke it with a low breath, barely a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So... do all your philosophical monologues come with tea and thunder, or did I just get the deluxe package?"

You let out a soft laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing by degrees. "Only the Abbot special."

He bumped your knee gently with his. "Lucky me."

You didn’t say anything else, just leaned back against the wall beside him.

Eventually, you both got up. Brushed teeth side by side, a little awkward, a little shy. You both stood in front of the couch, staring at it like it had personally wronged you. You reached for the handle. Jack braced the backrest. Nothing moved.

"This can’t be that complicated," you muttered.

"Two MDs, one brain cell," Jack deadpanned, and you snorted.

It took a few grunts, an accidental elbow, and a very questionable click—but eventually, the thing unfolded.

He took the couch. You turned off the last lamp.

"Goodnight," you murmured in the dark.

"Goodnight," he echoed, softer.

And for once, the quiet didn’t press. It held.

Weeks passed. Jack came over a handful of times. He accompanied you home after work, shoulders brushing as you walked the familiar path back in comfortable quiet. You learned the rhythm of him in your space. The way he moved through your kitchen like he didn’t want to disturb it. The way he always put his shoes by the door, lined up neatly like they belonged there. 

Then one day, it changed. He texted you, right before your shift ended: You free after? My place this time.

You stared at the screen longer than necessary. Then typed back: Yeah. I’d like that.

He met you outside the hospital that night, both of you bone-tired from a brutal shift, scrub jackets zipped high against the wind. You hadn’t been to Jack’s place before. Weren’t even sure what you expected. Your nerves had started bubbling to the surface the moment you saw him—automatic, familiar. Like your brain was bracing for rejection and disappointment before he even said a word.

You tried to keep it casual, but old habits died hard. Vulnerability always felt like standing on the edge of something steep, and your first instinct was to retreat. To make sure no one thought you needed anything at all. The second you saw him, the words spilled out in a rush—fast, nervous, unfiltered.

"Jack, you don’t have to...make this a thing. You don’t owe me anything just because you’ve been crashing at my place. I didn’t mean for it to feel like you had to invite me back or—"

He cut you off before you could spiral further.

“Hey.” Just that—firm but quiet. A grounding thread. His hands settled on your arms, near your elbows, steadying you with a grip that was firm but careful—like he knew exactly how to hold someone without hurting them. His fingers were warm, his palms calloused in places that told stories he’d never say out loud. His forearms, bare beneath rolled sleeves, flexed with restrained strength. And God, you hated that it made your brain short-circuit for a second.

Of course Jack Abbot would comfort you and make you feral in the same breath.

Then he looked at you—really looked. “I invited you because I wanted you there. Not because I owe you. Not because I’m keeping score. Not because I'm expecting anything from you.”

The wind pulled at your sleeves. The heat rose to your cheeks before you could stop it.

Jack softened. Offered the faintest smile. “I want you here. But only if you want to be.”

You let out a breath. “Okay,” you said. Soft. Certain, even through the nerves. You smiled, more to yourself than to him. Jack’s gaze lingered on that smile—quietly, like he was memorizing it. His shoulders loosened, just barely, like your answer had unlocked something he hadn’t realized he was holding onto.

Be vulnerable, you told yourself. Open up. Allow yourself to have this.

True to his word, it really was just two blocks from your place. His building was newer, more modern. Clean lines, soft lighting, the kind of entryway that labeled itself clearly as an apartment complex. Yours, by comparison, screamed haunted brick building with a temperamental boiler system and a very committed resident poltergeist.

You were still standing beside him when he keyed open the front door, the keypad beeping softly under his fingers.

"5050," he said.

You tipped your head, confused. "Sorry?"

He looked at you briefly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud but didn’t take it back either. “Door code.”

Something in your chest fluttered. It echoed the first night you’d given him yours—unthinking, unfiltered, just a quiet offering. This felt the same. An unspoken invitation. You’re welcome here. Any time you want. Any time you need.

"Thanks, Jack." You could see a flicker of something behind his eyes. 

The elevator up was quiet.

Jack watched the floor numbers tick by like he was counting in his head. You stared at your reflection in the brushed metal ceiling, the fluorescent lighting doing no one any favors. Totally not worried about the death trap you were currently in. Definitely not calculating which corner you'd curl into if the whole thing dropped.

When the doors opened, the hallway was mercifully empty, carpeted, quiet. You followed him down to the end, your steps softened by the hush of the building. Unit J24.

He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped aside so you could walk in first.

You did—and paused.

It was... barren. Not in a sterile way, but in the sense that it looked like he’d just moved in a few days ago and hadn’t had the energy—or maybe the need—to settle. The walls were bare and painted a dark blue-grey. A matching couch and a dim floor lamp in the living room. A fridge in the kitchen humming like it was trying to fill the silence. No art. No rugs. Not a photo or magnet in sight. 

And yet—somehow—it felt entirely Jack. Sparse. Quiet. Intentional. A place built for someone who didn’t like to linger but was trying to learn how. You stepped in further, slower now. A kind of reverence in your movement, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

Because even in the stillness, even in the emptiness—he’d let you in. 

Jack took off his shoes and opened up a closet by the door. You mirrored his motions, suddenly aware of every move you made like a spotlight landed on you. 

"Make yourself at home," he said, voice casual but low.

You walked over to the couch and sat down, your movements slow, careful. Even the cushions felt new—firm, unsunken, like no one had ever really used them. It squeaked a little beneath you, unfamiliar in its resistance.

You ran your hand lightly over the fabric, then looked around again, taking everything in. "Did you paint the walls?"

Jack gave a short huff of a laugh from the kitchen. “Had to fight tooth and nail with my landlord to get that approved. Said it was too dark. Too dramatic.”

He reappeared in the doorway with two mugs in hand. “Guess I told on myself.” He handed you the lighter green one, taking the black chipped one for himself. 

You took it carefully, fingers brushing his for a moment. “Thanks.”

The warmth seeped into your palms immediately, grounding. The scent rising from the cup was oddly familiar—floral, slightly citrusy, like something soft wrapped in memory. You took a cautious sip. Your brows lifted. “Wait… is this the Lavender cloudburst... cloudbloom?”

Jack gave you a sheepish glance, rubbing the back of his neck. “It is. I picked up a bag couple of days ago. Figured if I was going to be vulnerable and dramatic, I might as well commit to the theme.”

You snorted. He smiled into his own cup, quiet.

What he didn’t say: that he’d stared at the bag in the store longer than any sane person should, wondering if buying tea with you in mind meant anything. That he bought it a while back, hoping one day he'd get to share it with you. Wondering if letting himself hope was already a mistake. But saying it felt too big. Too much.

Jack’s eyes drifted to you—not the tea, not the room, but you. The way your shoulders were ever-so-slightly raised, tension tucked beneath the soft lines of your posture. The way your eyes moved around the room, drinking in every corner, every shadow, like you were searching for something you couldn’t name.

He didn’t say anything. Just watched.

And maybe you felt it—that quiet kind of watching. The kind that wasn’t about staring, but about seeing. Really seeing.

You took another sip, slower this time. The warmth helped. So did the silence.

Small talk came easier than it had before. Not loud, not hurried. Just quiet questions and softer replies. The kind of conversation that made space instead of filling it.

Jack tilted his head slightly. “You always look at rooms like you’re cataloguing them.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” He smiled softly into his mug. “Like you’re trying to figure out what’s missing.”

You considered that for a second. “Maybe I am.”

A pause, then—“And?”

Your gaze swept the room one last time, then landed back on him. “Nothing. This apartment feels like you.”

You expected him to nod or laugh it off, maybe deflect with a joke. But instead, he just looked at you—still, soft, like your words had pressed into some quiet corner of him he didn’t know was waiting. The moment lingered.

And he gave the slightest nod, the kind that said he heard you—really heard you—even if he didn’t quite know how to respond. The ice between you didn’t crack so much as it thawed, slow and patient, like neither of you were in a rush to get to spring. But it was melting, all the same.

Jack set his mug down on the coffee table, fingertips lingering against the ceramic a second longer than necessary. “I don’t usually do this,” he said finally. “The… letting people in thing.”

His honesty caught you off guard—so sudden, so unguarded, it tugged something loose in your chest. You nodded, heart caught somewhere behind your ribs. “I know.”

He gave you a sideways glance, prompting you to continue. You sipped your tea, eyes fixed on the rim of your cup. “I see how carefully you move through the world.”

“Thank you,” you added after a beat—genuine, quiet.

He didn’t say anything back, and the two of you left it at that.

Silence again, but it felt different now. Less like distance. More like the space between two people inching closer. Jack leaned back slightly, stretching one leg out in front of him, the other bent at the knee. “You scare me a little,” he admitted.

That got a chuckle out of you. 

“Not in a bad way,” he added quickly. “Just… in the way it feels when something actually matters.”

You set your mug down too, hands suddenly unsure of what to do. “You scare me too.”

Jack stared at you then—longer than he probably meant to. You felt it immediately, the heat rising in your chest under the weight of it, his gaze almost reverent, almost like he wanted to say something else but didn’t trust it to come out right.

So you cleared your throat and tried to steer the tension elsewhere. “Not as much as you scare the med students,” you quipped, lips twitching into a crooked smile.

Jack huffed out a low laugh, the edge of his mouth pulling up. “I sure as hell hope not.”

You let the moment linger for a beat longer, then glanced at the clock over his shoulder. “I should probably get back to my place,” you said gently. “Catch a couple hours of sleep before the next shift.”

Jack didn’t protest. Didn’t push. But something in his eyes softened—brief, quiet. “Thanks for the tea,” you added, standing slowly, reluctant but steady. “And for… this.”

He nodded once. “Anytime.” The way the word fell from his lips nearly made you buckle, its sincerity and weight almost begging you to stay. "Let me walk you back."

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “You don’t have to, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jack was already reaching for his jacket, eyes steady on you. “You’re never a bother.” His voice was quiet, but certain.

You stood there for a moment, hesitating, the edge of your nervousness still humming faintly beneath your skin. Jack grabbed his keys, adjusted his jacket, and the two of you headed downstairs. The cool air greeted you with a soft nip. Neither of you spoke at first. The afternoon light was soft and golden, stretching long shadows across the pavement. Your footsteps synced without effort, an easy rhythm between you. Shoulders brushed once. Then again. But neither of you moved away.

Not much was said on the walk back. But it didn’t need to be. When your building came into view, Jack slowed just a little, as if to make the last stretch last longer. 

“See you in a few hours?” The question came out hopeful but was the only one you were ever certain about when it came to Jack. 

He gave a small nod. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The ER was humming, a low-level chaos simmering just below the surface. Pages overhead, fluorescent lights too bright, the constant shuffle of stretchers and nurses and med students trying not to get in the way.

You and Jack found yourselves working a case together. A bad one. Blunt trauma, no pulse, field intubation, half a dozen procedures already started before the gurney even made it past curtain three. But the two of you moved in sync.

Same breath. Same rhythm. You knew where he was going before he got there. He didn’t have to ask for what he needed—you were already handing it to him.

Shen and Ellis exchanged a look from across the room, like they’d noticed something neither of you had said out loud.

“You two always like this?” Ellis asked under her breath as she passed by.

Jack didn’t look up. “Like what?”

Ellis just raised a brow and kept walking.

The case stabilized. Barely. But the moment stayed with you. In the rhythm. In the way your hands brushed when you reached for the same gauze. In the silence afterward that didn’t feel like distance. Just... breath.

You didn’t say anything when Jack handed you a fresh pair of gloves with one hand and bumped your elbow with the other.

But you smiled.

Days bled into nights and nights into shifts, but something about the rhythm stuck. Not just in the trauma bay, but outside of it too. You didn’t plan it. Neither did he. But one night—after a particularly brutal Friday shift that bled well past weekend sunrise, all adrenaline and sharp edges—you both found yourselves back at your place in the evening. 

You didn’t talk much. You didn’t need to.

Jack sank onto the couch with a low sigh, exhaustion settling into his bones. You brought him a blanket without asking, set a cup of tea beside him with a familiarity neither of you acknowledged aloud.

That night, he stayed. Not because he was too tired to leave. But because he didn’t want to. Because something about the quiet between you felt safer than anything waiting for him outside.

You were both sitting on the couch, talking—soft, slow, tired talk that came easier than it used to. The kind of conversation that filled the space without demanding anything. At some point, your head had tipped, resting against his shoulder mid-sentence, eyes fluttering closed with the weight of the day. Jack didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe too deep, afraid to disturb the way your warmth settled so naturally into his side.

Jack stayed beside you, feeling the soft rhythm of your breath rising and falling. His prosthetic was off, his guard lowered, and in that moment, he looked more like himself than he ever did in daylight. A part of him ached—subtle, quiet, but insistent. He hadn't realized how much he missed this. Not just touch, but presence. Yours. The kind of proximity that didn’t demand anything. The kind he didn’t have to earn.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, your arm brushing his knee. Jack froze. Then, carefully—almost reverently—he reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it gently over your shoulders. His fingers lingered at the edge, just for a second. Just long enough to feel the warmth of your skin through the fabric. Just long enough to remind himself this was real.

And then he leaned back, settled in again beside you.

Close. But not too close.

Present.

The morning light broke through the blinds.

You stirred.

His voice was gravel-soft. "Hey."

You blinked sleep from your eyes. Sat up. Found him still there, legs stretched out, back to the wall.

“You stayed,” you said.

He nodded.

Then, quietly, like it mattered more than anything:

“Didn’t want to be anywhere else.”

You smiled. Just a little.

He smiled back. Tired. Honest.

The first time you stayed at Jack's place was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Everything was fine—quiet, even—until late evening. Jack had a spare room, insisted you take it. You didn’t argue. The bed was firm, the sheets clean, the door left cracked open just a little.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You only remember the panic. The way it clutched at your chest like a vice, your lungs refusing to cooperate, your limbs kicking, flailing against an invisible force. You were screaming, you think. Crying, definitely. The dream was too much. Too close. The kind that reached down your throat and stayed.

Then—hands. Shaking your shoulders. Jack’s voice.

“Hey. Hey—wake up. It’s not real. You’re okay.”

You blinked awake, heart slamming against your ribs. Jack was already on the bed with you, hair a mess, eyes wide and terrified—but only for you. His hands were still on your arms, steady but gentle. Grounding.

Then one hand rose to cradle your cheek, cool fingers brushing the heat of your skin. Your face burned hot beneath the sweat and panic, and his touch was steady, careful, as if anchoring you back to the room. He brushed your hair out of your face, strands damp and stuck to your forehead, and tucked them back behind your ear. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. Just the quiet care of someone trying to reach you without pushing too far.

You tried to speak but couldn’t. Just choked on a sob.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

And you believed him.

Then, without hesitation, Jack brought you into his arms—tucked you against his chest and held you tightly, like you might disappear with the breeze. There was nothing hesitant about it, no second-guessing. Just the instinctive kind of closeness that came from someone who knew what it meant to need and be needed. He held you like a lifeline, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other firm across your back, steadying you both.

Eventually, your breathing slowed. The shaking stopped. Jack stayed close, his hand brushing yours, his body warm and steady like an anchor. He didn’t leave that night. Didn’t go back to his room. Just pulled the blanket over both of you and stayed, watching the slow return of calm to your chest like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered eventually, voice hoarse from the crying.

Jack’s gaze didn’t waver. He reached out, cupping your cheek again with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said firmly. Not unkind—never unkind. Just certain, like the truth of it had been carved into him long before this moment.

Jack and Robby greeted each other on the roof, half-drained thermoses in hand. Jack looked tired, but not in the usual way. Something about the edges of him felt… softened. Less on-edge. Lighter, one might say. Robby noticed.

“You’ve been less of a bastard lately,” he said around a mouthful of protein bar.

Jack raised a brow. “That a compliment?”

Robby grinned. “An observation. Maybe both.”

Jack shook his head, amused. But Robby kept watching him. Tipped his chin slightly. “You seem happier, brother. In a weird, not-you kind of way.”

Jack huffed a breath through his nose. Didn’t respond right away.

Then, Robby’s voice dropped just enough. “You find someone?”

Jack’s grip tightened slightly around his cup. He looked down at the liquid swirling at the bottom. He didn’t smile, not fully. But his silence said enough.

Robby nodded once, then looked away. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Thought so.”

"I didn’t say anything."

Robby snorted. “You didn’t have to. You’ve got that look.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What look?”

“The kind that says you finally let yourself come up for air.”

Jack stared at him for a second, then looked down at his cup again, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. Robby elbowed him lightly.

“Do I know her?” he asked, voice easy, teasing.

Jack gave a one-shouldered shrug, noncommittal. “Maybe.”

Robby narrowed his eyes. “Is it Shen?”

Jack scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

Robby laughed, loud and satisfied. “Had to check.” Then, after a beat, he said more quietly, “I’m glad, you know. That you found someone.”

Jack looked up, brows drawn. Robby shrugged, this time more sincere than teasing. “Don’t let go of it. Whatever it is. People like us... we don’t get that kind of thing often.”

Jack let the words hang in the air a moment, then gave a half-scoff, half-smile. “You getting sentimental on me, old man?”

Robby rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

But Jack’s smile faded into something gentler. Quieter. “I haven’t felt this... human in a while.”

Robby didn’t say anything to that. Just nodded, then bumped Jack’s shoulder with his own. Then he stretched his arms overhead, cracking his back with a groan. “Alright, lovebird. Let’s go pretend we’re functioning adults again.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but the smile lingered.

They turned back toward the stairwell, the sky above them soft with early light.

It all unraveled around hour 10.

A belligerent trauma case brought in after being struck by a drunk driver. Jack’s shoulders tensed when he saw the dog tags. Everyone knew vets were the ones that got to him the most. His jaw was set tight the whole time, his voice sharp, movements clipped. You’d worked with him long enough to see when he started slipping into autopilot: efficient, precise, but cold. Closed off.

He ordered a test you'd already confirmed had been done. When you gently reminded him, Jack didn’t even look at you—just waved you off with a sharp, impatient flick of his wrist. Then, louder—sharper—he snapped at Ellis. "Move faster, for fuck's sake."

His voice had that clipped edge to it now, the kind that made people tense. Made the room feel smaller. Ellis blinked but didn’t respond, just picked up the pace, brows furrowed. Shen gave you a quiet glance over the patient’s shoulder, something that looked almost like sympathy. Both of them looked to you after that—uncertain, searching for a signal or some kind of anchor. You saw it in their eyes: the silent question. What’s going on with Jack?

When you reached across the gurney to adjust the central line tubing, Jack barked, "Back off."

You froze. “Dr. Abbot,” you said, soft but firm. “It’s already in.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a split second, they looked wild—distant, haunted. “Then why are you still reaching for it?” he said, low and biting.

The air went still. Ellis looked up from the med tray, blinking. Shen awkwardly shifted his weight, silently assuring you that you'd done nothing wrong. The nurse closest to Jack turned her focus sharply to the vitals monitor.

You excused yourself and stepped out. Said nothing.

He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did. But he didn’t look back.

The patient coded minutes later.

And though the team moved in perfect sync—compressions, meds, lines—Jack was silent afterward, hands flexing at his sides, eyes on the floor. 

You didn’t speak when the shift ended.

A few nights later, he was at your door.

You opened it only halfway, unsure what to expect. The narrow gap between the door and the frame felt like the only armor you had—an effort to shelter yourself physically from the hurt you couldn’t name.

Jack stood there, exhausted. Worn thin. Still in scrubs, jacket over one shoulder. His face was hollowed out, cheeks drawn tight, and his eyes—god, his eyes—were wide and tired in that distinct, glassy way. Like he wasn’t sure if you’d close the door or let him stay. Like he already expected you would slam it in his face and say you never wanted to see him again.

“I shouldn’t have—” he started, then stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. “I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, but the words wouldn't come out. You were still upset. Still stewing. Not at the apology—never that. But at how quickly things between you could tilt. At how much it had hurt in the moment, to be dismissed like that. And how much it mattered that it was him.

His voice was quiet, but steady. “You were right. I wasn’t hearing you. And you didn’t deserve any of that.”

There was a beat of silence.

"I panicked,” he said, like it surprised even him. “Not just today. The patient—he reminded me of people I served with. The ones who didn’t make it back. The ones who did and never got better. I saw him and... I just lost it. Couldn’t separate the past from right now. And then I looked at you and—” he cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Being this close to something good... it scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to mess this up." 

Your heart thudded, painful and full.

“Then talk to me,” you said, voice thick with exhaustion. The familiar ache began to flood your throat. “Tell me how you feel. Something. Anything. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind, Jack. I have my own shit to deal with, and I get it if you’re not ready to talk about it yet, but—”

Your hand came up to your face, pressing against your forehead. “Maybe we should just talk tomorrow,” you muttered, already taking a step back to close the door. It was a clear attempt at avoidance, and Jack saw right through it.

“I think about you more than I should,” he said, voice low and rough. He stepped closer. Breath shallow. His eyes searched yours—frantic, pleading, like he was trying to gather the courage to jump off something high. “When I’m running on fumes. When I’m trying not to feel anything. And then I see you and it all rushes back in like I’ve been underwater too long." 

At this, you pulled the door open slightly to show that you were willing to at least listen. Jack was looking at the ground—something completely unlike him. He always met people’s eyes, always held his gaze steady. But not now. Now, he looked like he might fold in on himself if you so much as breathed wrong. He exhaled a short breath, relieved but not off the hook just yet. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered. “But I know what I feel when I’m around you. And it’s the only thing that’s made me feel like myself in a long time.”

He hesitated, just for a second, searching your face like he was waiting for permission. For rejection. For anything at all. You reached out first—tentative, your fingers lifting to his cheek. Jack froze at the contact, like his body had forgotten what it meant to be touched so gently. It was instinct, habit. But then he exhaled and leaned into your hand, eyes fluttering shut, like he couldn’t bear the weight of being seen and touched at once.

You studied him for a long moment, taking him in—how hard he was trying, how raw he looked under the dim light. Your thumb brushed beneath his eye, brushing softly along the curve of his cheekbone. When you pulled your hand away, Jack caught it gently and brought it back, pressing your palm against his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut like it hurt to be touched, like it cracked something open he wasn’t ready to see. Then—slowly—he leaned into it, like he didn’t know how to ask for comfort but couldn’t bring himself to pull away from it either.

Your breath caught. He was still holding your hand to his face like it anchored him to the ground.

You shifted slightly, unsure what to say. But you didn’t move away.

His hand slid down to catch yours fully, fingers interlacing with yours.

“I’m not good at this,” he said finally, voice rough and eyes locked onto you. “But I want to try. With you.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but what came out was a jumble of word salad instead.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you said, voice trembling. “I’m not—I'm not the kind of person who’s built for this. I fuck things up. I shut down. I push people away. And you…” Your voice cracked. You turned your face slightly, not pulling away, but not quite steady either. “You deserve better than—”

Jack pulled you into a bruising hug, arms wrapping tightly around you like he could hold the pain in place. One hand rose to cradle the back of your head, pulling you into his chest.

You were shaking. Tears, uninvited, welled in your eyes and slipped down before you could stop them.

“Fuck perfect,” he whispered softly against your temple. “I need real. I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand still resting against the side of your head. His gaze was glassy but steady, breathing shallow like the weight of what he’d just said was still settling in his chest.

You blinked through your tears, mouth parted, searching his face for hesitation—but there was none.

He leaned in again, slower this time.

And then—finally—he kissed you.

It started hesitant—like he was afraid to get it wrong. Or he didn’t know if you’d still be there once he crossed that line. But when your hand gripped the front of his jacket, pulling him in closer, it changed. The kiss deepened, slow but certain. His hands framed your face. One of your hands curled into the fabric at his waist, the other resting against his chest, feeling the quickened beat beneath your palm.

You stumbled backward as you pulled him inside, refusing to let go, your mouth still pressed to his like contact alone might keep you from unraveling. Jack followed without question, stepping inside as the door clicked shut on its own. He barely had time to register the space before your back hit the door with a soft thud, his mouth still moving against yours. You reached blindly to twist the lock, and when you did, he made a low sound—relief or hunger, you couldn’t tell.

He kicked off his shoes without looking, quick and efficient, like some part of him needed to shed the outside world as fast as possible just to be here, just to feel this. You jumped. He caught you. Your legs wrapped around his waist like muscle memory, hands threading through his hair, and Jack carried you down the hall like you weighed nothing. He didn't have to ask which door. He knew.

And when he laid you down on the bed, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t careless.

It was everything that had been building—finally, finally let loose.

It was all nerves and heat and breathlessness—everything held back finally finding its release.

When you pulled away just a little, foreheads touching, neither of you said anything at first. But Jack’s hands didn’t leave your waist. He just breathed—one breath, then another—before he whispered, “Are you sure?”

You frowned.

“This,” he clarified, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. If you’re not okay. If this is too much.”

Your hand came up again, brushing his cheek. “I’m sure.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, finally meeting them, and he asked softly, “Are you?”

You nodded, steadier this time. “Yes. Are you?”

Jack didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never been more sure about a damn thing in my life.”

And when you kissed him again, it wasn’t heat that came first—but a sense of comfort. Feeling safe.

Then came the warmth. The kind that started deep in your belly and coursed in your body and through your fingertips. Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, fingertips skating across skin like you were trying to memorize every inch. Jack's breath hitched, and he kissed you harder—desperate, aching. His hands were everywhere: your waist, your back, your jaw, grounding you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Clothes came off in pieces, scattered in the dark. Moonlight filtered in through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the bed through the blinds. It was the first time you saw all of him—truly saw him. The curve of his back, the line of his shoulders and muscles, the scars that marked the map of his body. You’d switched spots somewhere between kisses and breathless moans—Jack now lying on the bed, you straddling his hips, hovering just above him.

You reached out without thinking, fingertips ghosting over one of the thicker ones that carved down his side. Jack stilled. When you looked up at him, his eyes on yours—soft, wary, like he didn’t quite know how to breathe through the moment.

So you made your way down, gently, and kissed the scar. Then another. And another. Reverent. Wordless. He watched you the whole time, eyes glinting in the dim light, like he couldn't believe you were real.

When your lips met a sensitive spot by his hip, Jack’s breath caught. His hand found yours again, grounding him, keeping him here. Your name on his lips wasn’t just want—it was pure devotion. Every touch was careful, every kiss threaded with something deeper than just desire. You weren’t just wanted. You were known.

He worshipped you with his hands, his mouth, his body—slow, thorough, patient. The kind of touch that asked for nothing but offered everything. His palms mapped your skin like he’d been waiting to learn it, reverent in every pass, every pause. His lips lingered over every place you sighed, every place you arched, until you forgot where his body ended and yours began. It was messy and sacred and quiet and burning all at once—like he didn’t just want you, he needed you.

And you let him. You met him there—every movement, every breath—like your bodies already knew the rhythm. When it built, when it crested, it wasn’t just release. It was recognition. A return. Home. 

After the air cooled and the adrenaline had faded, he didn’t pull away. His hand stayed at your back, palm warm and steady where it pressed gently against your spine. You shifted only slightly, your leg draped over his, and your forehead found the crook of his neck. He smelled like your sheets and skin and the barest trace of sweat and his cologne.

He exhaled into the hush of the room, chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. His fingers traced lazy, absent-minded lines along your side, like he was still trying to memorize you even now.

You were both quiet, not because there was nothing to say, but because for once, there was nothing you needed to.

He kissed your lips—soft, lingering—then trailed down to your neck, his nose brushing your skin as he breathed you in. He paused, lips resting at the hollow of your throat. Then he kissed the top of your head. Just once.

And that was enough.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow. You stared at him, letting yourself really look—at the way the moonlight softened his features, at how peaceful he looked with his eyes half-lidded and his chest rising and falling against yours. Jack couldn’t seem to help himself. His fingers played with yours—tracing the length of each one like they were new, like they were a language he was still learning. He toyed with the edge of your palm, pressed his thumb against your knuckle, curled his pinky with yours. A man starved for contact who had finally found somewhere to rest.

When he finally looked up, you met him with a smile.

"What now?" you asked softly, voice quiet in the hush between you. It wasn’t fear, not quite. Just a small seed of worry still gnawing at your ribs. 

Jack studied your face like he already knew what you meant. He let out a soft breath. His hand moved carefully, brushing a stray hair from your face before cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

"Now," he said, "I keep showing up. I keep choosing this. You. Every day."

Your lips pressed together in a shy smile, trying to hold back the sudden sting behind your eyes. You shook your head slowly, swallowing the emotion that threatened to rise.

He tilted his head a little, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Are you sick of me yet?"

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Not even close."

His fingers tightened gently around yours.

"Good," Jack murmured. "Because I’m not letting you go."

And just like that, the quiet turned soft. For once, hope felt like something you could hold.

You fell asleep with his arm draped over your waist, your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. His breaths were deep and even, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that calmed your own. Neither of you had nightmares that night. No thrashing. No waking in a cold sweat. Just quiet. Any time you shifted, he instinctively pulled you closer. You drifted together into sleep, breaths falling in sync—slow, steady, safe.

And for the first time, the dark didn’t feel so heavy.

thank you for reading 💛

<3 - <3 - <3 - <3

[mit0bee]

ℍ𝕌𝕊𝔹𝔸ℕ𝔻!

Calling the twst boys your husband!

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

warnings: fem!reader, no beta we die like men, yuu!reader, harassment (leonas part), pre-book 7 malleus

a/n: hi im very sick take this unfinished work from my drafts (I PROMISE ILL MAKE MORE OF THIS I JUST CANT LOOK AT A SCREEN ANYMORE 💔) plz tell me if theres any inaccuracies since i do not have the energy to read it through

also it got glitched out this morning when i tried to use my phone to finish it so now theres bullet points everywhere

It wasn't actually intentional when you called him your husband, more of a spur of the moment thing.

During a (n unwilling) adventure to Sam's, a guy had come up to you. Of course, being the mysterious transfer from another world had garnered you some popularity. One such consequence were people like him.

"Hey. You're that transfer girl, right?" The boy asked. He looked like a badly designed sleazeball from a basic anime; dyed hair, quite a few piercings, and a look on his face that just screamed incel.

"Uh. Yeah." You looked between the milk you had in your hand, the guy, and Leona, who was out of earshot, eyeing a selection of meat Sam had on display. "Why?" You could practically feel the dread in your gut. He obviously wasn't trying to be friends. Or, at least, not the good kind of friends.

"I was just wondering..." Smirking, he took a few steps to close the gap between the two of you, "Some of my friends and I were going to have a little party down in the woods behind the school. We could use some entertainment."

"Er...." Your head tilted downwards in fluster. This guy didn't seem like the type to take no for an answer. Even if you tried to pull the 'I have a boyfriend', he probably wouldn't listen, "My.... husband and I had plans." You blurted out. It was a split second decision, but there was no way this guy would go after a married woman. Right?

"Oh, husband." You shot Leona a look; one that begged for help. He turned from where he had been very focused, and noticed the sleazy guy pestering you. His ears flattened against his head, and his expression shifted from curiosity to irritation. "Come over here."

The nameless guy looked very close to pissing himself when he saw just who you were referring to. The Leona Kingscholar. But he had a wife? Since when?!

"Oh. Uh. Him?" The guy asked, almost unbelieving. There was no way someone like him would be tied down. He could barely go to class, much less commit to someone!

But, as if by fate, the lazy lion gave a smug smirk and rested his hand over your shoulder. "What's up, wife?" He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "This guy buggin' ya?"

You smiled knowingly, "I don't know. Are you?" Your tone wasn't one to be underestimated. All three of you knew what was going down. The only difference between You and Leona, and the guy was that the guy couldn't do anything to refute your claim.

"N-No, ma'am!" The guy stiffened, which made Leona let out a huff of amusement, "I'll be on my way now!" He announced, running off with his tail between his legs.

You and Leona were left in silence for the next few moments, both of you not wanting or having anything to say. It was Leona, though, who broke the silence.

"Husband?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." You faced your lover with redder cheeks than before, "He was getting on my nerves, and it was the quickest way for him to leave me alone." You sighed, your eyes trailing from Leonas emerald ones to the wooden floor of the shop, "I know we haven't talked about it. Sorry..."

Leona rolled his eyes at your change in demeanor. You went from confident to bashful in only the span of a minute or two. "Whaddya talking about? I never said I wouldn't mind getting married, so don't apologize." He stated, keeping his arm around your shoulders.

"Wha...?" You gazed back up at him with shock, your mouth slightly ajar. You would accept him not wanting to get married, and it was a real possibility you had prepared for in the past. Now he's stating he might want to?

He didn't explain further, and opted to (surprisingly gently) lead you out of the store. "Let's go." He said, "I'll get Ruggie to finish the trip."

------------

"Sam. What is this?"

"It's a wedding present, my little imp!" Sam presented you with a large purple box. It had a glittery black ribbon tied into a perfect bow at its plateau. "Don't think I didn't see what you and the Savanaclaw housewarden were doing in my shop a few days ago!"

You took the box carefully. Knowing Sam, just about anything could be inside. It could be the best thing you could ever receive, but it also could be a load of crap you'd never use.

"Look here!" Sam lifted up two items from inside the box. One was an iridescent stone, while the other looked like a black ticket with gold accents. He held out the stone, "This one is a lucky charm! Perfect for newlyweds, right?" Then, he held out the ticket, "And this gets you a 1% discount at any Sam's Mystery Shop locations in all of Twisted Wonderland! Terms and Conditions apply."

You smiled, but felt the irritation in your body growing. You and Leona weren't actually getting married. It was just a topic of discussion now. But, the items might come in handy around Ramshackle, and you'd take all the help you could get. It wasn't like everything would be useless, right?

You decided to grit your teeth and bear it, "Thank you, Sam. Really." You let him place the two items back in the box, "We'll be sure to use all of this." You quickly turned on your heel to escape.

"Oh, and tell the kitty I said hi!" He called out as you left. Once you were gone, he placed a hand on his cheek with a sigh.

"Ah, young love."

Azul has a lot of business partners.

With all of those partners comes lots of exhausting meetings. His only escape from all of it is you.

Though, that doesn't mean your opposed to playing a prank or two on him to lift his spirits.

Azul dropped down onto his (your shared at this point) bed, and you couldn't help the snicker that you let out at this rare side of him.

"Rough day?" You asked. One of your hands dropped from your book to find purchase in his hair. He let out a relaxed groan, slowly moving his way from the side of the bed to lay on top of you.

"You wouldn't believe. Dozens of grown men and not even one can solve a simple problem." He sighed, remembering the horrid, stale meeting he had to endure, "They're leading me to believe most landers are like this."

You closed your book with a crisp clap, setting it on the safe right by his bed. Instead, you devoted your time to messing with his well-kept hair. "Not all of them. I'm an exception, right? As your wife?"

"That's true-" He paused, your words sinking on him like a heavy weight. His face exploded into a coral pink, and he inelegantly picked himself up onto all fours, looking into your eyes with confusion and maybe a little glee. "What...? Wife..? As in- Us?" One of his hands frantically pointed between the two of you.

"Unless you don't want to get married to a foolish lander." Pouting, you knew he'd take the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. "It's fine. I get it. Species racism, you know?"

Desperately, he shook his head. "No! That's not it at all!" He brought his face dangerously close to yours, "I just wasn't expecting it." As if realizing how close you were, he averted his eyes from yours, "...I was supposed to receive my grandmothers ring. After graduation."

After such an honest confession, you felt your resolve for the prank crumble into a million pieces. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, earning a surprised yelp from him. "Azul!" Is all you could manage to articulate.

"....Y-Yes, my love?" His voice was muffled from being so close to you, but you could still hear the worry in his tone. It didn't make you feel any more calm, though, and you squeezed him even harder.

"I think we need to get married right now."

"What?!"

-------------

The next morning was surprisingly uneventful. The only thing you could notice of slight difference was the weird looks you got from the twins, and the slightly softer way Azul treated you. It was only that evening that everything shifted on its axis.

You were waiting in Mostro for Azul to finish with some contracts. Not wanting to bother him, you waited in the main dining area, lone in a booth. Only lone for a while, though, as the aforementioned Leech twins came strolling up with knowing smirks.

"So..." Floyd started, "Miss Ashengrotto, huh?" He sat right next to you, "You apparently had a whole spectacle last night. Very romantic."

"Just make sure you both don't forget us as newlyweds." Jade engaged in the teasing too, but didn't sit nearly as close. "We'd be very lonely. Right, Floyd?"

"Yup. Anyway. Baby names."

"Huh?!"

"Floyd Junior has a nice ring to it."

"Or Jade Junior."

"What are you three talking about?"

"........"

"We should leave. Come on, Floyd." Jade stood up, taking Floyd by the arm and dragging him out of the booth.

"Yeah. Have fun, lovebirds."

"So..." You smiled sheepishly, "How is my fantastic husband doing?" You said, just loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity to whip their heads around and gawk.

"Please." Azul chuckled, "I'm good. How is my beautiful wife?"

"Ready to give you a baby." You whispered.

"Slow down!"

on one of the rare times idia actually went out of his room, it was for this limited deluxe edition of a game he had been waiting for for months.

problem was, it was an in-store only promo. if he wanted the game, he'd have to endure the stress of other people.

if only to make the trip a little less painful on his cortisol receptors, he decided to invite you to join him.

the store was packed. like the only reason the two of you got in was because you had waited there for at least five hours before it opened.

even then, it took another hour or two to actually get to the checkout with two copies of the game in hand.

it was at the checkout that the incident happened.

after being out and waiting for almost half your day, you had obviously gotten bored.

and what better cure for your boredom than to play a silly little prank on your unsuspecting boyfriend?

"You two excited for the release?" The clerk asked. He looked obviously exhausted, but kept a weary smile and his tone light. "I hear this ones better than the prequel. Bugs and cheeses have all been patched."

You nodded enthusiastically, deciding that now was the time to enact your totally thought-out plan, "Yup! My husband and I are going to have a little gaming date. Right, Id-" You turned to your boyfriend, stopping your sentence midway through. He looked like his entire brain shut off, hair lit up a bright pink and his face dusted with a blush to rival even the reddest tone. If he was a cartoon, he'd have steam coming out of his ears and the top of his skull would come up like a geyser.

"I- Um- My-" He couldn't even utter a single sentence. "My wife-" He gestured to you. Eventually, he gave up on even trying to articulate himself, slammed the required thaumark bills on the counter, and made his way out of there as quickly as he could. Unceremoniously, he shoved you (with surprising gentleness considering how clumsy he was being) into the passenger seat of his rarely used car, and quickly turned to book it into the drivers seat.

The two of you sat there in silence for a minute or two. His expression was unreadable, and you couldn't tell if it was upset, excitement, or anxiety.

He finally broke the silence with a mumble. ".... -married?"

"I couldn't hear you, hun. What'd you say?"

"I said.... -get married?"

"My love. Please speak up."

"I SAID, DO YOU REALLY WANT TO GET MARRIED?!"

"......."

"........"

"What...?"

"You know. Because I'm not very marriage material...?" His statement was more of a question, and he turned away from you in shame, "I mean, there are all of those princes at NRC. SS+ level otome MMC's."

"Idia."

"I was just thinking you'd rather them."

"Idia."

"I mean, there's, like, a million of them." He fiddled with the bottom hem of his hoodie in embarrassment. God, if he could just hide in a hole forever-

"IDIA!" You snapped, taking him by the shoulders and forcing him to look at you, "I don't want them. I want you." Putting on your best comforting smile, you leaned over the gearbox to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "I woke up at five A.M. for this. If that doesn't make it clear that I'd want you and only you, then maybe me saying it to your face will."

If it was even possible his hair got even wilder and even pinker. It was a miracle it didn't set everything in the car on fire. "A-Are you sure...?" He half-whispered, half-squeaked.

You nodded, placing a hand on his cheek. Your other hand rested on the gearbox so you could lean closer to him. "Dead serious."

Idia's cheeks lit up pink, and all of the blue that had been slowly returning to his firey hair vanished, being replaced by the previous pink once more. "L-Let's just get back to NRC..." He managed to mumble out.

Malleus wasn't the most expressive person. When a simple upset could smite an entire family, the benefits of feeling anger or ecstasy paled in comparison to the concequences.

That wasn't to say he didn't have his moments, though.

Your plan was simple; when Malleus least expected it, you'd call him by the sweet nickname, and watch his head explode. Or, at least, show some more feeling than slightly pleased or slightly upset.

The two of you were walking the halls of NRC almost ritualistically. It had become a routine for Malleus to meet you outside of your classes and escort you to your next one. He was so dedicated that not even most urgencies could prevent him from seeing you. You had asked him a few weeks prior on why he was so devoted, but he only responded with a cryptic 'it's my duty'.

Arriving at your classroom, you leaned up and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. "Thank you, husband." You whispered. You expected him to react in a giddy manner, but quite the contrary, he only reciprocated your smile and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"You're welcome, my wife." He smiled just a little more than he usually did. "I must get to my own class. I'll see you afterwards." And with that, he waved off a confused you.

He didn't even seem to be bothered by the nickname. What's more, is that he called you his wife! Last you checked, you weren't married! Was he just playing along? Or was he trying to retort your prank in his own way? You were supposed to be pranking him!

-----------

Your mind raced with possibilities for the entire time you were in class. It got so bad that Trein had to reprimand you in front of all of your peers. But, in your defense, how were you supposed to focus?! The only solace you got was the dismissal bell, knowing you'd be able to see your fae lover once more.

When you exited the class, Malleus was waiting in front of the door as per usual. He unconsciously and unintentionally was splitting the student body in half like a stone in a river. They avoided him as best they could, knowing full well he was here for you.

"My beloved." He strode his way up to you, the black current of people moving in reaction, "Was your class satisfactory?" He took your hand in his. The two of you had a little extra time now in your schedules due to your paired spare periods (courtesy of the oh-so generous Headmage Crowley. He was definitely not intimidated by a certain dragon fae into it. No sir, no ma'am).

"Mhm." You peered into his eyes thoughtfully, trying to read just what exactly had happened earlier. If it had been a prank on his part, surely there'd be some evidence of amusement, right? You stared like this all the way into the courtyard, where he finally noticed with a furrowed brow and slight pout.

"Something is troubling you."

Oops. You were caught, "It's nothing. Really." You tried to soothe his worries, but your attempts were in vain and only made him worry more.

"You're lying to me." He stopped in his tracks, causing you to turn to face him. He crossed his arms in an almost childlike fashion, "You shouldn't be trying to suffer alone. As your husband I have a duty to help you, do I not?"

With his final sentence, you couldn't help but sigh. You obviously wouldn't get answers from him by just staring. He was as straight faced as a stone cold killer.

"....Can I ask you a question...?" You requested hesitantly. Maybe it was just nothing. If the two of you were just in an unspoken prank war, it might be best to not bring it up.

"Yes." He answered instantaneously, almost before you got your question out. "Anything."

"Are you calling me your wife as a joke?" You blurted out the entire question at once. Luckily, the courtyard was mostly empty to protect you from your blunder, but it was nonetheless embarrassing, "I mean, I was doing it as a silly little prank. Then you did it too. You sounded so serious when you said it, too." You averted your gaze, wanting to look anywhere but at your lover. In your peripheral vision you saw him grow more confused than worried now. Rather than his brow being furrowed in concern, it was furrowed in thought.

It took a moment for him to speak. He tilted his head, as if it would help in deciphering the code you just tossed in his face, "We are betrothed, are we not? We haven't had a wedding yet, so we aren't in technical terms husband and wife. But, you have begun to call me your husband. In turn, I assumed you wanted me to refer to you as my wife."

You froze. He thought you were what? As far as you could remember, he didn't give you any indicator as to being engaged up until now!

"Hold on." You were so confused and shocked that your embarrassment ebbed away quickly. You looked him up and down. Were cameras going to pop out from behind a bench? A tree, perhaps? "I wasn't told anything about being engaged. When did this happen?"

His tone only grew more confused now, "A few weeks prior. You were accepting my courtship advances. The necklace you received was one of betrothal." He stated simply, "It was one from my personal collection, and you accepted it. Is that not a common proposal where you're from?"

"NO?! Malleus, where I'm from, people propose with a ring and ask if they will marry them!"

".....I see. This is quite the conundrum." He placed a hand on his chin, "Am I to cancel the wedding plans, then?" He looked almost sad at the prospect. You could tell immediately that this was something he had been planning since that night he gifted you that silver necklace.

You sighed again, this time bigger and heavier, "....I mean..." You didn't want to let him down, but it all felt too fast! "Maybe don't cancel them persay..." His mood drastically improved at your words. Optimism was a powerful tool, and he was using it right to his advantage.

"Maybe we can do things from my culture now?" You continued, "Once you propose in the human way, then we can start planning our wedding together." You thought this was a fair compromise. He already proposed with fae customs, but you weren't exactly ready to rush into a wedding dress. If things could be held off for at least a few more months, you'd have time to adequately settle into the reality.

Your words didn't come close to deterring Malleus. He nodded with more enthusiasm than ever. "I shall dedicate myself to the education and study of human ways. I will plan out a human proposal posthaste." He looked at you with a fire in his eyes. One you hadn't seen too often, but enough to recognize, you knew what it meant. He only got this look when he was so hellbent on succeeding that it'd take all of Twisted Wonderland to prevent him from reaching his goals.

You'd let out a monster, and you knew it. All you could do now was pray for your survival.

------------------------

A few days later, you were chatting casually with your regular quartet of Ace, Deuce, Grim in the cafeteria. But, your comfortable conversation was abruptly interrupted by a scream.

"HUMAN!!!!!!" You jumped at the sound, immediately recognizing it to be only one person.

"Sebek? Is something the matter?"

"MY LORD HAS DECIDED TO PROPOSE TO YOU ONCE MORE!!!!" He exclaimed, his volume far too high even in the large room. "YOU MUST LOOK THE PART WHEN HE APPROACHES YOU!" Without a second beat, he started dusting you off, nitpicking your appearance down to the lint on your shoulder.

Being friend with Sebek long enough had let you into his mind. You knew he was happy for you, and just expressing it in his own unique way. He had long since come to terms with your relationship, and had even come to support it (again, in his own way).

"Hold on..."

"No way..."

"Huh?!"

All three of your friends in front of you had gaping mouths, utterly shocked. They all yelled at the same time, their tones fearful and confused.

"My henchman..."

"You, of all people..."

"Prefect is...."

"GETTING MARRIED?!"

Oh lord. This'll be fun to explain.

[xjulixred45x]

Imagine an adult Yuu who arrived at Twisted Wonderland PREGNANT.

This could be considered part of the Yuu! Parent variables (?). Perhaps the poor woman was returning from an early ultrasound (at 2 or 3 months old) when the black carriage hit her, scaring her to death upon her appearance in TWST. She must have thought she was about to be sacrificed to a cult.

I can definitely imagine the Squad characters being much more understanding/soft of this Yuu, especially Ace and Deuce. Ace wouldn't be so malicious at the beginning of the game (I'd like to believe that not even he would be capable of laughing in the face of a pregnant woman), and instead feels obvious guilt because Crowley has entrusted her with a mediocre job.

Deuce, my sweet boy, will set off all his alarm bells. He's the most outraged that the headmaster is forcing a pregnant woman to work ALONE, and if his dorm leader hadn't been so strict in the beginning, he definitely wouldn't let Yuu sleep in a dorm that's falling apart. Has Crowley gone crazy? Does he have no shred of decency?!

Grim probably thought at first that Yuu had eaten her baby, haha, and had to receive the wonderful "birds and the bees" lecture (much to Ace's amusement at Grim's horrified reactions). Let's just say Grim now insists on standing sentry in case Yuu decides to do anything too "dangerous for the baby" (humans are fragile even with magic; he has to take care of his minion!).

Jack, bless him, also tries to help make the ramshackle dorm safer alongside Epel, whether by removing the most rotten parts of the structure, helping clean, assisting with Yuu's errands, etc. Especially when she starts showing more of her bump.

GOD, IMAGINE THE DORM LEADERS!

Riddle was probably the only one who didn't realize Yuu was pregnant until the events of the Savanaclaw episode. And when he found out he almost seriously hurt a PREGNANT WOMAN? Trey and Cater practically had to keep him from banging his head against a wall for half an hour out of embarrassment and shame. He also drafted a LONG apology for Yuu, which was delivered with a giant strawberry cake (and one of those exaggerated bows I KNOW Riddle would do).

Thanks to his mom (for once in his life), Riddle is the most knowledgeable about useful pregnancy stuff! Whenever Yuu goes to Heartslabyul, she has access to calcium- and iron-rich meals (prepared by Trey), and teas that boost her immune system and combat morning sickness. Riddle is careful not to give her things like black tea or rosemary tea, knowing they could have negative effects (if it were up to Riddle, Yuu probably wouldn't walk unaided).

Leona is much more respectful to a female Yuu, we know that, but I don't think he has the energy to be rude, or be especially , well, Leona, to a PREGNANT woman. This ends up bringing out a side of Leona no one thought existed: an almost delicate side. Sure, he's still lazy and sarcastic, but he doesn't say no to Yuu when she asks for help with something, whether it's bringing something to her dorm or dealing with a difficult situation. he dosent even COMPLAIN. what did he do to the real Leona??

We all know Crowley doesn't give Yuu and Grim enough money to live comfortably, let alone considering they could soon have a new member on ramshakle. Yuu is now surprised to find extra money in the dorm after certain visits. Not that he'll admit it, but it makes everyone feel more at ease.

Again, I want to believe Azul wouldn't be capable of leaving a pregnant woman homeless, at the very least he offered her a place to stay in Octavinelle. It turns out the twins (especially Floyd) quickly took a liking to Yuu.

A cute scenario I came up with, when Yuu already has a prominent baby bump, is that she tries to joke with the Leechs that the nickname "shrimpy" doesn't suit her anymore, and that maybe they should change it to "whaley."

AND FLOYD IS LIKE, "Why are you saying that, Koebi-chan? :( Is someone calling you that? Come on, tell me :)"

I think the Octavinelle folks genuinely don't know how human pregnancy works, so they're surprisingly gentle and caring with Yuu (even when the baby is born, I can see Monster Lounge having a kids' menu for them).

Kalim, my god, Jamil is going to have to stop him from giving Yuu a completely equipped nursery for both her and the baby. Ironically, the one who's the most normal about pregnancy (the guy has 30 younger siblings, so he KNOWS about these things) and genuinely knows some home tricks that helped his mother when she was pregnant.

offers to organize a baby shower/gender reveal party! The bad thing is that it ends up being a whole festival with all of Scarabia participating. But hey, it's the thought that counts.

There's no way Yuu, who's already 6-7 months along, will wear the school uniform simply for comfort, so if you need help finding comfortable AND cute clothes, Vil will gladly help! Obviously, he's not as strict or harsh with Yuu due to the circumstances, but he still wants the best for her. Who knows, maybe they can pick out some clothes for the baby in advance.

Idia is afraid to get close to Yuu, not only because of social anxiety, but because of the thought that he might "ruin" the baby in some way. He needs a lot of support from Ortho and Yuu to even allow himself to have normal physical contact with Yuu, and just as he does, the baby kicks. Idia's heart is gone (everyone wants to feel the kicks now, especially Ace, Floyd, and Malleus).

They probably use some STYX or Ortho equipment for some of the baby checks, and he even gives an approximate due date, which feels bittersweet. Even if everyone does their best, Yuu still hoped to have his baby at home, but he doesn't complain when the boys do all this for them. It feels like Home.

Malleus is another who doesn't fully understand human pregnancy and is incredibly intrigued. It doesn't help that Lilia's answers to his questions are even more confusing, so he ends up going straight to the source of his intrigue, Yuu. Malleus is completely mesmerized the first time he hears the baby's heartbeat, completely fascinated by what human life is like compared to fairies/dragons.

That said, he proceeds to "scold" the baby when it kicks Yuu for "hurting its mother," not quite understanding the concept, but he has the spirit. Malleus is very scared of the idea of childbirth once he's educated on it (WHERE will the baby come out? HOW!?) and will probably try to improve his healing magic SOLELY because of that.

All I can say is that if the baby is born in Twisted Wonderland, they'll have a wide array of adoptive siblings, father figures, babysitters, and weird and eccentric uncles who will take very good care of them and its mother. So you can rest easy.

__________

(ESPAÑOL)

Imagínate una Yuu adulta que llego a Twisted Wonderland estando EMBARAZADA

Esto podría considerarse parte de las variables de Yuu! Parent(?)Talvez la pobre mujer estaba regresando de un ultrasonido de los primeros meses (2 o 3 meses) cuando el carruaje negro le paso por encima, dándole un susto de muerte cuando apareció en TWST. La pobre mujer debio pensar que estaba a punto de ser sacrificada a un culto.

Definitivamente puedo ver a los personajes del Squad mucho mas suaves con esta Yuu, especialmente Ace y Deuce. Ace no sería tan malicioso al principio del juego (digo, quiero creer que incluso el no seria capaz de reírse en la cara de una mujer embarazada) y más bien siente una obvia lastima de que Crowley le haya metido en un trabajo mediocre.

Deuce, mi dulce niño, le disparan todas las alarmas. Es el más obviamente indignado de que el director haga trabajar a una mujer embarazada SOLA, y definitivamente si su líder de dormitorio no fuera tan estricto al principio, no dejaría que Yuu durmiera en un dormitorio que se cae a pedazos ¿¡que acaso Crowley perdió la cabeza, no tiene el mínimo de decencia?!

Grim probablemente al principio pensó que Yuu se había comido a su bebe lol, y le tuvieron que dar la maravillosa charla de las “aves y las abejas” (para diversión de Ace por las reacciones horrorizadas de Grim). Solo digamos que ahora Grim insiste en actuar como centinela en caso de que Yuu se le ocurra hacer algo demasiado “peligroso para él bebe” (los humanos son frágiles aun si magia ¡tiene que cuidar a su secuaz!).

Jack, bendito sea, también trata de ayudar en hacer el dormitorio destartalado mas seguro junto a Epel, ya sea quitando las partes mas podridas de la estructura, ayudando a limpiar, ayudar con los mandados de Yuu, etc. Especialmente cuando empieza a mostrar mas la panza de embarazada.

DIOS, IMAGINENSE LOS LIDERES DE DORMITORIO.

Riddle probablemente fue el único que no llego a darse cuenta que Yuu estaba embarazada hasta los eventos del capítulo de Savanaclaw ¿y cuando se enteró que casi lastimo gravemente a una MUJER EMBARAZADA? Trey y Cater tuvieron que físicamente detenerlo de que se golpeara la cabeza contra la pared por media hora por la vergüenza, también redacto un documento LARGUISIMO de disculpa a Yuu, que fue entregado con una gran tarta de fresa (y una de esas reverencias exageradas que SE que Riddle haría).

¡Gracias a su madre (por una vez en la vida), Riddle es el que sabe más de cosas útiles para el embarazo! Cada vez que Yuu va Heartslabyul, tienen acceso a comidas nutritivas en calcio y hierro (hechas por Trey), Tés beneficiosos para el sistema inmune y para combatir las náuseas matutinas, aparte de que Riddle es cuidadoso de no dar cosas como Te negro o romero, sabiendo que podrían tener malos efectos (si fuera por Riddle, Yuu probablemente no caminaría sin ayuda).

Leona es bastante más respetuoso con una Yuu mujer, eso lo sabemos, pero no creo que tenga la energía para ser grosero o especialmente, bueno, Leona, con una mujer EMBARAZADA. Esto termina sacando un lado que nadie creía que existía de Leona, un lado casi delicado. Claro, sigue siendo perezoso y sarcástico, pero no le dice que no a Yuu cuando le pide ayuda en algo, ya sea llevar algo a su dormitorio o con una situación difícil.

Todos sabemos que Crowley no da ni de lejos el dinero suficiente para que Yuu y Grim vivan bien, mucho menos pensando que PODRIAN TENER UN NUEVO INTEGRANTE PRONTO, por lo que Yuu ahora se sorprende después de ciertas visitas, aparece algo de dinero extra en el dormitorio. No es como que lo vaya a admitir, pero todos están más tranquilos de esa forma.

De nuevo, quiero creer que Azul no sería capaz de dejar sin hogar a una mujer embarazada, aunque sea le ofrecería una estancia en Octaville, ya que, además, resulta que los gemelos (especialmente Floyd) se encariñaron con Yuu muy rápido.

Un escenario lindo que se me ocurrió, ya cuando Yuu tiene una panza de embarazada prominente, es que ella trata de bromear con los Leech de que el apodo “camarón” ya no le queda bien, y que a lo mejor tendrían que cambiarlo a “ballena”

Y FLOYD ESTA COMO “¿Por qué dices eso Koebi-chan?  ¿alguien te está diciendo asi? Vaaaamos, dímelo ”

Creo que genuinamente los de Octaville no saben muy bien cómo funciona el embarazo terrestre, por lo que son sorprendentemente gentiles y cuidadosos con Yuu (incluso cuando nace el bebe, puedo ver el Monstre Louge teniendo un menú infantil para ellos).

Kalim, dios mio, Jamil tendrá que detenerlo de regalarle a Yuu absolutamente toda una guardería completamente equipada tanto para ella como para el bebe. Irónicamente el que es el mas normal al respecto del embarazo (el man tiene 30 hermanos menores, el SABE de estas cosas) y genuinamente sabe algunos trucos caseros que le sirvieron a su madre cuando ella estaba embarazada.

¡ofrece organizar un baby shower/ fiesta de revelación de genero! Lo malo es que termina siendo todo un festival en el que participa todo Scarabia. Pero hey, la intención es lo que cuenta.

No hay forma en la que estando ya en los 6-7 meses Yuu use el uniforme de la escuela por simple cuestión de comodidad, por lo que si necesitan ayuda en encontrar ropa cómoda Y bonita ¡Vil le ayudara con gusto! Obviamente no es tan estricto ni duro con Yuu debido a las circunstancias, pero sigue queriendo lo mejor para ella. Quien sabe, talvez puedan elegir algo de ropa para él bebe de adelantado.

Idia tiene miedo de acercarse a Yuu, no solo por la ansiedad social, sino por la idea de que podría “arruinar” al bebe de alguna forma. Necesita mucho apoyo de Ortho y Yuu para siquiera permitirse tener contacto físico con Yuu de forma normal, y justo cuando lo hace, el bebe patea. A Iidia se le salió el alma del cuerpo (ahora todos quieren sentir las pataditas, sobretodo Ace, Floyd y Malleus).

Probablemente usan algo de equipo de STYX o Ortho para algunos controles del bebe, incluso el da una fecha aproximada de nacimiento, lo cual da una sensación agridulce. Aun si todos hacen su mejor esfuerzo, Yuu esperaba poder tener a su bebe en casa, pero no se queja cuando los chicos hacen todo esto por ellos.

Malleus es otro que no entiende el embarazo humano completamente y esta increíblemente intrigado, no ayuda que as respuestas de Lilia a sus preguntas son aún más confusas, por lo que termina lleno a la fuente de su intriga, Yuu. Malleus se queda completamente hipnotizado la primera vez que escucha los latidos del bebe, totalmente fascinado por cómo es la vida humana en comparación a las hadas/dragones.

Eso sí, procede a “reprender” al bebe cuando patea a Yuu por “lastimar a su madre”, no entendiendo bien el concepto, pero tiene el espíritu. A Malleus le asusta mucho la idea del parto una vez que se educa al respecto (¿Qué el bebe saldrá DE DONDE? ¡¿COMO!?) y probablemente trate de mejorar en magia curativa UNICAMENTE por eso.

Solo puedo decir que si el bebe nace en Twisted Wonderland, tendrá un vasto abanico de hermanos adoptivos, figuras paternas, niñeros, tíos raros y extravagantes que lo cuidaran muy bien a él y su madre. Así que pueden estar tranquilos.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 2

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other? Ortho's part is platonic as always.

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 2 Tsumsitters (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland 2 Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 600 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

Azul's part is different from the one I wrote for the request. At the time the event had not yet reached the English server, if I'm not mistaken.

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 3 (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

CONTEXT: Like the original Twisted Tsumderland 2 event, this takes place after the events of the first Twisted Tsumderland. And, surprise, your Tsum is back! But it's the only one, all the other Tsums that came with it are completely new visitors.

You were with your Tsum in the lounge of Ramshackle Dorm, and it wouldn't leave the window as if it was waiting for something. You ask if it wants to go somewhere, but it shakes its head and continues looking out the window.

A short time later you heard a loud bang at the front door as if something had been thrown at it, and your Tsum finally leaves the window and hops towards the door. Even before you open the door, you can hear Ace laughing and Deuce complaining.

When you open it, you find Deuce struggling to contain his Tsum who is trying to break free from his arms.

“Sorry (Y/N).” Deuce apologizes “I can't contain this guy. It started running... or hopping, like crazy when it realized we were going to pass by here.”

Your Tsum makes that cute tsum noise to get the attention of Deuce and his tsum. The two look down and their eyes light up as they see your Tsum. Deuce’s tsum breaks free from Deuce's arms and lands right next to your Tsum. And the two tsums begin to rub their little faces and noses against each other. Deuce blushes automatically.

Ace, who watched the whole scene, stopped laughing and was now looking at the tsums with a sulky face. “Oi? What's up now with this guy?” he questions.

“I-I-I don't know.” It's the only thing Deuce can say in response.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Ace continues. “Your Tsum came back? Why? Our housewarden's didn't. Neither did Cater's.”

You say you don't know.

“Maybe your tsum is dragged into everyone's messes too.” Deuce says, smiling. “Not even it has a break with us, hum?”

Your Tsum headbutts Deuce's Tsum to get its attention, taps one of its little hands on the ground 5 times and Deuce's Tsum realizes the urgency of something. The two tsums start hopping towards the gate.

“OI! WHERE ARE YOU GOING NOW?” Deuce shouted.

The three of you run after the Tsums, but they reach the Hall of Mirrors first and go through the mirror to Heartslabyul.

“Well, on the one hand they saved us work.” Ace says.

“Yes, but they are on the loose!” Deuce replies.

You go through the mirror, run a little further and stop abruptly when you come across Riddle and Trey. Your tsums were close to their feet and were still very close to each other.

“See? They arrived on time.” Trey says. “They must have just had a little mishap with the tsums. Right?”

Ace and Deuce confirm. Riddle welcomes you and invites you to the Unbirthday Party that will be happening soon. He also tells Ace and Deuce to go do their party preparation duties. After he and Trey leave, Deuce realizes what happened.

“I get it now. Your tsum was telling mine the time, and warning it that we were going to be late.”

“Damn, even your Tsum needs two Tsumsitters.” Ace laughs. And Deuce-tsum hits him.

When it was preparing to hit him a second time, your Tsum got in the way and started rubbing its face against Deuce-tsum’s, calming it down.

“See my point?” Ace adds, and this time it's your Tsum that hits him.

You were walking through the school hallways, with your Tsum in your arms, when you crossed paths with Floyd. He automatically smiled when he saw your Tsum.

You ask each other what the other is doing there and Floyd tells you that he was playing a board game with Azul and his Tsum. He says that he left them playing with each other in the classroom. You feel your Tsum move excitedly in your arms.

After saying goodbye to each other you go to the classroom where Floyd said they were. You knock on the door and pop your head inside. You see both Azul and his Tsum immersed in the game, but not enough to not notice your presence.

“Oh, good afternoon (Y/N).” Azul greets you with a smile. His Tsum quickly looks towards the door when it hears him say your name. “Please come in.” You do so. “Is there anything you need or-” He sees your Tsum and widens his eyes with a sparkle in them.

Azul-tsum makes that happy tsum sound, jumps to the floor, stops for a second, jumps back onto the table to make its move on the board game, and then gets off the table again to hop happily towards you. Your tsum jumps out of your arms and lands on the ground. And when Azul-tsum finally reaches yours the two begin to cuddle with each other.

Azul was focused on the game and only after making his play “Okay tsum, your tu-” did he look at the two tsums, and blushes slightly. He clears his throat loudly causing his tsum to look at him.

Azul’s tsum turns to yours and makes another cute sound, then the two of them hop back to the table. Azul's tsum returns to its place on the other side of the board, but yours jumps into Azul's arms to his surprise. He managed to catch it, then it looked at him and smiled with its eyes, making Azul stare at it in wonder.

“I'll concede that you are indeed charmingly cute.” He then whispers to himself: “As much as the person you resemble.”

You approach to sit with them and Azul suggests that you sit next to his tsum. The two Azuls exchange a suspicious look with each other.

They keep playing. When it's not Azul's turn, your tsum makes little sounds or something that makes him look at it. And when it's not Azul-tsum's turn, it seems to be undecided between paying attention to the board or looking at you so you can pet it. In the end, the two were practically tied, but Azul-tsum makes a play that makes it win the game. Both his tsum and your tsum celebrate, coming back to cuddle with each other.

“Ah, so that was your real move.” Azul said with a smirk. “You used (Y/N)'s tsum to distract me. Actually no, worse than that, you two are partners in crime.”

The two tsums looked smugly at Azul. But he didn't seem upset despite having lost. In fact, he seemed to be looking thoughtfully at the tsums. You ask what's wrong or if he's okay.

“Oh, don't worry, it's nothing. I was just thinking...” He looks back at the tsums who look back at him with an encouraging look. Both of them. “From what I've been able to observe, tsums have a lot in common with the person they resemble, especially their personality. After seeing how these two work together I was just wondering...” He looks at you and smiles confidently. “Wouldn't you happen to have the same interest as your tsum in being my partner too? Hum... partner in crime, I mean.”

You were walking through the Main street with your Tsum in your arms, when you see a little thing hopping towards you. It stops right in front of you, at your feet, and smiles at you with its eyes, making that cute tsum sound, as if it were greeting you politely. From the side where the dark grey strand is facing and from the calm demeanor, you can tell it's Jade's tsum.

Your tsum makes the cute tsum sound back to Jade-tsum and you let your tsum jump to the ground for the two to rub their faces against each other.

After that, you hear footsteps approaching you. Looking ahead you see Jade. His tsum looks at him and then jumps into your arms smiling at you with its cute little eyes. When Jade gets close to you he laughs.

“He he. You are quite cunning indeed, tsum. Or should I just say coward at this point?” He was still smiling, but with that look that was worryingly difficult to decode. Then he looks at you. “Forgive me for not greeting you first, (Y/N). I got... worried about the tsum when I lost sight of it. I'm genuinely relieved that you were the one to find it safe and sound.” He looks down at your tsum. “Aw, what a lovely sight, your sweet tsum is back.”

You feel Jade-tsum tense up in your arms, but it barely moves. Jade bends down and holds out his cupped hands for your tsum to jump into them. You feel Jade-tsum once again tense slightly, but without moving. Jade raises your tsum in front of his face. It smiles at him innocently.

“Undoubtedly adorable.” Jade says. “But you shouldn't just jump into anyone's hands like that.” He lowers his hands to chest height, holds the tsum with one hand while, with the other, he makes a claw-like movement as if he were going to imprison it. “It could be dangerous.” He looks at his own tsum in your arms, who still doesn't move.

“But it didn't just jump into anyone's hands.” You say. He looks at you meeting your eyes. “However you're right, it can be very dangerous. But you should have told that to YOUR tsum.”

Both Jade and his Tsum are surprised by what you said. And suddenly you tighten your hug around Jade-tsum as if you were Floyd squeezing someone. But in this case, you are squeezing the tsum with love and affection. It waves its little arms and legs as if it were asking for help, but not trying very hard to escape.

Jade laughs delightedly, and frees your tsum from his clutches, taking it to his chest just to pet it affectionately. He looks at that little angel face face that knew he wouldn't hurt you or your tsum and smiles.

“In fact, you are a danger on the loose.” He jokes. “Tell me, would the both of you like to accompany me and my little lookalike to Mostro Lounge? We came here for a stroll around campus because I thought it would be a nice bonding exercise. But I’m sure that something like sharing a smoothie, for example, could also be great for bonding.”

You look happy with the idea of going with them to Mostro Lounge. But in the meantime you realize that tsums don't have mouths. How could they share a drink?

“Oh, well, perhaps I wasn't referring to the tsums.” He smiles at you with that bold confidence.

Kalim, his tsum and Jamil took a magic carpet tour of campus. Kalim-tsum’s eyes were sparkling the whole time during it, but something must have piqued its interest because after that it disappeared.

Meanwhile, you were with your tsum in the Ramshackle Dorm lounge when you heard someone knocking on the door. You open it to find... no one. Until you hear that happy tsum sound near your feet. You look down and see a Kalim-tsum smiling at you with its eyes.

As soon as you say hello, it wastes no time in jumping on your shoulder and brushing its face against your cheek. You hear another tsum sound behind you. You turn around and Kalim-tsum sees your tsum. Kalim-tsum makes another happy sound and jumps off your shoulder to hug your tsum. Or at least that's what it looked like despite its short arms.

If that tsum was there without Kalim, most likely he was looking for it. And consequently Jamil too. Therefore, you decide to take the two tsums in your arms and go find Kalim.

Just as you predicted, you found Kalim and Jamil together on Main Street. When Kalim sees you from afar, he happily waves his arms in the air to call you to join them.

“Hi (Y/N)!” Kalim greets you. “I'm so glad I found you! I really wanted you to meet-” He looks at the two little creatures you carry in your arms when you get close to him. “AH! You found it! You're amazing!”

Jamil sighs with relief. And then they both realize what, or rather, who, the other little creature is. Kalim's eyes shine and a huge smile spreads across his face.

“It can't be! There's one like you too! It's so cute! Aw, I want to hug it so much! Can I? Can I? Pretty pleeease~?”

If you’re more outgoing, your tsum will smile with its eyes at him. If you are more shy, your tsum will be too flattered and hide its face in your arms. Which will make Kalim find it even cuter.

“I know they may look like plushies,” Jamil says “but I don’t think you should treat them like one.”

“Don't worry, I won't hurt it.” Kalim says both to Jamil and to you.

“I'm also worried about the other way around. If that is even possible.”

“What? No way!” Kalim stretches out his arms welcomingly for your tsum to jump into them. And it does. He turns to Jamil. “You don't really think this adorable little thing would hurt anyone, do you?”

Jamil looks at your tsum, who smiles at him with its eyes and he blushes slightly to the point of having to look away. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

“And I am a great judge of character.” Kalim completed confidently. He brings your tsum close to his face to see it better. “Oh, if you were bigger I could hug you for real.”

This gives your tsum an idea and suddenly it starts to grow, which takes everyone by surprise, until it stops at the size of a pillow. Kalim has no other way to hold it other than hugging it and that's what he does. He hugs it tight like it's the most adorable thing on earth and he never wants to let it go.

And apparently, Kalim's tsum wants the same treatment, but from you, so it also grows to the size of a pillow for you to hug it.

Jamil looks at you all slightly uncomfortably and can only say: “If you ever do that to each other, at least get a room first.”

It was already late in the afternoon. You were walking across campus with your tsum in your arms when you heard a "CUT!". You have heard that a few other times before, it was Vil's voice and he must have been filming something for the film club.

Your tsum moves in your arms as if it was also curious to see what he was doing. You follow the sound and walk until you reach the Main Street.

“Rehearsal is over.” You hear Vil say and you stop. “Now we must capture this scene before the sun sets. Focus!”

That sounded like your cue not to interrupt him. You weren't at a place where you could appear in the frame, so you just wait there, watching, just like your tsum. However, someone else was watching the scene as well, hidden in the bushes.

“Now the real fun begins.” Rook says, both to his tsum and to Epel, that he dragged it with him. “Let us watch Vil and the rest of the club shine!”

Rook's tsum hops eagerly and the two observe Vil, until something else catches the tsum's attention and it looks to the side. Rook notices this.

“You changed the target of your attention, monsieur tsum. What could have possible divert your gaze from Vil?” He follows the tsum's gaze and finds you, standing there watching Vil. “Bien sûr, there could only be one reason.” He sees your Tsum in your arms. “Oh, marvelous! Tricster's tsum is back! Even more beauty to behold.”

Everything goes smoothly until the end of the recordings. And it is only when Vil sees you and greets you that you approach him. His attention (and everyone's actually) goes to your tsum.

“I see you've also been assigned as a tsumsitter.” Vil says. “I heard it had shown up the first time this happened, but I ended up not having the pleasure of meeting it. I'm glad I got this chance.” He smiles at your tsum who looks at him in wonder. “One also appeared in Pomefiore. A Rook lookalike.”

You feel your tsum spasm in your arms, and then you hear something jumping towards you. You turn around and a wild Rook-tsum appears and greets you with that happy tsum sound.

Your tsum jumps to the ground and lets Rook-tsum approach it first. It jumps to get closer to your tsum but, to everyone's surprise, your tsum dodges and runs away.

You panic a little, your tsum had never done that until now, and Rook-tsum goes jumping after your tsum, even though it has already lost sight of it. You are about to start running to look for them when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You are startled by Rook's sudden appearance.

“Worry not, trickster. I have been following monsieur tsum and it has been an enriching experience. You could accompany me and we can observe them together. There is no place they can go that I won't find them.” he winks.

You go with Rook following your tsums. You notice that every now and then your tsum stops as if provoking Rook-tsum and when it is about to catch your tsum, it dodges again and continues running away.

“How fascinating.” Rook laughs “Tell me, doesn't it look like they're playing with each other?”

You continue following the tsums to the botanical garden, already in the early evening. Where they finally stop. Or rather, where your tsum finally lets itself be caught, in the subtropical zone. You see Rook-tsum clinging to your tsum and making a movement with its head as if were kissing your tsum passionately.

“I wonder...” Rook says “If this is all some kind of mating ritual for the tsums.” he laughs seeing your reaction. “What's wrong, trickster? That look is not from someone who dislikes the idea~ Is there anything your heart would like to share? Because any question you have about mine can be answered by looking at monsieur tsum.”

You were walking through campus with your Tsum in your arms when you heard something above you.

“PREFECT!” You hear Ortho's voice shout from somewhere. “LOOK OUT!”

You see an unidentified flying object coming towards you at high speed. Your instinct is to cower and duck. But the object stopped before it hit you and landed on the ground in front of you. You look and see an Ortho-tsum. Ortho approaches you.

“He he he. Did we scare you? Sorry. Are you OK?” He asks. You answer that you are. “I’m glad. We just wanted to surprise you. Have you already heard of these little creatures called tsums, (Y/N)?”

You stand up, revealing your tsum that had been hidden in your arms when you ducked. Both Ortho and his tsum are happy to see your tsum.

“OH! One like you also appeared! So cool!”

Ortho-tsum uses its new device to fly towards your tsum, who got surprised by it. Your tsum jumps from your arms to the ground and gestures for Ortho-tsum to come closer to it.

Ortho-tsum lands near your tsum again and it starts walking around ortho-tsum as if it is examining the new device suspiciously. The tsum make sounds as if they were chatting.

“I don't know what they're saying...” Ortho laughs. “But from the tone and what they're doing, it seems like your tsum is worried about my tsum's new antigravity device. The audio of the noises I'm capturing sounds similar to a scene from a movie I have stored in my memory, where an older sister is saying things like 'Where did you get that?', ‘Are you sure it's safe?’, ‘You could get hurt.’ Ha ha ha.”

After this conversation between the tsums, Ortho's tsum flies for a second, lands again and makes an inviting sound for your tsum. It jumps on Ortho-tsum's back and the two slowly and carefully take flight.

“I think it wants to play with your tsum. Will you play with us too (Y/N)? Pretty Please?”

If you feel safe with Ortho, he will take you flying on his back. If you're scared he'll say: “It's okay, I understand. We can play close to the ground. We don't need to go up to the clouds to have fun together."

After walking around campus you decided to stop to rest on one of the benches in the Courtyard. You sit down and your tsum stays on your lap. A few seconds later, when you thought you could rest a little, something falls into your lap and on top of your tsum, startling you both.

After enjoying your reactions, the new tsum jumps next to you on the bench and turns to face you. It's a Lilia's tsum.

“Yay! Your tsum is back!” A voice behind you startles you and your tsum again, making it jump from your lap to Lilia-tsum's side.

Your tsum starts making sounds like it's complaining, but Lilia-tsum starts rubbing its face against your tsum to calm it down.

“Khee hee hee. Sorry.” Lilia says upside down, floating next to you. “You were trying to rest, weren't you?” He gestured for the tsums to move away so he could sit next to you.

They jump into your lap, where they get so close that it looks more like they're snuggling in a nest.

“I know it may not seem like it, but my tsum was getting tired too. But neither it nor I could resist surprising you and your tsum. Isn't it as charming and cute as me?”

You look at the tsums in your lap who seemed to be cuddled up sleeping. You joke that Tsum can be cuter.

“Ow, you're just saying that because of the plush shape it has. But looking at you and your tsum, I understand what you mean. Your tsum is also cuter than you.” He sees you pout slightly, and smiles mischievously. “Khee hee hee. Looks like someone didn't like being hit with their own spell.”

Lilia-tsum wakes up from its short nap and jumps to the ground, waking up your tsum as well. Lilia-tsum makes an inviting happy sound to your tsum, who also jumps off your lap to join it.

“I think it wants to play with your tsum now.”

You and Lilia follow your tsums to see what they will do. They prank a student. He was distracted reading a magazine when Lilia-tsum makes a sound that catches his attention. He looks, sees Lilia's tsum, rubs his eyes, looks again, and sees Lilia's and yours tsums. He rubs his eyes again, looks again and only sees your tsum. He gets up startled, looks the other way, looks back to where the tsum were and there is nothing there anymore. You hear him walking away wondering if he's going crazy or hallucinating.

You and Lilia laugh. And then Lilia has another idea for a prank.

The four of you go to the library and find two students chatting at a table. One of them is telling the other that he had seen Lilia transform into a small, round creature in front of him. The other wondered if it was some shapeshifting spell or some prank of Lilia's. Lilia-tsum hopped over to them.

“SEE?! HERE! This was the creature I saw Lilia transform into!”

You appear and greet the students. Lilia-tsum jumps into your arms in front of them and Lilia casts a light spell that temporarily blinds them, long enough for your tsum to take your place. When the students look again, they find two tsums.

“AHH! It's not a spell, it's some curse!” the other student says. “If any of them touch us, we become one of them too!”

Your two tsums walk slowly but menacingly towards them, and the students run away. Lilia bursts out laughing.

“This must have been the best one yet. Don't you also think it's funny when two big boys run away in fear from a cute little thing?”

The two tsums return to you. Lilia-tsum looks tired.

“We don't have that much stamina at this age, do we?” Lilia says smiling. He holds out his arms for his tsum to jump into them, but it doesn't. “Um? You don't want me to carry you?”

Lilia-tsum walks up to your tsum and cuddles with it.

“Oho, I see. In that case...” Lilia takes his blazer off his shoulders and ties the ends together as if making a hammock. “Okay you little lovebirds, here's a nest for you.” The two tsums jump in and snuggle together. “In fact, there is one thing cuter than our separate tsums: them together.” He looks at you, but the cute smile turns into a mischievous one when he sees your face. “What's wrong? Don't tell me you don't think they would make a pretty couple. That would break my heart.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[allllium]

Just an Accident

~ Jason todd x reader who was accidentally hurt

~ Fluff, Jason being dramatic, WC:

~ Inspired by @mostly-imagines

[Thank you guys for being so patient while I finished this and thank you for all likes 💓💓 I really wasn't expecting anything till this was finished. Hope this meets your expectations <3]

Jason tried really hard to keep his secret secret from you but let's be honest, he's very obvious about it. Especially once you meet his family.

After he finally came clean to you about everything, he became even more protective. More protective than you ever thought possible.

He would freak out anytime he didn't know where you were or if you got hurt in any way.

"I'm so so sorry." Bruce says, following you through the mansion repeating his apology.

"It's okay, Bruce, it was an accident." You reply, "I should've known."

Honestly there was no way you could've known that Bruce was creating some elaborate booby trap on the kitchen counter that would fail and smack you in the face when you walked into the kitchen.

It didn't hurt too bad, luckily Bruce was testing things with plastic and not the real materials.

From the look of it though, you'll definitely have a mark on your nose and possibly a bruise under your eye.

"I had no idea it was gonna do that." He continues defending, knowing how Jason will react.

"It's fine, I swear. I know you wouldn't do that on purpose." You walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. Bruce sits next to you.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks. Obviously freaking out.

"No, it's alright. It really doesn't hurt."

"Oh shit." You hear Dick gasp. Coming in through the front door with Tim.

"Oh, what did you do!?" Tim asks, "Jason is gonna kill you."

"It was an accident, everything is fine." You try to calm everyone down.

Seeing that you're okay, Dick can't hold back his laugh.

"Wow, Jason is never gonna trust you again Bruce." Tim hits Dick on the arm and rolls his eyes. To the side of you, Bruce leans forward to hold his head in his hands.

"I think you guys are being a little dramatic. Jason isn't gonna kill him."

"No you seriously underestimate how Jason will react to this." Tim tells you.

"Yeah, remember he almost killed me for making jokes about you when you first got together."

"What?" You turn to Dick in confusion, "I don't remember that."

"Not important," he waves it off, "The point is, we need a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"A plan to hide this from Jason" He tells you, in a tone that screams obvious.

"How would I do that, Dick? I live with him."

"I don't know yet, that's why we need a plan!" He exclaims, pacing in front of the couch.

You roll your eyes, "You're being dramatic."

"No he's not." Bruce says. You fall back into the couch and cross your arms over chest.

"Bruce please. I need at least one of other person here to be an adult."

You can hear Tim laughing as he sits in the chair next to the couch.

"Well, he's right. Jason's gonna be pissed." Bruce shakes his head at you. He stands from the couch and starts pacing with Dick.

"They're gonna make me lose my mind." You mumble under your breath. You run your hands over your face, this childish behavior you're watching isn't what you were expecting from Batman and Nightwing.

Okay to be honest you were definitely expecting this from Dick.

Tim leans over to whisper to you, "You should make a break for it, they're too busy plotting to notice you leave."

"Let me guess," you whisper back, "you've had to make a break for it a couple times?"

"More than you know." He shakes him head and has a serious look on his face.

"Well, have fun with that." You laugh and walk out the front door. Tim was right, both the guys were so busy trying to figure out how to hide you from Jason, they totally forgot to hide you.

You rush home to meet Jason. You were supposed to meet for dinner but obviously you got a little distracted.

"Hey baby." You sigh when you walk through the door. Jason is in the kitchen cooking dinner. Whatever he chose to make, made the whole room smell amazing.

"Hey. What took you so long?"

"I stopped by the mansion to borrow that thing from Alfred but he wasn't there." You tell him, referencing some cooking tool you wanted to make desert for after dinner.

"Where did he go?" You want into the kitchen to see him while you talk.

"I have no idea. I got distracted by something Bruce was doing." You walk over and take a piece of food that he's cutting.

Without looking, he softly smacks your hand away.

"Rude." You laugh.

"This is my sacred space." He puts the knife down and gestures over the whole counter.

"You're ridiculous." You laugh again and kiss him on the cheek.

"How dare you." He puts his hand on his chest in fake offense. Only then does he turn to actually look at you. "What happened?" He immediately asks.

"Oh it's fine, just got smacked with some plastic " Which is apparently not the answer he wanted.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He grabs your face gently and examines the marks on your face.

"It means I got hit with some plastic. But it doesn't hurt." You quickly explain, but he doesn't let go of your face or stop freaking out.

"What plastic?"

"Bruce was experimenting with something and it didn't work."

"He did this?" He lets go off your face to run his hands over his own.

"It was accident. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose and you know that."

"I don't care if it was an accident, you're hurt."

"Jason." You say firmly. He's obviously surprised considering you never use his name to address him. "An accident is an accident and you're not gonna hold this against Bruce. He already apologized and clearly felt bad."

"But you're hurt" He pouts.

You step forward and wrap your arms over his shoulders. "It doesn't hurt. It was just some plastic."

"It left a mark."

"I promise I'm okay. And I want you to promise you won't hurt Bruce for this." You look right into his eyes and do your best to give him a puppy dog look. Which isn't necessary because he can't say no to you anyway.

"Fine I promise I won't hurt him." He presses his forehead to yours, "I'd rather leave him to stew in fear anyway."

You chuckle at his words. "As long as no real harm comes to him I won't stop you from having fun."

"Good." He kisses you once and heads back to make dinner. You have no doubt Jason would ever actually hurt Bruce over something so small but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

Hopefully this'll stop Dick and Bruce acting like absolutely children in the future.

Yeah that'll never happen.

Not even 10 minutes after finishing dinner you get a call from Dick.

"How dare you?" He asks the moment you answer the phone. "You're a traitor."

"Again with the dramatics Dick. You can't stop me from going home."

"Let me guess Jason's on his way here to get some revenge right now." He says in a very childish and fearful tone.

"No! I was right, you guys are way more dramatic than you should be and he has no intention of killing anyone." Jason looks at you as you talk to his brother. Clearly wondering what he has to do with this situation.

"I don't believe you. You've shown where your loyalty lies."

"Why are you talking like I'm an enemy or something?"

"Maybe you are! How should I know?"

"Okay you're right." You decide to play along, "I couldn't stop him from wanting to kill Bruce, he's on his way there right now."

Jason furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"I knew it! Mark my words one day-"

His voice cuts off when you hang up.

"There is something severely wrong with your entire family." You tell Jason with a blank face.

"Yeah I know." He puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into him.

Hmm you wonder how long it takes till Dick realizes you lied.