#(not that it was before the most recent events but I feel it even more now)

[lockandkeyblade]

Yanno what I don't even go to Batman but we're gonna give this a roll. ----------------------------------------------- If you'd asked him back when the idea first came to mind, Danny would politely attest that staking out the Batcave for a meme probably doesn't even rank in the top five stupidest things he's ever done. Number one will always remain stepping into a defunct machine and blindly feeling up the walls.

Number two has a habit of changing, depending on whatever the most recent comment to leave his mouth without thinking is. Letting his mouth vomit out the unthinkable has a bad habit of launching Sam and Tucker at each other's throats, or someone half as scary at him. Three to five also alternate, from Pariah Dark, to the events that would've lead him straight to Dan, to accepting his Kingly duties, whenever those reared their ugly heads.

Of course, that's when the idea first comes to mind.

By the time Phantom actually finds the Batcave, it's at least in the top ten. Because the Batcave can't be hidden beneath an abandoned building, or a Fortune 500 office. No. It just so happens to be smack bang in the middle of a series of complex (and partially man made) tunnels beneath the Wayne Estate, New Jersey. And if that doesn't clue him into potentially knowing the identity of one of the most terrifying superheroes of all time, then his brain was officially dead.

Just like the other 50% of him will be, if it ever crosses Batman's mind that a seemingly meta vigilante from buttfuck nowhere Minnesota likely knows his civilian identity. Which is almost, almost enough to scare him off the mission entirely.

Except he has to do it. He has to. For the Vine.

Forget that Vine is a long lost art. Forget that TikTok is an endless pit of nightmarish content that even Technus seemed reluctant to go near. His follower count may be at a measly 103, but they're his followers. They deserve this.

So an idea spawned after nearly two days without sleep and far too many shots of espresso sprawls into a several week long covert operation... after he finds the Batcave.

Because the cave should be renamed Bathive, with all the activity constantly going on in it. If it's not Batman, it's Robin. Or Nightwing. Red Robin. BlackBat.

And just the once, Red Hood, who stopped and stared at the space where Phantom was hovering near the ceiling with a green reflectiveness in his eyes that had the ghost-teen waving his hands in front of his own face, just to ensure he was still invisible. There'd been something off in that reaction, something uncomfortably familiar.

If he hadn't already been certain that the Bats all had a little exposure to the Infinite Realms, that still would have confirmed it. Not that it matters.

What matters is the lack of opportunity to do what no halfa has done before. No matter when he staked it out, day and night, there was always someone there. Once the initial rush of being in the BATCAVE had worn off, the entire exercise became a little dull, Danny had to admit. Especially when he was doing his utmost not to listen to any sensitive conversations that might be happening 10 feet below him at any given time.

It takes a mass breakout from Arkham Asylum for him to finally get five minutes alone with the Batcomputer, three seconds to type in the address for Archive of Our own, seven seconds to snap a photo-- and five seconds to set off the alarm.

He flies out of there like a bat (ha!) out of hell, prize clutched firmly in his hands. Adrenalin, a chronic lack of sleep, and several more espressos on the flight back home make the question of post, or not to post, an absolute breeze to answer.

He shares the video with his feed, accompanied by the prerequisite background music, and promptly crashes out for twelve hours straight. His last thoughts are happy, drunken little daydreams that his 103 followers will all like it.

They do like it, in fact. They like it very much.

And so do 1,394,576 other people. And counting.

Now it's in the top five stupidest things he's ever done.

Danny goes all the way to Gotham, finds the Batcave, stalks the bats long enough to figure out the passcode to the Batcomputer.

Just to do the "If there's a screen A03 will be seen." trend on Tiktok, not expecting it to blow up as big as it did.

How was he supposed to expect anything else? He was chronically unpopular for a hero, most of his tiktoks only got a solid 100 likes, entirely from the teenagers in Amity who were fans of him (something about him looking photoshopped or like AI?)

While Phantom and therefore Amity Park is under a microscope, a smart thing to do would be to lay low or cooperate with the heroes to show he's not a threat.

Instead, he posts a follow-up tiktok from The Watchtower

[r0semultiverse]

[puppppppppy]

i feel shy talking here when i dont have anything worth sharing but i cant help feeling like ive said things in the tags that could be brought up in court

[evergone]

Sleepless

Rindou Haitani x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (allusions to sex), swearing

Description: The reader can't sleep because the Tenjiku members are being far too loud.

You had tried so hard all night not to disturb your boyfriend and his friends as they celebrated their recent successes in your lounge room, but as your eyes fluttered open for the fifth time that night, you knew you had to go and ask them to be just a tad quieter. Of course, you felt terrible because Rindou was being so considerate already. You couldn’t even hear the crappy rap music they were playing, just the echo of the bass through the walls, and both of the times that you were woken up by their chatter you heard Rindou frantically scrambling to hush them.

With a yawn and a small stretch, you pulled your throw blanket over your shoulders and shuffled across the carpet until you found your ugg boots in the complete and utter darkness. After a pained “fuck” slipped past your lips as you hit your knee on the edge of your bedframe, you slowly opened the door and stepped out into the lounge room.

It wouldn’t have taken more than a second before the boys noticed your meek, sleep-deprived frame cringing at the power of the lights while your eyes took their time to adjust. Most of them were strung out across the three grey couches in front of the television which was tuned into an MMA fight on mute, while the younger members (that Kisaki kid, his friend Hanma, Kokonoi, and Sanzu) were awkwardly sitting around the dining table behind them. Madarame offered you a short wave to which you responded with a tired frown, then you finally caught sight of Rindou sitting in the corner of the middle couch with his hand outstretched towards you.

“Rinnie…” You whined as you made your way into his lap with his arm lazily draped over your waist. Ran, your brother-in-law for all intents and purposes, snickered at the nickname, and the tone of your voice which was laden with exhaustion.

“Sorry, did we wake you up?” Rindou asked quietly, and then turned to the rest of the group, “I told these fuckwits to keep it down.”

Rindou wasn’t ignorant of the fact that you were wearing nothing but his shirt as pyjamas, and he knew well from the night’s earlier — and more private — events that your underwear were the barely-there kind. So, he was cautious to make sure that one of his hands was sitting firmly under your bum at all times, holding the shirt against your skin.

“If you guys stayed quiet I would’ve made you pancakes for breakfast as thanks,” you teased. Mocchi’s shoulders tensed in clear disappointment at your words. While all of them were fond of your cooking, Mocchi was always the biggest eater.

You pressed your lips against Rindou’s neck while they continued their discussion. His voice vibrated into each kiss you bestowed upon his neck and collarbone with a kind of intimacy that made you feel as though you were melting into one another. After a while of this, you began to doze off, your mind stuck in the in-between state of being oddly aware of everything around you, but not quite awake.

Rindou took one glance at the state of you, nearly asleep despite the volume of the room, and hooked his arms under your thighs to carry you back to the bed you shared. He folded the throw neatly at the end of the mattress, then placed you down on your preferred side, and admired the irritated look on your face which was made possible to see by the slightly open door.

As he made a movement to leave and rejoin his friends in the lounge room, you groaned, grabbed the cuff of his shirt, and pulled him back towards you. He was much stronger than you, strong enough not to be even slightly moved by your pull, but he was never the kind of boyfriend to fight your affection. He knelt down on the floor beside you with his hand rubbing circles on your cheek, already feeling terrible about how you couldn’t get to sleep because of him and his friends.

“What’s wrong, N/n?” He said lovingly.

“Come to bed. It’s cold. I want you in here with me.” You saw how Rindou’s eyes flicked back to the light emanating from the doorway, so you pouted in the sexiest way you could given how tired you were. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The sleeve of the shirt you were wearing had — at some point, unbeknownst to you — fallen from your shoulder to reveal the lacy strap of a new bra Rindou had bought you. It reminded him of your underwear. Of how nice it felt to take them off earlier…

“You’re too tired for any of that, babe. Just go to bed, and I’ll come join you in no time, promise,” he said as he shook the images from his mind, knowing you were one blink away from falling asleep again.

“You hate me,” you huffed, and turned away from your boyfriend before adding, “You’re just gonna end up passing out on the couch like you do every time they come here. I’m gonna wake up all alone. You’re such a bad boyfriend.”

Rindou smiled softly, “Are you trying to guilt-trip me right now?” You turned back to make eye contact with him and nodded. “Fine.”

For a moment, he disappeared into the lounge room. You could hear Ran making fun of him for being “absolutely whipped”, and Izana telling him to “man up”, but you were already beginning to feel your eyelids getting heavier, so you didn’t care much to go out and defend him. When he returned, he took off his shirt and pulled on a pair of trackpants, and then crawled into bed beside you.

Content to have gotten all you wanted from Rindou, you traced the tattoos on his torso until you were so exhausted you could no longer hold your hand up.

“I will make it worth your while,” you yawned as you rested your head on his chest and let him run his hands over your hair, “Just… In the morning when I’m rejuvenated.”

You closed your eyes and Rindou felt your heartrate slow down along with the frequency of your breaths. You were snoring ever-so-gently, and he stifled a laugh at the irony of the fact that he wouldn’t be able to get even a second of sleep because of it.

[makismei]

❝ ALL YOU EVER WANTED FROM ME WAS SWEET NOTHING!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ geto x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers, college!au suggestive content, modern! au, fluff, minor angst, MEN YEARNING, failing out of college, reader needs academic validation to live apparently

synopsis: he’ll love you, just as you are— even if you’re too soft for the world, he’ll gladly be your shield

suguru’s in love with you. it’s no secret.

as you lay on his chest, sweat slicked skin on skin, suguru wishes this pre arranged arrangement was more— he wishes you’d let him in, so he could love you more.

he tries, really. he wants to know you. anything about you.

at this point, he knows your body like the back of his hand. but your favourite colour? no idea. he would guess pink, but that’s only because you own a lot of pink tops.

you like sweets. recently, you’ve garnered a fascination for mochi donuts.

but all this information has come from his observant nature— you’ve never opened up to him, except for that one time, when you cried in his arms, seeking connection, another person’s warmth.

that was also the day you became friends with benefits.

whenever he tries to conduct a mini interview on you, you shut him out, telling him he doesn’t need to know those things.

he knows that you know he loves you.

he’s said it one too many times, when he’s most vulnerable, buried in you. but not once has he heard it back.

but it’s okay. he has a feeling that you’re starting to fall in love with him too.

you’ve started telling him about your day, as well as extremely vague plans for the next. suguru know he’s grasping at air, but he swears he can feel it in his hands.

“can we try?” he whispers, uncertain. to tell you the truth— suguru, as suave and handsome and perfect as he is, isn’t immune to insecurity. girls throw themselves at his feet, but he couldn’t care less because they’re not you.

you sit up. your warmth leaving him shatters his heart.

his room, air humid with sweat and sex, suddenly feels icy. but he gazes longingly at your back, at the scars on your elbows that probably have stories behind them— stories he craves so desperately to know.

“what’s so bad about it?” he continues, “is it me?”

“don’t ask stupid questions,” you retort. but he hears a shaky breath leave your lips, quiet cries filling the room.

he sits up, hand on your back. “look at me.”

he’s got you.

you shake your head, mindlessly bringing a finger to your lips, picking at the dead skin— a nervous tick.

“don’t do that,” suguru says, fingers cupping your jaw, gently turning your head so he can see your face. his thumb runs along your poor bottom lip, catching blood on his finger.

“i get overwhelmed easily,” you mutter, eyes glancing down in shame, “i shut people out when i feel too vulnerable and i’m mean.”

he huffs a laugh, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “you’re protecting yourself and that’s okay.”

“i’m a shut-in, i don’t like leaving the house and i’m not romantic at all.” you continue and he nods, gaze never faltering.

“you like shoujo anime. especially the episodes with trips or big events.” he whispers, watching you pout. how cute, he thinks, like a petulant child who just wants to be noticed.

a tear streams down your cheek, wetting his thumb as he tries to wipe them away, but it’s like rainfall, so he lets you feel it out.

“i failed out of college,” you voice breaks, “the only thing i was supposed to be good at.”

you’re sobbing, head down in shame and suguru just pulls you into his arms. he rubs a hand soothingly up and down your back, heart absolutely shattering at the sounds of your cries.

“your failures don’t define you,” he mutters, “you’re still smart, capable and hard working. that doesn’t change.”

you pull away, staring him in the face and suguru thinks you’re so beautiful, so vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“how do you know?” you sniffle, “you don’t know anything about me.”

he smiles, nodding. suguru wipes your tears, “i wonder why.”

you click your tongue, mustering a glare that holds absolutely no malice. he breathes a quiet laugh, “you’d bend over backwards for your so-called friends, even though none of them realize what you’re going through right now.”

“i don’t want them to know.” you refute.

“i bet you didn’t want me to know either,” he chastises, but it’s soft and his hands are so warm. “but i know now, because you’re important to me. i don’t want you to go through it all alone.”

you’re still glaring, but the crease between your brows have softened. “do you have a saviour complex?”

he shakes his head, “just a thing for damsels in distress, i guess.”

you pinch his arm. he takes your hand and it brings it to his lips. you feel warmth flood your body, but you don’t know if you deserve it.

“what if this ends up being the worst decision you’ll ever make?” you whisper and it’s the first time he’s heard you sound so insecure.

suguru cups your face in his hands, long black hair framing his face. his hair is so long that it tickles your skin, what would your parents say, when you bring home a guy with hair this long?

you can’t find it in you to care, because you know this guy loves you wholeheartedly. you don’t even know what you did to deserve it.

“it won’t be.” and it’s resolute, “haven’t i told you enough? that i love you?”

you nod slowly, tears finally drying.

he leans in, lips brushing against yours. “i’ll put in the work to make you believe me, to trust me.”

you laugh, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

you realize here and now, that out of everyone in your life so far, suguru is the only one who doesn’t ask anything of you. he just loves you and it feels unbelievable.

suguru laughs, his forehead touching yours. “i should be telling you that.”

manga panel from my love story with yamada-kun at lv999 ^.^

[reasonsforhope]

Climate change in 2025: So, what now?

Some real talk for the new year, about where we now stand, and what the next years are going to look like.

(Still ends on a “be hopeful!! or else” kind of note, but definitely gets into some heavy truths about the meaning of recent events.)

--

Obviously, between Trump's reelection at the Los Angeles fires, things are feeling a lot more precarious than they did just a few months ago. I know a lot of people are incredibly stressed. I know I'm certainly stressed.

But this isn't the end. This isn't the beginning of the end, either. We're not doomed.

Don't despair.

Yes, things are about to get harder. Yes, the effects of climate change are now becoming truly apparent.

But here's what you need to hold on to:

We have already cut expected warming in half.

More about that including sources here: (x) I'm not going to go into it again in detail, read the source for that. But it's true. In 2000, when I was a kid, they were predicting 4, 5, 6 degrees of warming, plus a runaway greenhouse effect that would boil the planet.

Now, scientists expect that global temperatures will likely land between 2 and 3 degrees.

Which is incredibly shitty, yes. But it's survivable.

And I have for a lot of reasons (check these masterposts on this) to believe with the confidence of knowing that we're going to get expected warming down even further.

And that's something to celebrate.

I’m not saying that the effects of warming aren’t already bad, or won’t get worse. I’m from California, I currently live in LA. My state’s been on fire for half my life. Natural disasters starting amping up early here (and we’re certainly in the middle of another historic number now). And yeah, it's fucking stressful right now.

But like I said, my state’s been breaking horrible disaster records constantly for the past ten years. I've done this before. And you know what? Natural disasters have been getting more and more survivable for years, largely thanks to faster warnings and better mass communication (x).

Does it suck how many natural disasters there are now? Yeah.

Does it suck how many more still there will be? Yeah.

Do we need to keep working our asses off to beat climate change? Yeah.

Are we going to need to organize and mobilize (both politically and especially community-wise) like never before to see as many people through these times as best as possible? Yeah.

But that doesn't mean we should despair. It absolutely does not mean that we've already lost.

An unknown number of the most optimistic futures were foreclosed when Trump won the US election. That’s painful but a reality.

But for twenty-ish of the past twenty-five years, the science said we weren’t going to survive climate change at all.

For most of my life, we were worried that we had set Earth on a course to become like fucking Venus (which is, on average, well over 800 degrees Farenheit). Even if it didn’t get that bad, we were so worried that global warming might wipe out all life on earth - except maybe the cockroaches.

(Literally, when I was a younger the kids at my church put on a play about that. It was like an adaptation of A Christmas Carol where the future only had talking cockroaches. I grew up so worried about this. (Not the cockroaches thing specifically. Mostly the general concept. Only a little about the cockroaches. Also yes my church was very granola why do you ask.))

But starting a few years ago, studies have shown that there wasn’t going to be a runaway greenhouse effect that could turn us into Venus; that earth is warming, yes, but we don’t seem to be in danger of that.

Between that and the fact that the adoption of renewables globally is too fast to be stopped, and we do have the technology and environmental science knowledge to eventually re-lower global temperatures by getting to net negative carbon emissions (x), and most countries and at least 73% of people in all countries for which there is data (x) actually care very much about the climate, yeah, we have closed the door on the lava planet future.

And yeah, I do think that’s worth celebrating.

That’s a massive fucking victory.

There's still more work to do, and I have every confidence that we're going to do it. I also think that, given the loss of the US election, there’s a really, really strong chance the developing world will be what saves us, and we’ll just be lucky to be along for the ride.

Most people have no idea of the kinds of amazing stories and statistics coming out of the developing world and Indigenous communities. The world is changing for the better on the environment, even as disasters (and the US) are getting worse. Solar power is going to revolutionize the fucking world, because it’s going to grant humanity universal access to electricity, and that’s going to revolutionize the world, especially the developing world (aka the global majority). And most people have no idea at all, much less how much it’s going to change.

So, yeah, natural disasters are going to keep getting worse.

But there’s a long, long long fucking way between “natural disasters are going to keep getting worse” and “the extinction of all of humanity and/or the vast majority of life on earth”

So, in the face of Trump, in the face of everything, I still choose to hope. I still choose to celebrate this as a true and profound accomplishment.

Because for over twenty years, I was afraid I’d never get to.

That difference is absolutely worth celebrating.

[nanenna]

This Meeting Could've Been an E-mail

Sleepy King (Nanenna ver.) Masterpost

---

Diana, along with several other members of the JLD, were sitting in a meeting room. John had stood at the head of the table, having just finished outlining the situation for them, and it was grim. She knew if worse came to worse they may have to sacrifice the boy to keep the Ghost King from emerging into their world and wreaking havoc on a scale only Darkseid had managed before, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Would not the boy also smell my father’s blood?” Raven asked.

“Unfortunately. You an’ me are gonna stay back and help plan based on what everyone else reads from the boy.”

Diana nodded along, likely that was also her role.

Bruce, in full Batman gear, came stalking into the room.

“About bloody time,” John said with a huff.

“I would hope you have brought them all up to speed on what you know of Danny while waiting.”

John made an annoyed sound, then moved to sit in a chair near the head of the table. “`Course I did, just waiting on you now.”

Bruce stood in the spot John had just vacated. “Oracle.” The room dimmed and the holo-projector  in the table whirred to life. A picture of a small family standing in front of what appeared to be some sort of business run out of what used to be a family home (something fairly common in America, Diana had learned) took center stage. Obviously it was part of a website, Diana could see the web bar with several tabs across the top of the projection, but it was zoomed into the photo.

“This,” Bruce said, pointing to the teenaged boy in the photo from behind, “is Daniel “Danny” Fenton, the boy used in the ritual last night.”

Everyone leaned in closer to look the boy over. There was nothing remarkable about him, a bit thin perhaps but that could be due to the lankiness that comes with growth spurts.

“He’s from Amity Park, Illinois. The town advertises itself as the most haunted city in America, and from what we’ve gathered they earned it. Most pertinent is that last year they were under attack by the Ghost King.”

Oracle must have clicked to the next tab, the family picture was replaced by an online newspaper article titled “Ghost King Thwarted! Is Phantom a Hero?”

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Zatanna asked incredulously.

“There must be some mistake, there’s no way Pariah Dark got free without a single person feeling it,” Dr. Fate insisted.

Oracle scrolled down the page to show several blurry photos taken of a being that looked nothing like what they’d seen last night, alongside a sketch of the being. “Either this was well researched, or somehow this whole event was cloaked,” Bruce said grimly.

“Considering this wasn’t even the most recent attack on the town and a few of them sound like JL level threats,” Oracle’s modulated voice came from the table’s speakers as she quickly tabbed through a few more news articles before coming back to the one on the Ghost King, “I think it’s more likely something is blocking the whole town from us.” She scrolled down more to show several missing or broken photos. “Especially this Phantom person that keeps showing up in every article about ghosts. Even using the way back machine there’s not a single photo of him anywhere on the internet.”

“If the Ghost King has been out,” Captain Marvel asked, “where did he go? I doubt he’s spent the last year just hanging out in a small town in middle America.”

“According to this news article,” Bruce said, “Phantom, along with help from the whole town, managed to get the Ghost King back into the Sarcophagus and sealed him away again.”

John whistled, “That’s quite the feat, even with help.”

“Are you saying Danny was chosen as Pariah’s anchor because he’s from Amity Park?” Raven asked.

“Not just because he’s from Amity Park, his parents are also self proclaimed paranormal scientists and ghost hunters.”

Oracle tabbed to a few different pages, each one with a different picture of one of Danny’s parents proudly holding ominously glowing green weapons or with vials of glowing green goo. Sometimes one in the background of another.

John squinted at the photos, “Is that pure æther?!”

“How?!” Captain Marvel and Zatanna both asked incredulously.

“They call it ectoplasm,” Bruce stated.

John scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Ectoplasm is a word scam artists in the 1800s made up to steal money from grieving widows.”

“Nevertheless that is what they're calling it. Especially of note that the Fentons run their research out of their home.”

“Where their children live?” Diana asked, horrified at the implications.

“How are they still sane?” Captain Marvel asked incredulously.

“We're not sure they are,” Batman said grimly. Oracle tabbed to a street view of the Fenton home, easily identified by the large sign on the side. The strange addition to the home's roof was an… interesting choice.

The other attendees of the meeting were becoming agitated, several of them shifting in place as they got ready to speak.

“Before this goes any further,” Bruce stated firmly, “all this to say the cult that kidnapped Danny Fenton did so with intention. Amity Park certainly needs a full investigation, but it will have to wait until after this crisis with the Ghost King is dealt with.”

“Æther exposure might explain why the kid could handle being Pariah’s anchor.” John sighed then stood up. “Alright, if that’s all the info you got…”

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement.

“The clock’s ticking.” John left the room, the others all following after.

Diana hung back to speak with Bruce. “We’ll find a solution.”

Bruce just hummed to show he heard her. She knew he wasn’t handling the situation well, a child’s life was at stake and he had to hand the situation over to others. There was only so much she could reassure him, so she chose instead to go see the boy for herself.

The JLD members that had attended the meeting were all gathered in a kitchenette discussing logistics. Diana left them to it for the moment and simply went down the hall to the room she knew the boy was sleeping in. The lights in the hallway were already dimmed, thankfully, so she simply quietly opened the door and poked her head inside. Clark was sitting on a chair next to the boy’s bed. His posture was a relaxed sprawl, but his face was furrowed in concentration. He looked up and smiled when he saw Diana.

“How are you?” She asked at barely a whisper, knowing he’d hear her just fine.

“Guilty, now that I know he mistook me for his father.”

“Sadly this is an ask for forgiveness situation.” She gently pat Clark’s arm, trying to console him.

The boy himself looked like any other teenager, dead to the world while tucked safely into bed. She only hoped they would find some solution and tomorrow he would be tucked just as safely into his own bed.

[suksatoru]

003. CARNATIONS

Shoto is a lot like Touya.

He's currently reading over his older brother's progress report quietly. Shoto was barely seventeen, but he was incredibly mature for his age. Out of all the Todorokis, no one was more dedicated to Touya's recovery than his youngest brother.

Shoto doesn't talk much. You would soon learn it's not because he was shy or anything, he was just a naturally quiet person. Meeting him in person for the first time surprised you a bit. He would write to you often—telling you all he remembered about his big brother and details from the war.

The villain 'Dabi' used to be all over the news. You remember his early days in the League, where he'd first made his big debut. You'd be studying in your room, the small TV playing recent events and information on the League of Villains. Their pictures would be plastered everywhere as the most wanted villains in all of Japan.

He was made out as a person to fear—the whole League was. His name was dragged through the mud online, and his persona to the world was one of a merciless killer who had no heart.

If only you knew he'd become someone you would soon grow to know.

"I'm glad you're his doctor, Miss L/n."

You glance up at Shoto, snapping out of the daze you were in as you send him a surprised smile

Shoto and Touya's features are very similar. Both of them have the same, soft curl of their lips when they're trying to smile, something they obviously don't do often. Their noses are alike too—you can see the small pieces of them in each other. If you could point out the similarities between them even when most of Touya's skin was covered with bandages, you thought about how much more alike they'd look after Touya was healed completely.

He talks fondly about his brother, even after all he went through—Shoto doesn't show even a hint of anger towards Touya.

"When can I meet him?"

Shoto's smile is a small one, but the gleam of unwavering hope in his eyes is heartwarming to see. He truly does love Touya.

"We're nearing the end of his first month here. So I'd like to say soon! His communication skills with me show that he's able to hold conversations and express his emotions to a certain degree. But I'd like to give him a little more time, Shoto. What he went through was years of mental and physical strain. I want him to be comfortable with the idea of seeing you again. Do you think you can hold out a little longer for me?" You ask gently, and Shoto blinks in response before slowly nodding his head

"Of course. I... that was wrong of me to ask so early. I don't think he'd like to see me, anyways." He says with a bittersweet smile. His tone held no resentment, and you reach forward to hold his hand. His fingers fit snug in yours, and after a moment—he gives your hand a thankful squeeze.

It looked like Shoto and Touya's relationship would be one of the many things you would help mend.

Shoto left after half an hour, his heart feeling lighter than when he first came.

You were exactly what Touya deserved.

You were slowly learning that Touya had a lot of odd mannerisms. With spending so much of your time with him, it would only make sense that you would pick up on them eventually.

For instance, Touya didn't care for much spicy food. He'd always make a face when you fed him something on the hotter side, begrudgingly swallowing down the food as he complained about the aftertaste it left in his mouth.

You twirl the chopsticks through his noodles idly while carefully leaning over his bandaged arms to feed him his Soba—a meal Shoto had told you of when he wrote to you about his older brother. You still remember the glimmer of surprise in Touya's eyes at the sight of what seemed to be a nostalgic meal for him.

He almost looks embarrassed by the fact that you're feeding him as he opens his mouth for you—quickly chomping down on the soft noodles as he chews slowly, watching you with narrowed eyes. It's hard not to laugh as he squints at you, the soft pale skin around his eyes crinkled even further when he spotted your small smile.

He doesn't comment on it, resorting to flicking through the few channels he was allowed to watch on the TV. His arm was draped over the side of his bed, his bandaged fingers grazing your knee every now and then from where you sat in the seat right beside his bed. He never moved his hand away when the pads of his fingertips touched you—sometimes, it seemed like he was purposely trying to poke you, but you brushed away the prospect.

"Do you like the food, Touya? It smells really good!"

He meets your gaze with a soft grunt, stretching out his legs in front of him as he nods his head.

"It's fine. Better than the shit I ate before all this." He says, waving his hand around the hospital room as you slowly nod your head

"Really? How so? What did you eat before?"

He shrugs, and the fact that he doesn't really care about his once poor diet must be what makes you tap your foot nervously against the tiled floor beneath you. His transcript said he'd been missing since he was thirteen and was in a coma until he was sixteen. Had he really been living so carelessly and alone since then?

Touya had gone through the most important development years of his life all by himself while being unable to control his quirk. You remember the day they first brought him in after the war, the pictures before his surgery were so heartbreaking to see when you were first handed his file. But doctors are truly miracle workers, and you were all trying to help him in a matter of different ways.

The price for Touya's recovery was not small.

"Well, now you're going to be eating all sorts of delicious and healthy foods! Fresh vegetables and fruits with big meals that'll fill your stomach. What we eat is really important, and you certainly need the energy from the nutrients!"

He rolls his eyes as he chews, but nods nonetheless. As you go to feed him another bite of his Soba, his nose scrunches up a bit as he leans back in his bed

"Does that bite have any broccoli in it?"

"Touya."

You managed to feed him the rest of his meal before getting him a change of clothes. A simple black lounge set that would be comfortable for him to walk outside in.

Today, you were going to bring Touya to one of your favorite places in the hospital.

He peers around the recreational garden curiously, as if he was scoping out the area for any threats. Touya's eyes are attentive and careful as he keeps an eye out on the other patients—who were simply minding their own business. This however, did not mean they were saved from Touya's menacing glares.

He walked beside you, and you had to put some distance between you and him so you didn't have to feel him towering over you as you both walked. You remain a pace ahead and you turn back to him with a soft smile that quickly captures his attention.

"You and I will have weekly walks here. The gardens are beautiful Touya—this environment is great for your mind. It allows you to relax. The other patients here are lovely, all right? They won't bother you." You say softly, and he nods his head as he finally averts his gaze from everyone else to look solely at you. Quickly, you begin walking again as you lead him down the various paths in the garden

"You're free to come here whenever you'd like! You don't really have a curfew because, well, you're not leaving the facility. But it would be ideal if you come back in time for dinner! I'm free if you ever need someone to talk to or walk with." You remind him gently, and Touya wants to nod his head and say something along the lines of 'okay, thank you' or anything decent, but he finds the words stuck in his throat.

What would the people from his past say if they saw him now? He was such a big talker. He still was, but here in your presence—he found himself almost shying away. It was embarrassing. He shouldn't be thinking so hard on how to say thank you for something so simple and stupid that left your sweet lips. Was he really that messed up? Can he not even say thank you?

You tilt your head at him with a small smile, and he's almost annoyed with how well you're able to read him. It seems like you know exactly what he's thinking whenever you look at him—sure, that was kind of your job. But it felt different for Touya, more personal.

"Thanks. I guess." He mutters, leaning against the brick wall behind him as he peers around the garden, taking in the scenery and stone arches that were made throughout the entirety of it—flowers and vines crawling up their sides as they bathed in the warm sunlight.

You spend the rest of the evening telling him all about the history of the hospital. About the founder—an honorable man—and all the people who helped make it. This was a place for new beginnings. And when you said that, you see a bit of the tension release from Touya's usually clenched fists. By the end of your walk with him, his fists had uncurled completely as they laid relaxed at his sides

Touya didn't ever seem to notice when he was invading your personal space. There were a few times where you got lost in speaking, and it always made your heart rate spike when you turned around to ask him a question, or just to check how he's faring and he'd be standing right beside you. Barely a step away from having his breath tickle your skin. But the moment you moved even an inch closer to him, it was like he suddenly became hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He didn't really know why he was so against touching people. Maybe it was because he hadn't received a lick of affection since he was a kid—and even then, his life was so messed up that he can't even remember liking the tenderness of a hug or a kiss from a loved one.

Now that he thinks about it, Touya's never really had anyone to touch.

So when he's lowering himself onto the hospital bed with a tired sigh at night, he freezes when he feels your soft hand pressing itself onto his upper arm.

"Let me help—"

"Don't touch me."

He wants to take the words back the moment the words leave his mouth. But even then, he quickly slips out of your grasp and sits on the edge of the bed. He's laying down and peering up at the ceiling with a grimace. Ashamed.

Please don't hate me, are the first words that come to his mind when he squeezes his eyes shut. He'd understand, is what he tells himself—if you walked out and left him right then and there. He must be becoming such a burden, such a pain for you—

Touya feels a soft blanket being thrown over his long frame, the fabric quickly covering him as you peer over the bed and hover over him. His breath hitches in his throat as you do, mainly at the sight of you peering down at him so nicely. It makes his chest feel unbearably tight.

"Goodnight, Touya."

You're met with silence. You turn his lamp off, and he lays quietly as he watches you pack up your things. Clipboards and pens and cards from a small game you two had played after breakfast all go into your bag. The moonlight streaming through the window is the only form of light he needs to see that you're not angry with him. Your eyes don't look mad—you look perfectly content as you pack your bag as you routinely do.

You sling your bag over your shoulder once you're all packed, leaving the room as quietly as you had entered in the morning. Touya doesn't know how long he stays awake for, but he stares at the glow in the dark stars plastered on his ceiling until he can see them shining even after he closes his eyes.

It was going to be another long, sleepless night for him.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; FAWKKK did i get everyone who wanted to be tagged?? i hope so. please let me know if you'd like to be added, removed, or if i missed you! (i am so sincerely sorry if i did!! please lmk once again!) i've got some very sad&happy plans heheh. do you guys have any ideas on what you'd like to see?? i'm curiousss!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@bbluefllame @summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

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@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[kykyonthemoon]

How to take care of your on-period girlfriend

During that time of the month, you receive special treatment from him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader

with Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne and Caleb.

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, pain & comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k4

ಇ. Note: Some details in this fic are inspired by in game Tender Moments.

ಇ. Requested by Mỗi ngày nhặt một anh làm chồng and an anonymous reader on my ask box.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such discomfort in your lower belly and an aching feeling throughout your body. You knew it was that time of the month; in fact, it was a few days late due to recent work-related stress. You didn't expect to have your period today, so waking up at this hour with discomfort all over your body was quite uncomfortable to you.

Your hand found the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Rafayel has left you several messages and missed calls. Perhaps you fell asleep without realizing it due to fatigue. You decided to get up and use the bathroom for a while. That's when you discovered you were missing what you needed most at home.

You grumbled and switched the phone screen back on. You were reluctant to disturb him at this time, especially because he was attending an exhibition in another city and you were not sure if he had returned yet. But you were upset and missed the times like this when he took care of you. Just before dialing his number, your phone rang.

"I've seen you online for a while. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Rafayel's voice rang out from the other end of the line, full of energy still. You just answered with a few short phrases, summarizing the current situation for him and told him that you were about to go out and get the necessary supplies.

"Just stay there." Rafayel stopped you. "Do not go anywhere. Wait for me."

You were a little confused why he had told you to stay home. But just now, you were too tired to have the strength to ask. Besides, you could not go out in this state, when you just wanted to faint on the floor.

You washed and changed into a new set of pajamas. Luckily, you found a spare sanitary pad left over in the closet that was sufficient for your needs. As soon as you got out of the bathroom, you heard the front door open. Rafayel appeared there, with a bunch of bags wrapped in both hands.

“How are you now? Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, primarily to reassure him. But glancing at your pallid face, he knew you were lying. And you were taken aback when he arrived here, at this hour.

“Didn't you leave Linkon for the exhibition a few days ago?”

“That event was nothing special. I was on my way home when you called. I stopped to get you a few things before coming here.”

"Just a few things?" You gazed at the mound of items Rafayel had just purchased and set on the floor. "Why does it look like you bought everything in the store?"

Rafayel grinned at you. He softly aided you in getting down, leaning your back against the cushion and placing your feet on the couch. After that, he began taking out everything from those bags, which startled you a lot.

He had purchased you sanitary products in the form of pads, panties, tampons and even menstrual cups. One of each type and brand. There were also several pain relievers, vitamins and more. When he noticed your amazement, he said:

“Since I don't know which type you usually use, I bought one of each.”

Rafayel laughed. And you, even though your face was pale, felt so content due to his silliness.

“You could have just asked me.” You responded.

“I won't be able to see your surprised smile then. Since I've made you laugh, I must be a fantastic boyfriend, right?”

You slumped entirely back on the couch, still laughing but murmuring: "You must be a fantastic fool."

Lemurians' bodies are not like humans, you appreciated Rafayel's efforts to learn about your cycle and care for you in this manner. He plopped down on the couch next to you, lifted your legs and placed them on his lap. His slender hands rubbed them gently.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt much. Just mild cramps.”

Rafayel nodded. He still remembered you often got cramps in your legs every time your period came. He continued massaging your legs before moving on to your tummy.

“What about this place?”

When your lower abdominal contractions resumed, you let out a tiny cry. Rafayel immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“I-It's okay…” You tried to smile. “I'll probably feel better after a good rest.”

Rafayel's expression shifted slightly. His hand returned to your lower abdomen, continuing to gently rub it. “There you go again. Just say you're hurt when you're in pain. No need to try to act strong in front of me. Did you forget about our agreement last month? Whenever you have your period and are so weak like this, I will become your bodyguard.”

In the lying position, you could see half of Rafayel's face illuminated in the warm glow of the nightlight. His eyes were both concentrated and kind as he continued to ease the pain in your stomach. Suddenly, you couldn't help but jab your finger into his face. He pouted and puffed out both cheeks. Just like a puffer fish.

“Okay, it's all my fault. Now I will let Rafayel take care of me without worrying that I'd bother you.”

"Good. Even though I don't know how to take care of humans, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!”

Rafayel joyfully grasped your hand and kissed the palm to make it less cold. He continued rubbing your abdomen, singing a melody that put you at peace.

“Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here, right next to you.”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 

As a child, you imagined your knight arriving in shining armor on a white horse.

It turned out that your knight did not have a horse, but rather a white Hunter's uniform and a coat that he had just removed to wrap around your waist.

It happened when Xavier and you had just finished dealing with the Wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon City. Late at night, an unusual incident occurred. You hurriedly arrived to take on the task, unaware as that time of the month had come.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied with work to remember when your period would start. After finishing the task, you were dismayed to realize that the blood on your dress was not the blood of the Wanderers at all.

Xavier discovered it through your frightened eyes and trembling body. Immediately, he took off his coat, wrapped it around your waist to cover the blood stains, and even carried you a long way home on his back.

Your arms were wrapped around Xavier's neck, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. You felt so embarrassed to let him catch you in such a messy state. However, Xavier continued to soothe and console you. He said:

"It's not a problem at all. You don't need to be embarrassed about this very normal thing."

Even though it still did not feel right, you said nothing more. You were exhausted enough, and your aching body was screaming for a rest.

Xavier took you back to your apartment. You thanked him profusely and quickly went to take a shower. After that, sensing the silence outside, you assumed that Xavier had returned to his home. Unexpectedly, you caught a pack of painkillers on the table. Next to it was his phone.

You did not intend to peek, but because the phone screen was still on, you accidentally saw the content that Xavier was reading: How to take care of your girlfriend during her periods.

You chuckled to yourself. It turned out Xavier was learning how to take care of you. Then, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the phone back.

“Are you done? Take your pill now."

Xavier gave you a cup of warm water. You smiled: "I thought you went home."

He slowly dropped himself into the seat next to you. “You are so hurt. How can I go home?”

"I'm alright. I'm going to sleep soon, tomorrow I'll feel better.”

Xavier did not seem to take your word for it. He grasped your hands.

“Aren't you going to be in pain for two or three days to a week?”

“Did you just read that on the internet?”

Xavier pondered for a time before nodding: “I... am not very familiar with these things. But I'll stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile. Xavier got you a painkiller. After taking it he let you lean on the sofa, held your hands tightly, rubbed and breathed on them to bring some warmth.

After a while, your lower abdomen started to hurt. Xavier expressed concern as he noticed your expression:

“It hurts a lot, doesn't it? May I give you a massage?”

He waited for your approval with a nod before placing his hand on your tummy. He gently stroked it clockwise and inquired: "Is this better?"

You shook your head. One hand pointed to the lower abdomen, somewhat below where Xavier's hand was lying. “Here.”

“I see.”

Xavier's fingers went lower, causing you to flush slightly. Xavier said again:

“I only have two hands. One is warming your right hand, the other is massaging your belly. What should I do with your left hand?"

You gazed down at your hand. It wasn't chilly enough to warrant staying warm, but Xavier insisted on it. He also came up with a new idea:

“How about you put your left hand on me.”

You were astonished for a second. "Put it… on you?"

"Yes. Here..." Xavier raised his shirt slightly, showing his abdomen, and glanced at you with anticipation. You sheepishly placed your hand there, and he pulled his shirt down again. “Is it warm?”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. The warmth from his body made you feel heated within. Xavier proceeded to rub your hand and belly. Your hand, which had been put on his body for a short period of time, now became restless. It crept gently upward, to where you could feel his heartbeat quickening.

Xavier stared at you, considered for a time, then said nothing. Since he had let it slide, your hand glided down, past a layer of firm muscles, and then a bit further…

“If you continue to be so naughty, I'll get angry.”

Xavier leaned close to your ear and murmured, his tone irritated, but his gestures seemed to lean heavily on you.

Your fingers twitched slightly as you attentively watched Xavier's slightly furrowed expression. He went on to say: "When I'm angry, it will be quite terrifying. So be a good girl for me.”

Your hand, which was resting in Xavier's, was drawn to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses against it with heated breath. His eyes darkened somewhat; perhaps it was simply the light. You whispered an apology and returned your hand to its previous position. Xavier gazed at you with a small smile.

"If you're sleepy, just lean on me."

"Yes." You responded gently, placing your head on his shoulder and yawning loudly. No matter what the situation was, with him by your side, you would always be safe.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 

You were astonished when Zayne showed up at your door late at night after his shift. Seeing your pale and fragile appearance, he asked you to go to the bedroom for some rest. After faltering a few steps, you nearly collapsed to the floor.

Fortunately, Zayne's dominant arms caught you in time. With one quick movement, he lifted you up with ease.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

Zayne said, and you obediently followed. He carried you to your room, put you on the bed, and drew the blanket over you.

"Give me your hands." You placed your hands on his. Zayne stroked your hands briefly to warm them up before placing them beneath the blanket. "I will make you some tea. Remember to keep yourself warm."

You nodded sheepishly. Your eyes followed Zayne's wide back as it vanished beyond the bedroom door, and you wondered how he knew you were on your period.

You were not convinced this was a coincidence since Zayne prepared you a cup of jujube tea that he had brought with him. He used to give you that drink on days like this. He said it would make the pain less severe. And it was true.

"Drink this. Then eat the red dates, too."

Zayne handed you a cup of tea that he had just blown to cool down the heat. He sat down next to you on the bed. You ate a jujube, turned to look at him, and noticed his palm was already open in front of you.

“Spill it out here.” He said. You looked at him for a moment and then did what you were told. Zayne smiled with satisfaction, patted on your head, then took back the almost empty cup of tea from your hand to it on the night table.

“Feeling better?” Zayne inquired pleasantly as he assisted you in lying back on the bed. 

You smiled faintly and said:

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit better.”

He laughed at your childish behavior. “If it hurts too much, you'll have to go to the hospital.”

You frowned and shook your head vigorously.

“Don't want to? If so, you need to get a good night's sleep. When you wake up, you will definitely be better.”

You gently tugged on Zayne's arm, whispering: "So... Can I get special care from Dr. Zayne? That way I'll get better faster..."

He looked at you with smiling eyes then nodded. You shifted slightly to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him to lie next to you. He instructed. He said:

“Turn around. Then slightly bend your knees closer to your stomach.”

You did what he told you. Your back turned to him, and very soon, you felt the warmth from his body enveloping you.

Zayne embraced you from behind. One of his hands went under the pillow to lift your head up a bit, the other was placed on your stomach. His hand appeared to be large enough to cover your entire stomach. With a delicate touch, his hand began to travel in a circular rhythm on your lower belly.

At first, you felt ticklish and heated given the embarrassment caused by his touch. In addition, Zayne's steady breath was blowing on your hair from behind. He asked:

“Feeling better yet?”

"Yes." You replied softly. “Doctor Zayne's hand is so warm…”

You caught his quiet laughter. He pressed his body closer to you, while you just wanted to hide your face in the pillow. Then, you suddenly remembered what you had wanted to ask him just now:

“How did you know my period would start tonight? You even brought me tea.”

“Can you guess how?”

“Hmm… Let's see. You knew the exact date last month even though I didn't tell you about it... And the month before that too..."

Doctor Zayne allowed you to think about it for a minute. Zayne's knowledge of the days your menstrual cycle would start was most likely due to his perfect memory. Thinking about this, you turned around and his lips brushed your forehead.

"Eh…"

You froze for a second. Doctor Zayne gazed at you. He was so near that you forgot what you were about to say.

"You've got the answer yet?"

Your face became as crimson as the jujube tea. His breath danced over your cheeks as you responded:

“Um… I already knew the answer… Dr. Zayne is so busy, yet he still remembers my cycle?”

“I remember everything related to you.” Zayne spoke, his expression very serious and full of concern. You reluctantly turned aside.

"T-Thank you…"

You noticed Zayne's body pressing closer to yours. He buried his face in your hair and the nape of your neck, his hand continuing to rub your lower abdomen. He whispered:

“Get well soon. Although I hope that what makes you better is not painkillers or tea… but me…”

The corners of your mouth stretched out, smiling so widely that you could not close it. You grabbed his rough hand that was placed on your stomach and replied:

“Doctor Zayne has always been my elixir!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

The door to your room opened in the middle of the night, and Caleb emerged, blocking the entire entrance. He was holding a hot compress bag, a glass of milk, and sanitary pads.

"I'm here to rescue you, Pipsqueak."

Caleb turned on the nightlight to see your pale face and unkempt hair. You were writhing on the bed, in anguish from your period. You could only send him a text message with the strawberry emoji and a sobbing expression. He arrived at your bedside about five minutes later.

He assisted you up, gave you some painkillers, and then pressed the hot compress bag on your stomach. You frowned.

"Do you need to be so harsh with someone who is sick?"

"It's on you for not listening to me. Even though you knew you were about to start your period, you still had the urge to drink lots of cold drinks. You only listen to me when you're in pain?"

You grimaced and rolled over on the bed. Due to your sudden movement, you got cramps in your shoulder blades. You cried loudly for help. Caleb just sighed in helplessness. He helped you lie upright again and rubbed your shoulders.

“If I'm not here, who would you whine to?”

Since you knew Caleb was home, you texted him. However, you did not say anything after that. The anguish had utterly drained you. Caleb couldn't stand to torment you any longer after knowing about your situation. He leaned you on his lap and helped you sip your pain reliever and warm milk. The hand on your back kept rubbing you.

"Is it so painful? "Can you try to get some sleep?"

You replied by shaking your head. Caleb patted you some more. "Then I will stay here with you. Okay?"

This time you nodded. Caleb drew you closer. He removed the hot compress bag from your tummy and began rubbing it with his hand. All of a sudden, your childhood came back, when you had your period for the first time and Grandma was not home; there was only Caleb. Even though you had learnt in advance that all girls would have to go through her period every month, you were nevertheless terrified when it arrived. Fortunately, Caleb was by your side. He raced to get sanitary pads for you, poured hot tea, and helped you warm your hands and feet.

At that time, you were really timid. And perhaps from there you saw the differences between you and Caleb. Both of you were no longer innocent children. This unusual feeling also steadily grew since. 

"Lucky you're here…" You whispered, a hand softly tapped on Caleb's.

"Of course. I'm always by your side, pipsqueak." He responded, then lavished you with several delicate kisses on your hair.

"Caleb… Don't disappear, okay?"

Surprised, he said, "Where can I disappear to?I still have to comfort you with your favorite meals tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" You instantly recalled having a date with Caleb at the amusement park. But this unexpected menstrual cycle ruined that plan. "I'm sorry…"

"No problem." Caleb stroked you on the head. “You can compensate me another day. For now, you just need to rest well.”

“But I still feel like it's my fault… It's been a while since you could have a day off, yet we can't go out…”

Caleb smiled gently. He tucked your loose hair behind your ear. When he looked into your eyes, he said:

“If you're bored, we can watch the series you like together tomorrow. Or play some games.”

Upon hearing that, your mood brightened a little. You loved spending with Caleb, whether it was a date outside or just hanging out at home. They all brought joy to you.

Caleb placed a kiss on your forehead. He went on:

“Don't think too much about it. Go to sleep now so you'll have the strength to bother me again tomorrow."

You laughed. Caleb was always such a teaser, but that was the reason why you were so happy around him.

Coaxing you for a while, when you started to fall into a deep sleep, Caleb whispered softly in your ear:

“Being able to come home and be with my pipsqueak, that's the best kind of vacation for me.”

[scene-iii]

OKAY WAIT. (i only have a loose idea of the tnbc event thanks to translations BUT WHAT IF)

Skully is one of the few members of Ramshackle Dorm, & during a trip to Foothill Town, he stumbles across the Nightmare Before Christmas book. He's sucked in and meets the NRC students. The story plays out and he's sent back to his time, centuries before any of his new friends are born.

He doesn't know this, of course, having forgotten everything. But there's this feeling of want in his chest, not only for a grand Halloween (a day full of life for the dead, much different from his previous ideals) but also for a friend.

He's always longed for friends, but why does his heart ache like he just lost one?

It takes some time, maybe a few weeks, as he tries to decipher his thoughts and feelings to figure out what's wrong. He spends most of his time planning the perfect Halloween to bring the holiday back onto the calendar; something more inviting, something that'll spread the joy he's recently begun to feel about the holiday.

"What gets people up and running? Hm... Perhaps music? Haunting and jaunty melodies would suffice... Why not dance as well...?!"

"Oh, I do adore a pitch-black pallet, but... There's no harm in adding color, right? It's all the rage these days anyways... Perhaps orange, to match pumpkins would be a good start?"

He's not quite sure where these ideas came from, but the ghosts of Ramshackle seem enthusiastic when he shares his thoughts. He has no one else to listen to his plans, and decides, what's the harm with talking to the ghosts? (The ghosts are pleasantly surprised at Skully's change of heart, and will do all they can to encourage this new path.)

Eventually, Skully begins to remember bits and pieces of his time in the book ("I could never forget an encounter with the lovely Jack-sama!" He says. Really, it's the idea of the friends he made that claw the event to the front of his mind).

Most of all, he remembers a magicless human. Oh, how sweet they were, even when he made some rash decisions. Among all the boys in his tale, the beast tamer was his closest companion—even if it were only for a little while.

He recounts the adventure in the book as best he can to the ghosts, seeing as no one else could believe him. A magical book that takes you far away? Who ever heard of that? The ghosts hang on his every word, laughing and gasping at the wonderous characters in Skully's story.

Halloween is a hit at NRC, and once he graduates, Skully decides to share Halloween with the rest of the world. The ghosts wave their old friend goodbye and safe travels, watching him part with spectral tears in their eyes.

The years pass, with Skully now departing from this world, and Ramshackle has fallen into ruin.

Until one day, a magicless beast tamer arrives in Twisted Wonderland, and is sent to live in Ramshackle.

The ghosts are overjoyed at having company after so long, but they can't help but be excited for a different reason.

After all, the King of Halloween's dearest friend has finally appeared.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Soo, for the event: "Please leave him, I know I'm not perfect but for you i'll try, I promise i'll try"

Or something like that

~1k words. (They're idiots in love)

You knew Jason Todd would never be yours. Knew it when you were barely a teenager and just entering high school. Knew it when he miraculously returned from the dead. Knew it when he made a name for himself as a hero.

It wasn’t just the fact he was consistently voted one of the most attractive vigilantes in the Gotham Gazettes annual popularity contest. No, it was the fact that Jason Todd belongs among legends and myths, and you? You were none of those things.

You weren’t delusional to believe yourself worthy of him, not when he walked with gods and monsters and always seemed to come out on top. So, you buried your feelings, buried them so deep that no one batted an eye when you started dating.

Your relationships never seemed to last long, though, not when they always seemed to have a problem with your best friend being a guy, and then a bigger problem with said best friend being your roommate.

But your most recent boyfriend has managed to last longer than any of your previous relationships. You thought it was a good sign, that maybe you could move on from your age-old crush.

Your heart had other plans. It didn't help that your boyfriend didn't seem to exactly care about you either. He seemed more interested in his video games, and in dragging you along to whatever parties his friends are throwing.

It was obvious, to everyone really, he was using you as some kind of arm candy. You figured it was only fair, you were using him too, even if he didn't know.

Your friends were at least nice about it, even as you brushed off their concerns that you deserved better. Jason, though? He couldn't seem to let it go.

It was almost an everyday conversation for the past week. He'd never been so opposed to any of the people you’ve dated before, but he's treating your boyfriend like he has a personal vendetta.

Sharp glares whenever he picks you up, biting remarks to have you home safe. Those you could deal with, but the near lectures? The insistence that your boyfriend is the wrong guy for you? It's aggravating. You know your boyfriend is wrong, but you can't exactly have what you want.

“He won't make you happy,” Jason grumbles, face furrowed as you sit down on the couch.

“I'm not marrying the guy,” You huff, making a face right back at him. You've been having the same back and forth for days, and you really can't figure out why. Sure, your boyfriend sucks, but he's not hurting you.

Jason looks at you like he's affronted that the idea of marriage is even on your mind, “He's a bum.”

“He's– okay, but he brought me those goldfish,” you protest, gesturing towards the kitchen as if to prove your point.

He cocks his head at you, tone clearly unimpressed, “The ones in the snack bag? Doll, I think they were his leftovers.”

You wince a little, unable to deny his claim as you try to find any good in your relationship, “He texts me goodnight.”

“So do half your friends. And me. I say goodnight to you,” he points out, put out by your instance to defend your boyfriend.

“That's different,” you mumble, dropping your gaze. You find it kind of embarrassing, the way you're still searching for his approval even if you don't particularly care for your current relationship.

“Not really,” he sighs out, and carefully sinks to his knees in front of you to grab your hand. It snaps your attention back to his face. “Look,” he starts slowly, “I just want you to have the best, and he's– he's only gonna make you miserable, sweetheart.”

“What does it matter? Nothing changes if I'm with him or if I'm not,” You grumble, trying not to focus on the way his warmth seeps into your skin.

He looks increasingly conflicted at your words, squeezing your hand as he speaks, “I could treat you better. The way you should be treated.”

Your breath hitches. That's– there's no way. It has to be some kind of joke. He's pitying you, maybe. Or it's some sort of twisted sense of responsibility towards you.

But he keeps talking, voice low like he’s trying not to send you running, “Please leave him, I know I'm not perfect, but for you I'll try, I promise I'll try."

“What are you saying,” You ask weakly, unable to face the possibility that he means any of it.

He meets your gaze, firm and resolute. He sets his jaw like he's working up the courage to spill all his secrets, “I'm saying that I would make you happy. I don't know if it would be great, I don't even know if it would even be good, but I would make sure you were happy. I– you mean the world to me.”

He breathes out your name, raises your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles, “I want you to be happy.”

You think you might be dreaming. Never in your wildest fantasies did you ever consider Jason Todd would be willing to tie himself to you. But there's no waver in his face, no lie in his eyes.

“Just think about it, sweetheart. We're already– you're already the most important person to me. Taking another step together wouldn't be so scary, right” he prompts gently, and you can only dumbly nod in response.

The smile that spreads across his face is intoxicating, and it almost has you agreeing to the whole idea immediately.

“Good, good,” he murmurs, standing up and sending you another wide grin. His voice grows more confident as awe fills your face, “You think on it tonight, doll, break up with him tomorrow, and tomorrow night? I'll take you on a date. A real date. Something you'll like.”

He sounds excited, even eager at the thought, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. It's hardly the first time he's done it, but it feels different this time, special. “Just think on it,” he tells you, smile easy and inviting.

He leaves you on the couch to think about it. It doesn't take long for you to decide. After all, your boyfriend will understand, you've never been good at saying no to Jason Todd.

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem reader, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general cm content

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. inspired on season 4 spence

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Longs days at work were usually your favorite— unless they induced an unhealthy amount of stress on you.

Unfortunately, today had been one of those days. To start off, Hotch called you in earlier, around six in the morning, due to an emergency statement issue he needed you to put together regarding your recent Unsub. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile for the specific serial killer the BAU was hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. Talking about woman getting raped and murdered and left in the middle of the streets wasn’t the most soul-fueling aspect of your job.

Your body begged for a nap— So did your brain.

The Unsub was attacking woman throughout the city of New York, so the BAU team opted on staying situated at some random hotel for the remaining of the week in order to get advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch once again asked you to stay behind and help Prentiss and Morgan with a few files. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

As another crack in your neck echoed throughout your head, you began questioning if your job was actually paying you enough.

Those extra two hours felt even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan, whom to you resembled very close the figure of a brother. Irrevocably, excruciatingly annoying, but someone you cared for deeply.

Except for right now.

It was now ten. It was dark outside as you practically dragged yourself into the hotel lobby with Morgan and Prentiss tagging along much more actively, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. The heels of your feet were pulsating and you desperately needed to close your eyes. Your back felt terribly cramped due to being hunched over for so long at your desk so it came to no one’s surprise when you grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Back problems?” Morgan dared, voice coming dangerously close to a tease. “At your age?"

You glared back at him, sending warning signs through your piercing gaze that he should be very careful with where he stepped.

"No,” Your voice was clenched. “These stupid hotel mattresses are utter crap and I was in some weird position last night."

“What kind of positions?” Emily eyed you from the side. You looked over at her, thinking you may of heard some suggestiveness laced in her tone. You caught a familiar evil glint in her eyes and realization dawned upon you, realizing what she had meant.

Your cheeks buzzed with heat as you jumped to your own defense. “Sleeping positions!”

You cringed internally, feeling mortified and annoyed and— tired. The two of them clearly had enough hours of sleep the night before to be in a cheery enough mood to tease you.

“I’m too tired to deal with the two of you,”

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" Derek remarked while patting your head. You scowled, swatted his hand away urgently.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep and not hear you guys make fun of me,” Emily checked her watch and elbowed Derek’s side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, finally putting you out of your misery. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction of the lobby, which was where her and Morgan’s rooms were.

There had been some sort of room distribution problem upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right.

"You need me to walk you to your room?" Morgan asked without any teasing in sight, like he was genuinely concerned.

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shrugged. "But thanks tough guy. Reid’s probably still up waiting for me."

Emily made a face before they nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their respective rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator, body heavy with sleep. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall behind you with a thud. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fear trickling throughout your spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room.

You hastily made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and slipped it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room with a bit of urgency.

"It’s me Spence," You reassured, walking into the hallway and leaning against the wall that led towards the room.

You took in the sight in front of you and smiled happily. Satisfaction tan deep within you, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. So casually relaxed

His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose and a book he had decided to read in his hand. Your smile was tired when he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"Hey," He started, smiling amiably. There was a familiar glow in his gaze that usually lit up when he looked at you. You sucked in a breath through your nose.

“Hi,”

“It’s late,” He said, almost as if coming to the realization of how late you had actually come back.

"Me, Prentiss and Morgan were at those files longer than expected— I'm exhausted." He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned grabbing your shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually slept in on the way to the bathroom. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. But long pants made you fidgety and caged. You hated how it felt to turn around in bed a few times and already feel the fabric getting twisted and stuck around your legs.

Besides, Spencers body temperature radiated enough heat to keep you warm, which was another beneficial reason of wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You promptly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you.

You reached up, pulling at the hair tie and freeing your hair from its low bun. Wordlessly, you made it to Spencers side of the bed and he innately threw the duvet cover backwards, allowing you enough space to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, resting your head against his chest.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment. The comfortable surface of his solid chest was cozier than any mattress— even though you always unconsciously hoped you weren’t squishing him.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested your chin above them, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his familiar infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He answered back, smile growing wider. "You look pretty,"

"Don't even," You groaned, not believing a single word that came from him. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't call you in after hours— or before.”

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry with me,” There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, facetiously regarding your angry look.

“I’m not angry, i’m jealous.” You explain, pouting your lips at him. “You have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

Although joking around, you didn’t fail to notice the traces of empathy lingering beneath his gaze. There wasn’t anything Spencer hated more than knowing you were exhausted. He let his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You let out a laugh. "How many of your muscles are cramped after last night?”

“Because of sleep or…?” He trailed, pursing his lips in thought. You groaned, placing your palm across his face to either smother him or prevent him from seeing how flustered you got. You were usually the one making vilgar jokes. It sat differently when Spencer did it, it made you more nervous.

“You’re so stupid,” He laughed underneath your palm and muttered out.

“Actually—“

“Don’t ‘actually’ me,”

Spencer’s teasing, even in your state of utter exhaustion, didn’t leave you cranky or annoyed. It never did, It always did the opposite. You became all mushy and soft when it came to Spencer and every gesture was laced in nothing more than absolute adoration.

He grew quiet as he let his thumb linger across your cheek, realizing the joke had died down. He gazed your face so lovingly, it almost hurt. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Your proximity in age had been the initial reason for a friendship, but then it started shifting into something beyond that and before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends… The majority of your time was spent beside him.

You still recalled with humor how it took a while for him to make a move. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, not at all. But the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he forgot any notion of how to operate like a normal human being. You had found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him— you still did.

Slowly falling in love with each other was probably one of the most cathartic events of one another’s lives because it distinguished such a firm before and after.

Working in the FBI had always felt so loud and caotic, but ever since Spencer, the world became a little more quiet and a little less stressful.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, realizing how all your muscles began melting into his touch.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures.

"I missed you." He hummed, placing a small peck to your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back.

You crooned lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns onto your back with his fingertips. Your body erupted in a string of goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. The jolts of electricity seeped through your spine. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch, so that being said, all these small gestures from him were all the more special.

You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. His insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. Like he could physically see the knots of stress unfold. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up.

There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d typically tease him endlessly.

Nevertheless, he’d still always bend over your slouched position at your desk chair in the morning and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed. Seeing just how close to collapsing you had been when you got to the room, he desperately wanted to draw circles onto your back until you fell asleep.

And god, were his back scratches just what you needed.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically hear yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching the hem and peeking his hand underneath it in order to feel the smoothness of your skin— that and knowing you loved it even more.

When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself. You mumbled quietly, sighing contently. “Hmm,”

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a sleep induced smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words down at you.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He expounded as you watched him with nothing more than complete awe.

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was your favorite thing about him,— other than his smile.

Unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled.

"That and because I love you,"

"I love you— And when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. One of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel sleepy,”

He kissed the crown of your head as you rested . "Wasn’t planning on it.”

[sapphiremusings]

you’re how i pray | aemond targaryen

summary: lady baratheon does not fear her newly wed husband, prince aemond, anymore. she does, however, fear the consummation of their marriage. aemond is eager to show her that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

PART ONE

MASTERLIST

cw: explicit sexual content, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, breeding kink, ooc!aemond (i made him too sweet), baratheon!reader, no use of y/n

With the sound of their marital chamber doors closing behind her, trapping her inside the dimly lit room with only her newly-wed husband before her, Lady Baratheon– or would she be called Lady Targaryen now?– has never felt more nervous. Her heart is racing a thunderous beat within her chest, its rhythm only increasing as she sweeps her gaze across the large, four-poster bed that sits against the wall.

The thought of marrying Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen had once terrified her, and she had spent most of her time in Kings Landing avoiding him and anything else that had to do with her wedding day. But after the events that perspired between the two betrotheds just a few nights ago, she has felt as if she is burning from the inside out, flames licking up her sides and traveling deep into her bones. Recently, she had been avoiding the prince for a much different reason, one that is all the more unfamiliar to her.

She thinks of him constantly. In the morning when she awakes, lying among rumpled sheets with her aching thighs rubbing together, skin flushed from a vivid picture she painted in her mind, where he had bent her over the Iron Throne and licked her cunt fervently once more. During her daily walks around the Keep, holding her breath when she turns every corner, remembering how he had trailed behind her, heavy gaze searing into her back. At night, when she takes her bath, her handmaidens running their fingers through her soapy hair, and she imagines how it would feel to have him beside her, hands roaming her naked flesh as she admires his own bare form. Even in her dreams does he appear, lustful as he does unspeakable things to her, leaving her flustered and ashamed when she comes to.

Aemond hadn’t sought out her company since, or perhaps he had but she had just been too good at evading him. It wasn’t until she was walked down the aisle of the Sept, handed off to the prince by her lord father, that she had seen him since that night. His face gave nothing away as they gazed into each other’s eyes, hands clasped together as the septon spoke, but occasionally she would catch his single lilac eye dip down to her lips. She had wondered then if he has been plagued by the same thoughts, and now, as she stands frozen before him, she feels dizzy at the thought that he too wants her the same way she desperately wants him.

Goosebumps begin to form along her skin, now only covered by a thin nightdress, her handmaidens having undressed her in preparation for the bedding. She finds herself drawing closer to the lit fireplace, eyes lingering on the crackling flames. Aemond is quiet behind her retreating figure, yet she can feel his molten gaze on her timid frame, and she shivers at the familiar feeling. That beautiful eye of his seemed to always follow her, even when she was alone in her chambers late at night did she feel the weight of it, piercing and all-consuming.

She feels bare in her state of undress, the sheer fabric doing little to hide her shape, and when she dares to look down, she flushes red hot at the sight of her nipples, stiff against the cotton. Her arms come up to cover her chest, eyes flickering to the side to look at her husband, who still watches her, lifting his cup to his lips. She has already had her fill of the wine, a special import from Dorne that had tasted tart on her tongue, which left her with a clouded head and the urge to laugh at every little thing that amused her. By her fourth cup, her husband himself had decided she had enough, ending their night with the announcement of the bedding. Thankfully, there was to be no traditional ceremony, but it had still sobered her up immediately.

“Are you cold?”

His voice jolts her from her thoughts, making her turn to face him, her heart nearly stopping in her chest at the sight of him, closer than he was before. No longer does he stand by the table, cup in his hand, stoic in his leathers. Now he stands before her, tunic unclasped, showing his white undershirt, partly opened to let her catch a glimpse of his skin. Her mouth feels dry, and she slowly darts out her tongue to lick her lips, eyes trailing back up to stare into his hooded one. His iris is blown wide, clouded with the same emotion she had seen that fateful night, when he had ducked beneath her skirts and licked her cunt until she was crying out on his skillful tongue. The memory only serves to tighten a coil in her stomach, the very core of her beginning to throb incessantly.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her words have escaped her, throat parched and unwilling to cooperate. Instead, she nods, fingers tightening in their grip on her arms, still crossed over her chest. Aemond hums, dipping his head to nose along the crown of her head, hands making their way to rest above her own, dwarfing them in his grasp. His skin is burning hot, and the feeling of his flesh against her own makes her gasp out, her grip immediately loosening under his, giving him the chance to push her arms down, exposing herself once more. Hands run up them, leaving a trail of flames in their wake, before reaching around her shoulders and pressing flat against her back, pulling her frame against his own.

His lips brush the shell of her ear, breath steady along her cheek. “Let me warm you up, ābrazȳrys.” (Wife).

Flushed together, his warmth seeps through her shift, her nipples hard against his chest. Timidly, she reaches up to tug on his leather tunic, wishing to feel more of him, fingers shaky as she pulls it down his arms. He helps her, throwing it off to the floor, before immediately returning to wrap his arms around her, pressing her closer until she can feel every ridge of his chest beneath their undergarments. His lips begin to travel along her cheek and down her jaw, her hands finding purchase in his hair, the silver tresses feeling like silk between her fingers. In a daze, she searches for his lips against hers, chin dipping down as he comes up to meet her, searing in their wet embrace.

She wishes to never stop kissing him. His tongue is slick as it slides across her own, the taste of wine still lingering around the roof of his mouth, and she blames this for her faltering will, which grows thinner and more precarious the longer his lips are moving in time with hers, his hands gripping her waist tightly. A whimper leaves her lips as he brings a hand up to her shoulder, fingers slipping under the strap of her nightdress, tugging it down before moving to the other side. Her eyes scrunch up as her heart begins to hammer a racing beat within her chest, stomach twirling into a tight knot, and she breaks away from the kiss with a gasp for air. His lips move to trail down her neck, teeth gently nibbling the skin right below her jawbone, and she is quick to bring her hands to grab at his arms.

“I am scared.” Her mouth quivers around the words, her voice barely a whisper. “W-will it hurt terribly?”

Aemond lifts his chin, dark eye flickering across her worried face, flushed from the feel of him against her. “I told you I do not wish to harm you, little storm.”

When she continues to shiver before him, the straps of her dress resting along her forearms, he brings a hand up to caress her soft cheek. Her eyes flutter at the sensation, and she takes a step closer to him, now wishing she hadn’t expressed her fear. She is grateful for his tenderness, something she has never thought him to be, in all his harsh stoicism. A dragon prince, with the fiery blood and temper of a Targaryen royal, whispered to be as mean as the beast he rides. But his touch is gentle, and so are his words, filling her with a warmness that seeps through her veins from head to toe. Slowly, she lifts herself onto the tips of her toes, lips puckering as she embraces him once again.

In her movement, her nightgown slips down her arms, pooling at her feet in a heap of cotton. Aemond groans at the feeling of her bare form pressed against him, pert nipples stiff along his light tunic, and he wraps his arms around her back, pulling her as close to him as he can. Their lips move together in a sensual dance, teeth clashing and tongues rubbing against each other, and even as her toes begin to ache beneath her weight, she still tries to push herself up taller, wishing to melt into him. She brushes her hands down his neck and underneath the collar of his shirt, pushing and tugging until her fingers are scratching along the skin of his chest, warm beneath her fingertips. She nearly sobs at the feeling. “My prince…”

“I am your husband now,” he murmurs against her lips, wet with their shared spit. “I shall be addressed properly.”

They begin to gravitate towards the bed, until her legs bump the very edge of it, the furs and silks that line the mattress sliding across her flesh as she lays back, a whine leaving her as she becomes separated from her husband. He peers down at her, the black pupil of his single eye blown wide, until only a ring of dark violet remains. She resists the urge to cover herself, goosebumps lining the entirety of her as she shivers under his smoldering gaze, and she only hopes that he is satisfied with her. Back on Storms End, her septa had instilled in her the importance of pleasing her future husband, saying that if he does not find her comely she may never be blessed with babes.

Aemond squashes these worries with a satisfied rumble. “My perfect little wife…”

She shyly smiles, the arousal between her legs growing slicker the longer he stares, and she unconsciously rubs her thighs together. He follows this movement, hands moving to unbuckle his belt, lips twitching as she holds her breath, watching as he begins to undress. Soon enough, he is as naked as her, and he joins her on the soft bedding, sitting himself between her legs, which he presses open with a lift of her knees. His palms are hot as they slide along her thighs, until they rest on her hips, which he tilts upwards, leaning down with a pleased hum. Her back instantly arches off the bed as his nose nuzzles within her slick curls, tongue smoothing along her weeping slit, before flicking the very apex of her. A sob escapes her gaping mouth, head thrown back against feathered pillows, fingers scrambling around until they find purchase on the top of his silver head. Unlike last time, he’s quick to press a finger within her, hips bucking upwards at the intrusion, brows furrowed as her pleasure begins to swell over.

“I’ve been dreaming about this pretty cunny,” he grumbles against her, pressing another finger in, joining the other. She squirms at the sting of it, but when he curls them upwards, her hips still at the white-hot flash of pleasure that hits her. “So sweet… I could lick you forever.”

His words sound far away, her ears clogged in the throes of her rapture, and tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she moans. “Aemond…”

Between his tongue and his fingers, she can feel her peak beginning to wash over her, and she quickly wiggles her hips, trying to push herself away from his ministrations. He doesn’t allow her to go far, bringing his other hand up to press against her stomach, and she keens at the feeling of his weight over her womb, intensifying the pleasure and bringing about her end with a shattered cry. His tongue laps up her release, fingers still curling upwards against that spot inside her that makes her feel as if she is floating above her body, even as she whines at the overstimulation that starts to tingle across her. Another wave begins to rise within her, causing her to kick out her legs from beneath him, unable to stay still.

Aemond groans as she gushes around his fingers once more, tongue reaching down to catch every last drop. “There we go… good girl.”

Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, whining as he pulls away, hands immediately reaching out for him. He pushes his two fingers into his mouth, cleaning himself off, before crawling over to rest upon her, his lips finding hers in another searing kiss. She wraps her quivering legs around his waist, jolting against the feel of him pressed between her legs, hot and hard as it slides across her wetness. Her arms tighten around his shoulders, pulling him down to lay atop her, wishing to feel him everywhere. When she thinks about him inside her, chest pressed against hers, lips locked as they indulge in a lover’s embrace, she feels an overwhelming sense of adoration for her newly-wed husband. His kisses, despite the ravenous nature of them, are sweet, and so is the way he holds her, arms slipping beneath her as he hugs her to his chest, their hearts thumping together.

“Husband…” she whispers, her lips resting below his, in the dip of his strong chin. “Please…”

His eye opens to stare into her pleading ones, nose nuzzling along her cheek. “What do you need, ābrazȳrys?”

She slowly rocks her hips upwards, the immediate friction causing Aemond to hiss, jaw clenching as his eye flutters closed. Her lips begin a trail across his face, stopping right under the leather eyepatch he still wears. It’s the only piece of fabric between them, and as she brushes along the jagged scar that peeks out from beneath it, she frowns. “Will you show me, husband?”

He tenses, pulling away with a furrowed brow. She flushes pink under his stare, yet doesn’t back down from her request, bringing her hands up to cradle his jaw. Her fingers slip under the leather strap, eyes searching his own, waiting patiently. It seems like an eternity passes before he dips his chin in a nod, closing his eye once more as he allows her to slip the patch over his head. The sight surprises her. A gleaming sapphire, broken skin surrounding its edges, glares back at her. He’s as still as a statue as she gazes at his wound, and it isn’t until she lands a soft kiss against the jewel does he open his eye, curiously. Instead of fear or disgust, she merely looks at him in awe, a small smile on her face as she brings a finger up to run across the stone.

“It’s beautiful,” she presses a chaste kiss to his lips this time, a hand brushing back his hair. “You are beautiful, husband.”

His eye searches hers for any trace of dishonesty, yet he finds none. At her words, he surges forward again, tongue slipping between her gasping mouth, the ache in his cock becoming unbearable as he ruts against her, hissing when the tip of him catches along her wet slit. Her hands scramble for purchase, resting atop his shoulders, fingernails digging into the bare skin. Thighs clench around his waist, trying to pull him in, and he pulls away to look down, the sight of him nestled between the lips of her soaked cunt the most arousing thing he’s ever seen. She mewls, wanton as she squirms beneath him.

“Shhh,” he hushes her, his hand going down to wrap around his pulsing length, bringing it to press against her entrance. “It’s alright, little storm.”

When he pushes in, she squeezes her eyes shut, mouth agape in a quiver as he slowly enters her. He holds himself above her, arms flexing as he sharply inhales, the scrape of his jaw brushing against her lips. The pain is slight, and her cunt is greedy as it pulls him in, her soft walls clenching around him as he bottoms out, until his thighs are pressed against her own, chest heaving as she adjusts to the feeling of being filled. Her arms wrap themselves around his torso, pulling him down until he rests atop her once more, trapping her into the soft mattress, hips starting to thrust in a slow rhythm. She presses kisses along his neck and jaw, tongue lapping against the skin, relishing the taste of him. When she begins to inch her hips upwards, matching the steady pace of his, he groans, bringing himself up to rut into her faster, hand going under the bend of her knee, lifting it to rest higher around his waist. She lets out a cry at the new sensation, his cock deeper now as he slams into her.

“You were made for me,” he whispers, lips brushing against her own, swallowing down her moans. “My pretty little wife… made to take my cock.”

A flush forms across her bare chest, the tips of her ears going hot as she whines at his words. She adores how he calls her wife, even as he drills into her, the sounds of their coupling echoing throughout the candlelit chambers, and she can’t help but moan out ‘husband,’ the word saccharine on her tongue. He seems to take pleasure in this, his pace becoming rougher, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he sits up on his knees, looking down at her with a dark eye. His sapphire glimmers as the glow of flames dance across it, and she finds herself attracted to the jewel like a moth to a flame, mouth agape as she stares into it, pushing herself up to embrace him again. She grinds down against him, the scratch of his pubic hair rough as she presses herself harder, fingers tracing up the side of his maimed face.

Under her attention, Aemond grows frenzier, ravenous as he thrusts into her, his strong arms wrapped around her back, pressing her close to him. She leans in to kiss him, their mouths slick, her tongue tracing the inside of his mouth, savoring the taste of wine that still lingers. Just as quickly as the last two, her peak begins to rush over her, her moans growing louder as tears begin to dot at the corners of her eyes. He gazes at her face, watching the way her brows furrow, sweat gathered along her hairline, strands of hair stuck to her damp cheeks, and she rests her forehead against his as she clenches down, alight with pleasure, grinding down so her pearl rubs along his navel. His cock twitches within her, and he releases himself with a shudder, keening forward until her back hits the mattress again, hips stuttering as he rides out their highs.

“Are you going to give me a babe, ābrazȳrys? Gonna take my cock every single night until you’re pumped full of my seed, hm? Ñuha dōna byka jelmāzma…” (My sweet little storm).

He rambles on, and she moans and whines as she lays limp, in a daze after peaking three times, her cunt still fluttering as he spills into her, the warmth of his liquid coating her womb. She nods at his words, arms still wrapped around him, sated among the soft sheets and feathered pillows. When he finally finishes, he lays beside her, his cock still nestled within her as he maneuvers her frame until she is on her side, leg across his own, fronts pressed together once more. He embraces her, and she nearly expects him to start thrusting into her again, yet he merely nuzzles against her, skin warm against her own. She has never felt happier, she thinks, as she gazes across at him, eyes trailing along his bare chest, flushing when she looks lower at the sight of his soft cock inside her. His lips quirk into a small smile, barely noticeable, but she basks in it anyway.

“Did I please you, husband?”

A hand brushes against her exposed breasts, fingers circling around a stiff nipple. Her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. “The gods have blessed me with a perfect little wife, my love. I wish to never be parted from you, or this pretty cunt of yours.”

She smiles, a wide grin that makes her cheeks ache. He leans over to kiss her for what seems like the thousandth time that night, and she meets him halfway, her heart swelling within her chest as she holds her husband close. Between her legs, she can feel him begin to harden once again, and her own slick grows as his tongue runs across the edge of her teeth, and she wonders how she was ever afraid of him; this handsome dragon prince who can turn his enemies into ash, but caress her with the softest touch and the sweetest lips. Aemond hums as she begins to move her hips, pulling back to look at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“I think we should try again,” she gives him an innocent look, reaching a hand out to dance across his chest. “Just to make sure the seed takes…”

Her laughter bounces off the walls as he sits up, a devious smirk on his face, fingers digging into her sides. It turns into moaning, hips snapping into hers, and she becomes tangled in the sheets, blissful under the hands of her terrifying prince husband.

*

A/N: i know it’s been so long i am soooo sorry!!!! i kinda just lost inspiration for this lil two-parter, and tbh i kinda really hate how this turned out but it’s been like 4 months and i know a few of u were looking forward to this so… i hope u guys enjoy it nonetheless <3

TAGLIST: @jmablurry @minas27 @veggie-eggrolls @anthonys-viscountess @letmeloveyouuuu @bellaisasleep @blackswxnn @imaginativeworld @littybeech @m1sschanel @ozzeryyyo @beebeechaos @ka1afbr

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. "won't miss your favourite cock?" : 

﹙ yandere mad doctor x fem assistant reader x yandere mad scientist  ﹚.𖹭 ݁

﹙ kinktober : blackmail ﹚yandere ˖ boss ˖ mad doctor ˖ snake monster ˖ hybrid monster ˖ mad scientist characters . . . verse 209 jìngyí x fem reader x rishen !! 🍒 : 

you are now regretting your nights of passion with your bosses. because when you try to resign after witnessing some horrific things done by their hands - well, let's just say that jìngyí very promptly reminds you of a few photos in his possession. along with how your body will always crave him and his husband.

﹙ cws ﹚: dub con ˖ blackmail ˖ thigh riding ˖ pussy smacking ˖ penetrative sex ˖ mouth play ˖ rough sex ˖ threesome ˖ use of slut/whore ˖ some degradation ˖ office sex ˖ multiple orgasms | wc : 1.9k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: i have no idea what I was on when I wrote this but istg these two had me loopin 

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

“Now why couldn’t you be a good girl like this when you first stepped in?”

Your trembling knees split over a dark pants leg. Calloused palms graze the exposed, soft flesh of your thighs. With long fingers curling into your supple skin and pulling you closer. Pressing your folds covered by black panties down onto his leg.

A soft mewl drips from your lips before your hand raises to your flushed face. Shame filing you to your core as you are ground down on your boss’ thigh. If only to whimper when he circles your wrist with his grip and pins it to the arm of his ebony office chair.

“Now,” Jìngyí tuts. A small spank delivered to your ass before he’s pressing you down further. The pressure combined with the bouncing of his leg twists pleasure through your core and your head throws back slightly. “Why hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart? Let your boss see how well you ride his thigh.”

The slow smile on his perfect lips made you wish to slap it off of his gorgeous face. Sharp features that hang a dark expression at the idea of doing this to you.

Again.

Tears of frustration well in your eyes. If only to spill when two fingers reach down, pull your panties to the side and stroke at your little clit. “A-Ah - sir,” is all you can whine. Hips bucking into his a bit more at the swirls of pleasure.

“There you go.” Jìngyí’s dark croon makes your ears wish to bleed. All you can do is helplessly rock yourself down on his thigh. On his thumb that mercilessly rubs at your throbbing clit. Just to see the way that you spill all over the fabric of his pants.

“I thought you enjoyed my touch? You did so last time. Oh how you spilled.”

His hand yanks your thighs up a bit. So that he can deliver a small smack to your weeping cunt before he’s shoving you back down and grinding you rougher. A yelp, then long, whining moans pull from your lungs and your hands shakily take his shoulders.

The look on your face says it all. Of course, you have always been painfully attracted to him - and his husband - you even found yourself between them on a few nights of passion. But recent events drove you to try your luck at quitting. Fearful of those that you called superior. Those you thought were gentle, benevolent.

Which is what wounded you up here. Riding on your boss’ lap after he so promptly reminded you of what exactly he has on your name. . . the scatter of nude photographs you so foolishly consented to blare on his desk. Evidence of your naivety.

Perhaps you should simply enjoy it. You do. The wonderful feel of the fabric against your quivering slit. His hands all over you. Either gripping at your thighs and grinding you faster or slipping up to cup at your breasts. His rough thumbs running along your perked nipples after a small spit to slick the sensitive flesh.

“How you mewled for me, my dear. Barely wanted me to leave this tight little pussy huh?” The doctor’s deep voice rings against your ear. His hands clamp down on your thighs and slot you over further. Fingers part your folds. Creating the most intense combination of pressure and friction that has you whining out and limping into him. Your hips sloppily grinding as pleasure swells through your being.

“S-Sir - Jìngyí - please,”

“Oh no, darling. Please, cum for me, hmm?”

That drawl in his voice. The way he reaches down to flick at your clit before tracing back up to rub your hard nipples. The feel of his lips is devilish on your neck. His hands. Everything.

You cannot stop yourself from the moan that spills. The desperation in both your tone and actions as you clench up around nothing. The pleasure brings a memory of his thick cock splitting you in two. Milking you for all you’re worth. And -

It’s enough to have you cumming. Creaming on his pants leg as your face falls into his shoulder. Mouthing into his neck as you moan for him. While your hips needily rock into him to ride out your orgasm. Feel that pleasure just a bit longer.

“There you go. That’s my girl. There she is.”

Jìngyí lets out a husky chuckle. Pulling at your thighs again so that you are kneeling over his. An eager tongue swipes across his lower lip at the sight of your essence dripping. Without warning - two fingers swipe along your slit. Stroking a few times before bringing the slick to your mouth.

His eyes said it all. Open darling. And so you do. Greedily taking in your own cum so that you might feel his digits press at the back of your tongue. Hear that deep chuckle of approval.

The hitch in his breath tells you he’s about to speak — if not for the door that slides open. Your heart stops, yet when you try to pull away from his fingers he merely curls them on your tongue and claws at your thigh.

“So,” a smooth voice, practically dripping with velvet, eases into the room. A familiar song that has you pressing your hips down onto Jìngyí’s thigh. “Suppose you were right, gēgē.”

A trail of saliva is all that connects your mouth to the doctor’s fingertips before he spins you around to face his husband’s cunning smirk. Those large hands split your thighs as Jìngyí grinds his hard bulge up into your dripping pussy. Earning a moan for Rishen who only grins at the sight.

“My - is it even considered blackmail at this point?”

He murmurs. Maroon eyes cast a glance to the pictures across the desk - a flash of memory washes over his gaze before the lust is all focused on you again. His smooth hands press down on your inner thighs as he leans over you. Red lips pressing to yours slowly, sensually. You cannot help but whimper.

Realisation rears its head. And your cunt throbs at the idea of being used by the husbands again. It twitches at the mere sight of them exchanging a kiss over your shoulder.

“Such a desperate little thing. But as promised,” Jìngyí sighs with a small shake of his head. “She is all yours first, my love.”

It’s all you heard before blurs find your vision. You aren’t even sure when you wounded up in Rishen’s lap who took his husband’s place in the chair - who you now face as Jìngyí leans against the desk. You couldn’t even remember hearing the buckle of his pants -

All you can feel is his hardened tip running along your wet slit. The mere notion that he’s already hard and ready for you has you whimpering.

“Mister Herrera . . .”

Your croak is greeted by one of those delicate, ring-decorated hands again. Fingers that wrap around your jaw and flex to squish at your face. Pull your head to the side to meet his addicting kisses once more.

“Hmm, darling? Are you scared?” Rishen’s drawl has you squirming. Especially when his tip drags between your folds. Collecting your slick and smearing his own.

“Shouldn’t be. You remember your favourite cock, right?”

And oh, does your pussy remember. It clenches the second he begins easing in. Inch by inch. As though trying to cling to it - make sure he never leaves again. Thank him for filling you to the brim as he always does.

Needy moans spill. Your hips buck at the feel of his dick throbbing in your gummy walls. The way that his hands guide your hips so that he can grind up against all of those perfect spots that have you mewling.

“R-Rish - Rishen,”

His spank to your thigh immediately has you correcting yourself. A trembling - ‘sorry Mister Herrera’ - taking its place before all you are subjected to is hiccups and gasping moans.

He fucks up into you mercilessly. As always. His grip easing from your thighs, to your hips - wrapping around your waist so that his gold rings dig into your skin. The new leverage that he has gives him the perfect force to bounce you like a ragdoll back onto his cock.

“A-Ah - hngh -mngh!”

“Yeah - yeah look at that. You were going to leave this, darling? Leave this cock? Huh?”

You sob and shake your head as the wet plapping of skin fills the room. Rishen makes sure that his balls slap against your fluttering folds repeatedly. Make sure you take all of him so that you can remind yourself what you tried to leave.

It is only when you see a blink in your vision that you look up properly. The sight before you only makes you clench up and cum around Rishen with a whining gasp.

Jìngyí stands there, leaned against the desk with a holographic screen at his right fingertips. Two fingers over a digital camera lens - very obviously recording the scene. You and your sopping cunt taking your other boss’ cock as though you were made for it. Spilling all over his lap as though you hadn’t brought your resignation in this morning.

“Seems like someone is a bit too excited over being filmed,” murmurs the doctor. Resisting the urge to reach his free hand down and stroke over his own bulge.

Rishen’s chuckle mocks your ear. A sharp clap echoes through the room. With the stinging flesh of your ass the evidence of his harsh hand. “Seems so. Ever the needy slut.” His hips piston with more force. If that was even possible. Pounding up into you until you’re throwing your head back and sobbing out apologies.

“P-Please - please - Rihh - Jìng - hngh.”

“Please what, my dear? Please fuck me faster? Please fill me up?”

“Please keep me here? Please keep recording?”

Their taunts bring tears to your eyes and squeeze the air out of your lungs. If not that — then the way that Rishen abruptly stood. Shoving you to the desk so that your legs dangle and rutting against your ass until you’re drooling all over the wood. Eyes rolled back. Cum squirting down your quivering thighs.

“Good little whore. Why leave when your pussy so desperately wants to stay?”

Rishen removes himself with only slap to your sopping cunt. Switching places with Jìngyí who wastes no time in unbuckling his pants and easing a rough hand over your head. So that your face is shoves into the desk. Moans melting into the wood as he presses into your dripping hole.

His groan is heavy. So are his thrusts. Heavier than his husband’s. More demanding - they shook the table even more somehow. All while you can do nothing but take it. Take - and take - and take your favourite cocks until you’re spilling all over the floor.

Dizzy. Pleasure filled. Begging for more. What a fool you were to think you could live without this.

“That’s it. Such a loyal whore.”

“Better get used to it, sweetheart. If you won’t be our secretary - how does our pretty little cumdump sound?

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[anthurak]

So with everything we learned and saw in Episode 4 from Angel, Valentino, Charlie and Husk, here’s a little theory on how the Hotel crew saving Angel from Valentino might play out. Particularly in how Husk’s status as a former Overlord may factor into things.

Because I have a hunch it’s actually going to be Husk, rather than Charlie who gets fed up first and goes out to make a real attempt at getting Angel away from Valentino, given everything we saw between Husk and Angel in this episode. Specifically, Husk aims to lure Valentino into gambling for Angel’s contract.

Now that raises the question of what exactly Husk could gamble with. I see two possibilities:

Option One, Husk full on bluffs Valentino that he still has substantial power as an Overlord and has been hiding it all this time, tempting him with more souls and power. And as we’ve seen most notably in Episode 2, Val in kind of a massive fucking idiot, so I could see him actually falling for this. Essentially, Husk gambles with nothing, save his own soul, for a chance to save Angel.

Option Two, Husk actually gets his power BACK from Alastor. Specifically through fulfilling some mysterious, nebulous condition Alastor set up for him. It could even be that this is what sets up Husk to gamble Val for Angel’s freedom. Alastor returns Husk’s power as an Overlord because he’s curious as to what Husk will do with it now. Which we see, is putting it all on the line again for a chance to save Angel.

Whichever way we get to it, we find Husk in a high-stakes card game with Valentino. And of course, Husk does the classic trope of NOT telling his friends or even the guy he’s doing this for what he’s doing to ‘keep them safe’ and all that. Of course, they do find out. Which will come into play later…

As for the all-important gamble; Husk actually does WIN legitimately against Valentino. However, because Valentino is… well, Valentino he welches on the deal and attacks Husk, and perhaps a recently arrived Angel as well.

Now in the event that Husk was bluffing Valentino the whole time and is actually helpless against a fully-powered Overlord, this would be when Alastor, from afar, actually returns Husk’s own power as an Overlord as some offhand, magnanimous whim. Which of course now allows Husk to actually fight back against Valentino.

What ensues is a full and proper fight between Husk/Angel and Valentino, with all the requisite emotional drama of Angel and Husk admitting their feelings for each other and all of Valentino’s shittiness as a person coming out in force. Maybe like an mlm version of the Bees vs. Adam fight.

However, despite getting his power as an Overlord back, Husk ultimately turns out to not be as powerful as Valentino. Alternatively, perhaps he never gets his power back at all and we just skip to here from Husk winning the bet. Whichever way we get here, Husk and Angel are now at the non-existent mercy of Valentino.

Which is precisely when CHARLIE shows up.

And I imagine what ensues plays out in a flash. Like everyone is only just registering that Charlie has appeared when suddenly everything is on fire. We get only the briefest glimpses, perhaps only in silhouette, of the full-sized horns on Charlie’s head, the great leathery wings coming out of her back and the pitchfork in her hand before she has Valentino by the throat and the mothman starts BURNING, screaming in pain as he is consumed in hellfire.

Basically, I feel that after this episode we are going to see Husk be the one to step up first to try and save Angel from Valentino, given everything we saw between the pair this episode. But at the same time, I think the interactions between Charlie and Valentino, particularly Charlie starting to transform in rage, sets her up as the one who’s going to ultimately put Val down. Specifically via giving us a glimpse at Charlie’s true power.

And I do say glimpse because I imagine the full and proper reveal of Charlie’s ‘Devil Form’ is almost certainly going to be saved for when she’s forced to take on the likes of Adam and the Exorcists, the ones who have been set-up as proper antagonists to Charlie herself.