#after that i went out as if nothing happened

[ahqkas]

♯ARTSY HANDS AND MINDS ( how would the batboys react to you making your own merch of their alter ego ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason — separated, fluff, established relationship, not edited, cursing, bases on this req.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

WHEN BRUCE UNLOCKED AND PUSHED the front door of your apartment open, the familiar scent of one of your candles immediately greeted him with warmth and the familiarity of home. he was finally home, with you. it had been a long night, after all, a long night of patrols and late emergency meetings at wayne enterprises. all he wanted was a quiet evening with you, a thing that finally came to him.

the sound of soft humming came from somewhere in the apartment, probably from your living room, much to bruce’s detective skills. he couldn’t help but let a gentle smile grace his face upon the sound as he hung his coat. you always seemed to brighten even the darkest of his days.

but as he rounded the corner to the living space, his smile froze.

there you were, the love of his life, sitting cross-legged on the old, beaten couch ( which bruce insisted on replacing but you didn’t let that happen, something about an emotional bond ) with a black hoodie spread across your lap. a large symbol graced its chest area. the bat-symbol, he realized. smalls jars of fabric paint surrounded your sitting form, and you were holding a delicate brush, adding details to your own craftwork.

bruce was caught of guard.

“bruce!” you gasped his name out when he came into the clear sight, startled. you even nearly dipped the brush in the wrong direction which would mess up with the project you were currently working on. a flush of warmth creeped up your neck. “you’re home early. i thought you’d be at the office for a while.” not that you minded.

“i finished up early,” he hummed and gestured towards the hoodie in your lap. the sight of the symbol, his symbol, stirred something deep within him. “what’s that?”

“oh, this?” your hands awkwardly hovered over the clothing. “it’s nothing, really. just a little project i’m working on.”

your man raised one eyebrow at your dismissal. “that’s quite detailed for ‘nothing’, sweetheart.”

you gave in after a second of thinking, saying to yourself it definitely wasn’t for the petname or the gentle command in his tone. “fine. you caught me. i’m making my own batman hoodie. but before you say anything, let me explain.”

“i’m listening.”

“well, i’ve been a fan of batman for a while now,” you began, eyes watching his face for every kind of a reaction. “not like one of those die-hard fans who camp outside at night trying to take pics of him or anything. just . . . i admire what he does for gotham. he’s a symbol of hope, you know. it’s nice to have someone who actually fights for the city.”

bruce felt a lump form in the back of his throat. you admired both bruce wayne, the gotham’s billionaire darling, and batman, a side of him that came out when the sun went down.

“and,” you continued, “i wanted a hoodie with the bat-symbol because it looks cool, but the official ones are ugly. they’re all this stiff fabric that itches with weirdly placed logos. i wanted something more casual. so, i thought, why not just make one myself?”

his heart skipped a beat once you finished your mini rant, the muscle tightening against the bones of his ribs. you had no idea you were speaking to batman himself, yet your admiration was pure and genuine. it reminded him why he wore the cowl in the first place — to protect people like you, who believed in a better gotham.

“well,” he said after a moment of just looking at you with that special look in the depths of his gaze. “if batman knew how much effort you put into this, he’d flattered.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE LINGERING ACHE IN HIS MUSCLES FROM THE ROOFTOP CHASE he had barely managed to win stained his sore body as he returned from a long night of patrol back home to you. his footsteps were silent, practiced from the countless times he’s done this, when he unlocked the front door to the apartment he shared with you. the lights were still on, spilling the warm light from the living room into the hall.

dick smiled to himself. you always waited up for him, no matter how late he came home from “work”, and it never failed to warm his heart.

to find someone who would do such thing as cut their sleep schedule for him was basically rare, but he managed to.

you were sitting cross-legged on the beloved couch dick himself chose, completely absorbed in your task. the couch has lived its fair share already, but it was well loved and had so many good memories, so you kept it. your boyfriend watched from the doorway as your brows created that adorable little v between them, furrowing in concentration. meanwhile, your hands worked carefully with blue and black yarn. your fingers clutched the unmistakable nightwing plush; complete with the signature blue symbol across its little chest.

you don’t actually know about nightwing. well, you know about his existence, about how the vigilante keeps blüdhaven’s streets safe from criminal activities, and you knew about the package beneath the tight spandex of his suit. what you didn’t know was nightwing’s true identity. you didn’t know how he always made sure to come back home to you, and you totally didn’t know that ass belonged to you.

“uhh . . .” he was caught of guard for a second here. “what are you doing?”

jumping slightly at the sound of his voice, you clutched the half-finished plush close to your chest as if protecting it from his praying eyes. “dick!” your face flushed with embarrassment. “you’re home early.”

he arched an eyebrow at your behavior, his gaze averting towards the digital clock of the tv before it shifted back to you. “it’s almost two in the morning. sooo . . . are you going to explain why you’re making a mini nightwing doll this late at night?”

“first of all, it’s not a doll. it’s a plushie.”

“of course, my bad. plushie.”

“and second,” you started to defend your actions more confidently when you noticed the slightest of smirk gracing his face. he looked tired, the strands of his bangs slightly damp with sweat and his eyes nearly dropping down with how the exhaustion pressed on him. yet he still managed to be all cheeky. “it’s not like i’m obsessed or something. i just — the fan-made ones were too expensive, and honestly none of them were cute enough, so i decided to make my own.”

dick stepped closer to your sitting form, fidgeting with his hands to hide his racing heart. “you’re a nightwing fan?”

you shrugged and started picking at a stray thread on the plushie. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s cool, and he’s probably the least terrifying out of all the vigilantes in both gotham and blüdhaven. plus,” you paused in the little rant he’d coaxed out of you. “i think he’s kinda hot.”

a loud cough interrupted you the moment those last words slipped past your lips. dick’s ears took on a pink hint, along with a more pronounced smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. the tired look in his eyes was suddenly long gone, too. “you’re a think he’s hot, baby?”

“yeah. it’s not like he’ll know i said that, though.”

oh, you had no idea.

“it’s not perfect,” you shaked the plush in your hands to make a point, “but i wanted it to look right. and i know it’s probably silly, but it makes me feel safe, in a weird way. like, if i ever needed help, he’d show up, you know?”

dick wanted to tell you the truth then and there — that nightwing would show up for you, every single time, because you were his main priority. nothing else mattered but your safety. but he couldn’t. not yet.

his fingers brushed yours instead, tracing the fabric of the yarn with a gentle touch. “i think it’s perfect. and if nightwing ever saw it, i’m sure he would be flattered.”

“yeah, right,” you laughed, actually laughed, and rolled your eyes in that way he adored. “like he’d care about some random plushie.”

he didn’t argue, though a part of him was already planning on leaving a little thank you! note the next time he patrolled near your apartment. for now, he could settle for leaning against your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON HAD BEEN IN A RUSH TO GET HOME. the heels of his boots crunched on the gravel beneath him before he shrugged his leather jacket and unlocked the front door to your apartment. tonight’s patrol had been rough — more bullets than he’d planned for and a few bruises he would have to hide later. all he wanted now was to crash on the couch with you, maybe with a shitty movie and some pizza if you hadn’t eaten yet.

he took a step inside, already feeling the tension and ache erasing from his muscles as the familiar warmth of the living space wrapped around him like a blanket. he was finally home.

but when he crossed the threshold into the living room, jason froze right on the spot.

there you were, curled up on the couch, wearing a black hoodie that looked far too big on your frame with a hand-painted crimson symbol on the chest. not just any symbol though — it was his symbol. the red hood insignia stood out vividly against the dark fabric of the hoodie. he couldn’t miss it even if he was blind.

and that wasn’t all. on the coffee table in front of you was a small knitted plushie. its tiny body was simple, but the details were on spot: a small red helmet and a matching chest symbol that mirrored the one on your own chest.

you weren’t supposed to know about red hood. to certain amount of course. jason couldn’t shield you from the outside no matter how much he would like to, but he could shield you from one of his many personalities — the red hood. you weren’t supposed to know about him being red hood. so, he hoped it was still the truth.

“hey, you’re home!” you must’ve heard him come in because you looked up at him with that sheepish smile he grew to cherish, all while holding up the plush up for inspection.

“yeah . . .” he trained off, scratching the nape of his neck. jason didn’t like lying to you any more than he had to, so making up some shitty excuse about where he was and what was he doing was pretty much pointless. instead, he turned the attention to the creations of your work. the hoodie and plushie. “what’s–uh–what’s this?”

you glanced down at yourself like you’d forgotten what you were wearing. “oh, it’s a red hood merch. well, kind of,” brushing a stray hair off the hoodie, you smiled up at him more confidently. “i made these.”

jason’s brows shot up. “you made them?”

“yeah! the official looked ugly—like who designed that stuff? and the fan-made ones were either way too expensive or just not what i was looking for. so, i figured, why not do it myself? and he’s kind of my favorite vigilante.”

he felt his heart skip a beat. your favorite?

what the fuck. “red hood is your favorite.”

it definitely didn’t sound like a question, it was spoken in way it sounded like a statement, but you answered him with a reason anyway. “mhm. he’s a badass. a little scary, sure, but in a good way. like, you know he’s got a soft spot somewhere under all the armor. i caught him feeding the stray cat on our fire escape the other day. it was cute.”

well, he wasn’t exactly careful with the cat, but he didn’t expect the meowing and hissing would catch your attention. stubborn stray.

jason blinked, more caught of guard than feeling the edge of panic. he should panic, you were practically close to discovering your careless boyfriend was red hood. he was at a loss of words. “cute” wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself — or his alter ego — but he wasn’t about to argue with you. instead, his fingers moved to trace the oversized sleeves of your hoodie, calloused fingertips brushing under the fabric to intertwine your fingers in one.

you didn’t know the truth, and maybe you never would, but as long as you felt safe and protected in his arms, he was okay with it. you were holding a piece of him he’d never given to you, and yet you loved him the same.

[vouam]

This reminds me of when I had a rash, couldn’t figure out what it was from the internet because it looked like a million different things. Went to the doctor, because this rash kept growing and nothing was curing it. He says ‘its called pityriasis rosea, nobody is really sure why it happens.’ It’s a self-curing rash after a few weeks thankfully so he said I don’t need to worry. But as he’s telling me more information he finally says ‘it mostly affects young adult women’

There it issss, that’s why no one knows anything about it!

So women, research this rash! And don’t panic if you have it because it’s not harmful. But jesus christ it looks scary, and I don’t want you guys to panic like I did 😭

wild how like PCOS, endometriosis, vaginismus & hell, even frequent yeast infections are “mysterious” with no well known cause and little to no decent treatment, but we have tons of supposedly well researched body fat removal methods, about 20 different kinds of breast implants, laser hair removal, and 100 different dermatologist recommended anti aging creams. we sure had the money and brainpower to cure those “diseases”

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[verstappenverse]

Lost in the Spin

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: A night of celebration spirals into scandal when compromising photos surface leaving Max trapped in a media storm, battling rumours, and desperately fighting to prove his innocence to the woman he loves.

3.5k words / Masterlist

The hum of engines still echoed in Max’s ears, familiar after years on the track. His adrenaline faded after another win, but today, without you in the paddock, without your smile when he stepped out of the car, it all felt just a little hollow. No number of trophies could quite compare to the warmth of your arms wrapping around him, or the way you’d press a kiss to his sweaty cheek as he grinned ear to ear.

This weekend work had kept you away, and the emptiness gnawed at him. The paddock was colder, quieter without your laugh or your teasing smile before the race.

For years, you had been Max's anchor. From the early days when he was still finding his feet in Formula 1, to now, where he was reigning champion, you had always been the one he relied on. You understood him in a way that no one else did, his obsessive drive, his passion for the sport, and his thoughts about what came next.

There were nights when Max would come home from the track, emotionally spent, drained from the pressure and you’d pull him into bed, running your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat until he fell asleep. You never pushed him to talk, never tried to make him explain the unexplainable weight of his career. You just understood.

And now, without you here, he felt the absence keenly. He’d spent the day texting you between sessions, short conversations where you asked how things were going, and he asked about your day, but nothing felt like the real thing.

Most of the other drivers were still buzzing, and the team celebrations were just getting started. The victory champagne had already been sprayed, and the post-race media obligations were done.

“Mate, come on! We’re heading out,” Lando called from across the room, grinning as he waved his arms to grab Max’s attention. “You’re not skipping out on us are you?”

Max groaned inwardly but forced a smile as he pushed himself up from the couch. He didn’t really want to go. You weren’t here, and that always made everything feel... off. But they were his friends, and he didn’t want to bring the mood down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Max muttered, grabbing his jacket. Maybe if he went out for a couple of drinks he could slip out and go back to his hotel early. Maybe then he’d call you, see if you were still awake, and you could talk until you both fell asleep.

The night stretched on longer than Max had anticipated. The first couple of drinks went down easily, and before he knew it he was a few rounds deep.

“Max, man, you’ve gotta lighten up!” One of his engineers grinned, slinging an arm around him. “You won! Let loose!”

Max chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I just... I miss her, you know?”

He gave him a sympathetic look, nodding. “I get it, mate. It’s hard when they’re not here. But hey, she’ll be proud when she sees you killed it today. She always is.”

“Yeah,” Max mumbled, taking another long sip of his drink.

The drinks kept coming, and Max’s thoughts became more and more scattered. The music was loud, the energy electric, he found himself pulled into random conversations, drinking more, and being swept up in the atmosphere. He briefly wondered what you were doing right now, probably getting ready for bed back home, maybe thinking about him, maybe—

“Hey, let’s take a photo!” someone shouted, interrupting his thoughts. Before Max could protest, a group gathered around him, pulling him in. He barely registered what was happening, his mind a swirling mix of booze and thoughts of you.

The next morning hit Max like a sledgehammer. His head pounded, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Groaning, he rolled over in bed squinting at the bright light filtering through the curtains of his hotel room. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, eyes still half-closed.

He had missed calls. Several, in fact. And dozens of unread texts.

The first thing he noticed was that they were almost all from you.

His stomach sank.

He immediately sat up, the haze of last night still fogging his memory. He scrolled through his notifications seeing message after message from you, at first they were light-hearted, asking how his night was going, but then as the hours went on they grew increasingly concerned and then... angry. He hadn’t even heard his phone go off last night. But why would you—?

And then he saw it. The photos.

There he was, in a series of several blurry, cropped photos, originally part of larger group shots that had been edited to focus solely on him and a girl he didn’t even recognise. His arm slung around her, though the angle of the photo made it seem much more intimate than it truly was. She was leaning into him, and in one of the images it appeared as though she was whispering in his ear—his grinning face too close to hers, the proximity creating an illusion of something more. In another her hand rested on his chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt, while his face tilted toward hers, their laughter caught mid-gesture.

And then, the worst of the bunch showed them so close that it looked as if their lips were just inches apart. The angle was impossible to decipher, the blur making everything uncertain, leaving the question of whether they were about to kiss or possibly already had.

“Shit,” Max cursed under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

His mind raced, trying to piece together the events of last night. He barely remembered the girl, didn’t even know her name, but now the entire world had seen them together. And worst of all, you had seen it.

He dialed your number immediately, his heart pounding in his chest. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Then it went to voicemail.

Max swore again, dialing you back right away. He was met with the same result.

“No, no, no... come on, please,” he muttered under his breath, quickly typing out a message.

Max:

Baby please call me. I need to explain. I didn’t do anything I swear. Please talk to me.

He sent it, but the ticks didn’t appear. You didn’t read it.

Frustration bubbled up in his chest, mixing with panic. He tried calling you again. Still nothing.

“Fuck, come on,” Max muttered, pacing the room as he tried again.

Straight to voicemail.

Max was worrying now, the events of the night before replaying in fragments in his mind. He hadn’t cheated. He was sure of it. He would never ever do that to you. But the photos... the way they looked. He couldn’t deny that they looked bad.

He looked to where they’d originally been posted and scrolled through the comments, his stomach turning with each one.

@f1fanatic:

Wow didn’t expect that from Max. Wonder how his girlfriend feels…

@paddockinsider:

This is so disappointing. Max always seemed so loyal. Looks like he couldn’t keep it together for one night.

@grandprixgossip:

Cheating rumors about Max Verstappen? Yikes, thought he was better than that.

The speculation was everywhere, spreading like wildfire. People were jumping to conclusions, dissecting every detail in the photos, claiming to know the truth about what had happened. It didn’t matter that Max knew nothing had happened—perception was everything, and it looked bad. Really bad.

Max's phone buzzed as he scrolled through another post, this one even worse. The headline screamed:

"MAX VERSTAPPEN CAUGHT CHEATING? EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS SHOW FLIRTING WITH MYSTERY WOMAN"

He felt sick.

More comments flooded in, each one more damning than the last.

@motorsportchatter:

Can’t believe Max would do this. Poor girl she doesn’t deserve that.

@f1drivergirls:

They were all over each other last night. Disgusting.

@paddockqueen:

I always thought there was something off about him. Fame’s clearly gone to his head.

Max’s head spun as he read the comments. It was like watching his entire reputation unravel in real time. Fans, media outlets, even people who barely knew anything about him were chiming in with their opinions, their judgments, their assumptions.

@F1Insider:

BREAKING: Max Verstappen seen partying with a mystery woman after race win.

He scrolled through more comments, his hands shaking. The social media storm was relentless. More media outlets were picking up the story, running with it, blowing the situation out of proportion.

@racingnews24:

Max Verstappen's off-track antics are making headlines today. Are the rumors true? Is he the latest F1 driver caught in a cheating scandal?

@f1gossip:

It's always the quiet ones. She’s better off with someone else.

@formulastyles:

Another guy who can’t keep it in his pants. Max seriously? Thought you were different.

Max’s breathing quickened, his chest tightening as he scrolled faster. He’d never cared much about social media. To him, it was just noise—a distraction from the things that really mattered. But right now that noise was deafening, and there was no way to escape it.

He clicked on one of the photos again, staring at the image of himself with the girl. The way her body leaned into his, the way his arm draped casually over her shoulders. The kind of picture that told a story all on its own, regardless of the truth. And in the age of instant judgment, perception was reality.

Max clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He hadn’t even known her. She was just some fan, some random girl who had been part of the celebration, someone he’d barely spoken to. But the photos didn’t care about the truth. They didn’t care that he’d been too drunk to notice how close she was standing, or that he hadn’t been thinking about anyone but you the entire weekend. All they showed was a snapshot—a moment out of context that painted him as the villain.

And now the entire world was running with that narrative.

His phone buzzed again, a new notification lighting up the screen.

@sportscelebgossip:

Max Verstappen seen cozying up to a mystery woman at a bar after his latest race win. Does this spell trouble for his long-term relationship?

Max’s stomach twisted. Cozying up? They made it sound like he’d been on a date, like he’d planned it, like he wanted to be with someone else. It was absurd, infuriating—but most of all, it was terrifying.

Max dropped his phone onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. How had things gotten this bad? He had always been careful, always tried to protect the privacy of your relationship, to keep it out of the public eye as much as possible. He never wanted you to get dragged into the chaos of his life, especially not like this.

He couldn’t stop the comments. He couldn’t erase the photos. And now, he couldn’t reach you.

He wanted to punch something, scream at someone, do anything to make it stop, but nothing would change the fact that you had seen the photos, and you thought he had betrayed you.

Max tossed his phone onto the bed, his frustration boiling over. His heart ached as he thought about what you must be feeling right now. He could picture you scrolling through the photos, reading all the horrible comments people were making online. He knew how it must look to you, like he had broke your trust, like he’d been out celebrating without a care in the world, getting close to someone else.

But that wasn’t what happened. It wasn’t. He had to make you understand. You had to believe him.

He stared at the screen, waiting, hoping to see the dots appear, telling him you were typing back. But nothing came. The dots never showed up.

The hours dragged on, and with each minute that passed, Max felt more and more trapped in his own head. You still weren’t answering his calls or texts. He had sent message after message, each one more desperate than the last, but still you gave him nothing in return.

His team had already started damage control telling him not to say anything publicly yet. “We’ll handle it,” they’d said. But Max didn’t care about the media. He didn’t care what the rest of the world thought of him. All he cared about was you.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and for a split second he thought it was you.

Daniel:

Hey man those photos are all over the place. You good?

Max stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Was he good? No. Not even close.

Max:

No. I’m not good. She won’t talk to me she won’t even answer my calls. I think she believes I cheated.

The response came almost immediately.

Daniel:

She knows you Max, she’s just hurt right now. Give her some time.

Time. That’s all anyone ever said in situations like this. But Max didn’t want to wait. He needed to fix this now.

His phone buzzed again, and his heart jumped when he saw it was you this time, but it wasn’t a call just a single heartbreaking text.

You:

Stop calling. I can’t talk to you right now I’m too upset to even think straight. I never thought you’d put me in this position. Give me some space.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Max stared at the screen, reading them over and over again, disbelief clouding his mind.

“No, no, no... fuck…this can’t be happening,” he whispered to himself.

He dialed your number again, it went straight to voicemail this time like you had turned your phone off, or worse blocked his number.

His throat tightened, a sense of helplessness washing over him. For the first time in years Max didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make this right, how to fix the mess he was in.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the same spot where you’d been for hours, your phone clutched in your hand. You wanted to believe Max. You really did. But the photos...they looked so convincing. The way he had held her, the way she leaned into him, it made your stomach churn.

Max had never given you a reason to doubt him before, but seeing those images had stirred up insecurities you didn’t even know you had.

You wanted to talk to him. A part of you needed to hear his voice, to hear him explain what had happened. But you were afraid. Afraid that if you did, if he told you some half-hearted excuse or tried to brush it off, you’d believe him because you loved him too much to let him go.

The worst part was, you knew Max. You knew him better than anyone. And deep down, some part of you didn’t believe he’d cheat on you. Not Max. But doubt had crept in, planting seeds that grew with every hour.

Your phone buzzed again lighting up with another message from him. You glanced at it your heart aching as you saw his name. Part of you wanted to open it, but the pain was still too fresh.

You tossed the phone onto the cushion next to you, pulling your knees up to your chest as tears stung the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had built something with Max, something solid, something real. And now it felt like it was slipping through your fingers because of one stupid night.

You grabbed your phone back to scroll through the photos again, your stomach twisting with every swipe. The comments were brutal, and while you knew better than to believe everything you read online, the pictures... they weren’t so easy to ignore. The images of Max and that girl were burned into your mind, replaying over and over until you felt physically ill.

You’d trusted him. For years, you had stood by his side, believing in him, loving him through everything. You had always known the kind of world he lived in—the parties, the media attention, the constant pressure to perform both on and off the track. But you had never questioned him. Not once. Until now.

You blinked back tears still scrolling mindlessly through social media, reading the comments from people who didn’t even know you. Strangers who were dissecting your relationship like it was some sort of spectacle, something to be debated and analysed.

@gossipgirls:

I feel so bad for his girlfriend. She seems so sweet, and now this? Max really messed up.

@racingqueen:

Cheating rumors about Max? Saw it coming tbh. Athletes, any of them can’t be trusted.

@formulamak:

I don't know why anyone shocked, let's be real these wags know what they sign up for

@fanofthewheel:

Honestly she should leave him.

Everyone seemed so sure of what had happened, so sure that Max had betrayed you. And as much as you didn’t want to believe it, the photos were right there, clear as day.

You wiped away a tear, feeling the pain of it all settle deep in your chest. You had loved him so fiercely, so completely. You had built your life around him, supported him through the highs and lows of his career, always believing in the man he was off the track. But now, it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

Max spent the entire day spiralling. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t fix it, couldn’t even explain what had really happened. Every missed call felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, every unanswered text another punch to the gut.

He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like this. But you weren’t answering, and the fear that you might actually believe the worst was starting to consume him.

By the time night fell, Max was a wreck. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed staring at his phone, willing it to light up with your name.

Daniel:

How are you holding up?

Max hesitated for a moment before responding.

Max:

Not great. She still won’t answer my calls. I think she believes it.

Daniel:

Have you tried showing her everything? Like, explain it step by step?

Max clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Max:

I’ve tried. She probably thinks I’m lying. What if she really leaves?

Daniel:

It won’t come to that. She knows who you really are. It’ll be alright.

Max stared at Daniel’s words, wishing he could believe them. But the fear that you might not forgive him gnawed at his insides.

You had been there through it all—through the wins, the losses, the injuries, the late-night flights, and the endless media scrutiny. You had seen him at his worst and still loved him anyway.

Max swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let this be the end of everything.

Later that night as you lay in bed the quiet of your apartment was deafening. Your phone buzzed again, and this time, you couldn’t help it—you reached for it, your heart in your throat.

Another message from Max.

Max:

Please, baby. I need you to listen I need you to believe me. I love you so much I would never, ever do this to you. You’re my world. Please, talk to me.

You stared at the message, the sincerity in his words was unmistakable. You typed a response, your fingers trembling as you hesitated over the words.

You:

Max, I don’t know what to believe right now. Those pictures…

The dots appeared almost immediately, and then his reply came through.

Max:

I know they look bad but I swear to you nothing happened. I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even talk to her for more than a few minutes. I was drunk and I didn’t even realise how close she was. But you have to believe me I would never do that to you. You know me. I love you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest as you read his words. Part of you wanted to believe him so badly, but the doubt still lingered. Was he using the trust and love you had for him to get away with something? The thought made your stomach churn, but you didn’t believe he would be capable of that.

Your phone buzzed again.

Max:

Please. Just give me a chance to explain. We can talk in person. I can fly to you right now. Just... don’t walk away from this. Don’t walk away from us.

Tears welled in your eyes. You didn’t want to lose him. You didn’t want to throw away everything the two of you had. But you were scared—scared of being hurt, scared of trusting and finding out you were wrong. The thought of more photos or videos coming out, exposing more of what you didn’t want to see terrified you.

Finally you typed back a single word.

You:

Okay.

Max saw your message and felt like he could finally breathe again. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. You were willing to listen, willing to let him explain, and that was all he needed. He quickly typed a response.

Max:

I’ll be there soon. I love you.

[vmlnrzmp4]

nsfw

cw: reader's first time going full way, 3 different positions, porn w plot, no use of condom(don't be silly, wrap the willy.) a/n: i usually don't give cw, trying to keep the smut a surprise. i have proof read it, but i think there might be some errors. feel free to correct me.

the air around was charged as the shuffling, heavy pants and moans filled the room. it was another one of kaiser's and yours pathetic dry humping session.

his head leaning on the head-rest while his hands gripped your hips, urging your movements to go faster and faster and faster—till the both of you come undone.

you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, the room filling with exhausted panting.

"so good angel," he kissed your temple, "so good."

but a word taunted you in your head. you faced him, meeting your eyes with his, "mihya...am i boring?"

"what are you saying angel?" he raised his eyebrow, clearly confused where that came from, "if this is about sex then no, you're not boring."

it had happened a day ago. you had gone out with your friends. sitting in a public cafe, talking about each other's sex life without a care, shamelessly—no matter how many people stared in surprise and disgust.

shortly after you and your friends were kicked out, the first thing they did was to drag you into a pharmacy. they told you to not to worry about the prescription. you wordlessly agree, taking the small rectangular box of birth control pills—so that you can stop with the boring sex life as your friends described it.

was it boring? sure you and your boyfriend never went any further that that and orals. but so lost in enjoying them, you never thought it would be considered boring and you got self conscious. what if he thinks like them? you worried.

"hey," kaiser cradled your face, his voice so gentle, "where did that come from?"

"tell me," you asked firmly, "do you ever wish to go further than this?"

"all the fucking time," he answered without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the lovely guesture contrast to his lewd words.

the silence that followed didn't take much time as you started unbuttoning his shirt. just when you were down to two, he gripped your wrist, "are you sure?"

"yes." your response was quick.

he smirked, giving you a go-ahead and you went back to undoing the buttons, not bothering to even take off the shirt off his shoulders as you ran your fingers on his chest to his abs.

you reached his belt, undoing it—him helping you take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor unconcernedly. he then pulled over your shirt off, unclipping your bra, also throwing away your shorts alongwith your panties.

he asked you if you were sure again. you nodded but he needed words.

"i want this."

"that's my girl," he presses his face in the crook of your neck, "ride me."

the next moment you found him in you. you didn't move however. he didn't let you. telling you that he had to take care of your tits first, running his hands around them.

"i wanna move," you whined, your hands that rested on his shoulders dug into his skin. it didn't pain him. even if he did, he considered it pleasure.

"patience angel, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?"

you hummed a yes, "i wanna...but i want to move."

"beg."

"please," you pleaded, "i wanna move, mihya...i wanna feel you more...so badly, please."

he smirked, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a shit eating grin as he coos at you, nodding at you to proceed.

it took you a bit by surprise when he moaned. yes, kaiser moaned. sure, the little pathetic sessions before had him grunting. but nothing compared to how he moaned now as you kept bouncing on his cock.

but other than that, the sight in front of him was to behold. you were getting there, he could tell by the way your bounces fastened and became irregular, following a certain pattern. his hands gripped your hips so tightly as he helps you bounce, the bed creaking and creaking.

the creaking finally stopped as the two of you reached peak and you slowed down, riding out your high.

"angel," he called out softly, "think you can go one more time?"

"yes, god, yes yes!" so lost in the moment, you threw the shame out of the window, letting arousal take over you.

he positioned you beneath him, as he littered kisses down your neck, collarbone—down to your tits, his tongue circling around your nipples without breaking eye contact.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he aligned his cock in you. your leg over his shoulder, the other one spread out by his grip as he pounds into you with no mercy, "god," he breaths out, "look at you angel, so beautiful." oh how can his words be so lovely when he's fucking the sweet moans out of you.

"w-wait," you halt him.

"angel?"

"...kiss me, please?" and oh how could he say no? he leaned down, capturing your lips with his into a sweet kiss with simultaneously fucking you. he leans lower, biting into your shoulder, making you hiss.

"mihya...so—" you got interrupted when he hit the spot just right, letting a moan surpass your lips, "so c-close."

he chuckles at your pityful words, stopping and before you could even ask why he did so—he flips you around with a swift motion as his grip on your hips tighten, manhandling you to raise your ass upwards, your face squished in the pillow.

he pounds into you mercilessly from back. the room filling in with his moans, your muffled whimpers, the slapping sounds of the skin and creaking of bed. it was so so lewd.

"fuck angel...im not gonna last any longer. you close?"

you barely managed to choke out a muffled yes. at that, his movements grew erratic, though he didn't slow down.

he knew you came when he hears a loud cry of his name muffled. he thrusts into you a few more times as he cums inside you. pulling out, a groan escapes his lips as he sees his release dripping from your pussy.

he lays besides you, gently urging you to face him as he kisses you. he kisses and kisses. slow, fast, biting, licking. all of it, still having a gentle touch to it.

"you did so good angel," he pecks your forehead, "so good for me." he litters more kisses on your face, pulling you into his embrace, telling you how good you did, whispering sweet nothings.

"let's clean up yeah?" he exhales, "then i'll run to the store real quick."

"no need," you say.

"no need?" he questions, "what d'ya mean?"

"i um...brought plan B."

he lets out an airy laugh, "you were prepared, huh?"

"well..." you go on telling him about the conversation you had the day before. how your friends described their sex life. and when it came to you, they said what you and kaiser do was boring. he laughs at that, pulling you closer, calling you a dummy. he was thankful for it nonetheless.

"c'mon let's shower," he says, tho there was a tease in his tone, "another round?"

[space929]

This is an old post and I've talked about their relationship before and I'm doing it again because it needs to be done.

Which makes it sound like I disagree with the above, which I do not. This is 100% a based post.

Obvious TWs I think.

I gave him quite a bit of leeway in that I focused on the latter half of this scene and emphasized the difference in listening between the beginning of the movie and that portion, but this is really important to talk about.

This isn't an "error" that good parents make. There are a couple of reasons I think he might have done that - character wise - but none of them are good. Most of them have to do with emotional distancing and emotional immaturity. But I digress.

Let's talk about the beginning of this scene.

As I mentioned in my previous post, George is a lot like my mom. In that scene, he is very likely projecting. Gwen being angry and pointing out his "mistake" (quotes because I feel like it stops being a mistake when it involves a gun and time to think. Like, he's a cop. He has a permit. He has to know what to not do - I hate guns and I know what to not do! You do not point it at anything you do not intend to shoot. It stops being a mistake when you intend to shoot a child) makes him feel guilty, so he takes it out on her.

She needs to be quiet so he doesn't have to think about the hard things.

This is an idea that is incredibly prominent and generally comes hand-in-hand with the thought that you owe your parents respect regardless of what they do and how much they give you.

He gives her nothing up until this point. He does not listen to her, he talks about something he is aware she does not like or agree with and then shuts her down when she says that, he shuts her down every time she tries to share her feelings.

And then he's upset when she finally tries to shut down for the final time because he actually threatened her life. But that has to be her fault, because if it isn't, he would have to look in on himself and recognize the very real problems in their relationship and that they stem from him. The reason she never told him comes from him. The reason she left is because of him. The reason she's mad is him.

But then he'd have to deal with the guilt and self-reflection that comes with that, and that's uncomfortable. That's painful. It's far more comfortable if she keeps her emotions over there and he gets to remain the unquestionable authority that can do no wrong.

Anyway. This is just why he's doing it. It isn't an excuse or a justification. This is an awful way to think.

So he also tried to leave the house when she was mad at him. I went through and read the transcript for this part and it calls him a child for this which is hilarious. She follows after him to - and I pull this from the transcript - keep him from walking out the door.

She has learned to be more mature than her father. To go to him because he will never come to her.

There's just one more thing I want to mention.

Gwen's speech, which I love, focuses on her. It focuses on Ghost-Spider (I know that's not her name in ATSV but it's so much better and it should be) and the good she's trying to do.

It never mentions the way he hurt her. And I believe that that's because she knows he would shut down if it did. If she talked about him and what he did, he wouldn't respond the same.

When I was twelve, my mom practically kicked me out of the house to live with my dad. She got mad at me for this fact. To this day, I cannot talk to her about how I feel about this. I can complain to her about living with him. I can complain about him. I cannot tell her that she hurt me. She'll accept the first, she'll guilt trip me for the second.

And I think Gwen knows something similar would happen. She knows what not to mention.

I don't like how Jefferson parents. I think he's too authoritarian in a lot of cases. But they're right. He would never point a gun to Miles.

I ended my last one with an optimistic take on the fact that he was trying, and I want to end this one the same way, but the reality is that I gave a lot of leeway. He's done a lot of introspection, sure, but he hasn't done enough. He has to learn to take criticism that isn't edged around but never directly hitting the point.

George Stacy is not a good parent. I hope that he tries. I hope he learns. But he is not a good parent, and it's important to acknowledge that.

I still think about how Gwen's dad pointed a gun at her, and then got mad when Gwen didn't want to talk/look at him.

Like, sir, you pointed a GUN to your teenage DAUGHTER. You raised your gun back up after she unmasked.

Like, you found out Spider-ghost was your daughter and you still thought she killed HER best friend?? And on purpose??

You had a duty as a police man to what?? Shoot your unarmed teenage daughter if she tried to leave?? Instead of trying to let her explain at least??

Even Aaron let Spiderman go when he found out he was his nephew, and he was the villain.

[k1mbe3rly]

can you write a daeho smut where hes upset and gets hard while reader is comforting him then said reader makes him jerk off in front of her? then maybe after theres more smut with him as the sub? SORRY THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST IDK IF IM DOIGN IT RIGHT

ngl this is so creative that i’m doing it right after writing hella 😈😈 lowkey seeing the image of it 😩

Comfort took a wrong turn (i had no idea what to name this😢)

warnings: Smut, sub!dae-ho, lowkey some reason getting turned on, gentle fucking, praising

You’ve been noticing Dae-ho flinching or getting nervous every single time he hears a gunshot, you knew he was an ex marine so maybe he had trauma? your not sure.

Whenever they were gonna go shoot the guards to get to the control room , Dae-ho decided to stay back, after awhile he had heard a ton gunshots, he covered his ears, shaking in his bed

You had went up to him and crawled next to him, you looked at him in a bit of concern, “I’m sorry! i’m so sorry.. i just can’t do this! the gunshots!” he whimpered out, his hands shaking still covering his ears as he shut his hair, “it’s gonna be okay..i promise, nothing is gonna happen to you if just stay here okay?” you said hugging him

Even tho his ears were covered he can still hear you but just a bit muffled, he finally put his hands down, still shaking he slowly wrapped his hands around you as well, “Y/n..it won’t stop! im sorry.” he whispered, you stroked his hair a bit, he leaned into your touch, allowing you to stroke his hair, “Shhh.. it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, do you trust me?” you say back to him

He looks up at you a nodded, you get a little bit closer your hands wrapped behind his neck and one hand still stroking his hair, your body was against him, he barely realized and his body begins feeling a bit hot, his cheeks were burning up as well as he looked down as your body, your boobs slightly pressed up against his shoulder

He begin feeling really hot and looks down and notices he has a bulge in his pants. He gulped as his adam’s apple bounced along his gulp, “It’s gonna be okay dae-ho, just don’t focus too much on the sounds okay? focus on me for now” you whispered as he nodded, he slightly moved you to be infront of him so kinda on his lap which you didn’t mind, you kept hugging him as he begin rubbing and down your back, he was thinking about many lewd thoughts about you. He shut his eyes as bucked his hips, you felt him did so, as you backed up a bit in confusion and looked down noticing he was hard

He quickly flushed in embarrassment and tried hiding his bulge, “i-i’m sorry! i couldn’t help it.. you were just so close to me and-“ he begin quickly explaining but you cut him off with a chuckle, “You got hard from me basically trying to comfort you?” you spoke, he nodded , “That’s..that’s kinda pathetic” you said while sitting on his lap on his bulge, he let out a whine “I-i know i’m sorry! i couldn’t help it i promise it won’t happen again!” he quickly said “Yea..make sure it doesn’t. But for now i want you to take off your pants okay?” you said rubbing his cheek as he quickly nodded

You got up sitting on his legs instead of his lap, he pushed down his pants to his knees, His boxers strained with a small wet spot, his cock slightly twitching in his wet boxers, you smirked at him, “Good boy.. now take those off as well”, he chuckled nervously at the praise but quickly listen shoving them down to his knee, his cock was spilling pre cum as the cold air that hit his cock made him shiver, “Stroke yourself for me” you said simply, he looks at you with puppy eyes, just like a puppy he quickly follows your orders

He begin stroking himself, his hands going up and down his cock, his breath hitched as he looked down at his cock than back at you, he kept going small whines falling out his mouth, you smirked at him as you bit your lip and continued watching, feeling your pussy slightly throbbing, your desire to make him moan out your name but you wanted to wait, he continued stroking himself as moans begin falling out

He went faster, his cock twitching a bit, you traveled your hands under your pants and slightly rubbed yourself at the sight of him, he made a small gasp when he saw you, he kept jerking himself off and while a loud whine he came, his cum spilling over his hand as he panted, he shut his eyes a bit before looking at you, you had took your hands out of pants, “Wow..what a performance you can put on” you said quietly, “C-can i fuck you? please? i-i wanna be inside you!” he said breathlessly, you chuckled a bit and got closer

“Are you able to handle it?” you questioned him, he quickly nodded, “Yes! yes please.. im able too!” he said looking like a puppy who’s tail is wagging, he slowly got on top of you placing you down on the bed gently

he begins taking off your pants and panties, he looks at your cunt which was soaking wet, he smiled a bit as he spread your, he then placed himself between your legs, grabbing his cock a bit and lining himself on your entrance, “Are.. are you okay with this?” he gently asked, you nodded, he then begin pushing his tip in as he moaned at the warmth feeling, he pushed in nice and slowly making sure he doesn’t hurt you, once his full length was inside you he gently asked you “Does it hurt?”, you shaked your head “No” you simply said as he nodded, “Okay ima start moving..” he said as he slowly pulled back and begin thrusting into you gently making sure not to go too rough or too fast

you moaned softly as he leaned over you, his face in your neck and his hands on each side of your head, he moved his hips nice and slowly, “Yea..just like that baby, nice and slowly” you spoke softly as he shivered, your hands went to his hair slightly gripping it as he kept pushing into you in and out, you kept moaning softly “A-am i doing good?” he questioned, “Mhm..your doing just good baby, so good, what a good boy..” you spoke softly as his cock twitched when you called him a good boy, he tried hiding his big smile against your neck as he kept thrusting into you, his cock hitting deep and into the spot that makes you cum, “Yea~ right there baby, keep going..” you moaned softly as he nodded and kept hitting that exact spot, your orgasm approached as he kept hitting your g spot, “Shit baby- i’m gonna cum~” you moaned out as he tried going a bit faster making you cum quickly, you moaned out as you cummed, a white ring line formed, he stopped and looked at you with pure love, even tho he barely knows you, you looked back at him and smiled warmly

“i-i think i’m in love with you..” he said blinking at you as you chuckled and shaked your head

[3amfanfiction]

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

Next

[dooberific]

❝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘎𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘺𝘴 (𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘮 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘖𝘯𝘦) ❞

harumasa x afab!pubsec!reader

genre: slice of life, hurt w comfort, vengeful woman meets silly man, reader is intentionally insane so get ready to cringe and die on the inside right alongside her, suggestive

summary: your heart has been broken a few too many times, and he’s broken a few too many hearts. the perfect flip side to each other’s coins, surely nothing bad could happen if you both accept silly bets.

wc: 11.2 k

I rocked my own shit w this trust me, but I was inspired by cinema. READ THE TAGS, I wrote this and made myself violently cringe a few times but you gotta see it through. Trust the process bbgs

There is a flip side to every coin, another half to every story, a perfect balance in nature between opposing forces.

On one side was him, and on the other, you. 

The bar was busy, brimming with a number of people. Business men with loosened ties enjoying a round after a long day, young women out for an evening on the town to celebrate, officers you recognized personally taking a load off their minds after a busy shift. The energy was relaxed, but maybe it was just the martini you nursed as you leaned against the bar talking.

“Trust me, there is not a single woman in this bar who would think any less of you.” Zhu Yuan slurred, stirring her own drink, a flush of red already creeping up the sides of her neck.

She was referring to the woes in which you confided with her. As your closest friend through the police academy, she had been unshakeable even as your rank advanced past her own. You had worried that things would change after your last promotion, that when you took the seat of Janus Quarter Commander of PubSec with the revelation of Bringer’s corruption that your relationship would become strained but that fear had long abated. She was just the same as ever, another loveless soul keeping you company, another person rather hopeless when it came to relationships.

She plucked the toothpick from her glass, the wooden stick garnished with olives as she pointed it at you. “What you need, is to start taking back.” 

She drew an olive off the stick with her teeth, chewing it thoughtfully. “‘s not fair, you are wayyy too good of a girl to be toyed with like this.” 

Your head hung. She was right, it really didn’t seem fair. You were successful, had a good job, and you liked to think your personality and looks weren’t half bad. But there was just something in the equation that was missing, some integral piece that left you chronically unable to keep a man for more than a week. It was nothing short of a mystery, one that slowly chipped away at your self esteem despite your best efforts.

“What do you suggest I do?” You mused, head raising as you took a sip of your drink.

Zhu Yuan shrugged, head swiveling as she surveyed the crowded bar, plucking another olive from the toothpick in her glass. She gasped as if struck with some brilliant plan, head whipping back in your direction. 

“You need to go find a guy.”

Your face instantly went stony. “I’m not following.”

“No, no, you need to go find a guy. Play with him a bit, make yourself a real dream girl in his eyes, then give him a taste of his own medicine. Drop his ass before he can even wrap his head around what happened, and leave him running for the hills.”

“That’s diabolical,” you countered, turning to lean your back against the bar so you could survey the room, glass raised back to your painted lips. 

“I love it.”

At the same bar, at the same time, sat the other side of your coin, a can of some bitter melon soda leaving a ring of condensation on the table by his elbow. He didn’t drink much, ya know “alcohol is bad when you take a lot of medication”, but he didn’t mind the social aspect of a bar scene when things seemed promising. 

There were a couple other HSO officers milling around aside from the ones he accompanied, Miyabi and Yanagi both perched at the table with him. He was hoping to get some leg up on things at the office with this little excursion, a little leverage to use on Yanagi next time she smugly refuses his time off request, but the conversation had rapidly devolved in a way that he could have done without.

“You need to be more thoughtful, Asaba.” Yanagi chided, the lens on her glasses flashing momentarily under the bar lighting as she adjusted her glasses. 

“I understand that you have personal issues you don’t like to discuss, but this serial dating thing you’re doing is starting to impact more than just yourself.”

He groaned dramatically. “C’mon Tsukishiro, I didn’t think she would show up at the office like that. I told you she was,” his finger raised circling his temple to emphasize his point, “crazy.”

Yanagi’s brow furrowed, glare deepening as she crossed her arms.

“And what about the one who staged a stake out in the parking lot in front of my car?” 

He shrugged. “She was insecure.” 

“And what, the poor girl before that was just some clinical sociopath?”

“Maybe?”

“She was the mailroom girl! She was totally normal! Asaba you can’t just blame everything on them. At some point you need to take responsibility for your part in it too. That’s why,” she pulled a folded stack of papers from her bag, tossing them on the table. 

“I won’t be accepting any of your leave requests until you can prove to me you can keep a relationship longer than a week.” 

Yanagi may as well have dropped a brick on his head from some great height from the way he reacted.

“Tsukishiro!”

“No, Asaba, I’m not backing off on this. You have to prove yourself, but I am willing to make a deal with you. If you can date a girl of my choice for ten days and she be willing to say you were nothing but an absolute peach, then I will approve you for a solid week of leave. No questions asked.”

He perked up. “No questions asked, huh? Deal.”

Yanagi grinned evilly as she turned in her seat, scanning the crowd within the bar with a thoughtful hum. There were plenty of options, both good and bad but of all those present she was drawn rather conclusively to the figure leaned against the bar, a tasteful yet flirtatiously cut dress hugging her figure perfectly as she sipped her drink. 

The Public Security Commander for the Janus Quarter? 

Yes, you would do well to make his life miserable, she thought as she pointed a manicured nail in your direction.

“I want you to go talk to her.”

His golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he rose from his seat, popping another button on his shirt as he loosened his tie.

“Bet.”

Day One - Make Him Crave You

You had somewhat unsuccessfully prowled the bar for your victim. Too many duds and married men, and you considered yourself above being a homewrecker. No need to kill someone else’s happiness, it wasn’t the respectable married folk who saw it fit to drag your heart through the mud. 

You were all too ready to give up and call it a night as you leaned against the wall. Going home and slipping off your heels and enjoying a greasy pizza on your couch was sounding much better than revenge at the moment, but it seemed fate had a different plan.

He was tall enough that he still maintained a few inches of height on you even in your heels, a fair complexion complemented with a mess of curled black hair. His face seemed familiar, though you hadn’t fully placed it in the time it took you to meet his eye and him to arrive at your side. 

You grinned over the rim of your glass. “Hi.”

He echoed your sentiment, a smile on his face as he stopped just within your personal bubble. Interested already? A good sign. Him being handsome was an added bonus, smoldering honeyed eyes warming you from the inside out. Hm, maybe too handsome.

“(y/n) (l/n).”

“Asaba Harumasa.”

Oh shit. He was an HSO executive officer, no wonder you found his face familiar, but if he knew you his face didn’t give it away.

“Cute.” You murmured, taking care to bat your lashes. 

“Thank you.”

“I meant your name.”

His brow raised, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Thank you twice then.”

“Single?”

“Currently.”

“Surprising.” 

He hummed, giving you a once over. He was bold, you would give him that. “Same. Psycho?”

“Rarely.”

“Interested?”

“Maybe.”

You could practically see the thrill of the chase burning him alive, his lopsided grin relaxed even as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Leaving?”

“With you? Only if you ask nicely.”

“Please?”

You held up a finger. “You’ve charmed me, one moment.”

You slipped past him and back to the bar, sidling up to Zhu Yuan as you passed her your glass. “Got one. Black hair, choker.” You giggled, as her head whipped over her shoulder to where you just came.

“Shit, (y/n), an HSO officer?” She threw back the rest of her drink before snatching up yours. “Good luck, girl, call me when you make it home?”

“Of course,” you bumped her with your hip as you grinned, “See you tomorrow~.”

You would admit that you had low expectations for dinner, after all, he was just some loser you met in a bar, so a sit down meal was a real treat. The conversation flowed easily, discussing work, life, things you had in common, and before you knew it you were pressed against the door of his apartment with his tongue in your mouth and his hands on your ass. 

He fumbled to get the lock undone, attention divided between the sloppy work of your lips hot against his mouth and a tiny keyhole that seemed much too difficult to overcome. The door gave way and you squeaked with surprise, as you stumbled backwards, hands stilled knotted in his hair as your back thumped against the door once more.

He laughed against your lips, the smear of your lipstick painted across his own. “Too fast?”

You nodded, your thumb brushing against his swollen lower lip. “Too fast.”

“Right…too fast,” he wasn’t listening and you supposed you weren’t either because you didn’t argue when he kissed you again, your fingers knotting into the back of his shirt. He rocked his hips against yours and you moaned against his lips, his tongue snaking into your mouth. He tasted like the gum you gave him after dinner. 

Your hands slid down to rest against his chest. Despite his lithe stature you could feel the muscles beneath his thin work shirt as you pushed him away. 

“I’ll see you around, Harumasa.” You said as you slipped past him and back into the hallway, peeking coyly over your shoulder at him. “Do yourself a favor and call me sometime.” 

You grinned as you exited back onto the street, the air crisp in your lungs like the world was congratulating you on your skill. Now it would be a waiting game, waiting on your phone to ring once he realizes you left your purse sitting on the floor of his apartment. 

You hoped he was a praying man, because he would need all the help he could get.

Day Two - Be the Cool Girl 

Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you worked on a new project submitted to your office. So far things had been quiet, but you expected that to not last much longer with how your cellphone sat perched beside you on the desk.

It rang once, twice, and you answered on the third, leaning back in your seat with a grin.

“Pray tell what I’ve done to be graced with a call from you today?” You hummed, a lock of your hair curling around your finger as he laughed on the other end of the line.

“You left your purse at my place.”

“Ohh, yeah I can’t believe I left it there.”

“I just figured you might want it back with all the cash, credit cards and those… reverb arena tickets for the New Eridu Underground Target Archery Club Finals for tonight.”

“Sounds like somebody’s been going through my bag.”

His head rolled lazily to the side where he sat at home on his couch, your bag on the coffee table. “No, you see my cat is super curious and knocked it off the counter where I put it last night and dumped it out.”

The cat, once resting quietly at his side now looked up at him as if it understood his words. He scratched its chin as it purred. 

“If you insist, but you’ll be disappointed because I’m going with someone else.”

“Not anymore you’re not. I don’t think you left your purse here on accident, if you ask me I think you subconsciously wanted to take me out again tonight.” 

Zhu Yuan would be disappointed but you were sure she would understand, it was for the greater good in the grand scheme of things after all. 

You hummed. “Alright then, mister psychic, I will see you at the street entrance at seven o’clock?”

“You got it~.”

The entrance to the Reverb Arena was busier than usual when you arrived, waving to Harumasa who already stood waiting for you, your purse in his hand. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” You called with grin, receiving your purse back as he extended it to you, his eyes trained momentarily on your shirt.

“Didn’t take you as a fan of the New Eridu Archery club.” He said as he nodded towards the graphic emblazoned across the front of your shirt. 

“I’m just fond of the Janus Quarter team.” You countered. 

“No kidding,” He fished a card from his wallet as he passed it to you. The faded blue plastic was stamped with the archery club’s insignia, the back etched with his name and member number. Looks like you would be dodging any price inflation tonight, members of the club received certain perks after all. 

 “Consider the rest of your evening on me then.” 

The arena was crowded as you had expected for the first night of the finals, but your seats were perfect despite the swell of other bodies pressing you close to his side. Part of you had thought it would be a less sought after event, but the crowd rapidly energized as the event continued to the final rounds of the night. 

You eyes trailed from the ring to your date, his eyes laser focused on the match. You almost felt a little guilty when you shook his arm.

“Haru, Haru? I’m really thirsty, could you go get me a drink?” 

He blinked down at you like he had been in a haze, eyes momentarily darting back to the ring. “Right now?”

You nodded, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“A diet cola with no ice, please.”

You mustered up your cutest expression as he begrudgingly nodded and got up, pushing his way past the other patrons before making a mad dash to the concession counter. Your grin had turned malicious within moments as you returned to watching the match.

He was back within a minute or two, handing you your drink as you thanked him and recounted some of the tense final moments as you sipped your drink once, twice.

It was the true final match of the night now, and you had your diet cola in your hand. You elbowed his side.

“Haru, this isn’t diet.”

His head snapped in your direction. “What?”

“This isn’t diet, Haru please I’m so thirsty!”

He did his best to hide it but you could see the frustration crease his brow as he took your cup and disappeared again.

The match was over by the time he made it back, your drink in his hands as you thanked him profusely, snuggling up at his side as you walked out.

The crowd filtered out across the street as you emerged from the underground, tossing your cup with a practiced hand into the wastebasket. 

“Are you busy tomorrow, we could watch a movie or something?” He offered in an attempt to salvage the mood.

You squeezed his arm a little tighter, turning your head to peer up at him. “Sounds like a date, I’ll see you then.”

Day Three - Be Clingy

When you met up in front of Gravity Cinema in Lumina Square he had some notion of what you would be watching. Plenty of new movies had hit the box office recently, enough variety that he was sure you could find something agreeable and not painful to sit through. 

You looked happy as you stood beside him in the line, eyes dancing across the titles by the ticket booth. There were plenty of good options, things you wanted to see on your own that you were sure he would find entertaining like a new comedy that brought tears to your eyes just seeing the trailer on tv. 

“What do you wanna see?” He asked, bumping your shoulder fondly. 

“Hmm,” you tapped a thoughtful finger to your chin. “I want to see…that one.”

A rerun of Coffee Mate wasn’t what he was expecting, but you looked quite pleased with the situation as you enjoyed your popcorn beside him. The theater was full of couples or groups of friends enjoying the nostalgia of the rom-com, all engrossed in the film. He wouldn’t lie, his own interest was also growing.

You looked over at him, the warm tones of the movie screen casting a sepia glow over his cheeks. You might be a little disappointed by the end of your little escapade, he was one of the more handsome men you had dated. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He looked over at you.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The movie?” His confusion was evident in his tone as his eyes darted from the screen back to your face. 

“So you’re just completely thoughtless?”

A man in the row behind you shushed you loudly, shooting you both a glare yet you didn’t relent. 

Harumasa looked rather taken aback. “No, sorry baby, I was just thinking about…how pretty you are, now hush and let’s just watch the movie. You said you loved this one, right?”

You sat your popcorn down, brows furrowing as you turned in your seat to face him. 

“Who is she?”

“Who’s who?”

“First you’re thoughtless, now you’re an owl? I said who is she? You’re obviously not thinking about me right now.” 

The man behind you kicked your seat as he hushed you again, and you turned to face him, a wrathful look on your face.

“Listen buddy, if you interrupt me one more time my boyfriend is going to beat your ass.” 

He looked from you to Harumasa, the latter’s face decorated with a nervous smile as he quickly assessed that it was in fact a fight he didn’t want to have any part in.

“Let’s go then.”

You grabbed at Harumasa’s arm as you followed him out of the theater. “Haru, baby don’t fight him.” You pleaded. 

“I don’t have any intention of fighting him, this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

But misunderstandings usually didn’t end with a kiss from another person’s knuckles being planted firmly against your nose. He stumbled back, hand cupping his nose as blood began to pour from between his fingers and down his chin.

The man pointed harshly at the both of you as you rushed to Harumasa’s side. 

“Nobody gets between me and Coffee Mate!”

 

He was strangely impassioned as he stormed back into the theater, leaving you alone as your hands cupped Harumasa’s face.

“Let me see,” you cooed sweetly as you pried his fingers away from his nose. His eyes were watering from the sting of the hit, blood smearing down his face and dripping onto his shirt in crimson blossoms. 

You fished through your bag for a moment before you produced a few tissues, cursing internally that your pack was almost empty and that your luck was rotten enough to have seated you in front of someone willing to take a swing in passion over a romcom rerun movie. 

It was bleeding more from one side than it was the other, a rivulet of thick blood streaming almost instantaneously after you wipe his upper lip clean. You apologized about a hundred times as you pulled a tampon from your purse, unwrapping it before shoving the cotton up his nose as he grimaced. 

“What the hell is this?” He questioned, the taste of iron washing down the back of his throat as his fingers grasped the little woven tail on the tampon to bring it to eye level.

“Don’t worry about it,” you grabbed his hands, ignoring the blood that smeared onto your own. 

“You were so brave standing up to that guy!” 

He blinked at you stupidly.

Day Four - Become his Manic Pixie Dream

His apartment was rather nice when the lights were on, surprisingly clean if the precise organization of his shoe rack by the door would be any indicator of the rest of his space.

He was busy in the kitchen, talking to you mindlessly as he worked. All the better for your cause, giddily kicking off your low heels as you perused the apartment. It felt like a man’s apartment, a little dark and sparse as far as decor went, and it smelled distinctly like herbs and anesthetic more akin to what you would expect of a pharmacy or apothecary than a home. 

His cat chirped pleasantly from where it lay stretched across the couch, rising to arch its spine into your touch as you stroked its black fur.

“Don’t tell your dad that I’m redecorating,” you whispered as you sat down the box propped against your hip and produced a pair of stuffed animal cats stitched to be embracing.

The white fur on the toys reminded you a bit of Officer MewMew, but you found them endearing nonetheless, patting them on the head and you continued on your trek of evil. More cheesy stuffed animals, a flowery pink quilt across his bed, an array of girly magazines on the back of his toilet to match the pink toilet seat cover you placed.

By the time you returned from your side quest he was waiting for you by the table, eyeing the new creatures that sat on his couch curiously. 

“Looks like you’ve been…redecorating.” 

You smiled at him sweetly, “I just thought you could use a woman’s touch in here, isn’t it cute?” You reached into the box you still carried, dropping it to the side as you produced one last trick form your theoretical hat. A little fern in a pink pot bounced merrily in your hand. 

“It’s a baby fern to mark the budding growth of our relationship! Just like us it will need lots of tender love and care to thrive.”

You placed it dead center on the table.

“And now you will have something to remind you of us all the time.”

Ugh, it made you want to hurl how silly and empty headed you had to act, but it was all for the glory of the hunt you reminded yourself. You had put up with some real bullshit in the past and still been hung out to dry, this was just a little payback inflicted upon a member of mankind.

He smiled and graciously accepted, but you could see the concern swimming in the hues of honey in his eyes as he pulled your chair out for you to sit. 

“Yup, I’m a lucky guy for sure.”

He was ready to let it pass, the archery finals were about to start any minute and dinner was ready. Sure your change in attitude was a little…unique, but maybe you were just having an off night.

You sniffled and he paused, practically covering over his seat as he looked up at you. You sniffled again, fanning at your eyes.

“What’s wrong, (y/n)?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s perfect just—,”

“Just..?”

You blew your nose dramatically into your napkin as you turned your head away, voice warbling with tears. “I don’t eat meat.”

It was like being hit by a truck, his eyes bouncing between the precisely crafted chicken dish on your plate to your quivering shoulders and reddened eyes. 

“A full week off, no questions asked. A full week off, no questions asked.” It was a mantra running through his head on repeat as he sat beside you in a tiny booth at the nearest vegan restaurant to his apartment.

He didn’t mind it he guessed, though as he picked through the tofu bowl sitting in front of him he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at the thought of the chicken now chilling in his fridge.

You seemed appeased though, your knee brushing against his under the table as you picked your own meal quietly. The waitress stopped by the table, topping off your glass of water.

“Something wrong with your meal, hon?” She asked, eyeing you curiously.

“No, no.” You answered quietly before he watched your face contort, your pitch rising into a sobbing tone as you threw your fork down.

“My boyfriend thinks I’m fat! And I can’t eat in front of him.”

“What!?” He said incredulously as you shot up from your seat, hands covering your face as you rushed into the bathroom at the back of the restaurant.

You locked yourself in a stall, wiping away your fake tears as you pulled up the stream of the archery finals for the night. Ah, what a disappointing loss for your favored archer, but you were sure that he was still having a better time than what your date was having as he sat in the dining room now, certainly insisting that he has never called you fat a day in your life.

The walk back from the restaurant was quiet. He seemed tired even as you followed him back into his apartment and flopped down onto his couch. The archery finals for the night blazed to life across his TV screen.

“I’m sorry we missed the finals tonight.” You apologized with your sweetest tone.

He sighed. “It’s okay, baby, let’s just see what happens.”

You scooted closer to him on the couch, a hand coming down to squeeze his thigh. He looked at you with a surprised expression, eyes widening behind dark lashes as you flipped yourself onto his lap. You loosened his tie as you popped the buttons on his shirt open down to his belt, nails trailing down the expanse of his stomach as he shuddered. 

You kissed him, and he keened into your lips, hand coming to knot into your hair as you tugged his bottom lip between your teeth. You wiggled your hips against his lap, savoring the way his hand flexed against the meat of your thigh.

“What’s wrong, is somebody a wittle pent up?”

The baby talk took him by surprise, not really something he found to be attractive but if you were gonna shove your tongue into his mouth the way you just did and pull his hair well—some things could be overlooked in favor of others.

You broke from his lips, kissing down the side of his neck and to his clavicle, teeth nipping at his pale and tender skin. You were a vixen in your own right as you slid from his lap to your knees, a trail of kisses pressed from his sternum to his belt where your fingers deftly pulled the buckle loose. 

“Poor wittle Haru~,” you cooed as you rested your cheek against his thigh and stared up at him from under your lashes, toying with his zipper. His body tensed as you palmed him through his pants, his hand curling into your hair as his breathing became labored. 

“Does our little pwincess wanna come out and play~?”

You blinked in surprise at how quickly you were on your feet, his hands bracing your arms. His cheeks were dusted a hearty pink, the flush carried to his ears and the heady way his eyes dilated. He swallowed thickly.

“Please don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side dumbly. “Do what?”

You could practically see the internal war raging in his mind as he let out a shaky breath. There was no reasonable way he could explain it and not sound fucking insane.

“Please do not name my, uh,” he cleared his throat as he broke eye contact, “unmentionables.”

On the inside you were dying with laughter, struggling to keep your face straight as he fumbled around. So you pouted instead.

“Are you mad at me?”

His head hung in defeat. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

He was scrambling for an out, lost somewhere between hot and bothered and terribly disturbed by the tragic way events unfolded.

 “Ohh would you look at the time,” he said glancing momentarily at the watch that wasn’t on his wrist before quickly snapping his hand back to his side. “You should really head home for the night, can’t have you wandering the streets too late. Someone might try to snatch you up or something.”

Was it bad that he momentarily thought it might not be all bad if you got kidnapped? They would definitely return you within an hour, just long enough for the casual and flirty you to vanish like a werewolf morphing under the moonlight into whatever you were now. 

“I guess so…” your tone was mournful as he ushered you to the door and made sure you had all of your belongings. 

You stood in the hallway outside his door, he still looked like a flushed mess as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Goodnight then, Haru.”

“Goodnight, (y/n). Get home safely.”

Day Five - Make Him Your “Cool Boy”

He desperately wanted to call it quits, throw in the towel and run away from you as fast as his legs could carry him. Did you have a split personality or did you just fall and hit your head and not receive medical attention sometime after you two first met? It was a toss up in his mind, but every day that he walked back into the office and saw the smirking expression of Tsukishiro as she asked, “How’s your girlfriend?” his pride would rear its ugly head and will him to continue. 

It hadn’t even been a full week, he could handle a few more days. Then he made the mistake of answering his phone. 

“Goodmorning Haru-waru~.”

Jesus Christ, maybe he was wrong. He was pretty sure his eyes rolled into the back of his skull as he pinched the bridge of his nose that was still bandaged from the movie date. You on the other hand had to mute your end of the call for the roar of laughter that came from Zhu Yuan who sat in your office listening in to your psychological torture fest. 

He met Tsukishiro’s eye from across the room, a forced smile coming to his face as he waved and stood up to take his call in the hallway. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” It sounded forced and he had to bite his tongue to make his tone sound more pleasant. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, I was just thinking about you and how I got these tickets from a friend.” You baited, the tickets pinched between your fingers tapping against the smooth top of your desk. “The seats aren’t as good as the ones from the other night, but I thought you might wanna join me?”

He was torn, but relented, praying he wasn’t making a horrible mistake. 

“What time?”

You were beaming as you waved at him. You were like a toxic fume disguised a breath of fresh air, hair and makeup done cutely. For a moment he willed himself to think the original you was back from the coy way you spoke, how you curled a lock of your hair around your finger as you walked arm-in-arm.

His reminder of your wicked nature came five minutes into the Astra Yao concert he now stood in the middle of, the base from the speakers rattling his bones as the crowd roared alongside the music.

You looked thrilled, bouncing beside him as you sang along to every song. It really was a treat for you to get to see her after all, and you wouldn’t disclose how much you spent to secure your tickets but it didn’t matter. 

You were radiant under the purple and white stadium lights, your lip gloss shining as it caught the light. Your eyes were closed behind the ridiculous purple heart-shaped sunglasses some other girl in the crowd had handed you, an invisible microphone in your hand as you lived like no one was watching for just a moment. Maybe you seemed crazy, but did that really matter? He wouldn’t be hanging around much longer anyways. You could see the threads of his sanity snapping away with each passing day.

But today he was quiet as he watched you with a reverence your eyes wouldn’t see, the concert nothing shy of background noise compared to the beating of his heart in his ears and the slightly off-key sound of your voice as you sang and grew more hoarse by the minute. It was like wearing a pair of rose colored glasses, your previous infractions melting out of his mind as a glimpse of the real you shined through.

His ears were ringing as he followed you out of the venue at the end of the concert, a ridiculously glittery Astra Yao t-shirt now layered over his original shirt to match the one you donned. Your palm was warm clasped in his own as you pulled him through the crowd. 

He forgot all about the archery finals till the patrons filtered out of the Reverb Arena onto the shared street, excitedly chattering about the winning shot.

Your head whipped over your shoulder as you smiled at him, sunglasses now perched on your head. “Wasn’t that fun?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer before you cut him off.

“Let’s make sure to play some of her songs at our wedding!”

And just like that those rose colored glasses shattered with frightening speed.

Day Six - Sabotage His Reputation at Work

His mind was a muddled mess as he sat listlessly at his desk the next day. Your unpredictability had not only shaken him to the core but disturbed him so deeply he was now in a constant state of unsteadiness, torn between wanting to chase that sliver of you that made his heart race and wanting to run from the other part that made him want to tear out his hair in frustration. 

He pondered texting you, calling you even, but he didn’t know why. He sighed loudly, throwing his phone onto his desk as his head flopped over the back of his chair.

“Everything alright, Asaba?”

He glanced up at Yanagi, a cup of coffee waving temptingly in her hand as she placed it on his desk. “You look tired.”

“You have no idea.” He thanked her for the coffee, pulling the lid off as he took a sip. It was hot and bitter against his tongue, a soothing taste sure to inspire a short burst of vitality to his morning.

He didn’t bother to glance up as the door to the Section 6 suite hissed open.

“Goodmorning, Haru~.”

He sputtered and choked as he sucked coffee down his windpipe, quickly putting the cup down as he practically jumped from his seat. 

“(y/n)!” He chimed back in a poor attempt to match your excitement as he hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here?”

It was a shame you looked as cute as you did today, a perfect black plaid patterned skirt suit hugging your body just right as you practically bounced to his desk, pushing a stack of papers to the side as you perched on his desk with a smile.

“I just wanted to see you, silly!” 

Oh. How lucky. 

Everyone in the office was fully tuned into your conversation now, some (ahem, Soukaku and Miyabi) more obviously than others. 

“I brought you a present by the way.” You reached into the large tote bag that you had brought along with you, producing a black plaid shirt that matched your own outfit. 

“Here! Put it on!”

There was no getting out of it, you had practically dragged him closer as you tossed the shirt over his shoulders and forcefully helped him drag his arms through the sleeves as you buttoned it all the way up to his neck.

“My, Asaba, you’re certainly a vision in plaid.”

He glared at Tsukishiro over your shoulder, his eyes rolling fiercely at her jab before you drew his attention back to yourself. 

“We are gonna make such a cute family of four.” You squealed.

“Family of four?”

You nodded as you reached into your bag once more, drawing out the long orange body of a medium haired cat in a little black plaid vest. A golden tag dangled off its collar, its name carved into the metal in a curling script.

Princess.

He felt his stomach drop. 

“I got one for the other cat too so we can all match for family photos!”

“Family photos!” Soukaku squealed from her desk. 

He gripped your shoulders with a forced smile. “Can we talk outside? It would be bad if we interrupted office workflow after all.” 

“Oh, no need, I’ve gotta run back to work. Duty calls!” You giggled as you placed Princess in his arms, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, your lipstick staining his cheek a pretty shade of rose. 

“Watch our baby girl for me! Toodles!”

You pranced out of the office with a giggle, the door sliding shut behind you before it quickly reopened.

“Hold on, (y/n)!” 

You paused in your step, glancing at his disheveled state with the warmest smile you could muster. 

“Yes, Haru?”

“I won’t be able to hang out tomorrow afternoon,” he said, Princess struggling in his arms for a moment as he readjusted his grip on her. “Some of my old friends from PubSec wanted to get together and have a game night, you don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not!” You said with a smile. “You boys have fun.”

He looked relieved as you turned away to leave, flipping your hair over your shoulder. The stupid smile on your face faded so quickly you felt like a true psychopath for a fleeting moment. 

Day Seven - Become the Psycho Girlfriend of his Nightmares

“I don’t know what this guy’s problem is,” you bemoaned, popping another cheeseball into your mouth. 

The roof of your apartment building was a pleasant place to be on a day off, lounging on the deck chairs as the sun warmed your skin.

Zhu Yuan laid beside you in her own chair, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses as she shrugged. “Maybe he’s a little mental?”

“There is no history of mental health conditions in his medical file.” Chimed Qingyi from your other side where she sat crossed legged. 

You frowned. “No need to violate HIPAA for the sake of this conversation, Qingyi.” 

She shrugged.

“But seriously, I’m not making things even remotely easy and he still hasn’t called it quits. I’ve been clingy, ruined the archery finals multiple times, accused him of calling me fat in public, been overly emotional. Damn, he even got his nose busted over a date with me.” You huffed irritably, crunching another cheeseball between your teeth.

“I just don’t get it, what else am I supposed to do?”

“When do you see him again?” Zhu Yuan asked, her head rolling in your direction as she held out a hand. You shook a few cheeseballs into her waiting palm.

“Tomorrow.”

“Not tonight?”

You shook your head. “No, he’s got a boy’s night planned.”

Zhu Yuan practically launched herself upward, flipping her glasses onto her head. “Boy’s night, surely you don’t intend to let him off that easy.”

You pursed your lips before a wicked smile morphed onto your face. “You’re right, what would he be without me?”

There were eighteen missed calls on his answering machine when he returned home, four playing through as he fed the cats that rubbed incessantly against his legs begging for his attention. It was fortunate that Princess had an agreeable nature, it would have been a shame to rehome her if she had clashed with his own cat.

“Haru, are you home?”

“I miss you~”

“Pick up the phone, Haru!”

“I just wanna know how your day was my handsome boy~”

He paused the message playback as a knock sounded at his door. Seemed like the first of his guests had arrived, a perfect excuse to forget your incessant tone.

Everything seemed to be going quite well, conversation flowing easily over the passing of cards and bets placed in poor, alcohol-addled states of mind. He refrained once more, sipping on another bitter seltzer as he fanned out his cards. A good hand, he was feeling lucky.

Or he did before his front door swung open. 

“Hi boys!” You chirped. 

He folded his hand immediately, an expression of fear flashing through his eyes as he gritted his teeth. You waltzed right in, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Heyy, (y/n). I thought we weren’t seeing each other tonight—,”

“Oh, we weren’t, but then I was just thinking you might need some snacks for game night!”

You practically stared daggers into the befuddled faces of some of your very own N.E.P.S officers that sat around the table. They will definitely think you are a nutcase after tonight, but internal PR was a small price to pay.

You pranced to the kitchen, your tone cheery as you babytalked to the cats that prowled after you. You could hear the muted conversation from the kitchen where you fished through his cabinets for a plate and serving utensils.

“She’s something alright.” 

“If something means psycho then…”

“Easy now, she’s not that bad.” You were surprised to hear him defending you, albeit poorly.

“C’mon man, don’t kid yourself.”

You came out of the kitchen just in time to see Harumasa’s shoulders sag as he nodded, hands rising to rub his face.

“She might be a little…”

“A little what?” You hissed from where you stood, plate of cookies in your hand. You looked like a disgruntled housewife, the kind that poisons her husband and buries him beneath the roses in the backyard.

“Asaba Harumasa,” your tone sent shivers down his spine, venom dripping from your tongue as you stared him down, slowly approaching the table like a predatory cat. 

“It’s okay sweetie, you can tell me. Go ahead, say you think I’m some kind of psycho bitch!” Your pitch rose to a yell as you flipped the plate in your hand for good measure, cookies scattering everywhere as each man at the table recoiled. 

The waterworks came next as the plate clattered to the floor, your hands rising to hide your face as you willed tears to your eyes. 

“I have tried so hard to be a good, attentive girlfriend but you just think I’m crazy.” You sobbed, catching a glimpse of the silly fern in the pink pot you had left in his care days ago. Its leaves were wilted.

“Did you ever want this relationship to work?” You accused, angrily wiping your ‘tears’ as you pointed at the plant. “You even let our love fern die, how can I trust you to take this relationship seriously?”

He was stirred into a panic now, rising from his seat. “It was an accident, I got busy with work and forgot to water it is all.”

“I told you a relationship takes tender love and care. Care does not mean forgetting to water it!” 

You wiped your tears and stifled your sniffles, raising your head proudly. “Consider us, over.”

You stormed out the door and down the hall, and as soon as the elevator shut behind you you laughed like a maniac. Oh the sweet taste of release. You deserved an award for your performance.

Meanwhile he stood in the carnage of your departure, mentally counting the days in his head. Seven. He was still several days shy of his bet with Tsukishiro.

“Lucky, she saw herself out, wait—you’re not thinking of stopping her, right?”

“I just need three more days,” he whipped around as he grabbed his friend by the shoulders, “what do girls like to hear at times like this?”

You felt liberated as you stepped onto the street. Finally you had shaken yourself free of the burden you had placed upon yourself. There was almost a skip in your step as you turned to walk home.

“(Y/n), wait!”

Your stomach plummeted. You didn’t even want to turn around, didn’t intend to until his hand circled your wrist with a gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, I would do anything to make it up to you.” 

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head, wrenching your wrist free. “It’s too late for that, Asaba.”

Ouch, back to last name basis. This was worse than he thought.

“Why don’t we go to couple’s therapy?” 

The very words felt bitter on his tongue, quietly instilling both of you with profound dread.

You turned over your shoulder, voice teary. “You would do that for me?”

He nodded.

Shit. Guess both of you were still stuck. 

Day Eight - Couples Therapy

His stomach felt sick all night and he couldn’t sleep, a shared sentiment occurring in your own bed several streets away as you tossed and turned. 

He’s unshakeable, and you needed to find an out. 

That’s why you stood in front of a sterile door in your well pressed skirt suit, Harumasa anxiously stirring at your side. “Thank you for suggesting this,” you murmured as you knocked on the door. “It makes me feel like you actually care.”

The door opened as you bit your tongue to suppress the grin that threatened to crease your cheeks. 

Qingyi stood in the doorway, a pair of comically large glasses perched on her nose and her hair pulled tightly back. She looked more like some sort of cult member than a therapist with the unique oversized smock she wore. 

Harumasa’s brow furrowed. “Are you the doctor..?”

Qingyi nodded, “Yes, now come in, we have a lot to discuss.”

The conversation devolved rapidly once you actually sat down. You poured out a dramatized version of the truth, tears streaming down your cheeks as your mascara smeared. He was lost somewhere between fighting for his life defending his actions and trying to comfort you. 

Qingyi was playing her role beautifully, hell she even opened the door for you to accuse him of trying to flirt with her before she turned up the heat and began to put pressure on him.

“He’s just so distant, he won’t even tell me about the things he likes!” You cried, blowing your nose dramatically into another one of half the tissue box you had already gone through.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll take you out and show you. Just please stop crying.”

Your tears dried immediately, casting a glance at Qingyi who simply nodded.

“A couples weekend to grow closer, I think it’s an excellent idea.”

You cursed her a little internally as you walked out the door. 

Day Nine - Doing Things He Enjoys..?

The scent of seawater met your nose as you stepped out of the car, the wind off the ocean tugging at your meticulously fixed hair as you watched the boats at the dock bob over the waves.

When he told you he would take you to do things he enjoyed you weren’t anticipating to end up here, but there was a palpable shift in his attitude as he pulled the camera from the backseat and raised it to peer through the viewfinder, the shutter clicking loudly as he took a picture of the sun rising over the distant horizon.

The tiny smile on his lips painted his features with a serene expression, the sun painting his cheeks in a shade of gold that could rival the saturation of his eyes as the sea breeze ruffled his already unruly hair.

You watched him silently. It felt like an intrusion for you to be standing here with him, a feeling that never left even as he turned his warm expression in your direction, beckoning you to follow him as he walked towards the dock.

You half expected him to walk down the actual dock, not for him to pause at the edge of the railing to kick his shoes off before climbing over it in favor of the thin band of sand lining the rocky outcropping that the lighthouse sat upon.

“Don’t wanna get your shoes wet,” he stated simply as he offered you a hand over the rail to follow him. 

The water lapped past the rocks and onto the sand, the gritty substance soft and soggy under your bare feet as you picked along the nondescript beach until it turned into a bank of slippery black rocks.

You paused just shy of the terminus of the rocks, watching him look thoughtfully over the water as he raised his camera again. 

You wondered what went through his mind. Photography was never your strong suit, you lacked a discerning eye for beauty like that captured in a still life. Your eyes danced over the waterline, willing yourself to see some deeper artistic vision like whatever had caught his fancy.

The camera shuttered again, and you turned to look at him only to be met with the shiny black lens of his camera as he brought it down from his eye. 

“I like that one.” He mused, clicking back through the saved photos as he turned the screen to show you the pensive image of yourself, hair wild in the wind, face bathed in gold contrasting the harsh black of the rocky bank you stood on. He turned it back to himself, dropping the camera to hang around his neck. 

“It looks like you.”

For a moment it crossed your mind that he had found you out, exposing some chink in your carefully fabricated armor to protect your heart in the little game you had subjected him to. You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze.

“Of course it looks like me.” You muttered as if it was an obvious observation. 

You stayed at the Port till the afternoon sun blazed high overhead, your skin sandy and fingertips greasy from the basket of fries you shared with him as you dangled your feet off the edge of the dock. You had long given up on your looks, the wind from the top of the lighthouse where he took you having ruffled your hair in a way so attractive that you thought it safer to knot it upon your head with a hair tie than let it hang free a moment longer.

When he told you he had another place to take you afterwards it took you by surprise. Had he actually taken that ridiculous therapy session seriously? Ah, you were starting to feel guilty again.

The cityscape gave way to a lush road lined with trees before you pulled over again in a gravel parking lot. It was largely empty, the chirping of crickets meeting your ears as the trees rustled in the gentle wind. A rusted sign stood by the road announcing it as a shooting range. 

“You ever shot a bow?” He called to you. 

“Can’t say I have.” 

You heard the car door shut, eyes catching on the longbow resting in his hand as he walked to your side, looking down at you with a grin that actually met his eyes. 

“Well, do you want to?”

The target stood a reasonable way down the green from where you stood. His weapon of choice felt heavier in your hands than you expected, the grips worn and a variety of scuffs decorating the metallic surface. You had watched plenty of archery matches, but actually doing it was a little more daunting than you imagined, less “pull and shoot” than you were expecting. 

“You okay over there?” He asked from the sidelines. You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back. No pressure.

You nodded as you lifted the bow, arrow already nocked as you drew back the string. You could feel the flexure of your muscles all the way to your shoulders, a quiver rattling through your forearm at the strain. You didn’t know how many pounds it was, but it was enough that your lack of practice with such an instrument showed rather evidently. You were ready to drop your aim before his hands steadied your grip, circling you from either side.

You turned your head slightly, bumping into his chest before you felt your heart race, his arms warm where they brushed your own. 

“You’re almost there.” He hummed in your ear, fingers hooking just above yours on the string. The weight suddenly vanished as he easily drew the string taut, his other hand anchoring it still.

“Now just look down the sight and aim where you please.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding as you followed his instructions, the colorful rings of the target appearing under your gaze as you gently redirected the position of the arrow.

“Just say the word.” He added, watching the concentrated look on your face with a fond look. 

“Now.” You breathed, fingers releasing from the bowstring in tandem with his own as the arrow whistled down the green. 

“That’ll be a two.” He observed aloud, the orange tail of the practice arrow you shot seated just shy of the black margin line. His free hand subconsciously rested against your arm, thumb brushing your skin.

“Not bad for a beginner?” You asked hopefully as you peered up at him.

“Not bad at all.”

You spent the rest of the day at the range, the sun sinking below the horizon line as you drove back into the city. Some part of you was disappointed to see the day end, it had been a breath of fresh air to experience an easy day alongside him. 

You would hate to admit that when he put the car in park as asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him that you were actually excited.

It was against everything you had promised to yourself and Zhu Yuan when you accepted her challenge, but the taste of your strawberry soda was sweeter against your tongue when you sat under the lowlight of the playground by the water, legs dangling off the side of a broken down one-Denny ride with him perched at your side. 

“Thanks for joining me,” he murmured as he pressed his own bottle to his lips. 

“And thank you for letting me tag along today,” came your reply, buttery smooth as you mimicked his actions. “It was…nice.”

You actually meant it, a warm feeling bubbling in your gut as the admission met the wind. 

“It was nice being around you, the real you, for the day.” He picked at the label on his drink as you stared at him owlishly. “Don’t act so surprised, it’s not hard to realize you’ve been masking a lot of things once you open up. You're a little too honest when you aren’t faking it.” 

You opened your mouth to retort but he beat you to it.

“You’re cuter when you aren’t pretending to be someone else.”

Your head hung a bit lower as you downed the last sip of your drink, discarding the bottle by your feet as if it were liquid courage and not a sweet, syrupy concoction. 

“Do you really mean it?” You asked weakly, shivering as you felt his warm fingertips graze your skin as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear. His fingertips trailed down the curve of your ear to your jawline, drawing your chin up to face him.

He was closer than you thought he was, his thumb brushing your lower lip, breath warm as it fanned your cheeks. He didn’t answer you directly as he leaned into your lips, hands warm as they cupped your cheeks tenderly.

You were sure you would melt into a puddle, filtering through his fingers like the pile of rotten mush you were  for how poorly you had treated him in the last few days. Surely you didn’t deserve the tender way he kissed you, the breathy sigh that parted your lips dousing his own in the strawberry-tinted taste of your surrender as you kissed him back with the same gentleness he offered you. 

For him to claim a dislike for sweet things his kiss was anything but bitter in your mind, while his own simply pondered the fact that syrupy sweet had never been more tolerable than when it dripped off your lips and teased his tongue.

You were regretful when you parted, lips still tingling as you caught your breath. 

“I should take you home.” He whispered into the air between you.

The ride to your place was silent, but you didn’t regret what transpired at the park as you chewed your lip thoughtfully. 

You still didn’t have any regrets when you hesitated to get out, inviting him upstairs with a spark of hope burning inside your chest that you wished he would douse once and for all by denying your request. 

You didn’t regret holding his hand as you guided him to your bathroom, when you let him slide your t-shirt over your head as you helped him out of his own, when you kissed him like you meant it as you backed him into the warm spray of your shower, the tickling scent of sweat and seawater intensified before it washed away under the hardwater. 

You wouldn’t regret a single moment of letting him ravish you with an affection you’d never experienced, one laced with longing and appreciation for each inch of your body that passed under calloused fingertips, one that surpassed anything spoken that could be retracted with a breath.

You would only regret any creeping memory of the distressed looks you had cast onto his gentle features in the past, painting over them with a glaze of the love and pleasure stricken expressions that pinched his brow as you indulged in each other at the most carnal of levels. Whispers of adoration pressed to your skin that made your toes curl and made the sickly knot of pleasure in your gut twist all the tighter as you sought a release that only he could provide you as you drowned in the intense wave of his silent affections.  

Day Ten - Break his Heart

Every coin has a flip side, like how every story has an opposing view. Maybe he was simply your mirror in that, or that was what you willed yourself to think as you stared down the hurt that burned in his golden eyes. You were sure you looked none the better if the hot anger that surged in your veins had anything to say about it. 

This wasn’t at all how you imagined it going, but maybe you had just been lying to yourself the whole time just as he had done.

Zhu Yuan’s expression looked stricken, Tsukishiro’s cool if not a little surprised as she shook her head.

“Pardon the interruption.” The pink haired deputy Chief said as she swiftly dismissed herself from the scene, Zhu Yuan shuffling away in a similar apologetic fashion. 

You wished your own feet would carry you far away from here, to turn tail and run like the coward you were when it came to confrontations you couldn’t control. If you ran would it change anything? Would it soothe the ache of guilt and the harsh throb of heartbreak? You knew the answer to that well enough as your fingers tightened around your purse strap, convincing yourself that their accidental revelation was for the better despite the despicable feeling that welled up in your chest. 

“So.”

“So.” He parroted with a similarly bitter tone, lips drawn into a thin line. 

“Was it worth it?” 

He scoffed. “You’re gonna ask me that? Last time I checked intentionally being insane as a dig back at mankind as a whole is a little worse than a stupid deal for some time off.”

Your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down even if his words rang soundly in your ears. “But that was the point wasn’t it? You were no more innocent than every other asshole who strung me along and ditched me like an old toy when something better came along.” You seethed. 

“Coming after me for the sake of a bet with a timeline like that proves it enough for me. So let’s just cut the crap and get this over with.”

Your expression was icy as you met his eyes, steeling yourself. 

“It meant nothing to me, and I never want to see you again.”

Something crumpled in his chest, but he didn’t show it, simply nodding. “Fine. Do us both a favor and lose my number.” 

And nine days of intimate torment died on the gritty sidewalk like a tortured animal, both of you turning away without looking back.

You would save yourself the dignity to do so later in the silence of your own home, to let the guilt of your actions bubble over the waterline of your lashes as your heart broke all over again in the same foolish way you swore not to allow this time as quiet pleas for his forgiveness pressed past your lips.

You wouldn’t know of the numb way he sat on his couch when he finally arrived home, the lithe body of Princess rubbing against his shin as the feline begged for an affection he couldn’t muster.

There was a meticulously crafted wall around his heart, or there had been before you managed to breach it, one placed with the intent to deflect anything meaningful so he wouldn’t have to die with any regrets should his state of being decline rapidly. With it now in tatters his chest felt heavier than ever as he curled into himself, face buried into his hands as he forced himself to breath deeply and will away any thought of the softness of your touch or how treacherously you had warmed his heart in the exact way he had tried to prevent each time he felt a relationship teetering near anything past a casually physical state.

Day Eleven

Work felt like a chore, your eyes dry, tired and puffy as you stared blankly at your computer screen. Anything laborious would have to take a backburner this time, as your brain was still too addled from crying yourself to sleep like a real slob to handle anything too intensive when it came to thought. 

Sure others had noticed, but they didn’t ask questions, opting to give you space instead of intruding upon your foul mood. It left your day rather silent, a breeding ground for getting lost in your own thoughts which was exactly what you didn't want right now.

Your secretary shuffled into the room hesitantly. 

“Commander, you have a visitor.”

“Tell them to come back another day.” You replied flatly, clicking aimlessly on your screen.

“I did but it’s an officer from the HSO. Says it’s urgent.” 

Your stomach flipped unpleasantly. You had a crawling notion of who it might be.

“Let them in.” 

The secretary nodded, disappearing from your sight before your guest entered silently.

“Commander.” 

“What business do you have here, Asaba?” Your tone was icy and sharp, not bothering to look in his direction as you busied yourself with the same menial task that had plagued you for the past hour.

“Not looking at me is a new low, even for you.” 

You frowned, shooting a glare in his direction as you turned to face him fully. He looked messy, but when did he not? Eyebags weren’t even unfamiliar for him, but the spiderwebs of tired veins that snakes across his sclera were even if you were sitting too far to see the bloodshot nature.

“If it isn’t urgent then we have no business to discuss, and you need to leave.”

“It is important,” he interjected as he pulled something from his pocket, a thin photo that he flipped in your direction.

It was the picture of you that he took at Port Elpis.

“I’m calling you on your shit,” he declared firmly as he approached your desk, dropping the picture right in front of you as he planted his palms on the flat surface, staring you down.

“False pretenses or not, the past ten days weren’t meaningless to you.” He pressed, eyes not wavering from where they locked with your own. “I refuse to believe it’s left you unaffected, because I’ve been sick over you every hour since then.”

A shaky breath sucked between his teeth, his eyes darting to your lips that quivered despite your best efforts. 

“I just don’t think it’s possible that you’ve charmed me as one-sidedly as you’re trying to let on.”

You couldn’t escape his gaze if you wanted to, as staring down at your neatly folded hands only brought the hazy gold kissed image of you by the ocean he had taken, a picture taken under the same eye you had admired for its ability to scrutinize and capture beauty in its most raw and unfiltered state. A lens that had snatched your moment of contemplation in a clutch of unabashed appreciation, a diamond picked from the rough of days of undue torture.

So you didn’t run from it anymore, turning your chin up from where it had sunk as you met his gaze head on, a rueful smile gracing your lips.

“Am I that bad of a liar?”

His mouth felt dry, heart racing in his ears as he studied your resigned expression. You looked serene as your gaze cast back down to your fingers, toying with your cuticles. 

“You made me break my one rule for my little experiment. Don’t fall in love.” Your tone was still laced in bitterness, a hand raising to dab at the corner of your eyes at the admission. 

“I assure you, I’ll be slower to forgive myself for hurting you than you would be. You’re a good person, Asaba. You deserve only the best the world has to offer you, and I’m sorry that couldn’t be me.” Your eyes were the clearest he had ever seen as you looked up at him, a warmth still radiating from the depths of your irises as you smiled sadly. 

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was hushed and gentle like the finger that brushed your cheek, a stray tear smearing across your cheek. “I don’t want you to be distant anymore, I think we are past that now.”

Your lips pursed as you drew a shaky breath, the warmth of his hand still lingering on your skin. “Haru, I am so sorry for hurting you.”

His apology came whispered against your skin as he cupped your cheeks in his palms, warm kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose before his forehead came to rest against your own.

“I’ll beg for your forgiveness too,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I don’t think I can let you go that easily.”

A silence fell between you cut only by the soft sounds of your mingled breathing, his skin still warm against your own as you leaned fully into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed a kiss to the side of his fingers. 

“Then let’s start fresh.” You offered. “Single?”

A toothy smile cracked his lips, his pointed canines as pronounced as ever. 

“Currently.”

“Interested?”

“Definitely.”

“Want to kiss me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Rey 2025

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

So a fucking cardiologist on Tiktok pointed out you're supposed to rate it based on your pain.

Not even necessarily what that pain scale does, but your history with pain. The pain scale pictured here is a great guideline but think about the worst pain you've ever personally felt.

And try to think about your current pain in relation to that.

So like. The worst pain you've ever felt is a 10.

For me, that's either when my L5-S1 disc re-herniated after I'd had surgery on it, or at age 10, when I stepped on a screwdriver and it went through my foot (we didn't have insurance at the time but my dad had been an Army nurse so he did at-home, non-anesthetized surgery on me. The surgery hurt but it didn't hurt worse than the initial pain so I didn't really cry or whimper much). Those were both pretty fucking bad.

You also have to try really hard not to take into account how much you may have gotten used to pain. Remember: most people exist at a 0 on a daily basis, so if you're feeling pain, it's not a zero.

My normal level of pain, based on that criteria, is a 4 on good days, a 6 on rainy/snowy/cold days, and a 9 during a serious flare-up.

Nothing quite tops the screwdriver incident, although the re-herniation was really fucking close. I recently found out that I have spinal torsion - my vertebrae in my sacral area have twisted. My physical therapist cannot tell how long it's been there, but at least since my first MRI on record, in 2016. So it makes sense for me to be in pain pretty much always, especially now that my arthritis is hurting more. I may have had this issue since birth, but he thinks it's more likely it happened when I was about 12 or 13, when I first sprained my right ankle. The incident that permanently screwed up my ankle also probably twisted the entire S1-5 area of my spine. At least, that's when I first recall having pain in that area that was sharp and spiky rather than dull.

I've been stabbed. I haven't been shot, but multiple people have told me that being shot, oddly, tends to hurt less than stabbing (depending on where it is). I've never broken a bone all the way through. But I've torn muscles and ligaments, and I've had discs blow, and I've had a screwdriver go through my foot.

But keep in mind, I'm so used to pain that at my 9, I can still drive. Not particularly well, but enough to get to a hospital. I've never lost consciousness because of pain, despite having some shit happen (see above) that my physical therapist has said should absolutely have made me faint. I have, naturally, a tolerance to pain, plus I'm in chronic pain. It's unlikely I'll ever lose consciousness from pain. That doesn't mean I haven't experienced a 10. I absolutely have. It's the screwdriver through the foot. The stabbing was maybe a 7 compared to that.

So the guide is Extremely Good for people with non-chronic pain, and somewhat useful for those in chronic pain. But don't forget that pain is relative, so you need to think about it in relative terms.

My face is having uncontrollable spasms. Great. It hurts really, really, really bad.

I think part of why I have trouble explaining pain to the doctor is when they ask about the pain scale I always think “Well, if someone threw me down a flight of stairs right now or punched me a few times, it would definitely hurt a lot more” so I end up saying a low number. I was reading an article that said that “10” is the most commonly reported number and that is baffling to me. When I woke up from surgery with an 8" incision in my body and I could hardly even speak, I was in the most horrific pain of my life but I said “6” because I thought “Well, if you hit me in the stomach, it would be worse.”

[no-144444]

famous or not- c.sainz

summary: everything falls apart?

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! actor! reader

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It wasn’t the plan for everything to fall apart, but that’s just kind of what happened… 

For the first few months, everything between you two had been great. Carlos adored you, treated you like a princess, and you did the same to him. Your relationship was full of romantic dates, cozy nights in, and various trips to races to support. 

Then, he stopped returning your calls, stopped answering your messages, and really only came to you for one thing. He was stressed, you knew it. The new season had just started and he’d been struggling to out-pace Alex, let alone get in the points. You gave him grace. You gave him time. 

That was until Miami. He’d gotten in the points. He’d out-performed Alex. He’d done it. So you went out. And half way through the night you lost him, and just stayed with the other girls instead. When you woke up, you were not expecting to see photos of your boyfriend tonguing another girl. You called him, you texted him, you did everything. 

Still, no response. 

You didn’t go to the next 3 races. You left him alone, assuming you both knew you two weren’t together anymore (especially considering the fact that you explicitly told him you two were done), and you moved on with your life. Did it hurt? Yes. Were you going to let the world know that? No. 

It all kicked up again after a damn interview on the red carpet of your new film. 

“What about your alleged boyfriend Carlos Sainz? Is he here tonight?” 

You laughed. “Oh him? We were just fucking, nothing too interesting there.” 

It was meant to be a throw-away comment. He wasn’t even meant to care. 

But then he was standing in your hallway with a hardened look on his face, and you gulped. 

“Hi,” you smiled politely. “Nice to see you again.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a premiere,” he said, his voice low, warning. 

“We’re not together,” you shrugged, putting your coat away. “I didn’t think you’d need to know.”

He scoffed. “Who says we’re not together?”

“Me,” you answered plainly. 

“You don’t just get to-”

“Oh, I do though. You didn’t respond to me for weeks, Carlos. There’s photos of you kissing other girls, and guess what, I’m not just going to be your girlfriend for the weekends and let you off because you’re an F1 driver,” you scoffed. “You can go now. We’re done.” 

“Baby, what? They don’t matter, and even if they did, I only want you. Sometimes… things happen, and we don’t mean them to,” he shrugged, trying to get closer to you, but you just walked further into your home. 

“I’m not one of the girls that let those things ‘just happen’, Carlos. If you’re with me, you’re with me. Not some random groupie, not some girl you’ve just met, me. Now, please leave.”

He grabbed your arm. “Come on, you enjoyed being my WAG so much-”

“If you’re only doing this to get Williams more popularity, I suggest you fuck off,” You cursed, grabbing your arm out of his hand.

“You’re not famous enough for that anyway,” he mumbled. 

“Oh! So now I’m not famous enough for you? Pick one, you dick,” you laughed, your blood boiling as he continued insulting you. 

“Cariño, calm down,” he said, and there was silence. Mostly because your jaw was dropped at his fucking audacity. “You must admit, I did have a hand in making you more… popular.” 

You laughed in his face. Angrily and loud. “Go fuck yourself! Oh my god, the sun actually doesn’t shine out of your arsehole, though I know James has made you believe that! I am far more famous than you are, because you’ll always just be the guy that Lewis Hamilton replaced.”

You were both quiet. You’d hit a nerve. 

“Well that’s…” he trailed off. “I’ll see myself out.”

And that was that. He never bothered you again. 

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williams & merc masterlist (omfg it's so weird to write that ew)

navigation for my blog :)

[ivyues]

Scars of the Past: Stray Kids' reactions to finding out their S/O was cheated on in the past

Bang Chan

While watching a drama together, the plot unfolds about a cheating scandal. Casually, you comment, "Ugh, I know how that feels." Chris looks over, concern immediately filling his eyes.

You smile bitterly, huffing out a small breath. "I haven’t told you I was cheated on, did I?" Chris’ face freezes for a moment before his expression softens with empathy.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice gentle, a hint of worry in his tone. When you explain, his jaw tightens, and he pulls you closer.

"I’m so sorry you went through that. You never have to doubt us, okay? I’ll make sure you never feel that way again." For the rest of the evening, he keeps you close, reassuring you with soft kisses and sweet words.

Lee Know

During a round of "Never Have I Ever" with friends, the topic of infidelity comes up. You casually admit you’ve been cheated on before. Lee Know stiffens but says nothing in front of the whole group.

Later, when you’re alone in the car, he locks eyes with you, his expression suddenly serious.

"I can’t change what happened to you, but I can promise I’ll never hurt you like that. You're too precious to me."

He gently takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, holding them tightly. It's a simple yet meaningful gesture, an unspoken promise that this moment is different.

Changbin

In the middle of a conversation about insecurities, you mention that your last partner cheated on you, and it’s the reason you sometimes struggle with trust. "They did what?" His voice rises slightly, but he catches himself, softening as he sees your discomfort.

He pulls you into a tight hug without hesitation, but there's a flicker of discomfort in the gesture, as if he's unsure whether it's the right move. He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes.

"I'm so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you," he says, his voice full of sincerity.

After a moment of silence, he hesitates before asking, "Do you... do you still talk to this person?" His tone is careful, as if he’s afraid of the answer but knows he needs to ask.

Hyunjin

Watching a romance movie together, the protagonist discovers her partner cheating. You murmur, "Yeah, that’s all way too familiar." Hyunjin immediately pauses the movie, turning to you.

"You were cheated on?" he asks, his eyes big and full of sadness. His tone carries a mixture of shock and indignation, as if the idea is almost impossible for him to grasp.

When you nod, he pulls you into a tight hug. "I can’t believe someone could betray you like that. I hope you know you’re worth so much more. I’ll remind you every day if I have to."

Han

During a late-night chat, you mention offhandedly, "Yeah, my ex cheated on me once."

Han freezes, his eyes widening in disbelief. "You? You got cheated on?" he blurts, his tone incredulous. "How is that possible? You're amazing."

You couldn’t help but huff out an unexpected laugh by the seriousness in his voice. He shakes his head, a mix of frustration and sadness on his face. "They were an idiot," he declares, taking your hand. "I’ll never understand how anyone could treat you like that – but I’ll make sure you never feel that way again."

His smile returns, softer this time, as he presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Promise."

Felix

During a cozy night in, a TV show triggers a memory, and you casually mention, "Yeah, my ex did that to me too." Felix freezes mid-bite of his snack, his eyes wide with shock.

"They what?" His voice is a mix of disbelief and sorrow. When you avoid his gaze, focusing on the TV instead, he leans forward slightly, trying to catch your eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, his tone coaxing but serious. When you finally meet his gaze, his expression is earnest, his eyes searching yours.

He takes your hands in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles. "You deserve so much better. If you ever feel unsure or insecure, just tell me, okay? I want to be the one to heal that part of you."

Seungmin

When Seungmin casually mentions a friend he’s been talking to, you freeze, suddenly feeling uneasy. He notices the shift in your mood. "Is something wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but concerned.

You hesitate, then admit, "I know you're not like them, but… I’ve been cheated on before, and it’s hard to trust anyone after that."

Seungmin’s eyes widen in surprise. "I had no idea," he says quietly.

You look down, your voice shaky. "I want to trust you, Seungmin. But the damage is done. I don’t know how to stop feeling this way."

He gently takes your hand across the table, his touch warm. "I’m so sorry you went through that. I want you to know I’m not like them. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

I.N

As a song about cheating plays on the radio, you murmur, "This song really hit hard when I found out about my ex."

I.N’s face shifts from surprise to quiet concern. "Wait, you went through what?" he asks softly, his usual bright demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.

You nod, explaining briefly about your cheating ex, and he listens intently. "That’s awful. You deserve so much better than what they gave you."

When the song ends, he flashes you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s make some new memories with better songs, okay? You’re safe with me." 

masterlist

[gf2bellamy]

concerned — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you have to go undercover and spencer doesn't like it content warnings: mention of unsub and his victims a/n: i'm definitely back in my spencer era <3

The conference room in the Arizona field office buzzed with tension, the weight of the serial killer case heavy on everyone’s shoulders. You had been working tirelessly alongside the team for days, pouring over profiles and victimology. The unsub had a clear pattern—targeting young women in bars, women who exuded just the right mix of confidence and vulnerability.   

Hotch stood at the front of the room, outlining the plan. As he reached the part about luring the unsub out, his gaze shifted to you.   

“You’ll be the target,” he said simply, like it was the most logical conclusion.   

Your stomach did a small flip, but you nodded, pushing aside any hesitation. After analyzing the victims’ profiles, it made sense. You fit his type.   

But before you could fully process the plan, a voice broke the silence.

“Wait—what?”   

You turned, startled, to see Spencer Reid, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The entire team paused, their attention snapping to him.   

Hotch’s brow arched slightly, his expression unreadable. “Is there a problem, Reid?” he asked, his tone measured but pointed.   

Spencer froze, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He clearly hadn’t meant to speak out loud, and now he was trapped under the weight of everyone’s gaze.   

“Uh—uhm, I just… I thought maybe she could…” He stumbled over his words, gesturing vaguely toward the case files as if searching for an excuse. “...help me with… uh… something else? Or maybe—”   

He cut himself off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.   

Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. His sharp gaze flicked between you and Spencer, and you knew instantly that he had caught on to what was happening.   

Hotch didn’t look amused. His focus returned to you, dismissing Spencer’s flustered protest.

“Get ready,” he nodded at you, before returning to the briefing as if nothing had happened.   

As the team dispersed to prepare for the operation, Emily sidled up beside you, her expression sly.   

“Looks like someone’s a little worried about you,” she said with a teasing smile, her voice low enough that only you could hear.   

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth rising in your cheeks betrayed you. “He’s just being... Spencer,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.   

Emily chuckled as she patted your arm. “Sure. Whatever you say.”   

She walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart thudding a little harder than it should have.   

You glanced over at Spencer, who was still at the far end of the room, pretending to busy himself with paperwork. He wasn’t looking at you now, but the pink flush on his cheeks hadn’t faded.   

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. Maybe Emily wasn’t entirely wrong.   

Spencer was hunched over the file, his eyes darting across the page, but you could tell he wasn’t actually reading it.

Every so often, his gaze flicked up toward you and then quickly back down, like he was trying to be subtle and failing miserably.   

“Spence,” you said softly as you walked over to him.   

He stiffened slightly but looked up, meeting your gaze for the briefest of moments. “Hmm?” he hummed, his voice nonchalant, though you could see the unease written all over his face.   

You stopped in front of him, offering a small smile. “I’ll be okay. You know that, right?”   

His hand went to the back of his neck, scratching it nervously as he avoided your eyes. “I know that,” he mumbled, though his tone wasn’t convincing.   

“Do you?” You tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze.   

Spencer finally looked up at you, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “He just seems dangerous,” he said, his words spilling out quickly. “And fast. And I’m concerned that we won’t be quick enough, that something could happen to you before—”   

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm to stop the ramble before he could spiral further. The touch was brief—mindful of how Spencer felt about physical contact—but it was enough to catch his attention.   

“Spence, stop,” you said softly, cutting through his anxious train of thought.   

His eyes met yours fully now, the worry in them clear as day.   

“How about I ask Hotch if Derek can be in the bar too?” you suggested, your tone light, though you were serious. “As extra backup? Will that make you feel better?”   

He hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing the idea. Then, with a small exhale, he nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.   

“Good,” you said, grinning softly. “See? Problem solved.”   

Before you turned to leave, you gave his arm a light squeeze, the warmth of the gesture lingering for just a second.

“I’ll be fine, Spencer,” you said again, your voice calm.   

He watched you walk away, his eyes following you as if to reassure himself. Though he didn’t say it aloud, the small, grateful smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. 

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: No electricity, no Eddie, and nowhere to run when danger struck. (3.7k words)

♫ CW: threat of violence, alcohol consumption, slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprecation, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter fifteen: further to fall

Stillness and tension filled the space in the lobby. It surrounded you and your parents, enveloping you in its thick haze and snuffing out the conversation. 

This wasn’t the end of it, you were certain. Their disappointment wasn’t permanently extinguished; it was just dimmed while dealing with the newer, more pertinent crisis. 

Mom huffed out a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, isn’t that great?” She gave you a pointed glare, one that solidified that the discussion was far from over, before she rifled through the desk drawer. 

“What are you looking for? I can help—”

She pulled out a flashlight. “I’ve got it,” she muttered. Her tone was icy enough to bring snowfall to the heatwave when she added, “I think you’ve done enough.”

Shame spun a web in your lungs, but there was something else along with it that quickly choked out that sadness. Something fiery, almost wicked in nature. 

I think you’ve done enough. 

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Mom had said it with such vitriol, such disappointment, that she only could have meant to hurt you. And, for a brief moment, she did. 

But you plucked that knife from your side and launched it back at her with unwavering precision. 

“Yeah, I think I have.” The world went red as words spilled from you in a seething rage. “I spent years working for pennies so you could keep the motel afloat. I gave up spending time with friends so you’d have cheap labor instead of actually hiring someone and paying them a decent salary.”

 All of those nights spent stuck behind the desk, watching the Vacancy light taunt you from the window. Hearing the other college students enjoying their buzz as they paraded from bar to bar. The tamped-down envy that you convinced yourself would go away if you ignored it long enough. 

It exploded now, unleashing a tidal wave of venom and carrying a host of words that carelessly rolled off your tongue. 

“I never would have ‘done enough’ unless I took over the motel and ran it exactly like you want me to.” Spittle gathered at the corners of your mouth. “And even then, I’m sure I’d mess up something else.”

Anger flashed behind Mom’s eyes. “Don’t go playing the martyr,” she said, jaw tensed. “You chose to lie to us.”

“And what would have happened if I told you the truth? Would you have been okay with all of this?” A challenge, one that she could only win by lying. 

She knew it, too; she faltered when she spoke again. “We would have had more time to prepare.”

But there were no preparations—none that were feasible and wouldn’t bankrupt the already struggling business. They would have had more time to convince you not to pursue your dreams—that’s what she meant. 

“Maybe…maybe we should…” Dad hesitated, “maybe we should discuss this later.”

Mom was ready to agree, but you shook your head. 

“I don’t want to discuss this later.” Later reminded you of soon, and the empty promises you made to Eddie. 

Eddie, who was off touring with his band, burying himself inside models or groupies or—God help you—Fiona. 

You shook off the thoughts of him and continued. “I lied to you. I pretended like I was going to school for hospitality. I pretended like I was planning to take over the motel after graduation. And I pretended like there was nothing going on between me and Eddie even though we…had feelings for each other.” You swallowed the embarrassment as you remembered the picnic date that ended in a public makeout session. “I’m sorry that I lied, but if you can’t see why I had to, then I don’t think any more ‘discussions’ will help.”

Sweat trickled down your spine, the heat of the argument exacerbating the already high temperatures. It bloomed beneath your arms and under the band of your bra, and you pinched the cotton of your shirt between your thumb and forefinger and fanned yourself. 

“I’m done talking. And I’m done listening. I’m just…done.” A terse, tired exhale escaped your lips with a shudder. Your breath caught in your lungs as you heaved out a sob. One tear fell. Then another. And another, until you were crying too hard to breathe, let alone speak. 

Shaking hands smeared your tears across your cheeks. You were sorry—and you weren’t. You had been selfish, yes, but it felt earned after years of putting their dreams before your own. 

You were furious at them—and at yourself, for being mad at them. You were ashamed of the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, and yet each one was a weight lifted from your shoulders.  

A headache bloomed behind your eyes as Stop feeling sorry for yourself and Let them see your pain battled for dominance. 

You’d given up Eddie because you were so afraid of disappointing your parents. You’d been so concerned about remaining selfless that you ended up being selfish towards the man who’d made you feel like the truest version of yourself. 

And now he was gone for good. There was no sense crying over spilt milk—especially without the handyman who cleaned it up. 

You collected yourself, trying to forget the way your fingers perfectly laced with his like adjoining puzzle pieces. Trying not to wonder what other connections you might have made together if you hadn’t pushed him away. 

“I-I have a flashlight in my room. And I’m pretty sure I have some sp-spare batteries.” You forced each word out in a desperate plea to change the subject. “I can…I can get them. And then I’ll run and see if I can buy some flashlights to give to the guests.”

Dad nodded, the lines at the corners of his eyes still crinkling with concern. “You should go now. Before it gets dark.” Before people start losing their minds and any sense of morality, were his unspoken words. 

You dared to glance at Mom, though she kept her gaze trained on the desk. Something—mother’s instinct, perhaps—allowed her to swallow her pride and say, “thank you.”

You only managed a nod before you darted out the door, knowing that if you opened your mouth to say “you’re welcome,” you’d start crying again. 

It wasn’t long before guests trickled out of their rooms, complaining about the lights not working or the phone not having dial tone. With increasingly thinning patience, you explained again and again that you didn’t know when the power would return. 

In addition to the current guests, the blackout brought a slew of new faces. These guests were well outside of the usual demographic of truckers, ladies of the night, and affair-havers seeking a place for a quick lay. Exhausted parents toting cranky children and business people with briefcases tucked beneath their arms walked through the door, their relief palpable when you told them you had rooms available. 

A family of four got the last room only a few minutes after your shift began: a mom, a dad, and their two sons, the oldest of which couldn't have been older than five. He entered the lobby first, barreling through the door like a bull in a china shop.

“Alex, please.” It was all the mother could muster for a scolding. Sweat beaded along her collarbones and dampened her “I Love NY” t-shirt. Her husband trailed behind her, holding their younger son. The boy was sleeping, heat-reddened face smushed into his father’s shoulder. 

The mother wiped at her tired eyes. “Do you have a room?” More plea than question, and you were more than happy to oblige.

As she scribbled her information down on the guest log, the older boy—Alex—peered up at you from behind the desk. “Did you ever see someone steal stuff?” He asked excitedly. 

You had, on numerous occasions, but theft was hardly a topic you wanted to talk about with a young child. “I don’t think so.”

“I did! Just now.” He bounced on the balls of his feet. “Me an’ Mommy an’ Daddy an’ Gavin were getting snacks, and some guys stoled while we were in the store!”

“Alex,” his father warned, but it wasn’t stern enough to deter him from elaborating. 

“An’ the guy who worked at the store got really mad and started yelling at them. But they ran away super super fast. Like lightning speed. Like…” he stopped speaking to run in place, little legs working overtime to show just how fast the looters were running. “It was cool!”

Cool wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it. “What store was this?” You glanced between the two adults. 

“Just down the street,” the mom answered. “I can’t remember the name, but it had a yellow awning.”

It was unsurprising that the convenience stores and bodegas would be hit first. The combination of low security and easily moveable items made them the perfect targets. The motel would be much lower on the list, but you weren’t in the clear. Besides taking the money in the register, an angry crowd could do some serious property damage. 

Without anything to offer, you might end up with a few broken windows or a graffiti-tagged door. 

You plucked the room key from its place and handed it to her, along with two miniature flashlights that you had managed to snag from the discount store earlier that day. The lights weren't the brightest, but it beat the alternative of sitting in complete darkness. 

Alex looked up at his mother, strawberry-blond hair matted to his forehead. “Mommy, can I watch TV, please?”

“Honey, I told you—the TVs won’t work in a blackout.”

The boy’s lower lip wobbled and his eyes went glassy with the prospect of tears. “But I wanna watch TV,” he whined. His shoulders slumped, one sneakered foot stomping in indignation. “I even said ‘please!’”

You could see his mother’s patience thinning, like a frayed string about to snap. Before she could raise her voice or he devolved into a full-blown tantrum, you stepped in. 

“Alex?” The boy looked at you at the sound of his name. “I know it’s a bummer that you can’t watch TV. It’s hard when we can’t do what we want.”

He nodded, though the threat of tears still lingered. 

“I have some crayons and paper that are perfect for coloring,” you continued, rummaging through the desk drawer and procuring the pack of Crayola and scrap paper. “I know it’s not the same as watching TV, but maybe you can draw your favorite characters.”

The dad lightly squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “Hey, that seems pretty fun, bud,” he said softly, careful not to wake the dozing toddler. “Maybe you can draw the Ninja Turtles.”

You didn’t know much about the Ninja Turtles—just that there were four of them—but you feigned as much enthusiasm as the oppressive heat allowed. “Ooh, the Ninja Turtles! Which one is your favorite?”

“L-Leonardo,” Alex hiccuped. 

“Mine, too!” You smiled and slid the crayon box towards him. He stood on tiptoes and took it from the desk. “Make sure you share with your brother once he wakes up, okay?”

“Okay.” Alex paused. “But I might have to use all the green. ‘Cause of the Ninja Turtles.”

You tried to hold back the smile twitching on your lips and match his serious expression. “Right. That makes sense.”

“Say ‘thank you,’” his mom gently reminded him. He did, flashing you a baby tooth-filled grin. 

“Any time. You can stop by tomorrow and show me what you drew, okay?”

The family had only been gone for a minute when another door squeaked open farther down the hall. You held your breath, waiting for another asinine complaint that was well beyond your control. 

Relief seeped into your skin at the sight of Phyllis, her face scrubbed of its usual heavy makeup. She wore sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, house slippers scuffling against the ground. She carried her trusty bat under her arm. 

“Figured you might need this with all of that,” Phyllis gestured towards the chaos beyond the front door, “going on.”

You accepted the bat with a grateful smile. 

“No work tonight?” 

She shook her head. “Too many cops. And I’m too damn old to be getting busted.”

You laughed at that, the first genuine laugh you’d had in days. Weeks, probably. 

Had Eddie really been gone that long?

“I overheard you talking to that kid,” she said. “You’re good. I thought he was gonna start screaming.”

You let out a mirthless chuckle. “Well, that’s one thing I haven’t royally screwed up.”

Phyllis cocked her head, inquiring to know more, but you didn’t speak until she said, “I’ve got nothing to do all night. Might as well tell me a story.”

And so you told her, hurriedly unspooling each moment like a race to the finish. Perhaps it was: if you stopped for a breath, you might start crying again.

Minutes passed and she continued listening. The setting sun shone its final pinkish-purple rays through the lobby windows, its shadows emphasizing the older woman’s wrinkles, as you told her every mistake you’d made that led to now.

Phyllis was silent for a moment longer, waiting to ensure you were done. Understanding and, to your embarrassment and chagrin, pity reflected in her milky pupils.

“When I was your age, no one could tell me what to do,” she finally said. “Not my friends, not my family. I didn’t even listen to the cops arresting me.” She leaned in and whispered, “I was a lot more wiry back then.”

She heaved a reminiscent sigh. “I really thought I was tough shit. Invincible and all that. But now I look back and…I wonder what I could’ve been–who I could’ve been–if I just stopped and listened. I might not have been the first female President of the United States, but maybe I wouldn’t be a sixty-something-year-old hooker.”

“I’d vote for you,” you tried to joke, but it didn’t land.

Phyllis just placed one thin hand over yours. “You have the opposite problem. You care about what everyone thinks and you try to make everyone happy. But then you’re not happy.”

“I tried to be happy.” Memories of your psychology classes and picnic dates filled your mind, quickly replaced with images of your disappointed parents and an angry Eddie. “And it just made me selfish.”

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“Of course it is!” The conversation had devolved from something profound into nonsense. Maybe the heat was getting to her, because who in their right mind would think selfishness was good?

Phyllis shrugged. “Being too selfish, maybe. But putting yourself first once in a while isn’t a cardinal sin, y’know. Or maybe it is.” She scratched at an old scab on her arm. “I’m not the religious type.”

She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, offering it out to you. You could certainly use one, the stress of today refusing to dissipate, but just the thought of any extra heat near your body made your skin crawl. 

Phyllis flicked the lighter, illuminating her face in the dwindling light. “What would’ve happened if you just told your parents the truth years ago?”

You considered the question, let the cynical answer loll around your mouth until it resembled something less pointed. More palatable. 

“They would’ve been mad back then, too.”

“And?”

You kept your gaze straight ahead as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I guess…I guess we could have figured out what to do sooner,” you finally said, parroting your mother’s words. 

But Phyllis shook her head again. “That’s not what I meant.” She gave you a pointed look, jabbing her lit cigarette in your direction. It was a menthol; different from the ones Eddie smoked. Yet it still reminded you of him, of being tucked up under his arm as he kissed your temple. 

“What would it have changed for you?” Phyllis tried again. “Not your parents; not the motel. Not even Lover Boy.”

You thought about it–really thought about how your life would be altered if you’d chosen honesty from the very beginning. 

You’d never have to check over your shoulder when writing essays for your psychology classes. You could have looked forward to graduate school—or at least felt the usual trepidation that came with new experiences, rather than the fear of letting people down. Eddie might have been standing in front of you now, taking every opportunity to steal kisses while he set up battery-powered fans. 

You never asked to be placed atop that pedestal, the one that declared you nothing less than perfect and a failure otherwise. But you could have helped yourself down, carefully and gracefully, rather than crashing to the ground without a safety net. 

But instead of floating, you’re melting in the motel lobby, your future scattered in pieces before you. 

The last time you floated was that trip to NYU with Eddie. Laughter easily bubbled out of you when he taunted the street preacher, a lightness you should have cherished at the time. 

How naive of you to assume it would last forever, when it didn’t even last a day.

The streets had been bathed in darkness for hours, your desk barely illuminated by a tiny flashlight, when it happened.

You had put down your book just twenty minutes earlier, your eyes straining to read the print. A headache thrummed at your temples, worsening until you stopped mid-sentence and finally stuck your bookmark between the pages.

The closed door could only do so much to stifle the cacophony of shattering glass and raucous shouting. Shop owners who lived above their stores yelled down to the looters, feebly hoping to scare them away, but they could not be deterred. Only the sounds of police sirens whooping were enough to send the thieves scattering, though they often ran with their arms full of stolen goods.

You didn’t see the man until he was inside the lobby, stumbling towards the desk as so many had before. Through the dim light, you could see a tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sweat-soaked button-down clung to his pale skin, the stench of liquor oozing from every pore.

He nearly tripped over his own feet, and he snorted out a laugh before clearing his throat. “Need a room,” he slurred. Up close, the lines on his forehead were more pronounced. Perspiration matted his thinning hair to his scalp. 

Your hand instinctively wrapped around the knob of Phyllis’s bat, your palm pressed so tightly against the wood that you risked a splinter. 

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any available.” You kept your tone even, if a bit clipped. 

A sardonic grin stretched across the man’s face. He swiped his tongue over his teeth. “No rooms, huh? That’s what they said at all the other places.” He braced his forearms on the desk, his breath curdling the contents of your stomach. “And I’m startin’ to get real pissed that there isn’t a goddamn room in this goddamn city!”

Spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth, just as rancid as the rest of him. 

“First, my flight gets cancelled when I’m already at the airport. Then I try to drown my sorrows at the bar, and the bartender cuts me off. And now I’ve got some bitch telling me—”

“You need to leave.” God, you really didn’t want to have to use the bat, didn’t want to swing at a stranger… “Or I’ll call the police.”

His laughter chilled you, and only once you heard it did you realize your mistake. No electricity meant no phone calls, which meant no police. 

“Do you think I wanna be here?” He seethed. “Do you think this dump was my first choice? Every damn hotel was booked. Just give me a fucking room.”

You could scream. It would wake everyone in the motel and someone would come to check on you. But screaming also meant risking some sort of retaliation to keep you quiet, even if he hadn’t planned to hurt you at all. If you screamed, he could strike. 

No, making noise was not an option. 

The hand not clutching the bat was sweat-slicked from fear. Your grip slipped from where you braced yourself on the desk, fingers slamming into the drawer knob and knocking it open.

Wood scraped against wood, and then there was only a soft thud: The pepper spray canister had rolled to the front of the drawer.

Your second mistake was the half-second you spent flexing your throbbing fingers, hissing at the sudden pain. It was enough time for the man to lunge towards you, knocking over the bell that sat atop the desk. The one that Eddie rang that first night to wake you from your impromptu mid-shift nap.

It skittered to the floor with an anticlimactic ping and landed at your feet. You trapped it beneath a sneakered foot before sliding it behind you with as much precision as the adrenaline permitted, careful not to damage it.

The front door slammed open with enough force to send the knob careening into the wall. When the sun rises again, you wouldn’t be surprised if there was an indent in the plaster, or at least a scuff on the wallpaper. 

Looters, you thought grimly. Must’ve robbed the stores and bodegas and now they’re here as a last resort. Your body slumped in defeat, ready to let them take whatever they needed.

A sweaty, unfamiliar hand grabbed your wrist as the man pulled both you and your attention. But he only held onto you for a second before he let go.

No–not let go. Not of his own volition, anyway. He’d been yanked back by something–someone, rather; though the dim lighting only offered a glimpse of a glinting piece of metal being held to the man’s throat. 

A few hours passed by in seconds before you allowed yourself to see who had come to your rescue. To know that your heart and your mind were playing tricks on you in some sort of heat-induced delusion.

Deep brown eyes met yours, all at once softening his hardened edges, even as his grip on the pocket knife never faltered. 

And then Eddie Munson’s voice, more gruff and possessive than you’d ever heard it before, ricocheted through your veins.

“Get your fucking hands off of her.”

--

taglist:

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[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Could I request NSFW of Jazz, Armada Starscream, TFP Knockout or Rodimus/Hot Rod being curious about a female reader with a bigger chest? You can pick any I just wanna let you choose whichever seems more interesting! 🩷🩷🩷

I see so many poste about them liking readers being soft, but never really about breasts, I assumed they'd find the softness fascinating.

Count how many times I wrote the word breast:

I went with Jazz and Hot Rod. N/$/4/W. Nothing too explicit, Hot Rods less so. Also No beta. Had fun writing this.

Jazz:

Humans were rather squishy compared to Cybertronians. One grip too hard and squish. Flesh would give under the slightest of pressure, with some resistance to the boney areas. It was still nothing compared to his own metal plating.

Jazz was observant, and through that observation he learned some things about humans. They, like cyebrtronains, came in many shapes sizes and colors. But some of them had round and bouncy somethings on their chests. He assumed it was just their own bit of kibble, just some extra bits. These too, came in various sizes and shapes.

But not like yours.

Jazz couldn't stop himself from starring. How could he not? Every step you took, turn, and even when you laughed, they would bounce. He liked to make you laugh, but now he had more motivation to crack jokes around you. He liked to stare, and you knew he liked to stare. You made it more interesting for him to stare.

Playing with the collar of your shirt, or wearing low cut blouses. He wasn't sure why, but the hot summer day you ran an icecube over you neck and cleavage has his own system over heating. Had to go drive and get some steam out after that.

When fate, or luck, or maybe mutual interest finally got you alone, he got to finally see them uncovered. A bit too eager to take his time, Jazz peels your shirt away with careful servos. Didn't want to rip it, you already threatened to kick his aft if that happened.

the shirt comes off and he is gawking. The curve, the swell, the peak. the way they sat so differently now that you werent wearing anything. He takes a moment to just marvel at them while you lean back on your hands. Jazz could only think of one thing to do with them.

Such pretty sounds came out of your mouth when he put his mouth around one. Mesh glossa flickering over the hardened nipple as you arch and put a hand on his helm. He could do this all day. A servo on one of your tits, the other in his mouth. they really are soft, softer than he expected and it makes him moan around the flesh. When he takes the stiff nipple between his denta, you whine and warn him not to bite.

"Oh don't worry sweet-spark, when I bite, you'll like it." Not iff, when. He could already picture how it would feel to carefully leave his mark. Maybe your thigh, or hip. He wouldn't dream of bruising your beautiful tits.

With a pop, he switches over to the other, Lubricant coating your flesh. Jazz hums in appreciation seeing your grab and play with them yourself. He pulls back, watching, wondering. Could he rut his spike between them?

Hot Rod:

He was taking advantage of the situation, that much you were VERY aware of. It was cold, you were even colder without a jacket, and Hot Rod was very, very warm. All of the bots were, but he was especially so. You hadn't planned on being in the snow without a jacket, and Prime was apologizing profusely when he got you back to base.

Shivering, teeth chattering, you assured the Leader that it was perfectly fine. Hot Rod volunteers to warm you up, and now you were sat in his lap, one servo holding you against his chassis. You sunk back against him, soaking in that warmth when you noticed it the first time. The subtle brush of his digit against your chest. Just his servo flexing, you told yourself. Then it happened again.

He must have thought he was being subtle, not thinking about how his size makes it far from subtle for you, but he was coping a feel. You shake your head. No no... He was curious, hadn't had a lot of time with humans. he was curious.

The edge of his thumb brushes downward, pausing when he feels you nipples poking through the shirt. You should say something. Another soft press. You might want to say something. It's awkward, but the tip of his middle digit is circling one of your nipples. You should really say something if you want this to stop.

The Mech keeps poking and subtly squeezing your chest, getting a little bolder by your lack of response. You could feel your cheeks go warm when he started pushing your breasts up before letting them drop. Even leaning over you to watch them bounce. You want to say something, but Hot Rod chuckles, watching and you don't have the heart. You bite your lip and try to tell yourself it doesn't feel nice.

"What are these?" He asks, putting both massive hands around you. There is a digit on each breast, massaging them. It feels kind of nice, but you gotta stop this, he doesn't understand.

"Hot Rod-" You put a hand over his digits that push and squeeze your chest. He doesn't seem to realize your trying to stop the movement. It's gentle so it doesn't hurt. It feels nice, "These are breasts and you really shouldn't do that.

"Do what?" The massive bot curls over you more, and the heat intensifies.

"Touch them." You breath hitches as he some how manages to pinch the nipples delicately enough to not hurt them. Again, and your jerk with a whimper.

His touch pauses, optics flash and cooling fan clicks on, "Oh?"

Hot Rod keeps you pressed against him, but doesn't move. You're squirming from embarrassment and a heat in your core. Overly warm, craving it and wanting this awkwardness to stop.

"Can I see them?"

Oh this got so much more embarrassing.

"What?"

"You humans cover yourselves right?" He fingers the collar of your shirt, unintentionally making your head tip back, "Can I see them? I noticed yours are bigger than others."

"Some bots have bigger chests." You retort, shivering as his digit keeps pulling down at your collar.

"We don't cover up." His other digit runs over your nipple again. "Whats this?"

"If I show you will you drop it?"

Hot Rod pulls his servos away, still hovering near you. a smile on his face plates as he nods. He is way to eager for this. way too eager for how... innocent he seems about this.

You grumble to yourself before reaching for the edge of your shirt, glancing around. No one else was in here. You hope it stays that way. In one quick swoop, you pull the shirt off. Damnit, should have worn a cute bra today. Why do you care? It's a robot? This was just an old bra that was slightly too small.

Hot Rod makes a noise that may have been cooing. "More coverings?"

"Yeah.... I need it."

"Why?" He rubs a bra strap, trying to get it off your shoulder. He tsks when you smack his digit before reaching behind yourself to unhook it. He makes that noise again when your tits spill out. He is quick to touch again, cupping them with his thumbs.

"Hey! You said See!"

He makes a pouting face, still gently pressing. "Hey, not my fault they're even softer than the rest of you. Too tempting."

His metal was hot on your skin. Were you warm from him, or..

"You... you should stop." You hands rest on the junction that would be his wrist.

"Why?" Hot Rod asks, curling more, leaning close. Caging you in. "Because you like it?"

You can't respond with more than another whimper. Oh he was completely aware, huh?

Hot Rod smiles, happy to keep using you like a stress ball. Cooing and squeezing. Trying to see how else he could get those little sounds out of you.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (7)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part VII - Lines are Drawn

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: And more lore is being dropped! Excited to hear what y'all think and hopefully the ending wasn't too bad 😅

The Hightower sisters sat across from each other, neither said a word or made a sound, rather waiting in silence for their Father to arrive.

(Y/N) had enjoyed the short trip that she had with her nephews and niece, but was immediately alerted by an awaiting servant that she was to meet with her Father and sister. Reluctantly, she had sent the children off with Criston to freshen up from their arduous journey. And rather than put off the inevitable had gone to the summons in her riding attire.

So now, the two sisters were in wait with Alicent sat as the picture of absolute decorum; upright, hands clasped together primly, and her face blank of all emotion. Her elder sister leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and a scowl graced her features.

"Your face will stay that way if you keep scowling" Alicent said softly.

Her sister scoffed, "Oh no. My already disfigured face will be marred even further."

"There is no need for you to be so curt with me."

"Then don't try and tell me what to do, simply because you bedded the supposed most powerful man in the realm, it does not mean you can order me around."

Alicent scowled back, "It is a wonder how our aunt dealt with you. You are so crass and impertinent in the worst of times."

"It's called having a personality Alicent, you would know what that is if you didn't always have a stick up your arse."

The screech of Alicent's chair rang through the room, as the younger Hightower stood up in indignation towards the treatment from her older sister. But the two kept quiet once they heard the thud of the doors open and their Father walked in with a thunderous expression.

"Oh thank you Father," (Y/N) drawled. "You finally grace us with your presence when you're the one that called for us to meet you."

With little warning, Otto harshly turned his elder daughter's chair around and gripped her chin in his hand tightly. His eyes narrowed and his fingers clamped down hard, the nails of his fingers nearly piercing the soft flesh of her skin. "You have the gall to act so brazenly when you have gone behind our backs and hindered all of the careful planning that we went through."

His daughter pulled at his hand to loosen his tight grip, "So you have finally taken notice."

"Did you think that I would not know? I am Hand of the King! Laws and decrees do not happen without my knowing," Otto seethed. "But it had to be my own daughter, my flesh and blood that sought out the King to completely overturn everything your sister and I have tried to accomplish."

"What has she done, Father?" Alicent asked.

"Might as well ask me what this belligerent child of mine has not done" Otto said. "But she had the cheek to have it written that all matters concerning your children Alicent, must be approved by only her!"

"Is this true?" the younger Hightower asked. "I am their mother! I know what is best for my children, not you! How dare you go behind my back and have my husband approve this!"

Not one to be scolded, Alicent's older sister pushed away from ser Otto and stared them down.

"If you knew what was best for your children, why would you agree to Aegon and Helaena being married? To treating Aemond like he couldn't accomplish things because of his disfigurement?" (Y/N) said. "I will not let those children suffer as I did, because of your actions!"

Otto laughed, "You bring up this argument time and time again. You wanted for nothing, you know not of suffering."

"Deny it all you like Father, but tell me who was the man that took one look at my recently scarred face and turned his back on me?! Who was it that brushed aside the fact that Alicent was so spoiled that she couldn't stand a moment not being fawned over that she pushed me toward the very flames that left me scarred?" she cried out. "Where was my Father then? And every instance since then, where was he?!"

"Our Father had and has a duty to the realm," Alicent argued. "You cannot expect a man of his importance to think of such petty qualms that you might have!"

(Y/N) scoffed, "Of course his favorite would come to his defense! You are just like him! Both of you talk about family, honor, and all these values that you don't truly believe."

"Our family has always been my priority with every decision that I have made, you should know this" Alicent argued. "How could you think any differently?"

"Let me ask you Alicent, how old is Aegon?"

Alicent scrunched her face, "How is that - "

"Aegon is five and ten, the same age that my son Vorian would have been if the Stranger hadn't taken him" (Y/N) wiped at her eyes. "Vorian is your nephew, whose funeral that both you and our Father neglected to attend. And it was not just him, when I dealt with the loss of my beloved husband and youngest son Doran it was Gwayne who stood at my side!"

"Surely you could not expect for us to be in two places at once!" Otto argued. "We had to stand alongside the King for the funeral of Lady Laena!"

"We are family when it is convenient, Father" his daughter laughed in disbelief. "It does not excuse that I was not even offered a letter of condolence when Vorian passed away, he was equally your grandson just as my sister's children. But I suppose since he was only fifth in line to the Dornish throne, he wasn't as valuable to you."

"This is simply your grief talking!" Otto dismissed.

"No Father, this is me talking!" she screamed. "You better damn well listen because I am a woman grown and I intend to see everything you have worked so hard to accomplish to crash and burn!"

Otto stood toe to toe with his daughter, "You would not dare!"

"Watch me!" his daughter smirked. "I learned from my Uncle Hobert well; I sat long enough, I listened, and I intend to prove the bastards in front of me wrong!"

The slap Otto gave to his eldest daughter rang in the room, leaving a visible bruise beginning to form on her face. It was followed by the hearty laugh of (Y/N) as she turned to her sister with a smile.

"Know this Alicent, when all is said and done, by the time that the children no longer need me. They will not need you either."

This enraged the young Queen as she pointed toward the door, "OUT! GET OUT!"

Her sister curtsied mockingly, "As the Queen wishes."

And left.

Leaving both her Father and sister to regret having summoned the elder Hightower daughter in the first place because they knew that something had begun and weren't sure how this would end.