#I can watch this movement for days. I HAVE watched this movement for days

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 by chappell roan 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! a day at the beach with your friends turns into a nightmare when another explicit video of you and rafe is leaked—not just to you, but to everyone on the island, including your friends. as notifications spread and shocked whispers fill the air, you’re left frozen as their betrayed stares fall on you, while rafe scrambles to figure out who’s behind it before everything spirals even further.

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: angst , potential stalker? , mature , explicit content , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 7.0k

notes: this is chapter three of my nobody gets me series. click the links below to read chapter one or two!♡

chapter one: 𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter two: 𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

“you don’t have to do this, baby,” rafe murmurs, his voice soft but resolute as he shifts the truck into park in front of the chateau. his hand remained tightly wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension. his gaze flickers toward you, his concern barely hidden behind the sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. even with them on, you can feel the weight of his worry.

you offer him a small smile, your fingers grazing over his hand that rested on your thigh in soft, soothing patterns. “yeah, i do,” you reply gently, your tone leaving no room for argument.

rafe sighs, his head falling back onto the headrest in defeat. he’d spent the entire morning trying to convince you to stay at home, wrapped in blankets, resting in bed. but, as always, your stubbornness had won out, leaving him no choice but to relent. “fine,” he mutters, the frustration in his voice giving way to reluctant acceptance.

he turns his head to look at you, his jaw tightening slightly before he speaks again. “but if anything—anything—happens, promise me you’ll call me. the meeting won’t take long, and even if it does, i’ll dip the second my phone rings, okay?”

his eyes search yours, and even behind his calm demeanor, you can sense the unease brewing in him, his protective instincts battling with his need to trust your judgment.

instead of responding, you lean in, your movement slow and deliberate, and rafe’s lips part slightly, already leaning forward to meet you halfway. just as he thinks you’re about to kiss him, you swerve at the last second, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek instead.

his breath hitches, and you pull back with a teasing smile, watching as his jaw clenches slightly. “seriously?” he mutters, his voice low, though there’s a hint of amusement behind it.

you shrug, feigning innocence. “what? thought you said you were in a rush,” you tease, your smile widening as his hand instinctively reaches out to curl around your wrist, tugging you just slightly closer.

“you’re such a brat,” he murmurs, but there’s a softness in his tone that makes your stomach flutter.

he doesn’t let your teasing slide for long. his hand moves swiftly, gently gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face back toward him. before you can react, he leans in and pulls your bottom lip between his, his teeth grazing it lightly as he sucks just enough to leave your heart racing.

“you think you’re funny, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and teasing, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes flicker to yours, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches your playful demeanor falter under his touch.

“comedian, really,” you retort, your tone playfully defiant but edged with resolve as you pull away, breaking the tension before it can swallow you whole. you know better than to linger—he has a way of blurring your thoughts, clouding your judgment, and pulling you into him without a second thought.

you lean back in your seat, putting a little distance between you, but the amused glint in his eyes tells you he’s not letting it go that easily. “you keep running, baby,” he says with a smirk, “we both know how that ends.”

you roll your eyes, shaking your head with a soft laugh, but your chest tightens at how easily he gets under your skin.

and he’s been under your skin for the last couple of days, making up for all the time you two weren’t together. it was as though once the dam broke, neither of you could hold back anymore. the night you stayed at tannyhill was your first, but it changed something.

rafe had spent hours watching you sleep peacefully beside him, the faint rise and fall of your chest grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. it was in those quiet moments, with the moonlight spilling through his window, that he realized just how much he wanted this—you. having you there, tangled in his sheets, felt too natural, too right, and the thought of waking up without you felt almost unbearable.

you, however, were still trying to wrap your head around the shift. as much as you wanted to stay guarded, rafe had a way of breaking down your walls, piece by piece, with every lingering look and whispered confession. and the longer you stayed in his orbit, the harder it was to imagine pulling away.

so here you were, parked outside of john b’s chateau, about to face the truth you’d been avoiding. it was time to find out just how hard it would be to untangle yourself from the mess you and rafe had created.

you needed to talk to sarah. if she wasn’t going to answer your calls or texts, then you’d just have to grow a pair and confront her in person. the thought made your stomach churn, but you couldn’t let it sit any longer. you couldn’t let the silence stretch on.

taking a deep breath, you glanced over at rafe, his usual confidence replaced with a quiet tension as he watched you. this wasn’t going to be easy—not for you, not for her, and especially not with him so deeply entangled in it all.

“okay, i’ll see you later,” you finally say, your voice steady despite the nerves swirling in your chest. you grip the door handle and step out before you can second-guess yourself, glancing back as rafe rolls down the window.

“do you want me to pick you up if you stay?” he calls after you, his tone casual but laced with subtle concern.

you shake your head, offering a faint smile. “no, i have to go home before my mom files a missing persons report,” you joke, trying to lighten the tension in the air.

rafe’s lips curve into a lazy smile, the kind that always makes your heart flutter no matter how hard you try to fight it. “okay, babe. call me later,” he says, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he reverses down the hill, his truck disappearing as you make your way to the porch.

your stomach twists as you pause in front of the door, bracing yourself for what’s to come. there’s no turning back now.

you suck in a sharp breath, steadying yourself before opening the screen door and stepping inside. the familiar smell of the chateau hits you instantly, along with the sight of jj and pope lounging on the couch in their swim trunks, looking as if they hadn’t moved all day.

“well, look who the cat dragged in,” jj smirks, his signature grin spreading across his face as he stands up. before you can react, he scoops you up off the ground, spinning you around as you burst into a fit of laughter, caught completely off guard.

“where have you been?” pope asks, standing to give you a hug once jj finally sets you back on your feet. “sarah said your mom had you on house arrest after what happened on the beach.” his smile is warm, the same steady presence that always makes you feel welcome here.

you laugh lightly, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “something like that,” you reply, avoiding giving too much detail as your eyes quickly scan the room, searching for sarah.

“well, you’re just in time,” jj says with a shrug, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “the swell just hit the beach. obviously, you sensed it and rushed over here to spend it with us. so, go get dressed.”

you roll your eyes, laughing softly at his logic, but before you can respond, pope sighs dramatically from the couch. “we’ve been waiting for an hour for the girls to get ready,” he groans, throwing his head back like he’s truly suffering. “please don’t make us wait another.”

“i didn’t even say i was going surfing,” you tease, earning a pointed look from jj.

“don’t even try to get out of it,” jj retorts, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “you’re here, you’re surfing. that’s the deal.”

you laugh again, shaking your head at their antics, but you can’t deny the warmth spreading in your chest at how easily they include you, like no time has passed.

it made you feel good, a small wave of relief washing over you. if jj and pope weren’t mad at you, then that must mean sarah hadn’t told them about you and rafe. the thought of their disappointed faces, their trust crumbling, had been eating away at you. the relief was fleeting but welcome.

you slipped out of the living room, making your way to the bedroom where you, sarah, and kie usually got ready together. with a soft knock on the door, you waited until you heard a muffled “come in!” before pushing it open.

kie stood in front of the body-length mirror, tying the knot of her bikini top behind her neck. her eyes widened at your reflection in the glass, and before you could say anything, she spun around, rushing over to pull you into a tight hug.

“oh my god! hi, baby,” she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief. “i was worried sick!” her arms wrapped around you like she hadn’t seen you in years, and the familiar warmth of her embrace made your chest ache.

“i’m okay,” you murmured, managing a small smile as you hugged her back. but the tension lingering in your shoulders reminded you that this wasn’t over—not yet. you still had to face sarah.

“hey, where’s sarah?” you ask softly as you and kie pull back from the hug.

“oh, she’s in the bathroom but should be—” kie begins, only to be cut off by sarah’s voice as she steps into the room.

“god, remind me not to go in there after jj,” sarah whines, fanning her hand in front of her face with an exaggerated grimace, followed by a laugh. but as her eyes meet yours, the laughter dies on her lips. her smile fades, replaced by something unreadable.

the sudden shift in her expression makes your stomach drop, and for a moment, the room feels heavier, quieter. sarah’s gaze lingers on you, her lips pressing into a thin line before she looks away, pretending to adjust the straps of her bikini.

kie glances between the two of you, sensing the tension but staying quiet, unsure of what’s going on.

“kie, you mind if i talk to sarah really quick?” you ask, your tone soft, a small smile on your lips that you hope conveys the plea you don’t say out loud.

kie hesitates for a moment, her eyes flicking between you and sarah before nodding. she grabs her sandals from the floor and heads toward the door. “yeah, of course,” she says, though her voice is uncertain. with one last glance at the two of you, she steps out, closing the door quietly behind her.

you let out a small breath, sitting on the edge of the bed, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. your eyes flicker to sarah as she moves around the room, slipping on a loose button-up over her bikini, her movements slower than usual, almost deliberate.

the silence stretches, heavy and awkward, until you finally break it. “you didn’t tell them,” you say softly, your voice careful but steady as you watch her closely.

sarah pauses for a moment, her hands stilling on the buttons of her shirt before she finally meets your gaze. there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—hurt, frustration, maybe even guilt—but she doesn’t say anything right away.

“no,” she finally croaks, her voice strained as she fidgets with the buttons of her shirt. her eyes flick away from yours, landing somewhere on the floor. “i figured one betrayal was enough.”

her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of them settling heavily in the space between you. her tone isn’t angry—it’s quiet, almost resigned—and somehow that makes it worse.

“sarah, i—” you start, but she cuts you off with a shake of her head, finally looking at you again. her expression is a mix of hurt and disappointment, and it makes your chest tighten painfully.

“why didn’t you just tell me?” she asks, her voice soft but raw. “was i really that awful to you that you thought you couldn’t?”

you stand abruptly, the sudden motion startling even yourself. shaking your head, you blurt out, “no, sarah. that’s not it at all. i—i don’t know what i was thinking.” your voice trembles slightly as you drop your head into one of your hands, trying desperately to gather your scattered thoughts.

“what happened between me and rafe was so unexpected, and…” you trail off, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i don’t know. i just thought that if i told you the moment it happened, you wouldn’t understand. and i know that you two aren’t exactly close, so i figured it would be a one-time thing and never again.”

you glance up at her, searching for some sign of understanding in her expression, but her face is unreadable. the silence stretches, making you fumble to explain further.

“but it wasn’t just one time,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “and then it just… spiraled. and i didn’t know how to tell you, sarah. i didn’t want to lose you.”

sarah crosses her arms, leaning back against the dresser, her gaze heavy on you. her lips press into a thin line as she exhales deeply, the weight of your words sinking in.

“so you lied to me,” she finally says, her tone flat but laced with hurt. “you let it spiral instead of just… telling me. you didn’t even give me a chance to try to understand.”

“i know,” you reply quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know, and i’m so sorry, sarah. i should have told you from the start. i should have trusted you.”

“yeah, you should have,” she snaps, the sharpness in her tone catching you off guard. her eyes glisten slightly, though she blinks quickly to hide it. “because now, it feels like you didn’t trust me at all. like you didn’t even think about what keeping this from me would do.”

“i was scared,” you admit, your voice breaking as you step closer to her. “scared of how you’d react, scared of what it would mean for our friendship. and i know that doesn’t excuse it, but it’s the truth. i didn’t want to hurt you.”

sarah looks away, her jaw tightening as she processes your words. after a long pause, she speaks again, her voice quieter this time. “you didn’t just keep it from me—you let it keep happening. and now there’s this… this video, and you’re the one dealing with all of that, not him.”

“we’re going to fix it,” you say, almost defensively. “he’s doing everything he can to make sure i’m okay and that it goes away.”

“of course he is,” sarah replies, meeting your eyes again. “because he’s the one who pulled you into this mess in the first place. and i know rafe—he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants. but, babe, are you sure this is what you want?”

her words hang heavy in the air, and you hesitate, unsure of how to answer. the question sinks into you like a weight.

is this what i want?

the truth swirls in your chest, complicated and tangled. you chew on your bottom lip, avoiding her gaze for a moment as you try to form the words.

“i don’t know,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know how it looks, but it’s not as simple as that. rafe… he’s not just some mistake, sarah. it’s more than that. and yeah, it’s messy and complicated, but—” you pause, meeting her gaze. “but it feels real.”

sarah exhales sharply, her arms dropping to her sides as she shakes her head. “real?” she repeats, her tone laced with disbelief. “he’s my brother. the same brother who’s lied, manipulated, and hurt everyone in his path. do you really think he’s capable of something real?”

“he’s different with me,” you say quickly, surprising yourself with the conviction in your voice. “i know he’s done terrible things. i know he’s not perfect—far from it—but he’s trying, sarah. he’s trying for me. to be better.”

sarah looks at you for a long moment, her brows furrowed as she processes your words. “i want to believe you,” she finally says, her voice soft but tinged with sadness. “but i’ve known rafe my whole life. and every time i’ve thought he could change, he’s let me down.”

“i’m not asking you to trust him,” you say carefully, stepping closer. “but I’m asking you to trust me. i wouldn’t have kept this from you if i didn’t think he was worth it.”

her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away, her shoulders slumping slightly. “it’s not just about trust,” she says after a moment. “it’s about what happens next. if you’re really serious about him, you need to be ready for everything that comes with it. his world isn’t like ours. it’s darker, messier… more dangerous.”

“i know,” you whisper, your chest tightening. “but i’m willing to face it if it means being with him.”

sarah’s gaze snaps back to yours, her expression softening ever so slightly, though the edge in her voice remains. “then you better make damn sure he feels the same way,” she says, her words heavy with both warning and care. “because if he doesn’t, this will destroy you. and as one of your best friends, of course, i’ll be there for you.”

she pauses, her jaw tightening as her voice hardens. “but i will never forgive him. not for this. not for hurting you.”

her words hit you with a mix of relief and guilt. the thought of having her support, even after everything, is comforting, but the weight of her anger toward rafe lingers. you nod slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you murmur, “thank you, sarah.”

she exhales deeply, brushing a hand through her hair before crossing her arms again. “just… be careful, okay? i mean it. rafe’s not easy to love, and he’s even harder to trust.”

“i will,” you promise softly, your heart heavy with the weight of her words. sarah offers you a small, genuine smile before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a much-needed hug. you melt into her embrace, her warmth easing some of the tension that had been sitting in your chest.

“i love you,” she says quietly, her voice soft but full of emotion as she sighs into your hair. “you know that, right?”

you nod against her shoulder, your own voice barely above a whisper. “i love you too.”

she pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, her hands still resting on your arms. “and let’s not tell everyone else just yet,” she says, her tone more serious now. “or at least not jj, pope, or john b. i just know they won’t be as understanding as me.”

a small laugh escapes you despite yourself, the thought of the boys’ reactions flashing in your mind. “yeah,” you agree softly, nodding. “they definitely won’t take it well.”

“good,” sarah mumbles, stepping back and straightening her shirt. “we’ll figure this out, okay? but for now, just… keep it between us. and rafe, i guess.” she rolls her eyes lightly, though there’s still a flicker of frustration when she says his name.

“i still can’t believe it. my brother? and here i thought you were the one with standards,” sarah teases, shuddering playfully as she shoots you a mock-disgusted look.

you laugh, reaching over to pinch her side lightly. “what can i say? john b took you first,” you retort with a smirk, your voice laced with playful flirtation.

sarah throws her head back, laughing loudly before meeting your gaze with a mischievous glint in her eye. “don’t threaten me with a good time, babe,” she quips, giving you a wink.

before you can reply, she waves toward the room. “now hurry up and get dressed. we’re going surfing, and jj and pope are gonna hang us if we take a second longer.”

“yeah, yeah,” you mumble with a grin, making your way toward your drawer to find your suit as sarah heads toward the door. you can’t help but feel a little lighter, her teasing and laughter easing some of the weight that had been pressing down on you.

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rafe sat at a dining table of the country club, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished wood as he glanced at his phone for the fifth time in the last two minutes. he opened your chat again, hoping to see the familiar bubbles of you typing a message. but when nothing appeared, he sighed heavily and locked his phone, tossing it onto the table before leaning back in his chair. his leg bounced beneath the table, a restless habit that betrayed his frustration.

this wasn’t just a casual meeting—it was an impromptu rendezvous with the private investigator who had been working with the cameron family for years. while this meeting wasn’t technically tied to cameron development, it was just as important to rafe.

his jaw clenched as he scanned the room, watching the other patrons chat and laugh over their meals, their world far removed from the storm brewing inside him. rafe wasn’t good at waiting, especially not when it came to you. his fingers twitched, tempted to call or text again, but he knew better.

instead, rafe straightened in his chair as the investigator approached, his expression unreadable but his frustration evident. as the man slid into the seat across from him, rafe leaned forward, his tone low and firm. “better have something for me for making me wait this long.”

the investigator—robert, a grizzled man—arched a brow, unimpressed. “don’t get snappy with me, kid,” he retorted coolly, leaning back in his chair. “i’m helping you out, remember?”

rafe’s jaw clenched, his patience quickly withering. he hated the way robert always talked to him like he was still a teenager under his father’s shadow. “okay, well, my girl is waiting on me,” rafe shot back, his words deliberate, “so if you please—” he motioned to the chair with an edge of attitude, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

robert let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “always in such a damn rush,” he muttered, reaching into his bag to pull out a manila folder. he slid it across the table to rafe, who snatched it up quickly, flipping it open with impatience.

inside, rafe’s expression darkened immediately. the folder was filled with pictures—pictures of you. shots of you alone, some of you and rafe together, and even photos of you with your friends at the chateau. but what made his stomach churn was the last set—pictures of you in your room, unaware, the camera angle invasive and clearly taken without your knowledge.

“what the fuck is this?” rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous as his jaw tightened. his fingers clenched the folder so hard it crinkled the edges. he glared at robert, his fury barely restrained.

“exactly what you asked for,” robert replied evenly, not flinching under rafe’s heated gaze. “surveillance of the girl and anything suspicious surrounding her. looks like someone’s been keeping a close eye on her, and not just me.”

“you mean to tell me someone’s been stalking her?” rafe asked, his voice rising slightly as his fury built. the mere thought of someone invading your privacy this way made his blood boil.

“that’s what it looks like,” robert said grimly. “the camera angles, the locations… this isn’t random, son. whoever’s doing this? they’ve been watching her for a while.”

“how the fuck did you get these?” rafe demanded, his voice sharp, barely restrained as his eyes darted over each picture again. his chest heaved with barely contained fury, his heart pounding against his ribcage as the anger coursed through him. each image was a reminder of how close someone had gotten to you without his knowledge—without his ability to stop it.

“the phone number traced to an IP address,” robert explained, his tone calm but heavy. he leaned back in his chair, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up like he was bracing for a longer conversation. “we couldn’t pull a name or anything solid. the trail leads to a burner iCloud account. whoever set this up knew what they were doing.”

“so that’s it?” rafe snapped, slamming the folder shut. “you’ve got nothing useful? just these fucking pictures?”

robert held up a hand to calm him. “relax, kid. this isn’t the end of the road. the burner iCloud account gives us something. whoever’s behind this has been sloppy enough to leave a trail. it’ll take time, but i’ll get you a name. trust me.”

“time?” rafe scoffed, his jaw clenching as he ran a hand through his hair. “i don’t have fucking time. whoever this is, they’re already too close. they’re watching her.” his voice cracked slightly, the frustration and fear breaking through his usual controlled demeanor.

“i get it,” robert said evenly, his eyes meeting rafe’s. “but rushing won’t solve this. you want answers? you need to let me do my job.”

rafe inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm raging inside him, but his hands still trembled as they gripped the edge of the table. his knuckles were white, his jaw set tight. “you better, rob,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “because if anything happens to her—i swear to god—”

“hey,” robert interjected firmly, leaning forward and holding up a hand to steady the situation. “nothing’s gonna happen, alright? you just need to pull it together. the last thing you want is for her to notice you acting weird.”

rafe’s glare didn’t soften, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios, but he listened.

“if you start acting like something’s wrong,” robert continued, his voice steady but serious, “she’s gonna suspect it. and the last thing you want to do is sit her down and tell her someone’s been stalking her. that’ll make her panic, and trust me, you don’t want that.”

rafe’s jaw ticked, his frustration evident as he forced himself to sit back in the chair. “so what— what am i supposed to do?” he asked, his voice clipped. “just sit here while some perv watches her?”

“no,” robert said calmly, folding his arms. “you let me do my job, and you stay close. keep her safe without tipping her off. if the person sees you hovering, they might back off, but you can’t blow this out of proportion—not yet.”

rafe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “fine,” he muttered. “but you better move fast, rob. i don’t care what it takes—just find them.”

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“yeah, kie!” you shout from the sand, your voice carrying over the sound of the crashing waves as you watch her ride the wave with practiced ease. a wide smile spreads across your face, the warmth of the moment settling in your chest.

you’d forgotten how much you missed this—being with your friends, laughing, cheering each other on like nothing else mattered. it felt like stepping into a time capsule, bringing back all the memories of when you were inseparable, when life felt simpler.

the sun beamed down on the beach, the smell of saltwater and sunscreen filling the air as jj and pope hollered from the water, their playful jeers aimed at kie. you laughed, shaking your head as you realized how much you needed this. for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself again.

you had been so caught up in the joy of being with your friends that you hadn’t checked your phone in hours. it sat forgotten in your beach bag, buzzing occasionally with a growing list of messages and missed calls from rafe.

meanwhile, rafe was losing it. the anxiety gnawing at him since his meeting with robert had only worsened when he arrived at the chateau and found it empty. he’d banged on the door until his knuckles ached, calling out your name, only to be met with silence.

“fuck!” rafe shouted, his frustration echoing in the stillness as he slammed his fist against the door one last time. his chest heaved, his thoughts racing.

his mind flashed to the pictures, the ones that had been taken of you without your knowledge, and his stomach twisted. the idea that you were out there, unaware of the danger, made his blood run cold. he pulled his phone from his pocket and called you again, pacing back and forth as the line rang endlessly.

“come on, baby,” he muttered under his breath, his free hand running through his hair as panic began to settle in. “pick up.”

you laid back against your towel, the warmth of the sun seeping into your skin as you basked in the peacefulness after catching one last wave. the sound of the waves crashing and your friends laughing in the distance lulled you into a calm you hadn’t felt in weeks.

but then, your phone buzzed insistently from your beach bag, pulling you out of your moment of tranquility. with a groan, you reached over, rummaging through the bag until your fingers closed around the device. flipping it over, your relaxed state evaporated in an instant.

the screen lit up with a long list of missed calls and messages from rafe. your heart began to hammer in your chest, an uneasy feeling creeping in. rafe wasn’t the type to blow up your phone unless something was seriously wrong.

you quickly unlocked it, skimming through the texts, your stomach twisting as you read them:

r <3: call me. now.

r <3: where the fuck are you?

r <3: baby please answer your phone

your pulse quickened, and your fingers hovered over the call button. whatever had him in such a state, it wasn’t good.

within the first ring, rafe answered, his voice sharp and laced with urgency. the roar of his truck speeding down the road echoed in the background, adding to the tension in his tone.

“thank god,” he breathed, though his relief was short-lived. “where are you? i’ve been trying to reach you for over two hours.”

the sheer panic in his voice made your stomach drop. “i’m at the beach,” you replied cautiously, sitting up on your towel, suddenly hyper-aware of the shift in his demeanor. “what’s going on, rafe?”

there was a pause, the sound of his engine filling the silence before he spoke again, his voice firm. “stay there. don’t move. i’m coming to get you.”

“rafe—” you began, but his sharp voice cut through before you could finish.

“stay. there,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

and then the line went dead.

you stared at your phone in confusion, your brows furrowing as the screen returned to your call log. your heart pounded in your chest, the unease from his urgency settling deep in your stomach.

“what the hell?” you muttered to yourself, lowering the phone and glancing around the beach, your mind racing with what could’ve had him in such a state. you debated calling him back, but something about the finality in his tone made you hesitate.

instead, you sat up on your knees, quickly starting to pack everything you brought with you into your bag. the unease gnawing at your chest made it impossible to sit still.

“hey, hey, hey. where you going? we’re not done here yet,” jj called out, his longboard tucked under his arm as he strolled over to where you, sarah, and kie had set up.

sarah and kie had been too engrossed in their conversation to notice your phone call, but jj’s comment caught their attention, and now all eyes were on you.

“i know, m’sorry,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual as you stuffed your towel into your bag. “my… mom just called and said she needed me home, so—” your words trailed off as you caught sarah’s eyes, giving her a pointed look that you hoped she’d understand.

jj sighed, muttering a curse under his breath as he watched you finish packing. “well, you should tell your mom to chill,” he grumbled. “i mean, you’re with us. what’s there to worry about?”

“yeah,” sarah chimed in, rolling her eyes as she lounged back on her towel. “you’re with us. it’s not like anything’s gonna happen.” there was a hint of annoyance in her tone, though you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or rafe, whom she clearly suspected was behind this.

you forced a small laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “yeah, i’ll let her know. but, you know how she gets,” you replied, trying to sound light, even as your stomach churned with nerves. you glanced at sarah again, silently pleading for her understanding. she gave you a slight nod, though her expression remained unreadable.

you said your goodbyes and made your way to the entrance of the beach, your stomach twisting with nerves as you saw rafe’s truck speeding toward you. the tires kicked up sand as he came to a hard stop, immediately cutting the engine and hopping out.

the sound of the door slamming echoed in the quiet, and he stalked toward you with quick, purposeful strides. his intense gaze was locked on you, his jaw tight and his chest heaving slightly.

when he reached you, he stopped abruptly, his hands reaching out to gently grip your arms. his touch was firm but careful, as if checking you over to make sure you were unharmed. his eyes scanned your face, then your body, before he finally exhaled a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.

“you’re okay,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, his grip on your arms tightening briefly before he released you, though his hands lingered. “you’re okay.”

“rafe? what’s going—” you began, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“you’re gonna stay with me a couple more days, okay?” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a rushing stream. “i already asked the staff to pick up some new clothes for you and to clear out some drawers so you can keep your stuff there. if you need anything else, just let me know and I’ll—”

“rafe!” you interrupted, your voice sharper than intended, overwhelmed by his sudden word vomit and the fact that he was dodging every question. you reached up, your hand cupping his face to ground him, to stop him in his tracks. he closed his eyes briefly, leaning into your touch as he exhaled heavily.

“rafe, tell me what’s happening,” you said softly, though your voice carried a tremor of worry. “you’re scaring me.”

his eyes opened, meeting yours, and for a brief moment, you saw something raw, almost vulnerable. but instead of giving you the answers you desperately wanted, he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

“just… let me handle it, okay?” he murmured, his tone low, almost pleading. “can you do that for me?”

you frowned, frustration bubbling up as his vague responses only made your anxiety worse. “rafe, i can’t keep letting you brush me off like this,” you said firmly, your voice trembling with both worry and anger. “you need to tell me what’s going on. please.”

rafe’s jaw ticks, the muscle tightening as he struggles to keep his anger in check. his patience, already worn thin, frays further when he sees the questioning look in your eyes. he steps back with an annoyed groan, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“can you just accept the fact that i’m trying to make sure you’re good?” he snaps, his tone sharper than you’ve heard in what feels like forever. “let me handle it, and i’ll tell you once it’s done.”

his words cut, and your brows furrow as a wave of hurt flashes across your face. his sudden tone—so different from the soft, protective rafe you’ve grown used to—catches you off guard.

“why are you talking to me like this?” you ask, your voice quiet but steady, the ache in your chest impossible to ignore. “i just want to know what’s going on. you’re shutting me out, rafe, and it’s not fair.”

he exhales heavily, his expression softening slightly as guilt creeps into his features, but the tension in his shoulders remains. “i’m not shutting you out,” he insists, though his tone is strained.

“i can’t just sit here and pretend everything’s fine when you’re clearly losing it.”

his eyes flicker to yours, the internal battle raging behind them clear as day, but he stays silent, his lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line. the tension stretches between you like a taut wire, and when he doesn’t speak, you let out a scoff, turning on your heel to walk away.

“where the fuck are you going?” he calls out, his voice sharp as he quickly follows after you. when you don’t answer, his frustration bubbles over, his tone rising. “get in the truck, y/n. now.”

you stop in your tracks, spinning to face him, your own frustration boiling to the surface. “are you serious right now?” you snap, glaring at him. “you think you can just bark orders at me and that I’ll do whatever you say?”

rafe runs a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching as he exhales sharply. “i’m trying to protect you,” he bites back, his voice lowering but no less intense. “just… get in the truck, okay? we can talk about this later. but right now, you need to trust me.”

you hesitate, his words lingering in the air, but the anger simmering between you doesn’t fade. “trust goes both ways, rafe,” you say firmly, turning back toward the beach path, your heart hammering in your chest.

“oh my fucking god,” you hear rafe murmur under his breath as he follows you, his steps heavy with frustration. “can you stop walking and get in the truck, or i’ll carry you,” he threatens, his voice low but serious.

you ignore him, your feet quickening as you catch sight of your friends lounging in the sand ahead. but just as you’re about to speed up, your phone vibrates in your hand, stopping you in your tracks. instinctively, you glance down at the screen.

unknown: one video attachment.

your breath catches, your blood running cold as your fingers hover over the notification. with shaky hands, you open the message and tap on the video. within seconds, your stomach drops. the phone slips from your hands and falls to the ground, the sound of the video still playing faintly.

“what the fuck?” you whisper, your voice barely audible as your mind struggles to process what you just saw.

it wasn’t just a kiss this time. it wasn’t even anything you could brush off as innocent. it was a video of you and rafe on the balcony at tannyhill—the night you stayed over. every detail was captured, from the intimate way you straddled him to the unmistakable sounds of your shared moans as he flipped you around.

“y/n?” rafe’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts as he steps closer, noticing your pale expression. his brows knit together as his eyes dart to the phone lying on the ground. “what’s wrong?”

when rafe picks up your phone and sees the screen, his face hardens, his jaw tightening as his grip on the device turns white-knuckled. his lips part, but before he can say anything, his own phone dings with a text message.

then, all at once, the unmistakable sound of notifications starts echoing across the beach. one after the other, phones light up in people’s hands. heads turn down, curious gazes scanning their screens, and then the gasps begin.

a murmur spreads like wildfire, a wave of collective shock and whispered words. your breath catches as you see the smiles on your friends’ faces fade, their eyes wide as they all receive the same notification.

you don’t need to guess. you already know what they’re watching.

tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision as your worst fear unfolds right in front of you. your friends’ gazes lift, all of them turning to look at you with expressions of disbelief, confusion, and—worst of all—betrayal.

your heart drops into your stomach, the weight of their stares suffocating. it feels like the entire world has stopped, leaving you frozen in place as the sound of the waves fades into a haunting silence.

© aerialmirrorss

taglist!: @whatrulookingat11 @ipromiseidk @rrosiitas @percysley @pinklleemonade @tincanhat @chenslucy @furiouscopshepherduniversity @vanessa-rafesgirl @amel1ee @lxvrgirl @munsoncultedits @honeyluvsatj @esquivelbianca @k3nz13a @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @fallingwallsh @landososcar @bambiangels @witchmoon10 @harrys-housewife @littlelamy @fruitcakerafe @stylesbarnesmaybankstarkeymunson @ariana2saucyy @valsmotive @folksmione @prettybabyyyy @wolfstarsimpxx @devinefem @mastylespost @drewwhore @promiscuousg1rl @uhhsoph @aesthetic-lyss @lossfairy @belledawnidk @psychiceaglepeach @yourcrackleflame @ayy1234567

[defmaybe]

Lessons in PHP

12 Days of Christmas: Day 4, December 28th, 2024

Girl’s Generation/SNSD’s Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

2k words

The clicking sounds of keyboards ring through the room. Students are doing their in-class assignments, while you’re struggling to solve the first problem on the sheet. How the fuck can your friends do this?

Fuck, this is hard. Your code repairs seem fruitless against the errors, so you raise your hand, hoping that one of the TAs will help you.

You look around, seeking for help, until you meet one of your TAs’ eyes.

Kim Taeyeon.

Fuck.

No, you’re not scared or intimidated by her, you’re just always perplexed by her otherworldly features. There are her sharp eyes, her perfectly sculpted nose, and that jawline that makes you almost drool. Every time she helps you with your code, you’re just unable to focus on the material because of the intoxicating perfume she wears. It’s as if she knows that it’s your weak point.

Taeyeon walks towards you with purpose, every step is confident. Her short skirt and tie sways with the movement. She looks straight at you, expressionless, until she reaches your desk.

“So.” Taeyeon starts the troubleshooting session. “What do we have here?”

“I–I can’t add the new values into the table, M–Miss Kim.”

She nods. “Okay, can you show it for me?”

You let the code work on itself, before typing your information into the boxes, press submit, and–

“Voila,” you mutter quietly. It doesn’t work. She seems to be amused by your attempt at cracking a joke.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

Despite her efforts, her attempts are also proven fruitless. The code just doesn’t seem to work how hard she tries, and you can feel that it’s starting to get on her nerves.

“I can just ask an AI for this, Miss Kim.”

She shoots you a surprised look. “AI? Yah! You won’t learn that way! Just–meet me after the class, alright? I’ll help you.”

“O–Okay, Miss Kim.” You’ll be late for lunch again.

—

The students are starting to leave the seats one by one, having finished their in-class assignment early. Then, there’s you, trying to fix your damn code, trying to learn. Still, it just won’t budge.

“Fuck.”

Finally, the bell rings. You pick up your laptop and walk towards Taeyeon, hoping to find some relief in her. She nods at you. 

“I’ll be there,” she says. She’s still helping Haewon with her code.

—

Taeyeon starts her debugging session. It’s particularly hard on PHP, because it won’t tell you where the mistake is. Fucking PHP.

As time goes by, you’re surprised that Taeyeon doesn’t seem to become stressed with the failed attempts. Hell, she even seems to be happier and happier, humming as she debugs the code! What is going on?

“You know, I think this is a delightful session–” she moves closer towards you. Her right arm touches yours, hands still on your keyboard “–we’re having.”

Her perfume fills your nostrils. It pervades your space violently. You’re starting to get hypnotized by it. Fuck, she smells good.

She moves in a little closer. Her hips press into yours. You can feel her body heat against your side. She types in a few letters. You hope it can finally make your code run. She reloads the page, dragging her fingers along your keyboard lazily before submitting the credentials.

“Whoops, seems like it doesn’t work~” says Taeyeon. There’s something in her voice, but back to your laptop first. Why won’t it work, and why does she sound so–

“Looks like we’re missing a few more things here.” She scoots her chair closer to you. It’s so uncomfortable, yet you don’t want to move away from her.

You’re revelling in this.

You watch as she types more letters into your screen—enter, shift, echo. She does it so elegantly, contradicting what every computer job is supposed to be.

She reloads the page again, typing in the information languidly. It’s as if she doesn’t want this to end.

It still doesn’t show up.

She shrugs, sighing at the disappointment on your screen. “Guess I’ll try again,” she says with a small smile.

You are starting to get restless. Her perfume is still invading your nostrils like crazy. You want to go to lunch so fucking bad, but you also don’t want to leave this smell of sensuality circling around her.

“Miss Kim, I–It’s fine, I’ll just–”

“No,” she commands, her voice stern. You jump slightly as she says that. “I won’t let my student go out of this room learning nothing.”

She presses into you even more. It’s starting to hurt now, yet you don’t have any intent to walk away from her, not when she smells so fucking good like this.

You hear a soft giggle from her. Is she enjoying the way she’s getting this close to you like this?

You scoot away from her a little, giving you and her some much-needed space. You can hear her sigh. Is it out of disappointment?

“Are you okay, M–Miss Kim?” you just have to ask. Can’t let your TA be uncomfortable after all.

She giggles. “Oh, I’m fine~ and please drop that name, mister,” she says with sultry. Her fingers draw an invisible line over your arm, hovering over it. Still, it makes you shiver.

“I like something more–” her hands are hovering on your shoulder now, and she’s pulling you in closer and closer, as if you’re magnetized “–intimate.”

Your breathing becomes shaky. Your hands tremble. Her scent becomes stronger and stronger as seconds go by. You’re lost in her.

“Wh–What’s more i–intimate, Miss Kim.”

She giggles, leaning in closer. Her breath touches your ear softly, and she whispers, “Call me mommy.”

You swallow hard. Being dominated by your TA isn’t exactly what you’ve been expecting today.

Her hands start to grope your pliant body. You respond to her touch strongly, sucking a sudden. She drags her hands down the front and back simultaneously, fully capturing you in her cage.

“Look at you, so–willing,” she says, letting out a giggle after. She reaches for your belt now, and she slowly unbuckles it adeptly. It comes off so easily, leaving you bare, unguarded. She then unbuttons your trousers. The edge of your boxers comes into view.

“Mommy will take your pants off, alright?” asks Taeyeon. You can only gulp and nod.

She pulls your zipper down gently, slowly revealing the tent under your boxers. Her eyes gleam, letting out a giggle.

“Ooh~ so excited for mommy, huh?”

You say nothing but a whimper. Your body quivers in unbridled anxiety, apprehensive of disappointing her. The tension is high. Taeyeon starts to grope your erection through the boxers, making your body quiver in pleasure.

She then climbs onto your lap, and your breath hitches. Your crotch makes contact with the wet spot on her panties. You can feel it. She’s wet.

She smiles and starts to grind her wetness on your crotch. She lets out a hum, clearly satisfied with her student’s reaction. You’re desperate for the friction she’s giving you. Your breathing quickens. You’re struggling to contain a moan any longer. It’s sickly sweet.

Taeyeon rests her arms on your shoulders, pulling you closer into her embrace. You’re completely captured by her—her face, her smell, all of her, and you’re revelling in the way she’s doing it.

“Y–You smell so good, mommy,” you utter, enraptured within her pungent aroma. Your mouth opens slightly, hoping to lean in for a kiss.

She chuckles. “That’s J’adore for you, baby.”

Taeyeon then parts her lips, just slightly. She leans in until her hot breath touches yours. It mingles in the air between you two, thickening with desire.

At the first touch of your lips, you feel shockwaves coursing through you. Her tongue touches yours, and you get to feel the soft flesh inside her mouth. You get a hint of strawberries remaining on her lips. Maybe she was in a rush this morning.

As you clash into each other, her tongue starts to invade your mouth recklessly, as if she’s trying to take as much of you as possible. She lets out one sweet hum after another. Her hands are still gripping onto the back of your neck. Wet sounds of the kiss ring through your ear. The sensation on your crotch remains. She’s grinding against you adeptly. She’s good at this.

The kiss deepens. Her taste of strawberries becomes too intense for you to handle, but she won’t let you go. Her hands start to glide down your willing body again, feeling your soft skin and muscles. You let out moans and moans in response.

“M–Mommy,” you rasp, muffled into the kiss. Her grinds quicken, stealing breaths out of your lungs. You are overwhelmed by the sensation of her clothed sex on you.

Her thighs tense up, her breathing quickens. She’s going to cum from grinding on your cock, fully clothed.

She unlatches herself from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva connecting you together. “Now, fuck, mommy’s going to cum, alright? Mmmm.” She bites her lip after she finishes her words, sucking in the air through her teeth. Fuck, that looks so hot.

“Y–Yes, mommy,” you reply. Your high is also coming. “I–I’m gonna cum too.”

Taeyeon giggles before grinding on your cock even faster, drawing stuttered moans out of you. Your loins tighten. You’re going to cum inside your pants!

Good thing you wear rather dark-colored pants today.

Her breathing becomes shorter and shorter. Her grip on your neck tightens. Her moans grow louder and louder. She’s cumming, and you’re all here to see it happen.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum, ahh!”

Her body spasms on top of you. Her eyes flutter. Her mouth hangs open. She screams, loud. She just came from grinding on your lap alone, and that couldn’t make you happier. She lets out a groan as her orgasm subsides, threading her fingers through your hair.

“Good boy,” she says with a smile, pressing her red, pouty lips on your forehead. That’s going to leave a mark.

The all-too-familiar feeling builds up inside your stomach. It seeps through your lower body muscles. Your feet twitch. Your thighs stiffen. It’s there. It’s there.

“M-Mommy, I’m gonna cum,” you utter. 

She smiles back at you, planting another kiss on your cheek. You’ll have to wash your face before going to lunch.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You grunt loudly. Maybe someone could’ve heard that. Your body writhes in bliss. You can feel your cock twitching inside your pants. Cum leaks out from the tip and paints the insides of your pants white. Some of it seeps out through your pants. It feels so good.

A giggle leaves Taeyeon’s lips. She’s loving the way her student breaks under her like this. “Good boy, good boy.” She runs her fingers through your hair lovingly, making you whimper a little.

Your orgasm finally fades. You pant in exhaustion after the sensual act. Your hands are still shaking. You just cum from dry humping with your TA!

“You okay?” she asks. You’re probably looking disheveled right now, all panting, chest heaving. “You look–scattered.”

“Y–Yeah, mom–uh–Miss Kim,” you stammer out. Your mind is in haywire right now. Should you still call her mommy?”

Taeyeon chuckles at your apprehension. She seems satisfied with her student being a mess like this.

“Oh, and about the code,” she suddenly says, snapping you back into reality. “We might have to make an arrangement at a later date.”

You blink, trying to connect the pieces back together. You were struggling with PHP, so you asked Miss Kim to help you with that. However, you got a dry humping session instead. The code is still unfinished.

“Y–Yeah, the code,” you respond, giving her a shy smile. “An arrangement, sure.”

“Maybe–this Saturday? I don’t have classes on that day.”

“Sure, Miss Kim.”

She gives you a smile, satisfied with your answer, before climbing off your spent body. “That settles it, then.”

You smile back at her before getting off the chair–

Fuck, you forgot to put your pants back up. Taeyeon giggles softly at your predicament.

“Oh, and–be prepared,” she says.

“Yes, Miss Kim?”

“It’s going to be a long session.”

—

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

This this this

I grew up homeschooled in a family where my parents basically had us fend for ourselves, while also discouraging us from doing any sort of activity or maintain friendships, so the vast majority of my life was spent feeling cut off and inadequate compared to my peers

Shockingly, I ended up having severe depression, (as did my siblings) and developed extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits as a young teenager, as well as other mental issues.

When I finally was able to start the process of getting help(which truly didn't start until the last few years, despite me being in therapy a decade) and started to do things outside of my usual habits, such as going to school and also getting a job(despite my parents trying to discourage me on my bad days), I was now an adult and felt like there was so much I missed out on, especially when looking at my friends experiences at the same ages.

It's so easy to dwell on those thoughts and revert back to old habits, and even harder to try and work through them(like pushing myself to get out of bed, or go to a function with friends). So many people I know who don't have depression just assume it's a little bit of laziness and sadness, and act like everything would be fixed if I just listened only to happy music and refused antidepressants because my generation is 'overmedicated'. And while we definitely are over medicated, without those medicines, so many people (myself included) wouldn't be here.

While my depression is better, and thankfully I've been pretty good with catching up on lost time academic wise, I still struggle with depression and the fallout from everything that has contributed to it. I hang out with friends but almost always end up feeling drained or depressed afterwards, even though I'm around people I care about and like, and I know they feel the same, there is always that voice in my head that one day they're going to change their minds and realize I'm not worth it or that maybe they don't actually like me.

Depression takes a huge toll on my body, I am always tired and overwhelmed, and when I am around friends and peers I feel like I'm an imposter just hoping no one catches on and questions the fact I try to mimic others behavior in hopes I blend in better (even if it's something I know to do, I suddenly feel awkward and panicked and act like I've never dealt with it before, thus watching others and trying to copy movements/actions, even if it's something I'm very knowledgeable about/good at)

I am drained because I feel I have to put on a front that everything is fine, and I feel bubbly and happy all the time, because otherwise people think I'm ungrateful/slighting them, or there out of pity(my sister is someone who thinks all of those reasons unless I'm all happy on the outside). Even though so many times, I was looking forward to doing something or spending time with someone, but for no reason I can think of, I get struck by depression when the time comes, but I still want to take part, because I worry I'll regret missing out, so I go and spend the time trying to act how people want me to, which is exhausting.

It's taken years to get used to these bad days, and I am working to let myself have a breather or just listening to what my body needs when it happens, (I've been better lately and I'm proud of that, but I still struggle occasionally). It's taken years to learn to stop comparing my life with what my younger cousin or old friend is doing/has done by my age, (or if they've done even more), slightly less to learn to ignore the timeframe society(and family) deems is 'normal', and since then, my quality of life has been better.

All this to say, depression has ruled my life and I deal with that everyday, and it is hard to ignore the sadness I feel for my young self and all she never got to do. But, I made it to 23 (something my 13yr old self never thought would happen), and even tho I didn't get to experience things on what is considered a 'normal' timeline for people my age, I have a whole lifetime of experiences to look forward to, and while my depression may be a part of those, it won't be for all of them.

You know what people don’t talk about often enough? Playing catch up in life after spending your teens or early 20s suicidally depressed. There’s so many more layers than just being able to say “I don’t want to die anymore.”

The difficulty in academia or a career after spending years thinking you wouldn’t be alive long enough for any of it to matter.

The exhaustion that comes from self awareness and self soothing, with the constant voice in your head saying “don’t go backwards.”

How lonely it is to watch the people your age starting families when you’re just barely learning what stable relationships are, and the sudden societal pressure of being “up against a clock” for these kinds of things.

The judgement from others if you change your image or interests this late in the game just because you finally figured out who you really are under the demons.

Be kind to those who are developing and blooming after years of not planning on being here long. We are living a life we absolutely didn’t think we’d have, and it’s hard enough without society reminding us there’s expectations of our age.

We didn’t get to be young; we were too busy fighting battles few know.

-

[thesecondhandwoman]

may i request caitvi kid reader play fighting with her mama vi pls?

PLAY FIGHTING

Caitlyn x Vi x kid f!reader

Synopsis: Another day of chaos started with play fighting mama Vi, but when you didn’t win, it turned into a session of comforting a fussy kiddo.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Part three of Motherly Love

The living room was a battleground, and you were determined to win. Pillows had been piled up like barricades, and blankets draped across the couch like strategic cover. You crouched behind one of your pillow fort walls, your small but mighty frame poised for action. Bunny, your ever-loyal companion, sat tucked into the pocket of your overalls, ready to observe the chaos.

Across the room, Vi stood tall, hands on her hips, a cocky grin on her face. She cracked her knuckles dramatically, her pink hair tousled and wild. “Alright, squirt. You think you can take on the champ?”

You puffed out your chest, fists on your hips in perfect imitation of her. “I’m not a squirt! I’m the Dragon Slayer, and I’m gonna win!”

Vi smirked, crouching slightly to meet your height, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh yeah? You got moves, Dragon Slayer? Let’s see ’em.”

“Vi, don’t break the furniture,” Caitlyn’s voice floated in from the kitchen, where she was sipping tea and watching the chaos unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

“Relax, cupcake. This is all under control,” Vi called back before turning her full attention to you. “Alright, kiddo. Give me your best shot.”

With a high-pitched battle cry, you launched yourself at Vi, tiny hands swiping at her in what could only be described as the most dramatic attack in history. Vi laughed, dodging and weaving like a prizefighter, her movements exaggerated to keep the game fun.

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that,” she teased, narrowly avoiding your swipes. “But you’re gonna have to do better than—”

Before she could finish, you managed to land a soft slap on her arm. Gasping, she stumbled back, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. “Oh no! The Dragon Slayer strikes again!”

You giggled, proud of yourself, while Vi dramatically collapsed onto the couch, her legs flopping over the armrest. “You got me, kid. I’m done for.”

“Victory!” you declared, climbing up onto the couch to strike a triumphant pose. Bunny peeked out of your pocket like he, too, was basking in the glory.

But just as you turned to Caitlyn to announce your win, Vi lunged, scooping you up into her arms. “Gotcha!” she laughed, tossing you lightly onto the pile of pillows.

“No fair, Mama!” you squealed, trying to scramble back up.

“All’s fair in love and play fights,” Vi quipped, pinning you gently with one hand.

“Vi, don’t gloat,” Caitlyn warned, though her tone was more amused than stern.

You squirmed and wiggled, trying to escape, but Vi’s hold was unrelenting. “Say ‘I tap out’,” she teased, grinning as she held you in place.

“Never!” you huffed, your bottom lip beginning to tremble.

At first, you didn’t even realize your frustration was building. Vi’s teasing grin, her effortless strength, and the fact that you couldn’t wiggle free all piled up until you felt the lump in your throat.

Your bottom lip wobbled, your cheeks puffing out in an attempt to hold back the flood. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, welling up in your eyes until they spilled over.

“M-Mama,” you sniffled, your voice breaking.

Vi froze instantly, her grin vanishing as panic set in. “Oh no, no, no, kiddo, don’t cry! I wasn’t— I didn’t mean— Aw, man.” She scooped you up, holding you close as you let out a wail.

Caitlyn appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowing as she crossed the room in long, quick strides. “Vi, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Vi protested, looking genuinely distressed. “We were playing, and then—” She gestured helplessly at your tear-streaked face.

Caitlyn sighed, taking you gently from Vi’s arms. “Shh, darling. It’s alright,” she cooed, cradling you against her chest. She rocked you back and forth, her soft voice and warm embrace chasing away the sting of losing. “Mama can be a little too rough sometimes, can’t she?”

You sniffled, burying your face in Caitlyn’s shoulder. “She cheated,” you mumbled, your small voice muffled.

Vi gasped, clutching her chest again, but this time with real offense. “Cheated? Kiddo, I would never!”

Caitlyn shot her a look, though her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile. “Perhaps it’s time for a rematch. With a little assistance.”

You peeked up at her, your tears slowing. “Really?”

“Really,” Caitlyn said, her eyes sparkling with a promise.

With Caitlyn holding you securely in her arms, you felt invincible. Bunny had been moved to a place of honor on the couch, watching the proceedings like the referee of a great battle.

Vi stood across the room, hands on her hips, trying not to laugh. “Alright, alright. Two against one, huh? You think that’s fair?”

“Absolutely,” Caitlyn said primly, shifting you slightly so you had a better view of Vi. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yeah!” you cheered, your confidence restored.

“Then let’s get her,” Caitlyn said, and with that, she charged.

Well, it was more of a dignified jog, but to you, it felt like a full-blown cavalry charge. You stretched your arms out toward Vi, your tiny hands aiming for her sides.

“Tickle attack!” you cried, Caitlyn guiding you as you latched onto Vi’s waist.

Vi yelped, doubling over in exaggerated defeat. “No fair, cupcake! You’re helping her cheat!”

“Consider it justice,” Caitlyn replied smoothly, her grip on you steady as you continued your assault.

Vi finally collapsed onto the pile of pillows, laughing uncontrollably as your tiny fingers poked and tickled her sides. “Alright, alright! I give up!” she wheezed, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Victory!” you shouted again, this time with Caitlyn’s support.

Caitlyn set you down gently, kneeling beside you as you climbed onto Vi’s chest, your small hands on your hips. “I win, Mama. Me and Mommy are the best team ever!”

Vi looked up at you, her smile soft and full of love despite her supposed defeat. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. Guess I’ll have to train harder if I want to beat the Dragon Slayer and her sidekick.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Sidekick?”

“Uh, I mean, team captain,” Vi corrected quickly, winking at you.

You giggled, leaning down to press a kiss to Vi’s cheek. “I still love you, Mama. Even if you’re a bad guy.”

Vi’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a bear hug. “Love you too, squirt. Even if you’re a cheater.”

“She is not,” Caitlyn said, smoothing your hair as she stood. “Now, let’s clean up this battlefield before dinner, shall we?”

By the time dinner was ready, the living room was back to normal, and the three of you sat around the table, laughing and talking like always. Bunny had been returned to his rightful place by your side, his ears slightly more crumpled than before but no worse for wear.

As Caitlyn served dessert—your favorite cookies—you couldn’t help but smile, your heart full and warm.

“Best day ever,” you declared, holding Bunny up like he agreed.

Caitlyn leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “Every day with you is the best day ever, darling.”

Vi ruffled your hair, grinning. “Yeah, even when you kick my butt.”

You giggled, leaning into their love. In your little world, there was no better place to be.

A/N: Sorry this was so short, I tried to finish it up during Christmas (hope you guys had a good Christmas btw!)

[p0orbaby]

All I Want for Christmas

summary: your daughter didn’t get the one present she really wanted

warnings: none !

a/n: thank you for the request, i hope you like it !

word count: 2.9k

-

You notice something’s off with Eliana two days after Christmas. At first, it’s subtle—an anomaly so slight it could almost be chalked up to post-holiday fatigue. Normally, mornings with Eliana are chaotic in a way that feels both exhausting and oddly necessary, as though the house depends on her noise to keep it from crumbling into silence. She bursts into the day like a firework: her small feet slapping against the wood floors, her hair a wild halo of dark curls, her voice ricocheting between pitches as she narrates her life in real time or belts out whatever song has recently embedded itself in her psyche.

Today, there’s none of that. She lingers in her pyjamas—a pair with faded unicorns that she refuses to let you throw away despite the fraying cuffs—long after breakfast. When you remind her to brush her teeth, she drags her feet, her movements lethargic in a way that feels rehearsed, like she’s trying to stretch each step into eternity. It’s the absence of urgency that unsettles you. Eliana thrives on urgency. She once cried because Alexia beat her to the front door when the postman rang.

But this morning, there’s no competition. No noise. No off-key rendition of Vampire by Olivia Rodrigo echoing from the bathroom as she “forgets” to spit out her toothpaste. You’re struck by how quiet the house feels. Not peaceful—just wrong.

By lunch, the feeling hardens into certainty. Eliana picks at her sandwich with the detached precision of someone performing a task they’ve been paid to complete. She peels the crust away slowly, meticulously, her small fingers working like a jeweller inspecting a flawed diamond. The crust sits in a neat pile beside her plate, untouched. So do the carrot sticks you’ve artfully arranged into a star shape—an attempt to disguise healthy food as something fun. Usually, she’d at least nibble on the points before declaring them “too crunchy.” Today, she doesn’t even bother with the charade.

And then there’s the Coke. You could write a thesis on Eliana’s Coke-stealing habits. How she waits, biding her time like a cat stalking prey, until you’re sufficiently distracted—mid-sentence, mid-bite, mid-thought. The moment your guard drops, she strikes: clutching the can with both hands, her face breaking into a grin so triumphant it’s impossible to be mad. You always let her have one sip, though you draw the line at more. She doesn’t push her luck; she knows where the boundary is and takes satisfaction in skirting it.

But today, the Coke sits untouched. You leave it on the table deliberately, watching her from the corner of your eye, waiting for the familiar rustle of movement. It doesn’t come. She doesn’t even glance at it.

Alexia notices it too. She’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the cutting board she insists on hand-washing because the dishwasher “ruins the wood” (a claim you’ve never verified but don’t argue against). “She’s been quiet today,” Alexia murmurs, glancing towards the living room. Her tone is casual, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

You follow her gaze. Eliana is curled up on the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on top of them. The TV plays some saccharine animated film about magical snowmen and plucky penguins—one of those films where everything sparkles unnaturally, and the characters blink too often. Normally, Eliana would be transfixed, laughing at all the wrong parts and narrating the plot aloud despite everyone already watching. But today, she’s motionless. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, as though the screen is a window to a world she can’t quite enter.

“Maybe she’s tired,” you say, though you don’t believe it. Eliana doesn’t do tired. Even as a baby, she fought sleep like it was a personal enemy, crying herself hoarse rather than admit defeat. Sleep was a battle you rarely won outright; most nights, you settled for a stalemate.

Alexia doesn’t look convinced either. She dries her hands on a dishtowel, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” she says. “This isn’t like her”

It isn’t. And that terrifies you in a way you can’t fully articulate. You watch her from the kitchen doorway, your hand resting lightly on the frame, as though bracing yourself against an invisible weight. She looks small. Fragile. The kind of fragile that makes you want to wrap her in bubble wrap and keep her from the world.

But it’s not her size that unnerves you—it’s the silence. Eliana’s silence feels like an absence, like something crucial has been taken away without your permission. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, though you don’t know what.

And that, more than anything, is what scares you.

-

You get your answer that evening, during bedtime. Eliana’s room is a testament to her devotion to pink—a monochromatic sanctuary where even the air seems tinged with a rosy hue. The walls are painted a soft blush, a decision you regretted halfway through applying the third coat but one you could never take back once she saw the finished product and declared it “princess perfect.” Her duvet cover is a riot of pastel stars, most faded from repeated wash cycles and the occasional chocolate milk spill. On her bedside table sits a lamp with a shade adorned with tiny ballerinas, their poses forever frozen mid-pirouette.

The bookshelves, crammed to the edges, are an organised chaos of her literary life. Picture books dominate the lower shelves—familiar titles with tattered spines that you could recite in your sleep (Guess How Much I Love You has practically become your mantra). Higher up, a collection of chapter books gathers dust, ambitious purchases she insisted on during a trip to the bookstore, her eyes wide with determination. She struggles with the longer words but refuses to ask for help, insisting on piecing together syllables with the kind of stubborn grit that feels both infuriating and endearing. She gets that from you.

You tuck her in with the practised efficiency of someone who has made a ritual out of bedtime. She clutches Mr Snuggles, a stuffed rabbit so battered it looks like it’s survived a war zone. He’s missing an eye, his fur matted beyond recognition, but to Eliana, he’s irreplaceable. You know this because you’ve tried to replace him—multiple times, in fact. You’ve scoured boutique toy stores, online shops, and even eBay, searching for a plush rabbit with vaguely similar dimensions. Each attempt has been met with disdain. “It’s not him,” she always says, clutching Mr Snuggles tighter as though you’d threatened to take him away permanently.

“You’ve been quiet today,” you say, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. Her hair has reached that awkward in-between length where it’s too long to leave unchecked but too short to do anything meaningful with. She hates the hairdressers, the stiff capes they drape over her, and the stylist’s endless chatter about her favourite Disney princess. You’ll have to bribe her with ice cream to get her there.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her gaze drifts upwards, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it holds the answer to some unspoken question. Her fingers tighten around Mr Snuggles, her thumb absently stroking the spot where his eye used to be. Finally, she speaks.

“Santa didn’t bring me what I wanted”

Your stomach twists in the way it does when you know something is wrong, but you can’t yet identify what. “What do you mean?” you ask, keeping your tone light. “He brought you loads of things. That dollhouse you’ve been asking for since May, the colouring set with the glitter pens—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice soft but resolute. “I wanted a sister”

You blink. “You wanted what?”

“A sister,” she repeats, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he didn’t bring me one”

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. Your brain cycles through a series of fragmented thoughts: What? When? How? You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Alexia to materialise in the doorway, her presence offering a lifeline. But the hallway is empty, save for the faint hum of the washing machine on its spin cycle. You’re on your own.

“When… when did you ask Santa for a sister?” you manage, your voice strained with the effort of keeping a straight face.

“At school,” she says matter-of-factly. “We wrote letters. Miss García said we could ask for anything we wanted”

“And you asked for a sister?”

She nods, her expression solemn in the way only a six-year-old can manage when they think they’ve been wronged.

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me? Or Mamá?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise”

You press your fingers to your temples, as if physically holding your head together will help you process what you’re hearing. A surprise. Of course. Eliana watches you with wide eyes, her expression expectant. It dawns on you that she’s waiting for an explanation.

“Well,” you begin, your words slow and deliberate, as though carefully navigating a minefield, “Santa doesn’t… bring people as presents”

“Why not?”

Because it’s illegal. Because Santa isn’t real. Because your wife and I can barely handle the one child we already have.

“Because,” you say instead, stalling, “that’s not how it works. Sisters are… different. You don’t get them from Santa”

Her brow furrows, and for a moment, she looks startlingly like Alexia—her small face drawn into a frown of concentration, as though dissecting your words for hidden meaning. “Then where do they come from?”

You pause, the weight of the question settling over you like a heavy blanket. There are a dozen ways you could answer this, most of them wildly inappropriate for a six-year-old. You settle on, “From Parents, sweetheart”

She considers this for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side. “So can you and Mamá make me one?”

The question hangs in the air, absurd and sincere in equal measure. You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh. Or cry. Or both. “It’s not that simple, Eliana”

“Why not?”

Before you can answer, Alexia appears in the doorway, her hair pulled into a loose bun, her face flushed from the effort of folding laundry. She takes one look at your face, at the strained expression and the faint sheen of panic in your eyes, and bursts out laughing.

-

Later that night, after Eliana is finally asleep, you and Alexia sit in the living room, letting the weight of the day settle over you. The room is dim except for the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, blinking lazily in alternating patterns. The air smells faintly of pine needles and the remnants of the vanilla candle Alexia lit hours ago but forgot to blow out. There’s an almost sacred stillness in the house, the kind that feels rare and precious when you have a six-year-old.

Alexia hands you a glass of wine, her fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than necessary. She sits beside you on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her and pulling a blanket over both of your laps. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie—yours, you think, judging by the way the sleeves swallow her hands—and a pair of faded joggers. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves around her face, and there’s a faint smudge of mascara beneath one eye that she hasn’t bothered to wipe off.

She looks tired but beautiful, the kind of beauty that feels effortless and intimate, like a secret only you’re privy to. It makes your chest ache in a way you don’t entirely understand.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “our daughter asked Santa for a sister”

You exhale, shaking your head as you take a sip of wine. It’s red, something bold and expensive that Alexia brought home last week. She has a knack for choosing good wine, even though she always claims it’s pure luck. “She did”

“And she’s heartbroken Santa didn’t deliver,” Alexia adds, her tone half-amused, half-disbelieving.

“She is,” you say, setting your glass on the coffee table. The table itself is covered in the detritus of Christmas: an abandoned roll of wrapping paper, a pair of scissors, and the instructions for the dollhouse you spent three hours assembling on Christmas Eve while Alexia supervised with a glass of champagne in hand.

Alexia leans back, stretching her legs across your lap. Her socked feet are warm against your thigh, and she wiggles her toes absently as she looks at you. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice light, as if she’s testing the waters.

“About Eliana asking for a sister?”

“No,” she says, her lips twitching into a small smile. “About giving her one”

You laugh, a short, sharp sound that feels more defensive than amused. “You can’t be serious”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” you repeat, incredulous. “Because we barely survived the first time around. Do you not remember the colic? The sleepless nights? The time she screamed for three hours straight because she didn’t like the colour of her bib?”

Alexia tilts her head, as if genuinely considering your words. “She was a baby. That’s what babies do”

“Exactly. And you want to do it all over again?”

Her smile widens, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes now. “Maybe”

You groan, leaning your head back against the sofa. “You’re insane”

“I’m not,” she insists, nudging your thigh with her foot. “Think about it. Eliana’s older now. She’s more independent. She’s in school most of the day. We’re not in the trenches anymore”

“The trenches,” you mutter, reaching for your wine again.

Alexia shifts closer, her foot still resting against your thigh. “I loved it, you know. All of it. Even the hard parts”

“You loved it?”

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I loved being a mum to a newborn. Watching her grow, seeing all the little things she learned every day. It was… magical”

You glance at her, and the soft, wistful expression on her face makes something inside you twist.

“And you,” she continues, her voice lowering slightly, “you were amazing”

“Alexia,” you say, a hint of warning in your tone.

“I’m serious,” she says, her hand finding yours beneath the blanket. Her fingers are warm, her grip gentle but insistent. “You were. You still are. And when you were pregnant…”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

She grins, her teeth catching the light. “You were insatiable”

“Oh, for God’s sake”

“It’s true,” she says, laughing now. “I could barely keep up with you”

“You managed,” you mutter, taking another sip of wine.

Her laughter fades into a softer, more thoughtful smile. “I’m just saying,” she says, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again”

You study her, trying to discern if she’s really serious or just testing the waters. But there’s something in her eyes, a quiet certainty that unnerves you.

“You really want another baby,” you say, not quite a question.

She nods. “I do”

“And when were you planning on telling me this?”

She shrugs, looking faintly sheepish. “I don’t know. I guess I was waiting for the right moment”

“Like now? After our daughter guilt-tripped us with her Santa request?”

Alexia laughs, and the sound is warm and infectious. “Exactly”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable”

“I’m practical,” she counters. “Think about it. We can afford it. We have the space. The time. A great support system. Mami would love to help us out again”

You raise an eyebrow. “You want to tell her we’re thinking about having another baby? You know she’ll start knitting booties the second the words leave your mouth”

Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “Let her. Eliana would love matching booties for her and her sibling”

The image of Eliana holding a tiny, wriggling baby flashes in your mind, unbidden. It’s too cute, too perfect, and you push it away before it can take root.

“It’s not just about logistics,” you say quietly.

“I know,” Alexia says, her voice softening. “But we’ve done this before. We know what to expect now. And we’re not the same people we were back then. We’re stronger. Better”

You glance at her, at the quiet confidence in her expression, and feel a pang of guilt for doubting her. She’s right, of course. You’ve come so far since those early days with Eliana. But still, the thought of starting over feels overwhelming.

“I don’t know,” you say finally. “It’s a lot to think about”

Alexia nods, her thumb still tracing slow circles on the back of your hand. “I’m not asking for a decision tonight. Just… think about it”

You nod, letting your head rest against her shoulder. The wineglass dangles from your fingers, forgotten. The weight of her hand on yours, the steady rise and fall of her breath, grounds you.

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Then Alexia speaks again, her voice so soft you almost don’t hear her.

“She’d be a great big sister,” she says. “Don’t you think?”

You close your eyes, letting the words settle over you. In your mind’s eye, you see Eliana again, her wide, hopeful eyes as she clutched Mr Snuggles to her chest. You see her laughing, running through the park with a smaller version of herself trailing behind her.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “She would”

[skzdreamer13]

AHHHHHHHHHHH I love HYUNJINS new haircut!!! AHHHHHH

okay….hear me out…..

Can you pls write a Hyunjin fic of him getting his new haircut without the reader knowing? And she ends up LOVING IT…. And then like snuggling at the end…

only if you have time ofc or if you want to 😍😍

Love this

Give me love

Oh my god yes lol I've been looking for an excuse all day to write about kiwi Hyunjin!

This turned out a bit angsty but it's still very cute and I hope you enjoy! 🖤

Idol!Hyunjin x Reader

Info ~ Angst, reassurance, insecurities, cuddling

Hyunjin has been nervous all day. He pretty much lied to you this morning about what he'd be doing today and he felt guilty. It was eating him up.

But he also didn't know how to tell you that the hair you love to run your fingers through, braid, tie up, and play with would be gone when he came home later. You always told him you love him no matter what and that you always find him beautiful and attractive. Yet it's eating him up that, this decision he's making might change your mind.

But he needs a drastic change. His hair has been long for too long and it was starting to become obnoxious. Was this an extreme change? Yes, absolutely! But it's what he needs and he knows it, he just hopes you understand and still love him despite it.

~

You're sitting on the couch when you hear the creak of the entryway door. Hyunjin said he was going to the dance studio to practice, but it's only been about two hours, too soon for him to be back. Normally he'd be gone for anywhere from 4 or more hours. Maybe he forgot something.

Standing up from the couch, you're wrapped in a blanket as you walk down the hallway to meet your boyfriend.

"Did you forget-" your words die on your tounge. You look up as he pulls his hat off.

Gone. His hair is gone. For a moment you're conflicted sad that it's gone and simultaneously utterly intranced by his beauty with said new hair style. The way his face takes more of a spotlight, his nose line sharp, cheeks full and flush from the cold air. His eyes borderline cat like. Though his eyebrows are sharp they are furrowed waiting for you to say something, anything.

He looks like he's holding his breath his shoulders up and tense, his back perfectly straight in his puffy coat. His chest rising and falling in short sharp breathes, like your next words could make or break him.

You step closer and you watch his body tense at your movement. Closing the space between you two, you place your hands on his strong jaw line and his eyes go slightly wide. You rub your thumb on his cheeks, the stubble from his face that he didn't shave this morning scratchy against your fingers.

"Jinnie you cut your hair! It's beautiful! You didn't have to lie to me." Your voice is excited and bright but soft and sincere seeing the panick in his eyes. Your words and touch ease him and all his emotions flood as tears well up and flood his eyes.

He can't stop it as a chocked sob racks his body and he hunches over to rest his head in the crook of your neck on your shoulder. You hold him tight and wrap your arms around his large frame. Your hands rubbing up and down his back as he cries. Sweet soft words leave your lips to sooth him as he lets the relief wash over him.

He had no reason to be afraid, he knows something as trivial as a hair cut won't make or break your love for him. But the betrayal of his fans last time he cuz his hair, the awful things they said about him. How many of them abandoned him over it? How many people reduced him down to his looks? He couldn't take a blow like that from you. It breaks your heart to see him this distraught about something as trivial as a haircut.

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Hyunjin says, his voice pouty and soft as he lifts his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere silly." You say and pull away from him to look into his beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. He is still in his puffy outside coat.

You place your hands on either side of his face again, bringing his forehead down to yours. You wipe stray tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he takes a deep breath collecting himself.

You help him take off his jacket and place it on a chair as you grab his hand and guide him, slightly dragging him as he follows you slowly, into the living room.

He sits on the couch and you sit beside him, draping your legs overs his so you're almost sitting in his lap but not quite. Now that you're in the light of the house you get a good look at him realizing not only did he shave his head but he's bleached it blonde!

"Jinnie, I need you to know I'm in love with your new hair!" You say excitedly, over enthusiastic as to try and perk up his mood. You want him to feel confident and happy in his decision. He should, he looks amazing.

A small smile plays on his lips as you bring your hands up to run it across his round head. His hair is soft yet prickly. It's such a fun texture, you could run your hands across it all day.

"I don't know why I was so scared." His voice is regaining its full bodied sound slowly and your satisfied that you've convinced him of how much you love this new look on him.

"I don't know why you were either." You curl up into his chest, legs still draped over his as you listen to his rapid heartbeat begin to relax.

"You know im going to be touching your head nonstop now, right?" You say and he chuckles.

"I had a feeling."

Masterlist

Request ~ Open

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@intrikatie @zennnnny @hannamoon143 @crustless-toast @velvetmoonlght @turtledove824 @skzlover24

[multipleoccupancy]

He sensed their topic was helping her too and so Theo was comfortable in staying with it for the time being. Not realising the path he was sending Samantha down as she started to express her thoughts. She started talking about how she had been recruited and Theo paused to watch her, silent and still, worried that a single movement or too loud a breath might startle her from speaking. She never mentioned it and he later learned that it was not something that should be asked or really revealed to others.

Her story sounded harrowing though! She was almost sacrificed to hybrids? He might have never known her, she could had died and he'd have been none the wiser. He caught that disguised sob, he knew her too well now and stopped what he was doing with the net to cross the space between them and pull Samantha into a tight and protective hug.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, but I am so glad you made it out of there." He was sure to say very clearly but there was a short and quiet rasp to his voice as he was sure to hold back his tears and his horror. "We can help this guy, we'll do all we can. It's going to be ok and we'll make sure this never happens to anyone else again." He promised, or at least thought he could without the sense to remember that there was a big wide world out there with cultists lurking and waiting.

Unaware he was doing very little to settle Violet's nerves around his counterpart, Sloane kept up the act comfortably, smiling politely to the man as Violet thanked him too and then to her, still so tired and polite as she gave her own response. Oh she was very good! He'd have to tell her when they got out of ear shot!

The man returned with the key to the dorm and Sloane's ID card. "Here you go Professor Parry, Miss Parry," he said as kindly as he could, clearly trying to do his best to seem professional in the moment. In truth, Sloane thought they now had the perfect set up for him to leave unannounced in a few days, of course he would have to look after dear cold and tired little Astrid.

"Ah! Thank you," Sloane was quick to say but he took the key and card calm and polite, "You hold onto the key for me?" He offered to Violet, holding out the little door key for her to take. "Don't lose it now, be sure to hold on tight to it," he encouraged as perhaps a tired father might, not quite able to see his daughter as fifteen yet, still young and in need of encouragement. "I'll just put this back in here," he explained as he pretended to fumble around with his wallet again to put the card back in, seemingly getting frustrated and jamming it in half way before closing the wallet again.

"You've been our saviour tonight," Sloane praised the man, putting his hand back on Violet's shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell Stacey how helpful you've been, I can't thank you enough." He even let a little bit of tears flood his eyelashes without actually letting them fall. "What a nice man," he told Violet with a small smile, "let's get you set up in the room and settled in, we can take the sleeping bag from my car, it'll be like when we used to go camping, just without the mosquitoes," He gave a tired laugh and started to head back towards the door to leave. Thrilled with their performance.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Focusing on a possible solution helped Samantha, too. It kept her mind away from the plan, from her being bait. "Yes, you're right. It was probably a ritual or something of the sort. Maybe we can force him to do the reverse ritual if there's one." Oh, right. Violet had seen a woman turned into a monster. "Maybe he's hiding a monster somewhere, yes. Or maybe he's using some monster poison? Injecting it in the student's veins?"

She paused, her fingers resting on the rope. "I don't know if it works the same way, but... I saw things. Similar things. It's how I got recruited. I don't talk about it because..." Samantha looked down at the net. "It was horrible. Someone died." Her lip quivered. "It was a fertility clinic. They were making... hybrids? I don't really know. Half-monsters, half-babies. I worked there as an intern, and I had no idea this was happening. I thought it was a normal clinic. But one day, they tried to sacrifice me and another intern. They wanted to feed us to the monsters. I managed to escape, but..." The other intern was not so lucky. "I couldn't save him."

Samantha disguised a sob behind an awkward cough. "There was no turning them back, these creatures. They had never been fully human in the first place, anyway."

Violet was really very impressed by Sloane, how easily he played his part. But it was a little bit scary, too. Like with the flick of a switch, he had turned into a single dad, worried about his daughter. No wonder she always got tricked by the Sloane she knew. He didn't just disguise himself, he transformed himself.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered just as low when he offered her his lunchbox. He was expertly making their situation seem even more heartbreaking to the man behind the desk. And it worked, too, because here he was, offering them a room -the room Sloane told her would be ideal.

This little charade reminded her of how much she missed her dad and her home in New York. When her eyes got just a little bit shinier, she wasn't playing. She did feel like crying.

"Thank you so much, sir," she was sure to say with a grateful smile. And when he disappeared into the office and Sloane suggested they get McDonald's the next day, she followed his example and continued with her own part -the tired daughter. "Really? I'd like that a lot," she replied, careful not to sound too excited -this was supposed to be a consolation prize after all.

[sosa2imagines]

Hii, Dad Bucky ask🫶🏼

What would he do with a few months old twins or triplets? And maybe it was mother's day so he wanted to make something really special for reader as it was her first🫶🏼

Hi, thank you so much for this lovely ask. Bucky would absolutely make sure to make Mother's day very special.

Warning- Pure fluff.

The first rays of dawn were peeking through the curtains when Bucky woke up. He turned his head to look at you, still sound asleep, a peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, he stayed still, memorizing the sight.

Today was special. It was your first Mother’s Day, and Bucky was determined to make it perfect.

Bucky slowly sat up, being careful not to wake you up, and smiled to himself, thinking about today and how it would all go. He softly stroked your hair before slowly climbing out of bed, making sure the comforter was wrapped tightly around you and wouldn't wake you up. He quietly walked out of the bedroom, closing the door to make sure that his movements wouldn't wake you up.

The real challenge, however, lay in the next room.

Samuel Steven Barnes and Natalia Anthony Barnes, your beautiful twins, were already awake and babbling in their cribs. Bucky smiled, running a hand through his hair as he prepared for battle. “Alright munchkins...” he whispered. “Let’s do this for Mommy.”

Dressing the twins was no small feat. By the time Samuel squirmed out of his onesie for the third time and Natalia decided to try her best impression of a gymnast, Bucky was sweating. But he persevered, and finally, both babies were dressed in matching outfits that read ‘World’s Best Mom.’

“Mission accomplished!” he muttered, placing them gently in their bouncy seats. “Now for phase two.”

Breakfast wasn’t exactly his forte, Bucky was grateful for the help from Steve, who had dropped off your favorite dishes from a local breakfast diner. Steve also had given Bucky an apron with the slogan, ‘World’s Best Dad, give Me a Kiss, Mom!’ on it. Bucky laughed as he tied the apron, appreciating Steve's humor, and thinking about how you would appreciate the gesture too.

When everything was ready, he returned to your shared bedroom with the twins in his arms. “Doll…” he called softly. “Wake up.”

You stirred, blinking your eyes open to find Bucky standing there, a baby in each arm and a sheepish smile on his face. Your gaze shifted to the twins’ outfits, and tears welled up as you read the words. “Oh, Bucky…”

“They insisted on dressing up for you,” he said with a grin, carefully handing Samuel to you while Natalia remained cradled in his metal arm.

You kissed each twin on the forehead, your heart swelling with love. “You did all this?”

“Of course!” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “But we’re just getting started.”

He led you to the kitchen, where breakfast was waiting. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit. You raised an eyebrow, and Bucky gave you a sheepish smile.

“Fine, I didn’t make it. But I did make the coffee!” He gestured to the steaming mug sitting on the table, pride evident in his tone.

It was no secret that learning how to use the coffee machine had been a two-month ordeal. You took a sip, smiling up at him. “It’s perfect.”

After breakfast, he handed you a piece of paper. It had the twins’ tiny handprints in bright colors, alongside a handwritten note:

Doll, I know this journey hasn’t always been easy, but you’ve faced every challenge with care, kindness, strength, and so much love. Watching you with our kids has shown me what it truly means to have a family. Thank you for everything you do, for them, for me, for us. I love you more than words can say. —Yours always, Bucky

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you hugged him tightly. “You’re incredible.”

You couldn’t stop admiring the tiny, colorful handprints on the card. You traced the edges of the prints with your fingers, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at Bucky.

“Okay,” you said, looking at him with a curious smile. “How on earth did you get the twins to do this? I know they don’t sit still for more than two seconds.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “It… uh… wasn’t exactly easy, doll.” He leaned back in his chair, the memory of the ordeal making him chuckle.

“First, I had to find non-toxic paint that they wouldn’t try to eat. That took me, like, a solid hour. I kept hearing Sam’s voice in my head lecturing me about safety.” he added with a smirk. “Then I thought, ‘How hard could it be?’”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Famous last words.”

“Exactly.” He shook his head. “I spread out an old sheet in the living room and put them in their high chairs. I figured it would contain the chaos.”

“And?”

“And I was wrong.” he admitted, rolling his eyes at himself. “Sammy decided paint was better on his face than the paper. I turned around for one second, and he had a red handprint right in the middle of his forehead. Talia, on the other hand…” He paused, groaning. “She somehow managed to grab the paint cup and fling it across the room. The wall might still have a little blue on it.”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “Oh my god, Bucky!”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” he said with a mock glare, though his lips twitched in amusement. “By the time I wrestled the paint cup away from her, Sammy was clapping his hands together and splattering paint everywhere. I looked like I’d just come back from an art war zone.”

“Please tell me you took pictures?” you teased, wiping away tears of laughter.

“Absolutely not!” he deadpanned. “I was too busy trying to keep them from eating the paint or smearing it in each other’s hair. But eventually, I got them to cooperate. I held Sammy’s hand over the paper and pressed it down while humming to him and he loves that, you know.”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the thought of Bucky patiently singing to your son.

“And Talia…” He shook his head fondly. “That little troublemaker fought me the whole time. She kept trying to grab the paper instead of pressing her hand down. I think she was offended I wasn’t letting her ‘help.’”

You laughed again, picturing your strong-willed daughter glaring at Bucky with her tiny fists covered in paint.

“But after a lot of trial and error…” he continued, “and a lot of cleaning up, I finally got it done. I think I scrubbed paint off my arm for a full hour last night.”

You reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, your smile softening. “You went through all that just to make me feel special?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice tender. “You’re the best mom in the world, doll. You deserve it.”

Tears filled your eyes again as you leaned in to kiss him, your heart full of love for the man who’d gone to such lengths to celebrate you. “Thank you, Bucky. For everything.”

“Anything for you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And, uh, by the way…”

“What?” you asked looking at him.

“There’s one more thing,” he said, pulling out a small box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace, the locket engraved with his and the twins’ initials.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you admired the thoughtful gift. “Bucky…”

“Happy Mother’s Day, doll,” he murmured, wiping away your tears before kissing you gently.

You spent the rest of the day in a blissful haze, playing with the twins, laughing with Bucky, and feeling more loved than ever. It was a day you would never forget, a perfect celebration of the family you’d built together.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

[dimlylittorch]

this started off as a hurt comfort fic but i changed my mind and it turned into.. manipulation. i am unwell. THIS SHIT IS LIKE 3K+ WORDS BE WARNED.

My Masterlist🌱

Silco x transmasc!reader

small synopsis: he finds the son of an aristocrat in Piltover to be his pawn

He’ll never forget that day. That day on the bridge, when his entire world changed. Ever since then, there’s been a pit inside of his stomach. It churns and twists whenever something that is his is in danger. When something of his is out of his reach.

Grief is a funny thing. It can invoke every kind of human emotion. Anger, sadness.. it tears a person up inside. Leaving scars that will never heal completely. Yes, they fade with time. But sometimes they fester. And wounds get reopened- bringing every single old emotion back in one fell swoop.

Meeting you changed everything he thought he knew. When he thought he’d finally found himself on stable ground, you pulled the world out from under his feet. His heart had grown cold, and he found himself incapable of.. feeling. Feeling anything other than rage, or hate. He had no pity for the weak. Not anymore.

Until he found you.

The day he met you was the day he felt like maybe- just maybe, he could breathe again. A pretty little thing you were. Coming from a good family in Piltover, you were clean and well taken care of, nothing like the people in the Undercity. You were innocent, and completely unaware of the dangers that lied in the Undercity among people like him.

Having packed a small bag, fully intending on exploring some more of the world that your parents kept you so sheltered from, you managed to find yourself near an entrance into the Undercity without even knowing it. Walking through damp alleyways and past the docks, slipping on the occasional patch of worn wood. You had no idea how dangerous it was for you to be out there in the dark.. let alone by yourself.

You found yourself stumbling across run down buildings with holes in the ceiling and ruined infrastructures. One warehouse in particular caught your eye as it seemed relatively stable. You peeked inside through the front entrance before opening the door, it creaking loudly. You take a few steps inside, glancing around at how different it was from the buildings you’d seen your whole life.

“Wow” you whisper to yourself when you look up, a clear view of the moon through one of the holes in the ceiling. Of course, you had no idea Silco was using this place for his own purposes. And you had no idea he was near. Walking through the main area of the building, a small smile creeps along your lips. “Hello!” You call out, hearing a faint echo back, much to your amusement. Silco stood in a dark doorway with his eyes on you, his eye brow quirked with interest. When was the last time he’d heard someone truly laugh?

As you make your way up the large staircase, Silco moves to quietly follow you, curious of your movements. He’d never seen you before.. and you certainly didn’t look like you were from the Undercity. Tripping over debris every now and then, Silco can see the lightness in your movements. You weren’t wary or cautious. Simply exploring like a child would. Once you reach the next floor you see the remnants of old furniture, crouching down and looking at what he would consider trash. He watches with curiosity as you pick up a small item you see on the floor, smiling to yourself as you slip it into your pocket.

Making your way through the run down building, you find a rickety staircase that leads onto the roof. Stepping onto it hesitantly, Silco stays back and watches as you flinch when it creaks and shakes under your weight. Standing still for a moment, you take a breath before heading up the stairs and reaching the roof. Silco hums with amusement as he watches your actions, deciding he might as well follow. He found you intriguing after all. As you settle onto the roof, setting your bag down he slowly follows. But when he hears a sharp creak in the metal, a gasp slips past his lips as he reaches for the roof, the rusted metal staircase starting to collapse.

He saw his life before his eyes- as much as he hated to admit it. The thought of dying to a staircase was embarrassing for a man like him. As he clawed at the wood of the roof, he suddenly felt two hands on one of his arms, and he looked up to see you. The soft face looking back at him, faced riddled with worry.

“Shit- hold on” you say quickly as you tug on him as hard as you can, moving onto your stomach so you can hook your arms under his shoulders, getting a better grip. With a gasp from your lips, he holds onto you out of instinct as he kicks his foot up, using it to push the both of you onto the roof.

When he manages to get onto the roof completely, you roll onto your back, pulling him with you. The both of you breathing heavily, he finds himself in your arms, still holding him. “You okay?” You say softly against his ear before you gently remove your arms from his upper body, leaving him to sit straddled over your hips.

He puts a hand next to your head, using it to sit himself up with a shaky breath as he looks down at you, faces only inches apart. “Fine.” He mutters before he sits himself up further, resting against your hips and thighs. You sit yourself up slightly, hands resting by his knees as you gaze up at him.

“You sure?” You ask softly as your eyes trail over his face, not once flinching from his scars. He looks back at you with a hesitant glance, not used to anyone caring about his wellbeing.

He huffs and moves off of your lap, sitting next to you with a sigh. “I’ve faced worse” he murmurs as he slicks his hair back with his hand.

Sitting up fully, you gently scoot over to be closer to him. You glance over his form, taking in his presence. Fairly tall and slender, but still.. solid. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You say faintly, much to his surprise. He looks over at you, harsh eyes trailing over your form.

“You’re an odd little thing.” He mutters as he looks you over. “And just what were you coming up here for? The scenic view?” He scoffs.

“I’ve just.. never been up here before” you say softly.

“And you got curious?” He muses as he runs his fingers through his hair before standing up and adjusting his not ruffled clothing.

“Mhm” you hum as you stand up with him. Before you can say anything else, a rotted piece of wood breaks under your feet, making you trip forward, grabbing onto him for balance. The force knocks him backwards, making him land on his arse with a huff, you landing on your stomach in his hold. “Christ-“ you gasp when you hit his form and the wood. Gathering yourself for a moment, you look up and meet his sharp gaze. “We have to stop falling into each other like this” you huff with a faint laugh as you sit up slightly, but still leaning over him as you catch your breath.

He sighs when he looks down at you, seeing just how.. soft you truly are. Gentle eyes and a kind smile.. nothing like what he was used to. As you look up at him, your smile widens slightly.

“Hm.. do you have heterochromia? Where your eyes are two different colors?” You question innocently as you sit back and look at him. “They’re really pretty”

He freezes when he hears your words. Pretty. Pretty? Has he ever been called pretty? No. That’s something he would remember. If half of his face wasn’t so scarred it would probably be apparent that he was blushing slightly. Glancing over your facial features, he can’t help but find you amusing. You clearly didn’t know who he was.

“Something like that.” He replies quietly before looking downcast. If only he didn’t have a massive story behind his face. Maybe things would be easier.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a small brown paper bag and offer it to him. “Are you from the Undercity?” You ask softly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Piltover before..”

His eyebrows raise when you offer him the small paper bag, but he begrudgingly takes it, opening it and finding.. cookies. Homemade cookies. He pauses as he thinks about what he’s doing. Sitting on a roof with some topsider idiot trying to make conversation. He should be working towards his dream of Zaun right now. But.. a part of him wanted to stay put. He hated to admit it. But he’s missed being treated like a normal person. And not like a crime lord. Grabbing a cookie with a sigh, he sets the bag down and looks over at you. “Yes, I am. It’s clear you’re from topside..” he mutters as he takes a bite of the cookie.

A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips when you see him take the cookie and take a bite. “My mom made those” you say softly. “Do you like them?”

He huffs a little when he hears you mention your mother. God, how old were you? You seemed in your twenties, maybe.. but there was an innocence about you. The world hadn’t ruined you. Not yet. “It’s.. fine.” He says quietly as he eats the rest of the cookie. He had to stay stoic like always- but in reality he couldn’t remember the last time he had something sweet. It was.. nice. Almost too nice. Sweet enough to give him a toothache. “My compliments to your mother.” He adds faintly.

Your smile widens a bit and you chuckle. “I’ll tell her you said that.” You look at the bag for a moment before gently pushing it towards him. “If you have any friends you want to share with- you can have them. I can always get more.”

God, how innocent could you get? Friends? Him having friends? He almost laughed at the thought. “You truly have no idea who I am?” He questions as he looks up, his gaze meeting your own.

When his eyes meet your own, your heart stutters a little. His gaze was sharp and piercing, nothing like you were used to. In Piltover it was all ‘make sure you maintain polite eye contact- staring is rude,’ but he clearly didn’t follow any stupid rules like you had to. “I’m sorry” you murmur, looking downcast before you look back up at him and offer him your hand. “I suppose I should’ve asked sooner. I’ve been terribly rude.” You could practically feel your mothers words flowing through you- ever forced polite response you ever had to give, rushing back on autopilot. “I’m Y/N, of house L/N.”

His eyebrow quirks when he sees how.. formal you are. He stares at your hand for a moment before sighing and shaking your hand. “Silco.” He says simply before retracting his hand. “And just what does your family do? You seem awfully.. well trained.”

You could help but snort at his words. Well trained? That was a new one. But in reality, it made sense. To society you were nothing more than a dog that knows how to behave. “We’re in the mining industry.” You say with a small smile. “My father manufactures a lot of the machinery that the miners use.”

He hums when he hears your words. Mining? He knew quite a lot about that. Having worked in the mines in his youth.. it’s not something he would go back to willingly. “I take it you don’t work in the mines.” He muses.

“Afraid not.” You hum. “I was attending University.. but I needed a break.”

He scoffs at that, rolling his eyes before he moves to stand up. “There is no time for breaks if you truly wish to accomplish something.” He chastises. “Surely your father has taught you that.”

“I’ve learned not to push myself.” You murmur as you lay back on the roof, gazing up at the sky.

“We aren’t alive just to lie around and relax.” He scoffs as he moves to crouch next to you, his knee by your head as he looks down at you. “You think I got to where I am by taking breaks? By not pushing myself?”

A few moments of silence pass before you sit up, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his. “And yet.. I don’t even know who you are.”

Before you know it, you feel his hand on your chin, squeezing your cheeks slightly as he lifts your face closer to his. “I’ll have you know, boy.” He whispers dangerously. “I control the Undercity. And everyone in it. So choose your next words wisely.” He seethes as he glares down at you.

A few more beats of quiet- the only noise the occasional creaking of the roof. He watches as your eyes soften, face becoming more relaxed in his hold. Anyone else would’ve been terrified.. but here you were. Gazing up at him.

“Would you like to come home for dinner tomorrow night?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Pardon?” He questions as he lets go of your face, but not pulling away.

You reach up to rub your chin a little, looking up at him. “Well.. you’re in charge of the Undercity.” You say softly. “And tomorrow we’re hosting a dinner party with other important people.” You murmur. “Would you want to come?”

He stares down at you for a few moments, the cogs turning in his brain. What was this boy’s agenda? He didn’t even know him. But.. the thought appealed to him. Slightly. Being invited to a dinner party in Piltover that is filled with rich bureaucrats, your parents certainly not approving of your choice for a plus one.

“What.. a kind offer.” He says with a small smirk as he stands up, offering his hand to you. Befriending a young aristocrat of Piltover. That could be very helpful with his plans. A little pawn all to himself. “I think it would be rude of me to reject it.”

Reaching up to take his hand, he helps you up as you look at him with a smile on your lips. “I promise it’ll be worth it.” You say sweetly.

He chuckles, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking off into the distance over Piltover. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

Your parents were certainly happy when you told them you’d be bringing a plus one. While you were sociable, you haven’t exactly been considered for any marriage unions yet with other young aristocrats- much to your parents dismay. You weren’t exactly the typical marriage candidate anyways. You didn’t have much of an interest in business or politics. You’d much rather do things you enjoy.

While you may seem innocent, you weren’t truly that ditsy. You knew your parents wouldn’t like the person you brought to dinner, but a part of you wanted the discourse. To show your parents you could be doing much worse than you are. But you have been well behaved your whole life, and you’re not doing drugs in a ditch somewhere in the Undercity.

Your mind had a knack for making things seem.. less complicated than they were. Call it a coping mechanism. You didn’t see a scenario where your parents would be incredibly upset that you brought home a man like him. Surely they would be welcoming to someone who has power. That’s what your brain told you, at least. You were sweet and innocent to everyone around you because your brain dumbed things down for you on the daily. Without that? You’d be a walking ball of anxiety. It’s better this way, being the silly little child of an aristocrat who could see the good in everyone.

You had agreed to meet Silco at the main bridge between Piltover and Zaun. When he walks through the evening fog, you smile at him. He was wearing a red button down with nice pants, probably some of the best clothes he had- while you were wearing a white button down with black pants. “You clean up nice.” You chuckle as he walks up to you.

“I try” he muses with a smirk as the two of you set off to your parent’s estate.

As the two of you walked, you can’t help but feel your chest tighten. Were you really about to bring a probably dangerous stranger into your parents home?

“What are you playing at, hm?” Silco hums, making you turn your head to look up at him. When he sees the look on your face, he chuckles. “I know this isn’t just a sweet little invitation. You have a motive.”

A sigh slips past your lips as you both mosey through the foggy streets of Piltover. “I needed a plus one.” You murmur.

“I don’t think I’m the kind of man you bring home to meet your parents.” He muses as he looks down at you.

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “Fine- fine.” You sigh. “My parents.. need me to get engaged. And I’m not very fond of the idea. So, I thought if I brought home..” you trail off quietly.

“An Undercity rat like me?” He huffs with a chuckle. “They’d realize they’d rather you single than with me? So if we broke up they’d be grateful?”

A groan slips past your lips as you reach up to rub your face. “Something like that.” You sigh. “Do you mind?”

He laughs faintly at your question. “Do I mind pretending to be the fiancé of a pretty little aristocrat?” He muses. “Not at all. Besides.. I’d rather be here than smoking a cigar in my office like every other night.”

The introduction to your parents was.. interesting.

“Mother, Father!” You say sweetly when you see your parents in the large foyer. They smile sweetly and walk up to you, both of their smiles faltering when they see Silco. “I wanted you to meet someone” you practically beam up at them.

Silco glances down and sees the look on your face, a smirk forming on his lips. You were quite the actor.. it was convincing. He looks at your parents and smirks a little wider at how they try to hold their smiles steady. He knew that look- the disapproving gaze as they examine his facial scars, and his inadequate outfit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He says lightly as he looks between the two of them.

“This is Mr. Silco- my fiancé!” You grin.

Seeing your parents worlds shatter before their eyes was quite funny. Even Silco had to admit that.

“Your- your fiancé?” Your mother asks quickly, trying to keep up her sweet act and temperament.

“Surprising, I know.” Silco chuckles. “I will admit, we did rush into it a little. But we both know we could die tomorrow. Why not celebrate our love today?” He smiles at your parents.

Christ, you thought to yourself. He was quite the actor. Even you would’ve believed that.

“Silco, you said?” Your father asks as he reaches out his hand to Silco. “It’s.. a pleasure.” He murmurs hesitantly.

“Let’s introduce you to some of the business partners” you say sweetly to Silco as you pull on his arm, dragging him with you throughout the large ball room area.

The night went on, introducing Silco to whoever you could, the cringe on your parents faces truly satisfying. Maybe two hours later Silco has made a name for himself, managing to keep up with conversation better than anyone expected. He may be from the Undercity, but he was quick of tongue. Eventually you manage to pull him along with you into an empty library with only a fire burning for light. As you close the door, you sigh contentedly.

“You’re better at this than I expected” you chuckle as you lean against the door.

“In my youth I certainly did talk my way through a few.. obstacles” he smirks as he sips on the glass of champagne he had in his hand. “I never did ask..” he murmurs as he walks to look around the room, glancing at the books on the shelves. “You don’t want to marry?”

A sigh slips past your lips as you walk into the room, sitting on a chair next to the fire. “I’m not the marriage type.” You mutter.

“That much is clear.” He smirks as he sets his glass down, walking over and resting his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning down so his face wasn’t far from your own. “You aren’t quite like the rest of them, hm? No crave for greed.. no desires that need to be sated. Am I right?”

Your eyes meet his for a moment before you lean back in the chair, your eyes shifting to the fire. “Right.” You murmur.

He gently cups your chin, pulling your gaze back to his own. “Such a little thing, you are.” He murmurs as his eyes trace over you. “I see why your parents keep you on a short leash.” He smirks.

“Yeah, well” you sigh. “They want to hand the leash off to someone else. Preferably a young aristocrat.”

“What if I said I could make all of your problems.. go away?” Silco’s voice questions quietly as he pulls your chin closer to his own.

“What do you mean?” You whisper faintly as you gaze up at him.

“What if I took a hold of your leash? Instead of some stupid boy who won’t know what to do with you..” he muses.

You scoff at his words, pushing him off of you and standing up. “I’m not going to be pawned off like an object” you say firmly as you turn your back to him.

He sighs, walking up behind you and speaking near the shell of your ear. “Little one.. you’ll be pawned off either way. Would you rather go to someone who will allow you freedom? Or a stranger?” He questions faintly.

A shaky breath slips past your lips as you process his words. “This is crazy.” You say faintly as you run your fingers through your hair.

“There, there” he coos in your ear. “Think of it this way.. you met a nice man, and invited him to a party. He helped you by pretending to be your fiancé.. and now you return the favor.” He says as he turns you around so you’re facing him again. “It’s truly not that complicated.”

“Favor?” You question. “What could I possibly do for you?”

“I already control Zaun.” He explains as he cups your chin. “It is in my best interest that I have ties to Piltover as well. Ties.. that cannot be broken. Such as a marriage.”

OKAY GUYSSS this is officially the longest thing I’ve written!! Merry late Christmas🥱

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 36

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Allusions to abuse

A/N: This feels more like a filler chapter, just carrying the story further with no real plot. Maybe that’s just the way I see it. The prison is on the horizon!

That first conscious breath when waking was still such a treasured moment. You could smell nature, taste the crisp cold, hear the sequestered tunes of the wild, and even venture to forget that death walked. For that handful of invaluable heartbeats, life was normal.  

That particular morning was different. You still experienced those precious few seconds of tranquility, your lips nearly curling into a smile when your brain—still hazy from sleep—realized it was dawn. Walkers had not stumbled upon your camp. No one had died. There were no screams. It was pleasantly quiet aside from soft gurgles and coos. 

You felt no panic when your hand touched the cold ground, finding Birdie to be gone. Even without her verbal cues, you could sense she was close by and so was Daryl.

“Doin’ a awful lot’a jabberin’, lil’ Bird.” 

His reposeful tone harbored an inkling of amusement. Your eyes opened slowly as if you feared making a sound that would disrupt the moment. Daryl was sitting with his back against a tree, knees drawn up to pillow a blanketed bundle of Birdie. One tiny hand was wrapped around his index finger while her other limbs were secure beneath the warmth of the fabric. 

“C’mon, gotta keep ya snug here. S’too cold.”

Craning his neck, he pressed the gentlest of kisses to little fingers before pulling his own digit free in order to tuck her hand away. The baby did not care for the idea, grunting and passing gas in protest. Daryl huffed a laughed through his nose. 

“Gonna need ‘nother diaper if ya keep that up.”  

A tiny mouth opened as if to squeak but stretched wider in a yawn. The action had the archer laughing again, an actual quiet chuckle. Extending a finger, he tapped Birdie’s cheek and watched her root around for a source of food. You could watch him interact with her all day long without an ounce of boredom. Not if she had anything to say about it, however. 

“Guess m’gonna hafta wake up your mama, huh?” The blanket bulged and shifted with the movements of little limbs beneath it, squeaks and grunts heightening in their insistence. “Okay, okay. M’a get ‘er.” Daryl cradled the baby across his chest, her weight resting on his right forearm so that he could use his left hand to push himself up. Truthfully, he could have simply outstretched his leg and tapped your shin with his boot, but he never was one for making anything easy on himself, was he? 

You contemplated closing your eyes, feigning sleep in order to give him those few moments he had thought were private. Having waited a fraction of a second too long, you were caught blinking up at him just as he began to crouch. “Hey.” The image of his fury was a vivid snapshot seared into your memory. Were things really okay after everything the previous day? Daryl narrowed his eyes, staring almost coldly at you before bouncing Birdie gingerly. 

That was more than likely a no. 

“Bird’s hungry. Ya wanna—” He motioned broadly toward your torso. “Ya can do the thing an’ I can give ‘er a bottle if ya don’t want ‘er ‘round.”

Ouch. 

“Daryl.” You sighed, sitting up with your sleeping bag pooled around your waist, only then registering the other voices and sounds. Everyone was already moving about. You had been so transfixed on the moment between father and daughter that you hadn’t noticed. “Of course I want her.” You reached upward before withdrawing. “Do you want to feed her?”

“Wanna do everythin’ for ‘er.” He replied without missing a beat. “But she needs ‘er mama too.” He said while adjusting the baby to support her properly as he waited for you to make a decision. 

“I’ll feed her and then pump what I can so you can feed her next time, okay?” He jerked his chin in agreement. Shedding your jacket, you pulled one arm from your sweater and unclipped the bra. The fact that he turned his head when your breast was exposed unearthed so many emotions, bile creeping into your throat. 

“A’ight then.” Daryl offered the squirming bundle, softly shushing her in such a way that made your heart melt, the puddle of it aching in waves. With a forward tilt on his knee, he helped support Birdie’s head while you adjusted her at your breast, his fingertips brushing against the outside curve of your skin. The gentleness in his expression toward Birdie turned pained, his gaze averting quickly as well as his hand. “M’a go see if there’s anythin’ I can get for some meat.” 

Bracing the baby firmly with one arm, you leaned to clasp Daryl’s wrist, flinching when his attention snapped toward you. For so long, you had been prominent in your belief that he would never hurt you. Now? After his words from the day before? Your faith had waned.

“You could stay.” The way your voice vibrated, the words stuttering off your tongue, was awkward. Even through the rough patches, you had fought boldly to hold on to the woman you had been, the one that had filled your father with such pride. If he could only see you now. You had cried, begged, and made decisions that would have had him turning his back on you in shame. 

Daryl didn’t appear to know how to respond, to neither your words nor your touch. His eyes flickered from your fingers to your eyes and back again, blue pools so deeply betraying his uncertainty and confusion to a level so bare that you feared he would lash out. When he didn’t, when he remained stock still and silent, it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t know how he was supposed to react. 

That was it, wasn’t it? He knew you weren’t trying to hurt Birdie. He understood you were only trying to maintain a measure of safety, that what you were doing was something you didn’t want to do but felt you had to do it. 

On the opposite side of the same coin, the thought of your capability to consider such a method had awoken a fear in him, memories of a time when he had been defenseless. In the face of that onslaught, he did the only thing he could do to protect his daughter. He had run. 

You weren’t dealing with Daryl’s anger. 

You were dealing with his pain. 

That made the situation no less volatile. A vulnerable, confused Daryl was not the easiest version of him to manage. Honoring your theory, you allowed your fingers to loosen. It was important for him to have some sort of control and you would grant him that. 

“I’d like it if you’d stay here with us.” 

His eyes narrowed. Daryl was far from clueless. He could sense the shift in the atmosphere, but an opening had been left for him, a way to retreat. A sliver of tension melted from his muscles, you could feel the taut tendons relax beneath your touch. 

“A’ight.” He rasped, unceremoniously tipping back onto his ass. You weren’t sure if the space he left between the two of you was intentional. It didn’t matter. He had chosen to stay, the implications of that decision still unclear.

Your smile was a tight line, gaze lingering on him for a moment before you looked down at Birdie, her eyes heavy-lidded as she suckled, little hand wrapped around Daryl’s finger. When had he reached over? Her skin was so pale in comparison, soft and delicate where Daryl’s was tan and calloused. Those hands were so gentle with your daughter. With you. 

You longed to return to that time, when it was all new and a path was being carved toward a future together. Would you ever be that way again? You had to try. For Birdie and for the sake of your own heart. 

“I’ll never make a decision about her again without talking to you.” You blurted without looking away from the tender moment. There was an unnerving silence that awoke a nauseating fear inside you. “Please talk to me.” You continued to avoid meeting his eyes. “I’m not willing to lose this—us.”

“Ain’t losin’ nothin’.” 

Your head snapped up to find him watching you, expression hard and wary. “I’m—you’re not—”

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head and sniffed, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder as if alleviating an itch that may or may not have been actually there. “Just—I dunno.”

You wanted to tell him you got it, that you understood, but you didn’t. You couldn’t possibly. His trauma was wound so deep within the tendrils of his soul that it was possible some had become permanent, never able to heal. He would need to work through this, but he wouldn’t do it alone. You could still support him. Not understanding didn’t mean not caring. 

“I love her, Daryl. I was—I am—struggling, but I love her and I’d never hurt her.” You blew out a breath through pursed lips, holding his gaze despite the myriad of feelings that stirred behind your ribs. “I love you.”

He blinked fast, his eyes wet. He sniffed again, his jaw ticking as he looked away, side to side, up then down, anywhere but at you. “Y/N, I—”

“Hey, Daryl?” You turned to glare over your shoulder at Glenn. He was looking straight up, likely to avoid seeing your breast even as Birdie had the nipple sealed between her lips. One day, the lovable idiot would learn to read the room. “You think you can could go see about some game? I know it’s cold, I know, but we could use—”

“No, he can’t.” You snapped with a little more vexation than you had expected or meant, but from the way the man flinched and started backing away, your point had been made. 

“What’d ya do that for?” You found Daryl’s angry eyes awaiting you when you turned around, though he was working hard to heat the pointed glare. “Can speak for myself.”

The sigh that left you was nothing less than exasperated. “I know you can but we,” you freed a hand from beneath your daughter to gesture back and forth between her and yourself, “need you here.”

He was at war with himself, that much was obvious, blue orbs flitting back and forth. He had responsibilities tearing him in two, his duty toward the group in the throes of a never ending battle against his commitment to you and Birdie. You thought he would give in to the demands of Rick and the others, and you couldn’t fault him. Your heart sank when he stood and moved out of your view. 

“Daddy’ll be back, baby girl. He’s just going to—” The weight of a blanket settled across your shoulders seconds before Daryl lowered himself to sit at your side, his hip and shoulder pressing against yours. He didn’t smile, still tense and circumspect, but leaned closer, nearly resting his head against yours so he could stroke the baby’s cheek. 

“Told ya I can speak for myself.” He huffed. “And m’gonna stay right here.”

[chanlix-honey]

Run It Again (Bang Chan)

Warning: Smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, fear of thunder, and a panic attack occurrence. Please let me know if I missed anything! Minors, please do not interact.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Thank you all for your patience! Without further ado, here's my first Bang Chan x Fem Reader fic. I'm thinking of making this a series, but I have too many ideas and not enough time to write. Let me know if you would like me to continue this, and make it a series with all the boys!

It’s Friday night, and you’ve just come home from a long day of doing voiceovers. With your throat a little sore, you decide to boil some water for a honey tea and change out of your work clothes. Once you’ve changed into your sleepwear, your phone rings. Your manager, Delilah, is calling you.

“Hey Y/N, are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh, no I don’t think so. Why, what’s up, Delilah?” You ask. You hear her sneeze, sounding distant from her phone. 

“-choo! I’m so sorry for calling so last minute, but the animation team just told me they finished the final scenes for the show,” she starts.

“Ah, ok.” Your kettle clicks off, signaling that your water is boiled. You return to the kitchen, grabbing a cup, spoon, and a honey jar. 

You shoulder your phone to multitask the call and your tea. “And you know what else is great? Cough cough—The director called just before I called you to say that the voices need to be done by Sunday morning so the team can review it.” 

You stop your movements, putting down the honey. 

“What?”

“Yeah…I know.” 

You both sigh on the call together. Delilah clears her throat.

“Could you come in tomorrow morning so we can make any necessary edits before the review?” Her coughs crunch on the other end of the line.

“Definitely, I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“Great! I’ll email you the script now so you can take a look at your lines beforehand. I’m so sorry for all of this, I’m—cough—sure this is inconvenient for you.”

“It’s okay, really! Like I said, I have no plans for tomorrow.” You reassure her. 

“Ok, thank you...I’ll see you tomorrow! I’ll send the script now. Good night, y/n!” 

“Got it. Good night Delilah.” You both hang up.

You stir the honey and hot water in thought. 

As much as you love voice acting, sometimes the job can be stressful. You’re grateful that this job lets you express yourself through characters and it pays your bills. And to be working with the company of your dreams—Stray Kids—is unreal. You remember watching Skzoo as a kid and the joy it brought you. And yet, you can’t help but think that there seems to be some lack of communication (and time management?) within some departments. Hyunjin–head of animation–often loses his head if Felix isn’t around to check in with him.

Finishing your tea, you put the cup in the sink. You head to the fridge to grab some leftovers and put them in the microwave to heat up. Once the food starts rotating, you hear your phone ding. Checking the notification, you read the email. It’s the script for tomorrow’s session.

The TV plays in the background, but you don’t really pay any mind to it until this moment. “Be sure to bring an umbrella if you’re planning to go out tomorrow, as there is a high chance of rain tomorrow…”

You skim through your lines until the microwave beeps. You take out your food and begin to read through the script carefully.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

—

You arrive in front of the production building. 

Dark clouds billow the skies, and the sound of thunder floods your ears. You scamper into the building quickly, umbrella in hand. When you enter the building the rain begins to pelt down on the ground. You jump, as lightning strikes outside. For a moment, you stop and breathe deep and shaky breaths. Once you’ve calmed down, you take the stairs to the second floor. All the recording booths are at this level, making it helpful for your trembling knees.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t last all day,” you mutter to yourself. 

You’ve always hated storms. They’ve terrified you ever since you were a kid. The strong winds always made you paranoid, thinking of the worst situations. When thunder breached your ears, you would always hide under a blanket to muffle the noise. Your parents used to let you hide in their closet to calm down, usually with a stuffed animal or blanket in hand. 

Even today, they stress you out. As if coming to work in the morning for a last-minute session wasn’t stressful enough.

Entering the recording room, you put your stuff down on the couch with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for sound-proof rooms. Comfortable with the atmosphere, you head into the booth. You take some headphones sitting on a small table in the booth and put them on. Waiting for Delilah and the others to come in, you open your phone to review the script some more. After a few minutes, you get a text from her.

Hey Y/N, just wanted to let you know I can’t make it to the studio today. I woke up with a terrible cold. One of the other guys will come in to watch over your session.

Ah, ok. Thanks for letting me know! I’ll stop by to bring you some soup. Take it easy in the meantime!

One of the other guys? Who could it—

“—Y/N? Can you hear me?” A male voice takes you out of your thoughts. You widen your eyes as you’re familiar with that voice. Looking up, you see him.

“Oh good, you can. I’ll be filling in for Delilah, so just do your lines as if I wasn’t here.” He smiles.

The director is here? Why him, out of everyone? Your hands begin to clam up.

Changbin or Han is usually here to fill in if something happens. 

“Ahm, I got them working on other projects this morning, so their schedules are full.”

“Oh, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

He nods, sheepishly. An embarrassing moment of silence passes and his voice fills my ears. 

“Right, go ahead and start from line 5, I’ll play the scene just two lines before yours, so be ready.” You nod in agreement.

The scene plays and you’re cued in to say your line. “Hello! I’m Joy, the host of this series, where the boys bake…”

You breeze through your lines and before you know it, you’re nearly done with this session. 

Until, this line. 

This is great! Mmm, this pastry is so good, mmm…

You tense up, forgetting that line felt a little lewd for your liking. You thought about it while reading through the script the first time. Realizing that Delilah would be there to listen in, the anxious thought went away quickly. 

But Delilah isn’t here. Chan is. The director of this whole project is here watching you voice your lines.

No way. No way I’m doing this line in front of the director. It feels weird…wrong even. I can’t do this! 

You’ve never really interacted with a guy in that way before. There is zero experience in that field. You never even touched porn or smut books to find out. You run away when guys flirt with you. The idea of interacting with someone to that extent terrifies you. Doing anything that even remotely puts yourself in a situation that could lead to uhm…doing more…sets you off. You’re worried you would mess up. Especially since you wouldn’t know what to do. You find that trying to function becomes quickly more difficult.

You curse to yourself at the cold that took over Delilah. 

The count-in starts, quickly realizing you're up. And the line is next. “This is g-great! Sorry, I stuttered.” He pauses the recording to talk to you.

“No worries, we can always cut it. Just try it again. I’ll give you the last line to prepare yourself.” He instructs, hearing the count-in tick in your ears.

“This is great! M–coughs” he pauses it again. “Is everything okay Y/N?”

“coughs, clearing throat y-eah, yeah. Sorry, I just had something caught in my throat *coughs* I-I’m fine.” You move away from the microphone to clear your throat some more. After a moment, you stretch and take deep breaths to calm down.

“I’m alright now, I can do it this time!” 

“Ok, let’s take it back to the last line.” You nod and hear the count-in once more.

The line plays and you’re ready. “This is grea-AH!” You jump back from the microphone and take your headphones off. Chan bursts into the booth concerned.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“A spider..” you pant. “I saw a spider on the mic…” He looks around the mic and the ground to find it. 

“Spider? I don’t see it anywhere.” He keeps looking around but to no avail. You could’ve sworn you saw it! Didn’t you? Or maybe was it just your hair in your face? 

He sighs and rubs his eyes. 

“I know we’re almost done, but let’s take a break. It’s still early, and we’re both clearly tired. We’ve been going at this for a few hours already.” His head tilts towards the door leading back to the recording space. You follow him begrudgingly.  

He must be so annoyed with me. Maybe he’ll fire me for this… You think to yourself.

Once exiting the booth, you see him back in the chair staring ahead, lost in thought.

After a few moments, he speaks again. 

“I’ve noticed you’re having trouble finishing the line.” He looks at you. Chan gets up from the chair and saunters over to you. 

“I-I just got it yesterday...I’m just flubbing over this one.” You reassure, avoiding eye contact. Keeping a distance, you walk backward as he continues coming towards you. 

“Honest. You just said yourself, it’s early. W-we’re tired. I-I’m tired.” You stammer. Unable to walk any further, your back presses against the wall. Chan places his hand on the wall, near your face, and leans in closer and closer, just until there’s a few inches of space between your noses.

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re nervous.” he sneers, picking up on your nerves.

“Is it…because of me?” He questions.

“That’s..I–” he gently grabs your chin and tilts it up, bringing your vision back to him.

“Delilah tells me you’re great at what you do. Am I wrong?” You feel your face getting hot.

“N-no, you’re not..” you mutter.

You hear your heartbeat travel from your chest to your ears. Blood continues to rush to your face. You start to feel your pussy thrum at the situation.

“Hm. Thought so.” The hand on your chin travels to your lips. His thumb brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

So soft…I could kiss her right now. He thinks.

“Have you…have you been with someone before?” He looks down at your lips, licking his. Your eyes widen at the question.

“I-!” You close your mouth, trying to collect your thoughts. He looks back up to you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t think that question has anything to do with my work—”

“—Oh but it does. Have you ever felt a man’s touch before, Y/n?” Your brain short circuits. You struggle to find words.

“Have they…” his hand slinks down to your hip, his other hand still perched on the wall.

“Taken care of your needs?”

“Uh…” you begin to feel a wetness growing in your panties.

“Maybe…pleasured you before?” His hand shifts some more, resting on your thigh. His thumb rubs towards your inner thigh, fingers reaching close to your womanhood. You feel yourself vibrate under his touch.

“I…” his hand stops moving on your thigh, waiting for your response. 

“N-no..” you whisper. “You’re the first.” He hums in response, as his eyes darken.

“Then can I–no. May I, take care of you?”

All the lights were cut off, and all the electronics whirring in the room were powered down. Chan looked around in the dark room, realizing what had just happened.

“Eep!” You quickly grab onto Chan’s shirt and hide in his chest. 

“The storm must have knocked out the electricity. It’s alr–”

“–Please.” His attention is brought back to you. 

“Please, uhm…” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, combing your fingers into his hair. He smiles.

“At your service.” He leans in to kiss you, closing the gap. 

For the first time in your life, you feel so...aware of your body. Blood pumps to your fingers. Goosebumps lay atop your skin. You feel your hair standing up. You feel the fuzz on your soft sweater. The chill rushing up your back. The throbbing in your jeans. The warmth of his touch. His hands ride up under your sweater, just enough where he can feel the skin above your jeans. 

The smell of Chan’s cologne wraps around you, and it's so rich. It’s a light vanilla smell with a bite of cedar and a dash of cinnamon–it’s all you want to smell. And his hair is so plush. It’s like feeling a pillow. You want him, and yet you can’t do anything. You don’t know how.

Your lips move with tenacity, with caution. Anxiety prisons your well-being and you freeze, unsure of what to do next. Chan notices this and pulls back. He rubs his thumbs on your hips to help you calm down.

“Is this ok? Do you want to stop?” He asks.

“I-No. I’m sorry, this is ok…I just don’t know what to do.” Your mind is going a million miles per hour. You struggle to grasp where your head is. All the possibilities of what-ifs, hows, and should-I thoughts whir into the blender that is your mind. You’re slipping into the rabbit hole. A dark pit of void that is filled with racing thoughts. The void strangles you, seeping into your lungs. They continue to fill, ready to burst–

“—Y/N?” A pin drops. You hear your name breathe past his lips. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright. We can stop if you’re not feeling ok.”

“No, sorry I–I just need a second.” You shakily sigh. “Can I–is it ok if I hug you? Sorry, I–”

He pulls you into his chest, and a small poomf sound is heard, as he wraps his arms around you. Your body vibrates for a moment. Your anxiousness has nowhere to go, so it encapsulates your body. You take deep breaths to really try and calm down. Chan rubs the small of your back–ever so softly–you hum in response.

“Don’t apologize to me ever again. And you don’t have to ask if you need something from me. Just tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Sor–I’ll-I’ll try.” You sink further into his chest as you feel your heart beating to a normal level. Your shoulders slump and you wrap your arms around him.

You start to hear his heart beating in his chest. It’s nearly all you can hear.

After a few minutes, you let go of him and he gently pulls away.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers.

“Better.” You sigh in contentment.

“..And about…?” He leads. You feel your face get hot again.

“Oh! Uh, y-es. I’m still–yes.” You nod. “Tell me at any point if you want to stop, ok?”

“Alright,” you respond. He leans down to your ear and whispers.

“Good girl. Listen to your body and let it talk for you. I’ll do the rest.” He brings his hands to your hips once more. He tilts down, his face breathing down your neck. Softly, he presses his lips to it. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again. 

He keeps at this to trail down your neck and a bit past your collarbone. He stops just above your sweater, where it lays. 

“I’m going to take this off of you, ok? Raise your arms for me, baby girl.” You do just as you’re told, and he pulls your sweater off of you, revealing your chest and baby pink bra. You’re itching to hide your chest as a habit but you’re more curious to see what else he does next. So you tame the itch. 

“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” Chan takes you into his arms and kisses in between your breasts. He sucks and licks all around your exposed flesh, leaving marks. In the midst of this, he slips one of his hands onto your bra’s clasp and undoes the latch. Coming up to your shoulders, he slides the bands of your bra off them.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” You look away, blushing some more. You feel your lower region pulse. A soaking feeling sits in your panties once more and you moan quietly. Though not quiet enough. 

“Fuck baby girl,” Bangchan grabs your thighs and lifts you. “Daddy wants to hear that again.” You wrap your legs around his hips. Chan kisses you again, his tongue threatening to take dominance. He licks your bottom lips for entrance and you comply, letting him explore your tongue. 

He leans you on the wall to take a hand to one of your breasts. With his right hand free, he teases your nipples, pinching and pulling at his own discretion. You moan and whimper in his mouth and Chan can’t help but praise you. He pulls away from the intense kiss while continuing to play with your breasts.

“That’s it pretty girl, you’re so good for me.” Chan nuzzles himself into the other side of your neck, leaving kisses all over it. 

“Everyone should know you’re mine,” he growls. He sucks and bites your neck, intentionally bruising it. 

“O-oh Chan…” you whimper. Still on his hips, you feel his stiffness. You need more of him, this isn’t enough.

“Mmh..” you grind on him once and your pussy twitches. Both of you are still clothed. There’s so many layers between you two. But you can’t help it. You want him. You need him. 

Before you realize, you hear Chan groaning in your ear.

You grind on him again. And again. And again.

“Fuck baby, you’re so eager. You want my dick, huh? You want daddy’s dick in you, princess?” He growls.

You stop for a moment, feeling your body flutter in response to Bangchan calling himself “Daddy”. Rolling off his tongue so pleasantly, so confidently. You plead to yourself mentally, wishing he would say it again. You whine, melting into his body.

“Yes! P-please. I n-need it..daddy.” He coos.

“Aw, you're so cute. You like it when I call myself daddy, don't you princess?” Your face feels hot.

“Y-yes..I really like it..” you mutter, hiding your face in his neck.

“Such a sweet girl. I can’t deny you begging so nicely for me. Daddy will give you what you want…but first, I’m going to take your pants off ok?” He speaks softly.

“Ok.” You nod.

He puts you down to unzip your pants. Pulling them down enough to see your matching pink panties. Your damp spot is revealed and he hums at the sight.

“My, my, baby girl. All soaked, just for me.” He gets down on his knees.

Chan kisses your pussy between the panties and pulls them down, along with your pants. You step out of them, now completely naked. He looks up to you.

“Let me hear you more princess, ok?” Chan plants his face into your region and you squeal in surprise. It’s a new feeling. An odd feeling. A good feeling. Really good. He licks your clit slowly and you whine.

“Ah..d-daddy. That feels good,” you sigh. Chan licks a long stripe, close to your cunt. You feel the pit of your belly sink. At the same time, it feels like something’s unraveling, like a blooming flower. One by one petals peel away from its center. Your cunt pulsates, aching for more.

Chan speeds up, his tongue flattening and stretching between your folds. He alternates his pace, all in attempts to rile you up. This works, as you feel..something grow.

This bubbling feeling…feels like it’s going to burst…

“I’m–I’m–” 

Before you can form your sentence, your body shakes, erupting a wave of shock and pleasure throughout your body. He stops his actions to give you a moment.

“Good girl, let it all out for Daddy,” He brings a hand to your head, petting your hair gently.

Once your body relaxes, you feel something warm and wet come out of you. 

“Ah, you’re so pretty when you cum babygirl.” He kisses your temples gingerly. 

You could barely feel his kisses as your body felt like it was floating. You feel hazy, but good. All you’re thinking about is Chan and you feel butterflies in your belly. Your thoughts move slowly. Drifting around like clouds. Eventually, come back to yourself.

“Doing ok cutie?” He asks.

All you could muster up to say was “Mhm”. You smile up at him, laying a hand on his cheek. 

“We didn’t get to, um–” He interrupts.

“It’s ok, I came when you did. We can work up to it next time.” He grabs the hand on his cheek and kisses it.

“N-Next time?!” You blush.

“Of course…and we have some things to talk about before we get there. Would you like to get lunch together?”

Thunder dispels the sweet moment you both shared. “Can we order in?”

“Of course. We’re gonna be stuck inside for a bit.” He giggles.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah?”

[crssvjb]

Monaco - Ayrton Senna

Ayrton Senna x driver!reader

Summary: As a Formula 1 driver, racing for Ferrari, you win for the first time in Monaco. You and Ayrton are good friends, but there was something more there.

The sound of engines roaring on the Monaco circuit was deafening. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline permeated the air. It was an electric atmosphere, filled with tension and expectation. The narrow, winding track was an impeccable challenge, requiring absolute precision and indomitable courage.

You were in the cockpit of your Ferrari, your heart pounding as you waited for the race to start. The red lights went out, and the show began. Every curve, every straight, every overtaking was a battle. You drove with fierce determination, conscious of every movement, feeling the car like an extension of your own body.

The last lap seemed like an eternity. With your heart racing, you crossed the finish line first. The victory was yours. The first victory in Monaco, a monumental feat for any Formula 1 driver, but even more special for you, who had dreamed of this moment since childhood.

When you got out of the car, you were greeted with a shower of applause and screams. The Ferrari team was ecstatic, the technical team applauded and lifted you on their shoulders. You couldn't believe what had just happened. And then, in the crowd, you saw him: Ayrton Senna, your longtime friend and confidant.

Senna, who came in second place, smiled widely when he saw you, his eyes shining with pride. He approached, pushing his way through the journalists and photographers. – "You were amazing!" – He said, his voice full of emotion. – "I knew you had it in you!"

– "Thank you, Ayrton." – You replied, your voice choked with joy and adrenaline. – "I couldn't have done it without your support."

He pulled you into a tight hug, and you felt the connection of years of friendship and mutual admiration. When they pulled away, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear. The tumult of the celebration, the camera flashes, everything became a blur. There were only the two of you, in that moment of pure euphoria.

Without thinking, you moved closer, and your lips met in a kiss full of passion and intensity. It was as if all the repressed emotion, all the affection and desire accumulated over the years, was released at that moment. The kiss was brief but intense, and when you broke apart, you were both breathless, surprised by what had just happened.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of interviews, celebrations and congratulations. The kiss with Ayrton kept replaying in his mind, but there was no time to process it calmly. Night fell, and the celebrations calmed down. The paddock was quieter, with just a few team members still working.

You found Ayrton in a far corner, watching the sea. He seemed to be lost in thought, but upon noticing your presence, he smiled softly.

– "Congratulations again, champion." – He said, his voice soft and welcoming.

– "Thanks." – You replied, approaching. – "We need to talk about what happened earlier."

He nodded, looking serious. – "Yes we need."

You sat down, the sound of waves crashing in the background. – "Ayrton, that kiss... it was something I didn't expect, but I don't regret it."

He held your hand, the touch warm and comforting. – "Neither do I. I feel like I've been waiting for this for a long time, but I never had the courage to act."

– "Me too." – You admitted it. – "There has always been something between us, something more than friendship. Maybe today, with all the emotion, it finally came to the surface."

– "Yes." – He agreed. – "And now?"

You sighed, thinking about all the implications. – "Beco, we are pilots, our lives are complicated. But if there's anything I learned today, it's that we can't let opportunities pass us by. I want to see where it can take us."

He smiled, that smile that always brightened your days. – "I'm willing to try, if you are."

You embraced each other again, this time with new hope and expectation. The future was uncertain, but at that moment, nothing else mattered other than how you felt about each other. Victory in Monaco was the start of something new, not just in his career, but also in his heart. And you were ready to face this new journey, alongside Ayrton Senna.

⎊𝙘𝙧𝙨𝙨𝙫𝙟𝙗 - ²⁰²⁴

[julzrulz]

Midoriya learns urinal etiquette

˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

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NSFW WARNING 18+

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LMAOOOO IVE BEEN GONE FOR 3 YEARS missed yall<33

Shessss backkkkkkkkk -sexy red

Anyway how is everyone? How’s tumblr doing? we still give af abt mha smut?

I hope y’all do bc I’m coming back to all my drafts and I had some good stuff!! this one’s kinda funnn! Lmk how we feel abt it ofc apologies for any spelling and grammar errors she’s rusty as hell

Male bodied reader!! I asked for a dick for Christmas and didn’t get one sad face emoji

Anyway, following deku to the bathroom and giving him a “hand” at the urinal oops

Rating: R (Restricted, 18 and Up permitted, sexual content)

Pairings: Sub! Deku x Dom! Masc! Reader

CW: Smut, handjob (character recieveing), lowkey piss (?) sorry not sorry, publicish, kinda pushy reader but deku likes it, pet names, no aftercare, humiliation

Notes: Gender neutral pronouns, male bodied reader, characters aged up to 3rd years 18+

You and izuku have been hooking up for quite a while now and of course his only ask from you when you guys started this whole thing was to not tell anyone. Bummer. You would love nothing more than for the entire school to see just what you do to the popular, shy, but strong third year.

The way you can make him come so undone beneath you, how much of a whimpering mess he can be. It’s quite beautiful really. He’s not so shy when he’s with you, if he was you wouldn’t have discovered just how flexible this boy was— you’re thoughts are broken when Aizawa finally shuts off that stupid hero documentary that was playing for the last hour. It supposedly was very important but you’ve been staring at a particular greenette the entire time.

He must’ve been the biggest fan of the doc Aizawa played, in fact, he was probably the only one who paid attention. You couldn’t stop watching how his feet were bouncing underneath his desk— cute, was he doing that because he was excited from the documentary? Usually you’re the only one able to get him that excited. No… he’s also hunched over and alittle squirmy? You can see how he’s grabbing at the desk too… weird what’s he thinking right now?.

Izuku’s hand shoots straight up as soon as there’s a break in Aizawa’s recap about the film we just watched. Aizawa, in the most mono tone voice “Yes Midoryia?”

Izuku quickly asks if he can use the bathroom. Oh you get it now he must’ve been holding it the entire doc to be so desperate. It’s almost—hot.

Of course izuku is still the only person who raises his hand for this kind of thing. Aizawa has made it pretty clear as third years we can just leave to go relieve ourselves.

With a sigh and reminder that he doesn’t need to hear about it, Aizawa dismisses izuku.

You don’t normally follow izuku to the bathroom, infact you never have before. But maybe all the day dreaming you were doing during the documentary has made you quite excited. And maybe there’s a little less blood in ur head. And maybe now the room is too hot and your pants are too tight. Before you know it you’re out of ur chair and in the hallway walking to the direction of the nearest bathroom.

When you walk in you can see izuku standing at one of the urinal stalls with his back towards you. After a bit of shuffling from izuku you start to hear the sound of trickling liquid on porcelain. With a slight sigh he throws his head back— obviously quite pleased with his release. Those two movements are very familiar to you… but normally caused by a very different type of release.

One quick scan of the bathroom being dead empty and you’re walking up to izuku. The back of his head hits your chest and you instinctively grab his waist and pull it towards you.

“What the-mHUH?” Izuku tenses and looks all the way up to see your face peering down at him. His face is red and he shuffles slightly obviously to try and cover himself, however with his dick in his hands and the stream of piss still steady— it’s not working out for him.

“Hey” you say with a smirk, it’s funny really he’s such a strong and talented hero but he’s so small underneath you.

“I—I I’m kinda busy y/n” he says voice quiet and wavering. He sounds unsure, confused, and very very very flustered.

“Relax would you… nothing I haven’t seen before” you’re lying, kinda, you’ve very much seen every inch of him but definitely not pissing. You can feel the humiliation radiating off of him while he squirms in ur grasp. You bury you nose in his hair, intoxicating his sent. God you love that smell, your breaths become deeper and you pull his hips so his ass backs up into you.

You hear a quiet whine escape him and you let out quite the huff. He already knows you’re as stiff as a rock, for *some* reason you always are around him. But he’s definitely confused how him being at a urinal is helping this any.

You slowly grind against his ass, there are many of layers of fabric in between you too but that doesn’t seem to faze you much.

“R-really you couldn’t wait untill later… what’s coming over y-you?” He’s a stuttering babbling mess, still shuffling in place and swapping glances between you, his dick sitting heavy in his hands and the bathroom door. He’s nervous about being so public— this is definitely a strange view, he wouldn’t be able to explain it away at all. And embarrassed is an understatement, this shy green haired boy definitely never wanted to see the day he’s watched so intensely while pissing and to make it worse he can’t seem to stop. He had to go so so bad.

He couldn’t be more humiliated while ur eyes seemed to be locked on him relieving himself. Your dick is twitching in your pants seeing how humiliated the boy is, face red and eyes wet and beaty.

His whirthing and whining comes to a screeching hault and he lets out a sharp gasp when your hand slowly warps around his.

“Y/n whyyy— p-please not now” izuku whines under his breath, eyes darting to the bathroom door. His dick is hot and firm from the strength of his stream. This you can confidently say you’ve never done before.

There’s no one there, you know there will be no one there, it’s the middle of class and around this stressful time of year people who have any sense stay in their seat.

After what seems like an eternity his stream starts to trickle to a stop. Both of your breaths are heavy and you can tell izuku is trying very hard to distract himself from your hand wrapped around his. That and the grinding you’re doing from behind.

“Okay w-we can go now” He’s quick to try to let go but you react by griping him tighter.

“-ngh” it’s hard to keep his mind off anything now with the grip you have on him. You can feel his legs get weak. With a particular hard thrust from you he stumbles forward, using both his hands to grip to the sides of the urinal to stop him from falling anymore forward. With one of your hands still tight on the hip the other starts to make teasing touches at his growing erection.

You give him a little squeeze and a drop of urine leaks out from his slit. You’re quick to use that little moisture while you slowly start to fist his length. It’s not perfect but you know it won’t be long until he leaks enough pre to replace it.

“Ugh- f-ffuck y/n” the boy whimpers hands still glued at opposite ends of the urinal. His slightly bent over position isn’t helping him any if he wants to stop, your rock hard length still grinding against his clothed ass.

“Y/n I wanna go back to class please” his voice is wavering it’s so cute he’s trying so hard to be quiet. “W-what if someon-nnghh walks in”

“Shhh izuku relax baby” you plant open mouthed kisses all over the back of his neck, your grinding not stopping for a second and neither is your pumping. The pet name makes his face red. You speed up the pace and it pulls a loud gasp from izuku.

“Ff-fughh mmhf” your pace is ruthless and the poor boy is practically shaking underneath you. The hand on his hip reaches up and pulls hard on his hair throwing his head back. His mouth is hung open pouring out all sorts of desperate noises. Your mouth finally leaves his neck and you lick a stripe up to his ear.

“Yea, you like that don’t you?” your deep raspy voice whispers in his ear in between grunts.

“Hhgff” is all izuku makes out. You give him a squeeze and he squeaks in response.

“Use your words” your breath is hot on izukus neck and it’s almost dizzying to the boy beneath you.

“Y-yes yes I like it nghh” izuku is almost drooling, your pace is ruthless, hand wet and sticky from his precum. You’re boxing him into the little stall, so big around him that no one would even notice he was here if they did walk in.

“And you wanted to go back to class… pft— you’re so easy izuku” you taunt. Izuku’s eyes close head still thrown back looking up at you. Sweat starts to form on the boys forehead. You let go of his green locs and slip ur arm underneath his UA uniform shirt.

“I bet you would’ve just let anyone come up behind you huh?” Your fingers trace up his torso until you meet his small hard nipples, pinching and playing with them between your fingers. He whines at both your comment and action. You’re special to him, you know that. There’s no way no one is as close to this boy as you are even if no body but the two of you know it.

He’s practically mewling now, desperate moans, gasps, and whines progressively getting louder filling this empty bathroom. You’re so good to him. So rough at just the right times. You’ve mastered his body and know exactly how to play within his limits.

“Y/n— nghh I- you feel so good oh god” Izuku’s head falls forward leaning against the cold bathroom tiled wall. His grip never wavering from the sides of the urinal below him fearing his knees might give out.

“You gonna cum baby? Huh? Aren’t you supposed to be in class… Tsk tsk” you can help your teasing “Aizawa is probably so confused where such a good student has been for the last 10 minutes” izuku responds with a drawn out whine… he loves when you call him that.

“I- oh oh shit y/n— nghhhh mph I’m-” with a long and loud drawn out moan Izuku’s whole body shakes and convulses.

Izuku cums and cums hard splurting all over the porcelain urinal beneath him. You’re careful to angle his dick towards it to not leave any evidence on his clothing.

His dick twitches sporadically as you continue to pump his length, god he’s cumming so much. You ring a few careful circles around his nipple before releasing it and tracing your hand back down to his hip. Pumping the last of Izuku’s cum from his abused dick you let go of him.

Izuku lets out a sharp inhale when your hand leaves him, only for it to be silenced when you bring your hand towards his mouth. He knows what that means, you’ve trained him well and he’s so good for you.

He starts to slowly lick at your hand and fingers cleaning it as good as he can.

You look down at your own length straining against your pants against Izuku’s clothed behind. With a small grind of your hips you let out a strained grunt.

“Y-y/n?” You can hear the nervousness in his voice you know what he’s thinking, are you sure more?… No, not now, you both have already been here long enough.

“Just wait until tonight” you say with a huff and a sly tone to your voice. You’re gonna ruin him for riling you up. Removing your hands and taking a step back from the smaller boy. With a swift spank on his ass you turn and walk out of the bathroom. Izuku gasps with the force of your hand and whimpers at the loss of your warmth, still coming down from his high.

A quick fix of your stiff manhood makes your raging boner less obvious as you walk back to class. Leaving a sweaty and spent izuku huffing and puffing in the urinal stall, feeling so blissed out and used.

*flush <3*

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲!

( ˘ ³˘)♥

[whimsijoy]

steve harrington helps his nurse fiancee get ready for work when she's called in too early ☄. *. ⋆

wc: 1.3k

warnings/about: reader gets called in early for a bus crash, no description tho. fluff, breakfast is made, steve harrington my house husband <3 set in like 1989, sorry if there’s inaccuracies i wasn’t born yet lol

a/n: omg its finally winter break, and then I got sick, but it was christmasssss so I got a new laptop. i shall be a menace made of clicky keys

—

You wake up to the tinny ring of the phone by your and Steve’s bed. You barely have enough time to compute what’s going on, what time it is, before you have the pale green plastic pushed to the side of your face, your own fingers gripping the plastic loosely.

You squint at your alarm clock and make sure that you’re not late for work. Considering the fact that your shift wouldn’t start until 10:00 AM, and the short hand of your alarm clock is hovering around the 5. Unless Steve decided to dose you with a horse tranquilizer, you’re sure you’re being called in early.

“Hello?” You rasp out silently. You’ve learned that Steve sleeps like he’s been given horse tranquilizers. You’re sure that he’s slept through an earthquake before.

“Hello,” You hear a familiar voice drawl through the handset. “—is this Miss [L/N]?” Is it Amy or Priscilla? You’re too tired to compute that information, other than the fact that it’s a coworker.

“Yeah, Mhm.” You say a little more clearly as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your adjacent hip digging into the mattress beneath you. 

“So, unfortunately, there was a bus crash right outside of town, and the nurse-to-patient ratio is just… completely out of whack. Would you be able to come in? We’re willing to pay you overtime for this.” The voice explains through the phone. You figure it’s Priscilla talking since she’s the chattier one. 

You stare at the clock, your log of a fiancée, the ceiling, and then the window before sighing. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there within the hour or so.” You mumble into the handset with your head hung. 

You know you’ll be abusing that staff room coffee machine the second you get there, so you don’t bother making your way into the kitchen once you get out of bed. You plunk the handset back onto the boxier part of the phone before stretching your body so hard that you have to sit back down on the edge of the bed. 

A few deep breaths and some slower movements later, you’re starting the shower. You strip yourself of the nice pajama set Steve bought you for your most recent birthday before stepping under the shock of the water.

You go about your shower routine for the day, your tired hands grazing the lathered loofah all over your body until you deem yourself clean enough for work. You step out, dry off, and wrap yourself in your robe before venturing into the closet. 

After putting on your starched whites, which Steve so dutifully washed for you, you’re in front of the mirror trying to make it look like you’re not running on an inadequate amount of sleep. It’s easier said than done, or so you’ve figured out. However, you feel lucky that your hospital has allowed you to switch from dresses and skirts to white, open-collared shirts and trousers.  

While brushing your teeth, you watch the bathroom door behind you slowly creak open. By the time Steve shows his tired face in the gap, you’re already making dead eye contact with him in the mirror. You’ve been caught. 

Steve’s too tired to be stern. Instead, he gets clingy. He lets out a yawn before covering your shoulders with his hands, and then pressing the front of his left hip to your right glute. You continue the movement of brushing your teeth and gums as he starts pressing lazy kisses to your neck. 

“What’s with the getup?” He mumbles into your shoulder blade. The corners of your mouth turn up around your toothbrush before you spit out the white foam. 

“They’ve called me in early.” You say matter-of-factly, to his dismay. He lets out a soft whine before returning to his posture to normal. 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He asks without any heat behind it. For this time of year and time of day, he’s either too soft or tired for it. 

“I was..” You say around your toothbrush before finishing up, going to brush your tongue last. You spit out the last of the water and put your toothbrush back in its holder. “..just before I was going to leave.” 

“Like your foot was going out the door?” He asks as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Again, there’s no malice in his tone or anything. He wishes you woke him up, but that’s a hard enough feat on a weekend. Oftentimes he wants to rub your shoulders before you even think about moving. 

“Probably.” You say with a brandish smile. You take out your compact and do something quick about the lack of life you have around your eyes. Ooh, shimmery. 

You pin your hair out of your face and tie it up accordingly, then pin your hat on before turning to him with a soft, glossed smile. He doesn’t look as nearly as awake as you do, but, you feel the way he looks. You give him a kiss so that your lips match his, then smile even harder. 

“You should have told them no,” He mumbles out as you leave the bathroom in search of your shoes. “you have a shift later today anyways, so like…” Steve says as he follows you. 

“Yes, but there was a bus crash, and I’m getting paid overtime.” You explain gently as you tie your shoes. You feel your stomach gurgle and growl as you bend to do so, and Steve just can’t have that. 

“Want me to make you something to eat before you leave?” He asks softly, his hand going to the small of your back as you finish the bow.

“Mm.. Something quick. I’m supposed to be there soon.” You say softly as you rub the back of your neck. You feel a kind hand on you, a wave of disappointment, and then hear the sounds of socked feet out of the bedroom, then down the hallway. You stifle a laugh when you hear a thud, and a soft “Ow” come from your significant other. 

One more look over in the mirror later, you’re walking out of your bedroom. You have that awful feeling that you’re forgetting something before you spot your bag on the counter. You smile at Steve and the way he’s standing in front of the toaster like he’s the one that’s running late. 

“Thank you, honey.” You say softly, mirroring his pose. You quit the getup soon enough and go to return some of his clinginess from this morning. Your lips leave behind a glossy ghost on his neck, but he doesn’t wipe it away. 

He grumbles something in response to your words of gratitude, and you only smile wider. You consider sneaking him into work with you. Men can be nurses now, right? You ask yourself. You press a few more kisses to his cheek and neck for good measure before pulling away, still smiling. 

In the dim kitchen light, you trace the shapes on his face with your eyes. The points of his nose, the angle of his jaw. You feel a pit well in your chest when you realize that you have to leave for work in just a few minutes. He’s so kind to you, that you start to feel guilty. You know that he probably wants you back in bed, even more than you do but… duty calls. 

Sooner than later, he has a plate with peanut butter toast and a banana on the side. You eat it happily, but carefully (so as to not stain your uniform), and make sure that you don't have any stray crumbs on your face, or starched whites before you leave. You make light conversation, ask what the rest of his plans for the day are, and put your plate in the dishwasher. 

You make sure that he knows you love him, and that you’ll stay safe. You try to call him once you get to work, but there’s no answer. You smile to yourself, knowing he’s asleep in some uncomfortable position on the couch. You carry on with your day and count the minutes until you get home. (540 and counting.)

[gilverrwrites]

Take your mind off it

Tim Drake/Reader, 750 words A/N: This is an amalgamation of 2 requests, one for Tim gently eating out his people-pleasing gf, the other for Tim eating out his gf to comfort them after a rough day. I also want Tim between my legs carnally so I can't fault you. Though I've gotta say, Tim is one hell of a hypocrite. He might not be a people-pleaser, but he sure as hell take on to much work and suffers in silence about it. Warnings: Very minor mention of overstim.

The mattress creaks under Tim’s weight as he crawls over you. He’s naked and damp from his post-patrol shower, dark hair scraped back away from his face, cheeks reddened from the steam, and lips pressed into a frown as he examines your heavy eyes and bitten lips.

“What are you still doing up?” It’s not that he isn’t happy to see you still awake. The city had been quiet tonight and he’d been hoping to find you awake if only to help let off some pent-up energy, but he can tell just by looking at you that something is wrong.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” You sigh, a smile cracking on your lips as Tim plants his hands on either side of your head and leans in for a kiss.

His breath is hot on your skin, but after a moment cooled remnants of his wash begin to drip onto your skin making you writhe from the ticklish sensation. You try to bat him away, but he remains firm, eventually grabbing your wrists and pinning them to your pillow. He hovers over you, watching you through wispy, envy-inducing lashes as you struggle to escape his grasp.

“Why can't you sleep?” He quizzes, look on his face tells you he already has the answer. “Have you been overthinking again?”

That knowing expression twists, becoming playfully smug as you sheepishly nod, admitting defeat. His grip doesn’t falter, but eventually, his manner softens as you fill him in on the day you've had. He kisses your neck as you lament about how you’ve once again stretched yourself thin trying to do everything for everyone. His hands slip beneath your sleepwear, and he savours the way your voice hitches as you admit that you’ve no idea how you’ll keep all the promises you’ve made. The problems are so quintessentially you, he can’t help the affectionately sly smirk that spreads across his lips as he starts to kiss his way down your chest.

“You need to learn to say no.” He scolds quietly before hooking his fingers into your bottoms, and without hesitation you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them from you. It should go without saying but he feels the need to tack on; “Not now though! Unless you don’t want to, but I really think that right now you need to relax. Things won’t seem so dire if you get some rest and take your mind off it.”

“You’re right.” You hate to admit it.

Only because he always responds quickly with; “I’m always right.”

There’s no time to dwell on it, however. The moment Tim starts to inch between your legs, you spread them without hesitation, a shiver rolling up your spine when you feel his thumb brush gently along your slit. He rolls the calloused bed against your clit with paper-light pressure until you start to roll your hips, silently begging for more.

You’re in no state to be goaded, so he doesn’t make you wait any longer; quickly sinking his thumb between your lips and into your entrance in one quick movement before putting his mouth to good use. There’s no teasing, no clever comments, just Tim, watching you through adoring blue eyes as he laps at your cunt.

He starts slow, lolling his flat tongue against your clit in lazy, slow motions, soaking up your juices and thoroughly enjoying the way his satisfied groans make you grip his wet hair harder and harder with every hum.

His cock is rock-hard. Unconsciously, he ruts it against your shared bed-sheets but primarily he keeps his focus solely on your clit, fucking your tight pussy with his thumb in short, relaxed pumps between sucking and licking at your sensitive bud to ensure your stimulation. When you start to really squirm, he ups his tempo, locking his free arm over your stomach and chasing after you when you begin to lift your hips. He all but purrs into your heated sex when your grasp in his roots tightens, the resulting vibrations push you over the edge.

You shut your eyes tight, pussy constricting even tighter around his thumb as you reach your climax, but Tim’s eyes are wide open, focused on your blissful face and the way you call his name as your legs shake and your core gushes down his neck. He keeps you in his grip, working at your cunt until your body falls limp, legs still twitching as he boarders overstimulating you. Your answer to his next question will be the deciding factor on whether he crosses that line. “What are you thinking about now?”

[kotegiris]

[Card Story - Boschi] Way of Resistance

thanks to a friend of mine for sharing this card story with me!

Chapters 1 & 2

Chapter 1

※ Warning: This butler story contains spoilers for the event story “The Herald of Dawn”.

It is recommended to read up to chapter 9 of the event story before reading this.

For lords who are avoiding spoilers, please hit the button in the upper left corner to return.

………

At the request of the Grovaner family, we came to Slick.

The request was to find a man named Leo Force and dismantle the mafia.

A variety of circumstances led to us taking down a different mafia group… And now we are waiting for contact from Leo and his group.

But in the midst of that… Boschi and I were facing a crisis.

Mafia Men: Hehe, to think that we’d find you so soon.

Mafia Men: A new mafia group that crushed that large group… We have to strike before it’s too late, don’t we?

Mafia Men: That’s right. I’ll be taking the head of your boss right here and now.

Boschi stood protectively in front of me and confronted the men face-to-face.

Boschi: (Damn it… So they’re after Aruji-sama.)

Boschi: (I won’t lose even if I’m outnumbered, but…)

Boschi: (I don’t want to take any risks when it comes to Aruji-sama’s safety.)

Boschi: (I’ll have to watch their movements and be careful when attacking…)

Mafia Men: Hey now, don’t tell me… Are you getting scared?

Mafia Men: Then, don’t mind if we make the first move!

Boschi: Tch…!

Weapons in hand, the men sprung at Boschi.

Using his sword, Boschi knocked out countless of them.

Boschi: Come at me!

Thud

Mafia Men: Urgg…! This guy’s ridiculously strong…!

Mafia Men: Don’t let your guard down! We’ll beat him through numbers!

Boschi: (Tch… They’re weak, but there’s a lot of them…)

Boschi: (Since we’re fighting in an open space, it’s a big area I have to keep an eye on… One misstep will be dangerous…!)

Mafia Men: Bastard… Just drop dead!

Boschi: That’s my line!

Thud

Mafia Men: Ugaah…!

Boschi: (Damn it, they just keep on coming like cockroaches… How many of them are there…!?)

While being protected and hiding behind Boschi’s back… Someone suddenly pulled my arm.

> Wha…?

Mafia Men: Hahaha! Your boss’s head is mine!

Boschi: …!? Aruji-sama!!

In the next moment, the man that pulled my arm… Was struck in the wrist with a scabbard by Boschi.

Then, just as the man released my arm… Boschi kicked the man, and his body hit the ground.

Boschi: Hah… hah…

Boschi: Looks like he was the last of them…

Boschi: My bad… I wasn’t paying attention.

> Boschi, are you okay?

Boschi: Huh? That’s my line.

Boschi: Are you okay, Boss? Did he leave any marks where he grabbed you?

> I’m alright.

Boschi: Good… But it must have been scary, right?

Boschi: Let’s head back for the day. They’re knocked out, but who knows when they’ll wake up.

> G-Got it.

And so we safely got through the crisis and returned to the hotel.

【Slick - Hotel】

Afterwards we arrived at the hotel with no issues.

But rather than looking relieved… Boschi had a slightly serious expression.

Boschi: ……

> Boschi, what’s wrong?

Boschi: Oh… I was just thinking about the attack from earlier.

Boschi: I turned my attention away from you even if it was just for a moment… I’m reflecting on that.

> But you still protected me.

Boschi: …Yeah.

Boschi: But… It doesn’t change the fact that your arm was grabbed.

Boschi: I’m thinking about how careless I was.

Boschi: The fact that something like that happened today… Maybe it’s time to take a different approach.

Boschi: Fighting isn’t the only thing I can do to protect you.

Boschi: For your sake… I’ll do everything I can…

Boschi mumbled as if he was speaking to himself.

Boschi: Anyways… Today must have been rough for you, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: I’ll take you to your room, so get some rest.

Boschi: I’ll let the other butlers know about today's attack.

> Okay.

【Hotel - Bedroom】

-That night-

Knock, knock…

Boschi: Aruji-sama. Can I come in?

> Come in. > It’s open.

Opens

Boschi: Evening, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: It’s been a few hours since the attack earlier today, but… How’s your arm?

> It’s alright.

Boschi: I see… I’m glad.

Boschi: But just to be on the safe side, could you show it to me?

> Yeah.

I rolled up my sleeve and showed it to him.

There weren’t really any marks from where the man grabbed me.

Boschi: …At least it doesn’t seem injured. For now, I can relax.

Boschi: If he left marks on your arm… I’d probably get revenge on them.

> D-Don’t do that.

Boschi: Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t go out of my way to make contact with the guys who attacked us.

While saying that, Boschi rolled my sleeve back down… And gently massaged my arm over the fabric of my sleeve.

Then… He casted his eyes slightly downwards and mumbled something as if he made up his mind.

Boschi: I want to say that there’s no need for you to have a weapon, but…

Boschi: This too… Is to protect the kind you.

> Huh?

Boschi gently put my arm down and… Taking something out from his breast pocket, he set it on the table.

It had a dull shine to it, but it was unmistakably a knife.

Boschi: Aruji-sama, you might still be feeling shaken from the attack earlier, but…

Boschi: I’m gonna teach you some self-defense now.

Boschi: I’ll do anything to keep you safe.

Boschi: …That’s what I’ve decided.

Boschi’s eyes were sharp as he said this to me.

On the desk, the sharp knife’s blade glinted.

Chapter 2

The knife on the table dully glinted.

Boschi said he’d teach me self-defense.

I wondered if he planned on having me attack our enemies with a blade.

As I nervously stared at the knife… With a serious expression, Boschi opened his mouth.

Boschi: …Don’t worry, it’s not a real knife.

Boschi: Of course, maybe in the future… I’ll have you carry around a real knife.

I made no moves to pick up the knife, but Boschi continued speaking.

Boschi: …The other butlers might never tell you something like this, but… I’m not like them.

Boschi: I… I want you to have the strength to protect yourself.

Boschi: Of course, like we’ve always done… We’ll keep protecting you even at the cost of our lives.

Boschi: But just in case… There’s no harm in you learning how to fight.

Boschi: Being on the offense isn’t the best way to defend yourself, but… Maybe one day it’ll help save you.

Boschi: That’s why I prepared this fake knife.

Boschi: Teaching you how to use a knife… This is all to protect you.

> Boschi…

I knew that Boschi was being serious, but… I still couldn’t bring myself to reach for the knife.

I’m sure he intended on teaching me hands on how to use a blade.

If he teaches me how… Maybe the day when I’ll hurt someone will eventually come…

That frightened me.

Boschi: …… I know you're hesitant.

Boschi: But let me say this.

Boschi: Learning how to use a blade… Is also a way of protecting all the butlers.

> Protecting everyone…?

Boschi: Yeah.

Boschi: If we were being attacked by enemies…

Boschi: The butlers would definitely focus on you.

Boschi: Which means that… Our attention is turned away from the enemy in front of us.

Boschi: The chances of them taking advantage of that split second isn’t zero.

Boschi: Even if there’s only a one in a million chance of us losing to a human… I can’t say that it’ll never happen.

Boschi: So if you learn how to fight… You could end up saving our lives one day.

> Saving everyone…

I looked at the knife lying on the table once more.

The dull glint still scared me a little, but… If I picked it up, could I protect the butlers?

While I cautiously stared at the knife, Boschi quietly called out to me.

Boschi: Aruji-sama, I hope you’re not misunderstanding, but…

Boschi: When I said, “You could end up saving our lives”... I wasn’t trying to scare you into taking the knife.

Boschi: By taking the knife, you can protect us. I just wanted to give you that option.

Boschi: But if… If you’re really scared of taking it, it’s okay to say no.

Boschi: If it becomes a burden to you, then… It’s better not to take it.

Boschi: You’re gentle, so teaching you how to use a weapon is… Even I know that’s asking for a lot.

Boschi: If it becomes a burden, then… I’ll find a different way that suits you more.

To the me who was hesitating to take the knife, he gave me a way to back out.

It was unmistakably because of his kind consideration for me.

For the kind him and the other butlers… I want to protect them.

With those thoughts, I picked up the knife.

> Teach me how to use it, Boschi

Boschi: Aruji-sama… Are you really okay with this?

> Everyone’s important to me. I want to protect everyone.

Boschi: I see… Thanks for being brave.

Boschi: I’m guessing your motivation comes from… This being a way to protect us, huh?

Boschi: You really do care about us.

> Of course I do.

Boschi: Ha, that was a quick response.

You seem eager enough.

Boschi: Then, Aruji-sama… Let’s start your self-defense training.

Boschi: Today I’ll teach you the important basics. Make sure your head and body remember them.

> G-Got it!

And so, my self-defense training by Boschi began.

-A little later-

After that, Boschi earnestly taught me.

Boschi: So… That’s what you should do if your wrist is grabbed.

Boschi: Alright, Aruji-sama… Let’s try practicing now.

> Yeah!

Boschi quickly grabbed my hand, and I shook him off with minimal effort.

Thanks to him being a good teacher… I became able to do it reflexively.

> How’s that?

Boschi: You’re doing well. You’ve been able to do everything I’ve said.

Boschi: Next… Let’s try putting it to practical use.

> Practical use?

Boschi: Yeah. I’m gonna teach you a judo technique for restraining someone.

Boschi: It’s a bit difficult, but… If you do it right, it’ll stop your opponent from moving.

Boschi: First, I’ll show you how effective it is… I’ll do it on you.

Boschi: And using the knife you have… Try your best to break free.

Boschi: By doing this, you’ll also learn how your opponent will react to this technique.

> I’ll do my best.

Boschi: Nice response. Alright, let’s get started.

Boschi: Hold their left arm like this and tighten your hold…

Boschi: …Here!

The moment he said that… My body was completely stopped by Boschi.

I immediately tried to shake him off… But I was no match for his strength.

Realizing that I couldn’t do anything… He finally released his hold.

> (I-It’s finally over…)

But then… Before I knew it, I was lying on my back.

> Huh…?

I could see the ceiling behind Boschi… Who was hovering over me.

I finally realized that… He had pushed me onto the bed.

Boschi: Geez… You were distracted, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: If you don’t pay attention, you’ll be cornered like this.

> U-Uhm…

While still pinning me down, his sharp eyes looked at me.

Boschi: So, what will you do now? Do your best to resist.

Although I was overwhelmed by this situation… I managed to pull my knife out from my breast pocket.

But I was hesitant to point the blade at him and couldn’t move fast enough.

I only hesitated for a moment, but Boschi didn’t miss it. He snatched my knife away and threw it on the floor.

> Ah…

Boschi: Now even your weapon is useless, but… You won’t just give up like this, will you?

Boschi: Come on… Let me see you struggle ‘til the end.

Saying this, he tightened his hold on me.

I knew that everything, his actions and words, was all for the sake of protecting me, but…

Being conscious of how we were closer than usual filled me with a different kind of nervousness.

> (H-He’s so close…!?)

Boschi: ……!

He must have noticed that I was acting strange…

He helped me sit up on the bed.

My face was still red, and I said nothing. Boschi stared at me with an apologetic look.

Boschi: …My bad, Aruji-sama.

Boschi: Even if it was training to protect you… I was too aggressive.

Boschi: And more importantly… I scared you.

Boschi: …I’m sorry.

> Boschi…

He looked somewhat frustrated apologizing to me.

Could it be that… He was angry with himself for scaring me?

When he was pinning me down… I felt shy, but not scared.

Boschi’s actions and words… I knew that he was doing it all to protect me.

I wanted to tell him that. I softly called out to him.

> I wasn’t scared.

Boschi: Aruji-sama…?

I wanted to tell him everything that I was feeling.

That I wasn’t scared, just shy…

I needed to muster the courage to say it out loud, but… No matter what, I wanted to tell him since he’s always so earnest when it comes to me.

> I wasn’t scared.

Boschi: Aruji-sama…

> And…

I didn’t want to point a knife at him… Even if I knew it was a fake one.

I didn’t want to direct a weapon at someone dear to me… When I told him this, his eyes became wide as if he was surprised.

Then… He gently smiled while gazing at me.

Boschi: Phew… So that’s what you were thinking.

> I’m not lying.

Boschi: Yeah, I know.

Boschi: I also know how much you care for me…

Boschi: …Thank you, Aruji-sama.

While saying that, Boschi began to gently stroke my head.

> B-Boschi…?

Seeing me confused… Boschi happily smiled as if to clear up the serious atmosphere.

Boschi: What is it, Aruji-sama? You can resist if you don’t like it, you know?

Boschi: I just taught you a technique to do so after all.

Boschi’s smile as he said this was mischievous, but… His hands felt gentle.

It was a bit embarrassing letting him stroke my head, but it felt very nice… I didn’t want to shake off his hand.

END