#But is also all too aware of his recklessness

[okaysonny]

okkkayy, what if jake got his gf pregnant before marriage what would his mom’s reaction be + other big deal members 😶😶?? (love your fics btww!!!)

ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY 😧 ╏ jake kim

a/n: unserious. and thanks anon!

you always use protection. plus, the pill is 99% effective at preventing this. and yet...

"...i'm pregnant"

★ jake stands there with a stupid look on his face because he's stupid.

★ to be honest, he doesn't want to bring a child into the world when he's leading big deal. jake wants to retire before even thinking about it. he loves you, but this isn't something he planned for.

★ has a serious discussion about the risks, making sure you understand the weight of the situation. still, he knows it's your choice in the end. once it's clear you want to keep the baby, jake respects your decision. he's the type to step up no matter what.

★ watches parenting videos at night while rubbing his temples.

★ tells minseon first 😬 this is the part that scares him the most.

★ his mom: pissed as hell 🤣

★ the second jake tells her, she puts out her cigarette with tight lips. he's already sweating.

"jake kim" "...yes, mother?" "are you telling me you got a girl pregnant before putting a ring on her finger?" "t-the thing is..." "like father, like son"

★ she’d ask all the hard questions: how are you going to raise a baby in this life? do you think this is fair to the child? are you ready for this kind of responsibility?

★ anddd i have a feeling that if you're from a 'normal' family, she'd have more reservations. not that minseon is classist, but y'know...

★ jake explains that you always did it safely, so the pregnancy wasn't from recklessness. he's aware of the risks, but it's your decision to keep the baby. he wants to step up and support you.

★ ...that does get her eyes to soften.

"well...in any case, i know you'll do a better job than your own father"

★ i think in canon right now, jake and his mother have a strained relationship. as far as we know, he only visits minseon when he needs something! 😅 + she resents that he supposedly hates his father...yet became a gangster like him and left her on her own...just like gapryong.

★ but minseon also knows that jake didn't inherit his womanizing side. she knows that he'll be a great father, even if he doesn't think so.

★ she may be tough, but deep down, she’s happy about a grandchild...even subtly offers to mind the baby if jake is too busy and you need a break.

★ she ends up cooking for you. the baby needs to be healthy.

now...he needs to tell big deal...

★ sinu would be so happy for jake. he cares about him like a younger brother, so once the initial shock settles, he’d smile and congratulate him properly.

but then it would hit him.

jake, who never seemed to care about relationships in the first place, is having a kid before him.

"god...yeonhui is gonna have a field day with this. you better start saving man. kids are expensive"

★ would yeonhui scare him as a joke? absolutely.

"sinu, what if i accidentally got pregnant? would you step up like jake?" "h-hold on..."

★ you already know jerry would do the absolute most 😭

★ immediately places a loyalty hand on jake's shoulder.

"boss…you’re going to be a father?" his voice is trembling, like jake just told him he's DYING. "i will lay down my life for this child. it is my duty as number 2" "jerry...i didn't even ask you to- are you crying?"

★ jerry starts researching baby vitamins + recommending parenting books. already thinking about making the child wear a tiny big deal jacket.

★ jason and brad feel like the same characters to me. i'm sorry. i guess jason is portrayed as more blunt and serious?

"jake...don't take this the wrong way, but i don't think you know anything about babies" "you don't think i know that, jason?"

★ the girls knit a baby blanket together :') and make one of those "we're so excited to meet you" videos.

★ jake would not half ass being a dad. he’d try his hardest to balance big deal and fatherhood, even though it won’t be easy. but the baby will be loved. from the parents, the girls and big deal.

bonus!

lineman leans back in his chair, surveying the small pile of cash on the table. "alright, i’m locking in my bet — it’s a boy"

lua scoffs. "nah, you’re wrong. it’s definitely a girl. and she’s gonna have him wrapped around her finger before she can talk"

lineman shakes his head. "a girl? we’d have to protect her from all the freaks in this city. a boy would be easier"

"a boy would be just as much trouble!" she rolls her eyes. "but imagine boss jake with a daughter. he’d be like, the ultimate girl dad"

"tch, we’ll see about that. alright, bets are at 50/50. let's see if anyone else wants to-"

"...guys" an all too familiar voice booms behind them.

lineman and lua turn to look at jerry like children caught with the cookie jar.

"you’re betting on boss jake’s child? his future offspring?" he shakes his head in disappointment. "this is incredibly inappropriate"

lineman and lua exchange a guilty glance.

lua has the courage to speak. "i mean…yeah, but—"

"shame on you two" jerry crosses his arms. "both of them deserve respect, not this gambling on their unborn child’s gender"

lineman suddenly has an idea. "so jerry...you must think it's a girl, right?"

jerry nods. "obviously. can't you see it? imagine her holding jake's pinkie with her tiny little hands"

lua smirks, catching lineman's drift as he discreetly slides a notepad to her. "so hypothetically...you'd place a bet on girl?"

he closes his eyes, lost in thought. "exactly. she’d teach him patience, unconditional love—"

lua nods, cutting him off as she jots notes down. "mhm. yeah. and how much are you putting down?"

jerry strokes his chin. "i'd say...30,000 won, easy-"

he blinks. "wait..."

jerry's jaw drops, the betrayal evident on his face. "you tricked me"

lineman grins, holding his hands up. "of course not. you just wanna see boss jake become a girl dad. that’s passion"

jerry opens his mouth to argue — then closes it. he shamefully places cash on the table.

"this stays between us" he whispers, glancing from side to side.

lua nods in satisfaction. "of course"

jason walks by, looking at the money on the table. "you guys are still on this? fine, put me down for a boy. 75,000 won"

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

jake blinks in disbelief when the truth gets exposed. "...you guys are betting? on my child?"

lineman, lua, and jason whistle, staring at the wall in fascination.

jake looks at jerry, expecting some shame.

jerry looks down, fiddling with his fingers. "...i was tricked"

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[valentine-cafe]

  ˖⁺. ﹙ the adrenaline addicted racer poet. ﹚: pasquale agresta moretti 781.𖹭

  . . . he's a sinner can you make him believe !? 🍒 : “ bastard? can just say you want my number, tesoro. ”

  ꒰ verse ꒱ 781

꒰ species ꒱ engima

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ italian

꒰ age ꒱ 26

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ enfp

꒰ alias ꒱ pasqualili ( family nickname ), ruby eyes, trigger happy, fire-eater, whore ( by his brother ), dick, bastard, moretti’s son, rapid ruby ( racer alias )

꒰ story ꒱

what contrasts the stillness of a poet? a wide open road speeding with cars backlit by red and blue lights. meet pasquale agresta moretti, intelligence agent by day and living on the line by night.

a poet, an illegal racer, a bite for danger. ever the blunt man with no lock for his tongue. brimming with charisma and charm that he is well aware of.

don’t let the lazy grins fool you, he is constantly in search for his next thrill. trigger happy’s his middle name; a fight's always welcome on his to-do-list.

quite the reckless nature for a man who keeps the city safe. his job might very well be the only thing he takes seriously. other than his powers. with a scarily exceptional control over his destructive capabilities, many underestimate him for a mere low level enigma. completely unaware of the sheer power he holds at his fingertips. he prefers fists anyway.

through it all, the essence of an older brother shines. a constant worry for siblings he raised and struggle to keep his family together. keep them healthy. the stress of the eldest child and numbness of dysfunctional parents can surely only be nulled by the thrill of his endless close calls and risk of his very life. after all, what's better than the remedy of blood rushing through his veins and pupils blown out in an adrenaline high?

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

pasquale has black wavy short leaning medium hair, that is swept to the right side of his head.

ruby eyes with bordered pupils.

circular glasses, with red tinted lenses and a silver frame

masculine features with sharper tones

tan skin

stands at the height of 6’6” ( 198 cm ) with an athletic build comprised of lean muscle.

has a set of fangs at his upper row of teeth.

dresses in blacks and burgundies, and incooperates punk fashion into most of his outfits. also wears a lot of turtlenecks and black leather loafers.

lobe piercings, typically silver or black dangling crosses ( not religious in the slightest ), has upper helix piercings.

has silver snake bite piercings and a venom tongue piercing.

has a nose piercing on the right nostril ( switches between stud and ring )

wears silver bracelets and silver rings and thin silver necklaces

 

꒰ personality ꒱

he seems quiet at first sight, but in actuality, pasquale is not one to hold his tongue and can be very extroverted in nature.

can be an extremely smug bastard when he wants to be, he is very confident in his skills and capabilities. very effortless in nature

an extremely blunt man whos honesty knows no bounds, he has been referred to as brutally honest many times

he is a thrill-seeker by nature, to him something being dangerous is what makes it fun. this leads to him being very daring

has a lot of charm and charisma, and he knows it. it pairs well with his flirtatiousness.

he can be a very teasing person sometimes depending on the situation he can even enjoy getting people angry, just for the sake of thrill and fun.

rebellious, finds himself having distaste towards authority, particularily if one is too pushy with it.

contrary to popular belief he is very perceptive

very protective, especially of those close to him.

trigger happy to a fault, always looking for some kind of fight.

also contrary to popular belief, he is extremely emotionally intelligent.

꒰ with a lover ꒱

he is a very caring and nurturing lover, always making sure that you are okay and taking your comfort into consideration, he might fuss over you sometimes.

passionate in both his words and his touch

quite protective, he worries about your wellbeing and safety but makes sure not to nag you. he’s just always checking up. always tells you to text him when you’re back home just to make sure.

he is a little shit, and he will tease you a lot, whether it is to make you flustered or to simply get a reaction out of you.

might not seem like it, but he is constantly on a lookout for their mannerisms, he is very observant when it comes to you.

he particularily enjoys late night drives with you, especially on long open roads.

will write poetry about you, but rarely shows you and if he does, he gets very flustered over it, though tries to cover some of it up by teasing you instead.

enjoys sitting and listening to music with them on quiet nights.

can be very touchy and almost clingy, needs to have his hands on you in some way, even if its just a pinkie.

always texts good morning and goodnight to you.

likes buying you food, especially when he finds something you like.

loves whenever you come to watch one of his races and always makes sure to kiss you after he’s won a race, regardless of how many people are around.

prefers your place over his. will crawl through your window at a random ass time.

whenever he’s looking at you, he cannot hide his heart eyes.

 

꒰ strengths꒱

kinetic energy manipulation: pasquale has the ability to turn kinetic energy into physical bursts of power and explosions, because of his exceptional control of his power he is also able to reverse the flow of objects in motion. however, pasquale rarely uses his powers and prefers his own physical strength and capabilities.

aim: he specialises in throwing knives and has excellent aim.

racing: when pasquale is in a car he is in his full element, he is an exceptional driver and even better racer.

combat: he has taught himself various forms of combat, whether that ranges from martial arts to street fighting tactics and prefers to use these over his powers.

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

Adrenaline addiction: it would seem that pasquale has an odd addiction to adrenaline, it is not something he can exactly stop.

daredevil tendencies: due to his lack of self reservation he can become quite reckless

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

vespasiano agresta caliari: father

illaria moretti accardi: mother

vinicio agresta moretti: younger twin brother

flora agresta moretti: younger sister

alessia agresta calirari: grandma

rainel: grandfather

valerio agresta caliari: uncle

albertino agresta caliari: uncle

pietro agresta caliari: uncle

mercutio agresta caliari: uncle

alessio arias: cousin

lorenzo agresta arias: cousin

azzurra agresta d'ambrosio: cousin

elenore agresta angelis: cousin

satyan chamara: complicated

moira anatra damiani: complicated

daria lascăr: good friend

 

꒰ extra ꒱

pasquale is an illegal racer

he speaks italian and english

he works for a specialised group that handle supernatural and natural emergencies whether that be combative or interlectual.

his poetry often reflects a lot of his situations in life, messy and full of street lights

once more, pasquale is quite literally addicted to adrenaline.

has a complicated relationship with his father

really likes dogs

smokes cigarettes

[madelynhimegami]

Arle Nadja Guide

I've heard a couple people say that they feel like they don't really get a good feel for who Arle is. Dunno if this will change their minds any, but I hope it helps.

Arle Nadja is freewheeling and easy come, easy go girl.

She loves adventure and exploring. Especially when that prominantly involves dungeon crawling.

Helps that she's been doing it from age 4.

Arle is, in fact, so hooked on dungeon crawling that Ringo and Amitie had to actively prevent her from entering what she already knew was a trap made to look like a dungeon entrance.

In addition to the adventuring, Arle likes travel as a means to meet new people with different ways of living.

She's well aware that most of her friends (especially from her own world) are insane. But she loves them regardless.

Arle isn't materialistic. As long as she has a way to get her basic needs met, her interest in wealth is, at most, transient.

Similarly, she's not particularly interested in becoming powerful.

I think she still likes learning new stuff about magic, including new spells, but the power of the magic in question is inconsequential to her.

Arle acts and speaks very casually, regardless of where she is or who she's talking to. She doesn't really care for formality and dislikes being expected to act a certain way.

Consequently, she has no reason to really ever acknowledge or respect authority without them earning it.

She made fun of brick jesus and his decisions to his face (at least before learning she was dealing with a small child).

I feel like Arle tends to be pretty good at reading vibes of others. As in, she can generally tell if someone is dangerous, stupid, struggling, being forced to act a certain way, sincere, or manipulative.

If so, she doesn't use that skill very often, because she's encountered too many people she will never understand she prefers to live and let live.

Arle is always willing to lend a hand to those in need of one. In fact, she's not very good at refusing to help, if asked.

Arle doesn't plan ahead very much. She just goes with the flow of things and assume that it'll all end up working out for the better.

She's not particularly inclined to strategic thinking (though she is perfectly capable of it). Her preferred method of handling obstacles is to face them head-on.

Satan doing something stupid? Beat him up. Door blocking the way? Tear it off its hinges.

That said, Arle is quite flexible, able to work with rapidly-changing circumstances, plus she's good at imrovising solutions.

She also probably has plenty of survivalist skills. You don't survive 12+ years of dungeon crawling without having a good sense of knowing what will or won't kill you, and how to protect yourself from the latter.

(I hate that I have to say this, but that does include bathing. Not washing dungeon gunk off is how you get fun and exciting new diseases.)

Her spells reflect those priorities, as well. Most of her combat-oriented spells aren't for dealing direct damage, but for self-defense.

Even then, she's has a blasé attitude towards danger, and doesn't get threatened easily in the slightest.

This is a girl that got into multiple fights with an owlbear and won before she started kindergarten.

She's not reckless, however. She's very aware that she's not invincible or unstoppable, and has reliable risk assessment.

Tight situations where she's in more trouble than she was prepared for is where a lot of her improvisation skills shine.

Arle's really forgiving. She doesn't hold grudges or resentment, even if someone has reduced her to her last frazzled nerve.

Case in point, she became friends with a man that abducted her and subsequently tried to kill her. Despite his protests.

Her gregariousness tends to grow on people, making her pretty good at making friends (albeit not as good as Amitie).

However, her forgiving nature only extends to herself. Threaten or annoy her all you want, she'll let it slide. But if a friend of hers has a problem with you, so does Arle.

Arle has a very dry sense of humor. She can snark with the best of them.

She mostly employs sarcasm to tease her friends (mostly the ones from her world), but she'll use it in full force if something annoys her enough.

(These often overlap, especially when Satan's involved)

She also can and will verbally destroy you for your nonsense if pushed far enough.

While known to get annoyed, frustrated, or agitated, Arle very rarely (if ever) gets truly angry. I firmly believe attacking a friend with intent to seriously harm is one way to do it, however.

She tends to have more patience with anybody younger than her. Doubly so if she has reason to believe they're relying on her.

Arle is very stubborn. She dies hard and never gives up.

It also makes her strong-willed enough to resist possession. She's actually on the record for forcibly expelling Ecolo from her body by attacking herself.

Both the above tie into Arle's greatest fear: helplessness. She is terrified of being trapped in a situation where there is absolutely nothing she can do to affect it, even superficially.

Much like Ringo, I think Arle is, in theory, a perfectly capable cook. But unlike Ringo, where Arle goes off the deep end is her obsession with curry. She'd pretty much always prefer making that.

Although not a powerhouse, Arle isn't your typical squishy mage. She's fit and resilient enough to get by a lot of her situations. And she can throw a good punch if needed.

We don't see it very often anymore (which is a shame imo), but Arle is a capable staff wielder, and will use one as a magic focus if it's available.

I think Arle used to be more self-centered and interested in magic for her own gain, but changed after a certain incident while she was at magic school.

Because of the incident, she's decided that there is no knowledge, possession, or power that is more important than the lives of other people, especially those you care about.

That being said, she actually doesn't remember the incident very clearly.

Of note, even before this personal epiphany, Arle was against fighting lethally and made it a point to only leave those she fights unconscious. She's even begged her friends to not kill someone even if it would help her.

The epiphany is another reason why she's less materialistic, however.

Arle is a believer in the idea that it's the journey, not the destination, that matters. Several of her adventures end in disappointment or anti-climax, but she gets over it quickly.

No matter how an adventure ends, there's bound to be another one over the horizon.

Because of the above, and her aforementioned penchance for flexibility and adaptability, Arle doesn't let setbacks bother her. If she can stand back up, she can always keep going. And she will.

Although Arle isn't at all shy, she doesn't like to be made the center of attention or put on a pedastal. She's just a girl doing her thing, y'know? To her, that's not something she needs to be lauded for.

She's also doesn't really show signs of physical or romantic attraction of any kind. She can recognize a person as being handsome or beautiful, but only does so as a neutral descriptor.

Arle is the only one that can truly understand Carbuncle. She's fully fluent in gu, as well.

Somehow that lets her understand other mascot-like critters, on the rare occasions she comes across them.

[amethystina]

Do you think Yo Han would like Ga On creating plans and organising schemes post canon or would his protective instincts kick in? Because we've seen the way he looked at Ga On before when it happened, but do think it would be the same later, especially if he was in Switzerland and not nearby in case for backup

I think he would be pretty torn between the two.

I mean, it's clear that Yo Han loves it when Ga On shows off how clever and resourceful he can be, so of course he'd want to encourage it as much as possible. He spent the entire drama trying to teach Ga On his manipulative, wicked ways and encourage him to be more loose with his morals. And even if Ga On always chooses a more legally acceptable route, Yo Han would still be delighted and so goddamn proud every time Ga On plans and executes a scheme.

I mean, just look at Yo Han's face during the entirety of Kim Choong Sik's first trial — i.e. the one where Ga On took the lead and planned their strategy. Yo Han looks like he's having the time of his goddamn life, smiling to himself like the proud Abyss that he is. And don't get me started on that part where Ga On asks if he may step down and talk to the defendant and Yo Han agrees, basically going: "Of course, bb, you go get him."

These two, I swear.

Point being, Yo Han clearly trusts Ga On to plot and scheme — he seemed to give him more or less free rein on more than one occasion — and he's always curious and excited to see what Ga On comes up with. But, just like you say, things might be different after the end of the drama.

Because during most of those instances, Yo Han was always there to rectify any mistakes or miscalculations Ga On made — like when they were trying to bribe Cha Kyung Hee's secretary. The only reason that worked was because Yo Han stepped in and took over since, unfortunately, Ga On's tactic wasn't working. And like Yo Han points out in that moment: Ga On might have the tools but doesn't always know how to use them.

In the baby deer's defence, he's still learning.

But that makes it pretty clear that while Yo Han trusts Ga On to a very high degree, he still likes to maintain a certain amount of control. He still wants to be there, just in case. And, I mean, that probably only got worse post-canon since one of the few times when Yo Han wasn't there to supervise, Ga On's plan was to blow himself up and Yo Han only managed to save him with literal seconds to spare.

So to say that Yo Han would be a bit nervous at the thought of Ga On scheming without him is an understatement.

Not that Yo Han necessarily thinks that Ga On will try to blow himself up again, but it's clear that Ga On doesn't always remember to consider the big picture. He sometimes misses details and doesn't always have backup plans, especially if he gets too emotional to think beyond his main objective. Ga On is reckless and impatient and, depending on who his opponents are, that could be deadly.

So Yo Han's protective instincts would definitely kick in, I think. Not to the point where he'd try to stop Ga On — because, again, he loves to watch his vicious little darling eviscerate people — but he'd want to be there, just in case.

Which, yes, is another reason why Yo Han decided to return to Korea in Who Holds the Devil that he has elected not to mention to Ga On. He wants to be there and protect Ga On from outside threats, sure, but he also wants to make sure that Ga On doesn't get any wild ideas and puts himself in danger. Which is why Yo Han is so eager to hear about all the cases Ga On is working on. Yo Han knows they're all very low-stakes at the moment, but it's good to be cautious. He wants to make sure that Ga On doesn't take any unnecessary risks.

Not because Yo Han doesn't trust Ga On — he does — he just wants to keep an eye on Ga On's blind spots to prevent anyone from exploiting them. To keep supervising him, if you will. And I think it would make him very nervous if he was in Switzerland, yes, since he'd be too far away to physically intervene or provide support.

He just doesn't want to lose any more people he cares about — and especially not Ga On.

But, again, he also wouldn't stop him. So I guess Yo Han just has to live with the fact that he can never let Ga On out of his sight ever again?

Oh how unfortunate ;D

[flame-cat]

i love ford getting mad @ stan & accidentally triggering a flashback/bad memory recollection & that startling him enough for him to stop being angry

major wake up call. i love that man getting humbled

hmmmm yes i love it i'll take 20

bonus thing that happens Later

[hsslilly-blog]

just realised that as far as i recall it hwu mc doesn’t cry at any point in hunts date quests and i think this is the biggest evidence of them being weird. not that people who don’t cry are weird but hwu mc specifically is very weird for not crying

[capricornlevi]

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

//

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a reader who makes it very obvious they’re crushing on the batboys? For not serious situations, they’re sweeter and just more in a good mood whenever the boys are around? Blushes a lot around them and the boys don’t have to be talking directly to them? (Crush can talk to the bat boys normally if the situations serious). (Crush has normal conversations with others people. But goes around telling other super hero friends or just normal friends whenever the bat boys is brought up by other people, they think the bat boys are cute. And always hyping them up to their friends/and the batboy friends even when the batboys are there).

Dick:

He’s flattered really. Yes, unfortunately for everyone, he’s quite aware that he’s attractive but it’s not something he often pays attention to. With trying to protect the world and fighting crime 24/7, being attractive is the last of his priority. But when you gush about him- his abilities, ideals, skills, him as a person - he preens. Sure, he’ll get flustered when you go off on how great he is (and how cute which really takes him off guard) despite the fact he’s right there. And of course he covers himself with the good old classic of clearing his throat even though the corner of his lips won’t stop twitching and the blush on his face gets worse by the second. It’s adorable really. You’re so obvious from how you fan over him whenever he’s brought up in conversations and completely burning when it’s just the two of you and all he’s doing is standing next to you. He sometimes struggles to keep his intrusive thoughts to himself, to tease and see if you can possibly flush even more if he were to poke or “accidentally” brush against you. Though, he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose and trying to trip him up when you become completely normal when he’s talking about a mission only to go back on talking about how cute and amazing he is to the person next to you (extra kudos to you when you somehow successfully get the other become a fellow Nightwing stan). Still cute though.

Jason:

People often think he’s dense in the romantic field. From being dead to being back alive and being all rough and reckless, all the typical stuff. It’s truly unfortunate (not really) that that’s not the case and he knows you have a crush on him. Like seriously? It’s so obvious, he’s concerned if there are people who can’t tell that you have a crush on him. The problem is that he doesn’t know what warranted it. He knows he’s quite a shot. Perhaps not as much as Dick given his personality and dark humor, but he has charmed plenty of women with his looks. However, being a former crime lord to now a vigilante outlaw isn’t really all that  glorious or something that gets others to swoon over… So yeah, he doesn’t know why you would get all hyped up over him whenever he’s brought up in conversations. Whether he’s there or not, you would rave over him which gets him to do a double take and play with his helmet or muzzle, whichever one he chooses to wear, because suddenly he’s feeling a bit too hot and needs some air to cool his face. All he does is stand next to you and when it’s you and him alone, he sometimes worries how red you get. He won’t lie, seeing you smile more because he’s there makes his heart itch and grin a bit. Plus, he doesn’t mind as much as others would think since you know when to get back to normal and become serious when things are serious.

Tim:

Someone save him. Someone please save him. You have an obvious crush on him and he has no idea what to do. In fact, he didn’t think anyone would possibly develop a crush on him as big as yours. He’s Red Robin and the former third Robin not many people really take note of. Well other than he’s Batman’s former sidekick and also fights crimes like the rest of the Bat family. You, on the other hand, are making it your life mission to tell everyone how incredible he is. Doesn’t matter where, when, and if he’s right there or not. The minute he’s brought up, boom. You’re off describing him in every way possible. Amazing, intellectual. Also what do you mean he’s cute? Since when was he considered cute? A part of him is on to you, wanting to believe this is all a set-up. A prank set up by his friends or family. The other part, he can’t keep a calm facade around you, covering his face with one or both hands to hide the blush that goes down his face to the base of his neck. There’s also lots of fake coughing and clearing his throat involved. Lots, to cover the happy tingles he gets, registering there’s someone who acknowledges his efforts and  talents. It gets worse and he gets even more conscious when you’re matching his expression when the two of you are alone. He’s grateful that at least you’re back to normal when things are going down at least. 

Duke:

Okay. Wow. You have a crush on him and it’s painfully obvious. There’s a first time for everything and this? This is definitely a first. Forget about Tim and his whole deal with Red Robin, some of the villains in Gotham don't even know his name. That should be telling how low in the pyramid he is. Not that it matters to you apparently. He’s with you and his group of friends and he can hear all the things you say about him given he’s right there. And it doesn’t stop you from fawning over his powers, his fighting and detective abilities, and- uhm ok. Good to know you’re into his looks. He lost track how many times this happened. He does remember by the end, he’s rubbing his face and resigning to sigh through his nose in lieu of groaning out loud. You describe him as if he’s the world’s finest. He can feel the heat radiating off his whole head and body so he has a pretty good idea how he looks. It’s better when he’s alone with you. Your face is burning and he does everything to make the vibe less awkward. It doesn’t work and he makes it more awkward as his mind and your face now resembling a tomato reminds him you have a crush on him. He does wonder how in the world you’re able to snap back to normal so quickly when he’s going through heavy material with you. All fan-vibe gone, you’re listening and giving input which are often good points and covers any areas that were missed. 

Damian:

He doesn’t understand your behavior. One moment you’re fine, societal “normal” according to what those around him taught him. You’re casually chatting, making jokes, and expressing emotions like anyone else. On another, you’d suddenly be jumping around and praising him all over the place the second someone drops his name. Disregarding how he stands literally behind you and his cheeks completely pink, gradually turning to red, he thinks of you being just as embarrassing when Dick or someone else in the family brags about him. His skills with the katana, compassion for animals- he can somewhat tolerate that. He completely disagrees over him being hot-cold. He is not hot-cold. His personality also does not resemble a cat. Also how is he cute? He’s far from the word cute, period. Then there’s when you’re alone with him. Face completely rosy and dusted in pink. Every single time without fail, it’s only you and him. All he’s doing is standing next to you and instead of being either normal or chaotic, you’re suddenly blushing. He had entertained the idea of you having interest in him. Until he brings up a new case to you. It’s concerning how you go back to being normal and, surprisingly, making plausible conclusions that help him find a new lead. So despite what everyone around tells him that you have a crush on him, he’s having a hard time seeing it. You are sweeter when he’s around but he feels as though having a crush doesn’t associate with split personalities.

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a terrible day at work, you find an unexpected dose of comfort in an absurd late-night conversation with your coworker.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, you make a huge mistake at work (unspecified) for which you get seriously chewed out by hotch, too many beds trope, ridiculously long considering the entire plot revolves around a single conversation, gets kinda wild at the end, spencer hits his head, but it’s nothing serious

𝐚/𝐧: the ending inspired by a situation from my life, but don’t worry, my head is fine now (in the general sense of the word) (no one kissed my forehead...) i recommend reading it in bed before sleep <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7 k

"Hotch, but I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," your boss replied in his typical, emotionless tone, which in this particular situation sent a distinct chill down your spine. Every word he uttered felt like a frozen dagger, driven straight between your ribs and left there, while the coldness spread across your skin in the form of goosebumps. "What you did was not only reckless but also undermined all of today’s hard work by the entire team. They put tremendous effort into locating the unsub and cornering him at that specific location, and because of your decision, he managed to escape. Every additional day this man remains free could cost someone their life—an innocent person."

You stood before him in an empty parking lot across from the hotel where your entire team was staying. It wasn’t exactly the typical setting for delivering a reprimand, but since you were far from the office, there wasn’t a better option at hand. And while you were teetering on the edge of tears—tears you were desperately holding back to avoid appearing like a weak little girl in his eyes—you were grateful for one thing. Grateful that he had chosen to chastise you in private. One-on-one. Away from everyone else.

A moment of silence fell between you, and you tried not to lower your head like a chastised child—but that’s exactly how you felt. Not just ashamed, but overwhelmingly guilty. As someone who had only recently joined the BAU, you’d never made such an egregious mistake before. A mistake that could cost someone their life. Deep down, you had clung to the naive hope that this moment would never come. That if you followed the instructions of those more experienced than you with feigned confidence, something like this could be avoided.

But reality had placed you in a completely different position—one where, for a brief moment, the weight of everything rested squarely on your shoulders. You failed, and the unsub escaped.

The wind around you blew with a certain bitterness, tugging at your hair. It drowned out the sound of your heavy breathing, your racing heartbeat, and the loud gulp as you swallowed. Hotch, saying nothing, studied you with a measured gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted allowing you into this job.

“I wanted you to be aware of that,” he said, his tone less harsh now but tinged with a certain disappointment that only deepened the guilt gnawing at you. He nodded, signaling you were free to go. “That’s all I had to say.”

He walked away, and watching his figure dissolve into the darkness in such a dramatic manner, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The laugh immediately turned into the beginning of a sob, which you quickly stifled, waving your hand in front of your face. You stood there for a moment, your feet seemingly rooted to the parking lot, as though the concrete were still fresh, hardening around your shoes.

In your experience, failure almost always came hand in hand with a sense of vulnerability, transporting you into a completely different, weaker body, one without any shields. All the achievements of the past few years, including making it into the BAU at such a young age, seemed to melt away, and once again, you were nothing.

You knew you couldn’t stand there all night, but in a way, it felt safer. In the motel, you might run into someone from the team. You might accidentally meet their gaze, and you’d see the disappointment in their eyes. After all those weeks of trying to prove your worth to them, of showing that you even belonged in this job, the last thing you wanted was to face that look.

To muster some courage, you took a deep, slow breath. You needed to slip into your room unnoticed, lie down in bed, hoping that the night would at least slightly cleanse you of your guilt. Hotch was absolutely right. Not only had you wasted an entire day of hard work, but you’d also put civilians from that area in danger. What if tomorrow another person became a victim?

The thought tormented you so much that by the time you reached your door, you were massaging your temples. You inserted the key you had picked up from the front desk into the lock, turned it, and was about to pull the handle… but it was locked. Frustrated, you figured the universe had simply decided to unite all of its forces against you as some kind of punishment. Before you could resort to a tired kick at the door and curl up in a ball in the hallway, you tried again. This time, the door opened without issue.

So absorbed in yourself, your situation, and your grievances, you didn’t even notice that inside, not only was the light on, but there were someone’s belongings—and, most importantly, someone else. It wasn’t until you took off your coat and stepped further into the room (if you could even call it that, it was an exceptionally small space) and came face to face with Spencer Reid that you realized you weren’t alone.

You stopped mid-step, stunned as if the least expected thing at that moment had just appeared before you—a turtle on stilts wearing a cowboy hat, or some other kind of religious prophet.

Quick note—this wasn't the first time you and Reid had shared a room during cases. Specifically, the bed. It all started when you found out he struggled with a fear of the dark, and someone’s presence really helped him feel better. In fact, at first, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, but you couldn't just watch him suffer on that uncomfortable surface every night. And, you had to admit, sometimes after an especially harrowing day in your, let’s be honest, stressful job, it felt nice to fall asleep next to someone.

As usual, it was him who came to you. Late at night, to your room, when he felt like sleeping would be particularly difficult. He was never there from the start…

"It turns out all the rooms here are double," he blurted out hastily upon seeing you, his tone overly explanatory.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of pulling something out of his suitcase. He straightened up, and you noticed he was wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, and in his hand, he held that familiar white sweater you often teased him about, the one with an embroidered bear wearing glasses.

"I mean, the rest of the team got roomed together too, so we’re not some weird exception. I hope this doesn’t bother you. If it does, well, maybe we can switch somehow… I know Elle and JJ are together, and I think they only have two beds in their room, but maybe... or I could go with Derek…”

"Oh, come on," you waved dismissively, your tone sounding a bit irritated, like you were shooing away an annoying fly. The truth was, you were exhausted from the day and didn’t want to worry about the accommodation on top of everything else.

Reid stopped mid-sentence, his lips slightly parted. You felt guilty again as you had no reason to speak to him like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your frustration.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, your tense posture easing a little as you realized you were no longer outside, under the sharp, yet truthful words of your boss. "Really... I'm sorry, Reid. It doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit," you reassured him, sincerely.

He studied you in silence for a moment, his face showing a concerned, analytical expression.

"Actually, we’ve shared a room before," you added almost immediately, forcing a little chuckle. "And not just once. Well, at least now we have two beds…"

"Did you... did you talk to Hotch?"

The question was asked with hesitation, on a breath. Well, it finally meant confronting everything that had happened that day. You looked him straight in the eyes, searching for judgment or any hint of dislike toward you. But there was none. Instead, you found concern and discomfort at the fact that he had even brought up the subject.

"It’s... it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly corrected himself, giving a slight nod. "You... you have every right, I don’t expect you to explain anything to me, your conversation with the boss is your private matter... oh God, I feel like with every word I say, my statement is losing more and more sense, and I’m getting more and more tangled in it, isn’t that right?"

He stared at you with furrowed brows, waiting for your reaction. It turned out to be... a burst of laughter. You honestly couldn’t help yourself.

“I hate to admit it, but yeah, you’re right. You completely lost your train of thought. Maybe we should just pretend I’ve only just walked through that door, huh?”

“That’s... that’s actually a very good suggestion. So... so, uh, hi?”

Your lips curved into a smile, this time genuine.

“Hi, Reid.”

He managed to improve your mood in less than five minutes after you’d received a serious reprimand. You were immensely glad to have ended up with him in the room lottery. Shaking your head in disbelief, you began getting ready for bed without a word. He didn’t say anything either, sensing you needed a bit of space after everything that had happened. Speaking of space...

“This room is alarmingly small, don’t you think?” you said, returning from the shower and slowly sliding under your blanket. Fifteen minutes under scalding hot water had helped your body relax, and you no longer felt like you might throw up on your own feet at any moment. “It’s like some sort of exclusive cupboard under the stairs. Still a cupboard, though. Look, I can practically touch you.”

You stretched out your arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, even though you were sitting on neighboring beds, your fingertips almost brushed the fabric of his shirt. Between you was a massive nightstand made of dark wood, the same as the windowsill and the floor. On it sat a slightly old-fashioned bedside lamp with a glass base and a slightly yellowed lampshade. Other than that, there wasn’t much furniture. Not that there would’ve been room for any.

“Do you hear that?” Reid asked enigmatically, sitting up straighter on his bed.

You looked at him, intrigued.

“Listen closely…is that…paper rustling? Morgan drafting his resignation?”

You chuckled. Your coworker had a particular sensitivity to the motels you stayed in and their condition. He firmly believed that since you risked your lives almost daily during dangerous cases and investigations, you deserved accommodations that were at least decent. And that wasn’t always what you got.

“Don’t worry, as long as the shower has hot water, we don’t have to fear him leaving,” you said. “Though now that I think about it, I can’t blame Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Potter. If I lived in such a claustrophobic little room, I’d convince myself I was a wizard too. Can I turn off the lamp?"

You politely asked, as usual, leaving plenty of room for potential conversation. Aware of his fear, you always ensured he felt comfortable with the encroaching darkness. Reid looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"Maybe... maybe it could stay on for a bit longer? If that's..."

"That’s okay," you finished for him, knowing what he intended to say.

A fleeting, grateful expression crossed his face. Seeing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You were glad he no longer felt as ashamed of his unease with the dark. Besides, you preferred the light to stay on too. You were afraid of what the darkness might conceal—the worries and anxieties it could bring… already was bringing.

Mainly, it was the looping words of your boss, the thought of how you'd messed up, and the rest of the team. Well, there was one thing that eased your mind in that regard: knowing that Reid was lying in the bed next to yours and recalling the look on his face when he saw you. He wasn’t angry that you’d let the unsub get away. Maybe the others weren’t as furious with you as you’d imagined.

Or maybe it was the opposite?

Maybe he, as the second-youngest member of the team after you, was the only one showing you any understanding. And the others, perhaps, harbored nothing but disdain, their resentment growing stronger at the mere thought of you…

"You're shivering."

Reid's observation reached your ears as you lay on your side, facing away from him. His voice was gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet that had previously enveloped the room, not cutting through the sound of your sleepy breaths but accompanying it. Not knowing how to respond, you gave a small shrug. He probably saw it—you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn't intrusive, just a worried glance from the corner of his eye.

"I could turn up the temperature if you're cold. Do you want me to?"

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold, but admitting that felt like too much. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to steady your restless body.

"Yeah, if you don’t mind," you murmured in response.

It was easier to blame it on the chill. Still, hearing him get up and move toward the thermostat, you felt a pang of guilt for pulling him out of bed. He should already be asleep. There was so much work waiting for you both tomorrow. Another day of the investigation—a case that could have been solved already if not for you…

"I'm afraid…it doesn’t seem to work," Reid said thoughtfully. He fiddled with it for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and returning to his bed, though he didn’t lie down right away. He paused in the narrow space between your beds, and you felt his gaze again, wondering what it meant this time.

"Maybe… I don’t know, would you want my sweater? You know which one. It's…too warm for me, but since you're freezing…”

Reid’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost shy kindness that made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to turn around to picture the small, uncertain smile that likely accompanied his offer. Of course, you knew exactly which one he meant. He had received it as a Christmas gift from Penelope, and it was quite light and breathable. But what truly made it a staple in his pajamas was the adorable bear wearing glasses that appeared on the front. Sometimes, when you slept in the same bed, you could feel the softness of its fabric.

You had just turned toward him, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t actually cold—you had been lying about that all along—but still... the offer lingered in your mind. His kindness, followed by the concern. You felt that taking his specific sweater, which was not only comfortable but also... well, his, could effectively calm your trembling limbs and ease your anxiety.

"Would you like to give it to me?" you asked, making sure. "You don't have to."

He shrugged slightly and immediately bent down to grab the suitcase tucked under the bed. The sweater in question was right on top, so he could reach for it at any moment when he felt the need for an extra layer.

"I know I don't have to," he replied, pausing for a moment with the sweater in hand. "But, you know, I want to. It's just a sweater."

"Won't Penelope be mad if you're giving it away like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She’d be furious…" he started, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the edge of your bed, his forehead lightly furrowed. After a serious moment of hesitation, he sat on the bed, as gently as if he feared it would burn him. He stretched the sweater out towards you. "…if I gave it to anyone else. But in this case, she'd probably scold me if I didn’t give it to you."

You took it from him. Though it wasn’t one of those thick, bulky sweaters, it felt surprisingly heavy in your hands.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you replied after a moment of hesitation, letting out a sigh. "After today."

Reid looked at your face in silence. Suddenly, you started regretting not turning off the lamp after all. His gaze seemed piercing, too piercing. It surely noted every shadow of doubt and shame cast by the subtle changes in your expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

For a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You sighed, shifting slightly to the side, making room beside you.

“Come on. It’s easier for me to talk when I don’t have someone directly in front of me.”

Surprised, he stared at the small space next to you, shaking his head slightly.

“But… this bed is kind of ridiculously small, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that wide, Reid. If that’s what you’re suggesting…”

“That’s absolutely not what I meant, and I definitely wasn’t suggesting anything,” he quickly explained. “Well, maybe apart from the fact that every tiny movement will risk us both falling off…” He looked at you with an unchanged expression, patiently pointing to the spot next to you and sighed in defeat. “Okay, I feel like I’m not winning this one…”

Well, he had a point. After a while of shifting around, trying to find a position where you wouldn’t keep elbowing each other in the ribs, and after countless accidental jabs and whispered apologies, it ended with him half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the headboard of the narrow bed, while you lay flat on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His figure cast a gentle shadow over you, making the room feel darker than it really was. It had a calming effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of someone so close by. Or perhaps it was the touch of the soft sweater, the fabric resting between your fingers, in the way one holds a rosary. Maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

"I screwed up today," you said. Though your voice was soft, there was no trace of gentleness in your tone. From the way you were lying, you could see his face, and you noticed his lips part slightly, as if to deny it. "And don't try to convince me otherwise, Reid. I knew that even before Hotch said it to my face."

You heard him sigh softly.

"I guess it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"Oh, Reid, it was like a horror movie. But I don't blame him for anything he said. I deserved to hear it all from someone else's mouth, not just from my own head." Restlessly, you began to fiddle with the sweater like a stress toy. He watched the movement of your hands, alternating between that and the slight trembling of your chin. "At least the talk with him is over. Now I'm scared... scared of what’s with the rest of the team."

You voiced your biggest worry out loud, and there was a silence as he pondered it.

“I think… I think we’ve talked about this before,” he replied finally, clearing his throat. “About how you’re afraid of what others will think of you. And I don’t want to repeat myself, but... you need to look at it a bit differently. We all started somewhere, we were all rookies. If we got mad at each other every time someone messed up, well, there wouldn’t be a team. Of course, we keep in mind all the mistakes we've made in the past..."

“You're good at comforting...” you muttered bitterly.

"...But we don’t dwell on them unnecessarily," he finished. "We're only human, you know. It’s estimated that each person makes about five to seven mistakes a day. If we assume you live to be about eighty... though of course, I wish you much more than that, that would be between 150,000 and 200,000."

You snorted, listening to those statistics.

“I feel like I’ve already used up half of my lifetime quota today,” you confessed, while also reflecting on the first part of his statement. About the team, who, according to him, wasn’t going to hold a grudge against you…

Reid paused for a moment, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said after a while. “Just make sure you’re really careful when you’re old. You won’t forget when your grandkids have birthdays.”

“Damn, I think that’s the problem. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll probably mix up their names. Or call them all by the same one. The prettiest one, of course. The least common one.”

“Just make sure you get a good calendar,” he suggested. “One that’ll remember everything for you. Dates, names.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist,” he agreed.

You spent a long moment without bringing up any new topics, but laughing quietly about the course of the conversation. If you looked at it that way, this was probably the only time in your life you talked to someone about being an old lady with a questionable memory and joint problems with amusement rather than sheer terror. Although the bed was seriously small, you felt more comfortable than ever before. You were sinking deeper into the mattress, into his side, into relaxation. You wondered if and when, or even if, he planned to go back to his own bed. There was really no reason for him to stay...but was there any reason for him to leave?

“And you?” you spoke again after a long moment. You felt like the only way to keep him around was by saying something. Not that you were desperate to have him stay… “Have you ever messed up on a case? Like, seriously messed up?”

"I could lie and say I haven't," he noticed.

He shifted slightly, likely due to exhaustion, as his back had been slowly sliding down the headboard for a while, until it finally sank into the mattress. His head rested on the pillow right next to yours, closer than ever before. Well, you could only blame the narrow bed for that. Because of the tight space, you had to lie on your side, which meant your breath brushed against his cheek.

"You could. But then I'd ask Elle for the truth, and you'd only end up compromising yourself."

"That's true. That's why I'm telling you. Just promise you won't laugh."

"This sounds serious. Come on, what did you do?" you asked, genuinely curious, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, or let me guess."

He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. However, when you suggested it, he slowly and hesitantly turned onto his side as well, so that you were face to face. He probably wanted to see your reaction, the laughter you'd burst into once he told you, whatever it was.

"You have three guesses," he announced. He tried to gesture to you encouragingly with his head, but then, for a split second, his chin brushed against yours. Slightly flustered, he quickly froze again.

For a moment, something changed in your breath. You bit your lip, thinking. His gaze briefly dropped to it.

"Okay, so that’s the first one," you said, taking in more air than you probably needed. You didn’t really understand what was happening, but it seemed like you were running out of oxygen faster than you should have been. "Did you confuse your weapon with a taser?"

"Really, that was the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about a mistake I might have made?" he scoffed. His breath warmed your face in a pleasant way.

"Oh, sorry, but it’s really hard for me to come up with anything when it comes to a genius with eidetic memory," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don’t know, did you lose some evidence? Something really important?" you suggested, trying to read confirmation from his brown, unusually gentle eyes at that moment. He gently shook his head.

"Now, I honestly don’t know. Okay, this might sound like some soap opera plot, but here goes. Were you supposed to keep an eye on a potential victim and ended up having a passionate affair with them?"

You lowered your voice to a flirtatious whisper as you said the last words.

For a moment, he held your gaze. He met it like an opponent, sending an exciting shiver down your spine. And it wasn’t because of the cold. But then, he submissively lowered his eyes. You let out such a strong burst of laughter that you started to worry if you had accidentally spat on him.

"Spencer Reid, you’re joking with me, right?"

He turned back onto his back again, avoiding looking at your wide-open mouth and amused eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbow, gently nudging his shoulder.

"What kind of... seductress beast are you? Because I don't know how else to call it," you muttered, still shaking your head from side to side. "Wow, I didn’t know this side of you."

"There’s no side like that," he replied defensively, closing his eyes with some embarrassment. "It was... she was an actress who had a stalker..."

"An actress?"

"...and it just happened that way! But it was definitely a mistake. And it wasn’t any... passionate affair, as you called it. I put her in unnecessary danger when we kissed in the pool..."

"In the pool?"

"Oh, why do I even keep talking?" he groaned, pressing one hand to his tightly closed eyes. He suddenly snorted. "Sure, laugh even louder. Gideon and Derek in the next room won't mind if you wake them up."

"Oh, don't change the subject now. You seduced an actress. Was she famous?"

"I didn’t seduce her..."

"So, she seduced you?"

Reid sighed, resigned.

"Well, I’d put it that way," he admitted finally, quietly, with a certain childish indignation, as if he had simply decided to surrender to the onslaught of your questions. He didn’t reveal much, but after a moment, you learned a few important details about the case, and with some... relief, you realized you didn’t recognize the actress’s name. But why relief?

Suddenly, however, the hysterical amusement faded, leaving you with a genuine dilemma. Reid was still lying on his back, avoiding your mocking gaze and comments. Before you could stop yourself, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention. He nodded questioningly.

"I know this might be a very strange and, above all, an extremely personal question, but what does it take to seduce you?" you asked.

Reid froze, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just realized that I’ve probably never seen you actively filter anyone. Consciously, that is. Because sometimes it happens, and you don’t even notice it," he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly covered it with your hand. Confused, he looked down at it. "Don’t even try to deny it, everyone would confirm it. But I’m trying to imagine the kind of person you would lose your head for, and I’ve got a few conflicting ideas. So, I’ll repeat the question. What does it take to seduce you? Asking for a friend, of course."

Reid flinched as if alarmed.

"What friend?"

"My God, it’s just a figure of speech."

He sighed, and the way he shook his head showed a certain disbelief.

"You’re surprisingly hyperactive, considering the time. Maybe we should go to bed?"

"No, I asked you a question," you protested. "Does she have to be pretty? Smart? Probably both, right?"

He looked at you with the same expression—simultaneously embarrassed, disbelieving, shocked, amused, offended, and above all, thoroughly confused.

"I feel like this question is going to keep you up tonight. So, for the sake of your own sleep, I’ll answer briefly. And I don’t care if my answer satisfies you or not." Reid paused, and you waved your hand, urging him to continue. He sighed. "She just... has to seem... interesting."

"Was there any more evasive answer?" you snorted, disappointed.

"Did you expect an entire essay?"

 "Well, honestly, yes. Last time you talked to me for over thirty minutes about bioluminescence and what causes it. You were able to go on and on about that, but not this time?"

You knew by now you were just teasing him, playing with his nerves as if it were an instrument you'd been mastering since early childhood, attending lessons three times a week and slowly climbing the ranks of your musical career. 

Your conversations often felt like a game of ping-pong, with each of you exchanging comments, remarks, observations, and verbal jabs at a pace that was downright wild. Time completely vanished for you then, feeling as though you could carry on such a dialogue forever.

 "Goodnight," he finally said, without much firmness in his voice. Well, that was probably more out of practicality than a strong desire to end the chat. It was indeed late. "I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. Or you into me."

 "So, you're already tired of talking to me?" you asked, feigning hurt. You even tilted your head dramatically.

For a moment, he hesitated to reply, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face, a barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips.

 "Quite the opposite," he finally responded. You raised your eyebrows, not allowing yourself to feel satisfied with his words in case they turned out to be pure sarcasm. "So…goodnight."

As a result of some sort of scuffle, you found yourselves in a rather chaotic position. Well, you were definitely taking up most of the bed, comfortably sprawled in the center. He lay more on the edge, somewhere between lying on his back and on his side. Looking at him and his slightly flushed cheeks, which were quite an endearing sight, you suddenly realized the meaning of his earlier words. I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. So he did intend to sleep with you on this narrow bed, when there was a perfectly empty one, entirely at his disposal, just beside you? An unexpected choice, but… you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were kind of okay with it. With a slightly enigmatic expression, you leaned closer to him, intending to say something softly.

 Reid perked up, as although he had officially ended the conversation, he was still curious about what you were about to say.

 "Goodnight," you said slowly, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. You should have moved away, giving him space to settle more comfortably, but you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't add, “Seductive beast."

“God, nothing in life will ever make me regret more than telling you about this,” he sighed, genuinely concerned about that prospect.

You let out a snort and were about to mumble something else when he, with resignation, turned fully onto his back. Well... at least he tried. He was so close to the edge of the mattress that it simply ended beneath him.

You shot up into a sitting position, startled by the sudden noise and the chaos that filled the room.

“Spencer,” you managed to gasp, jumping off the bed to check on him.

It wasn't an easy task; everything was submerged in darkness. If falling off the bed itself didn't sound like one of the most humiliating accidents a person could have, adding to it the fact that he had hit his head on the wide dresser next to the bed made it worse. And, as a result, the nightlight had been knocked over and shattered...

Fumbling, you reached for the light switch, and when the room was lit again, you moved to him. Kneeling beside Reid, who was slowly propping himself up, you gently held his shoulders.

"Careful, Jesus, you hit your head so hard..."

He squinted and furrowed most of his face, letting out a sharp breath.

 "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, carefully inspecting his head and looking for any serious injuries, maybe some blood... but you saw nothing

Spencer looked at you with a sort of seriousness, as if the pain had suddenly faded.

"What else is it supposed to do, tickle?"

For a moment, the room fell quieter, but it was impossible to ignore the mutual sense of relief that things hadn’t turned out worse. His words threw you off a bit; at first, you didn’t fully grasp their meaning. Instead, you focused entirely on analyzing his face, his body language, his behavior. You were afraid he might have a concussion.

"I have absolutely no medical training, but..." you paused, casting another worried glance his way. Reid was slowly starting to shake off the shock and disorientation. "But judging by how quickly your sarcasm came back, I’d say you’re going to be fine."

He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a groan.

"Doctor of the year, right here…"

Just then, a loud knock echoed on the door. The door to your room

 “Is someone murdering you guys in there or what?” Morgan’s concerned voice called out.

You exchanged glances—both equally confused and, in a way, slightly terrified. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.

“Well, since I’m the reason this whole situation happened, I guess it’s on me to explain to him how it even got to this point,” you sighed. When he didn’t react, you raised your eyebrows. “No objections? No heroic offers to take this off my hands?”

“Not a chance,” he replied curtly, shaking his head before wincing briefly as another wave of pain clearly shot through it.

You told him, worried, to stay down for a little while longer for his own good.

 “And as my mom used to say,” you added, slowly starting to stand, glancing briefly toward the door. Morgan knocked again—or rather, pounded on it hard enough to nearly take it off its hinges.

Taking your time, you rested both hands on Reid’s shoulders in an almost protective gesture. Completely ignoring the surprised look on his face, you brushed your lips against his forehead.

 “A kiss will make it better.”

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[wonderjanga]

Throwing Caution to the Wind

Marvel can be reckless. It’s something literally everyone is aware of. Some have even fallen victim to it.

Red Robin: *sleeping on a couch with an apple on his head*

Robin!Damian: *throwing knives but sometimes purposefully missing and nearly hitting Tim*

Marvel: *also throwing knives but actually trying to hit the apple but is accidentally nearly hitting Tim*

Robin!Damian: *hits the apple*

Marvel: “Oh that was a good shot, Robin!”

Red Robin: *slowly wakes up as he feels the apple fall off his head and roll onto the couch*

Robin!Damian: *smug but trying to hide it* “Of course it was good.”

Red Robin: *still in the process of waking up when he notices the puncture marks in the couch and looks over to Marvel and Damian*

Marvel: *twirling a knife in his hand as he continues to compliment Damien*

Red Robin: *is immediately woken up and sits up immediately, finally noticing the apple near him* “Wha… what the HELL?”

Robin!Damian: “You’re awake.”

Red Robin: “Yeah I’m awake! Cap, did you PUT AN APPLE ON ME and try to HIT IT WITH THROWING KNIVES?!”

Marvel: “Uh… yes.” *stops twirling the knife* “Robin was too. He’s actually the one that hit it off.”

Red Robin: “Wha- what is wrong with you?!”

This has also been mentioned multiple times throughout multiple posts but he just flings kids into danger. Literally.

The JL, Marvel, and Eugene: *staring at the giant ship being piloted by a super villain*

Marvel: *immediately turns to Eugene and bends down* “Buddy, do you want me to fling you at the giant a massive alien monster?”

Other JL: “What?” *concerned*

Eugene: “Sure!”

Supes: “Wait, Marvel-”

Marvel: *grabs Eugene*

Supes: *more concerned* “Marvel?”

Marvel: *hurls Eugene at the ships*

Supes: “MARVEL!” *sounds and looks horrified as he watches Eugene crash through the haul of the ship*

Clark was just about to chew Cap out because oh my Rao that’s child endangerment times eleven. But then, the ship just exploded and the kid came crashing out and was caught by Marvel.

Marvel: *puts Eugene down and brushes off a bunch of soot* “Good job, bud. Just try for something less messy next time.”

There’s also the fact that Marvel literally threw caution to the wind. Zatanna was there. She saw with her own two eyes.

Magical Beings: *arguing about some issue*

Marvel: *sighs and starts making his way to the center*

Embodiment of Caution: *shoved by something into Billy*

Marvel: *barely blinks and picks up the Embodiment of Caution and tosses them to a wind spirit*

Embodiment of Caution: *falls to the ground because the wind spirit is made of literal wind*

Magical Beings: *all shut up because they fell so loud*

[goldfades]

family ties | chapter one, DAYLIGHT | burrow⁹

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | the youngest kelce has spent her whole life navigating the chaos of her famous last name, always lingering in the background while her brothers took center stage. but when travis falls for taylor swift, she suddenly finds herself feeling like a third wheel in her own family. and after your heartbreak with an nba player, you never thought you'd find love again.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | just normal prologue stuff! kelce family bantering, mentions of jayson tatum, olivia h mention (IT WAS FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR), heartbreak (but no graphic descriptions), nothing else!

⟢ ┈ ev's notes: okay listen guys i had to think of a random basketball player and the first one i thought of was jayson tatum. if ur not attracted to him, just like... imagine someone else but the celtics are not mentioned so... it's fine!!!!! it's a minor little detail but yeah!

also, i might change some stuff that was from the OG fic just because it doesn't fit the plot i've made LOL. enjoy!

You were an accident in every possible way.

Born an astounding eight years after Travis, nearly eleven after Jason, you weren’t exactly planned. By the time you came along, your parents had been convinced they were done, their hands already full with two loud, competitive boys who spent more time wrestling in the backyard than sitting still. And then—there was you.

A baby sister in every sense of the word.

Your brothers treated you like some kind of rare, delicate thing at first, unsure what to do with you other than stare into your crib and poke at your tiny hands. But that didn’t last long. Before you could even walk, Jason was letting you sit on his lap while he played video games, and Travis had appointed himself your unofficial bodyguard, glaring at anyone who so much as breathed in your direction.

You grew up surrounded by chaos—loud dinners, backyard football games that almost always ended in someone getting tackled too hard, and a house full of laughter. Your parents tried their best to raise you with the same principles that had shaped your brothers, but you were different from the start.

Where Jason was responsible and steady, you were restless. Where Travis was loud and the life of the party, you were observant.

It wasn’t that you were quiet—no one raised in a Kelce household could be described as quiet—but you learned early on how to move through the world a little differently. Being the youngest meant you had to be quick-witted, fast on your feet, and always ready to hold your own. If you didn’t, you’d get run over.

By the time you hit high school, you had learned how to use your last name to your advantage. It got you free drinks at parties, easier conversations with teachers, and a built-in reputation before you ever had to prove yourself. But it also came with expectations—the kind that lingered over you like a shadow.

People expected you to be just like your brothers.

Maybe a little wild, maybe a little reckless. Definitely athletic. Definitely loud.

And you were some of those things.

You were an athlete, sure—your dad would’ve had an aneurysm if you weren’t—but not in the way people wanted. You had a sharp competitive streak, but you never cared about being the best. You played because it was fun, because it was expected, because you liked the feeling of winning, but you never had dreams of making it big. Not like Jason. Not like Travis.

And as for being reckless? You were a Kelce, so it was in your blood. But you were also smart. Calculated. Where Travis would throw himself into anything just to see what would happen, you thought three steps ahead. You weren’t scared of getting into trouble, but you were good at avoiding it.

That was the thing about growing up the way you did—watching your brothers carve their paths before you. You learned how to navigate things differently. You let them be the loudest people in the room while you played the long game, slipping through cracks unnoticed until you wanted to be noticed.

You didn’t date much in high school—not seriously, anyway. Not because people didn’t try (being a Kelce came with its perks), but because most boys were too intimidated by the idea of dating Jason and Travis Kelce’s little sister. You never really minded. Most of the guys at your school weren’t worth your time, anyway.

But you did notice the way people looked at you.

The way guys wanted to say they had a shot with you, even if they never tried. The way girls sometimes whispered about you, speculating if you were actually as down-to-earth as you pretended to be. The way teachers expected you to either be a slacker or a prodigy, like there was no in-between.

You weren’t sure when exactly you started feeling like an enigma—like people had decided who you were before you even had a chance to figure it out for yourself.

Maybe it was when your friends started bringing you to parties just because your last name got you through the door. Maybe it was when people started assuming you were only where you were because of your family. Maybe it was when you realized that, no matter what you did, you’d always be compared to the brothers who came before you.

By the time you graduated, you had perfected the art of keeping people at a distance. You knew how to smile just enough to be approachable, how to joke just enough to make people like you. But you also knew how to keep things yours.

And so you did.

You left home with the intention of making a name for yourself—outside of football, outside of the Kelce legacy. You weren’t running away from it, exactly. You just needed something that was yours alone.

And for the most part, you succeeded.

You built a life that had nothing to do with your last name. You found your own friends, your own career, your own world. You managed to exist outside of the NFL bubble, despite how often it tried to pull you back in. And for years, that was enough.

You were nineteen when you met Jayson Tatum.

Nineteen and reckless in the way only someone on the verge of something monumental can be—when success feels inevitable, and the world hasn’t yet taught you how cruel it can be. You had grown up in the shadows of your last name, in the periphery of stadium lights, in the echoes of your brothers’ roaring crowds. But Jayson was the first person who made you feel like the center of something.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what it meant to love someone like him—someone whose name was already in the rafters, whose presence carried weight before he even walked into a room. He was smooth, confident, charming in that way that made you want to believe him. And maybe that was the problem: you did.

It started fast, the way these things always do. Courtside seats, late-night flights, whispered phone calls from different time zones. He made you feel special, called you his “genius,” said he had never met someone like you before. But love with him always came with conditions. He loved you, but he wanted you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into the spaces left between his career, his schedule, his life. And you tried. God, you tried. You sat in the stands, smiled for the cameras, learned the rhythms of his world even when he never bothered to learn yours.

And it was never enough.

It was always push and pull, a constant cycle of breaking and rebuilding. He would tell you he couldn’t do it anymore, that you were too much, that he needed someone who understood his life. And then weeks later, he’d be back, whispering apologies, promising he had figured it out this time. And you—stupid, hopeful, nineteen, then twenty, then twenty-one—kept believing him.

Until December 2022. The last time. The worst time.

You had always been careful, always known how to exist just outside the spotlight, but this time, the breakup wasn’t just yours. It was public. Messy. Everywhere. Headlines dissecting your relationship, tabloids picking apart your heartbreak like it was something they were entitled to. Your face plastered across the internet, grainy photos of you leaving restaurants, ducking into cars, standing alone in a crowd. Strangers speculating about you, about him, about what went wrong, about whether you were as heartbroken as they hoped you’d be.

And the worst part? You were. You just didn’t want them to know it.

You had never cared about fame—not like that, not in the way the world suddenly seemed to demand from you. You weren’t built for it, for the attention, for the scrutiny, for the way people suddenly decided you were interesting now that you were broken.

It was the lowest you had ever been.

After that, you buried yourself in work, in building something no one could take from you. You stopped trusting the cameras, stopped giving interviews, stopped letting people in. And love? Love became something you didn’t have time for. Something you couldn’t afford.

Not until Joe. But that was another story.

⟢ JULY 2023

The Kelces did the Fourth of July the same way they did everything else—loud, chaotic, and with enough food to feed an army.

The backyard was still a mess from the day’s events. Empty plates stacked on tables, beer bottles scattered across the deck, remnants of water balloons forgotten in the grass. The kids had long since crashed, curled up in the living room after a full day of running around, and your parents had finally turned in for the night. That left just the three of you—Jason, Travis, and you—lingering in the kitchen, picking at the last of the food and settling in for what was, by tradition, gossip hour.

Jason was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking half-exhausted, half-amused as he nursed what was probably his final beer of the night. Kylie had gone upstairs an hour ago, throwing a “don’t let him stay up too late” over her shoulder before disappearing. Travis was still riding the high of a long day—barefoot, tanned from the sun, and grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

You, for your part, were perched on the counter, sipping a Coke because you had a feeling one of you needed to remain at least somewhat coherent.

“So, uh,” Travis started, reaching for the last deviled egg on the platter. “Speaking of cool people, guess who I started talking to?”

Jason shot him a tired look. “Oh, here we go.”

You glanced between them. “What do you mean, talking to?”

Travis grinned. “Taylor Swift.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jason groaned, running a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Trav.”

“What?” Travis said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s not a big deal.”

You snorted. “You just casually dropped Taylor Swift into the conversation like it’s the weather. That’s not normal.”

Jason pointed at you. “Exactly. Thank you.”

Travis rolled his eyes, shoving the deviled egg into his mouth. “It’s not like that. We’ve just been texting. I shot my shot, and what do you know? The Kelce charm works.”

Jason looked unimpressed. “Define ‘texting.’”

Travis chewed thoughtfully. “Like… texting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Travis.”

He smirked. “Okay, fine. I invited her to a game. She didn’t come, but she thought it was funny. We started talking. She’s cool as hell.”

You stared at him, processing. “Hold on. You shot your shot with Taylor Swift—arguably the biggest pop star in the world—by inviting her to a football game?”

Travis shrugged. “I mean, yeah.”

Jason huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I hate that it worked.”

You leaned forward, intrigued now. “Wait, so what do you guys talk about?”

Travis grinned. “Oh, you know. Life. Music. Football. Friendship bracelets.”

Jason made a strangled noise. “I swear to God—”

“I’m serious!” Travis held up his hands. “She thought it was funny! That’s what started it, actually.”

You narrowed your eyes, skeptical. “And how often are you guys texting?”

Travis took a sip of his beer, clearly stalling.

“Travis.”

He sighed dramatically. “Every day. Okay? Happy?”

Jason looked at you, then back at him. “Holy shit. You like her.”

Travis scoffed. “Of course I like her, she’s Taylor fuckin’ Swift.”

“No,” you cut in, pointing at him. “Not just, like, ‘fan’ like her. You actually like her.”

Travis hesitated. And that was all you needed to see.

Jason whistled low, shaking his head. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “Or… it’s gonna be the greatest thing to ever happen to you.”

Travis gave you a look, something half-serious beneath all the usual bravado. “You think?”

You shrugged. “I think you have a long road ahead of you if you actually wanna date Taylor Swift. But if anyone’s got the balls to do it, it’s you.”

Travis sat back, considering that. Then he smirked. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Jason groaned. “Oh God.”

You hopped off the counter, stealing the beer out of Travis’s hand and taking a sip. “I can’t wait for Mom to find out.”

Travis laughed, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.”

And just like that, the topic shifted—because that was the thing about being a Kelce. No matter how big the news, how crazy the story, at the end of the day, you were just family. Talking shit in the kitchen, making fun of each other, and watching history unfold in real time.

The whole thing kind of unraveled in front of you.

One minute, Travis was dropping Taylor Swift’s name into a conversation like it was nothing, and the next, she was there. Not in a surreal, once-in-a-lifetime, see-her-from-a-distance kind of way—but in the real way. The kind where she was suddenly just… around. Sitting across from you at dinner, feet tucked under her on the couch, sipping a drink at the same backyard parties you had been going to your whole life.

It wasn’t weird, not exactly. It was just happening.

You had been close to fame before, obviously. Jason and Travis had built their careers in the public eye, and you had spent your whole life in and around that world, brushing shoulders with athletes and celebrities who treated your last name like a golden ticket. You knew how to navigate it, how to smile politely and act like it didn’t phase you.

But this was different.

Because this wasn’t just fame. This was Taylor Swift—and she wasn’t just a headline or a name on a stadium marquee. She was here, in your world, existing in it like she belonged. And the strangest part? She kind of did.

You liked her. She was easy to like. Funny, quick-witted, smarter than people probably even realized. She had this way of making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room when she talked to them. Even you, at times, when she wasn’t entirely preoccupied with Travis.

And, well. That was the thing, wasn’t it?

Because she was preoccupied with Travis.

That was the whole point.

She wasn’t your friend. She wasn’t coming around to hang out with you. She was here for him. And that was fine. It was great, actually. You had never seen your brother like this before—completely, stupidly, out-of-his-mind happy. He glowed around her, and you were happy for him.

But somewhere along the way, you started to notice it.

The third wheel feeling.

It wasn’t obvious at first. Not in the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting and unbelievable.

But then came the dinners where you felt like a spectator to their conversations. The trips where you ended up walking three steps behind them. The inside jokes you weren’t a part of, the glances they shared across rooms like they were in on some secret that you weren’t.

And sure, Travis had always been larger than life. His presence had always been something you had to navigate around. But now? Now, there was them. And you? You were just… there.

It got to the point where even your nieces—who were still young enough to have no filter—started noticing. You’d barely sat down at one of your parents’ Sunday dinners when Wyatt, with all the innocence of a child, looked up at you and asked, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

You had laughed, mostly out of shock, but the sting was still there. And then it happened again. And again.

And that was how Elliot became your best friend.

At just over a year old, she was the only one who didn’t ask why you were always alone, or where your mystery boyfriend was, or when you were going to bring someone home like Travis had. Instead, she was just happy to exist beside you, happy to let you carry her around like a little security blanket when you needed an excuse to step away from them.

You spent more time with her than you did with the adults most nights, letting her babble nonsense at you while you tuned out the rest of the room.

--

Joe Burrow wasn’t born into greatness.

He was born into a world where nothing was guaranteed, where talent didn’t always mean success, where hard work didn’t always lead to the dream. He grew up watching his father grind his way through the football world, moving from coaching job to coaching job, never staying anywhere long enough to feel settled. He understood from a young age that football wasn’t just a game—it was survival. It was everything.

But for most of his life, Joe wasn’t the guy. He wasn’t the five-star recruit, the kid whose name carried weight before he even stepped on the field. He was good—great, even—but great didn’t always mean enough. Ohio State was supposed to be his shot, his moment, the place where he proved himself. Instead, it was where he sat on the bench, waiting for a chance that never came, watching other guys take the field while he tried to convince himself it wasn’t slipping away from him.

There were nights he thought about giving it up. That maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. That maybe football had already given him all it was going to. But he wasn’t built to quit, and when LSU came calling, he took the leap.

That was the moment everything changed.

LSU wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a resurrection. It was the first time he felt like the guy, like he wasn’t just taking up space on a roster but actually belonged there. The game slowed down, the doubt faded, and for the first time in his life, he thought: Maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can be great.

Then came 2019. The season. The Heisman. The national championship. The moment his life shifted from maybe to inevitable. He went from overlooked to undeniable, from backup to first overall pick, from fighting for a shot to standing at the top of the football world.

And somewhere in all of that, there was Olivia.

She had been there from Ohio State, through the struggles, through the late nights spent questioning everything. She was safe, steady, someone who knew him before everything changed. And for a while, that was enough. They built a life together in the in-between spaces of his career—through the transfer, through LSU, through the draft, through the move to Cincinnati.

But something had shifted along the way. Maybe it was the fame, the pressure, the way football consumed everything in its path. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent so long chasing this dream that he didn’t know how to slow down, didn’t know how to be the kind of man who could put something else—someone else—first.

Or maybe they had just grown into different people.

The love had been real. That was never a question. But real didn’t always mean forever, and when the cracks started to show, neither of them could ignore them. The long distance, the late nights, the feeling of being together but not really together. Football had always been his first love, and Olivia had always understood that. But understanding didn’t make it easier.

By the time the breakup happened, it felt inevitable. A quiet ending, no messy headlines, no dramatic fallout. Just two people who had spent years trying to make something work, finally realizing it wasn’t meant to.

Joe had never been one for public spectacle, had never been the guy who wanted his love life picked apart. But that didn’t stop people from talking. From wondering when he’d date again, who he’d be seen with, what kind of woman would fit into the world he had built.

But he wasn’t looking. Football was still everything, still the thing that took up all the space in his life.

At least, until you.

[anantaru]

albedo with a breeding kink?

cw. breeding kink, you guys are kinda reckless, implications of wanting to get you pregnant!!!!!, fem! reader

a/n. albedo + breeding is so canon, like there's no way it isn't

albedo knows of the risks of deciding against using a condom tonight, and if anything, he was aware of it more than anybody else— although you said it's alright, only for this one time, ultimately you sought after feeling him inside of you as well, raw and pressed up deep against your most dearest places.

the possible consequences? well, certainly they could be dealt with after.

what's more to it, such prospect of naivety was quite audacious, yes, perhaps, but albedo had always inspired you to try out reckless things— because believe it or not but he was a fan of trying out new kinks in the bedroom, maybe for research purposes or simple curiosity.

for all you know, it could also be his way of figuring out the notions he found to be delicious.

now, one of his hands was clenched at the side of your thigh to keep you steadied while the other was wrapped around himself, slowly pumping his length to the bare sight of you as his cock stayed perfectly settled against your sopping folds, sticking and messing up your core with his pre.

you admire his chest, how it seems like he was just perfect, no flaws, barely dusted with sweat, at any rate that little glow on his skin made him even more beautiful.

his abs too, incandescent without blemish, sculpted with lean muscle.

albedo slowly taps the head of his cock against your hole and smiles when he notices how your slick was immediately covering him. as though sensing his stare, your hips shuffle up to play with him, in fact, giving your boyfriend a clear indicator that you've waited for him long enough turned him on even more.

to be able to jam you with his cum tonight sent even more blood rushing down to his dick until he hisses at the slight throbs his shaft would set free, until of course, he decided it was time for his cock to bury its inches inside of your melting walls.

his hips start to go fast immediately— each thrust multiplying its rhythm to the point where you could feel his warm ruts pervade your skin. it's almost cruel, as were his eyes so heated and hungry, pupils blown as his gaze slips up and down the connection of your joined bodies.

what had first started out as a foreplay session with no rush and taking ones time, now gradually developed into something much more delicious.

albedo wasn't drawing your pleasure out anymore nor did he want to keep you waiting any longer either, he stopped the teasing too— although he would still squeeze and pinch your erect nipples to keep them all nicely for him.

no taunting anymore, no tapping his cock-head against your folds or fucking you with his tip to watch your sweet reactions set the room on fire, because you see, albedo was seeking his own pleasure in this moment— said pleasure not being the climax himself, but the lewd sight of you taking him and that need to splatter his cum all over your sore walls until your legs were beginning to shake around his hips.

your lips part and you moan lowly as he pushes his chest against your own, the precious sounds slipping from your mouth breaking into rough parts as your walls wrap around him ever do tight, leaving the man breathless and hot inside.

instead of rolling into each movement, albedo decides on a different approach and rocks his hips back and forth your pussy, switching between as fast as he could go while then going slower again, forcing you to feel the way his cock presses up against the sweet spot inside of you, fast and slow fast and slow, taking only slight adjustment on his tempo as to make you feel the pressure all the way across your lower area, the feeling that he knew made your eyes roll back into your head.

that's what it was in the end, the pleasure that sent you aflame, too much for too little of time, making you want more as you both come undone, you two at the same time.

albedo's hips buck needily as they stutter through each thrust when you throb and clench down on him, cumming strongly all around his shaft until he could feel a filthy ring of whiteness cover his dripping erection.

a needy, god-awful whimper escapes his throat as he moans luxuriously into your neck when he feels his cum rush to all the right places, the tight entanglement of your walls pressing tight against his shaft spiking electric bolds through his nerves.

although his hips won't stop moving yet.

much to his surprise, your cunt still took him impossibly deep, so tight and wet and unable to slide himself out. yet you're utterly spent that you had to rely on him holding your legs up. even so, you didn't want to lose the connection yet and neither was your boyfriend as he decided to keep himself stored in you.

sure enough, albedo wanted to stay like this for a while, or even longer, because he knew if he was to pull out now, all of his hard work would come to waste and you'd be empty of him much faster than he could even process.

otherwise than that, he really hoped it had worked tonight, there's no way that it wouldn't have, right? after all, his precise calculations always seems to be right.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[melzula]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Zuko go on a run for supplies .Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Zuko gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Zuko later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

a/n: ty for requesting and hope you enjoy anon !

summary: zuko apologizes and receives something in return

What was meant to be a simple trip into town for supplies had quickly turned into a disaster, and Zuko believed it was your recklessness to blame.

You’d been too preoccupied in admiring a local merchant’s vast collection of sea shells to notice the Fire Nation soldier creeping up behind you, and if not for Zuko shoving you out of the way to take on the man himself you surely would have been burnt alive. Your failure to stay aware of your surroundings and lackadaisical attitude had almost gotten you killed, and the Prince made sure to point this out to you afterward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He scolds you after dragging you out of the marketplace by the arm and back towards camp.

“I was looking at shells, actually, before you so rudely interrupted,” you correct with an impatient roll of your eyes, but the act only seems to annoy him further.

“This isn’t a game, y/n! We didn’t come here to mess around, we came to quickly get more food and go, and we couldn’t even do that because you were too busy looking at stupid shells to notice your surroundings! You could have been hurt or worse!”

“Relax, ‘your highness,’” you dismiss him defensively, harshly yanking your arm away from his grasp. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. I’m fine. You need to stop overreacting and leave me alone!”

Zuko watches with a scowl as you stomp away from him and towards your tent, ignoring the quizzical looks your friends send your way as you shut the flaps closed.

“What’s her problem?” Toph asks with a raised brow from her spot beside the campfire.

“What did you do?” Katara snaps at the boy with an accusatory glare.

“I didn’t do anything!” Zuko exclaims defensively. “As a matter of fact, I just saved her life and now she’s mad at me!”

“Saved her life? What happened out there?” Aang questions with a worried frown. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A Fire Nation soldier snuck up on her while she was distracted and was about to strike before I pushed y/n out of the way and fought him myself.”

“So… what you’re saying is you guys didn’t get any food?” Sokka notes dejectedly only to receive a scolding smack upside the head from his sister.

“If you saved her life, then why is she so upset?”

“I may have been a bit harsh with her after,” Zuko admits reluctantly, awkwardly grasping at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to snap at her, but I was just frustrated that she wasn’t taking her own safety seriously.”

“Look, that’s just how y/n is sometimes. She’s too trusting of her surroundings sometimes, but you have to gently remind her to be careful,” Sokka explains to his friend. “Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at her she would have taken you seriously.”

“Just give her some time to cool off and apologize later,” Katara advises the fire bender. “She just needs her space.”

Frustrated, Zuko lets out a long sigh before ultimately relenting. Katara is right. He just needs to give you some space to process before bothering you again.

By nightfall the moon has risen in the sky and the rest of your group has called it a day, retreating to their tents to sleep and rest for whatever tomorrow may bring. You still haven’t set foot out of yours since Zuko yelled at you, and the Prince has spent the better half of his day groveling outside waiting for you to emerge. He’s beginning to grow impatient, but he’s also extremely worried. You missed dinner, and no one has been able to get you to come out.

Deciding enough is enough, Zuko takes it upon himself to barge into your tent and check on you. Better you be mad at him for invading your space without permission than for something to be wrong with you without anyone knowing.

When he enters your tent the last thing he expects to find is your figure curled up in your sleeping bag crying. Your body trembles under the blankets and your quiet sniffles are the only sound in the space. If you notice his presence you don’t acknowledge it, and Zuko hesitates before carefully sitting himself beside you.

“Y/n?” He calls out softly, gently pulling the covers back to get a look at your face. Water marks line across your cheeks from tears that had managed to dry off your skin, and it takes you a moment to finally meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry for making you mad,” you whisper meekly, voice cracking with effort after hours of minimal use.

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I should be apologizing for how I acted,” he assures you sincerely, carefully wiping away your remaining tears. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was just worried about your safety- I’m not sure what I would have done if something bad had happened to you.”

“You really mean that?” You sniffle, looking up at him with doubt clear in your eyes.

“Of course I do. I know it probably didn’t seem that way when I was yelling at you, but I’ve come to care a lot for you, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I didn’t know…” you murmur quietly as you carefully sit up from your sleeping bag to reach eye level with the Prince. “I always figured you just saw me as some annoying girl you had to babysit.”

“Well, maybe at first,” he admits with a sheepish chuckle only to immediately stop when he catches your unamused glare, “but now I look forward to being sent to the market with you. I enjoy your company even if it means having to be more vigilant of our surroundings on your behalf. Can you just promise me that next time you’ll be a little more careful?”

“I promise,” you nod earnestly and, much to Zuko’s surprise, pull him in for a tight hug. He stiffens at first, unsure how to react to the close contact, but eventually he’s able to allow himself a chance to enjoy your warmth and reciprocate your embrace.

Only you could have the grumpy Prince wrapped so tightly around your finger.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

[sistertotheknowitall]

DCxDP Prompt

Because I couldn’t get Congratulations! It’s Triplets! By @rboooks out of my head.

—

Jason wouldn’t say he regret it. Sure it wasn’t what he planned nor was it what he would have wanted, but he didn’t regret it. They didn’t mean to become parents, it was a one night stand. He wondered if this was how Roy felt when Jade had Lian. Like the world had been flipped on its head. Like everything he thought he knew now seemed wrong.

Lian would like his daughter. From what Jason could tell he thought they’d be fast friends.

Christ. His daughter.

He watched as she ran through the front door, her mom following behind. She was talking a mile a minute, her hands flying around her face. Her mom threw her head back, laughing. God he wished he could hear it. Hear what all his daughter had to say. He wanted to be a real dad to her not just a father. Someone she could talk to and trust. However, as Jason continued to watch from the roof across the street, he knew that he could never get that close. This was as far as he could reach.

A crime lord, who was legally dead and had a kill count. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad. The two examples he had wouldn’t exactly be considered great role models.

Her mother had named her Ellie, short for Daniella after her late uncle Daniel or “Danny.” She was feisty and a little brash, his daughter. Jason would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some pride in knowing some of that was him. Although he could see the same stubbornness in Jazmine.

He thinks that’s what drew him to her. Standing in a bar on a side of town she definitely shouldn’t have been in, she had held her own against two men trying to drag her out. Jason went to step in when she had pulled a police grade taser out and had both men on their knees in pain before he moved two steps. He didn’t introduce himself that night (she was a little preoccupied with the police). However, he got the chance to a few months later and one thing led to another and they had slept together. He left with barely a goodbye and they never saw each other again. Jason was too preoccupied with his plans for Bruce and the clown to spend time thinking about one night.

As for her, he knew she was a student at Gotham U and figured she had also spent little time thinking about that night.

Imagine his surprise when he stumbled upon her again but with a child. His child.

He didn’t know how to really feel about it, about her, Ellie.

As much as he hates to admit it he spent the first week getting drunk and despairing at being a deadbeat. He eventually calmed down and reasoned that it wasn’t his fault nor Jazmine’s. He had given her a fake first name and they hadn’t exchanged last names. Even if she did want to tell him she was pregnant she had no way of finding him.

And he never thought he needed to be looking for them.

—-

Jazz could feel them being watched and did her best to act normal. She never gave away that she was aware of him. She didn’t want to frighten Ellie and she was still unsure of how to handle the situation. It has been weeks and he never once seemed interested in harming them. Yet.

He just watched. Not all the time- not every day, but at least once a week she could feel him staring from a roof, a window, the mouth of an ally. He followed them at night and watched for a bit after they returned home. In a way it felt like he was protecting them, but in what sense did this hulking figure have a right to guard them? It also begged the question; what was he protecting them from?

Jazz was near positive that she had never interacted with the mask figure nor any other that roamed Gotham. She did her best to avoid them, all of them.

It could be he was fixated on her as a single mother to a reckless little girl. If that was so, then she was going to have to be more cautious. She didn’t want to even give him a chance to think he could approach Ellie. Stalkers were never a good thing but she knew the GCPD would never take it seriously.

All he was doing was watching.

Jazz knew her daughter was smart beyond her five years of life, but she was still just a child. So while Jazz was certain that Ellie had no idea about their predicament, she knew Ellie could feel something was off. The young girl had started to look around more on their walks home, her head swiveling, looking for something she couldn’t explain. Jazz hated it. Her daughter should be skipping as she told Jazz about her day in pre-school, not gripping her mother’s pant leg, silent as she looked for the source of her unease.

For the life of her, Jazz did not know what the man could possibly want and while it pissed her off to no end it also frightened her. Of course it frightened her. She was a single mother in Gotham City with a stalker. Maybe she should summon Danny or send Ellie to her grandparents for a bit while she takes care of this.

[sansaorgana]

— A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

PAIRING — King Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You visit Aegon with your children in his chambers after he nearly lost his life due to his reckless decision to join the battle.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is just a very self-indulgent fic where both twins are alive (I haven't described their looks because Reader is their mother – I have only mentioned their hair colour) and Aegon's injuries aren't even half as bad as in canon. 🙈

WORD COUNT — 3,600

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

When your servants informed you about Aegon planning to depart on Sunfyre and that he was getting fully armoured, your heart stopped beating for a good while before you gathered your skirts in your hands and rushed all the way to the Dragonpit. Your sworn guard could barely keep up with your pace.

“My Queen!” He tried to stop you but you remained deaf to his pleas. All that was important to you was to stop Aegon from making a mistake.

You knew what he was planning to do because all those nights when he had been drunk on wine and whining about his council ignoring him, he had been threatening to just hop on his dragon and join the real fight eventually. Something had to happen on that day, which had finally pushed all his buttons and caused him to take the drastic step.

But when you ran into the Dragonpit, he was already gone. You rushed outside and looked up. The beautiful Sunfyre was up in the sky and flying away. You put your hand over your forehead to cast a shadow upon your face.

“The King has already departed, My Queen,” your sworn guard informed you and took a few deep breaths in after the rapid chase.

“May the Gods protect our King,” you swallowed a lump in your throat and whispered a short prayer. There was nothing you could do now, really. You didn’t have your own dragon, on which you would hop on to join him in the battlefield to help him.

That feeling of being helpless was the greatest burden. Therefore, you understood your husband’s frustration. He was the King, after all, and he wanted to feel like one.

But you were the Queen. And all you could do was to wait and pray.

The news from Rook’s Rest came with a raven and you were in the room with the Dowager Queen Alicent when you read that King Aegon had managed to kill Meleys and her rider, Princess Rhaenys. However, the King himself and his own dragon Sunfyre were injured. The letter brought to you did not dwell on the state of either of them.

You finished reading the words out loud and glanced at your mother-in-law. She covered her face with her hand to muffle the sound of a sob coming out of her mouth. Your lips were trembling, too.

“He’s alive,” you tried to comfort both her and your own self. “And a hero, too.”

“My boy…” Queen Alicent stood up to approach the window.

“With all due respect, My Queen,” you stood up and dropped the letter onto the surface of the desk before approaching her. “We both know why Aegon went to the battle. The servants informed me about his drunken state and… An argument… Between you two,” you told her, carefully. You did not want to damage the relationship you had with Queen Alicent.

She was a good mother-in-law and she loved her children, however, sometimes, she struggled with emotions. Which was no fault of hers, especially now, on the verge of a civil war – everyone struggled. But you were also aware of how important she was to your husband.

Sometimes, it felt as if his mother was the only important person in his life. He did not care for anyone else as much as for her – excluding your children, of course. But his mother was often the main subject of his conversations when you two were alone, discussing your problems. And no matter how much love and support you were showing to him, he was still unsatisfied because what he craved and needed truly was her approval. 

“I deeply regret the words I have said to him,” Queen Alicent turned around to look at your face. “But they cannot be undone now.”

“No, they cannot,” you nodded and she sobbed once more. You felt bad for her, so you put your hand gently on her shoulder. “Do not put all the blame on yourself, My Queen,” you whispered to her. “My husband is known for being impulsive and it is not a secret he likes wine more than he should.”

“And who raised him this way?” Queen Alicent asked you with her big brown eyes filled with pain and guilt.

“My husband had a father, too,” you reminded her. “Also, some… Some things… Us, parents, we cannot help them. Our children are not our property but humans of their own and we cannot shape them the way we like. There are often forces stronger than us that mislead and misguide them from our paths,” you comforted her.

When the knights came back from Rook’s Rest, they had Meleys’ head that they were showing off to the peasants as they praised your husband’s victory. You had to admit, the sight of that red beast’s head was gruesome and the smell was awful as well, however it brought some pride to you that it was your husband who had slain her.

Still, he was what you cared about the most. You rushed to his chambers where he would be brought by the knights and where the Maesters waited for his arrival.

You were scared to see what state he was in. You were scared to see the injuries and blood but you were his wife and you couldn’t imagine hiding somewhere else. You just had to endure it and remain by his side. Queen Alicent stood by you as well and you both waited. When you heard the approaching footsteps, she reached her hand out to grab your wrist and you held her hand to squeeze it in a comforting manner. You both needed that.

The nauseous smell reached your nostrils first – metallic scent of blood and the eye-watering stench of burnt flesh. Groaning Aegon was laid down on his bed as Maesters rushed to his side before you could take a better look at his face.

Queen Alicent gasped and turned around to cry but you let go of her hand and tried to stand between all the men gathered around your husband’s bed.

“My Queen, please,” one of the Maesters looked at you pleadingly. “Do not interrupt, for the King’s sake.”

“That is not a sight for the Queen,” another one told you.

“He is my husband!” You pushed him away to get closer to Aegon and the sight of him made your heart clench.

You sobbed just like his mother at the sight of his skin covered in bruises and blood, while the left part of his body was burnt in many places to the point that his armour had melted into his skin – Maesters worked on removing it as quickly as possible. Even Aegon’s face was burnt on his left cheek and his leg was broken, too.

“Aegon…” You whispered and walked the bed around to find yourself on the better side of him, the one less injured. You grabbed his hand to squeeze and he hissed out of pain before laying his teary eyes on you. “Oh, Aegon…” You sobbed some more and fell to your knees to place a kiss upon his hand before pressing it to your forehead. “I have been praying for you, my King. Thank the Gods for bringing you back to me and now might they grant you strength…”

“My Queens, please,” Grand Maester Orwyle looked at Queen Alicent. “We will call for you after we are done with the King. Let us work now.”

You tried to stand up but you stumbled and it was your sworn guard who had to intervene and raise you up from the floor before walking you out with his hands placed respectfully on your shoulders.

You were pacing around your chambers nervously for the second hour now. All the food brought to you by the servants was lying cold on the table because you couldn’t touch it. Every time someone walked past your doors, your heart was skipping a beat, thinking it was some news about your husband.

Finally, a light knock had your head spinning as you rushed to open the doors before your guard even managed to reach out to push them.

“What is it?!” You asked the Maester standing in front of the chambers.

“The King can receive visitors now, My Queen,” he bowed his head in front of you.

“Thank the Gods,” you mumbled to yourself. “How is he? Will he be alright?”

“His convalescence will be a long one but he will be alright, eventually,” the man answered and then he looked away nervously.

“But…? What is it?!” You furrowed your brows.

“The King might never walk again, My Queen,” he informed you, quietly.

You pursed your lips. The news was heartbreaking for you but you knew it had to be even more devastating for Aegon. On the other hand, you’d rather have him laying in bed all day long than have him dead.

“It is a small price to pay the Gods for sparing his life,” you only nodded. “Thank you, Maester,” you added and walked away.

Before going to your husband’s chambers, you went to the nursery first where your silver-haired twins were playing together, unaware of anything that had taken place on that day.

“Jaehaerys,” you crouched down next to the boy playing with a wooden dragon.

“I don’t want to go to sleep yet,” he whined.

“No, darling, not to sleep,” you caressed his hair and offered him your hand before extending the other one towards Jaehaera. “We are going to see daddy,” you told them. “He is unwell,” you added and the eyes of your children looked up at you, worryingly. “He was fighting in a battle on Sunfyre and he got hurt,” you explained in a way they could understand. “He would love to see you now, I bet.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera both stood up and squeezed your hands. You walked them out of the nursery and guided them to your husband’s chambers.

Those had been his own father’s chambers before and Aegon did not like them for that very reason. Most of the time he was spending time and sleeping in your chambers but now you believed he would have to stay in his father’s ones for quite a long time. However, you would visit him every day anyway.

You had been young teenagers when you had met for the first time and you had hated him at first. You still remembered that night when you had been crying from dusk till dawn about the fact you would have to marry him one day. But when you had actually arrived at King's Landing to marry him a few years later, you had been surprised by how much you had grown to like him despite his undeniable flaws.

Also, everyone was saying that your marriage was doing him good and you were changing him for the better. It had always been making you feel proud to hear such words and all of Aegon’s attempts to make you like him more had been only causing you to fall for him harder and harder. Even though some of his attempts had failed, they had still been proving to you that he cared about you.

At the sight of you coming, his guards bowed down and opened the doors leading to your husband’s chambers as they announced you.

“Queen (Y/N) with Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera.”

You walked inside the chambers carefully and felt your children squeezing your hands at the sight of their father. Aegon was sitting on the bed now with many pillows behind his back but the bruises had not magically disappeared from his skin after all. Nor had the burns or a broken leg that was now propped up to heal properly.

Aegon cracked a smile at you and his children. You let go of their hands and they looked up at you, questioningly.

“Go to daddy,” you nodded your head at them and they ran up to their father’s bed.

“Daddy!” Jaehaera squealed as Jaehaerys climbed up to sit by Aegon’s better side. Jaehaera tried to do that as well but she struggled. You chuckled at that and helped her.

“Be careful with daddy, he’s still in pain,” you told your children and watched them carefully as they sat by your husband.

Aegon raised his less injured hand to brush their arms with his fingers before laying his hand down again and you took it gently and placed it upon your lap after sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright, daddy?” Jaehaerys asked with widened eyes. “Mummy said you were in the battle on Sunfyre!”

“Yes…” Aegon answered in a raspy voice before clearing his throat. “Yes, I was. And I won,” he added, weakly.

“When will you be better, daddy?” Jaehaera asked as she crawled closer to her father. She cupped his cheeks gently and you knew it had to bring your husband some pain but he didn’t let it show. His eyes filled with tears again. “You have an ouchie here!” She pointed at his left cheek that was burnt.

“Jaehaera, don’t touch!” You gently took her hand away.

“I don’t know when I will be better, my love,” Aegon smiled sadly at her. “But I will be, I promise.”

“And will that heal?” Jaehaerys pointed his hand at his father’s leg.

“Yes,” Aegon nodded.

“And the ouchie?” Jaehaera’s small lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears.

“The ouchie will stop hurting but it won’t go away. Daddy will forever have those marks from being burnt,” you caressed her hair gently and she sniffled. “Ah, don’t cry, little one, that is an honour for a man to carry such scars. Your father is a hero who has survived dragonfire.”

“Really?!” Jaehaerys asked.

“I have slain Meleys, The Red Queen,” Aegon answered him and Jaehaerys gasped. You could see a shadow of pride on your husband’s face.

“Do spare them the details, dear husband,” you interrupted them, “for they are too small.”

“And how is Sunfyre, daddy?” Jaehaera asked him.

“Right, how is he?” You asked with a furrowed brow. You were curious, too.

“He might never fly again…” Aegon looked away sadly and your heart felt heavy at his words. You were aware of the bond he shared with his beloved dragon but it was also a bad omen, you thought. 

If Sunfyre would never fly again, it could mean that your husband would never walk again either. You swallowed a lump in your throat and gave his hand a light squeeze to let him know you would stay by his side no matter what.

“If Sunfyre can’t fly again, I will let you fly on my dragon sometime, daddy,” Jaehaerys tried to cheer his father up with a sweet smile and Aegon chuckled at that. His hand left your lap to ruffle his son’s hair.

Jaehaerys’ dragon was so young that it was still smaller than him.

“I will let you fly on mine, too!” Jaehaera promised. “But not to battle!” She added and Aegon bopped her on the nose.

Her dragon was even smaller than her brother’s.

“Thank you, my sweetlings,” your husband nodded at them and you spotted exhaustion in his eyes, which you were not surprised to see after such a long and painful day.

“It’s bedtime for you, my darlings,” you reminded your children and they whined. “We will visit daddy again, on the morrow, yes?”

“Can I bring my toys here on the morrow and play with them with you, daddy?” Jaehaerys asked.

“Can I, too?” His sister’s eyes widened.

“Yes… Yes… If I am not too tired, that is,” Aegon promised them.

“If not on the morrow, then some other day,” you stood up and helped your children to jump off of Aegon’s bed. “Your father won’t leave these chambers for a long time,” you gave him a scolding look since, after all, it had been his fault that he was lying there. And now, seeing that he would be quite alright eventually, you allowed yourself to have such thoughts instead of drowning in worry.

“Good night, daddy,” Jaehaerys and Jaehaera said in unison before the doors opened in front of you.

“Take them to their nanny and tell her it’s their bedtime already,” you informed your sworn guard who was waiting for you outside, following you like a shadow as usual.

He nodded at you and extended his hands for the Prince and Princess to take them. They held onto him and you watched them walk away before you took a deep breath in and turned around to go back to your husband.

Once again you sat on the edge of his bed and you sighed at the sight of him. His eyes were full of tears now as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out.

“You reckless fool!” You exclaimed and then you covered your mouth with your hand and you looked away, too. “I could have lost you…”

“Well, that would have been for the better. Now you have a cripple for a husband,” Aegon remarked.

“It is not known yet,” you pointed out and leaned in to be closer to him. This action made him finally turn his head around to look into your eyes. You spotted a few tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Even if I walk again, I will forever have those scars. And for the upcoming months you will be like my mother when she was taking care of my father…” Aegon’s voice was full of remorse.

“I do not care about those scars,” you assured him and gently wiped his tears away with your thumb. “And I shall nurture you willingly and without complaints. However, I shall never let you forget that all of this is a result of your foolish, impulsive decision!” You clenched your jaw. “Thank the wine and your hot head for the state you are currently in.”

Aegon looked down, not being able to stand your gaze anymore. He was full of shame and you took a deep breath in to calm down before leaning in and placing a soft, tender kiss upon his forehead. You loved him, after all.

“You were here… When they brought me,” he whispered. “It’s all blurry, the memory. But you were here, holding my hand…” He looked up.

“We both were, your mother and I,” you told him. “Of course, how could I… How could we not?” You smiled at him.

“Poor Sunfyre…” Aegon’s eyes filled with tears again. “He lost a wing because of me.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation. You had no idea how serious Sunfyre’s injuries were.

“I’m sure Meleys suffered worse,” you pointed out. “It is a war, Aegon, and the dragons are involved now. However, over my dead body you will go to battle again! You have already proven yourself and the Kingdom needs you alive and inside the Red Keep,” you lowered your voice. “You do not wish to be a puppet, my love? Then you have to live and be strong enough to rule.”

Aegon sighed and you caressed his hair gently. You knew that the crown upon his head was nothing but a burden to him. 

“Will you help me?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes.

His question surprised you greatly because so far, he had often asked you to stay away from the schemes of his council members and the council itself. So far, he had been relying on his mother in such matters.

Then you realised – seeing the pleading and trustful look in his eyes – that you somehow replaced her for him. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I will, darling,” you nodded. “Of course, I will. I love you,” you assured him and kissed his forehead once more. “Now rest, My King,” you kissed his nose and then lips, very carefully.

You squeezed his hand for the last time and waved at him before walking out of his chambers. You spotted the Dowager Queen Alicent pacing down the corridor and waiting for her turn to see her son.

“(Y/N),” she approached you and held your hands. “I did not want to interrupt you. Is he quite alright?” She asked.

“He is… Well, better than I expected after seeing him right after the battle,” you told her and she sighed out of relief. “You can see him now, but please, not for long, My Queen. I would rather him rest and sleep,” you explained and Queen Alicent nodded at that.

“Thank you…” She whispered and you furrowed your brows because you had a feeling she was thanking you for more than just informing her about her son’s health. “Thank you for loving him… For loving him the way I could not,” her voice broke.

And so did your heart at her words.

“My Queen, I can only pray to the Gods to be a mother as devoted as you are,” you smiled at her gently.

She wasn’t perfect and she had made mistakes she was very well aware of. However, it was not your role to torment her or judge her. Especially that you were playing on the same team and you both had the same amount of love in your heart for the man who had nearly lost his life earlier today – her son and your husband.

Queen Alicent smiled back at you but her smile was one of the sad kind.

“I shall pray to the Gods for them to bless you more than me in that matter.”

MASTERLIST

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter vi.

The man with a red umbrella notices your disappearance.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

Find consume object.

He didn’t know how something so simple and mundane had become such a demanding task. All the beings in this dimension, including himself, needed to eat. They did not need to consume much or very often—a piece of meat like the one he had just eaten was enough for him to not feel hungry for a lengthy period.

What consume object?

After he landed in one of the wreckages, he realized that he had no idea what he was looking for. His mind was void of any ideas about what human food could resemble.

Not know.

He stared at the heaps of junk piled up before him, but no matter how long he looked for, he could not find anything that seemed edible. He decided then that what humans consume may not be flesh or meat, but perhaps something else entirely. Humans did not seem to consume furnishment of any sort, because if they did, you could have just eaten the bed.

After much deliberation, he started sifting through the heaps of garbage, picking up all the objects that weren’t either furniture or building material. He made an effort to look for what appeared to be the newer and cleaner items. Despite being human, you may want fresh food, though he wasn’t sure what that entailed.

Object bring return.

Once he had his arms full, he started making his way back. Surely, at least one of the items he picked would be edible for you.

But you weren’t there.

Human gone. Human gone!

The room was completely devoid of life; not a single human in sight. He stared at the empty room in horror.

He had told you not to leave. He had warned you multiple times that it was dangerous out there. With how soft and delicate you were, you were sure to attract many residents your way. You were sure to get yourself harmed. You must be hurt right now. Even worse, you could be dead.

Human dead?

The thought of you being dead made him uneasy. He wanted you. You were his. The idea that someone else could take away what belonged to him was a troublesome one, one that made him feel something akin to fear.

He had never been afraid of anyone or anything. Though there were many other residents here, some of which enjoyed assaulting or murdering others, none of it ever impacted him. The emotion of fear was an emotion only experienced by those weaker; those like the head that the researcher took care of, or the frail humans that broke with the slightest touch.

Me not weak.

Though none of the residents cared to speak about it, they were all aware of his might. He was unequivocally the strongest, most powerful resident of their world. It only made sense; he was the first resident here. He was here before all the others had slowly fallen in, one by one.

Human weak. You weak.

But you weren’t strong like him. You were weak. Not only were you weak, you were also soft—softer than the furred eye creatures, more delicate than the garments the white-dressed woman wore, and prettier than anything he had ever seen. You were personally gifted to him by the raincoat woman, and he’ll be damned if he let anyone else have you.

My.

He needed to find you as soon as possible; the longer you were away from him, the more likely it was for you to get hurt, or worse. He couldn’t let someone else take you away from him. You were his.

Need fast find human.

He dropped the objects in the room—he could get them to you later—and sped through the corridors in search of you. However, with how vast the place was, you could be anywhere. He couldn’t help but feel frustration well up inside him again, both at you for doing something so reckless, but at himself, too, for having let this happen. He should’ve restrained you; he knew the researcher had chains for keeping the humans in place. He could’ve done the same.

Worry.

As he remembered the researcher’s existence, he felt himself tense up with worry. Perhaps the researcher had found you. The silver-haired man primarily kept to himself, so he didn’t know much about him, but he knew the humans that wandered into the researcher’s room never left.

The thought of you being taken by the researcher made a heavy, poisonous feeling swirl in his chest. At the same time, he felt some relief—if you were with the researcher, then it’d be easy to find you. He knew where the researcher’s room was. As long as he made it there before the researcher could hurt you, then his problem would be solved.

He began moving towards the researcher’s room, blinking through the spaces as fast as he could to get there.

During one of his steps, he felt the ground tremble before his feet, eliciting a sinking feeling in his stomach.

World change. Problem. Troubled.

As the world trembled and shook, he had no choice but to stand still, liquid fire coursing through his body as he cursed the situation with the only word he knew.

—

My human. Others cannot have.

Those were the words chanted in his mind as soon as the world settled into place and he was able to search for you again. He passed through walls, corridors, wastelands, even trespassed the dark, rotten seclusions of the world in order to get to you quicker. He made sure to keep an eye out for you during his travels, but you were nowhere in sight, further strengthening his belief that you were with the researcher.

Here.

Finally, he arrived at the researcher’s lair. He stepped through the wall and into the hole leading to the room the man in question dwelled in. Descending the stairs, he took each step with bated breath, hoping that he’d find you there, still in one piece.

Sound. Others here.

He couldn’t make out the words, but he heard people speaking, before the word danger rang out loud and clear in his ears.

Find you.

He entered the room. A concoction of relief and astonishment washed over him in that instance; he hadn’t expected to see you sitting across the sofa from the researcher, the head peacefully resting on your lap.

Human alive. Human alive!

Problem not here, he thought. The sight of you, alive and well, instantly dispelled all his worries. He could relax now.

“Find you,” he stated, more to himself than to you, seeing as you didn’t understand the language.

Your eyes, as mesmerizing as ever, were opened wide with horror. Your bottom lip quivered when you opened your mouth to speak. He was already puzzled by your petrified demeanour—he hadn’t done anything to frighten you—but his confusion rapidly transformed into utter astonishment when a word finally left your mouth.

“Sorry,” you murmured, in a language that was not at all foreign, not at all esoteric to him. You were speaking in his language.

His head snapped towards the researcher.

“You teach language her?” he demanded to know. The ugly feeling he was feeling before now returned in full force, coiling around his insides and dripping with venom.

“Correct,” the researcher replied. Though he couldn’t see any eyes wrapped beneath the worn bandages, he could feel the curiosity in his gaze. The researcher was regarding him with suspicion, and he could understand why. This was far from his usual behaviour—he never took an interest in humans before. The most he did with his usual gifts was consume them; he didn’t need to eat that much, but the gifts were for him. He should have them, be it through consumption or taking care of, like this one.

“Why?” He continued interrogating the other man.

“Fun,” the researcher smiled. “Me adore human.”

Angry. Troubled. Upset.

All three of the emotions that came to mind were just ever so slightly inaccurate in describing how he felt. He definitely was experiencing all of them, but there was something else, too. Something filled with toxins and aimed directly at the researcher.

Not understand. What this?

Though he didn’t interact with the other residents often, he was usually on cordial terms with them. They exchanged a few words during their infrequent meetings and greeted one another amicably. He was never hostile to the others, and they did not attack him either—not that they could, even if they so desired.

Want attack. Not know why. A lot troubled.

He hadn’t ever considered doing so before, but at this moment, he wanted to hurt the researcher. However, doing so was not only irrational but also quite troublesome. The other entity possessed significant power. Not enough to kill him, but enough for him to avoid conflict.

“Human,” his voice was rough and stern, “you cannot have.”

The researcher’s lips curved up into a grin, his face betraying his amusement.

“Why?” he inquired, his interest seemingly piqued by the change in demeanour.

“My human,” he explained. “Me keep.”

“You take care?” The researcher’s amusement dwindled into a faint surprise.

Me take care. Take care human. Take care you.

“Correct,” he confirmed.

“I see.”

The researcher did not speak after that. He merely turned his attention back to you, observing your reactions with intrigue.

With the room falling into silence, you were put in the spotlight, all attention now on you. He could notice you were breathing heavily, meekly looking at him with pleading eyes. What you wanted, he didn’t know.

“Sorry,” you whispered, even quieter than the last time you said it. “Me hungry, find consume object.”

You pointed at a box near the entrance, right next to him. He eyed it with confusion before responding to you.

“This,” he pointed to the item that did not resemble food in the slightest. “You consume?”

“Correct,” you croaked out. You coughed into your arm to clear your throat before speaking again. “Correct. Me consume.”

“I see.” You didn’t seem to understand what he said. You must have not yet learned the language in its entirety.

Problem not here, he thought. Me teach language. He would teach you the language. Not the researcher.

He looked at the silver-haired entity once again with a displeased stare, before turning to you. He reached down to take your food, holding it with one arm as he prepared to pick you up with the other.

“We leave,” he stated, waiting for you to get up and come to him. You didn’t come. He wasn’t sure if it was because you didn’t want to, or if you didn’t understand him. You stayed on the sofa, nervously cradling the head, which appeared to be stirring. He realized it would soon wake up.

“Put down him,” he instructed. He didn’t want more hassle with the head involved. This time, you followed his instructions, gently picking up the head and resting it in the researcher’s lap, careful not to rouse him from his sleep. He wanted you to touch him like that. Not the head.

After putting the head away, you curled up into a ball on the seat, looking terribly afraid of him.

Human not want come?

“Invite come,” he tried again.

“Not understand,” you answered. He was beginning to feel irritated once again; despite you knowing some of the language, it wasn’t enough. Communication was still challenging.

“Me take you,” he declared bluntly this time. Surely, you would understand this.

You most definitely did. Your expression this time was not of incomprehension, but rather the same one you wore when he first entered. Terror.

You meekly shook your head in refusal. He could see the way your chest was nervously heaving up and down, as well as the scintillating glisten of liquid in your eyes. You were close to crying.

Not understand.

Yet again, he failed to understand just what the problem was. He hadn’t hurt you. Why were you about to cry? Just what about him was so ghastly to you? He couldn’t comprehend you in the slightest.

“N-Not want,” you tripped over your own words as you tried to speak. “Want...” You paused in what appeared to be a struggle to find the right word. “Here. Want here.”

Upset.

Why? He just couldn’t understand. He just couldn’t understand why you would want to stay here when you were his. You should be with him. The rotten feeling in his viscera stirred and stirred some more, stabbing through his body and injecting a poison that corroded his veins.

Me take human. Me take you.

For some reason or another, you were afraid of him. He thought maybe you were displeased with his inability to bring you food, or perhaps you had gotten distressed being left alone for so long. It could be something else altogether, but whatever it was, he was determined to change it. He would take good care of you. Now that you learned the language to some extent, he would have a far easier time conveying his intentions to you. He would prove that you had no reason to fear him.

Me take care you.

He stepped towards you, scooping you up in one smooth motion, taking care not to drop your food in the process. You let out a sound of surprise, but made no attempt at further struggle.

He was just about to turn around when the researcher stood up.

“Her head damaged,” the researcher called out. “Need rest. Need liquid.”

“I see,” he replied as he left.

—

Fear was a strange emotion. It had a rapid onset, but was also quick to decline. Throughout your stay here, you had felt fear a multitude of times. While the feeling was the same, the circumstances varied widely.

You had been afraid of the red umbrella man upon your awakening. After you realized he presented no immediate danger, your concerns diminished slightly. You had almost calmed down a bit, fatigued from all the strong emotions coursing through you, when you asked him for food.

You were terrified when you decided to escape. Those minutes with the doorknob in your hand had been some of the most dreadful minutes of your life. Once again, your fright lessened after your safe departure.

Roaming through the myriad of corridors and rooms in this place was a petrifying existence that you never wanted to repeat. It wasn’t so bad after a while, because you had met the crawling man, who very much horrified you at first, but eventually, that discomfort settled too.

You experienced the same when you found the chopped head—whom you later discovered was a man of his own—and again with Mr. Silvair. But both he and the severed head had been astonishingly friendly. Despite your initial reservations, you found yourself warming up to them as they taught you their language.

For some time, you even forgot the grim situation you were in. The scarlet man hadn’t come for you, either, and it had been so long—you didn’t think he was chasing you anymore.

How foolish, you thought. It was a mistake on your part to have gotten so comfortable, so complacent. Because the next thing you knew, the all too familiar sensation returned, your heart freezing in your chest, your body stiffening and the temperature in the room seemingly dropping to a freezing point.

He returned, just like you should have expected. He was looking for you, just like you should have known.

However, you had your excuse ready. You hadn’t left unprepared, though now that the time had come to use it, you suddenly realized how naïve you were to think that this would be enough to spare you.

Your first apology didn’t get any response; he appeared to be more focused on the fact that you knew how to speak the language. You were at least somewhat pleased to find out that you hadn’t been instantly strangled on the spot.

As he conversed with Mr. Silvair, you silently hoped their interaction would last longer—maybe he’d even get distracted and forget about you.

It didn’t happen. Their conversation ended quickly, and all attention was back on you. Thankfully, your excuse seemed to work. He didn’t necessarily seem upset at you for leaving, which you were glad for. However, your relief was short-lived, as he soon told you to leave with him.

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to go back there, stuck in that room. You wanted to get out of this world and return to your own, and you were just about to understand the language well enough to ask about it.

You feigned ignorance, trying to pretend you didn’t understand the words. You could feel Mr. Silvair’s skeptical gaze, but he said nothing.

You weren’t sure where you got the courage from—perhaps it was because you weren’t alone with him right now—but when the red umbrella man stated bluntly his plans to take you, you tried to protest.

You could have tried fighting him too, when he picked you up, but the feeble words that left your lips were as courageous as you could get. As much as you hated it, you were far too much of a coward to truly put up a fight, in fear of upsetting the red man.

As you dangled midair, your only support being the umbrella man’s hand tightly holding you to his chest, a fleeting, ephemeral thought came to your mind. In your naivety, you wondered if perhaps your monster language instructor would step in and help you in some way or another. Nothing of the sort happened.

—

Before you knew it, you were brought back to your starting point, all the effort you made to leave now down the drain. You were placed on the bed, the box of granola next to you.

On the floor was an assortment of items—magazines, artificial flowers, a purse, a box of candies, and a few packs of beef jerky.

It appeared the red umbrella man had brought back everything that could potentially be edible, and thankfully, he had not entirely been wrong.

But that brought you to the problem at hand.

“Why?” you finally had the right words to inquire about his intentions. Maybe if you knew why he took you, you could negotiate your escape. “Why take me?”

The red umbrella man, who had kept a stoic expression for the past while, suddenly smiled. The corners of his lips tugged up in a most unnerving way, the sight alone causing you to flinch.

“You my,” he replied. “▮▮▮▮ give you me.”

You couldn’t understand the first word of his second sentence, but the rest of it was enough to explain that you were, in some way or another, given to him. You wondered if he would get angry at you for disagreeing with him. The thought made you uneasy, but you had no other choice at this point.

“Wrong,” you hesitantly explained, hoping he wouldn’t have your head for this. “Not give me you.”

“Wrong.” His smile was beginning to falter. At the sight of his changing expression, you quickly realized you were treading on thin ice. It’s probably best I stop disagreeing with him for now, you thought. “Give you me. Me ▮▮▮▮ you.”

You couldn’t comprehend one of the words used, but the sentence alone was enough for your blood to run cold.

“Not ▮▮▮▮ afraid.” He sat down on the bed next to you, a jolt of fright striking through your body. You were about to move away when he placed his hand on your cheek again, causing you to freeze in terror. “Me take care you.”

Not want, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. Instead, you simply nodded in resignation. Any attempts to disagree with him seemed futile at best, life-ending at worst.

In hindsight, you’d be able to conclude that your passiveness only exacerbated the situation.

In the present, the red umbrella man’s lips twitched, a haunting grin plastered on his face. The next words that left his lips sent your heart plummeting, the organ plunging into the murky depths of the pit that was your stomach.

“You want me.”

next chapter ->

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