#I have thought about this too much today save me-

[dexxtrosee]

Safekeeping

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader

Summary: A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.

A/N: Set a few months after the last episode of The Pitt's S1. Mind you, this was supposed to be me testing the waters with the fandom and instead I got dunked, I just can't get this man out of my head. Oh well. Part one, I guess?

There´s a baby crying two rooms away from the one he’s at. 

The baby hasn’t stopped crying in thirty minutes, a world of difference from the case Robby is currently using as a teaching lesson for Santos and Whitaker. He doesn’t need to be a genius in emotional expression to notice she’s bored to death, while Whitaker seems relieved to be away from an immediate life threatening situation for once. He won’t admit it, not even to Dana, but he is using it as both a punishment for her and a break for him. He barely got between her and an abusive mother just a few hours ago before they drew blood. He managed to save Santos from being escorted out in cuffs along with the mother by sheer force of willpower and some favors owed by the cops.

And he won’t say it to her either, but if he were thirty years younger and a tad more stupid, that would have been him. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Are you a smoker, miss Rossi?”

The lady, a seventy year old woman who insists on them calling her miss, because she’s “divorced, dammit”, shakes her head and turns to look at her granddaughter. Robby can practically hear her thoughts (Can you believe this boy?) and has to bite back a chuckle. 

“Do you, by any chance, often cook on firewood?”

Miss Rossi shakes her head again, this time with an added eye roll. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

Whitaker is starting to play with his hands, glancing nervously at the granddaughter and at Santos. The boredom seems to have eased a bit, now replaced by amusement from seeing the poor boy suffer. Robby doesn’t interfere. 

“Have you done strenuous activity recently?”

At this, the teenage girl sitting by her side perks up, glancing at her grandmother with pursed lips. Robby smiles when Whitaker catches it and latches onto it like a starved animal. 

“Maybe cleaning around the house? Too long walks? Heavy lifting?”

Miss Rossi finally seems to think about it. Santos starts fidgeting where she’s standing, checking her watch. He suppresses a sigh and writes a mental note about mentioning it to her. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

“Well, I went with the kids to the park this morning. Had to chase them around when they grabbed the youngest and put her inside the basket of one of the bikes! Can you believe it? Those fuckers.”

They all let out some chuckles and sighs of relief. 

“Are you from Allegheny, miss Rossi?”

She nods, smiling for the first time since they both got here. “Born and raised, boy.”

Robby nods at him, giving him a thumbs up. Santos tries to hide her own smile. 

“Alright, seems you can handle this one.” Robby glares briefly at Santos, and she nods with so much annoyance he shakes his head. “I’ll go check on other cases, call me if anything happens.”

He doesn’t wait to see the answers, just steps out and walks straight to the room with the crying baby. 

Before he enters, he notices Dana standing inside and talking softly to, he assumes, the mother. She has her back to him, shoulders shaking and head hung low. Samira and McKay are bent over a cradle. A hole inside his stomach appears when he notices how anxious they both seem to be. 

“Good morning, I’m doctor Robinavitch. What seems to be the problem here?”

Dana turns, frowning and looking at him like he’s the worst thing to happen to her today. He reels back slightly, tries to peek behind her back. She shakes her head, motions him to fuck off. 

McKay doesn’t move. Samira stands up straight like he just pulled her back string, nervous. “All good, sir. We can handle this one, no worries.”

Robby frowns, bites back the need to tell them all off. “Well, that poor thing hasn’t stopped crying in more than half an hour. Are you sure?”

McKay waves at him from her bent position, shaking her head furiously without actually turning to look at him. 

Without saying anything, he turns to Dana again. She sighs, lets go of the mother’s hands and pushes him out of the room with no explanation. Before she closes back the curtain, he tries and fails to catch a glance at the mother.

“What the fuck is going on?”

He loves Dana, he truly does. Still, sometimes he wishes he could work with someone less hardheaded. He has enough of it in himself.

“She doesn’t want any men near her baby.”

Robby tilts his head, frowns deeper. “Should I call the cops?”

Something inside him burns and itches when Dana shakes her head. “They’re already aware of anything worth reporting.”

Robby nods, clenches his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when the baby lets out a louder cry. “What the hell is wrong then? They haven’t figured it out yet? Should I bring Collins here?”

She’s busy dealing with a broken leg from a teenage boy that got too excited with his skateboard, but the cries are starting to get on everyone’s nerves, he can see it. 

“Maybe you should, yeah.”

“Fuck.”

He turns away, walks to Langdon and grabs him away from the nurse bay. He doesn’t protest, hasn’t since he came back last month. It still weirds Robby out. 

“I need you to finish Collins’ case, she has to help out with a different one.”

“I can do it,” The need for approval drips from his words. It still twists Robby’s chest. He shakes his head, doesn’t explain, pushes him inside and motions Collins out with just a smile to the parents.

“Need you to help in Room Two, I’m sorry.”

She gets it immediately, smiles softly and nods. She’s trying again, Robby knows. Still, he’s tried his best to keep her away from any babies. 

When they go back, Dana steps out and grabs Robby. He lets her lead him to the corner between rooms, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere near the baby unless it’s completely necessary, I know. What now?”

“She wants to talk to you.”

The mother, he guesses. He nods, interlaces his fingers and then unthreads them when he notices how tense he feels from it. 

“Just… be gentle, Robby. She looks six seconds away from throwing up out of stress.”

There are so many things he could say to that. Instead, he just nods. Dana goes inside, doesn’t come out again.

When the mom steps out, the first thing that crosses his mind is “wow, holy shit”.

Then he starts berating himself because, holy fuck, what the hell was that?

You take a few steps closer to him, playing with your fingers, and cleaning a few stray tears away from your face. His hands twitch by his sides.

“Hi.”

Dear God, take him now. Warmth spreads all over his chest when your voice reaches his ears. 

“Hello,” he starts. He has to clear his throat before continuing. “Dana mentioned you wanted to talk to me, I’m doctor Robinavitch. Or Doctor Robby, if you prefer.”

You nod, trying and failing to smile at him. “Nice to meet you. Are you… like, the boss around here?”

He nods, unsure of how you may react. He doesn’t notice any disgust or annoyance, but there’s no positive reaction either. He relaxes his shoulders and makes sure to leave his hands visible. 

“Indeed I am. What can I do for you?”

He has to hold his breath when you raise your head to look at him straight to his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Can you make sure no male nurses or doctors come near her?”

Irrationally, he wants to sit you down and make you spit out any and all information about your baby. Why you seem so scared one second and ready for combat the next, why your eyes are so pretty, why you don’t let him near the babygirl.

Instead, he just nods, asks softly “Is there anything or anyone we should be worried about?” 

You shake your head, give him a satisfied smile that seems to pull the ground from under him. “No, not anymore.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He feels lightheaded, unsure of where he stands. You tilt your head slightly, then jump when Collins comes out. He realizes now that the crying stopped. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can we have a word?”

Your face falls. It makes him irrationally mad, wants to twist the world around until you’re smiling again. He doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”

Collins puts her hand on your hand in an effort to comfort you, shaking her head. He glares at her hand like it personally offended him. “Nothing serious, it seems like she just had an allergic reaction to formula. Could you tell me which one she's taking?”

It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air as soon as there’s something related to the baby anywhere near you. You turn around, back to him while you pull up a picture in your phone and show it to Heather. She nods and smiles, letting you know it’s nothing too bad. He notices your entire body relaxing, and the tips of his ears turn red. 

“So what should I do at home now?”

The anxiety you exude makes him tense, almost angry. He’s bothered by not being able to get an actual look at the situation, relegated to talking to you only and away from what seems to be the center of your universe. He takes a deep breath to try and push out the uncomfortable feeling of uselessness.

“We would like to keep her here, at least for today just to keep an eye on how she reacts with different formulas, and maybe give her some fluids in case she’s dehydrated.” Heather’s voice is tender, gentle in a way he’s not sure he could manage now, not after so many years of hoping it would help and seeing it turn people into aggressive maniacs. 

But you just nod, pocketing your phone before turning back to look at him again and knocking the air out of his lungs. 

He's sure he's earned his year in Hell when faint excitement blooms as he realizes you'll be around for a few hours. He doesn't understand what's happening, why he's acting like a teenage boy with a crush or a fresh student handling his first case with an attractive person. Fuck. Fuck.

“Can you make sure the people from other shifts respect what I ask?”

He’s already mentally preparing his speech for Jack. “Of course. And I’ll see if we can keep you here along with your baby, just to be safe.” 

You beam at him, and once again, he feels like the Earth tilts under him. “Thank you, doctor Robby.”

He notices Dana staring at him from inside the room, grinning.

Oh, he’s absolutely fucked.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

AO3

[lateatnewyork]

WHAT LIKE ITS HARD?… | 001

pairing: lando norris x reader

extra info: established relationship, reader is poc, lewis hamiltons niece (mum not specified, dad mentioned like once)

warnings: suggestive

fc: anyone and everyone

liked by landonorris, yourmumuser and 146,382 others ynln making legal moves ig 🤷‍♀️ view comments

user34 YN WE NEED YOU BACK AT THE PADDOCK ➥ ynln IM COMING IM COMING ➥ landonorris thats what she said ➥ ynln im gonna tell uncle lew to run you off the track ➥ zakbrown fredvasseur pls tell her not to ➥ fredvasseur i saw nothing lewishamilton ynln ➥ oscarpiastri you’re done mate landonorris maxfewtrell i wonder who took the middle pic 🤔 ➥ ynln mb sorry pietra ➥ maxfewtrell i hate you. ➥ ynln i luv p ❤️ kimiantonelli HI YN ➥ ynln HI KIMI lewishamilton im telling your mum ➥ yourmumuser i already know lewis ➥ ynln TAKE THAT

liked by ynln, flonorris and 649,721 others landonorris love at full throttle ? view comments

user76 IM SORRY I WAS UNAWARE OF YOUR GAME oscarpiastri mate you’re going to get beat for that picture ➥ landonorris thanks for your concern osc maxverstappen any chance you retire from the race ➥ landonorris depends what am i getting ➥ maxverstappen unlimited time with your gf ? ➥ landonorris BET ➥ zakbrown lando answer your phone right now charlesleclerc I KNOW WHO IT IS ➥ alexalbon ME 2️⃣ ➥ georgerussell ME 3️⃣ ➥ carlossainz ME 4️⃣ ➥ maxfewtrell ME 5️⃣ ➥ oscarpiastri me 6️⃣ ➥ pierregasly ME 7️⃣ ➥ lewishamilton hey i wanna know too pierregasly LOVE IS IN THE AIRRRR

liked by lilyzneimer, danielricciardo and 562,973 others ynln hung out with my favourite aussies today oh and my boyfriend ig view comments

maxfewtrell hes gonna crash out when he sees this lilyzneimer MY FAVOURITE BRIT oh and your bf ➥ ynln MY FAVOURITE AUSSIE oh and osc ig ➥ oscarpiastri i literally bought you candy ➥ ynln and u stole lily from me ?? ➥ lilyzneimer 😞😞 ➥ oscarpiastri YOU GUYS MET BCOS OF ME ?? ➥ landoscfan rare oscar crash out georgerussell can confirm your bf is mad ➥ ynln welp at least he’ll be rough ➥ alexalbon WHAT ➥ pierregasly my eyes have been cursed danielricciardo you guys are so disgustingly in love ➥ ynln bros js jealous i stole his man landonorris i heard you’re boyfriend is actually an amazing person ➥ ynln oh where’d you find that out

liked by f1gossip, f1wags and 837, 730 others deuxmoi YN LN and Lando Norris spotted getting intimate after a wag party. view comments

user83 this seems like an invasion of privacy ➥ user91 because it is 😭 lewishamilton oh my god ➥ georgerussell well shes done for ynln what the fuck bro, this is a clear invasion of privacy and harassment not to mention trespassing since we were way inside my fathers estate in australia. i suggest you take this post down right now before you get sued. unless you want to go to court against me. ➥ landonorris im hard. ➥ maxfewtrell ok what the heck lando ➥ carlossainz lando i cannot save you from this

this post is now deleted

liked by ynln, lilymhe and 937,481 others landonorris you can cross examine me anytime… as long as it’s in the bedroom. view comments

ynln did you search up lawyer pick up lines? ➥ landonorris maybe ? ➥ ynln I LOVE YOU SO MUCH alexalbon your honour hes insanely down bad ➥ landonorris it’s ok i have a lawyer lewishamilton if he does anything im going to run him off track mclaren have to admit tho lily and yn are best couple ➥ lilyzneimer I AGREE ➥ ynln ADMIN KNOWS WHATS UP ➥ landonorris oh ➥ oscarpiastri oh charlesleclerc i knew about this ➥ georgerussell same ➥ maxverstappen same ➥ alexalbon same ➥ carlossainz same ➥ fernandoalonso same ➥ lancestroll same ➥ maxfewtrell same ➥ jackdoohan same ➥ gabrielbortoleto same ➥ kimiantonelli same ➥ olliebearman same ➥ liamlawson same ➥ isackhadjar same ➥ lewishamilton AND NONE OF YOU THOUGHT TO TELL ME ???? yourmumuser awww you guys are so cute ❤️ by author & ynln ciscanorris if you ever break her heart lando ➥ ynln DW IF HE DOES ILL SUE HIM ➥ flonorris and mum can adopt you 🙏 ➥ adamnorris yes great plan ➥ landonorris guys wtf

liked by landonorris, flonorris and others ynln can the helmet stay on next time 🤤 view comments

lewishamilton YN WHAT IS THIS ➥ yourmumuser oh calm down lewis you were worse maxfewtrell did not need to see this danielricciardo is that chest hair i see ➥ landonorris i have pubes now 🙏 ➥ ynln can confirm lilyzneimer i wonder who took the middle pic ??? ➥ ynln my lovely gf 🥰 ➥ landonorris what lilymhe no way that pulled you ➥ ynln no way alex pulled you ➥ alexalbon WHY AM I CATCHING STRAYS flonorris im gonna pretend i didn’t see the caption ➥ yourmumuser me too ➥ ciscanorris and me ➥ ynln IT WAS LANDOS IDEA ➥ landonorris IT LITERALLY WASNT

a/n guess who’s back

[eml0tz]

Pretty kitty 🐾

a/n: okay.. so.. I haven’t posted in forever and now I’ve changed who I write for…. So now I’m obsessed with Logan thank you!! And now not a lot of people at writing for him, so I’ve decided to take a stand and write for him, my writing is probably very shit say what you want. AND PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS AGHHH

I’m not reading it until I’m horny because I wrote this whole thing then it wouldnt let me save it then I had to restart the app AND IT GOT RID OF IT SO IM SORRY BUT I CANT

WARNINGS: belly bulge, breeding kink, reader didn’t consent verbally but she wants it! Humiliation? I guess not rlly lmk if I miss anything

SMUT UNDER CUT

When Wade invited Logan to live in a cramped apartment with the knowledge of Althea, Wade and now him and a dog living there it seemed to be too much and too small for him, but when Wade mentioned ‘pet sitting’ he thought I would be the ugly dog wade decided to bring back with him.

That was until he saw you curled up in a ball on the couch, Wade had told him about you, that you were a cat mutant and that you had instincts like him, Logan already knew wade didn’t need to tell him.

But what Logan didn’t know was the instincts just made you more cat-like, like Logan’s made him violent, confused or even feral, but no, you were playful, curious, sneaky, more of a night owl, and non verbal.

Today was a day where wade had ‘forced’ Logan to ‘pet-sit’ you.

He was sitting on the couch his arm over the back of it as he channel surfed, he started to wonder where you had scrambled off to, and since wade had told him that your instincts were at max today

He clicked his tongue as he let out a low whistle

“Pss, kitty” he called for you in his gravelly voice as he quirked an eyebrow looking around the apartment

He heard a few crashes as you ran around the apartment scaring the dog on the way he let out a low chuckled watching you darted around before jumping up onto the couch next to him.

He saw what wade was talking about how you could see what state you were in, your pupils were dilated basically pitch black except for the sliver of iris around the edge

“Hey kitty” he said as he chuckled lowly

You mewled sitting in his lap rubbing your head against his chest, he ran his hand down your back, you arched into his touch causing him to chuckle lowly

Just before he realised, a sweet smell hit him as-well as your dark eyes as your silky tail swaying in the air

Heat.

He wasn’t mad, hell no, he was glad, he was happy that he wasnt the only one with these urges and he was happy that he was the one who could help you, he might have a soft spot for you but he wouldn’t admit it

“Hey, kitty? Are you in.. heat?” He hesitantly asked, cautious of how you may act if he knew

You mewled rubbing your head against his as your tail swayed

He watched you as he thought

“Would you like me to help you bub?” He asked, he was already worked up by your sweet smell his boner rubbing against his jeans

You mewled loudly pawing at his chest as your tail swayed quicker

He chuckled as he removed his throbbing cock out of his jeans and boxers

You stared at him, his tip red and angry as his cock spat out pre cum from the slit, it was girthy and long

He smirked slightly as he helped remove your shirt and panties in one go you lifted your hips to help him

He held your hips moving you to hover over his cock, he stared at your glistening pussy as he lined himself up to your entrance.

Logan let out a sharp exhale as you sunk your tight pussy onto his cock, you moaned loudly squirming on his lap

He groaned lowly at her movements, he didn’t catch something in the corner of his eye as you moved, your lower stomach showed how big he was, his cock was basically bulging out of your lower abdomen, before you could do anything he pushed against the bulge as he set a brutal pace up into your pussy

You moaned loudly as you pushed your hips down onto his, he let out a low moan as you moved

It was rough, raw, intense, and passionate, two animals fucking like it was the end of the world

Although your loud moan interrupted you both of your from your pleasure, he understood why you were so loud when he felt your wet pussy flutter around him, he held onto your hips pulling you back down onto his cock your pussy spasming around him before she gushed around him

She collapsed onto him hearing her juices splash onto Logan, the couch and the wooden floor

You both moaned as you panted holding onto Logan as you trembled from your high, the sounds of your loud, quick breaths drowned out the noise of wade coming home

Logan moaned pulling your hips down onto his as he thrusted up filling your sweet pussy with his cum, his cock throbbing as he spurted his release into your hole

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Wade..

[arabella0001]

Hiiii

Reminder for kakashi x foreign fem story

Please pls 🥺

finally FINALLY i finished

｡˚ fandom: naruto

pairing: kakashi hatake x reader

request scenario: kakashi is falling in love with a refugee civillian who doesn't speak konoha's language

cn: slow burn, lots of fluff, loss of virginity. over 6k words

༄

After the war, Tsunade was more than happy to hand over the Hokage position to Kakashi. Especially knowing just how much he didn’t want it. Tormenting him over and over again with mundane tasks—after all, she knew what it was like to have a mountain of paperwork stacked on your desk from morning to night.

As Kakashi skimmed through the documents, one finger pressed between his brows from stress, he sensed Tsunade’s presence before she even entered. It’s not like he didn’t already know the rhythm of her footsteps.

“What a lovely day to be Hokage, don’t you think, Kakashi?”

You followed her into the office slowly, hands folded in front of you, gaze slightly lowered.

“Ha-ha, really funny, Tsunade. Sure you don’t mind switching pla—”

But the words caught on his tongue as his eyes lifted—at first set on Tsunade—until he saw you, standing just behind her.

Tsunade gave him an almost wicked smile, bringing her hands together like she was about to applaud.

“Today, we have a new visitor. Or should I say… a new member of the village.”

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. Who are you?

He couldn’t quite see your face—not until you lifted it, leaving him utterly speechless.

No, he didn’t know you. Hell, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize you if he had. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman more beautiful. Your features were like something out of his grandmother’s stories about angelic beings—not quite human, radiating warmth with every graceful movement, mesmerizing without even trying.

But knowing his nature, Tsunade didn’t catch much of a reaction on his face (well, the half of it not covered by his mask), except for the slight widening of his eyes. She didn’t know that Kakashi’s cheeks had flushed with boyish embarrassment, mercifully hidden. Saving him.

And if his mind wasn’t already halfway to breaking, you started to speak—with a tone so soothing it felt like balm to his soul. He could’ve listened to it forever. Though, oddly, your intonation felt foreign.

You said simply, “Nice to meet you, Hokage.”

Kakashi responded almost instantly, voice flat but carrying a clear eagerness.

“The pleasure is mine.” A short pause. “Who are you?”

As your eyes were still locked on eachother , Tsunade couldn’t help but chuckle, barely managing to snap him out of the trance you’d put him in.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Kakashi. She’s a civilian refugee from the nearby forest. Got separated from her people after the war. She doesn’t speak our language.”

“What?!” Kakashi cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly from how shocked he’d sounded. “Well… that’s a shame. I’ll make sure everything’s arranged so she feels at home here.”

Tsunade answered in a dismissive tone, heading for the door.

“Great. Because I’m leaving her under your responsibility anyway. I’ll only handle her training—her abilities are far too interesting to be taught by anyone other than me.”

But Kakashi didn’t hear anything past the first part. His responsibility? He couldn’t say he was unhappy to hear that. But his primal thoughts responded immediately: How the hell am I supposed to control myself around someone like you every day? Damn it, Tsunade.

You bowed respectfully before following Tsunade out of his office.

Only after you left did Kakashi sink back into his chair, head tilted up as he exhaled deeply, staring blankly at the ceiling.

༄

Kakashi had spent the past few days hunting for a book—any book—that could translate your language into theirs. Not that he cared about the reports piling up on his desk, now doubled in number thanks to his little quest. At least now he’d have a solid excuse when he inevitably asked Tsunade for help.

Or the fact that he’d spent more time reading about your origins than he had with his beloved comfort book, Icha-Icha. Which, frankly, was far more concerning.

He managed to carve out a break in his schedule and made his way toward your group. Kurenai was all smiles (and this time, it wasn’t just because Asuma was sitting beside her, toothpick tucked at the corner of his mouth—a habit he’d picked up to help quit smoking, something he’d promised Kurenai since she became pregnant).

No, her smile was clearly directed at you—you, dressed in something completely unexpected, completely contradictory to what Kakashi had imagined you might wear. A stunning, long dress that looked like it belonged to a fairy. Not that he was complaining—your training clothes, most likely chosen intentionally by Tsunade to distract him even further, already fit you perfectly.

The dark green, form-fitting outfit, complete with empty pockets likely meant for kunai (their weapons stock hadn’t been updated in a month), hugged your body like it was tailored for you.

He struggled to pull his gaze away from you—though you somehow sensed it immediately, your eyes turning toward him first as he approached with calm, measured steps.

Asuma gave Kakashi a slight nod of acknowledgment, accompanied by Kurenai’s warm greeting. Tsunade, hand on her hip, was the first to speak.

“Rough nights, huh?” she remarked, clearly referring to the exhaustion under Kakashi’s eyes—worsened ever since he began researching you far more than he probably should have.

Kakashi just shot her a warning glare, his expression friendly enough for public display, before she continued.

“Looks like our foreigner here has an inclination for medical jutsu. But also… brute force. Ironic, huh? Just like me and Sakura.”

The first one seemed fitting for you. But the second? He couldn’t picture you splitting the earth in two with a single punch. The more he learned about you, the deeper he dug himself into the pit of his barely-contained curiosity.

Still, his voice tried to remain neutral.

“That’s good news.” Then he added, “I found a dictionary translating her language into ours. We’re going to try teaching her to speak it… but also teach ourselves enough to show some respect for her homeland.”

He paused, collecting himself before finally meeting your gaze—those intense, difficult-to-hold eyes—and addressed you, a little uncertain, in your native language.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope we’ll get along well.”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest—not just because you spoke back, but because you smiled for the first time. He didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful… and yet.

You responded with a hint of excitement, your eyes sparkling sweetly.

“Nice to meet you too! I’ll do my best to become one of you. Thank you for welcoming me!”

Well, Kakashi thought, looks like I’m not the only one who made an effort to learn her language.

His eyes softened, reflecting your smile with one of his own—genuine, though subtle.

Neither of you noticed the way the others were watching, a knowing look in their eyes. It was like no one else existed in that moment—just the two of you, with a delicate thread of tension starting to form between your worlds.

But Tsunade had to ruin it, a playful disgust bubbling up inside her at all the sweetness.

“Well, my time here is up. Good luck with your teaching, Hokage.”

She tossed Kakashi a mocking look, while Kurenai and Asuma followed her out—sensing ttoo, that it was probably time to leave.

And in that moment, Kakashi felt just a little helpless, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly before turning to you again.

“Ahm… okay. Let’s find a more comfortable place before I introduce you to Konoha’s world. Come with me.”

You didn’t understand half of what he said—but the tone in his voice was enough for your feet to follow him without question.

༄

Kakashi couldn’t think of anywhere safer to take you than his office. Even though it feels a bit too intimate for him to share his personal space this much, he figures it’s necessary—if he really wants to help you.

“Ahm, tea?” he glances over his shoulder as he pours himself a cup of green tea, gesturing toward the teapot so you understand what he means. You nod in agreement, a small smile playing on your lips as you curiously echo,

“Tea?”

He quickly turns to pour you a cup too, a little flustered by how cute you are in your cluelessness.

He hands it to you while maintaining eye contact. You accept it with a smile. His lips press into a thin line as he awkwardly moves to sit in his chair, shrugging off his Hokage cloak—which he finds a little stupid sometimes wearing it.

He doesn’t realize you’ve had red ears since the moment you walked into the room.

He glances at you again, unsure where to begin. But your curious gaze manages to snap him out of the hypnosis your eyes creates..

“Right, so… we should start with language first.” He looks at you for a second before translating it into your language and writing it on a piece of paper with his pen. You can’t really see from where you’re sitting, and he notices.

“C-come closer.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him, but ends up standing and dragging your chair over himself.

Damn.

He realizes—too late—that this was a mistake. His suspicion is confirmed the second he catches a hint of your scent. Or maybe it’s just your natural smell. It makes him a little dizzy, but he composes his voice quickly.

“Here and here—” he says, circling the words he just translated on the page.

You respond with a short but genuine, “Okay.”

After a few hours, Kakashi managed to pretend your presence doesn’t affect him. His usual seriousness returned. You’ve made it past basic expressions and greetings, which is good. He noticed you have a strong memory—though he’d love to know what your real personality is like.

Though his stoicism came back and he’s no longer delusional about what he feels around you, something unusual for him, but, on your end—you’ve grown more observant.

Since meeting him, you’ve started unconsciously seeking him out with your eyes whenever he’s around, and his voice sticks in your mind more than anyone else’s. Of course, you never want to disrespect the Hokage, but still—it’s hard not to wonder what he looks like without the mask. Or even deeper: who he is beneath the mask and title. How the scar under his eye only intensifies his gaze, pulling you out of the present moment sometimes. Your thoughts always arrive at the same quiet, unwavering conclusion. “Beautiful.”

Which is why, by the end of the session, you’re a little distracted. You’re listening—but not really. You nod, but don’t fully comprehend.

Kakashi has started to pick up on your little reactions and expressions. His experience reading people—especially what they don’t say—helps too.

So when you go quiet, his brows furrow slightly. He flips through the dictionary, then starts speaking slowly but clearly:

“That’s enough for today. You look tired.”

Blink. Another blink.

Now you’re no longer spacing out—your cheeks flush, and Kakashi can’t tell if it’s because of how close you are to his face or because he caught you not paying attention, even though your eyes had been tracing every curve of his face.

“Sorry, I—I—”

You quickly get up, prompting him to stand too. You subtly wipe your sweaty palms on the tight, uncomfortable pants you’re still wearing from your intense training with Tsunade.

 Impressive woman, you think.

Kakashi watches as you move to the other side of the desk, bowing slightly, and say,

“Thank you!”

What surprises you is that you think you heard something like a chuckle from him. Oh, he should laugh more.

Kakashi speaks just as you’re about to leave:

“No worries. See you tomorrow.”

You at least understood the first part before stepping out of the room, not forgetting to give him a grateful smile.

After the door clicks shut and your footsteps fade, Kakashi lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he stands in the middle of the office, still facing the door you left through.

But somehow, now, it’s different—because he smirked. As he sets his ridiculously big hat down on his desk, his hair tousled in all directions, a thought settles in.

So I’m not the only one affected by your presence

༄

Today, Kakashi decided to show you the most sacred places in Konoha. First, he waited for you after your training with Tsunade, leaning against a tree with his arms lazily crossed.

It’s his day off, so his clothes are finally normal now.

Though “that black t-shirt without sleeves” distracted you instantly when you saw him from the training field. Your eyes avoiding him a little more, just to make sure it’s not obvious that his prominent muscles, painted by that red tattoo that makes him even more attractive, are affecting your brain chemistry. You don’t want to give the impression of unseriousness or, even worse, to behave inappropriately towards him.

It’s not easy for Kakashi either — he got to see a bit of your abilities. And seeing how your chakra-enhanced strength was acting was a true sight to witness. His eyes widened especially when your small fist landed a brutal hit into the ground — taijutsu really suits you. Still, he couldn’t stop his gaze when you bent down slightly to stretch your back after that hit.

Tsunade let out a theatrical sigh after how much work you did — meaning just giving you commands and pushing you to the limit — but she always loves to dramatize a little.

Her steady gaze, which defines her confidence in herself, settled on Kakashi as you both approached him.

“Day off, huh?” Looking him up and down before teasing him like she always does.

“Poor Kakashi, so little time for your disgusting books. What a shame you’ll miss out on Konoha’s streets.”

Kakashi let out just an annoyed huff — their sibling-like relationship sometimes gets the best of him.

“Wow, your observation skills are truly groundbreaking.” A pause. “Or not.”

Tsunade rolled her eyes at that, before he added:

“In fact, I don’t mind.”

Finally, looking at you and giving you a small smile before greeting you.

“Hello. Good to see you.”

It’s hard for him to choose the appropriate greeting expression in order not to overstep. So the words left his lips almost forced.

“Hey, Hokage-sama!”

You bow politely, while Kakashi slightly widens his eyes and waves his hands in disapproval, a bit embarrassed.

“Hah, no need for—”

Tsunade lets out a snort at that, tossing her ponytails over her shoulder with her usual assertiveness.

She didn’t bother to announce her leaving after seeing how you both act like teenagers — even if it’s quite a show — the slow build between you that she anticipated from the first time the lone wolf Kakashi laid eyes on you.

You’re not different either — women can tell pretty quickly when another woman has a thing for a man, you don’t even have to speak the same language.

༄

While you were both immersed in each other’s presence, your eyes sometimes slipped down to his body, which drew too much attention. You’re almost ashamed to admit you don’t want anyone else to see him right now or admire him. Not that he noticed anything, especially now, focused only on taking you to as many places as possible and explaining things.

“So … it’s … a …”

Your words start forming much better than before — he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of you.

“That’s …? Konoha Toshodokoro?

“Yes, indeed.”

Even though he talks more than you sometimes, somehow it helps you understand better. Hard to believe, but you actually managed to laugh together when he tried to show you how … it works, his hands miming clumsily — it was too funny how awkward he was, and for a moment you felt even closer to him.

Your laughter grew louder after he scolded you playfully:

“That’s mean, don’t laugh. I’m trying to help.”

But his smile (too big, though — he’s lucky it’s hidden) said something else.

Meanwhile, Genma and Kotetsu were leaning against a post from a common gathering spot in Konoha.

Genma sends a side-glance to his friend,  then returns with a sly smirk at how you two look together, laughing and walking on the streets like you’ve known each other for years.

“Well, well, well. Such a sight to behold.”

Kotesu accompanies him:

“A short trip sometimes needs a break. Right, Kakashi-san?”

Kakashi felt a bit annoyed when he got pulled out of the bubble he was in with you. Even though you didn’t mind, the smile was still intact on your face.

His usual demeanor brought back his rigidity.

“Hello, Genma and Kotetsu-san.”

After considering their suggestion to grab a drink before heading off — seeing how Genma nods toward the place — Kakashi speaks again:

“Maybe next time. Still, thank you for your offer.”

༄

A year and a half after the war, things in Konoha were slowly starting to return to normal.

Missions weren’t as frequent anymore, reports from other villages and management issues no longer gave Kakashi constant dark circles, and people seemed happier.

Or maybe it was just the two of you who felt that way more than others.

The truth is, for more than half a year since you arrived here, you managed to learn the language pretty well. Slowly, Kakashi realized that you’re a person impossible to avoid. You even managed to make contact with your family, but you firmly told them to come here after you.

He still doesn’t understand your reason for that, because you haven’t told him. He can only be glad that you’re staying here, but why?

Kakashi is a selfless man, not by choice. Life taught him to fight and help every time he could, but in the process, he sabotaged himself and never let anyone help him too much. Not that he necessarily thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s no longer an optimistic person — not since he was very young — and he doesn’t expect miracles.

And this is where he’s wrong. But “luck” is on his side, because you’ve liked him since you arrived here. You can’t say it was just his appearance, you couldn’t even fully see him, since he was hidden — just like his soul.

It was because his energy warms yours, his kindness, his awareness of his surroundings, his choice of words, and the chemistry between you? It hasn’t gone unnoticed by others.

You’re not someone who hides behind things, your boldness starting to strike when Kakashi least expected.

If before you were afraid of being inappropriate, that concept doesn’t exist anymore. Especially once you realized it wasn’t just in your head.

While you were packing your gear into your training backpack, sitting on a tree stump, a few strands that slipped from your hair — though it was braided into two — clung to your face and made it hard to see.

Tsunade was just waiting for you to finish, her gaze had already drifted to the usual spot where Kakashi waited for you, immersed in his book, which he had kind of been ignoring these past few months.

“How long is this little theatre  you two are putting on going to last?”

You looked at her, squinting from the sunlight behind her, not understanding the expression.

“Theatre?”

“The play you’re putting on, with Hokage – student.”

You dodge the question, as expected.

“I think we are even friends now.”

Tsunade called your name and as you stood up, you maintained eye contact while she spoke.

“You know Kakashi likes you, right? You are a smart woman.” Sensing your dismissive retort coming, she didn’t let you speak. “Kakashi is different. He faced some terrible things and will never say it out loud or directly in order to not burden another person.”

You blinked at her, your soul starting to throb violently as she confirmed what your perceptions of him already were.

As a final note, she added, “Do what you want with this, it’s completely your choice. As a suggestion, what we all see here is that you two are alike and have a connection rare to find.”

You gulped, glancing distantly at Kakashi while he had already stopped reading, trying to figure out what’s taking so long.

Tsunade’s seriousness surprised you at the time. But it didn’t last long. When you admitted you liked him, she teased you almost every time.

Sometimes you think she created a monster. You. Because now, you act directly around Kakashi.

For example, you linger too much in his presence, you ask too many shady questions just to get to ask his opinion, you fix his hair if a leaf has landed on him. You insist on helping him with Hokage tasks even though he almost always refuses.

Which slowly kills Kakashi.

What shocked him the most was when you made him vulnerable in front of everyone during a meeting, exposing his sacrifice behavior and… his care.

While Kakashi was presenting the risky mission he said he had to personally undertake — even though arms supply management wasn’t his responsibility, even though many suspicions confirmed that intruders started stealing them and it led to distrust between villages.

Kakashi started speaking in that firm tone no one wanted to challenge — except, of course, Tsunade. But now, you too.

“I will go to assure the safety of the shinobi in that area. We need to find the persons responsible for this.”

And you didn’t think twice before daring to speak.

“As I read about Hokage responsibilities in the rules of council’s book (your pronunciation isn’t the best yet), this doesn’t seem like one.”

Kakashi’s attention shifted from Guy Sensei, who was definitely offering to come with him, to being fixed on you, slightly surprised.

“Not everything is written down. As a Hokage, you need to show people you care about their safety — and not from behind a desk.”

“Is it? Or is this your personal desire to carry everything on your own shoulders, like you’re used to?”

Everyone went quiet for a second. Until Tsunade, mockingly, gestured with her hand and said:

“A mission like this is insignificant compared to what Kakashi has been through.”

So you added, firmly, “If it’s so insignificant, I don’t think Hokage-sama himself would have a problem if I accompanied him. For his safety, of course, which is the priority.”

Asuma made a “tsk” sound with his toothpick in his mouth. As if to say indirectly, “She got you there, mate.”

Kakashi still kept his gaze on you — your angry expression interested him so much he dismissed the others in order to speak with you.

You sat back down, still a little upset.

Kakashi took off his Hokage robes, remaining in your favorite black clothes of his, putting his hands in his pockets and starting by saying your name to get your attention.

“Dare to say what happened?”

Your tone was slightly ironic, but there was more to it.

“Was I wrong?”

A pause.

“No.”

“So you don’t disagree with me coming as a guardian? Since my safety as a villager is more important than the Hokage himself?”

Kakashi was a bit surprised, though oddly, it seemed that when you’re angry, you speak better.

“You think I’m irresponsible.”

“No. I think your life is just as important as ours, not just because you’re Hokage. You’re important. And to me, as well.”

Kakashi felt like there was no air in his lungs when he tried to breathe again.

So you added, while walking out the door with determination:

“So from now on, you’re not doing things alone anymore, Kakashi. Not when I’m here. Unless you want to exile me from the village.”

You slammed the door a little, and that day and night, Kakashi spent hours processing the care behind your words. As if a small door in his well-protected soul had opened, and you’d stepped right through it.

For the first time since he was born, his instinct was to make a “selfish” decision and accept you in his life. But he still doesn’t know how.

༄

Since then, you made Kakashi realize he wasn’t alone anymore. Not just the kind of alone where you’re not surrounded by people—but the kind that settles deep in your soul.

You’d started spending time together outside of training, outside of missions. You carved yourself a quiet little space in his office. Rumors, of course, began to spread about how much time you two spent together, but everyone could see it—this was the best thing that could’ve happened to Kakashi.

Now, the two of you were buried in your books. You were still reading historical texts about Konoha—its language, its traditions—while Kakashi sighed behind his desk, flipping through today’s mission reports.

You peeked up from your book with a small smile.

“Need help?”

But Kakashi waved a dismissive hand without even looking up, too stressed to bother responding. You walked closer, placing your hand on his desk and leaning in.

You tilted your head slightly, watching the tension in his furrowed brows. Kakashi paused just long enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye before going back to his work, clearly trying not to focus on how close you were.

“You can’t help, don’t worry. Just some mundane, meticulous Hokage stuff,” he mumbled mostly to himself. “I don’t know how Tsunade ever dealt with all of this.”

You chuckled quietly and replied with a grin, “I’m pretty sure Shizune was the one forced to do most of it.”

He huffed. “Most likely.”

Kakashi looked at you again, and his eyes betrayed him for just a moment—scanning you, lingering just a second too long.

You felt your cheeks flush, subtly tucking some hair behind your ear as you shifted and hopped up to sit on the edge of his desk, facing him.

Kakashi leaned back slightly in his chair and gave you a teasing look.

“Highly inappropriate for a shinobi, dear.”

You smirked. “Lucky for you, I’m basically your qualified assistant at this point, considering how much time I spend in here.”

Even if you let the bold words slip out, your hands were a little sweaty as you nervously fiddled with the edge of your short skirt, which barely covered the tight training shorts beneath.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“As your qualified assistant, is your job to motivate the Hokage… or distract him?”

You leaned in just a little closer, smile widening as you feigned innocence.

“Oh, I assure you, my intentions are entirely pure. I’m only here to encourage the village leader. Don’t tell me I’m distracting you?”

Kakashi shook his head, half in disbelief, half amused. He cleared his throat before replying.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes locked with his, full of unspoken meaning. Something deeper passed between you—something warm, quiet, and magnetic.

༄

The next week bring more promises ahead.

It was a normal spring day, the kind where everything felt a little more hopeful when you looked around and saw cherry blossoms swirling over Konoha. You’d all decided to go out for drinks and catch up.

You sat between Tsunade and Shizune. Asuma and Kushina were chatting nearby, not separated from the group but in their own little corner. Guy-sensei—whom you adored for how much he inspired you to work harder—was arguing with Kakashi over something ridiculous, as usual, while Iruka laughed along. Kotetsu, Genma, and Anko were too busy racing to see who could down a shot the fastest.

“Kakashi, my man, why can’t you accept defeat for once?” Guy’s eyes were red from laughing, his wide grin only making Kakashi roll his eyes as Guy shook him by the shoulders.

“Guy, please. For the millionth time—you were the one who lost—”

You cut in, feigning a shocked gasp. “That’s a lie! I saw Guy-sensei land the final strike!”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at your blatant betrayal, while Tsunade tossed back another shot with a smirk and Shizune giggled sweetly.

Guy’s eyes sparkled dramatically.

“See, Kakashi?! She recognizes true effort and extraordinary talent!”

Kakashi shot you a teasing look before turning back to Guy, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Okay, okay. You win. My ego is so crushed—I think I need to step outside and recover.”

He got up with exaggerated exasperation, shooting you a short, private glance over his shoulder before heading out.

You couldn’t help but grin wider as Tsunade nudged you lightly, pretending to cough.

“Right… W-Well… Excuse me for a second, I need to use the bathroom.”

Guy gave you a thumbs-up, totally buying your excuse. The others were too distracted to notice—except the girls. Even though Kushina was clinging to Asuma, she didn’t miss it. She exchanged a knowing glance with Tsunade and Shizune.

You didn’t bother taking the long way to make your lie believable. You walked straight outside and found Kakashi leaning against the bar wall, clearly waiting.

You brushed off a speck of nonexistent dust from your dress. The colors you wore mirrored the season—a pale pink and white kimono tied lazily with a floral sash that framed your figure and bared the skin above your chest, where the curve of your breasts pressed against the short, fitted dress beneath. The gold chain around your neck held a sun-shaped pendant—the one they gave you on your one-year anniversary as a shinobi of the village.

You’d never forget Kakashi’s gentle hands pushing your hair aside to clasp it for you. It might’ve looked like a casual moment to anyone watching, but both of you had felt your hearts about to burst out of your chests.

You stepped beside him, leaning against the wall with your shoulder.

“Sobering up a little?” you asked with a soft smile.

“Not much of a drinker,” Kakashi replied. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His eyes drifted across your face… and then, slowly, down your body. He didn’t bother hiding it. Maybe the alcohol had lowered his guard a little.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You bit your lip, shy, glancing down before lifting your gaze with an honest smile.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He shook his head and looked forward again. “You always dodge compliments.”

You chuckled. “And you always deflect them.”

“Guess we’re a match.”

He meant it teasingly at first—but both of you froze for half a second, eyes widening at the implication.

A pause.

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Right. We should go back in. The wind’s getting rougher and you could catch a cold—”

“No.”

He turned to you quickly, swallowing hard, searching your face for an answer.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He looked confused. “Wait for what? Did something happen?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes as your heart pounded against your ribs. You exhaled shakily, trying to steady yourself.

“No, it’s just—Kakashi.”

You looked at him—really looked. He froze.

“Kakashi, I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you.”

Did you really just say that? Or did he imagine it? That couldn’t have—

But when he saw your face again—your flushed cheeks, your shaky breathing—he felt his heart almost stop.

“Are you sure you know what that means—?”

You cut him off. “Kakashi. Yes, I’m sure.” Your voice was firmer now, tinged with frustration. “I thought I wasn’t the only one feeling this. But maybe I read it wrong. If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

You started to turn away—but he caught your arm. In one swift motion, his other hand slipped behind your back, and before you could blink, he’d pulled his mask down and kissed you.

Your eyes widened for a moment before closing, melting into how soft his lips felt against yours.

Kakashi kissed you slowly at first, savoring every second, until your fingers tangled in his hair and you tugged gently. His mouth parted—and at the same time, you both deepened the kiss.

His tongue met yours, the taste of you overwhelming in the best way. All the tension, all the feelings he’d buried—it poured out in that kiss. Especially when you let out a soft gasp between kisses, making him lose control for just a second.

He didn’t want to rush. He didn’t want the moment to be tainted by tipsy bravado, so when he finally pulled away, he kept one hand on your cheek and rested his forehead gently against yours.

You were both breathless, staring into each other. Vulnerability shimmered in your eyes. There was so much there—too much to name. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred from unshed tears.

“Kakashi…”

“Yes,” he replied with the same intensity, his thumb softly brushing your cheek. “I—I feel the same. In case I haven’t made that clear enough.”

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “You made it very clear.”

He nodded, finally stepping back, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the door.

“Let’s go back in. I can’t use the wind as an excuse anymore.”

You laughed quietly as you let him guide you, eyes still glowing with love—and you never once looked away from him.

༄

There hadn’t been any more hesitations since then. Even though Kakashi had always been careful to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

He avoids openly affectionate gestures in public, but he stands just a little closer to you—his presence a quiet shield.

Kakashi as Hokage makes quiet mornings more peaceful. He hands you a perfectly brewed cup of tea without a word, grounding you with his presence alone.

He insists on walking you almost everywhere, especially after work, brushing it off with a simple, “It’s on my way,” even though it's clearly not.

He notices your favorite flowers and sometimes surprises you with one, leaving it where he knows you'll find it.

He sits with you under the stars after a long day, offering advice only if you need it—just that silent comfort that he’s here, and he always will be.

But something is missing. With not much experience, you struggle to find what exactly it is...

You both walk through the village together, the lantern lights casting a soft orange zigzag glow over the street and the breeze pleasant against the heat of an overly hot summer day.

You’d bought yourself a fan from a stall in the village center, waving it dramatically while already crying a couple of times—but Kakashi was only amused by your frustration. Your pouty expression was too cute to him.

He couldn’t help but glance occasionally at the slight curve of your cleavage, brought out by the heat, a bead of sweat slipping between them.

But you? You’d started feeling insecure, not aware of his thoughts—not that you had any experience. You didn’t know if Kakashi respected you too much, or maybe… maybe you just weren’t compatible?

Was your lack of experience that obvious? Did it not excite him? You didn’t know what to think… especially today, when your thoughts were more tangled than usual. Not that you were trying to get his attention—but you'd woken up earlier just to pick your favorite dress. The first one he ever saw you in, a year ago. Your hair was softly wavy from the braids you did the night before, and a subtle line of soft blue eyeliner hugged your eyelids. And yet, you felt like you’d just finished three hours of intense training with Tsunade, in yesterday’s clothes. Because Kakashi didn’t seem to react at all. But he noticed. Like he always do.

As you stared blankly ahead, slightly tilted down, he gently nudged your shoulder.

“Hello? Is somebody here?”

You looked up suddenly, as if snapped out of your thoughts, then smiled—though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“A-ah! Haha, She's away for a minute. Lemme check in the back for you.”

Kakashi smiled back, but it's not like you could fool him, the one of the best lie detectors alive. Still, he didn’t push. Not until you reached your favorite spot—by the little fountain, where you sometimes picked wild yellow flowers while he likes to enjoyed the sun barefoot. Little moments when he actually relax. But is besides you.

But when you sat on top of a small mound of stones—placed by Kakashi during your last visits so you’d be more comfortable—he didn’t hesitate to break your usual routine. A strand of hair was gently tucked behind your ear by his fingers as you squinted at him, eyes narrowed from the sun, until he moved to block it with his body.

“Tell me. What’s weighing on your heart, darling?”

You let out a breath, half a scoff, half a laugh—because he always knows. Always, even when you don’t have the words.

“Fear.”

“Of what?” His reply was immediate, his gaze unwavering.

It took a moment to find the right word or the courage to say it.

“That we’re not right for each other.”

Kakashi furrowed his brows slightly, trying to ignore the pang that hit his chest.

“Why would you say that?”

You looked at him for a second before turning your gaze away again.

“I don’t think you feel the same way I feel about you.”

Kakashi blinked a few times. That didn’t make any sense. Did I miss something?

“What do you feel for me that I don’t?”

“Desire.”

You answered quickly—because if you didn’t say it now, the tension in your heart might crush you.

Kakashi didn’t move for a few seconds.

He bent one knee, just to see your face better, which you were trying to hide.

“You’re trying to tell me I’m not attracted to you?”

Your lips pressed together, nervous, and Kakashi didn’t look away this time.

“It feels that way.”

And that’s when he realized. He’d made a mistake. He’d always feared he’d be seen as some frustrated, sex-obsessed jerk. Less of a man if he ever let himself show what he truly wanted.

He lowered his head to breathe, voice muffled slightly by his posture.

“Wrong.”

You didn’t understand, but didn’t have time to be confused.

“What did—”

Kakashi swept you off your feet then, making you laugh from sheer surprise, your hair falling halfway over your face. “Kakashi, what are you doing?” Your arms wrapped around his neck as he took two steps before taking off into the air.

You felt your heart pounding louder than your thoughts, pressing harder into his chest as you flew. To his place? Yours? You didn’t care. Not really. You just anticipated the moment, even if you didn’t understand—Why only now?

Kakashi had one goal now: to calm down, and unravel slowly if possible the desire he’d held in since the first day he saw you. A smirk formed under his mask at the thought that you were finally about to find out what kind of man he really is.

When you arrived at your place, he didn’t even let you down to open the door—he’d already memorized your entrance seal.

Only once inside did he let you down gently, but the distance between you didn’t grow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as your eyes met his—just for a second, before they fluttered shut when you felt his lips on your neck. Between the burning kisses, his voice grew slower. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way.” His hands ran slowly down your back, tracing the seam of your dress before sliding down to your leg and lifting it, drawing you in closer. “But that’s nothing more than a wrong impression.” His last word landed right as his lips met yours.

Your mouth opened immediately to welcome him in, a low hum of pleasure escaping him that made you burn—especially somewhere unfamiliar.

His hand gripped the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, and the sound you let out was so sweet it made him squeeze your thighs even harder.

When he pulled away just to let you breathe, you admitted shyly,

“I’ve never…”

“I know,” Kakashi reassured you softly, and that was part of why he’d avoided getting close like this—he didn’t want to scare you. His breath ghosted along your spine as he leaned to whisper in your ear, “We’ll only do this if you want to.”

If you weren’t sure before, his low, rough voice was enough to make your legs tremble. You could only nod and Kakashi could already feel the effect he had on you.

Fuck.

He looked into your eyes for a second too long—maybe just to calm himself—before moving behind you to undress you gently.

His fingers traced slowly over your hot skin, and goosebumps bloomed in their wake, down to the zipper that he lowered slowly, the dress slipping off your hips.

He returned to face you, kneeling until he was level with your stomach, slipping the dress from your body. You were left only in your underwear, but Kakashi never looked away from your face, making sure you were still with him.

“Can I?”

Your voice came out raspier than expected.

“Y-yes.”

He nodded, his gaze finally settling on the part of you he’d shamefully dreamed of more nights than he could admit.

They say fantasies are better than reality. That’s a lie. He doesn’t think he’s ever been luckier than in this moment.

His hand slid between your legs, gently parting them. His lips kissed everywhere, starting inside and outside your legs. And when he felt how soaked your panties already were from just his touch—your legs nearly gave out at his lips touching the fabric over your pussy.

He rose, trailing kisses all over your body, one hand unclasping your bra. Your hair covered your nipples, barely.

His breath grew heavy as he looked at you, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He lifted your face and kissed you again.

As you feel too shy to be standing fully naked in the middle of the room, you urge him with a whisper.

“You too need-,” Your hands removed his mask completly, then his black shirt, your fingers trailing down his toned muscles before reaching his pants. Kakashi decided that was enough—he took your hands and gently pushed you onto the bed’s edge, kneeling between your legs again.

You led him in. At this point, you didn’t even have coherent thoughts left. He was a sight to behold. So beautiful.

Your trembling legs made Kakashi smirk wider as he pulled your panties down slowly. But you couldn’t look away. And neither could he. He let out a soft gasp when one finger parted your glistening folds and circled your clit slowly.

You moaned with flushed cheeks—and just as your legs started to close, he pinned them down.

“Mhm.” His teasing voice quickened your breath. But once his mouth found your pussy, your head dropped hard onto the bed.

You couldn’t believe you’d missed out on this until now.

For Kakashi, your taste was all he could focus on. He licked and kissed you with such hunger he almost didn’t notice how hard you were trembling—until your louder moans pulled him back. Your eyes met his, and that alone made you come, your first time, on his tongue.

He hadn’t expected it to be so fast. Neither had you. The pleasure overwhelmed you, and Kakashi let you squeeze his face between your thighs as his tongue gently cleaned you off.

He rose over you slowly. Your dazed, fucked-out expression was mesmerizing. You both laughed softly.

“We’re not done, sweetheart.”

You swallowed just before he kissed you again, and the new taste on your tongue made your cheeks burn again—realizing it was yours.

“K-Kakashi.”

His cock twitched at your needy stutter.

“Yes?”

“Can y-you—”

Your hand moved over his cock through his pants. It didn’t feel small. At all. You were a little scared—it felt big.

“Of course.” He took off his pants—but it still wasn’t enough. But Kakashi didn’t want to rush. He had to prepare you. “Shh, let me.” Hearing you whine in his neck, he sped up just a bit, slipping one finger in gently. “Tell me if it’s okay, okay?”

You only nodded, keeping eye contact, mind focused on the foreign sensation as his finger pushed in. It wasn’t as painful as you thought. You gasped at the slight pain, but that was it. The feeling eased and Kakashi was watching you closely as your breathing quickened and your hips started to move.

“Oh my—”

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing your moans as a second finger entered you. Pushing harder, your thoughts blurred, reduced to pleas.

“P-please, please, please—”

“You’re gonna come again for me? Yes, sweetheart?” Kakashi groaned as your tears stung your cheeks, your nods frantic.

Your body convulsed on the mattress, mouth opening to release a long cry.

Kakashi left kisses all over your face and neck, drawing out your orgasm until his fingers left you.

As you caught your breath, you watched him take off the last of his clothes. Your eyes widened, but Kakashi reassured you before positioning himself.

“I’ll go as slow as you want.”

And he kept his word. You bit your lips so hard they nearly bled as he pushed into you. You felt so full—and he wasn’t even halfway in.

“Sweetheart?”

He looked a little worried at your expression, until you encouraged him.

“Keep going, Kakashi. Please.”

The rumors were true. It hurt. Like hell. But after? No one warned you how it would feel after. Or maybe it only felt this way with him.

Once his movements found a rhythm, hitting that one spot that left you breathless, especially when Kakashi noticed and didn’t stop—

“Kakashi, it feels so good, so good—”

Kakashi agreed. He tried to focus on anything else—your pleasure, your face, the wall behind you—just to keep from coming the second he entered you. He’d never felt anything like this.

“Yes?”

“Y-yes yes!! Please, please kiss me—”

He kissed you immediately, the kiss messy from how he hit inside you, your tongues battling, desperate to consume the other.

That same sensation built again, especially when Kakashi lifted your leg to go deeper. Your moans turned to cries.

And when you came again, so hard, it took everything in him not to pull out. You clenched so tightly, Kakashi didn’t last much longer. But before he could pull out—

“N-no, no! Please—in me, Kakashi!”

And how could he say no to that?

A deep groan escaped him as he filled you completely, so much it spilled down your thighs.

Not that you noticed. You both had only looked at each other the whole time.

He stayed over you for a while, catching his breath and your hand instinctively running through his hair.

Then he cleaned you off gently, moving you onto his chest. His fingers ran through your hair, caressed your cheeks as you smiled nonstop.

“So I was wrong,” you murmured.

He chuckled.

“Definitely.”

Your smile stayed, then your expression grew serious. He tilted his head slightly, waiting.

“I love you, Kakashi. A lot.”

His heart beat harder. He knew. Or hoped. But it had always been hard to accept someone loving him. And just as hard, saying it back. But now, it came naturally.

“I love you too, as much.”

Your insides tingled, hugging him tightly.

And Kakashi didn’t think he’d ever slept better than he did that night—something he’d only admit to you long after. About half a year later, by the time he was already planning to propose. He didn’t want to waste another second, knowing that kind of luck would never come twice in his life.

[sashimi020]

almost yours p3 *ੈ✩‧₊˚ [mitsuya x reader]

PART 3 (3/5)

p1 | p2 | p4 | p5 notes: feedback, reblogs and comments appreciated!<3 i hope you guys like this chapter!! (not proofread so there may be mistakes)

tags: @dollrndo credits to @i-mmaculatus for the dividers!

the “date” from last week went mostly well, save for the questionable interruption by mitsuya’s friends but you think that it was pretty funny. they’ve always been fun to be around. you get why mitsuya hangs around them. you wish you could be closer to all of them.

sunday rolled around and you found yourself similarly jobless. maybe you should get something for mitsuya? he did cook for you later that week as promised.. the food tasted really really good. oh. your mouth is watering just thinking about it.. urgh. “get yourself together y/n!” you tell yourself. new years is nearing and you think maybe you could surprise him with a gift! that’d be sweet. 

only after 10 minutes did you realise that you were completely stumped for ideas on what to get him. sewing materials? that’s dumb. he already has that. another cardigan? too risky! it’s expensive and what if he doesn’t like it? a drawing? you don’t trust your artistic abilities to capture his beauty. you grumble into your pillow. why did choosing a gift have to be so hard? you suddenly felt a pit in your stomach.. what if you just didn’t know him well? how could this be?! you guys have been friends for ages and you don’t know what to get him?! you take a deep breath before you spiral and reach for your phone. staring at it, you’re struck with what you think is a genius idea! you should just ask his friends! they’d help you out right?

______________________________________________________________

y/n -> kazutora

y/n: HI KAZUTORA

kazutora: whatsupppppp

y/n: you’re suchhh a greattt frienddd you know?? i think you’re soooo awesome! 

kazutora: what do you want. 

y/n: i need a favour!

kazutora: -.- what is it?

y/n: i’m trying to find a gift for mitsuya but i can’t figure out what to get him

y/n: you and the others have spent more time with him so i thought you could help me

kazutora: ohh yeah i could, what occasion? his birthday isn’t coming up.. 

y/n: ohh. he cooked for me recently! i thought i should pay him back some way :)

______________________________________________________________

operation: mitsuya x y/n

kazutora: y/n is trying to find a gift for mitsuya bc he cooked for her they’re so cute what the heck 

draken: awhh

kazutora: she said she needs help finding gift ideas but i also have like no clue 

mikey: we’ll all go shopping?

baji: it’s so hot out.. 

mikey: SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO COME INTO EXISTENCE

draken: stop being so dramatic

mikey: :( 

mikey: bad ken-chin

mikey: WAIT I HAVE A GOOD IDEA

baji: when have you ever had a good idea

mikey: shut up this is actually good

mikey: what if two of us convince mitsuya to get something for her and two of us help her get something for mitsuya and then they can have like a little gift exchange thing?

draken: .. thats.. actually not a bad idea

baji: kudos

mikey: you guys underestimate me too much 

kazutora: me and baji will go with y/n you both go with mitsuya?

draken: sounds cool

______________________________________________________________

kazutora -> y/n

kazutora: wanna to the mall with me and the baji? we can help you find something there. 

y/n: sure! i’m free today evening i think, would that work for you guys?

kazutora: totally

y/n: thanks again! :3

______________________________________________________________

kazutora, y/n and baji finally make it to the mall. you three browse the stores for a bit and engage in idle conversation before you find yourself pause at a display in a store. it was a jacket, specifically a bomber jacket reminiscent of a certain video game character you liked. you stared at it for a second, wondering if it’ll look good on you, wondering how much it cost, wondering if you should consider getting it. kazutora and baji noticed you staring at the jacket with a rather longing expression. “something caught your eye” “huh?.. oh.. nothing nothing..” you turn away, ripping your gaze from it. kazutora took note of the store and the jacket you were so intently staring at. that would come in handy later. 

eventually the three of you ended up in what was a jewellery shop. "hey what about this?" baji pointed to a pair of matching bracelets. “ohh that’s so cute. i can see him wearing it” kazutora adds. you doubt if your feelings would be too predictable and obvious with a gift like that, you laugh awkwardly “isn’t that.. a bit too.. er.. couple-ish?” they both stare at you, deadpanning. kazutora and baji look at each other "yeah you’re getting that" 

"if you really aren’t sure about it, you could always get him another gift" baji says after you pay for the bracelets "it’s not that i don’t like it, i think it’s really cute.. i just.. don’t want him to think it’s weird.." baji frowns. kazutora raises his eyebrow. "what makes you think that?" "i don’t know! look.. i just.. he’s really sweet okay? but he’s.. kind to everyone. there’s nothing different about me. i don’t want to come off as overzealous with this gift" baji sighs "trust me when i say this. you.. you guys are different. he treats you differently" "we see it y/n.." as they both acknowledge the unspoken feelings you feel yourself get flustered “whatever! forget it" 

after browsing the stores for a while you spot something. a pin cushion. it’s perfect. you’ve never seen mitsuya use one so you figured maybe he didn’t have one, even if he did he wouldn’t mind a second, right? “oh! good spot! i think he’d love that" kazutora says. "i vaguely recall him talking about wanting one but i don’t think he ever got around to getting it.." baji adds. you grin and hold it up like a prize, what a steal, not bothering with the price you check out immediately with a small gleam in your eyes. 

the three of you parted ways, and said your goodbyes and you finally made it home. you stared proudly at the bracelets and pin cushion. there was a part of you that still got nervous about the bracelets, you could only hope he wouldn’t find it weird.. you try push the insecurity away and tuck yourself into bed, mind clouded with thoughts. overall you thought this was a pretty good gift. maybe you could add something else later.. oh! maybe make some origami.. definitely you had to package it nicely.. would he open it at the festival? you hope he would. your heart skips a beat and you feel your nerves tingling at the thought. you couldn’t wait for new years to roll around. you shut your eyes and let your exhaustion from the day ease your nerves. 

the little jacket detail is actually a bit of my nerdiness seeping in. i got into resident evil recently and i really REALLY badly want a jacket that looks like leon's like it looks so freaking cool!!

i just realised mitsuya isn't even in this chapter 💀 this was pretty short but its 12 30 in the night and i have to go to sleep so i'll upload ch4 tmrw probably!

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello, i have some request for you. Can you make Sin-ha x fem!reader, where Sin-ha confesses his feelings to fem!reader that he has kept to himself for months? Thank you ❤️❤️

sorryyyy this took me so long but I hope you still enjoy 🤍🫶

Confession of love in the dying sun

Pairing: Shin-Ah x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: You always admired him from afar, never once thought about the possibility that the blue dragon might hide the same feelings you try to cover up. Until you find yourself right next to him at sunet...

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff for all my starved bbys out there, Hak is Hak lol

The quiet rustling of leaves fills the air as you sit beside Shin-Ah, the forest around you bathed in soft golden light.

Oh, how much you’ve missed this peace and freedom. Since the day you stumbled upon Shin-Ah, your life was filled with nothing but dread, anxiety, and fleeing. When was the last time you were able to rest against a tree to get caressed by sunlight? You can’t put a finger on it. But what makes this day even more special is a certain someone right next to you.

You glance at him, noting the usual calm in his expression - masked eyes fixed on the horizon, mouth unreadable, pale skin almost glowing in the rays of sun. He's always been a mystery, a gentle shadow by your side you enjoyed since meeting him in that cave. But today, there's a tension in the silence between you, thick enough to stir your heartbeat.

"You’ve been quiet," you begin, nudging his shoulder gently.

He doesn’t respond right away, his fingers tightening slightly around the hilt of his sword resting across his lap. Then, without looking at you, he speaks.

“I’ve been holding something in… for a long time.”

Your breath catches. There's a weight in his voice that makes your chest tighten, an unknown depth to his words. Shin-Ah was never one to speak about his feelings, always hid himself well behind that mask. Is it because both of you grew closer and closer over those past weeks, because he saved your life back then in that cave?

“I didn’t know if it was okay to say it. I didn’t want to make things strange between us,” he continues, his voice lower now, vulnerable in a way you've never heard before.

“But it’s been months, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it.”

You turn to face him fully, heart pounding. He finally meets your eyes, and though the mask covers half his face, the intensity in his gaze pins you in place. This almost sounds like a…confession.

No. It can’t be. Why would someone like him fall for an average girl like you? Not when Yona is around all the time, not when he’s bound to her by blood. Surely, he talks about something else-

“I care about you,” he finally admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I think about you constantly - when we’re fighting, when we’re resting, even when it’s quiet like this. And I’ve tried to bury it, but it won’t go away.”

He hesitates, as if fearing your reaction.

“I love you.”

The world seems to still for a moment - only the soft breeze moving through the trees dares to make a sound.

He loves you.

Shin-Ah just told you that he…loves you.

Your chest feels like exploding any given minute, your limbs failing to work while you can’t help but stare at his mask with glossy eyes.

“I don’t expect anything,” he murmurs.

“I just needed you to know.”

You stare at him, still too stunned to really speak, waiting for the part where he tells you all of this is a joke. Truth is, you were never able to keep your mind off him as well, always pondering about the thoughts behind his mask, admiring him from afar fully aware of the fact that he’ll never be yours truly.

The silence stretches, but not uncomfortably. Just... full. Full of emotions you weren’t ready to face, but maybe always knew were there. Oh, if he only knew. If he only knew how many times you’ve watched him sleep. If he only knew how you enjoyed those precious little moments with only him and you. If he only knew how often you almost blurted out those same words.

I love you.

Shin-Ah loves you.

“I…”Your voice catches, and you swallow hard, trying again. This is not the time to feel ashamed.

“I’ve wondered if you felt something. You’re always so quiet, but… the way you look at me. The way you always make sure I’m safe, even if it means putting yourself at risk.”

He doesn’t speak, just watches you, still and tense, like the smallest movement might shatter the moment.

Your heart is racing now, but your voice is steady.

“I care about you too, Shin-Ah. A lot. And I think… I think I was scared to say anything. Scared I was just imagining it.”

He blinks, once, slowly, his expression behind that mask unreadable, but his breath seems to catch.

You smile, soft and a little shaky.

“But I’m not imagining it, am I?”

He shakes his head slowly.

“No,” he mutters.

“You’re not.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand over his while taking his mask off with the other.

“Then… I’m glad you told me. Because I don’t want to keep pretending either.”

For a long moment, he just stares at your hand over his, gorgeous ocean-deep eyes lost in the way your fingers look intertwined with his.

Then he lifts his gaze back to yours - gentle, adoring, like you’ve just given him the entire sky.

“I’ve waited months to hear that,” he admits softly.

And in the stillness of the forest, with the last light of day sinking behind the trees, Shin-Ah smiles. Delicately, way too tender for anyone else to see. To be honest, you’ve never seen him smile like this, his eyes gleaming with nothing but love. You don’t dare to open your mouth, don’t dare to break the silence with even a movement of your limbs.

The silence between you is no longer heavy - it’s warm now, filled with something warm and new. Shin-Ah’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling gently around yours as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t squeeze it.

You lean in slightly, just enough for your shoulder to brush his, bare skin feeling like burning alive by the sheer touch.

Now or never.

“You can kiss me,” you whisper, barely audible.

“If you want.”

His breath hitches. You see it in the rise of his chest, the slight widening of his eyes behind the mask. Slowly, cautiously, he lifts his free hand and brushes his fingertips along your cheek, as though still unsure this moment is real.

To be honest, you weren’t kissed before. Not truly, not with intention, not by someone who looked at you with the same affection in his gaze. You always wondered what it might feel like, to be loved by someone you love as well, to feel his lips pressed against yours.

Then he leans in.

The kiss is soft - hesitant at first, like a question. His lips are warm, gentle, and respectful, like he’s memorizing the feel of you. You close your eyes, leaning into him, and he deepens it just a little, just enough to let you feel everything he’s held back for so long.

You can’t help but allow your arms to wrap around his neck, to feel him just a little closer. Oh, countless nights you imagined this exact moment, always telling yourself that it’ll never become reality. And now, Shin-Ah is holding you right between his arms while kissing you tenderly with the last rays of sunshine illuminating the scene

.When you pull apart, barely a breath away from each other, you feel your heart thudding in your chest, wild and content all at once.

And that’s when a voice breaks the spell.

“Well, well, well,” Hak drawls from somewhere behind you.

“What do we have here?”

You both jump, startled. You turn your head so fast you nearly knock into Shin-Ah’s shoulder. There stands Hak, arms crossed, smirking like a cat who’s just found your secret stash.

“Really, Shin-Ah? Months of silent brooding and this is how you break the tension? In the middle of the forest, no less?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Shin-Ah doesn’t respond. He just stares at Hak silently, though you swear you see the faintest tinge of red creeping up his neck.

Hak glances at you, his grin widening.

“I guess I’m happy for you two. But next time, give a guy some warning before I walk in on what looks like the final scene of some romance novel.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hak - seriously?”

He laughs, loud and unbothered, already turning back toward the path.

“C’mon, lovebirds. Try not to make out too loudly behind me.”

You glance back at Shin-Ah, both of you caught between embarrassment and laughter. Then, shyly, you reach for his hand again - and he takes it, lacing your fingers together as if he’s never letting go.

[justdrawlynn11]

You know what- imma just make the poll-

Note: Every option has an explanation. If you want, read them under the poll before voting-

Okay time to explain:

Moonstone:

He would work as the Phantom in the sense of his obsession with Sun, who’s Christine because yes, and his common depictions of having wings or being an angel on my blog, fitting into the title of “The Angel of Music” pretty well. He’d obsess with Sun being kind and wanting to keep that forever, no matter what. Him using love potions, the other thing about feeling like nobody will ever love him. A few other things are there too but those aren’t as easy to explain.

He would work well as Raoul, Christine’s childhood friend, because he’s known Sun their entire lives. He works with Bryce trying to hunt down Eclipse, something that could be mirrored in the au very well with Raoul trying to get the Phantom arrested for murder(that the Phantom did and got away with for some time-). Also it would make Sun x Moon the endgame ship of the au.

Eclipse:

He’d work well as the Phantom due to the fact that he’s committed multiple war crimes before Sun and Moon were even CREATED in canon, the original Phantom being a killer matching up there. I also personally think that Eclipse would fit better in a mentor role for Sun than Moon would be. Also Eclipse(in canon from MaSm) is at least a BIT older than Sun and Moon-

He’d also be a good Raoul because he’s more financially sound than Moon, and he has helped Sun try to somewhat escape Moon/the plex’s harmful treatment before in canon. Also it’d make Sun x Eclipse the endgame ship of the au.

Roxy:

I don’t think she’d fit as the Phantom in the au so it’s not an option-

She’d be good in a Raoul role from the fact that she’s one of the ‘nicer’ animatronics to Sun. Sun’s shown her romantic interest and Moon has gotten dangerously jealous of her before. Also just trying to give her some more love here, barely see anything involving her compared to these guys. Choosing her would make Sun x Roxy the endgame ship of the au.

(Note: MaSm Sun and Moon are NOT related)

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[ocd-posting]

I woke up and was in between sleeping and waking and was trying to keep myself awake and get up but I couldn’t move. There was a magnetic pull back to sleep. Happened twice. And the last time I went back I had an intrusive thought dream and I woke up like WTF

[citizen-zero]

WIBTA for taking advantage of my boss’ possible manic episode?

I know this already sounds bad but hear me out.

So I (30M) am the sole employee of this guy (62M) who’s honestly just a miserable boss and an even more miserable person. It sucks so bad working for him—the pay is horrendous, he’s verbally abusive, and the working conditions are awful (in the winter I literally have to stay bundled up the whole work day because he refuses to put the heat on in the office). He wouldn’t even give me holidays off if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s basically nothing to do those days because everywhere else is closed. I’m almost positive he unironically thinks poor people should die if they can’t work. His nephew (aka his only living relative and just the nicest guy) came by yesterday to invite him to Christmas dinner and he told him he’d see him in hell.

I cannot stress this enough—it’s BAD. I’d quit, but it’s been hard finding a better job and I’ve got four kids at home, including one with special needs.

Anyway, so here’s where I’m wondering if I’d be the asshole. Today was Christmas Day and he showed up at my house out of nowhere (huge red flag, I know). At first I thought he’d forgotten I had the day off and he was here to chew me out, which was worrying enough, but then his whole demeanor changed and he was super happy and excited and talking about how he was going to raise my salary. He even mentioned possibly making me a partner in the firm.

Now if that was it, I’d feel a little weird about the suddenness of it but it’d be fine. I’m not going to complain about having more money to feed my family. But then he started talking about how he wanted to pay our mortgage off. He talked about wanting to pay for our son to get the very expensive medical care that’s probably going to save his life. He mentioned at one point that he was going to be donating a huge amount of money to charity too—I knew he was rich but it staggered me. All this from a guy who doesn’t (didn’t?) even want to turn on the heat or the lights because it costs too much money.

It was such a sudden and drastic change that happened very literally overnight and now I’m kind of concerned he’s having a manic episode or something. I really, really want to accept his sudden generosity (I probably will; my wife is all for it and thinks he owes it to us), and I would love to believe that he’s truly had a sudden change of heart (an actual Christmas miracle lol) but I’m just worried about the possible consequences of accepting huge financial gifts like this from someone who I believe might be experiencing some kind of break from reality. Even if there’s nothing legally wrong with it, I’m worried about the ethics of it.

TLDR, my asshole boss might be in the middle of a mental breakdown. WIBTA if I accepted his offer to pay off my mortgage and my son’s medical expenses?

[changbin-froggy-jimin]

Shoutout to my friend who got me a job and I’m moving apartments to be closer to the job and I’ll be living in the same building with her and we both bonded over ATEEZ but I lost my special interest in ATEEZ like a week ago and kinda kpop as a whole because I saw Shadow the Hedgehog on the big screen and now he’s all I can think about…. I really don’t know how she’s going to react when I tell her I don’t care about it that deeply anymore, I don’t think this girl has ever heard of a hyper fixation before

[kawaiianimeredhead]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[gf2bellamy]

omgg could i request bubbly reader whos always smiling and giggling but one day an officer (or whoever) says shes being unprofessional and too much and it makes her so so sad so she tones it down and spencer is so upset seeing her like this bc shes the light of his life

-🦨

light — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: sunshine!reader feels insecure abt herself, mention of officer saying she's being unprofessional a/n: hii 🦨 !! hope this is what you asked for <3

"Morning." Your voice was quieter than usual, your smile smaller—just a polite curve of your lips rather than the bright, beaming grin the team was used to. You walked into the conference room, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you took your usual seat.

Morgan and Emily immediately exchanged a glance.

Normally, your entrance was impossible to miss—an enthusiastic, cheerful “Good morning!” ringing through the air, maybe even a playful comment about someone’s coffee choice or how exhausted everyone looked.

“Morning, sunshine.” Morgan’s voice was gentler than usual. “You good?”

You nodded quickly, forcing another smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.” The words felt rehearsed, like a line you had practiced just to avoid further questions. You glanced up at him for only a second before lowering your gaze to the table.

Emily’s frown deepened as she studied you, before cutting her eyes to Morgan again. Neither of them were buying it.

The door opened, and Spencer walked in, carrying two coffees.

He placed one in front of you like he always did—a silent little tradition between the two of you. Normally, this would earn him that smile, the one that made his heart stutter in his chest. The one that felt like warmth on the coldest days.

You would’ve reached for his hand—his hand, the one no one else was allowed to touch—and squeezed it, your fingers lingering just a little too long, just like they always did.

But today?

“Thanks,” you mumbled, barely looking up. You wrapped your hands around the cup, but nothing more. No smile. No touch.

Spencer’s spine went rigid. His fingers twitched at his sides as he stood there, processing, waiting—hoping—for a second longer than necessary. When nothing else came, he hesitated before reluctantly taking his own seat.

Emily and Morgan’s eyes were already on him when he looked up, their silent concern mirroring his own. He swallowed hard.

Something was wrong.

But it just got worse from there.

When Garcia called, her voice bubbled through the speakerphone, laced with her usual flair. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite team of crime-fighting superheroes! Tell me, my loves, who needs saving today?"

Usually, you’d fire something right back—some exaggerated response about how she was the real superhero or how you were tragically in need of her brilliance. Instead, silence stretched for a beat too long before Rossi finally spoke up, filling the gap where your usual laughter should have been.

At that moment, even Hotch—who rarely indulged in team gossip—glanced at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. A whole five seconds in Hotchner time. That was basically a siren blaring that something was wrong.

Your usual energy, the lightness that kept them all going, was gone. Every word you spoke was muted, every sentence clipped.

You kept your gaze trained on files, your hands fidgeting with the corner of the page, and when someone addressed you, your responses were polite but distant.

Spencer watched you more than he paid attention to the case briefing.

His mind ran through every possibility, every variable that could explain this drastic shift. Were you sick? Had something happened? Had someone said something?

His stomach twisted at the thought.

Spencer caught up to you just as you reached your hotel room that night. You glanced at him, surprised. The cool metal of your keycard was still in your hand when he spoke.

“Can I talk to you?” His voice was careful and concerned.

You hesitated.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was about. The stolen glances from the team, the way Spencer had been watching you all day. It was obvious. You could still avoid the conversation if you wanted to. You could brush it off, say you were tired, say you had work to do.

But a part of you knew you couldn’t do that. Not to him.

So you sighed, slipping the keycard into the slot and pushing open the door. “Yeah. Sure.”

Spencer followed you in, shutting the door behind him as you plopped down on the bed. You leaned back on your hands, crossing your legs, trying to look nonchalant—trying to make this feel like nothing.

“So,” you said, offering a weak smile, “what did you want to talk about?”

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He just stood there for a moment, watching you, hands fidgeting at his sides.

A beat of silence.

“You.” The word landed between you like a grenade with the pin pulled.

Spencer took a step closer, his voice dropping. “You haven’t smiled all day. You didn’t laugh at Garcia’s joke. You didn’t even—” He cut himself off, fingers flexing at his sides. “You didn’t squeeze my hand.”

The admission hung in the air, fragile and aching.

Your stomach twisted. He noticed. Of course he noticed. You looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“That's a lie.”

Your head snapped up. Spencer was rarely so direct.

“You think I don’t know you?” he said, voice cracking. “You think I wouldn’t notice when the best part of my day just—just disappears?”

The honesty in his words punched through you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because what could you say? That some stranger’s offhand comment had unraveled you? That you’d spent the entire day replaying his words in your head like a broken record?

Unprofessional. Too much. Annoying.

Spencer took another step forward, his voice softening. “Talk to me. Please.”

Your throat tightened as you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing against your ribs.

Spencer Reid—your Spencer—was looking at you like you’d just ripped the stars from his sky.

You swallowed hard, forcing out a breath that barely made it past the knot in your chest. “It’s stupid,” you whispered.

Spencer shook his head immediately. “It’s not.”

You let out a hollow laugh, rubbing your palms over your thighs. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

His voice softened even more, barely above a breath. “And I still know it’s not stupid.”

That did it. The dam cracked, then crumbled, then completely shattered.

“Someone—someone said I was too much.” You exhaled shakily, finally putting the ugly truth into the open. “That I was being unprofessional—that I need to tone it down because I laugh too much, because I smile too much, because I don’t act like—” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists against the overwhelming sting in your eyes. “Like I belong here.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. You finally met his gaze and all you saw as fury. Not at you, never at you—but at the words that had managed to dull your light.

He took another step closer. His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if you’d let him.

“Who?” His voice was controlled, but barely.

You shook your head quickly. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me.”

God. Why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to look at you like that—like you were something precious, something irreplaceable, something he wasn’t willing to lose to someone else’s careless words?

You chewed on your bottom lip, shaking your head again. “It’s not like he was wrong, Spence.” You forced a smile, but even you could feel how empty it was. “I am a lot. And maybe I do need to—”

“Don’t.” The word was firm. Gentle, but unyielding.

Spencer exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. “You are not too much,” he said, each syllable deliberate. “And whoever made you think that doesn’t understand what this team—what I—would be without you.”

Your breath hitched, tears threatening to spill over.

“You make things better.” His voice cracked, and it nearly shattered you. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you walk into a room and not light it up?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It—it hurts.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You swiped at it quickly, but Spencer had already seen.

And that was when he finally moved.

Slowly, carefully, he reached for your hand. His fingers, warm and steady, curled around yours—just like they always did. The same comforting touch you’d given him a hundred times before.

Except this time, he was the one holding you together.

“Please don’t dim yourself because of someone who doesn’t understand how lucky they are to know you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. Your lip quivered.

Spencer slowly let go of your hand, his warmth lingering even as his fingers slipped away. He didn’t move far, though. Instead, he lowered himself in front of you.

His hand hesitated just inches from your face, his breath uneven. “Can I?” he asked softly, his fingertips ghosting near your cheek.

You swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod.

Spencer wiped away the tear with a touch so gentle it made your chest ache. But his hand didn’t drop. It hovered there, close enough that you could still feel the warmth of him.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His thumb traced just beneath your eye, barely skimming your skin, as if he could erase not just the tear but the weight of everything that had led to it.

His voice, when it came, was a whisper—rough around the edges.

“Whoever said that to you… they don’t know you. Not the way I do.”

You exhaled shakily, blinking at him.

“They don’t know the way your laugh makes even the worst days bearable.” His thumb barely moved, brushing against your cheekbone. “They don’t know how your energy—your light—makes all of us better. How it makes me better.”

A fresh tear slipped free. Spencer caught it before it could fall.

His other hand lifted then, resting gently on your knee. Another silent plea for you to believe him.

“I don’t want you to change.” His voice cracked.

You bit your lip, trying to keep the emotion at bay, but it was useless. His words—his kindness—were unraveling you.

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was gathering courage, and then—so quietly you almost didn’t hear it—

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your breath hitched. A teary-eyed smile broke across your face before you could stop it. And then—without thinking, without hesitating—you threw yourself into his arms.

Spencer barely had time to brace himself, but to your luck, he held firm, his balance steady despite the force of your embrace. His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you close.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, your voice muffled.

Spencer let out a breath. His hand moved in slow, soothing strokes along your back.

When you finally pulled back, you sniffled, brushing away the last few stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. Spencer watched you, his expression impossibly soft, his own smile small but so incredibly fond.

You inhaled deeply, gathering yourself before flashing him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow—back to being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Spencer’s ears went bright red. He opened his mouth—whether to protest or agree, you weren’t sure—but all that came out was a flustered little laugh as he ducked his head.

The next morning, Spencer was already waiting for you when you stepped into the conference room.

Two coffees sat on the table—one in front of his usual seat, the other carefully placed at yours.

You bit back a smile.

Spencer was flipping through a case file, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

“Good morning, everyone!” you greeted, voice bright and chipper, just like always.

Morgan and Emily—who had clearly been watching you like hawks since yesterday—immediately exchanged a look before turning back to you.

“There she is,” Morgan grinned, arms crossing over his chest. “I was starting to think we’d lost our sunshine.”

You smirked. “Please. You could never get rid of me that easily.”

Garcia gasped dramatically through the speakerphone. “Oh, thank God! Do you know how hard it is being the only source of light in a room full of broody FBI agents? I almost cracked under the pressure.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the team, but you weren’t really paying attention.

Because across the table, Spencer was staring at you.

Not in the way he had yesterday, all worried and desperate to fix something he didn’t understand—but in the way he always did.

With quiet awe. With warmth. With something so soft it made your heart ache.

You sank into your chair, reaching for the coffee he’d placed in front of you. The cup was still warm, and when you took a sip, it was exactly the way you liked it.

You glanced at Spencer, eyes twinkling. When you reached under the table to squeeze his hand—just like you always did—Spencer let you.

And just like that, the warmth returned. And Spencer knew, without a doubt, he would do anything to keep it shining.

[venomvalley]

FEED ME!

PART II: FRIED APPLES AND SWEETBREAD ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 8.2k words

SUMMARY:

Sevika plays a game of cat-and-mouse.

TAGS: 18+! smut with feelings (thigh riding), vomiting mentions, PTSD, graphic violence, blood and gore, a lot of character development, soft!protective!mean sevika (it’ll make sense), listen this chapter is 8k a lot happens

NOTES: there are a lot of things in here that were really cathartic to write for me (i bet u can guess one of them) so uh i hope u enjoy it!!! if it sucks, i give yall permission to beat me with hammers

-> READ ON AO3 | PART 1 / SERIES MASTERLIST

The warm body in her bed is her worst idea yet, but you had begged her so sweetly, promised that you would stay on your side as you clung to her in the living room. You have a way of shaving down her edges, making her a certain kind of weak that she thought she would never experience again.

She finally accepts the fact that's been staring her in the face since the very first night she met you: you're her responsibility, especially with your attacker still roaming the streets. Nobody will protect you like she can, has both the skills and reputation to remain unmatched in the Undercity. It has to be her.

You’re also a liar. Fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow then immediately rolled over and curled yourself against her back. So here she lay, wide awake, shoved to the edge of the mattress as you attempt to fit yourself between her ribs. The curve of your stomach sits perfectly against the small of her back, your arm thrown over her waist, gripping her shirt in a loose fist as if terrified that she'll up and leave. The heat of your breath between her shoulder blades makes her skin crawl.

Well. She’s slept in worse conditions. And she wouldn't dare move you after the day you've had. At least you're warm, and you smell nice, and maybe the flush weight of your body isn't the worst feeling in the world.

In the dead of night, she touches your hand. A ghost of fingertips over the hills and valleys of your knuckles, and your tightened fist relaxes. That's how she justifies it—an action borne not from her own want, but for your comfort.

Behind her, you stir awake, groaning against her back, and she tugs her hand away like you've burned her.

“Sorry,” you mutter, voice thick and gravelly, “but if I move right now, I'll throw up.”

She looks over her shoulder and barely makes out the curve of your cheek in the darkness. “I have a bucket.”

You exhale a pained laugh, and she tries and fails to suppress the stretch of her lips. “Oh shit, don’t make me laugh.”

“I told you to stay away from the mystery meat.”

“It smelled so good, though,” you whine, forehead thumping against the notches of her spine.

“Was it worth it?”

“No.”

A few minutes later, you relax against her, and the long, rhythmic breaths against her back tell her that you're finally asleep. Your hand returns to her belly, curling into a weak fist, and she soothes her thumb over the breadth of your knuckles.

And that's how she falls asleep, too.

The next morning, you stumble into the kitchen bleary-eyed and squinting, roused by the smell of fried apples Sevika cooks on the stove.

She’s not used to making food at home. Sees no point in it when there’s only her to worry about, and would much rather save herself both the time and effort by stopping at a food stall or sneaking snacks from the bar’s stash.

But she has a reason now. Glances over at you as you lean against the counter nearby, shirt hiked up over your bump to scratch at your belly—

Two reasons.

At least you put on underwear today.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Fried apples and sweetbread.”

You lean close to the pan, twisting toward her to keep from hitting the stove, and close your eyes on a slow inhale. “Smells amazing.”

She scoffs. “It’s fried apples. Nothing special.”

“Says you.”

Good point. You probably haven't had a fruit in months.

You stay close to her, even as she fusses in the kitchen to collect plates and silverware. At one point, she almost elbows you in the stomach because you needed to be right behind her at the drawers, and she hisses back a sharp breath. Spins around to snap at you.

“Can you just—” at the sight of your stiffened shoulders, she cuts herself off, inhales deep and counts to ten, “sit down.”

She isn’t used to this. People crowding her space, her apartment housing an extra body. And she definitely isn't used to the sniffling coming from her kitchen table.

She makes your plate of food then puts it down in front of you. You sit with your head in your hands, elbows balanced atop the table. By the time she’s ready for her own breakfast, you haven't even touched yours.

“What, you don't wanna eat?”

Your only response is to push the plate away, still sniffling into your hand.

She considers the best way to go about this without making the situation worse. Considers ignoring you, letting you cry it out, but she doesn't wanna do that. She feels bad.

So she scratches at the back of her neck, peeking at you from beneath her brow. “I didn't mean to upset you, but I don't want you hurt.”

“I know,” you grumble, voice gravelly and pouting. “Just hurt my feelings.”

“Then eat.” She moves your plate back across the table. “It won’t be good cold.”

With one final sniff, you pick up your fork and cut a piece of syrupy apple in half.

“It's good with the bread,” she says, picking up a piece and motioning for your fork.

She stabs at a few slices of apple then mashes them into the toast, spreading the syrup over top. Your eyes glaze over as you track the motions of her hands, your crying spell quickly forgotten at the sight of good-smelling food. She reaches you the slice, and you immediately bite into it.

At your low moan, the closing of puffy eyes, her lips twitch toward a smile. “Good?”

You hum in response, nodding your head. “Amazing. Thank you.”

Always a ‘thank you’, she's noticed. Grateful to a fault.

“I’m going to the markets today. You can come, stop by the consignment shop.”

She doesn’t know how else to make the morning up to you aside from buying you a few gifts. Things to occupy you when she inevitably leaves you alone for a few days.

In a few hours, you're back on the streets with a familiar hand in hers. The Lanes in particular have no doubt noticed your presence by now, some strange woman following her around like a lost puppy. All they do is talk around here. Let them.

The consignment shop is relatively close to her apartment, and yet you still have to stop a few times to rest, complaining about the ache in your back. She waits, though. Knows a thing or two about pain.

Your mood brightens when you step into the small building, heading straight for the small section of books and tomes. She glances around the place, walls stacked floor to ceiling with all manner of objects, some useful and some decidedly not.

You pick various books up, tilt your head as you read an excerpt, then slot them back onto the shelf. Over and over again, making slow work of the first section.

Picky woman.

She walks over to you, hovering nearby to let you concentrate in silence with an adorable furrow to your brow.

“Do you like to read?” you ask, sparing her no more than a glance before turning back to the page you opened to.

“I stopped reading after my mom died.”

An olive branch. She knows something horrible about you, and now you know the same. Can count on one hand how many people she’s mentioned her mother to.

Your lips curl into a sad frown as you set down the book in your hands. “Can I ask how she died?”

Sevika swallows, eyes flickering down to the swell of your belly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Did she read to you?”

You breeze past the question like you never even asked it, and she’s grateful. This isn’t a good place to start opening up old wounds.

She nods, trailing behind you as you waddle down the small aisle. “We didn’t have much, but she bought these picture books that we’d flip through before bed. I never really gave a shit about any of the words.”

Up ahead, you laugh, looking over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “I can see that.”

“What about your parents?”

You sigh. “Well, let’s see. My dad died in the mines when I was little, my sibling was stabbed to death in an alleyway, and my mom just… up and left when I was sixteen.”

A backstory all-too-common in the Undercity. Throw a cog in the street and hit a hundred traumatized people.

“I can't believe you turned out so…”

“Weak?” You scoff, picking up a thick book before reading its spine. “Yeah, my mom always said I was nothing like her. Hear that enough from somebody you can't stand, and you start being proud of it.”

Sevika blows out a breath, running a finger along the dusty shelf you stand next to. “I understand that more than you think.”

She bucked against her old man’s discipline for years. Fought her way out of the box he tried time after time to shove her in. Hard to believe, but there was a point in her life when she resembled you a bit too much.

But the world has a funny way of teaching you when the words of your parents fall on deaf ears. And teach her, it did.

“Regardless of what happened, I think we turned out alright.” You give her a small smile, expression absent in your eyes.

You turn back around to keep sorting through the books.

.

.

.

Another month goes by without incident. But with your mobility slowly decreasing, she finds herself at your feet more often than she ever expected to. Helping you with your socks and shoes, grabbing cookware from the bottom cabinet, picking up the items that you drop.

It's weirdly domestic.

One day, she wakes up to you plastered against her side, snoring into her shoulder, and she can't remember a life without you in it. That morning, she laid there for an embarrassingly long time just soaking up your warmth, the weight of your arm over her ribs, the leg tangled with hers.

She's fucked. No coming back from this. You’ve burrowed a place for yourself beneath all the rot, a speck of star in the expanse of midnight sky, and she doesn’t think you’ll ever dig yourself out. Doesn’t think she wants you to.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she steps into the doorway of her bedroom where you rest beneath the sheets of her bed. You've slept a lot the past few days, eaten your weight in the pastries she's brought home. Not that she minds—it means you feel safe.

“I'll be gone for a few days.”

She doesn't want to leave you, doubly so when fear washes over your face, leaves you wide-eyed and frowning from where your face sticks out of the blanket.

“Do you have to go?” you ask, voice so broken and pitiful that she almost says fuck it and sets her bag down to lounge with you the rest of the day.

Instead, she sighs out through her nose, eyes closing to block out your pleading expression. “I do. Important business.”

Doing Silco's dirty work. She doesn't tell you that, but you already know.

“Just be careful, okay? I gotta tell you about the book I've been reading when you get back.”

She nods, hovers in the shadows of her dark apartment for a long moment before reciting her usual rule: don't go out unless you need to. At this point, you can quote it right alongside her.

She stays long enough to commit your lazy smile to memory before dragging herself out the door.

While she's away, she takes the opportunity to look into her mystery man once again. Silco's late to their meeting, no doubt some bullshit with Jinx holding him up, but today, she's grateful for it. The conversation she overhears at the bar between two of Smeech's goons is just what she needs.

“—swear, I thought the kid was gonna shit himself.”

The man closest to her, face pockmarked with scars, laughs low and wheezing. “Shit, did he tell you why?”

“Something about this girl he knocked up. He's worried she'll try to use the kid against him.”

Her fingers tighten around her glass, the liquid inside untouched. She doesn't drink much these days, but she can still keep up appearances. Loose lips and all that.

The man beside her whistles, shakes his head. “Man, that's rough. He say what he was gonna do?”

“Well, he's gotta find the bitch first. Saw her at that market thing last month, so she's clearly alive.”

The muscles in her legs tense up to keep her seated, but she wants nothing more than to get up and smash the guy’s teeth out against the bar top.

“Bet somebody’s hiding her.”

Before she can act on it, they finish their drinks and leave, passing by her in a tipsy rush as they fuss over being late to wherever they’re going.

At least she has information to go on, something tangible for the first time in a solid month. There’s no doubt in her mind that you’re the bitch they refer to, and now she knows that he’s looking for you.

Fuck, she hopes you stay inside. She doesn’t want to have to tell you all this, to stress you out for the sake of the kid.

So she’ll have to stop by their hideout, have a little talk with the guys at the bar. It's been a while since she's had a good game of cat-and-mouse.

.

.

.

The next day, she returns to a cold, stale silence inside her apartment. Different than when you’re sleeping or in the bathroom when she gets home. Empty.

She checks the other rooms to make sure and, just like she suspected, you’re not here. Shoes no longer near the front door, jacket still thrown over the back of the couch, a dent taken out of the money she always leaves behind.

Panic. The first place her brain goes. Did you leave in a hurry? Were you in trouble? Had he already tracked you here?

This is exactly why she never wanted to get attached. Sevika is not irrational. The word has no business in her damn vocabulary, and yet here she is, pacing a hole in the floor, fucking up her hair with her fingers because you're not here and the Undercity is a big place and she has no idea where to even start looking.

But she has to start.

She leaves out the front door and beelines down the hallway, shaking the nerves from her hands. Just as she goes to exit the building, a hooded figure steps inside.

There's no mistaking the roundness of your belly, the shape of your body even beneath the familiar cloak draped over your shoulders (an old one she used to wear, left folded in the bottom of a drawer).

You spot her with a wide smile. “Sevika, hey—“

She strides up then pulls you into a hug, arms tight around your shoulders, and you squeak as the breath leaves you in a rush, a paper bag rustling in hand. You wrap your unoccupied arm around her waist, hood falling off the back of your head.

“Nice to see you, too.”

She pulls away and takes your face between your hands, brows pinching up in the center. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Don’t make me worry. Don’t make me think about you every moment I’m awake. Don’t make me care.

“What?” Confusion washes over your face, and you grasp at her wrist. “I just went to get food.”

Not what she’s talking about, but she doesn’t expect you to understand. Neither does she, really. The special place that she's sets aside for you in her heart.

Even without the similarities to your situation and her deepest regrets, she—

Well. That seems to be the problem. You're her second chance.

“Whatever, just… let's go.”

Admittedly, she's frustrated when she walks back to the apartment with you in tow. All that stressing for nothing. Deals with enough bullshit on a daily basis without adding you into the mix.

She collapses onto the couch, balances an elbow on the armrest, and worries a hand over her forehead. Bone-deep exhausted. It’s been a long two days.

You settle in next to her, plastered against her side, and open your paper bag. The smell hits her: pastries from the small bakery down the street.

“I got some berry muffins. Wasn’t sure what kind you like, so they gave me a variety.” Huh. How thoughtful of you. “You gotta be hungry.”

“I'm not.”

“Oh, don't be that way. You need to eat.” You hold up a muffin in front of her face, waving it around as if to entice her. “They're really good,” you sing, and she turns to glare at you.

“I'm not a baby.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

She takes the food from your hand with a huff and bites a large chunk out of it to shut you up.

Apple. Go figure.

“Good, right?”

Might be the best she’s ever had.

She shrugs. “I’ve had better.”

With a scoffing laugh, you shove at her shoulder. “Liar.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you eat. A dozen muffins gone in five minutes, so full you don't even want to move.

Sevika sighs. “So. How have you been?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well. Nightmares.”

She hasn’t either. Can't sleep anymore without a warm weight against her back.

“What kind of nightmares?”

“The scary kind.” You rest your head on her shoulder, folding then unfolding the paper bag in your hands. “Just feel like something bad is gonna happen. I dunno.”

She can't tell you what she learned at the bar. You're still too skittish, too emotional to not freak out, and that's even more dangerous than being kept in the dark. At least you're safe with her, but she can't protect you if you decide to run off while she's gone.

She leans her weight against you, just enough to remind you that she's here. “If it does, we'll handle it.”

“What if you're gone?”

“Trust me. I'll know about it.”

Your cheek moves against her shoulder, and she looks over to find you grinning. “I'm so glad I'm not on your bad side.”

.

.

.

Venturing into Smeech’s territory is always an uncomfortable affair. The chaos is worse here, streets littered with trash and tossed-aside food and cigarette butts. Darker, too. Oppressive.

At least she knows the way to her destination. Stopped here a few times to swap information about one thing or another, and for the most part, the people she passes leave her be. She ignores the ones who don't.

When she steps inside the small building, the air fogs up with smoke so thick she heaves a cough. Packed with all types of people: working girls curled up in laps, soot-covered miners chatting at the bar, Smeech’s goons gathered around tables at the back. It only takes her a few moments of searching the crowd before she finds the pockmarked man from the bar, sat in the corner with two other men over a round of drinks.

She strolls up to the table and plops down in an unoccupied chair, and the men pay her no mind, still deep in conversation.

“Got a question for you boys,” she says, loud enough for them to hear over the crowd.

The one with the pockmarks snorts her way, taking a large gulp of his drink. “Who’s asking?”

“Me.” She leans forward when they turn to finally look at her, resting her metal arm atop the table. “I have some information one of your friends might be interested in.”

They all lean forward at that, setting their glasses down.

“Is’at right?”

“Heard from a little birdie that somebody’s looking for a pregnant girl. I know where she is.”

She’d never offer you up to them, but just the thought of their hands anywhere near you makes nausea broil in her stomach. Has to remind herself for a moment that this isn’t real. She’s playing pretend.

The pockmarked man slowly nods, gaze sharpening as he sizes her up. “Alright. Kid’ll wanna know that.”

“What’s his name? I can go find him.”

Hook.

“Or I can tell him for you.”

She shakes her head, face twitching into a grimace. “No can do. His ears only.”

Line.

He glares at her a long moment, tongue swiping over his teeth in some unnecessary display of bravado. One she doesn’t have time for.

With a disappointed sigh, she rises to her feet. Says, “No name, no information.”

And just as she goes to turn away—

“Alright, alright. Kid goes by Joker. Hangs out around The Smiling Jack. Know where that is?”

Sinker.

“I do.”

Easiest interrogation of her life. Barely worth the damn time it took to get here.

She leaves without turning back.

.

.

.

Sevika opens her eyes that morning and knows that something bad is gonna happen. Doesn't know what, or why, or how, but anxious dread settles like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

The feeling follows her throughout the day. Through her trip to the docks for a package, then to Silco's for its delivery, then down to the markets to settle a minor territory dispute. By the time she makes it back to Silco's office, she's exhausted yet wound-up. Expecting a fight with the unknown while fully unprepared.

The time comes when a bouncer creeps into his office, wide-eyed and wary. “Sevika. Hate to bother you, but there’s a girl downstairs wanting to talk to you. I didn’t know what to tell her.”

She already knows it’s you. Doesn’t even have to ask as she strides past him to the balcony overlooking the dance floor. And for you to be here, to leave the safety of her apartment past dark can only mean one thing: trouble.

It’s horrible timing. She has a meeting with Silco any moment, and here you are, huddled in the corner of the club, face shadowed by your hood. You look small, defenseless, ripe for the picking.

She stomps down the steps to the ground floor, people from the crowd staring as she crosses the room to meet you.

“What happened?” she asks, hand rising to rest on your shoulder as she looks you over for injuries.

You tremble beneath her touch, wide-eyed beneath the hood of her old cloak. “I went to the bakery to get some more muffins and these guys were standing outside the apartment when I walked out, and I noticed that they were following me but I didn’t know what to do so I went to the bakery anyway—“ you inhale a deep breath, growing more frantic as your story goes on, “and Tayla was there behind the counter. You haven’t met her but she’s really sweet and when I told her what happened she told me to hide in the back room until they left.”

You pause a moment to look around before continuing, “They stood outside for so long, to the point that I fell asleep at this desk they have in the office, and as soon as I woke up I came here.”

Sevika blinks. Tries to process the mountain of information you just gave her. So two men found out where you were staying, followed you to the bakery, then you came here.

Which means they could’ve followed you here. You can’t leave yet, not without her.

Stupid fucking meetings.

The hand on your shoulder squeezes to draw your attention back to her. “Listen. I've got a guy outside. Tell him you're with me, and he'll watch you until I'm finished here.”

One of Silco’s loyalists, a man she’s worked with countless times before. Hopefully, you know what to say. She doesn’t have time for a debrief.

“No, please–” You reach out to grab her, shaking hands tight around her wrist. “Please don't leave me.”

“I have to.” More than anything, she wishes she didn't. “Wait outside.”

She urges you toward the door with a gentle hand on your back, then heads back up to the office. Silco already sits in his chair when she strolls in, fingers tapping impatiently on his desk.

He scolds her for being late, and that’s the only thing she comprehends for the entirety of the meeting with you worming around in her skull. Something that happens more often these days.

You’re driving her crazy.

He can tell that she's distracted—as if it isn't the most obvious thing in the fucking world—but lets it go in favor of dismissing her once he's gone over the week's activities.

She doesn't hesitate to leave, bullying her way through the club, and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the man she secondhand entrusted you to tossing back drinks at a nearby table.

Her first mistake was thinking some asshole would actually do his job.

She drags him out of the chair by the collar of his shirt, the glass in his hand shattering on the floor. “You're supposed to be outside.”

He stutters, eyes widening in surprise. “I was! I just came in to get a drink.”

“Where's the girl?”

He squints up at her. Clearly had more than just a drink. “Huh?”

Her hand tightens around his collar. “The girl I told you to watch.”

“Shit, she’s fine! I left her right outside, next to the door.”

With a frustrated growl, she shoves him away and leaves for the alley.

The first thing she hears when she steps out the door is a hushed conversation:

Who have you told?

Nobody, I swear.

She turns the corner and spots two figures against the wall, one trapping the other with a hand on their face. No mistaking you.

“Long way from home, Joker,” she calls, boots thumping on the pavement.

A surprised laugh echoes off the walls as he releases you, stepping away to spread out his arms. “Sevika. I heard you were lookin’ for me. Also heard you've been walking around the Lanes with a little stray nipping at your heels.”

Her lips twist into a scowl at his mocking tone, and she glances over at you huddled against the wall, a shaking hand pressed to your cheek.

“Let’s get on with it,” she growls, prosthetic hand clenching into a fist at her side.

He stops. Shakes out his arms as spider-like fingers elongate, each metal joint bending back with a squeal as they separate into razor-sharp knives beneath the sleeves of his coat.

Huh. Never seen that before.

Sevika readies herself. Tosses her cloak aside and adjusts her stance, heart pounding against her chest, blood burning hot in preparation for a fight.

This is what you saw before he—

He propels himself forward, crossing the distance between them in an instant. She sidesteps at the last second, head twisting away from his clawing hand. But she isn’t quick enough. The needle tip of a finger cuts across her brow, a stream of blood catching on the corner of her eye.

They turn to face each other. Her focus narrows as she sizes him up, lets him back her away from the mouth of the alley while your form slowly fades into the shadows.

That’s it, asshole. Keep it coming.

“Why you running?” he asks, smile toothy and wide. “Is the big, bad Sevika scared?”

He lets his guard down, slightly rising from a crouch, movements quick but imprecise, stance novice-like. Cocky.

Boring.

She rushes him, her prosthetic fingers slotting between his claws and twisting, bending them back with a spark of light. Her other fist catches the edge of his jaw, a crack from her knuckles as he stumbles onto a knee, arm stretched out behind him from her grip on his mangled fingers.

She rectifies that by ripping them out. Tossing them behind her.

“Scared, am I?” she asks, skirting the range of those annoying ass knives to face him. “Get the fuck up.”

He stumbles to his feet in a rage, growling as he runs at her again. Stabs his arm out when she ducks under his slash but fails to turn his hip into the motion, leaving his left side wide open. Exactly what she needed.

It takes less than two seconds for her to block with her fleshy arm and plant her metal fingers between two of his ribs. To shove him back until he hits the wall, teeth bared as he growls and spits blood from his mouth. Yanks his hand in an attempt to dislodge his claws.

Thankfully, her forearm wasn’t impaled, but the blood pours down her bicep and shoulder. Cut all to shit.

She heaves a much-needed sigh to calm the pounding of her heart, wriggles her arm out of his hold and presses it to her stomach to stem the bleeding. “Congratulations. This was the most boring fight I’ve ever been in.”

Anticlimactic, really. She didn’t expect him to go down so easily after all that bravery. Look where his shit-talking got him.

She yanks out her prosthetic hand with a wet squelch, and he slides down the wall, gritting his teeth around a pained cry.

From the corner of her eye, she sees it: the swing of a pipe. She stumbles away before it can hit her, eyes wide as your form comes into view, your face contorted in pure rage. It meets the side of his head with a squishy thump, knocking him to the ground.

She steps out of the way.

You need this. An outlet for your pain, to give the finishing blow. Sevika did her part.

She lets you bludgeon him as she catches her breath, wiping her face off with the hem of her shirt. It’s a bloody affair, already drying on her prosthetic and clothes, and the spray of his blood covers you, too.

You, consumed by anger, screaming at him until your voice grows hoarse:

I fucking hate you.

You ruined my life.

Motherfucker. Asshole. Piece of shit.

When you start coughing, she looks over at you. Still going, kicking at him with an exhausted foot. His head isn’t even a head anymore, just a bowl for brain and blood and tissue. No coming back from that. Gone.

It’s over.

She steps in. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you back to her chest with little effort, smearing her blood on your shirt and skin. You struggle against her, wriggling beneath her hold, and she presses a cheek to your temple.

“Alright. Hey, it's done. You got him, honey.”

She scrubs a calloused hand up and down your arm because she knows the adrenaline crash well, and the way you collapse into her, chest heaving for breath, blares a warning that you’re already there.

Which is how she knows what comes next.

You rip free from her and stumble over to the wall, palms flat against the brick as you throw up and cough and heave until your lungs threaten to collapse.

Yeah. She doesn't miss those days.

She walks up to you as the pain of her injury finally blooms, and soothes a hand over your back as you brace your body against the wall, legs threatening to give.

“It’ll pass soon.”

You spit onto the pavement. Turn to glance up at her with red, teary eyes. “I’m aware.”

Still, the anger consumes you. She knows that feeling well. Shaped hers into a weapon, a default state of being after everything else failed her. Too bad that finally worked—anger is a hard emotion to shake.

You rest a hand over your stomach with a wet cough, turning to fully face her. “Fuck, I feel awful.”

“Water will help.” She holds out a bloody hand, and you take it, eyes empty and lifeless as you meet her stare. “Come on.”

She spares what’s left of Joker little more than a glance as the two of you pass by, but takes a moment to grab her cloak from the ground. He doesn’t deserve recognition even in death, and she shields you from the sight, steering you away with an arm across your shoulders.

The bouncers wave you inside, and she stops to tell them what happened. They’ll find somebody to take care of it. Always do.

She sits you down at an unoccupied corner of the bar where the shadows bleed deepest. You’re about to have a really bad time, and you deserve the privacy to unpack everything until she can get you home.

You down the cup of water she brings you in four big gulps, then hand it back and ask if she can bring you another. And then another, and another. After the third cup, she cuts you off. You’re no doubt one sip away from throwing up all over the floor.

She sits down beside you, a thick towel from the bar tied around her weeping arm. You’re bloody from head-to-toe, some hers but most his, glistening to an almost comedic extent beneath the flashing neon lights.

You stare ahead, blinking in thought. Calm.

Shock.

“I just killed someone.”

Back here, the music muffles, quieter than on the main floor. Don’t have to scream even when you sit right next to each other.

“You did.”

“I got you hurt.”

“He did.”

“I shouldn’t have come here. What if he killed you?”

She coughs out an amused laugh. “That prick? I’m insulted.”

You don’t laugh, or smile, or joke back with her. You just sit there, still as stone.

“I lied to you before.”

She pauses, leans in as your voice shrinks to hear over the vibrating bass. “About?”

“I did know him. We… we used to be friends, I guess, through his sister. I lived with her family after my mom died, and he was always really nice to me until… well. You know the rest.”

“So how'd you end up on the street?”

You swallow thick, eyes misting beneath the lights. “I tried to tell my friend what happened, but she didn't believe me. Said she knew her brother and he'd never do something like that.” You wipe a frustrated hand over your eyes. “She kicked me out. Didn’t even let me get my shit.”

Everything makes a lot more sense now. Why he was so adamant on finding you. Why you were in that alley in the first place. What the goons meant when he said you could use the kid against him.

Something inside her shatters. A crumbling of walls at the sight of you collapsing into sobs.

She wraps you up in an awkward side hug, arm exploding with pain, but she doesn't know what else to do. Can't say anything that would make the hurt stop.

.

.

.

The two of you are seated on the couch again. Hours out from a shower, teeth brushed, ready for bed. But neither of you can move from this spot. The soft cushions seek to swallow you up after the day you’ve had.

Nobody's ever brushed her hair for her. Maybe her mom when she was little. It's not like she'd actually let someone, but you're the first person to ever offer, and she’s so exhausted she took you up on it.

It’s nice. Nicer than she expected. You’re gentle about it, brushing from ends to roots, combing your fingers through each section afterward to make sure that all the tangles are out. She could fall asleep right now.

A tangible, piercing weight against the side of her face makes her turn her head. Your gaze tends to do that. Affection so thick it manifests into reality.

“Your hair looks pretty like this,” you say, soft and content.

“A mess?”

“Mhmm. You look a lot more relaxed.”

She shoots you an unimpressed look. “Haven't relaxed a day in my life.”

You set the brush down on the coffee table then cuddle closer to her, testing the boundaries of her personal space. She wants to say something, to push you away, but she's exhausted and—

And frankly, she doesn't fucking want to. You're warm and soft, and she needs that right now. The comfort, the companionship. Things she's deprived herself of for years, decades at this point. But there's not a fucking point anymore. You're bonded for life, share the blood on your hands of a man who deserved a fate worse than death.

Her eyes catch the swollen curve of your nose, the abrasion on your cheek, and she's ready to kill him again. She scrubbed the blood from beneath her nails hours ago, and yet she still feels it there, cloying and sticky.

She stares at you, brows pinching together, half-terrified and half-angry. “I don’t know how to be anything else besides this.”

Cold and cruel. A weapon of destruction. Lonely. A lot of very bad things.

“Then don’t.” You shrug, as if your solution is common sense. Easy. “But I think you want to be a worse person than you actually are. I mean, you saved me from that alley.”

“I almost left you there.”

“But you didn’t.”

She stares at you, eyes flickering over your features—the curve of your cheeks, the shape of your lips, the color of your eyes. You hold no resentment, no anger for her admission. For a moment, she almost believes you.

“I wanted to.”

But you have no idea what kind of person she is. The shadows that haunt her.

”But you didn’t.” You lean in close, close enough for her to count your lashes, for the curve of your belly to press against her side, and she holds her breath. “And you buy me books, and cook me food, and put my socks on. You let me cuddle you. You make me feel better when I’m sad.”

Don't do this to me. Please don't do this. I can't take it.

Things weren't supposed to go like this. She did what she thought was right, and now her entire world has upended because of you. She's soft now, malleable with you around. It's dangerous. Could fuck up everything she's worked so hard for, the empire she helped build with the teachings from her old man.

You brush a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb caressing her skin just above the jagged cut on her eyebrow, so tender she could cry, and she blinks away the mist in her eyes as you smile—that same smile with your crescent-shaped eyes and full cheeks. So much fuller since she saw you that night in the alley.

She did that. Something so gratifying about watching you get better in her care.

Maybe you’re right.

“You’re good to me.” Her heart threatens to shatter her ribs, right hand fisting the fabric of her pants as you rest your palm on the curve of her knee. “I'm so glad for that. Glad I met you.”

So is she. Her life has meaning on a human-need level. Someone to come back to, that’s seen the worst in her and still chose to stay. A home that feels like home, with your little decorations laid out across the apartment, your own personal fingerprint that brings life to the space.

She doesn’t say and of that, though. Couldn’t form the words if she tried.

So she kisses you instead. Hopes you understand from the press of her mouth that the feeling is mutual and terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

It's what you've been waiting for, coaxing her toward all evening. Pitiful little thing, so desperate for love that you settle for hers. All but worthless and you don't even know it yet, but a part of her knows that you wouldn’t care.

Once your lips meet, neither of you can stop. A crescendo of the last three months together—the eggshell-walking and the what-ifs, and she tried to prevent this for as long as she could, but she knows a thing or two about inevitability.

You kiss her like you love her, like you pour your soul into each flick of your tongue against hers. Sevika doesn't do things in quarters or halves, and neither do you. She understands that now. All or nothing.

Her metal hand cups the underside of your thigh, dragging you into her lap. You smell nice, ripe at the curve of your neck where she layers wet, sucking kisses. You whisper her name like a promise, comb scratching fingers through her hair, and she fights every cell in her body to keep from marking you with her teeth.

Not now. Not yet. Some time soon when you stop feeling like glass in her hands.

You grip the strands at the base of her skull, tilting her head back against the couch, and her lips spread into a salacious smile at the bite of pain in her scalp.

Seems her stray kitten has claws.

You fit your thumb inside her mouth, following the blunt underside of her front teeth. Back and forth, before you press against the wet heat of her tongue.

“So pretty,” you mutter, eyes lidded as they roam the features of her face, as if you’re seeing her for the first time.

She bites you. Just hard enough for you to jolt, a jarring scrape of her teeth against the fleshy pad of your thumb. You pull away in a fit of giggles, smacking her lightly on the right arm.

“Don't do that!”

“Don't call me pretty.”

Don’t let me be vulnerable.

“Then what can I call you?” You lean forward, mouth brushing along the curve of her jaw. “Beautiful?” A kiss just below her ear. “Handsome?” Another against the pulse of her neck.

Heat wells in the pit of her stomach at your words, at the kisses you trail down her neck and across the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

You sit back with a huff, lips twisted up in a pout. “Then I'll call you all of them.”

She rolls her eyes, response quickly ripped from her thoughts when you suck a rough kiss into her collarbone, and then the curve of her jaw, and then the column of her throat. A hand cradles the back of your neck as your hips grind against her, thumb following your thumping pulse.

“I'm sorry,” you pant into her shoulder, nipping her with your teeth, “but you're so pretty and it's been so long—”

She shushes you, lips ghosting against your temple. “Take what you need.”

You whine into her neck, shuffling your legs around to straddle a muscular thigh, and she curls a warm palm over the curve of your ass. Thicker here, too, filled out everywhere. You lean back, balance yourself with both hands on her knee, and rut your hips against the rough fabric of her pants.

You’re a sight to behold. Head thrown back to expose the column of your throat, full tits bouncing under your shirt with each pass you make over her thigh. The wet spot your cunt leaves behind drives her a little crazy, sunburst-hot between the legs. She wonders what you taste like, how tight you’d be around her fingers. How wet she can get you. How many times she can make you cum in a row.

How good she can make you feel.

“Needed this, didn't you?” she rasps, hands moving to your hips to help you build up a steady rhythm.

“Yes—“ You lift your head to look at her, head lolling on your shoulder, slack-jawed, brows tilted up in pleasure. “Fuck. Please.”

“I know.” She cups a hand over the back of your neck, eyes roaming over your face. (So pretty. So sweet. So soft.) “I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t expect you to start crying. To nuzzle against her wrist and repeat the same two words over and over again:

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Her heart aches like a fresh bruise. You’ve suffered so much, more than she probably knows, and still, you’re good. Soft and sweet. Weak. Ill-fitted for the world of the Undercity.

You collapse forward with a ragged gasp, forehead fitting perfectly in the curve of her shoulder. Like you were made for each other.

(A good thing she found you then.)

Curled up against her, your body tenses, lungs seizing as you rock against her so hard the couch creaks.

And then everything stops. You breathe again, your muscles relax, you press a kiss to her lips that tastes like the salt of tears.

“Thank you,” you whisper, panting breath ghosting over her mouth.

She grins, hand soothing over the curve of your back. “Any time.”

You exhale a laugh, hiding your face in her shoulder. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“A little?”

“Stop. It’s embarrassing.”

“Quite the show, though.” The slick mess she’s made in her pants is proof of that. “I liked it.”

You whine, carefully rolling off her lap to the cushion beside her. “It’s not nice to tease people.”

“Do you know who you’ve been living with?”

You try to glare at her, though your venom is less potent with how fucked-out you look. Reminds her of the pent-up heat in the pit of her stomach.

She needs a damn shower—twenty minutes, hot water, and her imagination. A few good orgasms should do the trick.

“Do you want me to…” Your hand finds its way to the inner curve of her thigh, and her hips twitch in response, a silent invitation completely out of her control.

Not that she doesn’t want it (fuck, she does), but your eyes struggle to stay open, unfocused as you look up at her.

“You’re falling asleep.”

“I still want to.”

She shakes her head, curls her fingers around your wrist. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of it.”

“Can I watch?”

She rises to her feet with a hoarse laugh then pats you on the leg. “No. Bed.”

Twenty minutes, a stream of hot water, her imagination, and three orgasms later, she falls into bed beside you and promptly passes the hell out.

She wakes up beside you in nothing but a pair of underwear, face down against the sheets. Has no idea how she didn’t smother to death in her sleep.

When she turns her head, she finds you already awake with your nose in some book she brought home last week, lit by the morning sun that streams in through the window. Glowing. Beautiful.

Shit. She has it bad.

“Can I ask you something?”

At the sound of her voice, you smile, looking away from your book. “Of course.”

“You plan on keeping the kid?”

The first thing out of her mouth, a bit impulsive from the foggy remnants of sleep. A question she’s been wondering this whole time.

You wince like she's smacked you across the face, and she wishes she could take the words back. “Listen…” a heavy sigh, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel protective over her. It's not something I can even explain—”

“You don't have to.”

Your head drops, and you fiddle with the pages of your book. “Sevika, I don't have anybody. But I can… I can start over now, give her a good life. We don't have to run anymore.”

“You keep saying ‘her’.”

“She's a girl. I can feel it.” You look down at your belly, head tilting to the side as you give it a steady pat. “It's funny. I don't even know how far along I am.”

Sevika blinks. Never realized that she doesn't either. “Then you need a doctor.”

“Can't afford one.”

“I can.” She shrugs, as if her solution is common sense. Easy.

“I'm not gonna ask you to do that.”

She sits up with a pained groan (fuck, she needs to change her bandage) and ignores the way your eyes lock on to her bare chest. Bites back a teasing grin. “I offered. And besides, we gotta make sure the kid's okay.”

You look at her like she hangs the stars in your sky. “See what I mean? You’re so good to me.” A chaste kiss to her lips, the ghosting taste of cheap tea. “More than you realize.”

Maybe if you say it enough, she'll start to believe it.

Maybe a part of her already does.

[cj-the-random-artist]

I have made. Another comic. I took a very, very long time, as usual lmao. I originally got inspired to make this after watching through Arcane cuz. Nicely done media makes me want to make things and all that. And, at that time, I'd sent Narinder out on a mission trip in my new save and he came home full of existential dread (I have terrible luck with Narinder on missions therefore so does QPR AU Lambert I guess lol), and it had occurred to me that that would make an interesting premise for a comic maybe?? Turns out it did.

I think I'm happy with this?? The perfectionist in me is not, and to be honest I think I could've drawn a lot of things better and also I think this would read better if it felt a little slower... but also it's 13 pages long so I can't fault myself all that much. I do wish I had spent more time on some of these interactions, particularly between Lambert and the Goat and also between Narinder and his siblings, I have a lot of thoughts about the Bishops post their joining the cult but I haven't had a ton of time to really like... flesh out those ideas as much as I would like to. Maybe someday?? Idk.

Semi-related, while this comic gave me a lot of thoughts about the Bishops it also gave me a lot of thoughts about like, the exact like, I guess boundaries and terms of Narinder and Lambert's QPR, and also about what exactly happened to Narinder while he was out, and he's not lying a lot did happen but that's a little too long to just throw in the description here so maybe future me will describe it somewhere or something. This comic also got me thinking about Webber a fair bit, and once day I will expand upon those thoughts but not today, I have outside activities today lol

Anyways. This comic, like all my art, is not perfect, but it was fun to make and I spent too long on it for nobody to see it, so... enjoy!!

[nmakii]

must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for @itoshiluvbot. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.