#REDACTED x reader

[despairots]

DILUTE ME!

this is meant for older audiences, but if you are under the age of 18, i can not stop you from reading this.

story contains: light suggestive themes, yandere themes, ren/[REDACTED] should be a warning itself, mentions of murdering, etc. reader is a bit timid and shy when with [REDACTED] in this but they’re usually sultry and sweet.

context: yandere! reader gets over their sick and twisted ways of showing their love but finds it hard to keep it in once getting with their partner. gn! reader

you didn’t know what lend to this. you swore you got over the tendencies, the habit, the absolute anger you’d feel once you see another person that’s not you making a move on what’s supposed to be yours. why did he let this happen? why was this girl flirting with him infront of you?

your lips pulled itself into a tight line, your face pulling a look of absolute disgust, keeping the thought of bashing her head into the brick wall at bay, but how long could you keep it in until you just gave in and did every horrible thing possible to her?

god, how much longer will she try? actually, why hasn’t ren said anything yet? your eyes shifted from her figure to his, catching every detail of their face snd engraving it into memory. it didn’t matter how many times you do it, they look better every time you do.

your mouth went to open before it shut when she let out an obnoxious laugh. your eyebrow twitched, clutching onto your boyfriends hand even tighter, biting your tongue back. please, please, please, you thought you were better than this. unfortunately, you’ve went back to your default settings.

“leave them alone, you tramp.” you muttered under your breath, letting her only hear it (not knowing he picked it up aswell) before you scoffed at her and pulled ren away. mind was racing with different ways to dispose of her, as ren could only stare at you with puppy eyes.

back to your shared room, you stripped yourself out of your clothes, digging through his clothes and putting them on. any sort of reminder of them as you kept going back to the girl who kept flirting with them. who the hell did she think she was?

ren saw the way you glared at her, saw the way you bit your tongue back to snap at her when she got a little close, they loved it. now, watching you mentally mutter insults to yourself about that unknown whilst in their clothing, all he could think about was you.

how your scent would linger in their clothing, how you were so willingly to strip in front of him and wear their clothing. you looked so small in it, compared to him. ren watched you turn your back away from them, a slight twinge pulled at his chest. were you mind at him?

“are you mad at me, angel?” one of their hands lifted his oversized shirt on, trailing their fingers up and down your back, feeling your smooth skins and the way you shivered from his touch. “i—i’m not mad at you.” the way you ended your sentence with venom made him smile a bit.

ren trailed their fingers over to your stomach until wrapping his arm around it and pulling you back to his chest, hearing you yelp at the sudden pull. from this position, ren could see the growing blush from your cheeks as you tried hiding it in your arm and pillow.

“did… did you think she was cute?” their real name slipped from your tongue, and he couldn’t help but pull a face of disgust when you asked. she couldn’t compete to you in any other way. ren kept a note in disposing her later once you fell asleep, they didn’t want you to think he was attracted to her.

ren placed small kisses onto the back of your neck, hearing you breathe softly each time he made in contact with your skin, “you’re all i want.” their voice was muffled against the crook of your neck, as you flipped around and placed a gentle hand on his cheeks, a soft smile on your face.

“go to sleep, okay? i promise to give you treat later. remember? poorly behaved dogs get not treat.” fuck, that was hot. once you say that, there was no turning back, the both of you would last hours. ren’s eyes widened until their lips pulled into a light smirk, his hand going to the back of your head and pulling you into a deep kiss.

your hand slid down to his chest, finding itself slipping underneath their clothing and resting it there. a light moan escaped your mouth when ren took control, his tongue slipped into your mouth, marking every inch of it until they pulled away, a string of saliva a reminder.

ren went back to placing kisses on your neck, sometimes nipping at it if he felt a like a tease, grinning whenever you would release a small whine. your hands played with his hair, waiting until he fell asleep to execute your plan. a devious smile pulled onto your lips, hearing the breathes of the one you love.

you pulled away lightly, making sure you didn’t wake them up as you placed a pillow to be a substitute for you until you came back. this will be the only time you’ll resort back to your old ways, dressing in all back, grabbing a pair of latex gloves and a box cutter. as much as you wanted to do worse, this will have to do.

finding her wasn’t hard to do, she was walking around clearly under the influence, and you couldn’t help but snort at how stupid of a bimbo she was. you dragged her back to a secluded spot, keeping a hand over her mouth as you tossed her to the ground and went to stab the box cutter deep into the side of her neck.

you stayed in that position, maybe pushing it into her neck deeper for safety measures (when really you just wanted to get in more stabs). you pushed her to the side, putting the box cutter into your pocket and pulling the black mouth mask down, a judging look on your face.

disposing her body was easy, killing her was easy too— everything was easy actually. you didn’t need to do anything extreme to get rid of her. you quietly sneak back inside your home, stretching your limbs and taking the gloves off. you opted to throw the box cutter away but decided to keep it as a reminder that you had killed somebody again.

a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to something as a half scream half yelp was muffled when a hand came to your mouth. you thrusted around… until a familiar voice whispered into your ear, “now where were you, angel? did’ya really leave me to solve my own problem?” you knew what he meant by problem but that didn’t bother you when you remembered you were covered in blood.

“ren— let me go—“ their hold against you tightened, they took a piece of your ear into his mouth and nibbled on it, “so, how’d you kill her? stab her? strangled her? come on— you could’ve left her to me!” the way he said it sent a chilling shiver down your spine; what the hell did they mean?

he turned you around, wiping off some excess blood on your cheek with a lovesick smile. god, you looked so good like this. “what are you talking about?” you whispered, ren’s lips inches away from yours as their eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes.

“y’know what i’m talking about.”

your eyebrows were pulled into a frown, why isn’t he finding this weird? “you’re not disgusted by me?” ren let out a sigh, his next words being muffled by your lips, “i can never be disgusted by you.” you pulled away slightly, lips parted and pupils blown out, eyes flickering from their lips to their eyes nervously.

“but i killed someone…”

“and i enjoyed every minute of it.” the way ren said it made butterflies flutter in your chest, but yet you still felt disgusted by yourself. you promised you wouldn’t resort back to your old ways, yet you couldn’t help yourself. the way she decided to flirt with him in front of you, made you want to feel the same feeling you’d get whenever someone decided to get too cozy with something that was yours.

ren noticed the lack of words, bringing you into a comforting kiss, feeling you relax in their hold as you slowly kissed back. knowing the extremes you’d take for him, he couldn’t help but feel flattered that you’ll do that for him.

“come on, how ‘bout that treat i’m supposed to be getting?” ren shoved the black sweater off you, lips still interlocked as they placed their phone on the kitchen counter,

… as photos of you stalking and killing the women appeared on his phone.

[daisiesaredazy]

⛸️ Iceskating with You !

ᝰ REDACTED x FEM! reader .ᐟ✮⋆˙ (ft. the 14dwy cast)

SUMMARY ~ You decided to bring a certain hacker along for an impromptu group hangout at the ice skating rink, but he didn't exactly hit it off with half of your friends.

(REDACTED + (the others) belong to @14dayswithyou!)

[This story is written by ©daisiesaredazy, 2024 and in no way should be plagiarized or undergo any kind of use without my permission.]

(Throughout the fanfic, Ren’s true form/censored name, REDACTED, will be referred to as his nickname, Ren, because I prefer to use that as the placeholder for his real name lol)

(written in second person point of view)

❄️

༘⋆༄.°⋆ It was freezing outside, the frosty cold air biting on the tips of her ears. Yesterday, Y/N and her friends spontaneously decided to go ice skating over text. Of course, she couldn’t resist asking if her hacker boyfriend, Ren, could join, earning an annoyed text from Teo, complaining that they’d be too "lovey-dovey." Despite his protests, the group agreed.

“Ren, are you sure you’re not cold?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with concern as she glanced up at him. Her gaze softened when she noticed the pale snow drifting down onto his jet-black hair, dusting it like powdered sugar. He looked unaffected, a calm contrast to the winter chill.

Ren gave a small nod. “‘Told you I’d be fine, Angel. ‘Sides,” he added, pulling the hood of his jacket further over her head, shielding her face from the wind, “y’health ‘s more important.”

“But this is your jacket,” she argued, a hint of concern in her tone. “I’m already wearing one! You’ll get sick.”

Ren smirked, his snakebite piercings catching the light as his lips tugged upward. “Y’don’t have a hood. I’m more concerned ‘bout you, Angel. Y’might catch a cold.” His words mirrored hers playfully, and Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes but holding onto his arm, the tension easing as they walked together.

The two of them watched their friends, Jaehyun and Leon, who were causing a ruckus ahead of them. The pair were throwing snowballs at each other, their laughter filling the crisp air as they dodged and weaved in a mock battle. Elanor and Kiara were deep in conversation, planning their next sister vacation, while Violet had taken a mini pine tree with her, Teo—surprisingly—was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Teo?” Y/N murmured, furrowing her brows. She scanned the area, but the green-haired troublemaker was nowhere in sight.

Before she could voice her question again, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. “What, missed me, doll?” Teo appeared seemingly out of nowhere, walking casually behind them, his gaze fixed on the screen of his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. He seemed annoyed about something, probably yet another drama with one of the girls he had dated. His lips curved into a smirk at her concerned demeanor.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, the usual playful exasperation flooding her expression. She didn’t even need to look at Ren to feel the subtle shift in his posture. His grip on her arm tightened just a little—protective, but still gentle.

She immediately regretted asking about Teo’s whereabouts.

Ren’s voice was quiet but laced with irritation as he spoke, his eyes narrowing in Teo’s direction. “Nah, y’not worth missing.”

Y/N shot him a pointed look. The words hung in the air for a moment, but before she could even speak, Ren’s tone softened. He blinked at her with wide, innocent eyes, putting on his best puppy-dog expression and pouting as he mimicked his old Haruko persona.

Y/N groaned and rubbed her temples. “Ren, please don’t…”

Teo scoffed loudly from behind them, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If it isn’t buttercup trying to act all ‘cutesy’ again. Ugh, cringe.”

Y/N shot him an agitated look, and Teo leaned in, his smirk getting wider. “You’re just jealous ‘cause your angel definitely missed me.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed at the jab, his lips curling into a smug grin. “‘M jealous of how often y’forgotten the endless amounts of times y’been rejected by her. Maybe it’s t’save y’self from remembering how pathetic y’looked every single time.”

Teo’s brow twitched, clenching his fists. “At least I’m not a walking emo boy who looks like he time-traveled from 2010.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow and cut in to the heated argument with a comment. “Emos from 2010 were kinda hot, though…”

Ren’s eyes flicked to her, then back to Teo, and his grin grew. “Y’heard her.”

Teo scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes as if bored by the entire exchange. He shoved past Ren, his arm brushing against his in what was likely a calculated move. Without another word, he stalked off toward Jaehyun and Leon, the tension still thick in the air.

Ren’s hand didn’t leave Y/N’s arm, the warmth of his touch, a subtle reminder of his ever-present protectiveness.

Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head, caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Her friends were ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“So… y’like emos from 2010?” Ren asked, his voice an innocent hum of curiosity, though his lips curled with something far more mischievous.

“No.” Y/N snapped instantly, hiding her face in her hands, wishing for a hole to swallow her up.

“‘Kay, sure, definitely,” he replied sarcastically, a smug smile on his face. He had just uncovered her deepest secret.

Y/N groaned, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks. Great. Just great.

❄️

Upon arriving at the ice skating rink, the group was quick to rent their skates, eager to get started. Meanwhile, Ren had already made his way over to the counter and returned with two pairs of custom ice skates—one for himself, and one for Y/N. On the blade of his skates was engraved, “Always with You,” and on Y/N’s were little angel wings on both blades.

“Ren, seriously?” Y/N raised an eyebrow as she glanced down at the pristine skates in her hands. “You bought us ice skates?”

Ren, unfazed, simply shrugged with a small smirk. “Yeah. So that next time we go skating—just th’two of us, no idio—distractions, y’have y’own pair.” He then gently guided her toward a bench and knelt in front of her, starting to untie her shoes to put the skates on.

Y/N could tell from the way he said it that he wasn’t all that thrilled about spending the day with the rest of the group. “Mhm, sure. But at least try to act like you’re interested in them,” she requested, glancing over at the others who were already having fun and joking around.

Ren looked up at her, his soft gaze locking onto hers as he continued adjusting the laces. “Anything f’you,” he said, his tone quiet but filled with sincerity. The words, simple yet heartfelt, made her smile despite herself. He had that way of making her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered at that moment.

As he finished lacing her skates, Y/N stood, testing her balance. She wobbled a little, but before she could even reach for the bench to steady herself, Ren was already there, his arms encircling her waist in a steady grip. “Easy there,” he murmured, pulling her in close, her hands instinctively gripping his jacket as he led them to the ice skating rink.

“I’m fine, Ren,” she muttered, though she didn’t exactly mind the support—especially considering how unsteady she felt getting onto the ice. “Agh, nevermind! Hold me!” She cried for help, as Ren chuckled and assisted her immediately.

Just then, Elanor, Kiara, and Violet appeared. Kiara practically dragged her clumsy sister, Elanor, onto the ice, while Violet skated over in a burst of energy. Elanor exclaimed with an adorable smile, “Y/N, we need to take a picture! Come on, just one!”

Violet snapped her fingers, pulling out her phone, and wobbly attaching it onto a selfie stick. “Yeah, c’mon, it’ll be cute! Ren, you’re in this too, right?”

Ren looked at them through half-lidded eyes, his grip tightening slightly around Y/N as if to anchor her to him. “Mm, ‘m good right here,” he muttered, his voice a little too low to be convincing.

“Ren—” Y/N started to protest, but before she could finish, he was already tightening his arms around her, pressing her into him more securely.

“Just a sec,” he said, his voice muffled as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his face hidden in the soft fabric of her sweater. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent like it was the most important thing in the world to him.

"Ren, we’re taking a picture! You can’t be clinging to me like this," she exclaimed, trying (and failing) to squirm out of his embrace.

Ren smirked, pulling her even closer. “Like they say, take a picture, it’ll last longer. ‘Want this moment t’last forever,” he whispered, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Ren, you adult baby, get off.” Y/N groaned, but the warmth of his body, his steady heartbeat against hers, and the way he refused to let go made it hard for her to be truly mad.

Kiara raised an eyebrow, before smiling for picture. While Violet, was already clicking away 0.5 selfies with her selfie stick. “Well, I guess this is the picture then,” she said, her tone amused, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Elanor laughed, clearly not bothered by Ren’s possessiveness. “Hehe, it’s cute, honestly. Let loverboy have his moment in the backround.”

With that, Ren finally released his hold just slightly, pulling back enough for Y/N to catch her breath—though the sudden absence of his warmth made her feel oddly empty. As the picture was taken, he shot her a satisfied grin, his arms still loosely around her waist. “Y’not getting ‘way from me that easily, Angel.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at her lips. "I’m sure of it. You're impossible."

Ren just smiled. “‘N you’re adorable.”

“‘Ight, everyone! Group photo!” Leon exclaimed with a grin on the other side of the rink as Jae-Hyun handed his phone over to a moody green-haired man—who seemed very unamused.

As they all gathered together for a group picture on the ice, Y/N practically had to beg Ren to let go, which he reluctantly did.

“Y’sure, Angel? Don’t want y’to fall,” he questioned with concern, his blue eyes eyeing intently at her, challenging her.

“I’ll be fine! Just watch—” 

Her confidence was short lived when she felt his arms slowly slip away.

“‘Kay, suit y’self.”

“Wait—!”

“‘M letting go.” He warned.

He released his grip around her waist, and she nearly fell right onto the ice. Instantly, she clung back onto him, and he softly chuckled. Y/N gave him a light smack to the arm.

“Ren!! You can’t just do that! You—should’ve warned me earlier!”

He hummed softly as he clung onto her again. His eyes glimmered with mischief. “‘N I did, didn’t I? ‘Told you that I’d let go.”

“Yeah!—but—”

“Okay, took the photo,” Teo muttered in annoyance as Y/N raised a brow. The others skated over to him, curiously staring at the phone.

“…Dude, my eyes are closed!” Violet complained.

“Mine’s are too,” Elanor pouted.

“It’s okay, you look cute either way, Princess,” Teo flirted, pinching Elanor’s cheek as she hopelessly looked at him with love in her eyes. Oh, how Y/N wished she could slap that idiot for toying with Elanor’s feelings… but something about the way he looked at her… seemed genuine.

“He totally has the hots for you!” Kiara whispered. She smirked at her sister, nudging her slightly as Elanor blushed. ‘She was way too good for him,’ Y/n thought, letting out a soft sigh of annoyance.

Y/N stared at the picture, and saw a horrendous photo of herself—nearly about to fall, eyes wide open, mouth agape, and foot in the air. She glared at Teo as she pointed it out. “Why do I look like that?! You didn’t even tell us you were taking it!”

Teo scoffed. “Whatever. Not my problem you look like that.”

Ren yanked the phone from Teo, deleting the picture, and handed the phone back with narrowed eyes and a fake smile.

“Retake it.”

Begrudgingly, Teo retook the picture, but not without muttering negative words. Shortly after, Teo suddenly disappeared—probably because things weren’t going quite his way—Leon quickly went on a mini search mission. He found Teo off to the side, moping like a kid who hadn’t gotten his way at the candy store. Leon somehow managed to talk him back into staying with the group, which he hesitantly agreed.

Unfortunately, for Y/N, the struggle wasn’t over yet. She was still clinging to the metal handrail, trying (and struggling) to find her balance on the ice. Ren was close beside her, his warm presence offering both support and comfort as he held her other hand.

"Ugh, I used to do this all the time when I was a kid! I swear, I could even do twirls and stuff!" she groaned in frustration, her skates wobbling beneath her.

Ren chuckled softly, his voice dripping with teasing affection. "’M sure y’could, Angel. No doubt ‘bout it."

Y/N shot him a sideways glance, not quite convinced but grateful for his reassurance. Violet skated past them effortlessly, her mini pine tree—affectionately named “Jerry”—still tucked safely in her arms.

"Aw, don’t worry, bhe! You’ve got this! Just gotta practice the movements, and you'll be back to twirling in no time, just like Jerry over here!" Violet called over her shoulder with a bright smile, before skating away. 

Ren and Y/N exchanged a glance, both eyebrows raised in mild concern. Ren muttered under his breath, “Twirling? ‘S she good? That’s a tree.” Y/n chuckled nervously. trying to steady herself against the railing. “T—that’s Vi for you!” 

Ren squeezed her hand tighter, sensing she was on the verge of losing her balance once more. “Careful, remember what I told you? Y’gotta waddle like a baby penguin, cutie.” mentions the raven headed man as you let out a soft laugh at his silly reminder.

Y/N caught sight of Kiara and Elanor, who were in the midst of a chaotic sisterly bonding session. Kiara was trying her best to keep her sibling from falling, but with Elanor's uncoordinated, deer-like movements, the two of them seemed locked in an endless battle against gravity.

"No, Norie! One foot in front of the other! Stop being so stiff!" Kiara was practically pleading.

"I—I can't! This is too hard—Wah!" Elanor’s voice cut off as she slipped, flailing in every direction to steady herself unsuccessfully before she falls. But just as quickly, a familiar green-haired figure appeared, catching her effortlessly before she could hit the ground. It was Teo, his grin smug as ever.

Y/N couldn’t help but gasp at the scene. It was like something out of a drama, but when she realized it was Teo who had caught Elanor, her excitement quickly turned into mild discomfort. She cringed and turned away, focusing on the ice beneath her instead.

Ren noticed her shift in mood and raised an eyebrow. "What, ‘don’t think they’re suited f’each other?"

Reluctantly, Y/N shrugged, still watching Teo and Elanor as Kiara helped her sister regain her footing. "I dunno… it’s cute, but Teo—he’s always had this thing about messing around. I just don’t want him hurting El’s feelings."

Ren’s expression darkened for a brief moment, his gaze narrowing at Teo and Elanor before turning back to Y/N. He exhaled slowly, clearly uninterested in getting caught up in their drama. "Mhm. Got it…” before he mumbled under his breath inaudibly “‘don’t really care ‘bout them honestly."

He shifted his focus back to her. his tone softening. "Think y’got enough practice with the handrails now, Angel. Let’s see what y’can do without 'em." He extended his hand toward her, and Y/N hesitated for a moment before placing her shaking hand into his. The warmth of his grip was steadying, grounding her in a way that made her feel safer.

With a gentle tug, Ren led her forward, skating backwards to guide her along the ice. "Doin’ great, Angel. Keep going," he encouraged, his deep voice full of confidence that seemed to seep into her own determination.

Her nerves calmed a little as his praise fueled her resolve. Slowly but surely, she took one shaky step after another, feeling the ice beneath her as she gained more control. She was far from graceful, but with Ren’s guidance, she was starting to feel like she might actually make it.

"That's it,” Ren praised. A smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observed her movements. "y’doin’ awesome."

❄️

Laughter erupted from the group as everyone’s energy practically bounced off the ice. Y/n, after plenty of trial and error—and lots of practice with Ren—was finally getting the hang of skating. Her movements were becoming smoother, and the ice didn’t feel so treacherous anymore.

She skated over to Leon, grinning. “I can finally balance on the ice!”

“Congrats, darl'!” Leon exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with pride. “Knew you could do it! Never doubted ya!” He gave her a friendly pat on the back. But before she could even bask in the victory, Ren appeared, as expected, right behind her. He slid in with a shadow casted over his features, his hand finding her waist as he planted his head on top of hers, glaring over her shoulder at Leon.

“…Ren,” she said, trying to push him off gently, though her voice was tinged with frustration.

Ren uttered praises. “Y’already that independent? Huh, y’really are that amazing, Angel.”

She rolled her eyes, even as a fond smile tugged at her lips. “Okay, thanks—“

“Stay w’me, love.” His voice was soft, but there was an undeniable weight to his words. He kissed her lips, his arms tightened around her, and for a moment, Y/N felt the temptation to just give in.

But then, she reminded herself why she’d wanted a break in the first place. “Go talk to Jae-hyun and Teo. I’m just gonna catch up with Leon for a bit—”

“No.” Ren cut her off, his tone firm, almost stubborn. “I’m stayin’ w’you.”

Y/n huffed in exasperation, trying, but failing, to pry him off her. He was practically glued to her, like an accessory—scarf, hat, jacket, and all. No escape. He would find a way to be on her one way or another.

“Ren—!” She tried again, half-laughing in frustration.

“I only came here f’you,” he muttered into her hair, sounding almost desperate. “Nobody else matters. Don’ care ‘bout anyone else but you.”

“Ren.” Her tone was more pleading this time, but she could already tell he wasn’t going to budge. 

“Yes, Angel?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t know exactly what she was trying to do.

She gazed up at him, wanting to cup his face and kiss him, she went against the urge. He needed to learn how to socialize properly with others. “Go talk to them. At least try to.”

Ren looked at her, his expression softening slightly, though he didn’t seem convinced. Then his protective nature kicked in again, and his jealousness flared up. 

“‘Can’t do it, Angel. ‘M afraid I failed already.” His voice was low, almost defeated as he nuzzled into her hair, and she groaned in frustration.

Leon, standing nearby with crossed arms, finally spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of concern. “Aye, Ron, mate. If you wanna go talk to my buddies, I can come with—”

Ren immediately shot Leon a sharp glare, cutting him off before the offer could even finish. “No thanks.” 

Y/n glanced back and forth between the two men, a mix of amusement and exasperation on her face. Sighing, she gently nudged Ren toward Teo and Jae-hyun, who were laughing and joking on the other side of the rink.

“If you behave,” she whispered with a sly grin, “I’ll spend the entire next week with you—just the two of us.”

Ren’s eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, he hesitated. But then, as if the words were magic, he immediately skated off in the direction of Teo and Jae-hyun, leaving Y/N standing there triumphant.

“Ahah, got him.” She couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she observed Ren join the other two.

Leon raised an eyebrow as he observed the exchange. “Sunfish, is he always that clingy with you? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s kinda sweet, but it’s also kinda… concerning.”

The h/c girl shrugged casually, though there was a slight flush on her cheeks. “He’s just very protective. He’s always looking out for me, making sure I don’t get hurt or anything.”

Leon gave her a skeptical look but nodded slowly. “I mean, I get it! But… he’s like a shadow.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Like I said, he’s just looking out for me. But he’ll get used to them… eventually.” She glanced over at Ren again, who was now engaged in some sort of heated discussion with Teo. 

“Anyways,” Leon said, clearly trying to change the subject, “you still had to finish your discussion from last week, remember?”

She grinned. “Yep! I’ll tell you allll about it.”

The two of them skated leisurely around the rink, catching up like they always had. The conversation flowed easily, covering everything from family updates to recent events and hobbies. 

But just as they were beginning to settle into the rhythm of their chat, a loud voice cut through the air, followed by a familiar heated argument.

“Your hairline’s gonna start receding ‘cause of all that bleach you put in your hair before, buttercup.” Teo taunted, a smug grin on his face.

Ren’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice cold and venomous. “Oh, really? ‘Least I’m not out here lookin’ like I stuck my head in a paint bucket, tryin’ t’look hot but ended up lookin’ like a neon green highlighter.” He shot Teo a scathing look. “Y’should be more worried about how much product y’using—y’about one bad move ‘way from y’scalp filing a lawsuit. Product buildup ‘s not cute.”

Teo’s face flushed, and he opened his mouth to retort, but Jae-hyun quickly stepped in, hands raised in a peacekeeper’s gesture.

“Dudes! You need to stop! Say, let’s make a TakTik!” Jae-hyun suggested enthusiastically.

Y/n shook her head with a half-amused, half-exasperated smile. Ren really doesn’t hold back, does he? You were glad to see that he was being his true self now.

The duo immediately skated over to the arguing males, who proceeded to throw insults at each other, while Jae-hyun set up his phone on the iron handrail, filming a dance with the chaos unfolding in the background.

Leon and Y/n exchanged a look, then turned back to the chaotic scene before them, both sighing in unison.

❄️

After finally managing to pull the two males apart—amidst an impressive amount of bickering and a disoriented Jae-hyun, who had somehow ended up tangled in his own scarf—(nobody knows how), Y/N made a mental note to never, ever leave her hacker boyfriend alone with Teo ever again. 

As they exited the rink, Ren nuzzled her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist as he practically dragged her along the pavement. 

“‘Missed you s’much, Angel,” he mumbled, his voice thick with affection, clearly ignoring how clumsy she was trying to walk in her skates.

“Mhm, yeah. Tell me about it,” Y/n replied, her tone unamused but carrying a hint of annoyance. She was still adjusting to the sensation of her skates on solid ground, her legs feeling like jelly.

“Please, don’t do that next time. I’m begging you,” she continued, turning slightly to glance up at him, her voice softening. “I swear, if you say something even remotely morbid or rude to any of my friends again, I will not be happy.”

Ren immediately straightened up, his expression a mixture of guilt and earnestness. “Right, ‘m sorry, ‘won’t happen again, love.” He nodded, head lowered, completely giving in to her request. His voice softened, full of warmth. “I’ll do anything f’you, Angel.”

She sighed, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. The h/c female knew Ren was protective, but sometimes, his protectiveness veered a little too far into clingy. Not that she minded too much.

As they walked, her eyes caught sight of a few familiar faces near the entrance, standing outside with steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Violet, Kiara, and Elanor waved at her as they saw the pair approaching.

“Hey! Finally out of there?” Violet called with a grin, the warmth from her drink visible in the chilly air.

“Yeah, thank goodness,” Y/N let out a sigh of relief, flashing a tired but amused smile. “Ren and Teo nearly started World War III in there.”

Ren let out a sigh, though he shot Teo a pointed look from the distance. “‘Wasn’t startin’ anything. He started it.”

Kiara chuckled, handing Y/N and Ren a cup of hot chocolate. “Here. Maybe this will help calm you guys down.”

Thanks,” Y/N muttered gratefully, taking the warm cup. She glanced over at Ren, her lips curving into a soft smile. “So, what’s next? You planning on causing more trouble, or are we actually gonna enjoy the night now?”

Ren smirked, pulling her a little closer with his arm around her shoulders. “‘M fine as long as I get t’be with you, Angel. ‘S long as there’s no more hair drama and Teo, ‘m happy as can be.”

With a sigh, Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate, the warm, rich sweetness doing its job of relaxing her after the chaos of the evening. Ren’s arm felt solid around her, and she was grateful for the comfort, even if his clinginess could be a little overwhelming at times.

“You know,” she broke the silence, glancing up at him with a half-amused look, “sometimes I wonder if you’re more trouble than the rest of them combined.”

Ren raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing grin. “Only when y’not around, love.”

She only rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. She glanced back at the group, who had finally settled down. Jae-hyun was filming something ridiculous with Teo and Leon, their earlier arguments long forgotten in the wake of new shenanigans. 

Violet, Kiara, and Elanor stood nearby, each holding a hot chocolate, chatting and laughing. It felt like everything had come full circle—the chaos of earlier fading into a quiet, easy warmth. 

“Ready t’head home?" Ren asked, noticing the soft yawn that escaped Y/N’s lips.

"Yeah, I think it's about time! And honestly, I'm freezing," she admitted, shivering slightly.

Ren leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around her to pull her in. "’M gonna help keep you nice and toasty f’the next week. After all, y’promised that if I talked to those two… well, you'd spend the whole week w’me."

"Oh, right. I did say that, didn't I?"

Ren chuckled, but Y/N’s attention shifted to the side. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Elanor and Teo with their arms wrapped around each other. A soft smile tugged at her lips as her gaze met Ren’s, her eyes meeting his with a quiet understanding.

“…I think I’d like that.”

❄️

On the walk back to Y/N’s apartment, Ren held her hand, warming it up by blowing on it and kissing her knuckles. She let out a soft puff of laughter.

“Ren, what are you doing?”

“Nothin’. Just wanted t’kiss y’cute hands,” he teased.

Ren paused, before he smirked, a joking look on his handsome face. “‘Just got an intrusive thought n’ thought I’d share. Don’t y’think ice skates would make a good mvrder weapo—”

“No.”

⛸️ / the end! (if there’s any grammar errors let me know! thank you for reading<3)

[msriri030]

Daddy Ren X Mommy reader

“Are you sure, Ren?” you asked weakly, your voice rasping as you fought back a cough. You had recently caught a cold after yesterday’s sudden, unscheduled rainstorm. On your way home from daycare, you had shielded your two-year-old pup, Rumi, with your jacket, leaving yourself completely soaked. Now, with no cough syrup left in the house, your alpha, Ren, was preparing to brave the rain to pick some up.

Rumi, bundled up in layer upon layer of warm clothing, pouted adorably, her tiny body practically swallowed by the extra padding. She wriggled in protest, clearly displeased with the situation.

“I’m sure, Angel,” Ren said gently, adjusting the zipper on his thick jacket. “I’ll take Rumi with me so you can rest.”

You coughed again, your hand instinctively pulling your face mask into place. Meanwhile, Rumi nestled closer against your neck, letting out a soft whimper. You responded by gently nuzzling your chin against her black hair, trying to soothe her by scenting. She loved your scent of Honey covered peaches. 

Therefore, Rumi wasn’t the biggest fan of being away from you, a trait that either stemmed from her attachment to you—or, as you sometimes teased Ren, something she had inherited from her equally stubborn father.

Ren smiled at the two of you, a fond but resigned expression on his face. “Rumi, come to Daddy,” he crooned, holding out his arms expectantly.

But Rumi only pouted harder, burying her face into your shoulder as she glared at Ren with all the fierceness her tiny frame could muster. “No, I want Mommy,” she declared firmly.

Ren let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. When he tried to lift her from your arms, Rumi clung to your clothes with surprising strength for someone her size.

Ren sighed in mild frustration, though his smile didn’t waver. “You’re making this difficult, sweetheart,” he muttered under his breath.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene unfolding in front of you—the playful standoff between your determined husband and your equally determined daughter.

“Good luck,” you teased, your voice still hoarse from the cold.

Ren shot you a mock-offended look. “I don’t need luck,” he quipped, though his tone betrayed his doubts.

As the tug-of-war continued, you gently stroked Rumi’s back, murmuring softly, “Rumi, baby, you can go with Daddy. Mommy just needs to rest for a little while, and then I’ll be here waiting for you, okay?”

Rumi looked up at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips trembling slightly. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you said, holding out your pinky.

After a moment of hesitation, Rumi finally hooked her tiny pinky around yours, sealing the deal. “Okay,” she whispered reluctantly, her pout still intact.

Ren let out a breath of relief as he scooped her up into his arms. This time, she allowed it, though she continued to glance over his shoulder at you as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. Before, she rubbed against Ren scent glands, covering herself in a mixture of mahogany and rose. 

“You’re raising a stubborn one,” Ren teased, adjusting Rumi’s scarf to ensure she stayed snug. 

You gave him a tired smile. “I wonder where she gets it from,” you retorted playfully.

Ren feigned a look of betrayal but quickly recovered, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “We’ll be back soon. Get some rest, Angel.”

As Ren grabbed his umbrella and stepped out into the rain, Rumi waved at you from over his shoulder, her tiny gloved hand flapping against his jacket. “Bye-bye, Mommy!”

“Bye, sweetheart,” you called back, your voice soft but warm. “Be good for Daddy.”

When the door clicked shut, the house fell into a serene quiet. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, sinking back onto the couch. Even as the chill of the rain lingered in the air, the thought of Ren and Rumi venturing out together to take care of you warmed your heart.

Meanwhile, Ren drove carefully through the rainy streets, the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the car roof filling the silence. Rumi, bundled in her layers of clothing, sat snugly in her car seat, her tiny hands pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her wide eyes tracked a sleek black motorcycle weaving through traffic ahead of them, her small brows knitting in concentration.

Ren noticed her gaze through the rearview mirror and glanced briefly at the motorcyclist before focusing back on the road. “What’s wrong, Rumi?” he asked, his voice calm and curious.

Rumi didn’t immediately turn to him, her focus still locked on the motorcycle speeding through the rain. Finally, she murmured, “It’s Mommy’s boyfriend,” her small voice almost lost amidst the sound of rain tapping against the car.

Ren’s calm demeanor faltered for the briefest second. His eyes twitched at the word boyfriend, though his face remained carefully composed, a pleasant mask for Rumi’s sake. However, his hands betrayed him, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly through his nose to calm the growing frustration bubbling in his chest.

“Oh?” Ren said, his voice light but forced. “Why do you say that, Rumi?”

Rumi hummed thoughtfully, flexing her feet in her little boots as if trying to remember something important. “Because he gives Mommy roses, when we stopped at a red light” she said innocently, looking up at Ren in the mirror with wide, honest eyes.

Ren’s jaw tightened slightly, but he forced a soft chuckle. “Roses, huh?”

“Mhm!” Rumi nodded, her little hands forming a heart shape as she added, “Also sometimes he makes hearts like this too. Mommy said you knew.”

Ren’s grip on the wheel tightened again, the humor in his laugh strained this time. “Mommy said I knew, huh?”

Rumi didn’t notice the edge in his voice, too preoccupied with looking back out the window at the motorcyclist, who had long disappeared from view. She wiggled her feet again and added, “And he likes to call Mommy pretty.”

Ren bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he silently reeled from his daughter’s innocent words. He knew better than to jump to conclusions—this was a misunderstanding, a child’s misinterpretation of something harmless. Still, the image of some mysterious motorcyclist giving you roses and calling you pretty churned his gut.

He took another deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “Rumi,” he began softly, turning his head slightly to glance back at her, “are you sure you didn’t just see a friend of Mommy’s?”

Rumi tilted her head, her tiny face scrunching in thought. “Maybe…” she said slowly, then shrugged. “But he gave Mommy lots of flowers!”

Ren’s lips twitched into a faint, strained smile. “Well, that’s nice of him,” he muttered under his breath, though his tone carried an edge he didn’t intend.

Rumi didn’t notice, already distracted by the raindrops racing down the window.

Ren sighed, running a hand through his hair when they stopped at a red light. He shook his head, silently reminding himself to talk to you about this once he got home. Misunderstanding or not, he wanted answers.

Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of you entertaining any so-called boyfriend. As if I’d let that happen, he thought.

“Rumi,” he said, breaking the silence as the light turned green, “how about we get Mommy some flowers too? What do you think?”

Rumi’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands together. “Yes! Pretty ones like the boyfriend gives her!”

Ren winced but laughed softly, his grip on the steering wheel loosening at her excitement. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he said. Let’s see how these ‘roses’ stack up against mine.

When they arrived at the supermarket, Ren parked the car and sighed, glancing at the gray, rain-soaked world outside. The rhythmic drumming of the rain on the roof continued as he reached back to unbuckle Rumi from her car seat. She wriggled in her layers of clothing, her tiny arms outstretched for him to lift her. 

Ren realized that by the time they got home, it would be close to dinner, and soup would be the perfect choice to warm everyone up.

“Alright, Rumi, let’s make this quick,” Ren muttered as he hoisted her into his arms. She snuggled into his jacket, her small hands gripping his collar for warmth and comfort. “We’ll grab what we need for soup, get Mommy’s medicine, and maybe some flowers to cheer her up. Sounds good?”

“Pretty flowers!” Rumi chimed, her eyes lighting up at the idea. Her excitement made Ren smile, despite the lingering irritation from her earlier “boyfriend” comment.

Inside the store, the bright fluorescent lights offered a stark contrast to the rainy gloom outside. Ren maneuvered the cart with one hand while Rumi sat snugly in the child seat, kicking her little feet and gazing around the store with curious wonder.

“What do we need for the soup, Rumi?” Ren asked as they strolled down the produce aisle.

“Um…” Rumi tilted her head in thought, her expression serious as she pondered. “Carrots! And… green stuff!”

Ren chuckled at her enthusiasm, plucking a bunch of fresh carrots from the display and tossing them into the cart. “Good call. The green stuff must be celery, right?” He grabbed a stalk of celery and added it to the growing collection.

“Onions too!” Rumi added, clapping her hands excitedly.

Ren raised a brow. “Since when do you like onions?”

“I don’t,” she admitted with a cheeky giggle. “But Mommy does!”

Ren laughed, shaking his head as he picked up a yellow onion and placed it in the cart. “Smart thinking, kiddo. You’re gonna be a pro chef someday.”

Rumi beamed at the praise, her little legs swinging happily as they made their way to the meat section. Ren grabbed a small pack of chicken thighs, knowing it was your favorite for soup.

As they passed the bakery, Rumi’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Cookies!” she squealed, pointing at a display of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

Ren sighed, already anticipating the request, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, fine. One pack for you and Mommy. Deal?”

“Deal!” Rumi said with a big grin, watching as he picked up a small box of cookies and placed it in the cart.

Finally, they reached the flower section near the front of the store. Ren scanned the selection, his eyes landing on a vibrant bouquet of red roses. He hesitated, then glanced down at Rumi.

“What do you think, Rumi? Should we get Mommy these?” he asked, holding up the bouquet.

Rumi tilted her head, studying the roses intently like a tiny flower critic. “Hmm… they’re nice,” she said thoughtfully, “but Mommy likes those flowers too.”

Ren raised a brow in surprise. “ huh?” He turned back to the display and spotted a bouquet of delicate red chrysanthemum, which Rumi pointed to. He picked them up, holding them out to her. “So these then?”

Rumi’s eyes sparkled as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! They are so pretty! Mommy will love them!”

Ren smiled, adding the red chrysanthemum to the cart. “Good job, Rumi. You’ve got a great memory.”

As they stepped back into the rain, Ren carefully adjusted Rumi’s hood, ensuring she was bundled up tight against the cold drizzle. With one arm securely around his little helper and the other balancing the bags of groceries, he made his way across the parking lot.

That was when he spotted the same sleek black motorcycle from earlier, now parked just a few spaces away. Its rider, likely the mysterious “boyfriend” Rumi had mentioned, was nowhere in sight, having already disappeared into the store.

Ren's lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk as his eyes lingered on the motorcycle. He didn’t slow his pace as he walked by, but when he was within reach, his foot subtly extended to the bike's stand. With a calculated nudge, he tipped it just enough to send it toppling to the wet pavement.

The crash of metal against asphalt was muffled by the rain, but it still echoed satisfyingly in Ren’s ears. He didn’t look back, his expression remaining calm and collected as he adjusted his grip on Rumi and continued toward the car.

“Daddy, what was that noise?” Rumi asked, her little head peeking out from her hood to glance behind them.

“Just the wind, sweetheart,” Ren replied smoothly, his tone light and unaffected. “Let’s get you warm and home to Mommy, okay?”

“Okay!” Rumi chirped, apparently satisfied with the answer as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Ren opened the car door, setting Rumi carefully in her car seat before stowing the groceries in the trunk. His movements were deliberate and unhurried, the satisfaction from his petty act still simmering beneath the surface.

As he settled into the driver’s seat and started the car, Ren glanced at Rumi through the rearview mirror. She was humming again, completely unaware of her father’s momentary lapse in composure.

Ren chuckled softly to himself, gripping the steering wheel as the windshield wipers swished rhythmically. “Mommy’s going to love the flowers,” he muttered under his breath, a faint smile playing on his lips. “And I’m sure she won’t mind if her ‘boyfriend’ has a little bad luck in the rain.”

With that, he pulled out of the parking lot, the faint sound of the fallen motorcycle’s alarm blending into the distance as they made their way home.

After you stepped out of the shower, warm steam followed you into the bedroom. You wrapped a soft towel around your damp hair and reached for a familiar shirt of Ren’s from the dresser. It was one of your favorite things to wear—oversized and soft from years of washing, carrying his comforting scent of mahogany and rose that always made you feel safe. Pairing it with a pair of shorts, you couldn’t help but smile as the fabric fell loosely over your frame, swallowing you in its warmth.

Ren’s shirts were a small indulgence you never felt guilty about, even if he teased you for "stealing his wardrobe." Truth be told, you knew he secretly loved seeing you in his clothes—it was written all over his smug yet fond expression every time.

With your hair still damp and loosely tucked behind your ears, you made your way to the couch, the cozy fabric of Ren’s shirt brushing lightly against your skin. You felt better after the shower, though the lingering effects of your cold left a faint flush on your cheeks, and you still felt a little drained.

Just as you wrapped yourself in the blanket and settled into the couch, the familiar sound of Ren’s car pulling into the driveway reached your ears. Moments later, the door opened, and you could hear Rumi’s excited chatter before Ren’s deep voice called out, “We’re home, Angel!”

Rumi was the first to burst into the living room, her little boots squeaking against the floor as she ran toward you with outstretched arms. “Mommy!” she squealed, her face lighting up like the sun.

You laughed softly, opening your arms to catch her as she practically leaped into your lap. “Hi, my little love,” you murmured, hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

Rumi nodded enthusiastically, her black hair slightly damp from the rain. “Uh-huh! We got soup stuff and flowers and cookies!” she announced, her voice filled with pride.

Ren appeared next, carrying the groceries and balancing a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His sharp features softened when his eyes landed on you, his gaze lingering on how effortlessly beautiful you looked in his shirt. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he walked over.

“Look at you,” Ren teased, setting the bags down on the counter. “Raiding my closet again, huh?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing Rumi’s hair back as she snuggled against you. “I’d hardly call it raiding when you never even notice they’re gone,” you shot back, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ren chuckled, shaking his head as he approached with the bouquet of vibrant red chrysanthemums in hand. “Fair enough. Here—these are for you,” he said, his tone softening as he extended the flowers toward you.

Your breath hitched slightly as you took the bouquet, the fresh scent of the blossoms filling your senses. “They’re beautiful, Ren,” you murmured, your fingers grazing his briefly as you accepted the flowers. “Thank you.”

Rumi perked up at your reaction, her little voice chiming in. “I picked them, Mommy!”

You smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You did such a good job, sweetie. They’re perfect.”

Ren leaned down, brushing his lips against your lips as he whispered, “Glad you like them.”

He straightened and gave you a pointed look, his smirk returning. “So... about this ‘boyfriend’ of yours,” he began, his voice laced with faux nonchalance, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You froze for a moment, blinking up at him in confusion. “Boyfriend?”

Rumi, oblivious to the subtle tension in Ren’s tone, piped up excitedly. “The motorcycle man! Daddy and I saw him again!”

Ren crossed his arms, tilting his head at you with a raised brow. “Care to explain?” he asked, trying his best to appear stern, but the corners of his mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a grin.

It took you a second to process his expression before laughter bubbled out of you. You clutched your stomach, unable to contain yourself as the realization struck you.

Ren’s attempt at amusement wavered, his brows furrowing as he watched you. His arms dropped to his sides, and a flicker of hurt crossed his face. “Why are you laughing?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with confusion. “Am I a joke to you, Angel?”

When you finally noticed the look of vulnerability in his eyes, you quickly reined in your laughter, a soft smile replacing it as you reached for his hand. “Oh, Ren,” you said, your voice warm with affection. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just... you forgot something important.”

Ren raised a brow, skepticism etched across his face. “And what exactly did I forget?”

You grinned, gently squeezing his hand as you teased, “You love to ride your bike, don’t you?”

His frown deepened as he tilted his head in confusion. “What does that have to do with—” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened slightly as the pieces began to click into place.

For a moment, Ren stood completely still, and then he let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair as realization dawned on him. “Wait…” he muttered, almost to himself. “You mean I’m the motorcyclist boyfriend?”

You nodded, biting back a smile as you watched his expression shift from confusion to something resembling disbelief.

Ren blinked, rubbing the back of his neck as he pieced it all together. “I bumped into you and Rumi on the way home that one time,” he said slowly, as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I thought I was being... cute when I made that heart with my hands.”

You snorted, covering your mouth to hide your laughter. “And don’t forget the time you gave me that rose. You wanted to surprise me, but it just so happened that we were both stopped at the same red light.”

Ren groaned again, his hand dragging down his face as a faint blush crept up his neck. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You couldn’t help but tease him. “So, what you’re saying is... you got jealous of yourself?”

Ren let out a long sigh, though his lips twitched with the beginnings of a sheepish grin. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled. “I really thought...” He trailed off, shaking his head as he looked at you, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement in his gaze. “You could’ve cleared this up earlier, you know.”

“And miss that cute jealous face of yours?” you replied, leaning forward to poke his chest playfully. “No way.”

Ren chuckled despite himself, pulling you into his arms. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You love it,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

From across the room, Rumi looked up from where she was playing with her toys, her big eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Mommy, Daddy,” she called, “are we talking about the boyfriend again?”

Ren groaned, burying his face in your shoulder while you burst into laughter once more.

“No, sweetheart,” you said, smiling at her. “Turns out Daddy is Mommy’s boyfriend.”

Rumi tilted her head in thought, then giggled. “Daddy’s so silly!”

Ren let out a defeated sigh, though the warmth in his smile betrayed his true feelings. “Alright, alright,” he said, straightening up. “I’ll take the teasing. But just so we’re clear, Angel...” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “I’m still your only boyfriend.”

“Of course,” you replied with a wink. “But you’ve got some stiff competition. That motorcyclist boyfriend of mine? He’s a real charmer.”

Ren rolled his eyes, but his laughter joined yours as he pulled you in for another kiss, his earlier jealousy melting away into fond affection.

[talkbycolor]

MC: please? For me?

[REDACTED]: don’t do that.

MC: do what?

[REDACTED]: you think if you say, “please, for me?” and give me that look, i’ll do whatever the fuck you wa-

MC: please, for me?

[REDACTED]: okay.

[digitalwavemedia]

My Yandere Boyfriend Is Differently Stalking Me! 14 days with you (Day 4)

[queenie-the-court-jester]

an unhealthy obsession

Online boyfriend x afab!reader

A/n: this was rushed, sorry y'all 😞🌺

tw: noncon, drugging, somnophilia, identity fraud, mentioned cheating, online relationship, kidnapping, mention of masturbation

💉you met Xavier exactly a year and a half ago. A friend Introduced you, with you both quickly hitting it off. He was so charismatic and friendly! He made you feel good inside. Becoming mutuals, you were chatting everyday. (After confirming he was a real person and who he said he was)

💊 but little did you know he was lying about everything. All the pictures he sent? Edited. His calls and voice recordings? Distorted to where you can't recognize it. He was highly insecure, thinking that if you knew who he really was you'd turn your nose in disgust

💉he wasn't actually Xavier. He was an ex boyfriend you used to have in highschool, freshman year. You knew most relationships at that age never lasted long, but you couldn't help and feel hurt when you walked in on him messing around with some girl. You forgot his name...

💊 he regretted what he did. He really did! But he knew you wouldn't give him another chance so easily. So he was left to pretend to be someone else, just to hear your laugh. See your face through pictures. He couldn't get you out of his head! His parents were never there for him, but you were. You were always there. Loving and coddling him. He'd be damned to let that go so easily

💉it took a while to get your friend to introduce him, and every bone in his body to not jump and squeal in joy when you both finally "met". But now that you've been dating for a while, you want to meet up.. that's not good. He can keep making excuses for so long until you get tired

💊 so he does anything to pacify you. Sending you money, gifts, flowers. All while stroking himself to hearing your excited rambles on call. How many times has he shamelessly masturbated to your voice? He couldn't count. You were just too sexy!

💉 his resolve lasted only 5 more months until he finally agreed to meet you. His heart beating with anxiety as he waited in the cafe. Wearing sunglasses, a facemask and a hoodie. Brushing it off as him being shy you sat next to him and quickly started talking. As if you weren't uneasy by his (lack of) appearance. God how he adored you.

💊 you went on multiple dates after that, trying to convince him to take off the mask and glasses but he was stubborn. 'Till he got a grand idea. Inviting you to his house was the biggest blessing for him, and the biggest nightmare for you. Setting up a fancy dinner in his living room, whipping up your favorite dish and drink. Crushing fertility and sleeping pills in the food

💉clueless you trusted him blindly, giving him a kiss on the cheek and smiling fondly at the romantic setting. He pulled out a chair for you to sit down, and pushed it back in once you did. Still wearing his glasses and face mask, but at this point you didn't mind it as much

💊 he watched you eat quietly, chit chatting as he could feel all the blood rush to his cock in anticipation of his dubious plan. You started to feel drowsy and apologized halfway to finishing your food, your cup empty as you went to the sofa and fell ontop of it. Barely conscious

💉he grinned, taking off his glasses and mask, picking you up easily and shakily Snaking a hand down to tug off your clothes. worming his tongue in-between your lips, Hungrily lapping at your saliva while plopping you onto the bed.

💊 he ripped off his shirt, grabbing a bottle of lube and shoving the tip into your hole. Squirting it inside as he teased your genitals. Pulling the bottle away, he quickly replaced it with his dick's tip. Shoving it in and letting out a satisfied groan, bottoming out inside your slippery insides.

💉 he wasted no time In pounding into you, holding your hips flushed against his as he was determined to breed your tight pussy. Bending down a bit to suckle on your breasts, biting and nibbling anywhere he could reach. He went all night, until he physically couldn't give you anymore of his sperm.

💊 flopping ontop of you, he kissed your unconscious form tenderly, caressing your tummy with a loving smile. When you'd wake up, you'd definitely remember your ex boyfriend, Damien.

"so pretty.. now you can't leave me, because soon We'll have a baby on the way~ you wouldn't mind living in the forest where no one can find you right? Hah, ofcourse you don't.."

[sleepymarimo]

୨୧. 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

: ̗̀➛ when was the last time this man got a good night's sleep? pairing: toji x fem!reader. fluff, fluff, fluff...

an: just needed to get this out before i do my hw lol. i picture this as like pre-relationship :P wc: ~600

toji recalls one of the moments he realized he was whipped.

after hopping from place to place, staying in shitty motels and abandoned train stations, he got his first true and proper rest with you.

he’s used to waking up to the sight of an empty bed, a dirty ceiling or, hell, even the open sky when things got really rough.

so when he opens his eyes, refreshed, one of his arms draped across your waist, the assassin is a bit dumbfounded. toji is quick to settle, blinking a couple of times until you come into focus.

“oh, you’re up.” you smile, leaning comfortably against the headboard. "welcome back, sleeping beauty."

why’re you awake? he thinks. usually he’s the one up and at ‘em, rising before the sun.

by the looks of it, you’ve been up for a while. the television was on, playing one of your favorite shows, the volume lowered. you have a mug in your hands, your eyes brighter than any sunrise he’s seen thus far.

he lifts his head and props himself up on one of his elbows, his hair a mess of black strands pointing in all sorts of directions. “yeah.” he yawns, running his fingers across his scalp before he grumbles. “i’m up, i’m up.”

fuck, is this what actual sleep felt like? he hadn’t felt this good in a while.

his eyes catch sight of your alarm clock and he has to rub the excess sleep out of them to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

“eight in the morning?” he sits up, his shoulder brushing against yours as he rests his weight on the headboard. that's a good three, maybe four hours later than he's used to.

you look at him like he has two heads, unable to keep from letting out a light laugh.

"it's not that late." you pause, keeping a tease from slipping past your teeth as your fingers come up to wipe some dried up drool from the scarred corner of his lip. "you were knocked out."

he clicks his tongue, gently swatting your hand away and finishing the job himself. since when did he drool? "yeah, yeah, i'm not a damn baby."

the bed creaks as he adjusts his position, crossing his legs at the ankle and stealing the mug of coffee in your other hand. his nose wrinkles at the sweetness, at that little splash of creamer you usually add.

"you could've fooled me." you retort, taking back your coffee. "plus, it's sunday, so just go back to sleep or something. i already got breakfast on the way."

toji doesn't know what's worse, the fact that you expect him to stay or the fact that, fuck, he wants to.

his response is just a grunt, a stubborn sound of acceptance. the bed is still warm, the company is good and he knows there's no where else he'd rather be.

he'll think about that later, or maybe he wont. for now, he won't deny himself an extra few minutes of rest while you continue to watch your shows.

he lays back down, blanket over his shoulders, and drapes his arm over your lap, head resting against your hip. "you got extra meat, right?" comes his gruff inquiry, more child than man.

"extra meat." you affirm, one hand bringing that sweet caffeine to your lips while the other laxly combs through his hair.

with that, he seems satisfied enough, finding it odd that his head is feeling so heavy. when he drifts off into sleep, his shoulders rising and falling at a steady pace, he dreams of a big breakfast and the promise of a lazy day with you.

[diodellet]

cw: sorry for writing more bedroom shenanigans, it will happen again. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. probably some scientific inaccuracies, except for the inertia bits, that i understand. established relationship things and some light swearing. it's all lighthearted 😇

who needs morning alarms when you're partners with naga!jamil?

the first thing to wake you up is the cold press of his scales against your skin. which is the beginning of the end, sad to say. being part-reptile, of course his instincts bring him to search for the closest heat source. as the warm-blooded one in the relationship, you will make do.

which leads to your current predicament - not the comforting feeling of sleeping in his arms, the upper body situation is all fine and dandy on this side, you like the fabric of his sweater, you (both) deeply crave this kind of skinship, it's all good up here! - his coils are twined around your legs, heavy enough to pin you in place, leaving you vulnerable to the cold of the room. as your eyes crack open, what greets you is the dim blue glow of dawn. of course.

in this world of magic, you'd think they'd have created a kind of blanket that doesn't become utterly useless after several hours of shifting in one's sleep. with your limited movement, you manage to free one arm.

"jamil." you shake his shoulder.

"hmm?"

"can you get up, please? i need to shut off the ac."

to your dismay, he makes a vague sound of protest, curls his arms more protectively around you.

"jamil." he can't seriously be going back to sleep.

"it's still early, and you're all nice and warm..." and wasn't that the twisted miracle of this situation? the fact that you woke up before his alarms?

his languidness has got to be a joke. you've seen him move quicker than a bullet. snakes can haul ass when the situation calls for it. you weigh your options, you could yell 'spider' and risk the consequences of a freshly-awoken-and-panicking jamil.

or you could just freeze. who needs legs? who needs to move? the way his fingers idly stroked against the flesh of your stomach was nice and comforting -

"bullshit, you're also freezing...!" he just liked to see you struggle, didn't he? you try kicking your legs in a last bid to free yourself only for his coils to shift and properly entrap you in their grip.

oh that was unfair, being comprised of mostly muscle and having quick reflexes even when half-asleep. damned naga anatomy.

you heave an exasperated sigh through your nose, not even bothering to hide your annoyance.

jamil's breath fans across the back of your neck. "didn't you want to spend more time together like this?" he asks, faux-dejection creeping into his voice.

the skin of your nape erupts in a flurry of goosebumps, definitely not from the cold. you feel like you're burning, and you're not sure if that's a good thing.

so you decide to roll off the bed and take him down with you.

tagging my fellow jamilnatics: @viperwhispered @twstgo @crystallizsch @jessamine-rose @just-a-little-silly

(if any yall wanna be tagged for future jamil writing, just lmk through the replies. i know in my bones he will strike again)

[agathariosbroomstick]

HER NOSE, OMFG.

[daisiesaredazy]

OPINIONS! <3

[taintandviolent]

Regular ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: You live in Gotham City and are a waitress at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Oz is a regular and you've developed quite the crush on him.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 6.4K | older man/younger woman, semi-established history, making out, cockwarming, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving, dirty talk, smut with a teensy bit of plot (but not really).

a/n: to the 99.9999% of my followers... I'm so sorry but I am begging you guys to hear me out about him!!!! I thoroughly expect this to flop, but I needed to write it for my own sanity. absolutely massive thank you to @redravenblogs for beta-reading! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Ah, Tuesday night. 

In Gotham City, every night is a good night for an Italian restaurant. Especially one that’s been in business since 1964 and acquired a hefty lot of aging locals that know the food is good, and a possibly even longer list of trendy, younger foodies that have heard that food is good because of the aging locals. 

There’s also the… criminal side of the patrons. Have a place with delicious food and wine, and Gotham’s elite underground is sure to follow. You’ve seen your fair share of men who look like they’re here to discuss a deal over a good meal, and a number of elected officials with them. You know better than to meddle, though. You just do your job, and hope for a good tip. Usually, you get one. 

Tonight, it’s raining. Heavily. Surprise, surprise. People flock in from the street as an escape from the deluge outside and the restaurant is filling up quickly. Your section is about three quarters of the way full, and you’re busy. You hear the door open again, followed by the momentary rush of the sound of tires on wet pavement outside. You straighten up, throwing your glance in the way of the entrance. 

There he is. A warm smile spreads across your face as you watch him amble in, shaking the rain from his leather coat. Though his appearances aren’t regular, his habits are. He always sits at the same table in your section, towards the back and next to the corner window. Once he figured out it was in an area you attended to, he never sat anywhere else. 

You only know him as Oz, the big sweetheart of a man who comes in and always orders the chicken parmigiana. Says it’s the best in town. After seeing him a few times, and sneakily taking note of his last name, you took it upon yourself to do a little digging and found out that he’s known for running with Falcone’s gang and that he’s also the owner of the elite Iceberg Lounge. You never bring those things up to him in fear of starting a conversation he doesn’t want to finish. It’s really none of your business, anyway. You give him a moment to settle into the booth, but once he does – you’re immediately headed that way. 

“There she is,” he starts with a smile, watching you as you make your way over to the table, pulling your order notebook from your apron pocket. “There’s my girl.” 

A blush hits your cheek – it does every time. From day one, he flirted with you, harmlessly and has continued it ever since. You’re used to patrons being a little flirtatious, but something about the way Oz does it makes your stomach tighten. 

“Buonasera, Oz…” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. In the year you’ve worked here, you’ve picked up a little Italian, but the appropriate greetings are mandated by management. “How you doin’?” 

“Better now.” 

You smile again and dip your chin to your chest shyly. He’s always so affectionate, so warm. For being a guy who meddles in Gotham’s seedy underbelly, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met.

“The usual?” 

He nods. “The usual, sweetheart. But gimme’ a side of fettuccine tonight, huh?” 

You scribble the order down, and snap your book shut. “You got it.”

“What time you off tonight, doll?” 

“Same as every night, Oz. In about an hour.”

“They keepin’ you late every night, huh?” 

“Yeah, but a girl’s gotta’ eat.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head and shifts in the booth before looking up at you. “I keep tellin’ ya, I could take care uh ya, baby.”

The running joke, but sometimes you wonder if he’s serious. He always tips you generously, alarmingly so, and it’s always put directly in your hand, as though he doesn’t want anyone else knowing that he takes care of your groceries for the week.

“And I keep sayin’ I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“Ahh–!” He jerks his head to the side, dismissing those words. 

You reach forward to touch his broad shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Let me put your order in, honey. I’ll be right back with your wine.” 

With that, you walk proudly off towards the back, swaying your hips. You can feel Oz’s eyes on you as you go and maybe the way you move is intentional, because you know he’s watching. So, what if it was? Can you really blame a girl for liking the attention?

As you round the corner to the kitchen, you clear your throat and call out to the cooks. Angelo is working tonight, and he’s one of the few guys who knows about your little affinity for Oz. As soon as you pin the ticket, Angelo spins the wheel around, looking at the order. He recognizes it, and gives you a knowing smile. 

“Oh, look who’s back, eh?” 

“Quiet,” you hush, looking back towards the table. You can’t see it from this angle, but you know he’s there, sitting, probably on his phone, or tapping his big knuckles on the wood of the table. 

He looks at the sheet again, noticing the addition, and raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend’s hungry tonight.” 

“Angelo, will you quit it? He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Sugar daddy then, eh?” 

You scoff, giving him the finger before reaching for one of the bottles of wine – Oz’s favorite.

You return to his table with a skip in your step. It’s been about a week since you’ve seen him, and you can’t help the giddiness in your gait. As you bump your plush hip into the corner of the table, Oz grins crookedly at you, his gold teeth glinting in the low lighting of the restaurant. You reach into your apron, pulling out a corkscrew. 

“So, whatcha’ been up to, Oz?” You say, as you twist the prong into the cork. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Ah, y’know… business as usual.”

He usually gives you an answer like that – something that doesn’t reveal too much about what he does. You wonder if he knows that you’ve looked into him. You suddenly furrow your brow at the cork – it’s being stubborn – and quickly situate the bottle between your legs, squeezing it tight between your thighs. This action isn’t lost on Oz, who watches you with a deeply interested grin, watching how your skirt rides up just slightly at the front, not enough to reveal anything aside from some of your creamy soft thigh flesh. Everything you do is done with such innocence, but there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to him, he thinks. After a moment of yanking, the cork finally gives way with a hollow POP and you grip the bottle, bringing it up to the table. You mutter a quiet apology and fill the glass, pulling the bottle back to wipe the edge on your apron.

“Well, it’s good to see you. Always is.” 

Someone calls your name from behind you, and it’s one of the other tables, looking for refills. You offer Oz an apologetic smile, and head in that direction. Sadly, you don’t return until his food is ready.  He’s extra present tonight; your eyes meet every time you look in his direction, giving him a timid smile and going about your tasks, but your heart flutters with an adoration for the older man. You’re attentive too, and go over to his table a million and a half times to ask how the food is, if he needs anything else. 

“Only you, doll.” 

You swat playfully at his shoulder, though the little quip has heat pooling in your core. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about him taking you over the table a handful of times; lustfully imagining what his hips would feel like rutting against your ass as he sunk himself inside of you. You constantly wondered what his cock looked like. He was a big man, and you assumed that rang true for all parts of him – but the hunger to find out was terrible.  

He’s one of the last ones to leave, lingering as long as he can before it’s considered rude. Tonight, something’s different about him, like something is on his mind, something he wants to say. Each time you’re at his table, he looks like he’s about to ask, but never does. Finally, as you return to clear his table, reaching for the empty plates on his table, he downs the rest of his wine and clears his throat. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says, pivoting slightly in the booth with some effort. “You uh, you busy after work?” 

“N-no.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You straighten up, holding the stacked plates with one flattened palm.

“Why don’t you come down to the Iceberg Lounge? Unwind a little.”

“Oh, Oz, I’m not much of a clubbing girl.” 

There’s a glimmer of disappointment in those dark eyes of his, but he sets his jaw, and gets to his feet. This puts him in your proximity, and you can feel the heat rolling off his large body. Your stomach aches to lean into him, press yourself into his gut, and lace your arms around his neck.

“Just think ‘bout it.” He reaches in his pocket. 

The tip he gives you tonight almost makes your knees give way. It feels thicker than usual in your left hand and when your fingers close around the bills, you swallow down the protests. You don’t dare count it, not in front of him or anyone else. You’ve stopped telling him no, or that he doesn’t have to, because it’s almost like it offends him. He always hushes you, and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You tuck it in the pocket of your apron, and swallow hard again. 

He smiles and steps around you. Your eyes are glued to the visual of him leaving, watching him through the windows as he limps down the sidewalk. God, you want him. It’s a lethal hunger, something that claws and rips at your insides. 

Once the restaurant is empty, you and the rest of the crew make quick work of cleaning up and closing up shop. It’s about forty-five minutes later when you’re slipping your arms into the sleeves of your black, wool overcoat and heading through the door. The rain hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s gotten worse. You heave a sigh. You’ve got a walk ahead of you, but it’s something you’re used to. 

“Doll!” 

You stop walking, poised just at the end of the sidewalk. You hoist your bag up on your shoulder and pull your jacket right around your neck, squinting into the rain. 

“Oz? That you?” You take a step in that direction, knowing full well it is. Your casual act is embarrassing to you, but you persist, pretending you’re surprised to see him getting out of his car. It’s a nice one, too… a Maserati. Was he… waiting for you?

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “You ain’t walkin’ home in this, are ya?”

“Just to the station,” You defend. 

“Nah. C’mon.” He limps around the front of his car, rain splattering against his leather coat. “Lemme’ give ya’ a ride.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Really. The rain is brutal and you’re cold, a chill settling into your bones. You hurry towards the plum-coloured car, your high heels clacking against the wet pavement as you do. Oz opens and holds the door for you, waiting patiently for you to make your way over. You get in the car gracefully, making sure not to flash him, though, you doubt he’d mind if you did. It’s warm inside, the heat is on, and the leather interior has absorbed some of that heat. You snuggle into the seat, watching in the rearview as Oz makes his way back around the car, and for a moment you’re surrounded by nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and the shlick of the wiper blades as they whisk the droplets off the windshield. The driver’s side door opens, and he tucks himself in. Droplets of rain decorate his shoulders, and he smears his hand over his hair. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” He asks, a familiarity in his voice. He’s used to driving people around, but he’d drive you around the whole city if you asked. 

“The complex on the corner of 7th and Onyx…” you say, almost sheepishly. Sure, it’s not the best part of town, but your little apartment is cozy, overlooking the city. You imagine he’s used to much nicer, and is probably silently judging the location. 

“Oz,” you start, looking at the girth of his fingers as they wrap around the steering wheel. Your mind starts to wander, but you quickly reign it in with a hard blink and an inhalation of breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, doll. Anything you want.” 

“Were you waiting for me to get off work?”

 “Gotta’ look out for my favorite girl, y’know?” 

It’s an indirect answer, but an answer all the same. You smile to yourself as he eases his foot into the gas pedal, the car moving forward. His right hand departs from the steering wheel to turn on the radio. Frank Sinatra’s crooning voice fills the inside, and for the rest of the drive, you’re silent, occasionally stealing looks at Oz as he drives. He handles the car beautifully, and you wonder if he handles a woman as well. 

Oz is sweet. You know this. Despite his constant heavy flirting at the restaurant, he’s sweet, charming and at times, awkward. Endearingly so. But you aren’t taking pity on him. Your interest in him is purely selfish, driven by your lust for older, dangerous men. You inhale a deep breath and turn your attention to the road. You’re close to home. A few minutes later, he pulls up next to your building and puts the car in park. 

You reposition yourself to face him, shifting your feet underneath you. He’s watching you, those smoldering, dark eyes following your every move. Carefully, you lean over the center console, enough to close in the distance between you two and press your lips against his warm, scarred cheek. His aftershave wafts into your nose, and you take a deep breath of it, remembering it. You think you hear his breath hitching. 

“That’s for the ride, Oz.” 

“Shit, I oughta’ drive you ‘round more often if that’s what it gets me, huh?” 

You hesitate a moment, looking into his eyes. There’s that look again –  like he wants to ask something. You fill the void with another question. 

“Is our chicken parm really the best, or do you just come for me?” 

Oz’s thick brows flick up on his forehead and he lets out a throaty chuckle. “Sweetheart...” 

“Do you come for me?” 

Now he’s really looking at you, squinting at you. Hearing that question repeated has him twitching in his goddamn slacks. He looks out to the rain, then back to you and you’re still staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“If you only fuckin’ knew,” he chokes out.

“Well.. what if I wanna’ know?” 

“Doll,” he grins and laughs, almost nervously. It’s loveable and you can’t help but smile, your gaze fixated on his scarred mouth as he speaks. You aren’t staring negatively, quite the contrary. Like everything else unusual about him, you find his scars sexy. 

“You don’t gotta’... y’know, do that.”

You smile again, letting your lids close slightly. He thinks you’re doing this because you’re what? Paying him back for all the tips? Treating him like a charity case? Hysterical. If he only knew.

“Answer my question, Oz. What if I wanna’ know?”

He shifts in his seat. Uncomfortable? You can’t tell. 

“Then uh… I ain’t gonna’ deny you that. Find out.”

You lean back over, and instead of kissing his cheek, you tilt your head and go for his mouth, your soft, plush lips pressing against his. He doesn’t respond… not right away, at least. He’s stunned, but also trying not to devour you like some goddamned hungry animal. Finally, his lips twitch to life, pressing back against yours. 

He ain’t used to this. But, fuck, it feels good. 

As his mouth opens, his large hand comes up to the side of your face, holding you where you’re at. The cool chill of the band of his ring is a stark contrast against the warmth of his digits. His fingertips graze the edge of your hairline, massaging gently. The taste of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating, the wine lingering on his breath mingles with his own personal notes. You let an open-mouthed moan fall from your throat, into his, and he reciprocates, moving his body slightly towards you. Your tongue slips along his bottom lip, pausing to nibble at it softly. He groans deep, his eyes rolling back in his head. You’re getting him stiff, worked up and all you’re fuckin’ doin’ is kissin’ him.   

This is getting heavy. You feel your own arousal burning between your legs, a fiery, throbbing heartbeat that gets more incessant the longer his tongue is in your mouth, tasting you. Oz is practically taking you in mouthfuls, and your hand crawls over the center console, just far enough that your fingernails scrape against the fabric of his slacks, over his thigh. A desperate attempt to get closer to him without just straddling him in his front seat. 

A deep rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning pulls you two from each other. You lurch away, panting, and look out through the front windshield. The rain comes down harder, and you can hardly make out the outlines of the buildings in front of you. 

“I should… probably go inside before this gets any worse.”

You aren’t sure if you’re talking about the rain or the mutual arousal. Maybe both. He clears his throat in response; he wants to tell you that you’re a cruel woman, leaving him like this, but with the taste of you still on his tongue, he ain’t about to push his luck and get greedy. He unlocks the doors from the panel on his left. You open the door and get out, dragging your bag with you. You lean back inside, looking at him with dreamy, half-lidded eyes. 

“I’ll see you, Oz. Thanks for the ride.” 

But not the kiss? You cringe at your words. There’s that look again – but this time, you know he wants to ask you if you’re coming down to the Lounge later. You know it, and you’ve already made up your mind. 

Instead, he shrugs with both of his shoulders. “Sure, sweetheart. Any time. I mean that.” 

With butterflies in your stomach, you exit the car, and shut the door, careful not to slam it. You hold your purse above your head as you run to the front door and you hear the roar of Oz’s engine as he speeds off. The second you’re inside, you kick off your heels at the door and hurry to the back of the apartment. You flip the lightswitch, illuminating the modest bedroom. You pull the dress from the back of your closet, half expecting a cloud of dust to come with it.  

Thank god it still fits. 

You catch a cab downtown, which is much less luxurious than your previous ride. It drops you off in front, and the line to get in stretches down the length of the building. You knew it was a popular place, but you hadn’t expected this. The rain, nor the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening, deters these patrons – whatever’s inside must really be something. You pull your dress down your thighs, and walk carefully up onto the sidewalk. Deciding to try your luck with the bouncers, you bypass the line, trying not to look at anyone to your right. If you stand in line, you won’t be inside for hours. 

Two men – identical twins – stand in front of the door.

“Can we help you?” One of them asks, sternly. You don’t take offense, they’re only doing their job. 

“Um…” You blurt out your name, adding, “Oz asked me to come.” 

One of the men speaks into a small mic attached to the lapel of his jacket, covering it with his hand. It’s only a moment before one of them opens the door and the music goes from muffled to booming, vibrating your bones. You mutter a quick thanks, and step inside, feeling like you’ve just cheated the system. The visual that meets you truly overwhelms you at first, and you hesitate. 

It’s a staggeringly massive venue, filled with undulating bodies. The building itself is industrial in nature, all steel and flashing red lights. The dance floor stretches as far as your eyes can see, a literal sea of human beings, all grinding against each other, feeling the music in their veins. You stand, stunned at the start of the crowd, unsure of where to go.

After a moment, you lift your gaze and your eyes meet for the hundredth time that night. Oz stands on the second floor, on almost a catwalk above the crowds. He looks like he did at the restaurant, save for the leather jacket which was replaced by a white suit jacket; he’s wearing the same purple shirt and black slacks. Your shoulders relax, knowing that whatever happens next will be something you remember for the rest of your life.

He doesn’t make it a secret of how he’s checking you out, a devilish sneer on his face. He’s only ever seen you in your waitress outfit, which let it be known, is sexy enough on its own, but this plunging number that gives him a peek at your cleavage, and hugs your hips in ways he could only dream of… He deepens his grin and jerks his head to the side, urging you up. You follow his gaze and clock the staircase to your left. You make a beeline for it, holding the chain of your purse in a fist and climb the steel staircase carefully, until you get to the platform that Oz is standing on. 

“Hi!” You shout over the pulsing music. You’re giddy, like a schoolgirl. It’s embarrassing, really. 

“I gotta’ be honest, doll, I didn’t think I’d see you.” he confesses, leaning into your ear. His voice is rough, but enticing. He pulls back, gauging your reaction. You stare at him for a moment, saying nothing, prolonging the moment and torturing him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes flick down to watch. Something he does a lot, you notice. 

“What?” you ask, leaning into him. “After what happened in the car?” 

When you pull back to look at him, there’s a bemused smile on your face. Confident. Cocky. Like there was an unspoken contest of who would mention it first and you won. He shrugs lightly, huffing out a laugh. You reach for his cheek, palming it softly. Oz keeps his composure, even though inside, he wants to lean into it and whimper like a dog. He’s glad he doesn’t though. 

“I’m the one who kissed you, remember? It’s not like you did anything to offend me, Oz.” you coo.

“I ‘spose not, huh?” 

You nod, slowly, coyly. 

“The chicken parm,” he says suddenly, shrugging with his hands. “It ain’t bad. But I guess you’ve figured out the real reason why I come there, huh?”  

You laugh brightly, looking over the railing at the throngs of people below you, neon red lights washing over them in time with the music. You smile softly, feeling special. It’s not every day that you get private access to an elite club in Gotham City and get to schmooze with the owner. 

“Come upstairs with me.” Feeling like your attention is drifting from him, Oz takes your hand, guiding you in the direction of yet another flight of stairs. Your eyes trail up the steps; they lead to a loft, glass windows on every side. 

You’re stone cold sober, so you can’t blame the alcohol, but the second you’re in his office, above the crowds, above it all, you’re on him like a bear on honey. Your hands smear over his chest, fingers grazing through the hair that peeks out from his open shirt. He smells like cigars and an expensive cologne that you take lungfuls of. 

“You're an eager girl, aren’t ya?” 

“Yeah, Oz… I am.” You reply breathlessly, kissing a path along his bottom lip and chin. 

“How long have you felt this way, huh?” 

You finally pull back, and lick your lips, watching him intently. You knew he was a talker from the restaurant, always chatting. But right now, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him. “Uhm…” Your chest heaves visibly, and Oz has to fight to keep his eyes on yours. “The first or second time you came into Bellini…” 

“Ah, c’moooon!” he says, incredulously. 

“No, I’m serious!” You laugh a little, moving your head to try and keep Oz’s gaze. He looks off behind you for a moment, and when he returns his attention to you, his expression is serious.

“Chicks like you don’t go after guys like me –”

You bristle and take his face in your hands. “Chicks like me? What do you know about chicks like me, Oz? You think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” 

He sidesteps that with another question. “What, you like older guys or somethin’?” 

“They’re better…” You say in between tiny kisses. “They know better. They’re more experienced. Guys my age…” You pause to run a finger along his lip. “They don’t know how to take care of women.”

Oz smiles. It’s a dirty, devious smile, and it sends a pulse to your core. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and he brings his hand up to the curve of your shoulder. “You want me to take care of ya, baby? Is that what you’re sayin’?” 

You nod. A little too enthusiastically, maybe. 

“It’s a busy club, sweetheart.” He says, almost nonchalantly, as though his slacks aren’t tenting in between both of you. 

But… he has a point. You hum quietly. 

“Later, then? Give me a tour of the club and – “ Your voice trails off because Oz looks like he’s just gotten an idea. He smirks, and his hand grips your hip, pulling you close to his gut. “What?” 

“How’s about you sit on it, huh?” 

Your head turns, gaze heavily resting on the room across the way. You assume it’s for the dancers of the club. Whatever it is – it’s right there. You glance at it nervously, and your expression reads strong, apparently, because Oz chuckles next to you, and brings his hand to your jaw, forcing it back in his direction. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay. They ain’t gonna’ know a thing.” 

His hand drops from your jaw to your waist, where his thumb swipes circles over your dress. His hand sweeps around to the back, where your skin is exposed, and begins stroking patterns over the skin, igniting tiny fires wherever he touches. You lean forward, pressing your mouth against his again, hungry for his taste again. After a few minutes, Oz pulls away, ending the foreplay. He turns and ambles to the leather sofa angled in front of the window and you follow, taking slow, careful steps. One foot in front of the other. 

Once he’s seated, you lift your dress just enough to grip the delicately stretchy lace of your panties on either side, and carefully pull them down the curve of your ass. Oz is watching, his brown eyes locked on the tantalizing visual in front of him. You discard them on the sofa cushion, not thinking about where they land. Oz watches though, and his large hand snakes out, fisting them and discreetly tucking them into the pocket of his slacks. If you asked, he would’ve told you that he didn’t want anyone fuckin’ seein’ ‘em. The reality was that his perversions were too loud, and he was going to take a token of this dream he was experiencing.  

Oz reaches down, unlatching his slacks, and pulling the zip down just enough to reach in and pull his aching cock free. As you lower yourself, he lines it up, watching intently. You whimper his name, feeling the cockhead nudge your entrance. 

“Easy, sweetheart, easy. That’s it, nice n’ slow.” He licks his lips. 

At first, you nestle yourself down onto his thick cock gradually. The fat, leaking head pops in first, sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitches in your throat, and instead of sliding yourself down his shaft slowly, with a huff, you slam your ass down hard. You’re sitting all the way down on Oz’s wide lap, stuffing the rest of him in. He’s thicker than he is long, but god, it’s everything you thought it would be. He vocalizes, surprised at your determination. You still, letting your walls accommodate the girth of the man beneath you. 

“Hoo, baby...” 

The tiniest little movements have him clenching his jaw, hissing through his teeth. And then… with his hand casually holding onto your hip, Oz starts to rut his hips up into you. It’s just enough to rock your body up and down and move his cock inside you. 

He grunts underneath you, his grasp tightening on the satin of your dress. He craves skin, and his hand slides into the space between your dress and your back. You can’t help but let out the tiniest of whimpers at the feeling of being so full – you don’t remember the last time you were stretched like that. Your dress pools, hanging heavy between your legs and concealing your leaking core. 

Abruptly, the collective sound of high heels approaches, and your eyes snap up to the glass windows. A group of girls crowds the room parallel, and the second one of them spots you two, they’re heading your way. Oz stops moving. 

“Alright… quiet, doll.” He slaps your hip a few times. It’s a warning, and one you immediately heed, straightening up, tucking your hips into a more natural sitting position. His cock twitches inside you, and you swallow back the noise that bubbles up your throat. 

“Ozzy,” the girls coo in unison. One of them has a martini in her hand and asks who you are. God, they’re all so beautiful, you think. Insecurity threatens, but the stretching between your legs calms it.

Leaning to the side to meet their gaze, he tells them your name, proudly – the bastard – and you wave, sheepishly, trying not to allude to the fact that Oz’s girthy cock is buried inside you. Maybe they know. Maybe he’s done this before. You swallow hard, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“We was just havin’ a meeting. She’s thinkin’ of workin’ here.” A bold faced lie, but it distracts the women from looking too hard at the scene in front of them. They all titter excitedly, delighted by the prospect of having another friend to play with.  

“Oz takes real good care of us,” one of them chimes in, earnestly. “You’d love it here.” 

You clench around his cock as hard as you can, your internal muscles squeezing him in a vice. You smile as naturally as you can at the girls as Oz continues speaking casually. The man’s poker face must be insane because he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t give away a single thing. 

“Alright, alright. Girls, what am I payin’ ya for, huh? Get down there.” 

In a flurry of nods and apologies, the women disperse, heading back down to the throbbing club below them. The sound of their high heels clicking down the stairs fades away, replaced by the dull, muffled thrumming of the music below. As soon as you two are alone again, Oz bucks his hips up into you hard, almost painfully, pulling a low groan from your throat.

“Tell me how good that feels, sweetheart. Tell me.” The roughness of his voice, the harshness of his accent makes everything sound intense, but the desperation in which he asks that isn’t lost on you. He’s practically begging you to tell him, revealing a deep-rooted hunger for praise. You wet your throat, and lean your head back onto his shoulder, bringing your hand up around to the back of his wide neck; the flesh is warm and damp with sweat.

“It feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah…” You close your eyes, wincing slightly at the way his cock bullies you and stretches you open. “So good, Oz. I’ve thought about this… so many times.”

His hips rut up into you, finding a hungry, incessant rhythm and your slick walls clench around him. The action brings a choking grunt from his mouth, and your ego swells with the control. An idea blossoms. You straighten up; setting your hips and grinding them back and forth on his lap. Beneath you, Oz moans, his grip on you tightening. You feel his large body shudder, and a cocky smile curls its way around your lips. 

“You like that, Oz? You like me fucking you like that?” 

He nods, breathlessly, reaching up to palm the sweat that drips into his brow. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, arching your body against his. 

“I l-like the way you’re fuckin’ me. It feels real fuckin’ good… ” He grumbles, pleased. “Feelin’ that tight pussy uh yours… like heaven, doll.” 

You whine at that, loving the way it sounds coming from his mouth. Your hips gyrate, continuing their ruthless pattern on his cock. His hand strays from your hip and juts between your legs, finding your cunt. His thick fingers slip between your folds, stroking you just enough to drive your orgasm closer to the edge. You whimper, tossing your head back. 

Oz’s gaze drops from your back to your ass, watching as the flesh swells when you push back against him. God damn. It’s a perfect fuckin’ view, and he sucks in a deep breath. Every muscle in his body tightens, even if he ain’t ready for that.  

“Aw, fuck–” he grunts, low. Deep in his stomach, his muscles clench, trying hard to stave off the oncoming orgasm. His eyes open, focusing on the ceiling, the sound of the music, anything except for the way you’re ridin’ him. It ain’t workin’, because he feels his whole body tense up. Fuck. 

His hand goes slack between your legs and you grit your teeth, bringing your brows together in a pained expression. The dual stimulation was nice, but the way his cock massages your walls, stretching them out and filling you in a way that has you gasping is enough to drive you mad. You’re thankful that the music is so loud beneath you, because your desperate mewls and whines are getting higher and higher in pitch. Oz mutters something, something filthy about filling you and you drive your hips back against him. And with that, he loses it. He thrusts his hips up into you a few times, with a frenzied sort of desperation. You feel the heat painting your insides, coating your walls in his ecstasy. Underneath you, Oz’s thrusts have turned languid and lazy. He’s silently justifying the too-quick orgasm with the fact that he had to; anyone could’ve walked in at any time. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s been like a slobbering dog for you for months. 

Chest heaving, your hips continue rutting back and forth, and Oz shifts underneath you, still panting heavily. It’s tender, but he doesn’t complain. His thrusts continue to slow and you desperately reach between your legs, tapping his hand back to life. “D-don’t stop Oz, please… don’t stop…” 

Behind you, Oz chuckles under his breath and straightens up, having sunk back into the sofa a little too far when he lost it. His thick index finger strokes your clit upwards, and a shiver rips through your body. The coil in your stomach winds tighter as you settle into the oncoming feeling. Still full of him, your slick walls shudder around his cock as the first wave hits. The coil snaps, your thighs clamp shut around his hand, and you look down, sighing loud as he continues flicking between your folds. One of your hands is situated on his thigh, and the other comes to grip his wrist, feeling the cuban link chain beneath your palm.

“That’s it, sweetheart… that’s it…” As you ride it out, bucking your hips against his groin, he coaxes you through your orgasm, both vocally and with the way he massages your clit, the pad of his index finger pressing into it. You can hear the pride in his voice, it’s absolutely dripping with it. “Atta’ girl. Feels fuckin’ good, don’t it?”

You try to speak, but nothing comes out. You furiously nod your head as your legs begin to tremble. He doesn’t stop, and your immediate reaction is to dig your nails into the flesh of his hand, silently begging. 

“You good, doll?” 

“Y-yeah. I’m… wow.” 

Oz removes his hand from between your legs, and strokes the side of your thigh, gently. Tenderly. For a moment, you stay like that, just enjoying all of the post-coital sensations. Eventually, you get to your feet, curious about how the patrons downstairs are faring. Speaking of dripping… You swallow hard, and press your thighs together. 

While still in front of Oz, you straighten yourself out, pulling your dress back down over your hips. Now, you’re suddenly aware of the throbbing beat beneath your feet and make your way over to the window. 

“How about that tour?” You ask, running a nail along the glass that overlooks the dancefloor below you. After a few moments, you feel Oz’s presence behind you, his stomach pressing into the curve of your back. 

“I thought you weren’t a clubbin’ girl…” he murmurs throatily, in between kisses to your neck. You tilt your head, allowing more space for him to smother. 

“Well,” you confess, honesty tinging your voice. “I’m not. But it’s not every day you get invited to the most elite nightclub in Gotham City.” You shrug. “Might as well.”

[talkbycolor]

the nun and the soldier

A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS

Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader

CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun

The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.

And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.

After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.

You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.

A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.

"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.

A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.

"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.

You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.

"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.

…

You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.

"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"

"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.

"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.

"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.

"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.

Yes, he was a rude man.

The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.

"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.

"Hey! That's enough of-…"

"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.

Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.

"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.

"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.

"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.

He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.

He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.

"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.

No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.

"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.

"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.

Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.

"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.

"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.

"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.

"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.

So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.

Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.

He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.

"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.

He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.

It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.

♡

[daisynik7]

Sanemi is usually cold, even borderline rude to the Kakushi, who usually just deal with it by ignoring it. Not you, though. You've heard the stories about his intimidating demeanor, listened to your fellow coworkers let out exasperated groans at being assigned to him for even the simplest tasks, all because they really don't want to be around him.

So when you're finally assigned to him, in charge of fixing a tear on his uniform, you already have your guard up, your hackles raised. You know you're supposed to be good, but if a whiff of bad behavior on his end arises, you can't promise to behave.

He's at his usual training grounds, mangled bamboo pieces littered all over the dirt. You approach him cautiously, his back turned toward you. Without warning, he strips his top off, tossing it aggressively behind him. It lands directly on your face, the fabric hot, heavily laced with his scent, which is surprisingly sweet. He doesn't greet you, nor does he even turn around to face you. "Fix it," is all he mutters, raising his sword to strike the remaining bamboo in front of him.

Feeling safe since his back is towards you, you roll your eyes at him. Then, on your way out, you grumble under your breath, "No please?"

The following week, you're assigned to him again, this time to clean up his mess at the training grounds. He's been at it for hours, the sun beating down on him, his exposed chest glistening with sweat. If he wasn't such an asshole, maybe you'd find him attractive. Hell, even with his shitty personality, it's hard to deny.

When you arrive, he faces you, his eyes narrowing into a glare. "Clean it up," he orders through gritted teeth. He stares at you for a second longer than needed, then turns around to walk away. You bend down to start picking up the pieces, mumbling, "You're welcome."

He stops in his tracks, as if something has captured his attention. You hold your breath, waiting for his next move. But he continues in his path until he's completely gone.

The third assignment is an odd one. You're called to his home late at night, asked to bring some healing supplies with you. Apparently, Sanemi injured himself while he was sharpening his blades in his room, an unusual occurrence for Hashira. Nevertheless, you show up, following him into his room, waiting for his instructions.

He sits at the edge of the bed, displaying his hand to you, a fresh cut across his palm. No words this time, just a grunt, his gaze avoiding yours.

You can't resist; you roll your eyes at him, sighing. And he catches you.

It happens quickly. A huge gust of wind, the ointment and gauze from your grasp drops to the floor, and you're pushed against his dresser, his body pressed to yours. The mask falls from your face, revealing your terrified expression, eyes shut, lips trembling. His breath is hot on your skin, incredibly close you can hear his heart beating rapidly.

It's silent for what feels like an eternity. You swallow hard, mustering the courage to open your eyes. His usual crazed expression is now one of yearning, pleading. Something between you captures your attention, and you soon realize that he's aroused. Really aroused.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low and trembling, like he's trying to restrain himself. "Please."

[killerelysia]

4 days with Ren!- Ren x G.N Reader

(Clickbait Titl-....!!!

Words:8000

Genre: Fluff

Summary: — you encounter Ren, a seemingly shy and awkward stranger who enters your bookstore. At first, his nervousness and fumbling words leave you uncertain about his intentions, but as the interaction progresses, you begin to notice subtle, yet familiar traits about him. His nervousness, his playful yet shy demeanor, and the blue eyes all hint at something deeper, but it isn’t until later that you realize the truth—

( Reader is a g.n!)

EXTRA: Let me know if I continue this! This is kind of a heart-felt shit so don't worry.

Reader can be a idiot at times, Since we don't know Ren's real name. His real name is taken as [REDACTED]

I'm sorry for the delay! I scarped this so many times, I really started to feel stressed about this..

"Eh? You... wanna marry me...?"

The memory was hazy, but vivid enough to make your heart flutter even now. It had happened when you were both just kids, playing together on the playground like any other day.

[REDACTED] had tugged at your hand with uncharacteristic urgency, his dark hair falling messily into his wide, nervous eyes. He told you he had something important to say.

Then, out of nowhere, he dropped to one knee before you. His small, trembling hands held up a ring—crafted clumsily from what looked like tin foil, the kind of thing only a child would painstakingly make. The other ring sat snugly on his own finger.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him. His earnest expression, the slight shake in his voice, the sincerity in his gesture—it was all too much. Your cheeks burned as you cupped them instinctively, trying to hide the blush spreading across your face.

He looked so nervous. So hopeful.

Your lips parted to say something—anything—but you froze.

You’d always liked him, hadn’t you? Even then, there had been something about [REDACTED] that made your chest tighten. You didn’t fully understand it back then, but now it was so clear.

Before you could gather your courage to respond, the moment shattered.

"Hey! What’re you doing to them?!"

Leon, ever the self-appointed protector, charged onto the scene. With one swift motion, he smacked the little ring out of [REDACTED]’s hand, sending it tumbling into the dirt.

The entire playground fell silent.

"Don't worry!" Leon declared loudly, puffing out his chest. "I'll protect you from weirdos like him!"

Your heart dropped as you saw the way [REDACTED] flinched. His hands hovered where the ring had been, his gaze darting to you for reassurance.

"But, Leon..." you started quietly, the protest barely leaving your lips.

It was too late. [REDACTED] scrambled to pick up the ruined ring, his shoulders shaking as he clutched it tightly. Tears streaked down his cheeks, but he didn’t say a word.

He turned and fled, his quiet sobs fading into the distance, you stood frozen, guilt twisting in your stomach. You wanted to chase after him, to tell him it was okay, that you didn’t care about Leon’s interruption or the rumors about his family. You didn’t care about anything except the fact that he had been brave enough to bare his heart to you.

But you didn’t. You let him walk away.

All you could do was watch his retreating figure and whisper softly to yourself, too late for him to hear:

"I would ve said yes..."

"But Leon!" you repeated, louder this time, frustration bubbling up as you watched [REDACTED] disappear.

"What?" Leon shot back, his arms crossed defiantly. "I just saved you! That guy’s weird, and you shouldn’t hang out with him!"

"You're so mean!" you snapped, stomping your foot. "He wasn't doing anything wrong! He just wanted to—" You stopped yourself, suddenly feeling too vulnerable to explain. "You're always ruining everything!"

Leon puffed up like an offended balloon. "I'm not ruining anything! I'm protecting you, dummy!"

"I don’t need protecting!" you shouted, tears pricking at your eyes. "You're just a big, mean bully!"

Leon’s cheeks flushed pink as he huffed and looked away, his pout making him look even more childish. "Fine, do whatever you want! But don’t blame me when that weirdo does something weird!"

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms in a perfect mirror of his stubborn stance. "I will do what I want! And stop calling him weird!"

"Whatever," he grumbled, kicking a pebble with his shoe. After a moment, his voice softened. "But I’m still gonna keep an eye on him, okay? Just in case."

You hesitated, then nodded, your earlier anger fading into relief. "Fine. As long as you’re not mean about it."

Leon gave a reluctant shrug, muttering something under his breath about “always having to be the grown-up.”

It wasn’t until later that you realized how little it mattered. Days passed, then weeks, but [REDACTED] never came to see you again.

At first, you waited eagerly, sitting on the swings after school, hoping he’d show up like he always did. But he didn’t. You told yourself he was just busy, that he’d come by soon.

But he didn’t.

Maybe he was avoiding you. Or maybe it was his family. The whispers about them had only gotten worse. You’d overheard adults saying things they thought kids couldn’t understand. Things that made your chest ache and your fists clench.

You waited until the hope in your heart shrank into something fragile and brittle. Until you couldn’t hold it anymore, and one day, you cried. You cried because you missed him. Because you couldn’t fix whatever had gone wrong. Because you never got to tell him how much he meant to you.

And [REDACTED]—he was out there somewhere. Maybe he wanted to come back. Maybe he didn’t. You didn’t know.

All you knew was that the boy with the messy black hair and the trembling hands had slipped away from your life.

And even though you were just a kid, you felt like you’d lost something you might never get back.

You remembered again..Didn't you?

Stifling a groan with the rim of your coffee cup, you fumbled for the remote wedged between the couch cushions and turned off the TV.

There was no way you were letting some grim headline ruin the start of your morning—especially not today. Today marked your first day back at work since earning that hard-fought promotion.

Sure, working at a library, organizing and sorting through shelves of books, wasn’t exactly the dream job you’d envisioned growing up. It wasn’t even close to the top of your list when you decided to move back.

But the pay was good, your coworkers were warm and welcoming, and the library’s location couldn’t have been more convenient—just a short walk from your apartment.

And on the way, there was this cozy little bakery that served the best shortcakes and croissants you’d ever tasted.

You sipped your coffee with a soft smile, thinking briefly about how much [REDACTED] would’ve loved that bakery.

It was a fleeting thought, but one that lingered, curling in the back of your mind like the steam from your mug.

Why was it still so easy to think about him?

Even now, after all this time, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unfinished business. Regret? Guilt? Maybe a little of both. You’d wanted to give him a chance back then. You really did. But life had gotten in the way. Or maybe it wasn’t life.

Maybe it was you.

You swallowed hard, setting the cup down on the table with a soft clink. Maybe you were the problem. Maybe he’d moved on, forgotten all about the mess you’d left behind.

And yet, the thought of him still made your chest ache. You wondered what he was doing now, where he was, if he still remembered you too.

Maybe… just maybe… you’d see him again.

It still beats living in the city, though. Honestly... you weren’t even sure why you left your hometown in the first place.

The fast-paced, hustle-and-bustle lifestyle of the city just wasn’t what you longed for when staring out your window on sleepless nights. The people there were always rude and indifferent, making you feel like a stranger in a crowd.

It was nothing like Corland Bay. There, everyone felt like a close-knit family, and the air smelled of salt and sea rather than car exhaust and pollution.

Sure, the local crime rate had been creeping up lately, and there weren’t as many exciting places to visit, but that didn’t bother you much. Your new job kept you busy, and you’d take a quiet evening alone at the beach over a night in a crowded, shady bar with people you barely considered friends. In fact—

bzzt bzzt!

Setting your mug on the table, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. A notification from Moth, your online friend, lit up the screen. Their username always brought a small smile to your face.

Tapping the screen, you opened the message to find an adorable sticker of some anime character giving a thumbs up, accompanied by a short, cheerful note:

"Good luck today!"

Moth had always been adamant about showing their endless support for you. Even after five years of friendship—filled with cursed memes, late-night video calls, and discussions about the most random topics—they never failed to brighten your day.

And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were truly grateful to have someone like Moth in your life.

Pulling up the keyboard, you began to type a response to their message.

...How will you respond?

It really was considerate of them to send this message—especially given the contrasting time zones—so you decided to send back a quick:

"Thank you! :)"

Moth "btwww! did u see the latest AoG ep?? i heard Haruko got an outfit change!!!!"

Moth "spoil it for me. did he really change his hairstyle as well?"

Moth "or was it really just his sorceror outfit?"

Attack on Giants—or "AoG," as Moth liked to call it—was a popular anime series you and they had recently become obsessed with. Haruko, one of the main characters, was a sorcerer known for his shy and airheaded demeanor. Lately, his hairstyle had sparked debate in the fandom, and Moth was clearly eager to discuss it.

Now that you thought about it… what hairstyle did Haruko have in the latest episode?

Moth "cuz it's like... almost 9:30 where you are rn"

Moth "right???? or am i just dumb and got the time zones mixed up again lol"

Glancing at the time displayed on your phone, your eyes widened in alarm. It was 9:30—nearly time for work. Letting out a string of curses, you leapt to your feet, nearly knocking over your coffee in the process.

Cursing under your breath, you toss your phone onto the couch and rush to your bedroom. Work wasn’t going to wait for you, and you’d already pushed your luck with timing this week. But as you throw open your closet, your fingers linger over your usual outfits. Today didn’t feel like a typical day—why not switch it up a bit?

Your eyes dart to the newer pieces you’d been collecting lately, leaning heavily into an emo-gothic vibe. You’ve been obsessing over the style lately, and while it wasn’t your usual go-to, the mix of dark tones and edgy accents had been calling your name.

It wasn’t like anyone at work would say much—libraries weren’t exactly fashion runways, after all. And besides… the idea of blending the “softie” energy you adored with a bad-boy edge gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

Pulling together your outfit, you settle on:

A loose, oversized black sweater with slightly distressed hems, layered over a plain dark-gray shirt for texture.

Slim-fit black pants with subtle zipper and chain details that didn’t scream “rebellion” but hinted at it.

Chunky platform sneakers that added just enough height to feel bold without overdoing it.

To tie it all together, you add a choker with a small pendant and a pair of simple silver rings.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the choker slightly and ruffling your hair for a casual, messy look. Softie lover with a bad-boy phase? Yeah, that checked out. With a small laugh, you grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and head for the door.

You lock up and start walking to work, you feel a small thrill of confidence creeping in. The outfit wasn’t just a look—it was a mood. And today, you were determined to make it through with your head held high.

“Seriously... When will that lazy bum of a landlord do something about this?” you mutter, fiddling with the stubborn lock on your apartment door.

You wiggle the key again, sighing in frustration. “I swear I’ve complained about this at least four times this month…”

“Hey there! Looking good!”

You turn to see Violet, your ever-cheerful neighbor, practically glowing as she juggles her apartment key in one hand and balances yet another potted plant on her hip with the other.

Resting on her hip was, indeed, another plant. You can’t help but wonder where on earth she was going to put it this time. Her balcony was already a mini rainforest, brimming with lush greenery and various flora. At this point, you’re almost convinced she’s converted her whole apartment into a greenhouse.

Not that you’re complaining—her plants do a fantastic job of masking the occasional smell of smoke or burnt food that wafts out when you attempt to cook. The floral, earthy aroma is a blessing in disguise.

“Love the shoes, by the way! The color reeeeally compliments your aura this morning,” Violet gushes, beaming at you.

A small laugh escapes you as you glance down at your platform sneakers. “Thanks, Violet.”

“You’ll have to let me peek inside your closet someday,” she says, winking. “I’ve been looking for some new inspiration lately. Especially with winter right around the corner… Ahh, I’m getting excited just thinking about it!”

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and you find yourself smiling despite your earlier frustration with the lock.

“Oh! But back to you!” Violet’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, her growing smile as bright as ever.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too!” Violet chirps, her smile never faltering. “I’d usually still be at the flower shop at this time, so it’s nice to finally be able to catch up with you like this—especially when our schedules align!”

She adjusts the potted plant on her hip before adding, “Speaking of! You should stop by my place the next time you’re free. I’d love to introduce you to this little guy’s family.”

You glance at the plant she’s holding, raising an eyebrow at the thought of meeting its “family.” Before you can say anything, Violet’s eyes light up, and she leans closer.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but... When were you going to tell me that you were seeing someone?”

You blink, thrown off by the sudden topic change. “What?”

“C’mon! Don’t act like you didn’t just have a guy over last night. I saw him leaving when I took Cathy out for a walk.”

For a moment, your brain stalls. The fact that Violet takes her plants—her named plants—out for nighttime strolls is peculiar enough, but the idea of someone leaving your apartment completely derails your thoughts.

You shoot Violet a concerned look, and she immediately picks up on it.

“You... don’t remember? Don’t tell me you were drunk or something!”

She lets out a huff, abandoning her attempt to unlock her own stubborn door. Setting the plant down carefully, she saunters over to you, her expression a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“Tall guy? Wearing a dark slasher hoodie? Probably into either alt fashion or bondage with the crazy amount of belts and loops wrapped around his leg?”

Violet tilts her head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Oh, and he had dark black hair. Pretty striking, honestly.”

Her words make your stomach lurch. A memory flashes through your mind—soft laughter, small hands grasping a silver ring, and a promise made in the naivety of childhood. Could it be… him? The boy who disappeared from your life so long ago?

Without thinking, you stammer, “I-It’s my boyfriend!” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and your voice cracks just enough to make you cringe inwardly.

Violet blinks, surprised, then smirks knowingly. “Ohhh, really? Your boyfriend, huh? Well, now I definitely need to meet him. You should introduce him sometime.”

You nod frantically, hoping to change the subject. “Y-Yeah, sure, I’ll… I’ll do that.”

She beams, her curiosity seemingly satisfied for now. “Great! Well, I’m off to raid some dungeons in that MMO I told you about. Gotta carry my team, as usual.”

With a giggle, she scoops up her potted plant and waves as she heads back to her apartment. “Later, go with your mystery-dater!”

You wave weakly, watching her retreat. As soon as she’s out of sight, you scratch your head in frustration. “What the hell was that?” you mutter under your breath.

Not all dark-haired guys could possibly be him. What were you even thinking? That kid—the one who gave you that ring, who promised you the world in the way only children could—was nothing more than a distant memory. You haven’t seen him in years. Childhood romance? Seriously? You shake your head, letting out a huff.

Still, the thought lingers longer than it should, tugging at the edges of your mind as you lock your door and finally head off to work.

You shake your head again, groaning as the realization sets in. "God, I’m such an idiot!" You can't help but say it aloud, even if you're just talking to yourself. The more you think about it, the dumber it seems.

Why did you even react like that? Just because some guy with dark hair left your apartment, it doesn’t mean it was him. It’s probably just some random guy. You never even saw his face, so why did you feel the need to defend him like that? Just a few words from Violet, and suddenly you’re out here saying it’s your boyfriend. Your boyfriend? Really?

It didn’t help that you got flustered, making the situation even weirder. Your head feels heavy, and you want to slam your palm against your forehead in frustration. You’re staring at the door as though it’s the culprit here, like the very existence of it will somehow make everything less awkward. But deep down, you know that’s not the case.

This is dumb. You’ve known him for how long? The answer is years—and all you’ve got to show for it is a bunch of fragmented memories and a ring that’s gathering dust somewhere. You didn’t even know if that kid—no, that person—is still out there, or if he’s even remotely the same. Yet, here you are, thinking maybe you’ve let some weird twist of fate drop him back into your life in the most awkward way possible.

Exhaling sharply. The room feels suddenly smaller, your thoughts cluttered with questions that don’t have answers. What does this even mean?

"Seriously?" you mutter again, this time with a crying emoji look on your face, as if to signal just how messed up everything has become in the span of a few minutes. You stare at the wall, your mind reeling with the possibilities. Could it be that someone’s been in your house without you knowing?

The idea doesn’t sit well with you at all. You have a pretty strong feeling that you’d notice something off about your apartment. Yet, even as you mentally search for clues, everything seems… normal? You don’t remember anything being out of place, no missing items, no strange smells. Just the same old messy, cozy apartment where you usually keep to yourself.

But what if you missed something?

What if this guy—whoever he is—had been sneaking around your apartment when you weren’t looking? What if he’d been here for more than just that one night, slipping in and out like some shadow, while you thought nothing was amiss? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, your heart racing at the very possibility.

It makes sense, doesn’t it? People break into places all the time, right? Or maybe he didn’t break in—what if he just slipped in? You remember how relaxed you’ve been, how easily you let your guard down after getting used to living alone. You’ve never been paranoid or particularly cautious. Maybe that’s the issue. Maybe you’ve been too comfortable.

The more you think about it, the worse it gets. You try to shake off the thoughts, but they persist, like dark clouds following you no matter where you go. You can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong, even if you can’t quite put your finger on it.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there when your phone buzzes again, but it startles you enough to snap you out of your spiraling thoughts. You grab it instinctively, desperate for something to take your mind off the wild ideas plaguing you.

The message is from Violet, which only makes you feel more like an idiot. Seriously? Why is she messaging you now?

Violet

"Heyyy! I almost forgot to mention something! I was just thinking… If you’re not busy later, I could swing by and help you with that lock issue. I can’t stand when things like that get in the way, and you’ve been dealing with it for a while, huh?"

You stare at the message, considering it for a second. Help with the lock? You could definitely use some help. You haven’t been able to get it to work properly for ages, and it’s becoming a hassle. But now, you’re not even sure if you want anyone over. Not after what Violet said.

The nagging thought creeps back. What if someone has already been in here? What if they’re waiting for me to slip up again?

You rub your face with your hand, fighting the urge to get paranoid. Stop it. You’re overthinking this, you try to tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. Violet’s just being nice. She doesn’t know anything. You’ve got nothing to hide, right?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, undecided on whether to reply. You don’t want to sound weird or like you’re flipping out. You’ve barely seen Violet more than a few times when your schedules happen to align. But you can’t deny that there’s something unsettling about this whole situation now.

Maybe you should talk to her. You should’ve just talked to her earlier, told her you’re fine. Instead, you defended someone you don’t even know, let your own stupid reaction make things weird, and now you’re overthinking everything. You let one stupid comment spiral out of control.

You take a deep breath and start typing.

You

"Thanks for the offer, but I’m okay for now. It’s just one of those things, y’know? Maybe next time though!"

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself. Maybe it’s better to leave it at that. Besides, you’ve got enough to handle with work and your apartment, and you’re not sure you’re ready to let someone into your life, especially with all the confusion swirling around.

For now, you’ll deal with it alone.

"Oh!"

She looks surprised for some reason before her expression softens into a warm smile. She tilts her head slightly, beckoning you closer with a subtle nod.

Elanor, one of your co-workers at Corland Bay Library, is one of the few people here who actually gets things done. She’s a bit scatterbrained—infamously so—but she more than makes up for it with her kind and doting attitude toward everyone.

Still, her nurturing personality can feel... overbearing at times, and you’ve learned to step away every now and then just to catch a breather.

“Sooooo?” she starts, her tone light and teasing. “How does it feel to no longer be the one in charge of stacking books all day long?”

Before you can respond, she adds, “Although… You’ll still have to work the front desk from time to time, unfortunately.”

You offer a polite smile, shrugging slightly, before making your way past her. Rounding the corner, you duck down and slide your bag under the desk. You start pulling out your belongings, preparing for the day ahead.

The familiar chime of the library's front door rings out, signaling that another patron has just entered. You glance toward Elanor briefly, figuring she’s got it all handled. She always does, even with her scatterbrained tendencies.

For now, you focus on getting your things organized, letting the quiet hum of the library settle your earlier frustrations. The bookshelves, the faint scent of paper and ink, the low murmur of distant conversations—this place has always been a refuge, even on your busiest days.

Still, there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind: the strange conversation with Violet..

Elanor

"Looks like he's back again."

Elanor chuckles softly, inclining her head toward the person she’s talking about.

"You know, that new guy. I don’t know when he started showing up here in the Bay, but he always comes in and rents the books you put on the display window."

Her voice takes on a teasing tone as she continues, "And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a little crush on you."

She pauses for dramatic effect, adding with a playful grin, "Because he was staring. A lot."

You snort, rolling your eyes as you push Elanor’s office chair so she’s facing the other way. Without another word, you turn your attention back to the papers in front of you, trying to shake off the heat rising to your cheeks.

What is with everyone today? you think, frustrated. Smiling too much, gossiping, meddling in business that isn’t theirs—it’s like everyone is conspiring to test your patience.

And as if the morning hadn’t been chaotic enough, the thought of a potential intruder still lingers at the back of your mind. It’s a problem your deadbeat landlord probably won’t do anything about, no matter how many complaints you’ve filed.

You sigh heavily. Maybe I should just buy a stronger lock on my way home. Or even an alarm system. But then another thought strikes you: Would the stores even still be open by the time I get off work?

The realization only adds to your frustration, and you rub your temples, trying to will away the tension building in your head.

Elanor

"Would you look at that… Loverboy in aisle 8 needs some help, it seems."

She nods toward the flashing red light above the bookshelves, the signal for staff assistance.

With a sigh, you reluctantly rise from your chair. Of course, Elanor isn’t going to help him herself, and you already know she’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, thoroughly enjoying your predicament.

Refusing to glance back at her, you begrudgingly head toward aisle 8. You can practically feel the smug energy radiating from behind you as you weave through the shelves.

Turning the corner, you’re met with a broad figure standing with his back to you. He’s wearing what has to be the comfiest cardigan you’ve ever seen. The stranger hasn’t noticed you yet, so you awkwardly clear your throat and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"Ahem!"

The guy flinches at the sound, startled, before turning around.

"Ah-!"

When he finally faces you, you’re momentarily struck silent. His soft, doe-like eyes and towering height catch you off guard, and you’re left staring for a beat too long.

So this is the guy who always checks out my book recommendations? you wonder. He fits the cosy literature-lover vibe perfectly.

But it’s his pink hair that really throws you off—it immediately reminds you of Haruko, the anime character you’ve been obsessing over with Moth during your late-night video calls. Even the cut and style of his hair look eerily similar.

Is this a coincidence? Or is this hairstyle trending, and I’m just the last person to know?

You take another good look at him, craning your neck slightly to get past the sheer height difference. There’s something else, too—he looks like a near picture-perfect version of the male lead from Always With You, a webcomic you’ve been devouring lately.

Your thoughts spiral into comparisons, imagining this guy as the real-life version of the dreamy love interest from the story.

You’re so lost in your imagination that you don’t notice his sheepish movements until he scratches his jaw, seemingly trying to snap you out of it.

"Woah… You look…"

His quiet murmur barely registers in your distracted mind.

"But I thought you preferred softer clothing…? That’s why I…"

His voice trails off, leaving you blinking as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

Realizing how spaced out you must seem, he quickly clears his throat, his face tinged with cherry-pink embarrassment.

"Ahem! Um… S-Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you."

He shifts on his feet, glancing at the books around him as if searching for a lifeline.

"I was just looking for… Uhh…"

The sound of his voice pulls you back to the present, and you mentally shake yourself out of your daze. The words spilling from his lips tumble out softly, and you can’t help but notice how they match his gentle, uncertain demeanor.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of self-consciousness. What is wrong with me? Pull it together, Y/N!

Your gaze flickers up to his face again, drawn irresistibly to his big blue eyes. They’re impossibly soft, like a watercolor painting, but there’s something hauntingly familiar about them.

And then you see it.

A glint of silver catches your eye—a ring hanging from a delicate chain around his neck. Your breath catches in your throat. That ring. That simple, unassuming band… It couldn’t be, could it?

No, it’s not possible…

A ring. Dangling from a chain.

Your breath hitches.

No… It couldn’t be. But as your eyes dart between the ring and his face, the realization slams into you like a tidal wave.

Those eyes.

The boy.

The boy.

Your legs feel like they might give out as you stare at him, your heart racing faster with every passing second.

It’s him.

But it’s unmistakable. The memories come rushing back, flooding your mind like a tidal wave.

The boy.

The boy from your childhood.

The one who used to run with you through the sun-dappled park. The one who’d promised, with a shy, earnest smile, The one who gave you a ring just like that before vanishing from your life, leaving behind nothing but a bittersweet ache in your heart.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, wearing the very thing you thought you’d only ever see in your dreams.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythm chaotic and overwhelming. Those eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—stare back at you, still soft and warm, just as you remember.

He’s taller now, broader, more grown-up. But those eyes? Those haven’t changed. Not one bit.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. Your throat feels tight, your thoughts scrambled. You’re struck between disbelief and certainty.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Your chest tightens as your gaze drops to the ring again—the one on the chain around his neck. And then, lower, to his hand.

A second ring sits snugly on his finger, in the spot where a wedding band would be.

Your mind reels, the pieces clicking together, faster than you can process. Tears threaten to spill as your heart twists painfully in your chest. You’ve found him.

After all these years, you’ve finally found him.

But—what’s with the pink hair?!

You feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Not because you’re suddenly self-conscious about your messy hair or the way your cardigan doesn’t quite match your outfit. Not even because you spent the past five minutes spacing out like an awkward weirdo.

No, you feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

But you weren’t wrong about those eyes. Not then. Not now.

You blink rapidly, willing yourself to say something—anything—but all that comes out is a stammered:

"I—uh…"

He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together in mild concern. His voice, soft as ever, pulls you from your spiraling thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

Okay? How could you possibly explain that your world just flipped upside down because you’re standing face to face with the boy who disappeared from your life, only to return looking like he stepped straight out of a daydream?

You swallow hard, gripping the edges of the book cart in front of you for stability. Your gaze darts back to the ring for a moment, as if needing further confirmation that this isn’t just some cruel trick of the light.

But it’s there. Just like those eyes.

"It’s… nothing." Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost lost in the vast silence of the aisle.

He seems unconvinced but doesn’t press you further. Instead, he gives a small, uncertain smile, shifting awkwardly on his feet. The motion causes the ring to glint again, mocking you with its undeniable truth.

You were an idiot.

But not about this. Not about him.

His voice pulls you back to the present, and you hastily try to make sense of the words tumbling from his cherry-tinted lips. Watching him struggle to find the right words makes your heart flutter with sympathy, and you offer him a reassuring smile, nodding encouragingly.

At that, he takes a deep breath and tries again.

"...I need some help. I—I’m looking for a specific book, you see, but..."

Aaaaand there it is—the sleeve-tugging. The endearing awkwardness in the way he shifts nervously, almost as if he's in a scene straight out of one of those anime shows you and Moth were always obsessed with. You can't help but think, Moth is going to lose it when I tell them about this later.

The stranger in front of you inhales shakily once more before speaking again. This time, though, his voice is steadier, more confident, and there's a fire in his eye.

"...Do you have any books on native flora? The best I’ve found are on generic wildlife, but nothing on Corland Bay's plants."

Native flora? The first thought that crosses your mind is to introduce him to Violet—she’d love to help. But then you snap back to the present, chuckling softly to yourself as you step closer to him, scanning the shelf beside him.

He almost seems to flinch at your sudden proximity, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he leans just a little closer, his head tilting towards yours. You don’t notice it at first, but his breath hitches when your scent reaches him, and for a moment, the air between you feels heavier.

"No, you're definitely in the right aisle. Those kinds of books are just... more hidden, I guess."

You step past him this time, making your way over to the lower section of the shelves. Your fingers skim over the spines of the books absent-mindedly, until you find exactly what you’re looking for. You pull it out, giving the cover a once-over before holding it out to him.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

You barely notice how his gaze trails over your form as you adjust the book in your hands, your focus more on the misplaced cookbook on the shelf than the stranger behind you. You wonder if this book is really that interesting or if he's just that into nature. Either way, he takes a tentative step forward and reaches out, pulling the book from your grasp with his shaky fingers.

He flips through a few pages, his eyes darting quickly over the contents, before giving a satisfied nod.

"Y-Yes! This was exactly what I was looking for! Thank you..."

You smile, relieved that you were able to help.

"I'm glad."

Then, to your surprise, he suddenly adds with a soft laugh, "Haha, you're like an angel sent down from heaven or something. You're so helpful. Kind, too."

Your eyes widen, unable to fully process what he just said. The words hang in the air, a bit too sweet, a bit too much for your heart to handle right now.

"...What?" you stammer, not sure if you heard him correctly.

"W-What?"

He seems mortified, his face flushing as he stammers in embarrassment. "Oh! I—I didn’t—Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to! Ugh, that must've been so weird... I’m so sorry!"

The sight of him about to crumble into a ball of nerves makes your heart clench. You quickly raise your hands in a reassuring manner and give him a gentle smile.

"Hey, it’s fine! No need to freak out. I just... I wasn’t expecting someone to say that about me, is all."

He looks at you, still flustered, but with a relieved smile. "R-Really? Well, I think it's true for what it’s worth."

"Um... Thanks?"

You figure that's your cue to leave before things get even more awkward. You offer him one last friendly smile and glance subtly back toward the reception desk, hoping for some excuse to break away. But the eccentric man shows no signs of moving. Instead, he just stands there, staring down at you expectantly.

Did he want to continue the conversation? It seems unlikely since he hasn’t said anything—he just... watches you.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat for what feels like the millionth time today and gesture vaguely toward the reception desk behind you, hoping that’ll be enough to send him on his way.

You both just stand there, locked in an awkward silence, staring at each other. It's as if the world has slowed down, the only sounds being your heart thumping in your chest and the soft shuffle of his feet on the library floor.

"...Uh. Y-You shouldn't stare at me like that," you say, trying to break the tension, your voice coming out more softly than you intended. He looks at you like a good boy, all wide-eyed and unsure, making you feel even more self-conscious.

"Especially when it's with a stranger you don’t know," you add, puffing out a little sigh of frustration. God... You mutter under your breath, cursing yourself for even thinking about it. You never should've said that. Not when your almost childhood fiancé is standing right in front of you.

Nevermind, you tell yourself, swallowing your thoughts before they spill out any further.

He blinks at your words, clearly caught off guard, but instead of retreating, he straightens up slightly, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Actually... Now that I think about it, you haven't told me your name yet," he says, almost as if the realization had just dawned on him.

You sigh, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance at how easily he shifts back to normal.

"Oh! Haha, I guess you're right."

You’re overthinking like an idiot. Your mind is racing, completely trapped in the realization that this is him. How did you not see it sooner? Those eyes. Those damn blue eyes. You didn't even tell him anything about yourself, and yet here he is, standing right in front of you. Your heart nearly stops when he almost says his name as Redact—but you hold that damn smile like a minion, forcing your cheeks not to puff up in pure disbelief.

You can’t look away. You can't stop staring at him. Is this really happening? Is this just some twisted dream? There's no way—no way it could be him, right?

But then he speaks again, effortlessly breaking your spiral.

"Do what? Anyway! You can just call me Ren if you'd like," he says, giving you a soft, almost amused smile.

Ren? Wait, what? Is it really him? Was he even flirting with you just now? Your mind whirls even faster, trying to process everything all at once.

"Is it alright if I call you Y/n? Although... Angel does suit you just as well, haha," he adds, the tone of his voice making your heart race even more.

What. The. Hell. Just happened? Were you imagining things? Were you really just caught in some weird flirty moment with someone who looked like... him?

But then you gather enough courage to ask, your voice a bit more unsteady than usual.

"How did you know my name? I don't remember telling you."

Ren's smile only grows. "Silly, it's on your name tag."

He reaches forward with that graceful, fluid movement and gently flicks the name tag that you somehow forgot you were even wearing this morning.

"Oh," you mutter, realizing the awkwardness of it all.

For a second, you almost feel relieved. Maybe it wasn’t him after all—maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

But no. Those eyes. They never lie. You know exactly who you’re standing in front of. The boy. The blue eyes. You can’t deny it any longer.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Ren's voice cuts through the air, almost playful in its tone.

"Say, are you busy later? I'd love to thank you for helping me find this book."

Seriously, what is up with this guy? One minute, he's shy, barely able to string a sentence together, and the next, he's boldly asking to spend time with you. It’s almost like he’s testing the waters, trying out different sides of himself to see which one you respond to better.

You hesitate for a second before replying, still trying to process everything that’s been happening.

"Actually, I’ll be busy this afternoon," you say, trying to keep things casual. "Need to buy a new lock for my apartment."

Ren furrows his brow at that.

"A new lock? That doesn’t sound good. Can I ask why?"

You pause for a second, mulling over whether or not you should tell him. But, it doesn’t seem like there’s any harm in it. He’s a stranger, but what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like he’s going to show up at your door and test the lock himself.

"Apparently, someone broke into my apartment last night, and I didn’t even notice. I don’t think they stole anything, but still. It’s creepy," you say, feeling the unease creep up on you again.

You shrug slightly, trying to brush it off as casually as you can.

"I figured it’s better to be safe than sorry, you know?"

Ren looks genuinely concerned, his gaze softening as he listens.

"Stay up all night if you have to. Really get the edge on them," he says, an odd but kind suggestion.

You can't help but laugh at that. There’s something about his words—so unexpected yet sincere—that make it hard not to warm up to him. He seems more relaxed now, his usual awkwardness replaced by something far more comfortable. Maybe this is the side of him you like better.

"Yeah? And who’s gonna be the one to beat the guy up at 3AM?" you joke, though the thought of it does make you feel a little safer, somehow. "Because last I checked, I’m not really the type to go around throwing punches at people I don’t know. And definitely not before the sun is up and shining."

Before you can even finish your thought, Ren speaks up, his voice steady and confident.

"I could do it for you," he says without missing a beat.

You blink, not sure if you heard that right.

"You?" you ask, clearly surprised. "But— I mean, we don’t even know each other that well, and..."

Ren shrugs, unfazed.

"That’s fine," he says with a grin. "I could tell you aaaall about myself on the walk there."

Your eyebrows furrow as you take in his words, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. There’s something about his confidence, something different from the shy guy you met moments ago.

"My whole life story and everything," Ren continues, his grin widening. "Where I was born, the school I went to, how many cute librarians I’ve met..." He pauses, then adds, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Which happens to be one, so far."

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can, Ren seems to pick up on your reaction—your discomfort, or maybe your surprise—and quickly backtracks.

"Ah, well," he stammers, clearly realizing his words weren’t exactly what you expected. "What I meant was... You know, you’re really...uh...nice. And helpful. Really helpful. Sorry if that sounded weird."

You pause for a moment, your mind racing as Ren’s words continue to echo in your head. He could really help me out... You bite your lip, fighting off the unease that comes with letting a near-stranger into your space. But... he did seem strong, and the idea of not facing this alone makes the decision easier.

"Actually... you could come by my place," you say, surprising even yourself. "I mean, you seem strong enough to handle anything if, y'know, something goes wrong. Plus... you did offer." You give him a small, reassuring smile, hoping he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

Ren's eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your suggestion. But just as quickly, his expression shifts to one of eagerness, almost too eager. A wide grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah? Sure!! Of course! I’ll be there!" He practically beams, his earlier shyness vanishing. It’s like a switch flipped, and now he’s practically bouncing in place.

You can’t help but smile back at him, but a small voice in the back of your mind nags you. What are you doing? You barely know this guy. Still, the idea of him coming over... it almost feels right. Maybe you're being a bit of an idiot, but at this moment, you don’t really care. You nod to yourself, deciding to just go with it. He might be exactly what you need.

But then, just as you’re about to say something else, the sound of heels clicking across the floor interrupts you. You turn, and there’s Eleanor, walking up to the desk with that ever-sweet, slightly apologetic expression on her face.

"Hey, uh, your boss is here," she says, clearly noticing the way Ren’s mood shifts instantly.

Ren’s smile falters just a bit, and for a second, you think you see something close to irritation flash across his face. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by a polite smile. He shifts his gaze back to you, his posture still tense.

"Guess I’ll see you later?" he says, voice a bit lower than before.

You feel a pang of disappointment, but quickly shake it off.

"Yeah, I’ll see you," you reply, still smiling. "Take care of him, Eleanor." You give her a pointed look, making sure she knows to keep an eye on him while you’re gone.

With that, you quickly turn on your heel, not wanting to linger any longer. You’ve already made your decision. Time to move on. You wave a quick goodbye to Ren, your heart still pounding, and make your way out, hoping that whatever this is... doesn’t turn into something you’ll regret later.

Poor Ren, though. You can’t help but feel a little bad leaving him with Eleanor—poor soul. You can only imagine how that conversation is going to go.

You hurry out of the store, a strange feeling pulses in your chest—like something you've forgotten is suddenly coming back. Your mind keeps flashing to Ren, his words, the way his eyes shifted when you suggested he come to your apartment. Wait a minute...

You stop mid-step, your breath catching. It can’t be him... But as you replay everything in your mind—the soft, nervous demeanor, the blue eyes that glinted with something familiar, the awkward charm—Oh my god. It hits you like a lightning bolt. You weren’t an idiot! You did know him.

Ren was the boy who confessed to you all those years ago. The one Leon had scared off, That was him. The memories rush back. The shy, stuttering confession, the flushed face, the way he'd stood in front of you, unsure of how to make himself heard.

He was your childhood almost fiancé —the one who slipped away from your life without you even realizing it. You could hardly believe it, but now everything made sense. The way he'd been so eager to talk to you, his sudden confidence after the awkwardness—it was like he had been waiting for this moment, for you to recognize him.

You gasp, your heart racing. Ren No, Redacted. He’s been here this whole time.

You turn around, the impulse to rush back almost overwhelming, but then your feet freeze. What are you going to do? Run back to him and admit everything? Or would that make it all worse?

But before you can make up your mind, the voice in your head interrupts, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Screw it. You found him. Your childhood crush, who had somehow slipped through your fingers and now stands before you again.

This is it.

[yuri-is-online]

"Do be gentle with me." Why does Jade have to go saying things like that? He's the type to find a way to make you trip on fall on him on purpose then say that as if your some perv doing something to him then smile at you with that damn face.

"Do be gentle with me." He says like he's the one with his hands at his side in shock and not halfway up your shirt.

"Do be gentle with me." Like he's not keeping your arms pinning him to the ground with an iron grip

"Do be gentle with me~" As if he didn't leave that tab about "how humans have relations with merfolk" up on his monitor specially for you to see.

"Do be gentle with me." Murmered into your neck as he gives you a quick hug from behind, making sure to graze it with his teeth.

"Do be gentle with me." With a laugh as he watches you flail for air after one "short" kiss.

"Please be gentle with me" because seas know he has no intention of being gentle with you.

[arieswritez]

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

3.

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

thump.

thump.