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kisses4themissus · 15 hours ago

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What is this feeling? | M.R x Reader

a/n: yess i'm posting pt2 already, i was excited and this is a bit of story set up for the next upcoming parts! Tysm for all the support and nice comments!! pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch X Single Mom!Reader wc : 2.7k

Previous | Requests are open for dr. robby! | pls vote for lovebugs name!

The sound of a notification catches your attention during a conversation with another doctor about a patient. You ignored it at first but had to excuse yourself as it dinged once more.

You pulled out your phone, worried it was about your daughter but was relived to see the words.

Floor checks.

Every few months gloria would be forced to do checks of each active hospital floor; you sighed before turning to find the nearest nurse to make her aware of the situation.

Once it had gotten out floor checks would be that day, you watched as nurses and a few doctors help label medication, place caps on all IVs, clean up their stations. Thankfully your departments knew how to work together to get the cleanest result possible.

You walked around the floor, checking with your own eyes.

Noticing when something was missing or wrong, you’d quickly having a nurse fix it. It was a joke among ICU staff you had run them tighter than the navy. “Someone get more green caps for the IVs…and me a redbull please.” You added making some of the nurses chuckle.

“Cafeteria ran out.” One of the nursing assistants infomed you all. “I’ll order some coffee after we’re cleared of gloria.” You waved it off as you resumed your own sweep of the floor.

- - - - - - - -

“Everything seems to be in order, so it’s gonna be an eight.” Gloria smiled as you beamed at the score. “Thank you gloria!” You smiled and walked with her to the elevators.

“ED’s the last floor this year?” You asked, pressing the elevator’s button. “Yes, thought i’d save the worse for last.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“It wasn’t so bad down there.” You chuckled.

“And how long ago was that?” She smiled at you before turning to step into the elevator. “Are you calling me old?” You both laughed as you acted flattered.

It was a hidden fact that you were cross trained, between emergency medicine and intensive care. Rarely anyone at the hospital knew of it. Jack was your attending when you worked in the ED.

- - - - - - - -

Stepping out of the elevator you bounced over to central where around it, all of the ED ran around, trying their best to clean up for floor checks.

“How’d it go?” Langdon asked, making you grin. “Like always…eight!” You watched as langdon playful roll his eyes at you.

“Eight?” Santos asked, sitting away from you both.

You nod at her tone. “Ten is impossible, like none of the patients are sick, and nine is also insanely ridiculous for example there can’t be any trash in the trashcans kind of ridiculous.” You summarized.

“So eight is the most realistic?” She finished making you nod with a smile. “Yep, the ICU and neurological are always tied.” You chuckled, langdon just groaned as he walked away and towards a patient’s room.

“What does the pitt always get?” She asked, making you chuckle as robby ran across the ED, helping out his other interns. “Three, or if it’s a miracle than a four.”

Santos nodded before being pulled away by a patient’s parent.

You stood by central and smiled as you pulled out your phone, your heart began melting as your dad sent you a video of lovebug at soccer practice.

Her tiny pigtails flew behind her as she ran with the ball, laughing as her and her friend bump into each other.

“With that kind of smile you must have a hot lover?” A voice asked from behind you, making you close your phone and turn back with a grin.

“Hi myrna.” You greeted the older woman, who smirked at you. “No one’s got me hooked yet.” You chuckled, squatting down beside her. “How did you do it this time?” You asked, earning a proud look on myrna’s face, she sat up a bit more in the wheelchair.

“Meat grinder.” She beamed.

You nodded slowly, getting up as you heard the staff elevators open and the familiar clicking of kitten heels. “Well next time, make sure to get one of the automatic ones ok; don’t need you getting arthritis from that meat grinder!” You playfully pointed at the blond who nodded.

She quickly wheeled herself away, leaving you to turn to see robby getting caught by gloria as he tried to sneak past.

Robby groaned, slipping off his glasses before motioning for gloria to follow him. Quickly running up to the pair, robby held in a obnoxious sigh at the sight of your cheeky face. “May I join you both, i mean the ICU is one of the higher scoring departments..” You said, your arms tucked behind your back as you bounced on your heels.

Robby turned to you with a look of distaste. He shook his head no at your request.

Gloria looked around the pitt before nodding at you. “I think a new pair of eyes would do good.” Gloria agreed and began walking ahead.

Like the cheshire cat, your smile grew as you tilted your head at robby and shrugged before walking to catch up with gloria.

- - - - - - - -

You hadn’t spoken since you had joined the pair in the check, quietly making observations.

As you three entered the last room before the final score, you had spotted a disconnected feeding tube, quickly noticing before robby or gloria. You ran by the monitor and began looking around, using your body to cover the feeding tube.

“I think this is the most decent room i’ve seen so far.” You smiled at the pair, robby raised an eyebrow at your stiff body movement but moved on as gloria exited and walked back to central.

You waited for them to be a bit further before stepping to the door of the room, whitaker stopped as you motioned for him to come into the room with the intubated patient. “You need to change the feeding tube, somehow it got disconnected, now luckily i don’t think gloria or dr. robinavitch noticed.” You softly explained, motions to the tiny puddle of liquid on the ground.

“Oh um, thank you we had to move him on his side, it must’ve disconnected.” He explained, nervous as to why you weren’t yelling at him for the mistake.

“Things happen, just watch for it next time ok, now go get that tube.” You smiled and stepped out of the room.

Whitaker just nodded at your words and made his way to the supply closet for another tube. How could robby not like you? You seemed nice, you had even brought treats for the ED the week before.

- - - - - - - -

As you approached central, you watched robby throw his hands up both clenched before he stormed off towards the ambulance bay. Dana sighed, her glasses now at the bridge of her nose.

“How low?” You asked dana who sighed, placing her hands on the desk. “...Two, and now robby’s all in a mood so god help us all it’s gonna be hell.” Dana took off her glasses and tossed them aside.

You sucked in a breath, eyeing the ambulance bay. With a swift movement you patted the desk and walked outside, luckily it hadn’t been too busy.

Stopping in your tracks as robby paced outside, his hands behind his head as he muttered curses under his breath. “You doing ok?” You asked cautiously.

Robby let out groan at your voice. “Go back to your uppity tower alright, some of us actually have to work down here.” He barked at you, with a shocked expression you scoffed at him.

“Excuse you?!” You walked closer to him.

“I’ve covered for your lazy ass so much during this whole floor check!” You laughed at his audacity. “I kept my mouth shut about the amount of wrong labeled medication– Or, or about a leaking feeding tube on the ground!” You began to list off the amount of mistakes you hadn’t brought up to gloria.

“Oh or–or that poor old lady with h.i.t upstairs not a peep, you should be kissing my ass by the way, i managed to persuade her children from a lawsuit!” You scoffed, not caring about the looks you both were getting from the EMTs.

“Oh congratulation on being a manipulator.” Robby scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“I may not save as many lives as you but I sure am saving your ass a lot robinavitch!” You scoffed, walking away from robby and back towards the elevators.

Robby scoffed and shook his head as you walked away.

Dana quickly walked out on to the ambulance bay and placed her hands on her hips. “Robby, we have an incoming car crash victims, ETA is ten minutes.” She informed him, noticing as robby rubbed his face before nodding.

- - - - - - - -

After your argument with robby, you had thrown yourself back into your work, checking over patients and their treatment.

Finally you had gotten to sit down at your desk, throwing your head back you sighed. It had only been the late afternoon, few more hours before you could cuddle your lovebug and fall asleep on the couch after a few episodes of my little pony with lovebug.

Buzzing of your phone dragged you back to reality, you quickly picked up, not noticing the contact.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hi sweetie, listen i justed wanted to call to see if you or lovebuggie wanted to join us for a small dinner tonight for his um- uh anniversary.”

You heart dropped at the other voice. “Hi lauren, um i’m kind of stuck at work but um, you could call my parents they have her right now..” You faked a happy tone. “Oh alrighty then, get home safe then honey.”

The line disconnected, looking at the date on your phone made you sigh heavily, quickly standing up and walking out of the ICU.

- - - - - - - -

Walking into the hospital’s small church felt off, you had noticed one other person in there as well, a younger boy, he had his arms resting on the pew in front of him, his eyes staring at the fake stained window.

You sighed and sat down on the pew a few in front of him, you fidgeted with something inside your jacket pocket before pulling out a small wooden heart charm.

Rubbing the heart made you bust into tears.

Shuffling was heard behind you for a moment, as you leaned your head into your palms as tears fell. “Can i sit here ma’am?” A voice asked beside you, picking up your head you nodded and scooted over to make room for the younger boy and handed you a tissue.

“Thanks.”

The boy wordlessly nodded and continued to stare at the glass.

“I lost my girlfriend a few months back..” He explained, his own tears falling. You nod at him to continue.

“We were at pittfest, she got shot, the doctors couldn’t even save her.” He sighed, tears now flowing. “She was so young..” He added, now holding his head in his palms.

You nodded and began rubbing his back in comfort, “I know the pain, my boyfriend passed six years ago, he had just moved to his first apartment, i remember how excited he was..” You sighed, wiping your tears away.

“He was at the wrong place at the wrong time, he had gotten into an accident, the guys who hit his car jumped him, he wasn’t recognizable when he was brought in..” You paused, trying to stop your tears.

“I was so upset, angry, confused at the doctor, he would save lives constantly but yet he couldn’t save my boyfriend..”

Jake looked up from his palms to see you taking deep breaths.

“Does it get easier?” He asked, glancing over at you.

With a tearful shrug you chuckled. “Over time you realize there was nothing that could stop the inevitable from happing, he alway would say that, annoyed me to death.” You laughed, earning a small chuckle from jake.

“Do you wish you had more time?” Jake asked, earning a nod. “Always, i could imagine what our future could’ve been, he loved kids, told me how he had wanted a big family, scared me half to death.” You both laughed, wiping away tears.

“I wish i could take back what i told the doctor, i was a resident, i said things i never meant..i never got to tell him how sorry i was; a year later Covid happened, he had sent a letter before he passed, telling me how he knew deep down i didn’t mean any of it..” You sniffled, jake tiled his head.

“What doctor?” He asked, You sighed and sat up straighter.

“Doctor adamson; I transferred to ICU not long after, i couldn’t work in the place where i said some bad things.” You motioned for your ICU badge.

Jake sat there and pondered everything with robby.

“I- I did the same with the doctor who treated my girlfriend; would he forgive me after all this time?” Jake asked honestly, making you nod.

“What doctor treated your girlfriend?” You asked, wiping the tears away for a final time.

“Um, dr. robby; he’s sort of been my father figure majority of my life..” Jake explained, looking as you sighed and nodded.

“Robinavitch is a good man, too much like adamson in my opinion.” You both laughed.

“I’m certain he would forgive you in a heartbeat, just if you apologize, don’t be a pussy, hug him; he always looks too grumpy.” You added.

“I think that’s just his face.” Jake joked, earning a laugh from you.

- - - - - - - -

Robby had grown tired of the day, thankful only two more hours before he’d go home once more.

As he sat at central, a tap on his shoulder, he turned expecting an intern or langdon but was surprised to see jake standing behind him with a neutral face.

“Jake, what are you doing here? Is your mom alright?” Robby hopped up, his mind flying fast, jake only shook his head at robby and looked down at his shoes.

“I- i never meant what i said months ago, about not being your friend or my father..” Jake’s words made the central quiet down around the pair.

“Mom had me go to therapy and it wasn’t really working but i talked to someone and they went through the same thing and she never got to tell the doctor how sorry she was and who she never meant any of her words, and i don’t want that to be us...I’m sorry, robby.” Jake apologized.

Robby nodded, his eyes teared up at jake. The two hugged, a feeling of warmth fell over the pair, their relationship now repaired.

“Who did you talk too that made me cry from that?” Robby asked, laughing as he wiped his eyes.

“Someone from ICU, she had a black jacket on.” Jake answered mindlessly.

You had been right about saving robby a bunch of times.

- - - - - - - -

Entering the ICU pod once more you noticed the cluster of workers in the nursing station, you chuckled and walked over.

“What are you all hiding over here?” You asked, another ICU doctor handed you a cup of coffee, your name scribbled on the top.

“Who got the coffee?” You asked, noticing as the staff now were returning to their desks.

“I thought you bought it.” One of the nurses said, sipping on her coffee, letting out a squeal. You tilted your head and placed the coffee down and searched for a note but came up empty handed.

With a sigh, you shrugged and went on about your evening, smiling as night shift began to shuffle in over the hours.

You had finished up in a patient’s room as you walked to your desk to collect your bag, stopping as your tupperware sat on your desk, a post it on the lid.

For always saving my ass, enjoy with the decaf coffee - Dr. Robby

Inside sat store bought cookies, you chuckled at the note and collected your things before exiting through the park.

As you walked through, you saw robby from a far, he had also spotted you by your car, he raised his beer can your way; with a quick glance around and held up your cup before getting into your car.

You shook off the weird fluttering in your stomach and placed the car into drive.

As you drove to your parents you couldn’t help but laugh as wicked played on the radio, maybe you and robby were like glinda and elphaba.

single mom! taglist: @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @snowflames-world

#dr. robby x reader #dr robby x reader #robby robinavitch x reader #michael robby robinavitch x reader #micheal robinavitch x you #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x you #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #robby ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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reidsism · 2 days ago

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➳ DON’T WORRY — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist

spencer reid x fem!reader

in which spencer is having a tough time, and penelope garcia decides to take matters into her own hands, by sending him on a blind date

wc: 3.3k

warnings: none, just wine! all fluff and awkwardness and a shy blind date that’s not really a date but definitely feels like one (also my overabundance of italics)

a/n: my first spencer fic omg hi!!! pls go easy on me, i haven’t written in like three years and im still only on s9 of cm :,) also not beta’d lol

Spencer’s in a slump. He can’t deny it, even with the forced smiles and the constant “I’m fine”s to the team, day after day.

He knows the lack of sleep has manifested itself in his appearance—his undereyes are so dark he looks like he’s been punched, his hair is more unruly than usual, his clothes are rumpled. He’s even been having trouble focusing. Stumbling over his words. Mixing up numbers when he rambles, which isn’t even all that often anymore.

He knows the team’s been concerned, too.

Hotch has been glancing at him more during briefings and keeping an eye on him when on cases.

Frankly, Spencer’s getting a bit annoyed by it all.

And then, when he’s staring through the report on his desk, Penelope strolls into the bullpen like a woman on a mission, planting herself next to him, her hands on her hips with a wide grin.

Spencer sighs. “Garcia—”

She interrupts him. “I have a proposal for you.” She’s not hiding her excitement well; her legs are jumpy, her heels stuttering in place on the linoleum where she stands, and she’s even slightly shaking, positively vibrating with eagerness. Spencer holds in a groan. “I feel like the Good Doctor needs a bit of a pick-me-up. So, I’ve done what I do, and made some calls, and oh,” she grins impossibly wider. “Long story short, you have a date!”

Spencer blanches. “What…?”

Garcia just nods. “I set up a reservation for you two at Gianni’s—it’s this totally adorable little Italian place, you’ll love it.”

He can’t quite make out the rest of her rambling. He feels like his hearing is going again, like his headaches have come back full-force. He coughs, successfully ending Garcia’s rant. She just looks at him, a flicker of worry crossing her bright features before she sighs, taking a seat on the corner of his desk. She sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer, you can’t lie to me, like, at all. I know you,” she wiggles his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “You’re, well… you’re struggling. We can see it, and, hey,” she leans down to smile softly, more reassuring. “You don’t need to treat it like a date if you don’t want to. I just know someone who I think you’ll click with, and I think it’ll be fun. Y’know, to let loose for a bit? Eat some good food, drink some good wine, have a fun, not death-slash-kidnapping-slash-totally-terrible-things-based conversation? I mean, honestly, Reid, when’s the last time you had a normal conversation with someone outside of us?”

And, well… that makes Spencer pause. He thinks—really, genuinely thinks. About two weeks and four days ago, he made a call to a semi-local bookstore to see if they had a first-edition copy of The Outsider by HP Lovecraft in stock. (They didn’t.)

Since then, cases have taken up most of his time. He mostly spends his days working on cases at the BAU or reviewing the files at home.

Garcia knows she has him beat when Spencer hangs his head. She grins and claps her hands like she’s won a prize. “Yay! So, head home before it’s dark out, yeah? I’ll text you the details! It’ll be fun, don’t even worry about it!” She grins before heading back to her office down the hall, and Spencer sighs, putting his head onto his desk.

***

Spencer stands outside of the restaurant for, probably, longer than socially acceptable. He really would’ve rather not come, but then he started feeling guilty. He didn’t want to hurt Garcia’s feelings by refusing her, and he didn’t want to potentially hurt whoever she had set up to meet him by standing them up, even if he had no idea who they were.

The sign over the door says Gianni’s in blinking red neon, and he thinks the establishment seems… painfully fine, from his view into the windows. It’s not overly fancy, not exactly the vibe of a romantic first date. He mentally thanks Garcia for that.

He wrings his hands one final time before pulling open the glass door and stepping inside.

The hostess smiles brightly at him. “Hi! Welcome to Gianni’s,” she glances around him for a moment. “Party of one?” The smile turns to pity.

Spencer purses his lips in a tiny smile. “Uh, no. I have a reservation actually, under, uh…” he blinks. “Under Garcia?”

God, this is awkward. Spencer nibbles on his lower lip, glancing around the room as the hostess takes a look at the book beside the register. She nods. “Of course, sir. Right this way,” she grins, leading him to the back of the dining room, to a small table nestled in the corner right beside a huge window, the lights of the city nightlife shining through the glass.

He takes a seat with a small smile. The hostess says she’ll have someone over to take care of him shortly, and Spencer just nods before looking outside. It’s started to rain slowly tonight, small round droplets pattering the concrete sidewalk. He follows the lines they leave on the glass like a lure.

When the waitress comes over, she simply introduces herself—Sasha. She says she’ll come back once he’s settled, before leaving two laminated menus on the table and, strangely, taking the wine menu with her.

Spencer starts skimming over the menu, lower lip locked between his teeth. He worries the corner of the laminate between his fingers. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this is a real date, after all, Garcia even told him it would just be something casual for him to get his mind off of work for a while. But he can’t help the strange stuttering in his chest when he thinks about it, meeting someone he doesn’t know for dinner. It’s not that he’s worried, no, he trusts Garcia. Even if her methods are, well, blunt, he knows that she knows him well enough not to drop a bomb on his lap in the form of a conversation partner.

He’s lost staring through the laminated cover of the menu when he hears footsteps nearing his little alcove in the corner. He glances up, and, well. Is it dramatic to say his breath catches? He’ll deny it if—or rather, when—Garcia asks.

You’re standing with a slightly nervous smile, the remnants of small raindrops clinging to your hair, with wet streaks shining on your skin. You wave shyly at him. “Hi, uh, are you Spencer?”

Spencer’s standing before you can even finish speaking, the chair scraping against the hardwood. He cringes. “Yeah- yes. Hi,” he smiles.

You extend your hand to shake before pulling it away quickly. He frowns. “Penelope mentioned you don’t really do handshakes,” you chuckle. “Can I sit?” You point at the chair across from him. Spencer nods, sitting back down in his seat, watching as you shed your coat and hang it on the back of the chair, before taking a seat across from him. You smile at him, introducing yourself. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long? I didn’t expect the rain to hit when it did, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh; just the barest exhale from his nose. “Uh, no, don’t worry. I just got here. And I didn’t bring an umbrella either, so,” he grins back at you. “Don’t worry.”

“You said that twice,” you grin, all teeth. Spencer can feel the warmth flush his neck. “Don’t worry,” you echo. “Maybe the rain’ll let up by the time we leave.” You pick up the other menu, so casual, and Spencer watches you like a creature he’s never seen before.

His phone buzzes from its place on the table. You don’t look up from your menu, but Spencer can see a faint smirk on your face with a hint of mischief or mirth in your eyes. He scrambles to look at the screen, only to be met with a text from Garcia.

PG: Is she there yet? Call her pretty! And don’t forget to smile! You’ll be fine, Einstein <3

Spencer sighs, turning his phone off and tucking it into his messenger bag, hanging off the back of his seat. He murmurs a small apology, and you simply shake your head before lowering the menu. “Was it Pen?” At his guilty look, you grin and shake your head. “She was badgering me, too. Don’t worry.”

Spencer can't hold back his tiny smile. “We’re saying that a lot.” You just laugh. Any tension that might’ve lingered over the evening seems to dissipate into thin air.

It doesn’t take long for the waitress, Sasha, to return to the table, this time carrying a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of wine sticking out of the top. Spencer’s eyes widen comically, and you can only laugh as Sasha sets the bucket down. “A 2003 Pinot Gris,” she explains as she takes the bottle out and begins to fill both your glasses.

“I- I didn’t order any wine,” Spencer says, a strange, pathetic tinge to his voice as he helplessly watches his glass get filled. He hopes it’s not too expensive.

Sasha shakes her head. “It was requested when the reservation was made. Miss Garcia said she had your bill covered tonight.” She places the open bottle back into the bucket, the ice shifting around it. “So don’t worry. I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders,” she winks before stalking off.

You both stare at each other for a breath. The silence is broken with your contagious laughter, picking up your glass and raising it for a toast. “Well then. To Pen!”

Spencer grins, slowly raising his glass to gently clink it against yours. “To Garcia.”

Conversation flows naturally, more easily than Spencer had expected. Even when he went on an unintentional ramble about how fettuccine alfredo isn't really Italian, and how the word “pesto” literally means “to crush”, and how Pinot Gris is a French wine, not Italian like Pinot Grigio, even though they’re basically the same thing, and how a wine like this tends to pair well with pasta because of its dry, acidic profile that can cut through thick, creamy sauces.

When Spencer cut himself off to take a full, proper breath, he freezes. You have the sweetest smile on your face, your head resting on your hand like you’re really listening, like you’re actually interested in his long, unnecessary rambling. He takes a gulp of his wine and cringes. God, he hates wine.

When the food gets to the table, you grin at him. “I thought fettuccine alfredo wasn’t really Italian?” It’s a tease, yes, but Spencer doesn’t hear a trace of malice in your voice.

He shrugs, twirling some onto his fork. “I mean, it was technically invented in Rome, but it’s not the same. This version of fettuccine alfredo is an Americanized recreation from 1920s Hollywood,” he says, taking a bite. “Still, that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of your own food. You grin at each other across the table like teenagers with a secret. It’s nice. Comfortable.

“So,” you start, pouring the last bit of wine, splitting the amount between your glass and his. “Aside from your impressive knowledge of the wine menu, what do you do when you’re not reading about Italian cuisine?”

Spencer shrugs, setting his fork down. “I, uh, I read. A lot.”

You smile. “Yeah, you seem like a reader. Anything that’s not like, work or Italian food-related, though? I’m sure you have hobbies outside of… well, the obvious.”

He nods. “I guess. I’m kind of a nerd about a lot of things, honestly. Not that that’s a hobby,” Spencer clarifies, his shoulders relaxing at your chuckle. “I’m really into old, out-of-print books. You know, the ones that—”

“The ones that cost a small fortune and have that weird, dusty smell?” You cut in, simpering. Your eyes crinkle. Spencer finds it painfully sweet.

He smiles. “Exactly,” he exhales a laugh before taking a sip of his wine. “I like to collect them. It’s kind of… calming, I guess.”

“That’s really cool,” you grin. “Y’know, I used to be super into photography when I was younger. Like, just… taking random pictures of random things.”

Spencer tilts his head. “Really? Like a hobby, or—?”

“No, no,” you laugh. “Just random moments. Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not looking, y’know?” And if there’s a part of Spencer’s heart that flutters in understanding, that whispers “you, you, you,” like an echo in his chest? Well, that’s between him and his internal organs. “Anyway, I haven’t even touched a camera in years.”

“Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Life got busy, and now it just feels kind of silly to start again. I do kind of miss it, though, I guess. The idea of capturing something, like… pure. Unfiltered? That’s still pretty appealing.”

Spencer smiles softly. “Don’t worry,” and oh, there’s a warmth in his gut that has nothing to do with the wine. “You still have time.”

“You think so?” There’s a far-off, wistful look of something not unlike hope that swims in your eyes.

He nods, and Spencer wonders if it’s too early to consider buying you a gift.

By the time you’re done, you’ve shared a small plate of tiramisu between you both. The rain outside the window hasn’t let up; if anything, it looks like it’s only coming down harder now. You and Spencer are still mindlessly chatting as you stand, and he helps you put your coat on. You look back at him and smile like a fool.

You walk outside the restaurant, and Spencer stops at the hostess’ station at the front, slipping a fifty to Sasha, and smiling softly as she balks.

The rain is pouring. You groan, “I took the metro here,” you say, raising your voice over the sounds of fat droplets hitting the sidewalk.

Spencer nods, tugging his coat tighter around himself. “Me too,” he glances towards the street. “We can get a cab?”

You nod, watching as he rushes into the rain, out from the cover of the awning, to wave down one of the yellow cars driving past. He beckons you over as one slows to a stop at the side of the road.

You follow Spencer, sliding into the backseat behind him and sitting beside him as the driver turns. “Where to?”

Spencer clears his throat. “Uh, two stops, if that’s alright?” The driver simply nods, and you tell him your address, a faint nervous tremble in your voice.

The ride to your apartment is almost silent, save for quiet murmuring from the backseat. Like you two can’t help the conversation, like you can’t bear not talking to each other for even five minutes.

When the cab pulls up to your apartment complex, you grin at Spencer, about to speak, when he climbs out of the car behind you. He mutters to the driver that he’ll only take a minute. “What’re you doing?” you ask, looking up at him in confusion.

Spencer shrugs, leading you to the doorway to the building. “I wouldn’t be a very good date if I left you to walk to your door alone.” He says it so simply, so easily, it almost shakes him. He can’t believe how nervous he was, not that long ago, refusing to even think of this dinner as anything more than a way to get his mind off work.

You grin widely up at him, letting yourself inside and holding the door open for him. “I suppose you’re right,” you lead him to the elevator. “You wouldn’t be a very good date. But I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you tease, pressing the button for your floor—eight. Spencer tucks that information away. “Don’t worry.”

You wink, and Spencer can’t hold back his soft laughter. He’s quiet on the elevator ride, too busy just looking at you. You’ve managed to shatter every one of his expectations and preconceived notions in no more than a couple of hours. It’s strange, but welcome. You’re welcome, now. Always.

When the elevator opens, and you lead the way to your apartment door, you turn around to face him fully. “Thank you,” you smile softly, looking up at him. “I had a really good evening, Spencer. Thanks for not running off.”

He purses his lips, smiling back at you. “I had a really good evening, too.” His hands start to wring again. “And, I wouldn’t have run off. Don’t worry.”

You chuckle, a glint in your eyes. “Well, still. Thanks. For the company, tonight. And the conversation. And all of the new facts I’ve just learned about Italian cuisine.”

Spencer blushes. He shrugs, his hands moving to clutch at the strap of his messenger bag. “Glad to provide newfound knowledge, then,” he chuckles.

And before he can overthink it or second-guess himself, Spencer bends slightly, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss to your cheek. Your eyes go wide for just a moment before warmth floods your cheeks, and a grin that surpasses even sunshine itself takes over your face. You inhale shakily and unlock your door. You keep your eyes on Spencer as you step inside. “Thanks again,” you breathe. “I’ll um, I’ll text you?”

Spencer nods before beginning to walk backwards toward the elevator. He wishes you a good night and watches you slowly close your door.

He doesn’t step onto the elevator until he hears your door lock, and then he’s rushing back outside, into the pouring monsoon, before throwing himself into the backseat of the taxi.

The driver just laughs at him, at his cheeks all blotchy and red. Spencer clears his throat and awkwardly gives him his address.

He’s inside his apartment and toeing off his shoes when he realizes he never got your number.

Spencer freezes. He yanks his phone out of his bag with all the decorum of a deer in the road, and notices the abundance of missed texts from Garcia.

PG: How’s dinner going?? Is it awkward??? Did you say anything weird yet????

PG: Guess things are going well!! Don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me!!

PG: And DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE WINE!!!!!!!

PG: Oh I’m SO excited to see your face tomorrow, Reid! I told you this was a good idea!

PG: Here’s her number, in case you were too stunned and totally in love with her to ask for it ;)

Spencer sighs, grateful for the inclusion of your number that saves him the awkward embarrassment of asking for it. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he adds it to his contacts, and types out a quick message. He sends it before he can talk himself out of it, and leaves his phone on the couch as he heads into his room to change.

Spencer: Hi, this is Spencer. Have a good night, and thanks again for dinner! It was really enjoyable. Hope you don’t mind me getting your number from Garcia, I only just noticed we hadn’t exchanged contact info :)

If Garcia ever asked, Spencer would deny it, but he runs out of his bedroom with his shirt still in his hand when he hears his phone buzz on the couch.

You: hey spencer! you have a good night too, dinner was super fun. you’re a fun conversationalist. and if you hadn’t gotten my number from pen, i would’ve asked her for yours, so don’t worry :)

He grins down at his phone before turning it off and pulling his shirt on. He brushes his teeth with a smile on his lips, crawls into bed with his face sore and his cheeks cramping, and begins to fall asleep to the sound of heavy rain pattering on his window.

It’s not until he’s curled up between the sheets, half asleep, that he realizes he hasn’t thought about work or cases all night.

Well then. Thank you, Penelope Garcia.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fic #reid ✧˖*°࿐#mine ✧˖*°࿐

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bjlipss · 3 days ago

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— 00:11, worms, dreams, and other emergencies;

your daughter asks wild, hilarious questions neither you nor nanami can answer—until she asks the one that matters most.

1. “how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

the morning is barely happening. the sun hasn’t even fully made up its mind about rising. you’re in the kitchen, groggy and squinting at the cereal box like it personally wronged you. nanami’s walking in from the shower, towel around his neck, and your daughter is already up—too awake—swinging her legs at the kitchen table, biting into toast like she’s lived three lives.

then she says it.

“how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

you stop mid-pour, nearly drowning your cereal.

“what?” you croak.

“like—when i’m asleep, everything’s weird, but also it feels real. and maybe when i’m awake, this is the fake part, and i’m actually sleeping in the dream world.”

nanami stops in the doorway. “it’s too early for existential dread.”

she blinks innocently. “what’s dread?”

“something you feel when you realize your five-year-old might be more philosophical than you,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, but she doesn’t catch it.

“huh?”

“nothing,” you both say at the same time, glancing at each other.

she purses her lips in confusion, much like her father does when he is deep in thought.

you set the cereal down slowly. “sweetie, dreams are like… brain movies. they’re fun, or strange, but they’re not real. this is the real world.”

“but how do you know?” she says, wide-eyed. “what if you’re in my dream right now?”

“i—” you start, then shut your mouth.

she leans in, whispering: “what if i made you both up?”

nanami sits down, rubbing his temples. “this is worse than the time she asked if the moon had feelings.”

she shrugs and goes back to munching her toast as if nothing happened.

“if i wake up and you disappear,” she adds between bites, “i’ll miss you.”

you stare at her, deeply unsettled, while nanami wordlessly pushes the coffee toward you like a peace offering.

2. “do worms know they’re worms?”

it’s early spring, the kind where everything still smells a little like mud and thawing grass.

the three of you are walking home from a nearby café, your daughter holding both your and nanami’s hands, swinging her legs with each step. puddles glitter on the pavement, and the clouds look like someone wrung out the sky.

she suddenly stops, tugging your hand. “look!! worm!!”

she crouches dramatically on the path, face inches away from a wriggling earthworm.

“sweetheart,” nanami says, tone wary, “don’t put your face that close to—”

“shhh,” she hisses, waving a tiny hand. “i’m listening.”

“to the worm?” you ask, pausing beside her.

she nods solemnly. “he’s on a mission.”

you squat down beside her. the worm is, in fact, just trying to not die. “what kind of mission?”

“i think he’s going to his worm job. maybe he’s late.” she tilts her head. “do you think worms know they’re worms?”

you blink. “um… what?”

“do they know? do they wake up and think, ‘i’m a worm and i have worm things to do today’?” she glances up at you, completely serious.

“i don’t… think they wake up,” you say slowly. “they don’t really sleep like we do. or have—alarm clocks.”

“but maybe he has a worm watch,” she whispers.

nanami, still standing with his hands in his coat pockets, sighs. “then we’re probably interrupting his commute.”

she gasps, scandalized. “we have to help him get home!” she starts scooping up the worm with a stick, incredibly gentle for someone who once bit a crayon in half out of rage.

so the three of you spend ten minutes hunched over wet pavement, relocating a single worm into the safety of the grass like it’s a royal procession. at one point, nanami mutters something about “early retirement” and “this is not how i pictured fatherhood,” but he’s crouched beside you, doing it anyway.

an older couple passes by, gives you a look.

you pretend not to see it.

your daughter waves at the worm. “good luck at your job!”

3. “if i can’t see my brain, how do i know it’s there?”

it’s bedtime, and your daughter is nestled under the covers, her favorite stuffed animal tucked under her arm. the room is quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of the nightlight you’ve had to replace twice now because it always ends up in her bed somehow. she snuggles into the pillows, a slight frown tugging at her lips as she stares up at the ceiling.

“if i can’t see my brain,” she asks, her voice unusually serious for such a late hour, “how do i know it’s there?”

you pause mid-yawn, your eyes blinking as you try to come up with a way to answer. nanami glances at you, but he looks just as stumped.

“well,” you begin, “your brain is inside your head. it controls everything you do.”

“but i can’t see it,” she insists, her little voice quiet but firm. “so how do i know it’s really there? what if it’s just pretending?”

you look over at nanami, who seems to be thinking just as hard. this is no ordinary five-year-old. you feel like you’re about to enter into an existential debate with a toddler.

“um…” nanami sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s like… trust. you can’t see the air, but you know it’s there because you breathe it.”

she stares at him, processing the comparison for a moment. “so… i can’t see the air either, but i know it’s in my lungs?”

“yes,” you say, nodding vigorously as though you’ve figured it out. “exactly. and your brain is the same way.”

she thinks about this, her little face scrunching up as she turns it over in her mind. then, without warning, she turns to you with a completely different thought.

“but what if my brain is just hiding?” she asks, her voice dripping with suspicion, as though your brain is the biggest trickster in the world, sneaking around behind her back.

you and nanami look at each other, unsure if you should be worried or impressed with how deeply she’s thought about this.

+ 1. “will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?”

it’s a quiet night. the house is calm, and the only sound in the air is the soft ticking of the clock and the low hum of the refrigerator in the background. your daughter has crawled into your lap, her hair soft and smelling faintly of lavender shampoo, her favorite scent. she curls up there as if nothing in the world matters more than the security of this moment.

you’re about to speak when she lifts her head from your chest and looks up at you both, her little face uncharacteristically serious.

“will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?” she asks, her voice soft but full of an emotion you hadn’t expected.

there’s a weight to her question that catches you off guard. nanami pauses, his hand stilling in her hair as he looks down at her, then at you.

you both know that this is one of those questions that goes beyond the usual curiosity. it’s the first sign of a child thinking about the future, about change, about the passage of time.

you swallow thickly, your heart tightening at the thought of her growing up. you lean down and kiss the top of her head, your voice gentle but firm.

“we will always love you,” you say, the words feeling more important than they ever have before. “no matter how old you get. even when you’re grown-up.”

“even when i’m a really old grown-up?” she asks, her voice filled with that same curiosity, the kind that comes from wanting reassurance.

“especially then.” nanami says, his tone unusually soft as he brushes her hair from her face, his voice a low promise.

“you’ll always be our little girl, baby.” you add, your heart full as you wrap your arms around her a little tighter.

she smiles then, a small, peaceful smile, before she snuggles into your arms, content for the night. no more questions. no more worries.

for now, the world is perfect.

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daylightmidnights · 9 hours ago

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Okayyyyyy I'm finally freeeee. Now I can rant about this masterpiece as much as I want.

First late me start with...... NIALL AND PHOEBE ??? Fuck yes! I'd have loved Niall to cause Harry some trouble but since Harry seems to trust him enough to appoint him as the main guard, he's not a threat. Plus I've come to the conclusion that I kinda like him so I wouldn't want him to suffer from anymore jealousy right now (not saying I wouldn't love for him to be jealous in future tho 👀). Anyway I am happy for Phoebe, she's the sweetest and deserves everything she wants. She and Niall would get married and have 10 kids and they'd play with Harry and yn's kids and then two of them would fall in love with each other and then you can write a story about that (excuse me...got carried away).

And I want to see Niall being goofy with her infront of yn. I want them three to be friends aaahhhhh I'm such a whore for good unlikely friendships. Like it's so mind boggling when you think about it. Yn being lower class and Phoebe and Niall technically being upper class than her but she's gonna be the queen and both of them gives her so much respect without a question about her social position. But now she's above everyone else and yn's just trying to exist with that fact. She's still the same at her core though so it must be so hard for her to adjust in this setting. All of this must be so fascinating to her in a way. Yeah I just want her to say 'fuck it' and be best buddies with Phoebe and Niall and like play chess with them or something on the bedroom floor lmao

And her first kiss was Lane? Bloody LANE? Eeesshhh I'd have wanted someone from their slum or something who had a crush on her and someone she kind of liked to be her first kiss. But Lane does seem perfect. Because not only is he her closest friend but Harry also kinda doesn't like him? So when he learns that his royal smug ass wasn't her first kiss he's gonna lose his shit and when he learns that stupid LANE was her first kiss he might have to take 10 days long cold bath to cool himself down. Hope we get to see his reaction to this information. Pretty please?

But as much as I want king Harry to suffer I'm starting to like him. I loved him in this chapter. Loved hiw sincere he was with that whole situation. He went and brought them back to the castle himself. And kinda felt guilty? That she and her family had to go through that despite it being his responsibility to take care of her and her family. And I have to admit that even I didn't like the disrespect towards him by Lord Mayor. What was that guy thinking? Harry is THE KING. Do you have no fear for your life Mr Mayor? Your stupidity made me go "Yes Harry go and behead him and I will hand you the sword" and I don't like being violent Mr Mayor. Leave my girl alone. She doesn't deserve all this shit. You people don't like her she knows that but she is still trying to be nice and fit in. She's taking those fucking etiquette class even though Harry gave her choice not to. She's trying okay? Leave her be. Hate that guy hate him hate him hate him

And god forbid if he does something with the brooch I'm gonna kill him myself (and I don't like violence so this is serious to me). Because that's Harry's mother's brooch that he gave to his wife-to-be, someone who he selected just to mess with his people? HELLO? IT'S HIS MOTHER'S!!! This is a big deal. Why isn't she freaking out more? Does she not understand the gravity of this? He's giving you his mother's things, his mother, probably the only person he truly loved and cherished. It's gotta be a big, huge deal.

Poor Harry lost his mother so young. Seems like his father mistreated her. No wonder he is like this. He probably hated his father. I'm sure of one thing though, he won't be like his father. He won't use yn as he pleases, won't neglect her or mistreat her. He already cares for her very much and even though the purpose of bringing her into this was not so great he's still looking out for her, protecting her and sees her as his queen. I'm pretty sure once he actually falls in love with her, he's gonna be a soft warm cuddly whiney mess when they're together alone. And I can't wait for that day. He's gonna cherish her.

The bath scene was very sexy and I loved that he was commanding but not forcing her to do anything. Even when he teaches her things or challenges her beliefs regarding God or her fear, he doesn't push his opinion on her. He tells her things and lets her decide for herself. Which I think is very wise and thoughtful. And it works too. She makes her own decision about what she wants. It's a progress. He is so keen on enlightening her about various things. I hope he teaches her more about other things too. About their kingdom and politics and other stuff. He also said he's gonna take her with him next time. She's probably never travelled anywhere before. So maybe they can explore place together when they go somewhere.

And last but NOT FUCKING THE LEAST.....they finally KISSED. Yessssssss!!!! Bet Harry was all drunk on her lips afterwards. Couldn't think straight, only wanting to kiss her again. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh I'm dizzy thinking about it. And they're gonna share his bed from now on. Can't wait to see what happens when they're sleeping next to each other. I don't think I can wait for the next chapter. Give me now! Gimme gimme gimme!!!!!!

I wish I could get inside your brain and see what's gonna happen next. This world you created has sucked me in and now I can't get out of it and don't want to. I don't want this to end. I'd love 100 chapters of this. Thank you so much Guru. This is so so good. Your writing is so good I can't even explain. Waiting for it gets tough but it's always worth it. Every chapter so far has been incredible 🤌

I love this so much. I love you so much more. Thank you for all you do. You're absolutely amazing! ❤️

[3] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 3 Word Count: 8,749

Ch. 3 Warning: Harsh physical treatment, descriptions of extreme poverty, discrimination, humiliation, some light petting, inspection kink (light), corruption kink, mention of parental death (let me know if I missed any!)

It's Good to Be King Masterlist

. .

Y/n had learned that the king had been called away to tend to a minor land ownership dispute in a village that was a day's ride away. He'd be gone for five days as long as there were no unexpected postponements.

When Phoebe told her, Y/n couldn't pinpoint exactly why she felt so wistful. She knew he was a cold, bad-mannered person, so she shouldn't have expected him to speak to her about his departure beforehand. But to feel the tight stretch in her chest that he didn't tell her himself… that was perplexing.

Their interactions over the last few weeks she'd been at the castle had been not more than fleeting. They'd had dinner together a few times, and one evening he went to her room with a gift for her. He didn't let her open it while he was present, but before he left, he placed his hand on her hip when she was wearing only her chemise and said, "This, I much prefer. I shall have another fig tart sent to you this evening."

He squeezed at her skin, his fingers indenting into her newly very slightly softer hip. She understood him to mean the small bit of weight she'd put on was what he preferred.

The gift he left her was a beautiful gold brooch bearing the kingdom's royal coat of arms carved into the center, adorned with sparkling purple, red, and amber jewels. On the back, it was engraved with the name of Harry's deceased mother, the late Queen.

She forced a smile as Phoebe poured hot, fragrant Ceylon into her teacup. "He'll be gone five days? The wedding ceremony is in two weeks. Let's hope nothing delays their return."

"Two weeks already is it?" Phoebe said, lifting the porcelain lid from her breakfast platter. "Are you scared?"

She nodded. "Yes. But I've no choice. My family finally has everything they've ever wanted here. My sister, Dell, cried last week when she tasted the citrus soufflé we all had for dessert. I can't do anything to ruin this. Even if he is the devil."

A dashing devil.

"I believe he's fond of you. He's a cad, but I've seen him look at you when you're not paying attention. Everyone has."

Y/n smiled down at her plate. She only pretended not to be paying attention, but she knew his gaze on the curve of her neck and brushing at her lips when she'd look the other direction. Crude, maybe, but he did show her something about her body she'd not soon forget.

In fact, it had come quite in handy once her bedroom was quiet and she was settled into her down blankets with a book full of wanton stories in her lap. The guilt she'd felt the first few times she'd reenacted what he'd shown her soon turned into a craving she daydreamed of at the most inappropriate times.

Just as then, while Phoebe stood by watching as she ate her breakfast.

"Have you eaten?" Y/n asked.

"Not yet."

"Would you like a biscuit with butter?" Y/n placed a biscuit on a small dish and gestured at the chair across from her for Phoebe to sit.

"It's meant for you, Y/n."

"Of course it's meant for me, but I'd like you to have some. You're my friend. Please, sit with me."

Phoebe offered a gentle smile and pulled the chair out to sit. "Thank you."

Y/n had begun offering some of her food to Phoebe during the mornings when no one else was around. Her friend always denied the initial offer but eventually wound up giving in. In fact, it seemed to be easier to get her to sit with Y/n by the day.

She'd also begun taking etiquette classes twice each week in preparation for the wedding and being seen in public with the king. The council advised that she needed the extra work. Harry left it up to Y/n whether or not she'd like to go. She decided to take the classes but quickly regretted that choice. The governess was harsh and easily angered.

Y/n had the feeling that her teacher didn't like her one bit, despite her best efforts to charm her. In fact, she got the idea that not many appreciated her presence in the castle at all. So she often preferred to stay in her room or her sisters'.

"Have you ever kissed a boy before?" Phoebe asked as she dotted the edge of her lip with her napkin.

"I have. But it was just with a friend because I was curious. And only once."

"Was it Lane? The one you told me about who likes his drink?"

She nodded. "Yes. But I'm sure he liked it more than I did. What about you?"

Phoebe smiled shyly and looked behind herself toward the door, as if anyone could hear them through the heavy, solid wood. "I might have last night…"

Y/n sat her fork down and leaned forward. "What do you mean? With whom?"

"You swear to not tell anyone?"

"Phoebe, you know I would never tell anyone your secrets. Was it Niall? It was Niall, wasn't it?"

The look on her friend's face when she spoke the name of the guard told Y/n everything she needed to know. She'd had a suspicion about the pair a couple of weeks prior when she spotted Niall winking at the girl, and the way her face shaded in pink was a clue as to how she felt about it.

A sudden knock on the door had both girls looking at one another in surprise. Phoebe quickly stood and walked toward the door with Y/n right behind. When she pulled the door open, there, standing in her doorway, was the Lord Mayor, and two men with him.

"Miss Y/n Y/l/n, you will come with us at once," he said, looking behind Phoebe at the queen-to-be.

"What is this about? Is the king okay?" Y/n asked, placing her hand over the broach he'd given her.

"You and your family are not welcome here in the castle any longer."

"What? I don't understand! Is there not—"

One of the men stepped in, pushing Phoebe to the side, and grabbed Y/n roughly by her arm. "Come!"

As she was pulled away from her room, the new guard, Niall, stopped the procession before they got too far. "Halt!"

"Move out of my way at once, guard!"

"My loyalty lies with the king and his orders. Unhand Her Majesty at once!"

"The King's duties fall on me when he's away. This is my command. Move to the side."

"Then you leave me no choice but to send word to King Styles to notify him of your trespass."

Y/n felt her arm yanked as she was dragged down the stairs. She screamed when another set of hands was on her middle, pushing, and then she spotted her sisters, parents, and grandmother already near the entrance, surrounded by men.

"Let me go! You needn't grab at me!" The men didn't listen. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, she was pushed until her knees and hands hit the stone floor just off the carpet. But she had barely a moment to take a breath when she was again being grabbed and hauled upward until she was standing next to her mother.

The Lord Mayor stepped in front of her and reached forward. Y/n gasped when she felt him yank at her dress and then realized he'd pulled the brooch off. "Take them away."

Niall called out before Y/n and her family were directed to load into the horse cart that had been waiting for them at the front of the castle. "King Styles will receive word tomorrow. Do not fear, madam."

Two guards hung on the sides of the cart, and a driver at the front controlled the two horses pulling it, as Y/n and her family clung to the wooden benches inside so they didn't fall. People stood and watched as the cart was pulled out of the castle gates and toward the slums of their overcrowded rookery.

"What's happened, Y/n? What did you do?" Her mother bellowed dramatically.

"I don't know what happened. This wasn't the king's orders."

"Those men were atrocious. Grabbed my toast right from my hand!"

The townsfolk were staring, laughing, and some spat as they passed them by. She was far less worried about her family's reputation than she was about the rude behavior of the middle and noble classes. Y/n may never hold influence or power, but she was a human, and she deserved fundamental decency. She'd always believed everyone did.

Until then. Those people mocking her were the lowest of the low.

Being carted out of the castle in a buggy meant for livestock had been done on purpose. It was meant to be a spectacle. It was meant to humiliate. But it only made her angry. For the first time since she'd met the king, she understood him, in part. Understood his need to cause a stir and disrupt the comfortably spoiled bourgeoisie. Now she understood why he didn't like any of them.

. .

"Your Majesty, I have an urgent message from the main castle guard. Y/n Y/l/n and her family have been removed from the castle without your permission. The Lord Mayor took it upon himself to act as regent in your stead and made the decision to banish them from the castle grounds. Your presence is requested at once to deal with the matter."

Harry had never been so furious in all his life. He'd led an army in war and dealt with enemy soldiers who spat in his face, and had never been treated with such a lack of respect as this. He'd only been gone for two days, and already he had his own men conspiring behind his back. It was in direct defiance of Harry, and that just would not do.

He had no choice but to abandon his purpose and return right away. The land dispute matter could wait. Taking care of the Lord Mayor and everyone involved could not. He bid farewell to his company and left the moment he mounted his steed with his men in tow.

A day's ride across the expanse of Thornekeep and the surrounding villages was tiresome. Harry had been looking forward to more rest before he was to return, but now he had to forgo the gin and the hearty meal that was being prepared for him so he could deal with the unruly cast of characters he'd left in charge of the castle in his stead.

If he'd been a hair more cruel than he was, he would have forced the horses to push through until exhaustion. But he relied on the steeds to safely give him transport, and rest was necessary for the animals, just as it was for him and his men.

And as upset as he was about being disrespected, he was more concerned about Y/n than anything. She was his responsibility, and it was no secret that she and her family were not happily welcomed into their new roles. But he certainly hadn't expected this.

The following day, when he arrived to town just outside the castle, it felt as though everyone suddenly retreated back into their homes. As if even the townspeople knew they'd done something wrong. The vendors and workers averted their gazes.

Pointing in the direction of the town square near where the Lord Mayor lived, Harry looked at two of his men who were riding with him. "The Lord Mayor, go and collect him. Bring him to the private chambers closet off the long gallery. Make him stay there and wait for me. You," he said as he looked at Fred, "Get the covered stagecoach and have Alfred drive it directly to Y/n's home. We will be bringing them back to the castle at once."

Harry and the guard traveling with him rode deeper into the town, where the slums sprawled with wet, muddy roads, buckets filled with slop, decrepit living quarters, and street drunkards. There, the people stared intently. They stopped in their tracks and watched as the king rode by on his healthy, strong steed, with his armoured guard behind him. It was the first time he'd ever gone into the rookeries, where the poor lived and worked (if they could find work).

"You, sir!" Harry shouted at a man carrying what looked to be a heavy sack over his shoulder. The man stopped and narrowed his eyes at the king. "Can you tell me in which direction Y/n Y/l/n lives?"

"Oy…" The man dropped the sack at his feet and looked around himself. "I know 'o no such name."

"She's a woman of 20. Has a father called Peter and her mother Lettice."

"Peter and Lettice… Peter Y/l/n…" He rubbed at his chin and chewed the inside of his cheek. "I might know it."

Harry sighed. He knew the spiel. The man was expecting some kind of payment for information. Directing his horse to step closer to the man, Harry looked down at him with a frown and could smell the stench coming from him. "If you know it, tell me then. If you do, I'll let you continue on your journey unharmed."

The man shrugged. It was worth a shot. "Across from the mill. There's a graveyard at the top o'the lane. Four or five tenements down. B'be careful o'the pigs. They've not eaten."

The smell, as Harry traveled deeper into the overcrowded and filthy streets, was almost unbearable. Every five or ten yards was a bucket overflowing with excrement. He'd always known these places existed, but to see it with his own eyes (and to smell it)… he was appalled. The kind of squalor the destitutes lived in was barbarous.

When they arrived at the rundown tenement across from the mill, Harry jumped from the horse and gave the lead to his guard before sloshing through the filth to step up onto the rotted boards of the platform. He knocked on the door with the loose frame and stepped back as someone opened it up right away.

"Who's that?" The old woman stumbled back a couple of steps and clutched her hand over her heart. "The king! The king is here!"

"M'lady, I'm looking for the Y/l/n family. Are they here in this tenement?" Harry held the door open and stepped inside. The main room was dingy and damp and smelled of stale food and unwashed bodies.

"By god!" The woman sat down on the benchtop and inhaled deeply like she'd been given the scare of her life. "The king is here!"

A young man came down the stairs and looked from Harry to the old woman. "We can 'ear ya! Enough!" The man removed his floppy hat and lowered his head. "Your Highness. To what do we owen'ya th'honor?"

"I'm looking for the Y/l/n family. I've heard they live here."

"Right y'are. Lemme find 'em."

Harry scraped his eyes around the space, and while it wasn't as filthy as things appeared from outside, it was unfit for any human. The woman gasped as she pushed herself to stand and mumbled something he couldn't hear, nor did he care much. She seemed to be half out of it, gin drunk perhaps.

The ceiling was caved in at the side of the common area, where it appeared there was some kind of unworking, rusted stove. The wooden floors were soft under his feet, and the walls stained with moisture.

"King Harry?"

He turned quickly when he heard Y/n's voice. She made her way down the stairs, followed by her three younger sisters. "Y/n. I've come for you and your family. I received word about the situation and came as quickly as I could."

She clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. "Yes. It was humiliating. But we're used to being treated as such."

"You and your family are to gather your things quickly. A carriage will be around soon to bring you back to the castle."

"We were told we were not welcome there."

"The Lord Mayor will be dealt with forthwith. But what he says is irrelevant. My word is final. You will come back to the castle, and we are to proceed as before."

Y/n nodded slowly and motioned for her sisters to go back up to their quarters. "That is fine. Would you like to come up?"

She could see it in his posture and the expression on his face that he was not well in that room. The stench could get to anyone, but at least in the small space where they lived, it was tidy and much less foul. So he followed behind her up to their floor, and she let him into their room.

And it was indeed just a room. Pallets of cloth and feather, and straw were strewn over the floor where he assumed they slept. In the corner was a bench piled with random things: cups, bowls, sacks, a couple of books, a lantern, a tin of fish. In another corner, there was a tin bucket full of charred things, the wall behind it black from soot. He imagined it was their source of heat, like a fireplace.

Lettice and Peter were already standing in wait, their faces like those of young children awaiting permission to play with their new things. They bowed their heads. "Your Majesty," Peter said.

"Nan," Y/n said softly as she bent down to put her hand on her grandmother's shoulder. She'd been sitting in a chair, asleep. The old woman startled and looked at Y/n like she was some kind of horrible intruder.

"Nan, look…" Y/n motioned toward Harry, and the old woman blinked her eyes slowly.

"We're saved? He's come for us. Thank heavens!"

There weren't many things to gather. Harry hadn't imagined their living space as such. He figured a multi-room flat, nothing extravagant, but at least a home with space to cook and use the WC. But there was none of that. No running water, no private space, and no comfortable things to lie upon at night. How could anyone live like that? And that there were seven people all crammed into that room? He couldn't imagine it.

There was a double knock on the door before it was opened. Everyone turned to look as a young man stepped inside. "What's this then? It's true!" He grinned at Y/n and then lowered his head. "Your Majesty."

Y/n stepped in next to the man and put her hand on his arm. "This is my good friend Lane. He was there with me, the day you came to me."

Harry looked the dirty fellow up and down. "Yes, I remember Lane."

He watched his wife-to-be whisper something to the young man, and then Lane turned to look at her with a brief nod as he ran his hand over her wrist. There was no time to challenge what had just happened or to ask what was said and why someone else was touching her like that when Alfred had finally arrived with the covered carriage.

Once Y/n and her family were loaded into the carriage, Harry and his guard led the way back to the castle. He'd seen a lot of things in his life, but he had not been prepared to see the rookeries up close like that. He'd seen the outskirts of impoverished neighborhoods in other kingdoms and towns and but never in his own. Shock might be too heavy of a word for the way it made him feel, but it was close.

He ordered three footmen to take Y/n's family to their quarters and give them whatever they would like to eat (as well as draw each of them a bath) while he went with Y/n and Phoebe to bring her to his chambers. "You'll stay in my room from here on. Your room will still be open for you, but I'm not satisfied for you to be there all night alone."

Y/n was still struggling to wrap her mind around the events of the last few days. Niall had told her to expect the king to come and get her, but she doubted that he really would. She imagined it was easier for the king to take a more suitable wife. A woman used to that life with a higher status. Someone the proletariat would prefer.

She was thankful that he did, though. She'd gotten used to some of the small luxuries (and big) that the royal castle afforded them all. Mostly, she missed her privacy and the comfy bed.

"Have her wardrobe brought over, a warm bath drawn, and whatever she'd like to eat," Harry said to Phoebe, who quickly got to work.

Y/n kept quiet as she watched the king open up his balcony and drape the lace curtains to the side before he poured two glasses of gin and handed her one.

He gulped his portion in one go as she sniffed her glass. "Go on. Drink it. You need it more than I do. Feel free to have as much as you like."

"Thank you."

"You should not have to thank me. This should never have happened. I will deal with the Lord Mayor and see what kind of punishment the council allows. I just ask that if you leave this room, have Phoebe and Niall with you."

She nodded. "Of course."

"I've made arrangements for a formal announcement of our engagement. Day after tomorrow, we will have a public appearance to announce to the whole of the kingdom that you will be the Queen Consort. No one can then deny that I've selected my wife, as it seems they've all done."

He paced toward the open balcony and put his hands on his hips. "I will be gone til late. I have much to do. Please use my room as if it were your own."

Y/n eyed the bed and then shifted her gaze back to the king as he stepped toward his door. "I'm grateful that you came to get us. I'm indebted to you, My Lord."

He sniffed and looked down at his feet, hand on the knob the door. "Yes. You are."

. .

Y/n woke up to the sound of pouring water. Slowly opening her eyes, she found Harry sitting next to the fire, sipping hot tea and reading something intently as a man stood over the large tub in the king's room. She couldn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, but it wasn't long after her warm bath and the big meal she'd eaten.

She wasn't sure what to think exactly. The last few days had been quite dramatic and unusual, then with the king barging into their meager home to bring them back to the castle... He'd returned for her when he didn't need to. He had no allegiance to her or her family, so it was a bit of a surprise that he seemed so insistent that she come back with him.

"My Lord. Your bath is ready."

The king looked toward the man and pushed himself up from his chair. "You are dismissed."

Y/n blinked and watched as the man left the room, and Harry stepped toward the bath to touch the water. He looked tired. She wondered what time he'd returned to the room. When he began to remove his clothes, she thought to look away, imagining he didn't realize she was already awake.

But she remained still and kept her eyes on his frame until he was stark naked, despite her internal scolding to look away. The urge to keep watching was much stronger than her polite reasoning to avert her eyes. His body appeared to be that of a hard worker, with solid muscle and a sturdy build. It had never been a doubt in her mind that he was well-formed, and now she had proof as she watched flexing, dense muscles as he stepped into his tub.

"You may join me, if you like."

His voice startled her. She hadn't realized he was aware that she was awake, watching him. Pushing herself to sit up, she pulled the blanket to cover her state of undress. He'd seen her before in just a chemise, but she still had the sense that it was wrong to bare herself to any man like that.

"Don't be shy with me. I've already tasted and smelled the juice of your quim and you've just seen me naked. Come."

Y/n gulped at the memory of Harry's hands on her body as she let out uncontrollable noises when he'd touched her. Then the aftermath of the forbidden shame as she watched him taste her offering. The lingering thought of the way he'd jutted his pink tongue out to lick at his fingers had her surging with heat.

"My King… It's improper—"

"Now don't start with that again. I say what's proper and what's not, and you disobeying me is improper."

Slowly, she moved the cover from herself and slid her legs to the edge of the bed. Harry had not yet looked in her direction, which she was thankful for as she wrapped her arms over the thin material that clung to her breasts and stepped closer until she was just next to the tub.

He looked up at her. His eyes were bloodshot, and the fatigue in them was evident. "Well, if you're not going to join me, at least sit." He patted the wide stone ledge of the tub as he kept his eyes on her.

Trying her best not to stare into the water, she shifted her gaze toward the fire and sat down where the king had told her. His broad chest rose and fell tiredly as he stretched his strong arms along the top of the tub. She looked down at his fingers, the distance of only 7 or 8 barleycorns away from her thigh. So close he could touch if he stretched his middle finger toward her.

"I didn't foresee the kind of difficulty I'd encounter in keeping you. I knew some would disagree with my choice, but to have been interrupted in my work and so blatantly disrespected… We will not be making that mistake again."

"I'm sorry, it was—"

"Stop." He spoke loudly, his voice carrying a harsh edge. "Do not apologize for concerns you did not create. I have chosen you, and that's final. The Lord Mayor will have to come to terms with his punishment, just as I will have to come to terms with my lapse in judgment. I take responsibility for that egregious failure. But I'm not happy about it."

Y/n kept quiet. She'd seen the king raging mad the moment he stepped into the castle the evening prior, and while that anger had not been directed at her, she felt it as if it were. So part of her still felt like she'd done something wrong. And it was becoming clear to her now that her place as queen was not going to be an easy one. She was not beloved by the kingdom. She was a disgrace to the monarch and tradition.

"Next time I have to take leave, you'll come with me. I don't believe we have any choice in the matter. You're my responsibility."

She gently placed her palm down on the cool stone and watched as he dragged a cloth over his chest. "When do you leave next?"

"Not until after we're wed. And once you become pregnant, all of my duties away from the castle must be delegated to someone I trust. We can't risk anyone trying to hurt you again."

As he wetted his skin and wrung out the damp cloth, she glanced over his shoulder and up his neck to his structured jawline. She imagined his babies would be very pretty. The out-of-place thought surprised her.

"I wish I weren't such a burden, My King."

He dipped the rag into the water and looked up at her as he leaned forward. "You're my burden. I chose it. I bear it. It's what I want. I could very well pick another who's more suitable. Easier. More docile. But I don't want that. I want you."

It wasn't romantic. Not at all. So why did her heart skip a beat when he'd said it? He'd admitted she was a burden. She was not easy, and she was not docile.

"I'm trying to be more docile. I'll learn."

He waved his arm as water dripped from his skin. "No. My mother tried to be compliant and docile, and look where it got her. The moment she surrendered her will was the moment she was sentenced to death."

Shaking her head in confusion, Y/n leaned forward and dipped a finger into the warm water. "What do you mean? The queen died from consumption. That was what we were all told."

"And she would still be alive today if she had kept a grip on her spirit. But she allowed my father to take it from her. He took her charm, her wit, and her will. Consumption took her because she allowed herself to surrender. It was her death sentence."

She had wanted to run her hand over his back in a soothing gesture, but she thought better of it. It was possible he was no longer mourning the loss of his mother and that he wouldn't want her touch even if he was. The queen had been gone for many years.

"I loathe to bring this up right now, but I feel it's important to say. I'm worried that the brooch you gave me, the one that belonged to the queen, is gone. The Lord Mayor took it from me when he removed me from the castle."

Harry's face darkened as he turned to look toward the door. "Did he now? If it's gone, he will pay a heavy price in the form of losing his title. That's theft and punishable by law. But I have a feeling it's still in his possession. I will have it back to you by tomorrow, and if not, I will buy you a new one."

"I'm very grateful to you, My King. You returned so quickly. My sisters are very happy here."

He looked at her face, and his irises burned a trail down the front of her chemise. "And you? Are you happy here?"

She looked down at her lack of clothes and shifted forward so that her breasts were less visible under the thin fabric. "I am. We all are. My family and I."

"Here…" He held his hand toward her, the wet cloth in his palm. She took the rag from him, and he repositioned himself so his back was facing her. Y/n understood that he was requesting her to take the cloth to his back to help him wash.

She hesitantly moved her hand toward his back, as if touching him would set her to flame. But once the damp rag was pressed into his shoulder, he sighed, and she realized that touching him wouldn't hurt her at all. It had been silly to think it would. Running it across his back, she noted the smooth skin and firm muscle that defined his sturdy figure. Plunging the cloth down into the water along his spine, she allowed herself to take him in. The backs of his arms and neck, the curve of his shoulder, and the breadth of his frame…

"If you joined me in the tub, this would be much easier."

It was true. If she were sitting behind him in the water, she'd have easier access to him, but that would require her to remove her garment. When she didn't answer, Harry turned to look at her as he leaned back into the tub until his shoulder was pressed into her thigh. "Keep going."

"Your back is hidden. I can't reach—"

"Then here." He took her hand with the cloth and pulled it over his chest. The new angle of him, his back to her as she leaned forward and slowly ran the rag along the solid muscle of his pectorals, felt quite salacious. But she continued wiping and cleaning him. When he leaned his head back against her thigh, she gasped and paused her motions.

He laughed, his eyes closed. "Oh, mouse… Calm yourself."

She slowly began to rub over the skin of his chest as she looked down at his face. His features were tranquil as he moaned, the lower she dipped the rag. She had no intentions of dragging it too low, but he seemed to be enjoying it as she ran it over his stomach.

Glancing down further, she could make out something dark between his legs, and then the member attached to him as it swayed with the water's movement. It was indecent of her to be looking, but her curiosity was acute. And besides, she'd seen it before already. She knew what he looked like, and right then, it seemed so harmless as it was distorted beneath the surface of the water.

"Lower."

Y/n blinked, casting her sight back to his face. She hesitated to bring the cloth lower against him, but figured she didn't need to go that low. There were other areas she could clean, other spots she could run the rag against. So she leaned in further and wiped down to his hip and the top of his thigh.

He let out a breathy groan and spread his legs the slightest. "Good."

She smiled at the praise. She was doing something right for once. Trailing the cloth to his other hip and down to the top of his thigh, he rocked his hips upward and moaned. When he turned his head, rolling it over her thigh, she felt his warm breath sneaking under the cloth of her chemise.

The moment was entirely too intimate. Harry was quite amenable in that moment, and the way he had used her thigh as a pillow felt sweet. Something about how tired he seemed and the way his eyelids were closed as he puffed out shallow breaths made her body heat. She didn't understand why she was responding to him that way.

But then he lifted an arm out of the water and reached behind himself, his hand pressed over her thigh, and then he squeezed as he moved his palm up to her hip. Her light colored chemise wetted under his touch, and she could see her skin coming through the damp material. She watched as his thumb gently ran along the bend of her thigh.

"My Lord…" She didn't know what she was to say, but she knew she had to say something. Anything… "You're getting my clothes wet."

"Then take them off."

She swallowed and lifted the rag away from him. "That's—"

"Improper? Is that what you were going to say?" Harry pushed himself from his spot in the tub and turned to look at her directly.

He pulled at her hip and grinned as she dropped the rag into the tub and gasped. She loved how it felt to have his hands on her, but she was too embarrassed to admit it as she writhed away from him and stood from the tub to step away.

The King leaned forward against the tub, his elbows on the spot she'd been sitting. "Where are you going?"

"I'm… You're the devil!" She said as her body thrummed with wanton heat.

He let out a loud laugh and felt something slick under his palm. Looking down to the stone, he stitched his brows together and drew a finger through the moisture before he brought it up to sniff. He dropped his mouth open in surprise as he looked at her. "Little mouse… This is not water. Come here at once and let me see."

"No." She looked away from him as she clutched the back of her chemise. She knew very well what it was, she just hadn't expected it to seep through the linen down to the stone. She'd only recently begun to understand the mechanics of how her body reacted to being aroused ever since Harry showed her the way she could make herself feel.

"Yes." He spoke firmly, his green eyes boring into her body as her chest heaved. "Come here and we'll take care of this for you. Now I see why you're so pent up. You need a release, don't you? It's been a hard few days for you."

She shook her head and looked down at her bare feet. She was doing everything she could to be a good girl, to do the right thing by God. But the king, whom she was certain was the devil himself, tempting her, made it unimaginably hard to keep righteous.

"Have you been taking good care of your little leaky spout like I showed you?"

She let out a wobbly noise and closed her eyes to pretend that question had never been uttered.

"I think you have. You very much enjoyed it when I showed you how to touch your little coo. Has it been good? I'm sure you were unable to whilst back at your tenement, but certainly you know well the kind of joy it brings when you have privacy."

She swallowed, the sound clicking loudly in the room. "No."

"Yes. Come here."

Opening her eyes, she let her sight trail over his arms and his face as he leaned into the tub so casually. Like what he was saying wasn't unscrupulous. He was so well-favored in looks that it almost wasn't fair. How was she to remain a proper lady?

"Was it me you thought of when you touched yourself?"

Shaking her head, she quickly glanced away. It was hard to maintain eye contact when she was lying.

"No? Then Lane? Your friend? You thought of him?"

Setting her eyes back on his, she shook her head. "No! Of course not!"

He smiled. "You don't fancy him then?"

"Never. Not like that."

"What about me? Do you fancy me, Y/n? Be honest. I can already tell when you're not being forthright. You can't even look me in the eye when you answer falsely."

Her skin felt like she'd fallen into a patch of stinging nettles as he kept his eyes on her. He'd figured out her little signal. She was no good at lying. But she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing how he made her feel deep down.

"I want you here now. Come sit or I'll get out and force you to."

Still clutching the back of her chemise, she stepped forward slowly until she was next to the tub. Harry reached up for her hip and pulled. "Sit."

Y/n placed her hands down on the ledge and sat, but Harry pulled at her again until her legs were in the water and the bottom of her chemise was wet. Her heart was galloping in her chest as he placed his hands on her thighs. "You're going to be my wife. Yes?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"That's right. You're mine. So when I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it for me. I don't ask much of you, Y/n," he spoke as he ran his hands up and down her thighs, then hooked his thumbs under the hem of the material and brought it upward to her mid-thigh. "You needn't worry much about anyone else asking you to do something. Just me. Yes?"

She nodded again and watched as his thumbs pushed upward under the chemise over her skin and she thought she would faint.

"What did you eat last night?"

"Uhh… roasted potatoes and cream, salted fish, bread and butter, apples."

He smiled at her as he paused his hands at the top of her thigh, and she felt her whole body flush in embarrassment. If he lowered his sight and peeked, he'd see her full quim she was sure.

"Good. You're eating well. And you slept well too, I presume?"

She nodded, trying to keep still so he didn't conclude how much she was affected by his hands on her.

"You like this."

Blinking, she turned her sight to the table with the water pitcher without answering.

He laughed softly and ran his thumbs along the curve of her thigh where it met her hip. "That's a yes. And what about this?"

She felt his fingers press into the flesh at the inside of her thigh as he pulled and spread her legs. She looked down quickly and sucked in a sharp inhale at the sight. It was lewd for him to see her like that. And yet… She was curious.

"Keep going?" He looked up at her, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know…" She gulped.

"You don't know? Then, how about I just keep going until you say stop? Yes?"

She nodded. "Okay."

He shifted his gaze further down to her privy parts, and she closed her eyes when she felt his thumb slide against her crease. He hissed, gripping her thigh harshly as he inspected her bits and moved in closer to get a better look.

"Very pretty, little mouse." She felt his thumb slip down further and softly massage until there was a little intrusion. She opened her eyes and watched as the tip of his thumb disappeared into her hole.

Snapping her thighs closed, Harry shot his eyes back up to her and removed his fingers. "Stop?"

It hadn't hurt her, but it was the embarrassment that had her shying from his touch. "I… I don't know. It's… not right."

"What's not right? The way a man and woman enjoy one another? Is that what's not right? Why would God go through the trouble of making humans with parts that can find pleasure in touch?"

"I think it's just meant for the sacrament of marriage."

"So, stop, then?"

She looked down at her legs dangling into the water and wished she were more bold like the girls she'd read about in her stories. The ones who'd found their lovers before they were wed and allowed themselves the indulgence of pleasure.

Harry gently wrapped his fingers around the space just above her ankle. "Look at me, mouse."

She looked into his green eyes and felt like she was being torn apart by her conscience. She'd never wanted to give in to her carnal pleasure as much as she did with Harry. And she never imagined that a man like him would defend her honor more than once. He was crude and undisciplined, but there was something tender, just for her, underneath the cold and pompous performance.

"Do you know why your little coo gets all wet like this, if not for the enjoyment of the act? It's human nature. It's how we were made. You do not need to be shy with me. If you want it, you can have it. As you've seen before, God will not smite you for such a thing as this."

The skin on her ankle where his hand was gripped felt warm, and it sent a wave of wicked craving through her insides. She wanted to reach toward him and push the curl from his forehead and slide her finger down his prominent nose over his plush pink lips just to see what he'd feel like under her fingertips. She wished she were brave enough to slip into the tub with him and fall into the temptuous ways of a dauntless woman.

He released her ankle and stood from the water, his strong, denuded body wet and dripping before her. She glanced only briefly at the organ hung heavy at her eye level before tilting her head back to look up at him. He bent as he took her chin in his hand. "What is it that you want? Tell me now."

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm confused."

He puffed out a laugh and let go of her chin before he stepped from the tub. "Aren't we all, Y/n? No one really has the answers. Everyone is confused. You just have to learn to speak up for what you want most and hope that it wasn't the bad choice. No one can guide you but yourself."

She turned to watch as he pulled a robe over his body and walked toward his balcony. What did she want most? What if it was the bad choice?

Pulling her legs from the water, she stepped from the tub and guardedly followed behind him, the bottom half of her chemise soaked, which sent a chill over her heated skin. She stopped at the balcony door and coasted her eyes over the view of the castle garden with its fountains and tall trees. In the late spring, it would be a lovely place to stroll through, she thought. Harry was leaned into the stone railing, the tips of his curls in his damp hair already drying from the cool air whisping through it.

He was the sort of man who women whispered about. Both because he had such a rakishly handsome face (and form) and because he had the most brutish devil-may-care attitude. It made him quite a fascinating attraction. But the current of care he had for her underneath his thoughtless exterior was what drew Y/n's curiosity the most.

"You may do with me as you please. Make the decision for me. I won't say no." It took everything in her to spit the words out.

He turned and placed an elbow over the stone to lean into as he looked at her, his head cocked to the side as if she were a peculiar creature. "That does not please me. Indeed, I do not like being told no, but even worse is when I'm told yes and it's a lie."

"Then yes. I want to know. I may as well learn. Not just to please you but to discover my own pleasure."

Pushing himself from the stone, he blinked in surprise, a ghost of a smile turning the edge of his lip upward. "Then tell me what it is you want. Speak plainly."

She glanced behind her at the bed and then back at the king. "I'll… I could lie on the bed, and you could touch me again. Maybe…" She looked down and felt every atom of her being light up with scorching embers. "I'd like to feel your kiss."

She hadn't even noticed that he'd stepped in front of her until she saw his bare feet standing before her. Lifting her head upward to meet his gaze, she could have melted from the warmth on his face. "I haven't kissed you yet, have I?"

Harry placed his wide palm on her frozen cheek, and she closed her eyes. He hadn't kissed her, but the tender touch had her skin sizzling and her heart racing. "You haven't yet kissed me. No."

Blinking her eyes open to look at him again, she watched his irises smooth across her features and drag over her lips slowly as his thumb slid down her cheekbone. "Then we must remedy that mistake."

She'd been kissed before. Lane had been drunk, and she gave in to his persistent bickering to shut him up and to sate her own curiosity. It was hard and dry and smelled of gin and ale and sweat. It hadn't been what she imagined a kiss should be.

So, when Harry nudged his nose against hers, and she felt his hand soft on her hip, she knew it before he'd even closed the gap between their lips, that this would be the kind of kiss she'd always daydreamed of.

She felt his breath over her lips, and his fingers squeezed her skin as his thumb dragged gently at her temple before he pressed his smooth mouth to hers, and the noise of her doubt was silenced. She hadn't even realized that her hands were clutched over the fabric of his robe at his chest, like he would drift away as if in a dream if she didn't hang on tight.

He opened and closed his lips around hers in soft, careful motions, and she stepped closer, beckoned by the pull of his hand at her side. She parted her lips to mimic how he was kissing her, and he moaned into her mouth. She had no time to be startled by the moan and that it signified his delectation, when she felt the wet tip of his tongue lave over her bottom lip before he pulled it into his mouth gently.

Oh god! She was wrong about everything! He didn't need to confess an undying love or obsession that was not there. He only needed to kiss her for her body and her mind to relent to him. It was delicate and confident, prurient and genteel… it was bewitching.

Did one truly not need the magical bounds of love to bloom in rapture from a kiss? Her skin and her blood and the nails on her fingers and toes were all vibrating with the kind of sensation that she always assumed only happened when a soul had found the one it was predestined to.

His hand slowly pushed away from her face and wound to the back of her head as his other reached across her lower back until she was flush against his chest. Her heart fluttered so rapidly at her brazen reach, her hands moving upward of their own accord until she'd pushed her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Even with the chilled wind whipping over her thinly clothed frame, her blood burned hot. If he took her then and laid her in his bed and claimed her virginity, she thought she'd not say no. Because what was this? Why was the subtle unanchoring of her morals and her posture on right and wrong suddenly categorized as a lie and a truth? The thick veil of deception was quickly trampled by just a kiss. What else would she soon uncover?

When he parted from her, he did not remove his hands, but he set his gaze against hers with a soft wonder that carried over to his features. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from his hair and placed her palms on his shoulders, all in silence. Was he in awe just as she was? Surely not.

But his delicate touch at the back of her neck was an homage to something profoundly affectionate. It had all been unexpected. Perhaps even for him.

"I have much to do today, else I'd remain here with you. It's nearly ten, breakfast will be served promptly. We'll call for Phoebe to help you dress and begin your day."

He stepped away, and it was then that Y/n could feel the harsh wind cutting through the linen to her flesh. She stood, confounded, as she watched the king walk back into his room to dress himself. Frozen in her spot, she let her mind wander to her childhood when she used to play pretend that her prince had found her. He'd sweep her up, take her away, and they'd fall madly in love and rule the kingdom together. Was it something she'd somehow foreseen, or was it just the silly imagination of every young girl who wished for something better?

Confounded, maybe, but Y/n was armed with a new awareness, a definite truth that she hadn't been privy to before. That even those who mean well can tell a lie, and truth can be found in the most unexpected ways. It was an awakening for her to see the way her heart could soar, as if God himself had elicited it. And right then, her heart was in flight like a bird that knew the way it must go with an instinct that directed its path. It was not God that guided the way. It was her.

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bu3ck3r · 3 days ago

Text

tied together — part 4

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: let’s see if y’all gonna like it ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

tied together – masterlist

paige’s pov:

paige wasn’t even pretending to focus on film anymore.

her laptop was open, paused on a frame showing south carolina’s transition set — azzi at the top of the key, flicking the ball to the wing — but she hadn’t hit play again in ten minutes.

she was staring.

staring at azzi’s hands.

the way she dribbled, how fluid and controlled it was. staring at the way her shoulders shifted just before she exploded into motion.

and staring at her face — that locked-in, razor-sharp expression paige knew better than anyone.

azzi looked good.

too good.

paige flopped onto her bed, groaned, and dragged her hands down her face.

she was in trouble.

because watching game film wasn’t just watching game film anymore. it was watching her.

the girl who made her stupid. the girl she loved.

and the girl she might have to play against in a few days.

she zoomed in on the bench footage, pausing at moments where azzi smiled or tapped her fingers on her knee in that way she always does when she’s focused.

she doesn’t even realize nika’s behind her until she hears the door click.

nika walked in, saw the paused screen, raised an eyebrow. “you’re literally down bad.”

paige laughed. “say it louder, maybe the hallway didn’t hear you.”

nika smiled. “so when are you telling everyone?”

“about what?” paige teases.

nika just gave her a look. “you said it. i know you did. you look different.”

paige’s smile faded a little. “i don’t know when. or how. i don’t want it to blow up in her face.”

nika nodded. “but you’re not gonna keep her in the dark forever, right?”

“no,” paige said quietly. “not anymore.”

her phone buzzed on her chest.

you stalking me again or are you just bad at film study?

paige smiled without meaning to.

maybe both. can’t confirm.

you’re predictable.

you’re distracting.

you love it.

paige stared at that last message a beat too long.

her chest ached. and swelled.

she typed.

i love you.

no hesitation.

a second passed.

then two.

then—

i love you too. i miss you.

paige’s throat went tight. she set her phone down for a second like it was hot to the touch.

she missed her, too.

missed her voice, her laugh, her legs tangled with hers under the blanket. missed falling asleep to the sound of azzi’s breathing. missed knowing she was close enough to reach out and touch.

later azzi called.

in her comfiest hoodie, curled in her bed while paige talked about practice, her upcoming media day, and how she nearly airballed a three because she was thinking about azzi’s smile like a dumbass.

azzi laughed, soft and low. “you’re literally obsessed with me.”

paige leaned closer to the screen. “don’t act like you’re not eating it up.”

“maybe i am,” azzi shrugged, trying to play it cool, but her cheeks turned pink.

after their facetime ended azzi was sitting on the floor in her bathroom with her back against the wall and her knees pulled to her chest, phone glowing in her palm.

she kept rereading paige’s message.

she never got tired of it.

she never stopped needing it.

god, she was in deep.

and she wasn’t even trying to climb out.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

their conversations lately had changed.

it wasn’t just teasing anymore — though there was still plenty of that.

now, everything felt more like… home.

azzi you iced today?

yes mother.

okay rude. but also hot.

you’re so obsessed with me p.

correct.

not denying it?

i literally watch your clips before bed. i’m cooked.

azzi laughed out loud, alone in her room.

god, she wanted to be anywhere else.

more specifically — in paige’s bed. mouth on hers. hands under her shirt.

she swallowed hard and texted again.

i want to hear your voice.

azzi lay on her side, headphones in, staring at paige’s sleepy face on her screen.

paige had one arm tucked under her head, hoodie pulled half over her mouth, hair messy and eyes soft.

“you look like you haven’t slept in a week,” azzi whispered.

“i haven’t,” paige said. “you ruined me.”

azzi grinned. “yeah?”

paige nodded, slow.

“in like… every possible way.” she added, voice soft.

paige didn’t even blink.

“i love you.”

azzi smiled.

“i love you too.”

the facetime call went quiet for a second.

just their breathing.

the sound of someone turning over in the hallway outside paige’s dorm.

“i hate this,” paige whispered eventually. “all the waiting. all the pretending.”

azzi’s voice was quiet. “pretending?”

“that we’re not gonna be on opposite sides of the court in a week.”

azzi didn’t answer.

paige stared at the screen. azzi was blinking at the ceiling, lips slightly parted, breathing like she was trying to stay calm.

finally, azzi said, “we don’t have to pretend. we just have to hold on.”

“to what?”

“to this. you and me.”

azzi’s pov:

practice was brutal.

not only physically, but emotionally.

coach kept shouting about matchups, about tempo, about intensity.

and every time someone mentioned uconn, someone mentioned her.

“you’ll need to pressure bueckers early. don’t let her get hot.”

“she likes to pass when she feels you on her hip. force the drive.”

azzi just nodded. took the notes. nodded again.

but inside, she was breaking.

because yes — she’d defend paige if it came to it.

she’d lock in. she’d play her game.

but she didn’t know if she could do it without shattering something between them.

paige’s pov:

she couldn’t sleep.

she tried.

turned her pillow over five times. opened and closed tiktok.

scrolled her texts with azzi until her eyes blurred.

nothing helped.

so she sent a voice note.

“i’m not okay. i just keep thinking about you. about how close we are to playing each other. and how stupid in love with you i am.”

seconds later, azzi replied with one of her own.

“sometimes i love you more than i love the game. even though i need the game. that’s how bad it is.”

paige smiled through tears.

“you’re everything to me.”

azzi’s pov:

it was the day before the game. everything had slowed down.

there was still noise — interviews, practice drills, coaches shouting — but none of it got through.

azzi walked through it like a ghost.

the truth had finally settled in: if both teams won tomorrow, they’d meet in the final four.

she’d have to guard paige.

she’d have to foul her. body her up. get in her head.

and she hated it.

because paige was already in her heart — and that space wasn’t built for battles.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

azzi stared at the ceiling in the dark, airpods in, trying not to breathe too loud as paige’s voice whispered through the phone.

“…you still there?”

azzi smiled.

“always.”

paige sighed on the other end, soft and broken. “tell me something good.”

azzi shifted onto her side.

“i stole your t shirt and wore it under my practice jersey today.”

paige laughed — low and breathy.

“for real?”

“smelled like you,” azzi whispered. “made me feel better.”

“i love you,” paige said.

azzi closed her eyes.

“i love you more.”

“no, i—” paige stopped. “i love you like… it scares me. like i don’t even know who i am without you anymore.”

azzi’s throat tightened.

“i don’t want to find out,” she whispered.

paige had never been in love like this.

the kind that felt like panic and comfort in the same breath. the kind that lived in her fingertips and her ribs and her throat when she said azzi’s name.

she loved her so much it hurt.

and now she had to go play against her.

or try to.

they were both lying in bed, half-asleep, faces lit by the soft glow of their screens.

paige reached toward her camera like she could touch her.

azzi did the same.

“do you think we’ll be okay after this?” paige whispered.

azzi blinked slowly.

“i think we’re too stubborn not to be.”

paige smiled.

“you’re really it for me,” she said.

azzi’s eyes filled.

“you too.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

azzi’s pov:

the arena was massive.

lights everywhere. cameras already tracking them in warmups.

azzi shot around, going through the motions — but her eyes kept drifting.

she found paige easily, across the court, uconn blue and white, warm-up shirt tugged up to her elbows.

focused. beautiful. unreachable.

until she looked up.

their eyes met.

for one second, the entire world dropped out.

no crowd. no pressure.

just her. just paige.

and then paige mouthed something, so small only azzi could see.

“i love you.”

azzi’s heart cracked wide open.

she mouthed it back.

paige’s pov:

tunnel before tip-off.

she felt azzi before she saw her.

that weird magnetic tug that always happened — like gravity tilted slightly toward her when they were in the same building.

they passed in the tunnel, both walking to their benches.

azzi brushed her fingers against paige’s as they crossed.

paige didn’t look. just whispered:

“good luck.”

azzi whispered back:

“you too. come find me after.”

then they were gone — swallowed up by lights and screaming fans.

and the ball was tossed into the air.

azzi’s pov:

azzi found her before the chaos hit.

before the arena lights dimmed and the anthem blared and the crowd swallowed them whole, she took a risk.

snuck into the side tunnel outside the locker rooms, hoodie pulled low, headphones around her neck.

and there she was.

paige.

leaning against the concrete wall, arms crossed, like she was counting down.

she looked up the second azzi turned the corner.

didn’t say a word. just smiled.

azzi walked straight into her, wrapped her fingers around her, and kissed her.

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t sweet.

it was desperate.

a second to breathe before they couldn’t anymore.

paige kissed her back, rougher than usual, hands on her waist, pulling her in like she didn’t care who might turn the corner and see.

when they finally pulled apart, azzi pressed her forehead to paige’s and whispered, “play your game.”

paige smiled. “you play yours.”

then, softer: “good luck.”

azzi smirked.

“you’ll need it.”

paige rolled her eyes but didn’t step back.

“i love you,” she whispered.

azzi said it right back. didn’t even think.

then they disappeared in opposite directions.

paige couldn’t get her heartbeat under control during warmups.

not because of the crowd or the cameras.

because azzi was on the other side of the court, stretching with her team like she didn’t just kiss paige breathless ten minutes ago in a tunnel that smelled like adrenaline.

uconn jogged through layup lines. paige moved on instinct.

she couldn’t focus.

azzi looked locked in.

like she’d flipped the switch.

and that made paige grin.

because this was the only way they knew how to love each other.

all in. no holding back. even when they were going head-to-head.

azzi’s pov:

hands on knees, braids tight, crowd blurring into noise — she focused on the ball, the whistle, the first possession.

but then paige jogged by her.

and looked.

just a flick of the eyes. a half-smirk.

azzi’s stomach flipped.

she smacked her palms together, bent her knees, and muttered, “let’s play.”

the first few minutes were chaos.

fast breaks. missed shots. sloppy fouls.

but uconn got into rhythm quick — and paige hit her first jumper off a screen.

nothing but net.

and paige didn’t look at azzi after the shot. didn’t need to.

she felt her watching.

two minutes later, azzi checked in.

and walked straight to paige.

they didn’t speak.

just locked eyes as they matched up — azzi on defense, paige on the ball.

paige grinned. “you ready?”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “always.”

paige was quick.

but azzi had studied her.

watched hours of film. knew her favorite spots. her hesitation move. the way she looked down for half a second before pulling up.

so when paige tried to get by her — azzi slid right with her and stripped the ball clean.

fast break. easy two.

no celebration. just a glance.

paige scowled, then smiled.

“okay,” she muttered. “that’s how we’re playing?”

azzi shrugged. “love you.”

paige deadpanned. “not right now you don’t.”

paige’s pov:

halftime – uconn 39, sc 36

she had only 9 points. and azzi had picked her pocket twice.

paige was pissed.

not at her — at herself. but also… maybe a little at her.

because azzi guarding her was like being studied and kissed and smothered all at once.

it was infuriating. and kind of hot.

in the locker room, she barely listened to geno’s breakdown.

all she could think was: i need to score. i need to show her i’m still me.

at second half paige came out aggressive.

first two possessions — mid-range pull-up, then a driving layup.

azzi cursed under her breath.

but it didn’t throw her.

she clamped down harder. got physical. body-to-body on every screen.

they bumped hips. shoulders. chests.

it was borderline inappropriate.

and absolutely electric.

in the final minutes uconn pulled ahead late.

azzi fouled her on a drive, hand slipping down her waist as they collided.

paige hit the floor, let out a breath, then looked up.

azzi stood over her, hands on her knees.

“you good?” she asked.

paige grinned, breathless.

“you touching me like that in front of thousands?”

azzi laughed. “you liked it.”

paige stood, got the free throws, and brought her total to 15.

the last shot of the game was a buzzer beater by paige’s teammate.

uconn won.

but paige didn’t celebrate.

she looked across the court.

azzi was bent over at the waist, catching her breath, jaw clenched.

azzi’s pov:

she held it together in the handshake line.

slapped backs. nodded at reporters. smiled when she didn’t mean it.

when she reached paige, she hesitated for half a second.

then they touched palms. quick. impersonal.

but paige’s fingers brushed hers for just a second longer than they should’ve.

azzi looked up.

and paige mouthed, “text you.”

during the press conference paige smiled through almost every question.

talked about teamwork. adjustments.

no one asked about azzi.

but paige was thinking about her with every breath.

the second the media let her go, she pulled out her phone and texted azzi.

can we meet? just us. somewhere quiet.

azzi’s pov:

she hadn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

just peeled off her jersey and sat in the locker room with her knees pulled to her chest, headphones in, face blank.

she was proud. she was devastated.

aliyah looked at her.

“hey. you okay?”

azzi nodded.

“you sure?”

azzi didn’t look up. “yeah, just exhausted.”

aliyah hesitated, then stepped back.

as soon as the door shut, her phone buzzed in her lap.

can we meet? just us. somewhere quiet.

azzi stared at the message.

she didn’t answer right away.

she just got up, grabbed her hoodie, and left.

paige was already there, sitting on a low metal railing, hoodie up, legs swinging. she looked up when she heard azzi’s steps echo on the concrete.

neither of them spoke for a second.

then paige stood, walked over, and stopped a foot in front of her.

“you good?” she asked quietly.

azzi nodded. “you?”

“yeah.”

azzi stared at her.

“fifteen points,” she said, mouth twitching.

paige rolled her eyes. “wow. straight to that.”

“i mean…” azzi stepped closer, eyes shining. “you talked so much and couldn’t even hit twenty?”

paige’s smile was crooked. “you were all over me.”

“you saying i rattled you?”

“i’m saying…” paige leaned in, mouth brushing azzi’s ear, “you looked hot when you bodied me on the baseline. kind of unfair, honestly.”

azzi laughed, breathless. “you’re sick.”

paige shrugged. “maybe a little.”

azzi went quiet.

then: “that’s not a joke to me.”

paige stepped back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“it’s not a joke to me either.”

a long beat.

“what happened out there…” azzi said slowly. “it was just basketball. but it’s not us.”

paige nodded. “it’s just basketball.”

azzi reached for her hand. laced their fingers. “but this?”

paige squeezed back. “this is everything else.”

azzi didn’t remember who leaned in first.

maybe it didn’t matter.

all she knew was paige’s mouth was on hers, and she felt like she could finally breathe again.

it started soft — but didn’t stay that way.

paige pressed her back to the wall, hands on azzi’s hips, fingers slipping under her hoodie. azzi gasped into her mouth, then kissed her harder.

azzi’s hands gripped the front of paige’s hoodie, dragging her closer.

paige whispered against her neck, “still mad i didn’t score more?”

azzi moaned, quiet and low.

“not really,” she breathed. “i was kinda busy watching you run your mouth and look good doing it.”

paige smirked, hand sliding under the hem of azzi’s shirt, brushing her stomach.

“you like the attitude?”

azzi pulled her down again. “i love all of it.”

the kiss deepened.

fingers tangled in hair. lips moving fast. hot. desperate.

paige whispered between breaths:

“i love you so much.”

“you played so good baby.”

they didn’t go all the way — not here, not now. but it was close.

hands on bare skin. mouths pressed tight. the promise of later in every touch.

azzi rested her forehead on paige’s.

“don’t disappear again,” she said.

paige opened her eyes.

“i’m not going anywhere.”

she kissed her again — slow this time. soft. like she was thanking her for something neither of them could say out loud yet.

they stayed like that for a while.

just holding each other.

letting the rest of the world wait.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #pazzi fics #fiction #paige x azzi #uconn huskies #south carolina #wbb #fluff

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chuxmy · 1 day ago

Note

Hii! I hope you’re doing well!

Could you do reader fixing Baku’s bruises after he got in another fight with the union members, could it also be romantic?

Taking care of you

Pairings: Park Humin (Baku) x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a fight, you patch up Humin and a quiet kiss reveals what words never could.

Warnings: violence, injuries

A/N: Hii! Yess I’m doing good. I hope you like it 🫰🏻

The air was thick with heat and leftover adrenaline as Park Humin stood alone at the edge of the alleyway, his shirt collar torn, fists scraped raw, and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t look at the three guys groaning on the ground behind him, Union members, the usual type that thought they could outnumber him and win.

They didn’t.

But they did a hell of a job trying.

Humin exhaled slowly, like his breath was trying to keep him upright. His jaw clenched as he rolled his shoulders back and stepped into the weak glow of a flickering streetlight, head bowed slightly. His knuckles were red and cracked, a cut just beneath his eye swelling into a bruise already turning a violent shade of purple.

And then he saw you.

You had been searching for him ever since you heard whispers in the school hallway, something about Humin getting into it again. Another fight. More Union dogs barking up the wrong tree.

“Park Humin,” you breathed, and the name came out sharper than you intended.

He flinched a little at your voice, not because he was scared, he never was but because of the disappointment laced in it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, trying to walk past you.

“Too bad,” you snapped, stepping in front of him. “I came anyway.”

His gaze dropped, his lashes low over his dark, unreadable eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” You grabbed his wrist and yanked it gently. “Come on. You’re bleeding.”

He hesitated. “It’s not—”

“Now, Baku.” The nickname rolled off your tongue like a scolding mixed with concern.

He sighed through his nose but followed you. Maybe it was the weariness settling in, or maybe he knew there was no point arguing when you looked at him like that.. like he wasn’t just a fighter, or a problem, or a bruised set of fists, but something worth being worried about.

He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his thighs, bloodied knuckles twitching now and then. You knelt in front of him with the first aid kit cracked open between you.

You dipped a cotton pad in antiseptic and reached for his face.

“Hold still,” you murmured.

He didn’t move, but his eyes locked on yours. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite name, tiredness, maybe. Regret.

You dabbed carefully at the cut below his eye. He hissed, jaw tightening.

“Still think you’re fine?” you asked, voice quieter now.

He didn’t answer.

You worked in silence for a while. His skin was warm under your fingertips, even bruised and battered. You tried not to notice the way he watched you, or how the dim light made his features look softer, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You didn’t have to fight them,” you said finally.

His lips twitched, almost a smirk. “They started it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to finish it every time.”

“I’m not letting them get away with shit.” His voice was low, raw. “Not after what they’ve done to us. To the others.”

You knew what he meant. The Union had left more than bruises on everyone. You, Sieun, Gotak even Juntae none of you were untouched. But Baku… Baku took it personally. Every threat, every insult, every blow, it fueled something in him that wouldn’t rest.

Your fingers hovered over a bruise along his cheekbone. You hesitated, and then finally whispered, “I just don’t want to see you like this again.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. “I know.”

You finished wrapping his knuckles and leaned back, resting on your knees. “There. You’re patched up.”

He looked down at your hands, still hovering near his. Then, slowly, he laced his fingers through yours.

Your breath caught.

He didn’t say anything, not right away. The silence stretched, thick with something that had been building for a while. Unspoken things. Careful glances. Unnecessary risks taken just to protect each other.

“Hey,” he said quietly, thumb brushing your knuckles. “You know I wouldn’t lose, right?”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” you murmured.

He tilted your chin up with one finger, his touch impossibly gentle for someone so often wrapped in violence. “Then what?”

You looked at him, really looked at him. At the pain behind his smirk, the bruises trying to heal, the boy who fought everyone else so hard he forgot how not to fight himself.

“That one day you won’t come back.”

The tension broke like glass. He pulled you close, not with force, but with the kind of need that had been waiting for permission. His forehead touched yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow at first, almost cautious like he was afraid he’d break you too. But you didn’t pull away. Your hands found his jaw, rough and warm beneath your palms, and he deepened the kiss, tilting your head just so.

It wasn’t a fairytale moment. His lip was split. Your hands trembled. There was blood on his shirt.

But it was real.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathing a little harder, he rested his forehead against yours again and let the silence speak for him.

You didn’t need him to say the words yet. They were in the way he kissed you like you were the only safe thing in his world. The way he let you clean his wounds. The way he looked at you like you made the fight worth it.

“Stay,” you whispered.

He smiled faintly, eyes closing. “Always.”

#weak hero class two #humin park #park humin x reader #park humin #weak hero class 2 #weak hero season 2 #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class one #baku #baku x reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 24 hours ago

Note

Thank God you mentioned dealer!Remus I was the anon that asked for the Christmas one and was too scared to ask for more

Can I get dealer!Remus just being domestic? Like him and reader just at home quietly maybe one of their friends sees and is like "WTF??"

Ohh this is so cute!! You never have to be afraid to request babe, especially if it's dealer!remus, he's our husband.

Summertime in London means a vacation at the Potter's, which also means lots of domestic moments with your friends and your boyfriend.

James and Lily are the earliest risers and that means more times than not, they're on breakfast. You and Remus wake next, so you start the coffee and set the kettle on to make everyone's tea. Sirius wakes last, grumpiest of you all.

James is flipping pancakes, Lily is getting the iced tea started and you're still groggy from sleep as Remus comes down from the room behind you.

"Go lay down, dove." he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as you yawn.

"No," you groan. "Wanna help with the tea."

Remus rolls his eyes, "Go lay on the sofa, I'll make your tea and bring it for you." When you don't move, Remus cups the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he tilts his head to catch your eyes better. "Please, love?"

James is shocked to his core at how blatant Remus is with the affection. He's usually a more reserved lover, but with you, it's like he's been turned completely upside down.

He can't say that he doesn't love seeing his friend so in love, but it is a shock to the system. It seems Sirius gets the same shock when he comes down to the kitchen just in time to hear you,

"Kiss?" you ask Remus, eyes barely open and head already tilted to him and Remus smiles. He plants two kisses to your lips and you turn and go off to the sofa with a contented smile on your face.

"What the fuck? Have you been replaced by a fucking body snatcher?" Sirius asks, indignant at the Remus' open and easy affection.

Remus only rolls his eyes. "What are you on about Pads?" he moves into the kitchen, scooping out the coffee grounds for the percolator and then filling up the kettle.

James joins Sirius too, "You just kissed her. Right there." He points to where you and Remus had been standing not even five minutes ago.

Remus shrugs, "I kiss her all the time." He starts your cup of tea first as the kettle whistles, two tea bags, brown sugar, and a little milk. "Lils do you want a cuppa?" he asks as she joins you in the living room.

Remus turns in time to see her shake her head, "M'okay." he nods and turns to the boys, who shake their heads.

"Not in front of everyone you liar!" Sirius is practically screaming for nine in the morning. "You're usually very private about it."

"You didn't even want to cuddle us till three years had passed, Moony." James cries and Remus shakes his head, a little smile playing on his lips.

"I don't remember that," he starts out of the kitchen with your cup of tea in hand. "Don't let your pancakes burn, Jamie boy."

Sirius and James watch in a mixture of amusement and horror as Remus sets your cup on the coffee table between the settees in the living room and then kneels so he's just in front of you. Not even caring a little that Lily's just there.

"Everything okay? Not hungry are you?" He asks quietly and you shake your head. James flips his last three pancakes and starts on the bacon.

"It's sickening, how in love he is." Sirius murmurs, filling his cup with black coffee and taking a sip.

"It is nice though, that he's happy." James says, though the shock of how easy and practically eager Remus was to give you affection.

"You don't suppose that now he'll give us a cuddle without the gripe?"

James laughs, "I wouldn't push it, Siri."

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sugarushwriting · 21 hours ago

Text

stalker! obsessed! jake sim x f reader

classmate jake being obsessed with you

there is/will be a less um extreme version.

ADULT CONTENT FEATURED read at your own discretion!!!

warning: jake is a nasty nasty boy 😛

you sat peacefully on the plaid blanket beneath you, your head tilting up towards the sun as it warmed your skin. your palm held your place in the book you were reading, as you tried to enjoy more times like this in nature.

well, until you felt a bug crawling on you, “ah!” you yelped and swatted at the bug. arms flinging, book flying, highlighters going every which way.

from a few feet away, a small laugh escaped thick lips from an australian boy who watched on from behind his thick dark sunglasses as he studied from his text book.

he sat at the picnic table of many, in the courtyard of the college campus, opting out of the grass like you and many other students.

you huffed and stood up abruptly, feeling stupid for trying to be one with nature. “stupid bugs.” you understood you were in their territory, but why couldn’t they leave you alone for at least an hour or so, to let you read in peace?

you stuffed your belongings in your bag, dusting off any remaining dirt from your shorts and legs, and walked towards jake.

jake swallowed nervously, quickly ducking his head into his textbook, eyes shielded by the dark frames. he bit his lower lip, hoping you hadn’t caught him. hope you hadn’t been on his trail.

he breathed a sigh of relief as you walked past him as if you had no idea he existed.

“are you just gonna always stare at her like a fucking creep?”

jake shook and jumped with surprise, being startled by his friend’s voice. he looked up seeing jay and sunghoon staring at him with a knowing look.

“i don’t stare at her like a fucking creep.” he mumbled.

“then what do you call that?” sunghoon asked, one hand gripping his backpack strap gesturing between jake and you.

jake shrugged, “she looked cute being startled by the bug.”

jay rolled his eyes. “if you don’t make your move, i will.”

jake scoffed, “please, you’re worse than i am when it comes to girls.”

“youre doubting my abilities to woo a girl, sim.”

“you both suck at wooing girls.” sunghoon chuckled.

“oh shut it sunghoon, you’re no better than us!” jake narrowed his brows. “remember eunjin?”

sunghoon’s lips went into a thin line, jay laughed, jake smirked, and mockingly added, “hawaii? i’m fine, thank you!”

“three, two,—,”

jake took off running, leaving his belongings as sunghoon dropped his bag, taking off after jake.

jay yelled after them, “we have class in ten!”

thankfully, they all were on time for class, alongside their other friend, heeseung. heeseung was also pretty nerdy in ways like them, introverted like sunghoon, but more athletic than the other three. heeseung excelled in almost all sports. jake claimed to excel in all sports, but that was up to debate.

you were already sat in your seat for criminal evidence, an elective for your forensic biology major. the classroom was set up to where there was a projector in the front of the class where the professor stood, and rows of tables that sat up to 4 chairs of students at once. there were 4 columns, each had 4 rows. so all together, the classroom could fit up to 64 students, but the class only has 48 students. (mainly due to drop outs last minute).

the classroom had big windows on one side and on the other side, two main doors for entering the class. you sat in what the professor named, “column 1, row 3, seat 1,” near the window.

jake stared at you as his sunglasses sat on top of his head, his brown eyes shinning. you were staring out the window, paying jake no mind, but then you looked over to jake as he walked side by side next to jay and your eye caught his. he smiled shyly, he quickly looked away, his cheeks and tip of his ears going red. you smirked, and your hand went over your lips to hide it.

jake sim was cute. if not all, most girls on campus had a crush on jake sim. he was handsome, smart, athletic, and funny.

you sighed to yourself. out of all the girls on campus, why you? he’d look at you, think, ‘yeah she’s cute,’ but then he can look at another and go, ‘fuck she’s hot.’ every girl knows there’s a difference and it hurts.

jake and his friend, jay, took their seats behind you, jay directly behind you, jake adjacent. his other two friends, heeseung and sunghoon, sat in the same row as you. sunghoon directly beside you, heeseung next to sunghoon.

the professor tried to keep the front seats open for trouble makers, or to keep her extra supplies for class spread out. sometimes if she played a movie or show, she would sit down her self to watch it with you all.

everytime during class you felt eyes staring at you. you always brushed it off though, you had classmates sitting behind you.

however, it wasn’t your paranoia. jake loved to observe you. your cute habits during class he should say. your eyebrows knitting together when you don’t understand something. the way your face falls when you finally start to realize it. the way you play and twirl your pen when concentrating. it’s cute when you do it. it’s annoying when jay does it.

the way sometimes you will fall asleep resting your cheek in your palm if you’ve worked a late shift at the cafe you work at trying to earn extra cash for some fancy things that catch your eyes.

jake could only think, ‘if you were with him, you would never worry. he would buy all the things you want and more.’

jake didn’t like when you would work extra shifts or late shifts at the cafe, even if it was only a 5 minute walk to your apartment. at 11 pm it’s dark outside and no telling what kind of creeps stalk around at night.

watching. waiting. stalking their next prey.

he felt betrayed (jealous) when you allowed your coworker and supervisor at the cafe, ni-ki, walk you home that night because you had stayed a little later than usual to help him clean the cafe. ni-ki didn’t have class the next day, but you did.

jake saw red when you smiled at the boy, showing your dimples, the boy playing it cool, with a smile, waving you goodnight politely, telling you to sleep soundly.

don’t tell her what to do! jake wanted to scream.

it didn’t matter you didn’t see ni-ki in that way. it didn’t matter what you thought of ni-ki. all that mattered to jake was that you let another man walk you home. that you smiled at another man. gave another man your attention. the only thing stopping him from going overtop and revealing him from the shadows was you didn’t invite ni-ki up to your apartment.

when you and ni-ki departed, jake had two (really three) choices; follow ni-ki or you. he followed you from afar. up to your apartment. since your apartment was older, it didn’t have the automatic locks. you were naive enough to not lock the door either. you dropped your bag, and slipped off your shoes at the front door that night, going straight for the bathroom as you had to pee and wanted to shower the grime off.

jake had slipped in quietly behind you. watching your every move, eyes sparkling with excitement. that night he watched you for the first time, your silhouette outlined by the glass of the shower door.

he couldn’t get out there fast enough.

and he rubbed one out to the thought of you for the hundredth time since he first saw you, however this time, he had a better visual of your body.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

class ended an hour and some minutes later, your mind feeling like jelly and liquid at the same time. when the professor dismissed, you stretched with a sigh, your shirt riding up, jake not missing a single inch of your skin. jay had to elbow him before he started drooling.

“so, are we having our marathon tonight or what?” you heard heeseung say to the boys and you looked over to them with interest.

“what kind of marathon? like walking or running?”

sunghoon laughed and shook his head. “no. since we’re all forensic biologist majors, we like to watch shows or movies centered around it.”

“like bones, criminals minds, csi miami, dexter,”

“do you all actually watch it or crucify it?” you scrunched your nose.

“what’s the difference?” heeseung asked, his bambi eyes looking confused.

you smiled softly. jake frowned seeing how you smiled at his friend. why were you smiling at heeseung like that?

you answered heeseung, “the difference is, if you’re crucifying, you’re not watching to just watch for fun. you’re watching it as if you’re doing homework.”

“why don’t you join us then? make sure we don’t do homework.” jay smiled and you nodded.

“sounds like a plan then. what time should i arrive and what should i wear?”

jake’s pants started to feel tight at the thought of you wearing nothing. showing up in a skimpy pajama outfit. his hands went into his pockets as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“come by 5, and anything that makes you feel comfy. we’ll handle the snacks.” jay smiled with a slight smirk. if jake wasn’t gonna make his move, jay was either going to make jake do it or jay was gonna pounce on you.

and knowing jake and his obsession with you, jake wasn’t letting you go.

jay quickly added you to a new group chat with them 4 titled, “future csi,” and promised to send you the address later.

you smiled to all 4 boys and bounced away with your things, with a smile. should you actually wear something cute and sexy or something comfortable for tonight? suddenly your mind started to over think this. crap!

you whipped out your phone, texting your friend.

to manon-moo: quick im having a movie night with boys should i go cute and sexy pajamas or comfy

from manon-moo: is that even a real question?

to manon-moo: ur right, cute and sexy it is!

from manon-moo: don’t think you’re off the hook yet. we need to unpack the fact you said movie night with boys—as in PLURAL. txt me later for safety babes 😘

your cute and sexy pajamas were creamed color pajamas shorts that had pink hearts on them, and a matching tank top with thin straps. you added an oversized dark hoodie in the meantime and black plain flip flops, to keep it casual and comfy. you quickly grabbed a small tote bag, and added your favorite lip gloss.

at least your pajamas wasn’t your favorite old school shirt and boxer shorts you stole from your male older cousin years ago during a family trip (they were clean).

when the address and pin location was sent in the group chat, you realized it was only a 15 minute walk from your apartment, so you grabbed your headphones and started your journey, enjoying the warmth of the evening sun.

little did you know, jake was right behind you, making sure you got to their house perfectly unscathed. he needed to make sure his girl, his obsession, was okay. he would’ve offered a ride, but knew you would’ve declined and would have said there was no point as it was only a short walk.

but maybe later tonight he can offer that ride. his mind turned and he smirked, laughing to himself. maybe he can offer a ride in more ways than one.

his phone dinged:

from jay p: r u following her??

to jay p: mind your business

to jay p: and yes. need to make sure she gets to us safely. i will walk in a few minutes after her with a good excuse.

soon you arrived to the light blue 2 story house with white shutters, walking up the few steps to knock on the door. their college house was cute. it was in a historic part of downtown like much of the campus so it made sense.

jay opened the door with a smile. “glad you could make it.”

you smiled with a nod. “me too.”

“jake will be here soon, uh he had to, run an errand.”

“okay,” you said and walked into the living room seeing heeseung and sunghoon already setting up the small living room to be cozy for movie night.

plenty of blankets, pillows, 3 pizza boxes, 4 boxes of different flavors of boneless wings, cheesy bread, and different types of drinks.

it didn’t take long for jake to walk through the threshold. he nearly tumbled over himself, too excited to see you, wondering if you already had revealed your pajamas to the boys. he couldn’t help but stare at your ass from behind as you walked.

he wondered if the cotton of your shorts was as soft as they seemed. “sorry, im late, i uh—,”

heeseung and sunghoon stared at the boy wondering what kind of excuse he was going to come up with. jay stood beside you, arms crossed.

you looked at jake worried, as he looked so out of breath, his hair messed up, “jake are you okay? you looked like you ran from something frightening!”

“oh yeah, um,” he swallowed, taking in a deep breath, “whew, got chased by a dog.” he chuckled showing off his smile.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

5 hours.

five.

FIVE freaking hours of the television marathon of different shows and episodes and not once did you think about moving.

you sat comfortably on the couch next to jake, jay on a recliner to your left, sunghoon on the one to jake’s right, heeseung sprawled out on the floor in front of the tv inbetween that and the coffee table.

food gone. drinks nearly empty. stomachs hurting from laughing and the food. minds spinning from talking about different scenarios and guessing. it was fun, and these boys were cool.

jay was unintentionally funny and you couldn’t stop laughing at him.

jake didn’t like it one bit.

jay wasn’t that funny.

you yawned with a stretch. “it’s getting late, i should go.”

“why don’t you sleep over?” jake asked before thinking.

your eyes went wide and jay and heeseungs eyes went wide as well, sunghoon’s body went still.

“are you sure?” you asked not wanting to overstay your welcome. “i don’t want to intrude.”

jake quickly shook his head, “you won’t! you can sleep in my bed, and—,”

“jake will sleep on the couch like a gentleman.” heeseung finished for him.

heeseung stood up from his spot narrowing his eyes at jake. jake was going to offer to sleep on the floor next you like a gentleman, but that wouldn’t be far enough.

after a few seconds of thinking, you nodded, and jake smiled, internally squealing. he would have to make sure he kept those sheets once you were done to keep your smell on them.

thankfully, he changed them when he came home earlier so there were no old come stains in sight on his bed sheets.

jay slept on the first floor, so he said goodnight and went to his room, as sunghoon and heeseung followed you and jake up to jake’s room.

jake turned around, “we don’t need a babysitter.” he frowned.

“we just want to tuck you in.” sunghoon teased, crossing his arms.

“boys that’s sweet, but im fine.” you laughed.

hesseung laughed, sunghoon’s ears going red. “oh, i meant jake.” sunghoon chuckled.

“oh, right.”

“but i can tuck you in, if you want.” jake smirked.

you looked at jake with a smile that could make jake melt, “i’m fine, go to bed,” to playfully pushed his shoulder.

it may have only been a littler after 10 pm, but you all were tired from endless television watching and classes earlier in the day.

“extra toothbrush is under the sink!” jake shouted before being pushed out of the room by heeseung.

before sunghoon shut his door behind him, he caught a glimpse of you taking off your hoodie. the one you kept on all night, keeping him from looking at your delicate and delicious skin.

“cock blockers.” jake huffed, shrugging heeseung off.

“have a normal conversation with her for more than 5 minutes, then maybe we’ll let you try to get in her pants.” heeseung scoffed.

heeseung and sunghoon bid goodnight to jake and went to their separate rooms, shutting their doors behind them.

jake lazily walked down the steps back to the couch in the living room, taking place were you sat all night, your scent still lingering.

jake’s face fell to the side, his nose inhaling your scent deeply, like he’ll never smell you again. before he knew it, he was taking his cock out of his pajama pants, it already stiff and leaking precome.

just the scent of you alone got him hard. he slowly began to use his palm to tease himself, running his thumb over his tip, trying to pretend it was your fingers, your hand, your skin on him.

how you would look so innocent with his thickness in between you. how you would mumble, and moan, and groan, and gasp. you may even giggle, or cry, or whimper. oh he would love to hear you whimper for him.

his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, adding pressure, as he added speed to his strokes, wishing it was your hands around him. wishing it was your pussy around him.

he was getting close to coming. ‘fuck,’ he whispered out your name with a long and low groan turning into a moan. it didn’t take long for ropes of white come to paint his hand and stomach, his free arm over his eyes as he had just came on the couch, shamelessly with you just right upstairs.

he fell asleep soon afterward, still holding his cock, semi-hard.

he next woke up around 4 am, cock hard once again, being startled from a very wet dream about you. fucking you on all fours in the back of his car, windows fogged, in the middle of the mall parking lot as he took you on a shopping spree. that was your thank you to him.

he had to pee, and peeing with a hard on was not the most sought out option. the half bath toilet downstairs was broken, so he had to use the upstairs hallway one. after a painful pee, and being quiet as possible, he finished his pee, and was still hard thanks to you.

maybe he would just peek and check in on you? make sure you know, no monsters have gotten you.

he opened his door slowly and quietly, seeing you laying still, breathing even. you laid on your back, one hand under your head, the other laid across your face, your nose and lips out.

the covers rested comfortably below your chest, jake smiled seeing the dark hoodie laying on one of his chairs beside his desk. you kept it off.

with a deep breath, he looked behind him, then quickly slid in his room, closing the door softly, tiptoeing closer to you.

his breath stuttered in his chest seeing your skin, your beauty, up close. you so still. he always wondered how you looked while sleeping.

he never had the balls or guts to break into your apartment while you slept. he tried it once, got the lock opened, but a neighbor opened her door then he chickened out and never tried again.

you looked so peaceful, innocent. your lips were parted slightly as you slept. he could just imagine your lips wrapped around his cock which was aching for you now.

he reached his fingers up slowly, and pulled the covers back gently, exposing your top, goosebumps rising to your skin, but you didn’t move. jake pulled the covers all the way down to your knees.

your shorts had risen up a bit, now closer to your cunt than before.

jake’s breathing halted for a moment. he could literally come in his pants.

his fingertip of his right hand traced your skin on your thigh up to your stomach, forcing the tank top up to expose your belly. so soft.

his fingertips traced over your curves, over your chest, your body filled with goosebumps, but you didn’t move an inch.

you were in a deep sleep. such a good girl for him.

he kneeled down by the side of his bed slowly, so his nose came close to your thigh. it’s like he could smell you, see a wet spot forming where your cunt met your underwear and shorts. just a taste—,

he was calmly and quickly ripped from you by the back of the neck, you still unfazed and asleep. he didn’t see who interrupted him until he was dragged out of his room by his neck and out in the hallway.

he whipped around to heeseung staring daggers. “what the fuck are you doing man! trying to catch a fucking charge?”

jake scoffed, scratching the back of his neck, “i wasn’t doing anything! i was just looking, i wasn’t going to touch or—,”

“looking is bad enough! while she’s sleeping! what the fuck is wrong with you!” heesung snapped.

on the other side of the door you felt cold, you took the hand off your face, reaching up to grab the blanket jake had slowly slid down your body.

panties wet, and you irked of frustration, maybe next time heeseung wouldn’t be around to interrupt.

uh so yeah wrote this while at work — so definitely not proof read | part two perhaps? 🤔

leave comments, thoughts, replies, reblogs, suggestions, send me messages!!! all of it!! 😚🩷

my inbox is lonely send me ideas 💌

thanks to anon who sent in the request AND sent ideas. hope i cooked something good for you and made you proud (you also said trust me a lot to make something good so a wee bit nervous!!) 💙

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yanderelovebites · 2 days ago

Text

Adding on: Barbara finds out and what leads to them coming back to Gotham

Barbara would be the one to find them. She’d be shocked and be like “WE THOUGHT YOU DIED OR SOMETHING?!” Sibling would be like “Almost did. Was shot. Three time, Miss Gordon. But I’m here. Meet my partner (insert partner). Now if you’ll excuse us we like dealing with the no bat zone, thank you very much. (Insert hero) isn’t nearly as annoying or hurtful.”

That would set it off for Barbara. “You’re telling me you’re hiding from them? Your family?” “Yes, yes I am. Not like they’d care, for fucks sake I got shot because dad didn’t. Anyway, what brings you to (city name)?”

Like she’d be so overwhelmed that ANOTHER ONE OF THEM WERE ASSUMED DEAD AND NO THEY’RE NOT! “This is like Jason all over again.” They’d say “Nah, he actually died first. Harley Quinn found me in time to take care of me before she crawled back to Joker.” That was the real punch to the gut. “You accepted the help of **her**?!”! They’d nod and say “best two months in my life in Gotham, really. Anyway and why is that a problem?” They don’t see this as substantial since Barbara knows what’s going on in the manor. They’d say “look I’m happy here, plus I’ve gone to therapy. I’m healing and this is home to me. Now me and partner need to get going.”

Barbara would be so confused and look into them herself because yeah. I feel like the biological version of sibling would be some type of doctor, usually a surgeon and not because Thomas Wayne was one, simply because deep down they do want to save lives. They just aren’t a hero.

An adopted sibling scenerio I’d envision more of a more passionate career. They’re either in business with a passionate love for their product or my personal favorite, a dog trainer. Specifically they train service dogs.

Barbara would tell the batfam when she gets back and they’re all, except the trio as they’re post sibling’s kidnapping, surprised. They’re alive?

Bruce obviously is relieved they’re safe, but then upset they never came home. I feel like he’d find Harley in jail and speak to her, pretending he’s asking in favor of Bruce Wayne, but she’d be like “Aw that poor kid? Yeah, I remember them. I was runnin’ from some people angry at Mr. J while we were on break. I hid and there the poor sugar was, three bullet wound. The guys must have been amateurs ‘cause not one hit any vitals. Bandaged them up and told me about their home life, didn’t blame ‘em for not wanting to go home. Why? Whatcha need about that sweetheart?” She laughs and says “Sounds to me they’re doin’ just fine on their own. Lemme guess, their family worried bout em?” Batman said they thought they were dead and she laughs again, “I didn’t hear anything about that. The amount of criminals here? Yeah, if they were to know that they’d fight over who hands em over. All for money.” He then says, “So you knew they’re a Wayne?” Harley nods, “Of course, I did!”

Dick is one of the worser to hear about all this. How could they prefer HARLEY QUINN over them? Or leaving Gotham than going back home?

Dick doesn’t understand it at all and is quite upset.

Jason isn’t as upset as everyone else. Jason isn’t anywhere near as yandere or obsessed because he’s been where she’s been sorta. His was way more traumatic, but he understands not wanting to come home. He also understands making herself something that isn’t Wayne, he’s actually kinda proud she could just move on. Yes this does make the rest of the family annoyed.

Tim? EXTREMELY annoyed that this is how they find out. He looks into it and there they are with their lover. He’ll be concerned if they’re a villain kid. He’ll look through everything and feel a pang in his heart. They wanted to help people. And they have.

The worst person is DAMIEN. Damien has been HAUNTED by images of her death and Alfred’s. He needed this, more than anything. He’s the worst one. He won’t settle for her ‘being happy’. For some time the others would attempt to keep him away from doing something irrational, especially Jason because again he gets **why** they didn’t come home.

The longest time it’s how it is. Bruce doesn’t want to compromise what appears to be a happy life for them. Especially when the hero in her current city says she’s doing okay, thinking he’s trying to help ‘Bruce Wayne’ feel okay about the child who went missing. Jason holds Damien back with the help from our three post-batsibling kids. Then it happens. Joker gets involved in the city because he being the dick he is, somehow knows the Bat’s identity (like in SOME iterations of Joker) and Joker decided to target batsibling. Batman is called via league and while helping the hero, Harley does turn on Joker once she realizes exactly what he was planning to do. Does joker question it? A little because it’s out of character for her to turn on him like that.

While they’re trying to save them by dealing with Joker, their partner would have found their way up. It’s even better if this is a villain kid because they probably hijacked their parent’s stuff to do this. Just when they think they’re safe they hear a gun go off and it got the partner.

Imagine bat sibling balling their eyes out, holding their lover’s corpse, while the heroes and Harley try to apprehend Joker. Then he goes for another shot which was in line to hit Batsibling, only for Harley to take the hit. This would be the last shot Joker could get.

Now if it’s a non-villain kid, it’s because Batman pinned him down, if it is a villain kid, the parent showed up and shot the gun out of Joker’s hand with one of their weapons and started to beat the crap out of him (didn’t kill him because that’s too good for him)

Villain would have been held back by their hero finally and once they’re calm (and joker is in custody lol) they’d tell the hero to let go. They’d have a whole ‘why so you can actually kill him’ and Bat sibling through choked sobs would say “He’s their son, (hero) please.”

That’s when Batman’s attention would solely look back at them. They’re no longer a child… a grown adult and they just witnessed what Bruce could only assume was their first love get murdered in front of them, trying to save them. He felt choked. “(Hero), let them go to them.”

The villain parent would rush by their dead child’s side and cradle them close. Their own child was gone FOREVER. Sibling would try saying sorry, that if they hadn’t come to save them, but villain wouldn’t hear it.

After the body is taken away, after everything… Bruce does talk to Sibling because while clearly he made his mistakes, if there was a time to be the father he’s supposed to be, it was then. At first sibling doesn’t want to hear it but Bruce ends up hugging them and saying what he could say. That he understands they just watch someone they really care about get shot and there was nothing they could have done to stop it from happening.

Sure the situation was different from when his parents died, but the emotional trauma was the same variety.

Bruce would also take full advantage of it and suggest they come back home, telling them about three new siblings she never got to meet and holding the info about Alfred, since they just lost their partner. Them, knowing they couldn’t afford to live in the apartment without their partner and knowing this city would just torment them with the past, agreed to after they put in for a transfer and go to their partner’s funeral. Bruce stays in a luxury hotel in the city, texting Tim who’d handle this the best in his mind, what was going on.

But this isn’t some tragedy you walk away from for family and magically heal over night. Nor can they really heal in the bat mansion, especially not without Alfred.

Add more about when she comes back in another reblog.

You know I’d love a batfam neglects batsis/batbro that starts not when they’re brought into the family… but show it as nightmares, flashbacks, etc. warning dead Alfred.

Have batsis/batbro move on in another hero’s city as to avoid them. Have them live happy in whatever profession of their dreams after finding themselves. Not the version behind Wayne manor, truly them. Fall in love with someone (maybe a hero kid or something. Hell secret villain kid) and every time they feel good they hear news of justice league, of bat man. Some nightmares… flashbacks…

Have each unfold the story slowly until you get to the climax, what TRULY happened. They didn’t come to this city under the best circumstances no. The reality was they were kidnapped for a hostage situation and Bruce never paid, forgot them and thought it was a fake. A scam. They survived by mere luck. They shot them and left them to rot, but much to their surprise Harley Quinn found them and helped them—it was one of her ‘redemption’ periods before going back to the Joker but she still saved them. A villain saved their life when their own family wouldn’t. That’s when they left, when she went back. They had no reason to stay and built a life away from them all. Have them confess to their lover about what happened….

Then switch to the bat family currently.

Cassandra, Steph, and Duke never knew them. They look at the few portraits of them in the manor and wonder what they were like, they don’t have the full story. The others had other varying reactions when they’re brought up. They had so many questions but since Alfred’s death, there was no one willing to tell them.

Tim still kept an eye through his skills and connections hoping to find them. He had figured out first after he noticed their lack of presence about the call Bruce had awhile back that he had a hostage situation. Bruce had been second to hear the conclusion that Tim had, that it was no scam because they had batsis/batbro. He knew they were likely dead but he couldn’t rest until a body is found… or they come back.

Damian gets quickly irritated, but he has nightmares at night that he’d never admit to or tell anyone about. He was younger, but they weren’t strong. Normally that would make him disregard them or just insult them when mentioned… but he can’t. Not anymore. At first, he’d just remember how he treated them, not these horrific nightmares, but then Alfred died. The nightmares came, repeating how Alfred died… then images of all the things that could have happened to batsis/batbro. In some, he saw a demon-like version of himself killing them… it shouldn’t bother him… but it does.

With Dick, he would wander close to their room when he was in the manor. He’d go in and look at their school achievements and the photos they had with coaches and instructors… with Alfred. He didn’t get nightmares, he barely slept since they told him what probably happened. So, so many unkept promises he’d probably never get to make up for. One picture had disappeared from the room, he never knew who had it.

Jason felt pissed every time he remembers anything about them. He avoided the manor more than ever. He blamed Bruce, but he knew deep down they all had a contribution. He was horrible to them in life and he fully believes they’re dead. He doesn’t see how they wouldn’t have come home if they were.

Then there’s poor Bruce. He lives in denial. That they’re somehow still alive. That missing picture? He took it out the frame and kept it with him. It was one of their birthdays, they had baked their own cake with Alfred and Alfred took a picture of the two of them after. He remembers he never made it home to wish them happy birthday. He made so many mistakes, let his vigilante work consume him so he forgot he had more in his life besides it. And it’s likely he lost that for good.

All means they’re obsessed about finding the truth, finding them. But when will they realize they aren’t in their city?

#yandere #yandere x reader #batfam neglect #batfam x batsis #batman #batsis!reader #batsis #yandere batfam #dc #bat siblings #bat bro #batfam x batbro #it’s gotten dark but will it get darker? probably this is Batman

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spaceyaemonds · 3 days ago

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pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: jack finally decides to give you your ring.

warnings: none??? a child/parenthood? maybe implied angst?? reader did get into a car accident while pregnant and that is also mentioned here! minors DNI

notes: this is how jack (doesn’t) propose! just a short lil something. i do still intend to have part 7 posted tomorrow!! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 649

set in this universe

Jack creeps in as quietly as he can, hoping that Bug isn’t up yet so he can at least shower before making her breakfast.

The apartment is quiet, and he’s sure to go press a kiss to your head as he makes his way to the ensuite attached to your bedroom, showering quickly so he can go make breakfast for the three of you.

He makes his way back to the bedroom, hair still damp as he sits at the edge of the bed to put his prosthetic back on.

You, as always, catch his eye.

He hopes Bug’s been good. She’s going through a phase where she doesn’t sleep all night and constantly wakes up, probably because she’s teething.

He would prefer to be there on those nights, but knows you unfortunately get the brunt of that more often than he would care to admit.

Jack watches you a few moments longer, eyes tracing the features of your face, a face he could describe blind.

He’s loved you since the first time he slept in your bed, well watched you sleep in your bed. He bought a ring two days later on the way to work, and it’s sat in the bottom of his backpack ever since.

A dainty band with a big diamond that he just hasn’t worked up the courage to give you. Not that he thinks you’d say no, but after having it so long, he can’t think of a good way to ask.

Jack didn’t want to trap you, or make you feel trapped, in this situation if you didn’t want to be, so despite just knowing deep in his chest, he didn’t ask when he bought the ring.

Didn’t ask when you cried to him and told him your fears of motherhood. Didn’t ask when you’d been rolled into the ED after getting rear ended at a stoplight by some jackass who wasn’t paying attention, when he felt like he was gonna die watching Shen stitched the gash on your temple while you hyperventilated as Ellis’ shaky hand tried to find the baby’s heartbeat. Didn’t ask when tears streamed down his cheeks and he smiled the biggest smile he had in years when he held your baby for the first time.

Despite the dozens of opportunities to ask, he never could bring himself to do it.

But watching you now, something stirs deeper than it usually does.

So, in true Jack Abbot fashion, he goes and quietly digs the ring out of his bag.

He slips it on your left ring finger when he comes back in the room, kissing the side of your mouth twice before turning the baby monitor on your nightstand off and going to wake up his baby.

She looks just like you, everyone agrees. From her nose to her toes, she’s all you.

Especially when she pouts up at him with little tears lining her eyes.

“Oh, you poor, pitiful baby,” He coos at her as he picks her up and kisses her head repeatedly, “Daddy’s poor baby. You had a long night huh?”

He gets a squawk in reply.

Thirty minutes later, his girl is changed and eating some mashed bananas, giggling at every face Jack makes at her.

He feels you before he sees you as you wrap yourself around him and bury his face in his neck. He feels a wetness and the shaky breath you exhale as you squeeze him tight against you.

“I love you.”

One hand reaches up to hold your arm, “I love you more,”

Jack watches as her eyes light up when you look at her, hands clapping together as she lets out another giggle before fisting at her mashed bananas.

You let out another wet laugh as you angle your head towards your fiancé to kiss him as deeply as you can while Bug is distracted by her bananas.

#the pitt x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #i need a tag for them #i love love love them #let me know what you think!!!!#🐝 writes #🐝 writes: the pitt

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witheredwritings · 2 days ago

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Hello, I am wondering if u take request for a Tony Stark x female reader, who is also best friend of Tony Stark before he came Iron Man but she has been by his side through everything as well. But it’s a fluff one shot as at the end where they both reveal their feelings for each other which they had from the moment they met and they have their first kiss between them as well.

Ofcoursee, here it is! Hope you like it :)

Virtual Insanity

Summary: In which the infamous line "make love not war" isn't well-respected by this pair of friends. When cyberbullying at Stark industries level develops into a game between these two collegues and friends, something more begins to unravel between the two.

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: none except Tony's unsufferable ego (all jokes)

A/N: This is a short oneshot. Might turn into more. I'm also still working on the "Soft in the right hands" series for bucky so stay tuned!

You’d known Tony Stark long enough to remember when he didn’t wear the suit — physically or emotionally.

Back then, he was all sharp smiles and sharper intellect, more interested in building arc reactors with cocktail napkin schematics than charming investors. Reckless with nearly everything except the way he treated you. Somehow, against all odds, you’d slipped past the velvet rope that guarded the real him — the sleepless inventor who showed up on your fire escape at 3AM with a bottle of Scotch and a theory about thermal diffusion that couldn’t wait till morning.

You were best friends before Afghanistan. Before Iron Man. Before Stark Tower had its own AI department and a floor reserved just for “Tony’s regrets, part I through XXV.”

And none of that stopped him from hacking your firewall during lunch.

You were approximately three minutes into a well-deserved lunch break — grilled cheese in hand, Spotify playlist on shuffle, and the sanctity of a lab entirely free of explosions — when your firewall went up in flames.

Digitally speaking.

The code on your main monitor began to twitch. Literally twitch. Then twist. And then it smiled at you. A little pixelated smiley face blinked up from the line of code you’d just written, followed by a dancing ASCII cat wearing sunglasses.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, setting your sandwich down like it had betrayed you.

You knew that coding style.

You knew exactly who was responsible.

With the patience of a saint and the energy of someone who was one click away from snapping, you launched into the system’s backend, pulling apart the layers of the digital graffiti with expert ease, unraveling each line of smug Stark-ware. And sure enough, right at the root folder, embedded in a hidden command string, was a line of text:

"Nice firewall, sweetheart. 7/10. Would hack again. - T.S."

Your eye twitched. Your soul twitched.

He didn’t just breach your system. He decorated it. That wasn’t a hack — it was a housewarming party in enemy territory.

The man had billions of dollars, a global tech empire, multiple Iron Man suits, and — apparently — nothing better to do than hack into your secure files during his downtime like a caffeinated raccoon with a superiority complex.

You were going to kill him. Slowly. Or worse — give him a lecture so long and boring it could be classified as psychological warfare.

And thus, the war began.

With your jaw clenched and your heart pounding in that very specific, very annoying way it only ever did around Tony, you stormed out of your lab and stomped down the hallway of Stark Tower.

You bypassed three interns and a mildly offended elevator AI before slamming open his door like righteous judgment. Finally, you flung open the doors to his R&D suite without knocking.

Tony didn’t flinch.

Sleeves rolled up, arc reactor glowing, fingers dancing across a holographic interface. He looked up. Grinned.

“Hey, sunshine,” Tony said lazily from behind a table cluttered with open panels, a half-dismantled drone, and at least three coffee cups. “I was just thinking about you."

“You’re a menace.”

“I’ve been called worse.” He finally looked up, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “But usually by people who didn’t bother updating their encryption protocols.”

You crossed your arms. “You hacked into my system during lunch, Stark. That’s below the belt. I was eating grilled cheese.”

“Maybe next time add some brie and fig jam. Class it up a little.” He grinned. “You’re welcome, by the way. I just gave you a free security audit.”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Did your ego eat your moral compass for breakfast?”

He stood, sauntering over like confidence incarnate in a Henley and jeans, and leaned against the edge of the workbench — arms crossed, smirk fully loaded.

“I’d argue my ego is my moral compass. And it always points due north to: mess with you.”

“You hacked my system,” you repeated.

He tilted his head. “If I can break in, so can Hydra. I’m doing you a favor.”

You crossed your arms. “This is the third time this month you've done something like this. Last week, you turned my digital assistant into a sassy version of yourself. I had to argue with my microwave for twenty minutes before it would heat my soup.”

He beamed. “He’s got a personality now! Named him Toasty.”

“I’m going to rewrite your DNA.”

“Only if we cuddle after.”

You were going to scream. Or kiss him. It was a very fine line these days.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said conversationally.

He grinned wider. “You’re going to miss me.”

So instead, you narrowed your eyes and said, “I hope you like Shakespeare just as much as JARVIS does.”

He blinked. “What?”

You pulled your phone from your pocket, already typing."Your little AI pet seems to have brushed up on his Shakespeare, because he’s about to speak exclusively in iambic pentameter for the next twenty-four hours."

“Wait. No—”

“And make all puns food-themed.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “You’re a monster.”

You shrugged, already walking toward the door. “Some people bake sourdough for fun. I emotionally sabotage billionaire AIs.”

Tony groaned. “JARVIS

, don’t you dare—”

“Verily, sir,” JARVIS chimed in serenely from the overhead speaker, “I find thy attitude rather cheesy, like brie upon a croissant most greasy.”

Tony’s head hit the desk.

You smirked. “Toasty says hi.”

It went on like that for weeks.

Tony retaliated by installing a movement sensor in your lab. Every time you entered, SexyBack blared at full volume. FRIDAY wouldn’t let you disable it. She said it was “legally classified as a morale booster.”.

It was a war.

You replaced his AI’s voice with Gilbert Gottfried reading Twilight.

Tony responded by having your smartwatch shout hourly affirmations about his hair.

You hacked his suit’s startup sequence. Now it greeted him with:

“Iron Man: The Human Hot Pocket. Online.”

It didn’t stop there.

He replaced your screensaver with a live feed of himself winking, finger guns included.

You programmed his coffee maker to scream “INCOMING!” every time it dispensed espresso.

Naturally, collateral damage was inevitable.

Bruce’s tablet was cursed to play Baby Shark whenever opened. He developed a twitch.

Sam’s Falcon gear announced all takeoffs with: “I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”

Steve’s toaster quoted Pride and Prejudice in Cher’s voice.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged,” it belted one morning, “that a single man in possession of breakfast must be in want of jam.”

He punched a wall. You both got fined.

Even Clint, ever the stealthy one, wasn’t spared. Every time he drew an arrow, it whispered “pew pew” in Tony’s voice.

The tower teetered on the brink of chaos.

Pepper threatened to move to Dubai.

It was late.

The Tower was asleep, mostly. Except for Tony, who you found in the R&D lounge, hoodie on, arc reactor glowing soft under worn fabric. He looked… still. A rare moment for a man who moved like his thoughts could outrun time.

“You gonna yell at me for the coffee pot thing?” he asked, not looking up.

“I should,” you said, easing into the seat beside him. “FRIDAY tried to launch a counterstrike when I made a cappuccino.”

“She’s passionate.”

Silence fell. He just stared at you like he was debating something he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head.

You blinked. “What?”

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, “Do you want me to stop?”

You frowned. “Stop what?”

“The pranks. The hacking. I mean, I know it’s probably childish and annoying and… I don’t know. Maybe I just like having a reason to see you all worked up, to just see you more.”

You sat back, heart thudding.

“That,” you said slowly, “is the least emotionally articulate confession I’ve ever heard.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. I build flying suits, not feelings.”

You stood and walked over, stopping inches from him. His breath hitched, and yours did too.

“For the record,” you said, “I love your flying suits. But I also kind of love… this.”

He blinked. “The chaos?”

“The banter. The sabotage. The way your face lights up when you think you’ve outsmarted me, even though I’m always two steps ahead.”

“Debatable,” he muttered.

You leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“And I love the way you look at me like I’m the only firewall you’ve never wanted to break.”

He stilled.

Then: “I’ve been in love with you since the day you fried that Russian botnet and called it ‘a poorly coded insult to my intelligence.’”

You smiled.

And then, you kissed him.

It was messy and hot and gloriously overdue. His hands cupped your face like he’d been dying to do it for years, and your fingers curled into his shirt like gravity had given up and he was your anchor now.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he whispered, “I should have hacked you sooner.”

You smacked his shoulder. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

He did.

And that night, neither of you changed each other’s passwords.

You called a truce.

Sort of.

Now your prank war has a rulebook and a scoreboard. Nat is the referee. Bruce runs support (begrudgingly). Steve is still in therapy.

JARVIS still speaks in sonnets during thunderstorms. Toasty hosts a podcast. FRIDAY hosts a revenge fund.

A year later, Tony proposed via custom hologram code embedded in your firewall — romantic, glitchy, and absolutely extra.

You said yes.

And now, sometimes, late at night, you’ll find yourselves coding side-by-side, teasing each other like always — except now, there’s no more pretending.

Just love. Loud, messy, sarcastic love. With bad lighting, too much coffee, and more happiness than either of you thought you’d ever deserve.

And every morning, when you walk into the lab, “SexyBack” still plays.

You don’t stop it anymore.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Don't hesitate to leave a comment behind <3

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leupagus · 2 days ago

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Friendship is magic and probably also a mistake

GUS: broke: mohan/abbot, collins/robby woke: mohan/abbot/robby, collins/abbot/robby bespoke: collins/mohan/abbot/robby do u see my vision

ETBEN: Senior leadership polycule shitshow I dig!

GUS: I feel like it would happen in the stupidest possible way like collins and mohan would be all about setting boundaries and establishing parameters meanwhile PTSD and PTSDer would be like "whoops I followed you home so now I'm your problem"

ETBEN: SOBBING laughing at “PTSD and PTSDer” That’s such a perfect description (Abbot is PTSD, obviously)

GUS: I think they swap out

ETBEN: I mean, whose PTSD is worse, probably, yes But I feel like Abbot is much more in tune with his shit

GUS: ehhh he listens to the police scanner on his day off he's a pretty hot mess

ETBEN: I think he knows that he HAS PTSD, is my baseline Like, I think he probably has more PTSD than he acknowledges / PTSD from other things But like…I think he does at least know that

GUS: thats a good point

ETBEN: Is he coping well? No! Absolutely not! But he will at least acknowledge the diagnosis, albeit unwillingly

GUS: whereas - yeah robby is Fine Actually

ETBEN: Whereas I don’t know that Robby would even be able to put the words “I have PTSD” in a sentence He’s just having a rough day! To be fair I do think some of it is that PTSD from combat is a lot more…recognized? Mediatized? Plus he lost a leg, so you know they made him go to therapy about that Whereas Robby…like, sure, he knows the statistics about secondary trauma and compassion fatigue and burnout in healthcare providers But that’s not him!

GUS: He's 100% that meme of "it's so important to talk about your feelings and deal with your issues. I'm not gonna but you guys totally should" Not that I want Collins and Mohan to "fix" them or whatever they can fix themselves I just think the four of them in a polycule would be so fucking funny Especially if it's a babyfic they get together because Collins finally has her baby and they're all kind of roped in to be parents

WHETHERWOMAN: Yesssss put babies on Robby Tbh I feel like Mohan would be shit with babies Which of course means the baby smiles at her first

GUS: 1000% Mohan is not a baby person but picture it - collins has a baby and for some reason (probably the same reason that made her thinking getting preggers in her last year of residency was a good life choice) thinks "oh it's smooth sailing from here on out" cue her baby being like, rosemary's baby level of demonspawn who never ever stops crying and she's like "haha yes this is all FINE" and dana being like "honey" and organizing a babysitter rota for her similar to the one she had for her own kids

WHETHERWOMAN: Oh yeah just constant never ending colic Must be upright and bounced 24/7 I want Collins waking up after a blissfully quiet nights sleep and finding Robby making pancakes in her kitchen with the baby strapped on his chest. And just being HORRIFIED.

GUS: YES Robby: I was on the rota! didn't you see the rota? Collins: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE (with her mouth stuffed with pancakes) Robby: I will as soon as I clean up spoilers: Collins falls asleep on the couch by the time he cleans up and Robby's like "okay kid let's do some LAUNDRY" *bounce bounce bounce baby: bah

WHETHERWOMAN: "Cleaning up" the pancakes involves three loads of laundry

GUS: Also I want some begrudging cuddling where Collins is feeding the baby while leaning against Robby's chest because the baby won't let go of his ugly hoodie

WHETHERWOMAN: Oh noooooooo

GUS: so they're all tangled together and she's like "ugh this is so nice gross" and falls asleep again meanwhile robby is doing his best Dug "I hid under the porch because I love you" impression

WHETHERWOMAN: The spitting image of Dug

GUS: he definitely gets distracted by squirrels and/or rats so I'm trying to decide who gets roped in next everyone at least is in and out of the house - oH ALSO I found out that for a lot of ER doctors/nurses, especially the ones making bank, they usually like rent a place near to work and then on their stretches of time off they actually have a house house in the boonies somewhere because er shifts are so weird - you're basically 12 on 12 off for three or four days and then you have four or three days off

WHETHERWOMAN: …. oh that's why my childhood friend who's dad was an ER doctor in LA lived in Santa Barbara That makes much more sense in retrospect

GUS: so like collins doesn't have second house money but robby and abbot DEFINITELY do actually the funniest thing would be if collins accidentally moves into abbot's house IDK why, we can figure that out later but robby moves in to and abbot's like… ok this might as well happen

WHETHERWOMAN: It's somehow Dana's fault

GUS: 100% dana is the yenta of the pitt

WHETHERWOMAN: Also this way she wins the pool

GUS: LMAOOO meanwhile the rest of the pitt crew are rotating in and out at all hours including mohan who's like, super awkward but very earnest as she is in all things and somehow she's the catalyst that finally gets all of them sleeping together mostly through being very mohan about the whole thing she has a power point presentation collins is like "I kind of want to make out with you just knowing you made this"

#the pitt fic #the pitt is a slapstick tragedy #I just want collins and abbot to be roommates with secret feelings #whereas robby's and mohan's feelings are SUPER LOUD ALL THE TIME FEELINGS #one of them's jewish and one of them's genz they're never gonna shut up ever

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poorsallystitches · 1 day ago

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Censored Chinese BLs I love for people who don't know what they are or want to find more.

Censored Chinese dramas refer to Chinese dramas that are based on gay source material and are adapted to screen, but due to strict restrictions in China, they must redact most of the gay interactions. Even so, Chinese productions work on a little budget and use workarounds to make the romance as clear as possible without getting taken off air. Some fail, some succeed. All of them make it pretty clear to viewers, though, that these characters are in love.

Also, for non Cdrama watchers, most Cdramas are LONG. I'm talking 30-45 minute episodes for 30 episodes on average, so if you want to start one get ready for an investment. There are shorter ones, but honestly, I think it's worth the investment.

Continue on for examples and recs.

The Untamed (2019)- The big boy. If anyone tells you they watch Chinese bromance, this one was likely their first. It is the most popular among these. It's on Netflix.

Word of Honor (2021) - Another popular one and this one got some of the most in your face gay shenanigans on screen. Also, one of their workarounds was having the actors mouth much gayer lines and dub it over (All Chinese audio is dubbed over in dramas). Maybe they just were at a good time period, maybe because the actors were so popular, maybe the censors were asleep, but we love her. Also, on Netflix.

Guardian (2018)- Another more popular one kinda makes a trifecta with the other two. This one got away with some good moments. I can only now find it on YouTube, but the audio sometimes gets cut off.

Killer and Healer (2021)- This one is a lot less popular than the first three. They got away with quite a bit but got even more cut out, but this one has its deleted scenes available to view online! Available on Viki and Youtube.

Winter Begonia (2020)- This one got a little bigger because of how artistic it is. It had a beautiful setting and costuming. They have a bit of a slow burn, but they definitely have their moments. Available on Viki.

S.C.I. Mystery (2018)- A household name purely because they got away with so much. Including a kiss disguised as CPR, sleeping in the same bed, etc. The budget is TINY, though, so if you can't handle everything looking like a set and poor graphics, this might not be for you. On Youtube.

Justice in the Dark (2023)- Not yet completed and has been on the back burner for a couple of years, but she's back baby, now airing in Japan. Pretty heavy on the gay, thus why they didn't pass censors after episode 8. I have no idea where to watch it. Fans are working on subbing.

Spirealm (2024)- Also one of the dramas that nearly didn't make it. Got put up, taken down, put back up on a different site. But she exists, and it is one of the gayest dramas on this list. I would say it beats out what Word of Honor got away with. On Viki.

Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty (2020)- This drama feels gay most of the time, straight for a short period of time, but they had nice moments, and they had a higher budget, directed by Jackie Chan, so you know the fighting is good. On Viki.

Advance Bravely (2017)- Started reading the book, but I have only seen clips of the show. It looks like it has potential in that older show, cheesy way, but they certainly got away with a lot because they were earlier in the timeline. On Viki and IQiyi.

Stand by Me (2023)- Haven't finished this one yet, but it is up there in chemistry. It was really hard to find, but it is on WeTV. No gifs unfortunately.

Honorable Mentions

Addicted (2016)- A canonically gay drama, the only canon gay drama to be made and released in China pre-ban. It is toxic, I warn you. It was made in 2016, prime toxic BL time. We must honor those who came before, though. It was canceled halfway through. Available on YouTube and Viki.

Meet You at the Blossom (2024)- Another canon BL, this one picked up in Thailand. The actors are Chinese, the language, and the backdrop. Everything behind the scenes is thai. It is also toxic, but less than Addicted, another win for Chinese BL, opening up possibilities.

The rest will not be based on gay source material but feel at the same level as the others on the list.

Mysterious Lotus Casebook (2023) - I feel that the new Chinese tactic to convey gay subtext and cover it up is to make everyone act equally romantic toward everyone, which in turn is creating polycules, which is lovely for me. This drama is no exception. Available on IQiyi.

Fangs of Fortune (2024) - A much larger and more complicated polycule complete with lesbians and straights. Available on IQiyi.

Silent Criminal (2020) - This one felt like it was supposed to be gay, and they tried to shove a female lead between them to diffuse the tension. Available on Viki and IQiyi.

Wuliang (2020) - I gotta be honest, when I first saw this movie, I didn't get the hype, but after some time I really appreciate the visuals and themes that have stuck with me, I think it was just too short. Unavailable legally without a vpn.

Yin Yang Master (2020) - This movie was very much an enemies to lovers sub plot with a fantastical main plot that looks beautiful. Available on Netflix.

Any Lost Tomb Adaptation (2015-2025) - The ships in this franchise span books, movies, shows, comics, etc. They are visible in any adaptation, so feel free to explore.

A League of Nobleman (2023) - This one is also a nice polycule opportunity. It feels lighter than some of the others on the list, but still very much a bromance. Available on Viki.

Under the Skin (2022) - This one makes me more unsure whether it was intended to even be a bromance at all, but by the second season they definitely blossomed into something beautiful and they are backdropped by some amazing and unique plots and cases. There are also some sweet shipping possibilities within, but I don't want to spoil. Available on Viki.

My Roommate is a Detective (2020) - Now this one was definitely meant to be a bromance, but also a straight romance. Unfortunately, the female lead drove me absolutely up the wall, then when they had another chance with the same two leads and director to do another drama called Checkmate, it was boring, so... start at your own peril and be warned, I am no women hater, she is just... you'll see.

I know of more, but these are the only ones I have at least seen enough to suggest (or not) to other people. I thought all this time spent on this media might as well be used somehow. Hopefully this helps you find a new drama or a new type of drama or dramas in general. Happy watching!

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til-all-are-loved · 3 days ago

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{This Charming Man}

Chapter 11 - Permission / Flesh for Fantasy

word count 4.7 k ao3

You hadn’t intended to keep working.

After everything that was said you figured you’d step down quietly. You had submitted your resignation. You had meant it. But then nothing happened. No acknowledgement, no reply. No shuttle rerouted back to Earth, no official directive from Ultra Magnus or your Earth-side handlers. Just... silence.

So you kept showing up. One more report. One more meeting. One more datapad handed off without fanfare. It was just easier to pretend. And if Megatron had noticed your quiet return to routine, he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much at all.

The leadership meeting was uneventful—until it wasn’t.

Rodimus was at the front of the room, leaned lazily against the edge of the holo-console like he had nowhere else to be. Ultra Magnus stood beside him with arms crossed and optics narrowed, which was his default setting. Megatron sat to the side, as still as stone.

You took your usual seat. No one commented on it.

Rodimus tapped the screen, bringing up a star chart. “Alright, next matter—access clearance. Our planned route takes us through the C-X Expanse. There’s a neutral outpost in our path. Bureaucratic nonsense. We need someone to represent us at the station’s orbital council gathering so they’ll authorize passage.”

You blinked. “A... gathering?”

“Not a big deal,” Rodimus said with a dismissive wave. “They call it a ‘civic summit.’ It’s basically a glorified mixer with a roster and badge scanners. Show up, smile politely, leave with stamped clearance. Whole thing takes one night, maybe two.”

You glanced at Megatron. He hadn’t moved.

Rodimus continued, voice light. “Which is why I’m assigning our esteemed ambassador,” he gestured to you, “and our reformed co-captain—” he gestured at Megatron, “to attend on behalf of the Lost Light.”

Megatron’s optics finally lifted. “I fail to see why my presence is necessary.” His voice landed low and professionally.

You wanted it to slip, just a little. Enough to tell you this was affecting him too.

“You’re a captain,” Rodimus said brightly. “Other captains will be there.”

Megatron, flatly: “So it’s politics.”

Rodimus shrugged. “Call it diplomacy if that helps.”

You spoke carefully. “We’ll be expected to represent the ship’s position on what exactly?”

“Trade neutrality, expedition rights, cultural cooperation, you know.” Rodimus grinned. “The usual fluff. It wouldn’t hurt to score the Cybertronian race some brownie points, would it? ”

“Which you’re not attending yourself?” Megatron asked.

“I’m terribly allergic to bureaucracy,” Rodimus replied. “Also, the last time I was there, I might’ve punched someone. This is a cleaner option, besides Megatron. You’re so much more reserved nowadays, more than me, even.”

Silence settled again. Megatron vented once, slow and steady.

“Very well,” he said at last.

Rodimus beamed. “Knew you'd see reason. Departure's scheduled for tomorrow. You'll be taking Shuttle Three.”

Magnus gave a subtle nod.

“Any questions?” Rodimus added.

You exchanged a look with Megatron. It wasn’t the old, easy kind of look, the kind you used to pass back and forth when Rodimus was being especially dramatic. But it wasn’t cold either.

“No questions,” you said.

“Cool.” Rodimus clapped his hands. “Meeting adjourned.”

The others began filing out. You gathered your notes. Megatron left without a word.

As you turned to follow, Rodimus blocked your exit.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “One last thing.”

You paused.

“Pack a dress.”

You blinked. “Sorry—what?”

He grinned. “The summit’s not a briefing. It’s a party.”

You stared at him.

Rodimus winked, then turned on his heel and sauntered away.

The day of the assignment came faster than expected.

You hadn’t been nervous until now. You’d gotten through the briefings, the logistics updates, the security checks. You even made it through a mind-numbingly long discussion with an outpost liaison who spoke exclusively in caveats and procedural jargon. And still, you’d been fine.

Until you stepped into your quarters and realized it was time to get ready.

Your heart hammered.

You used to go to parties. Back in school—whatever version of that counted for you—it wasn’t a rare thing. Dress up, sneak drinks, pretend the night meant something. There were Greek life mixers and graduate socials and “girls' night” events where you'd trade outfits with your friends and laugh too hard and take pictures you’d regret the next morning.

But this felt nothing like that.

This wasn’t just a party. This was something else entirely. You weren’t even sure what it was.

You peeled off your uniform and stood in your undershirt for a long moment, staring down at the bag on your cot. “Pack a dress,” Rodimus had said, the smug bastard.

Still… you did pack one. A nice one. Just in case.

You tugged it out and started changing.

If he was wrong and it wasn’t a party—well, at least you’d feel more put together than usual. You could pretend this wasn’t about him. You could pretend you weren’t dressing for anyone.

Halfway through fixing your hair, a familiar jingle came from your doorbell comm console. Swerve’s voice crackled through before you could answer.

“Hey, uh. Just heard you’re shipping out with the Captain tonight. You two good?”

You blinked at your reflection. “We’re fine.”

“That’s not a yes.”

You snorted. “Do you need something?”

“Just to say: If he wears a tie, I’m gonna lose my mind. You’ll tell me, right?”

“Swerve.”

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving. Have fun storming the diplomatic summit!”

The line clicked off.

You stared at yourself in the mirror again. You didn’t look like someone heading to a summit. You looked like someone waiting to be seen.

The shuttle ride was quiet.

You sat across from Megatron, hands folded in your lap, watching stars streak past the viewport while he reviewed mission data in silence. You didn’t talk. Neither of you had to.

When you finally landed, the docking clamps hissed and released, and the ramp unfolded with a smooth hydraulic sigh.

The station was vast. Even through the heavy atmosphere filters of the landing bay, you could feel the sheer scale of it. It was a satellite city, several times the size of the Lost Light. Lights streamed along the outer hull. Protocol drones hovered near arrivals, scanning new entrants and assigning escorts. Dozens of ships had already arrived.

And stepping down the ramp with Megatron at your side, it became clear: this wasn’t some dry diplomatic formality. This was a display. Delegates gathered in pairs. Some arm-in-arm, others shoulder-to-shoulder. A soft orchestral score drifted in the air, piped through public speakers. Everyone was dressed to be seen.

And then you noticed it. The way some delegates looked at you then at Megatron. The slight pause. The way they waited, as if expecting something. Your breath caught as the realization settled. A formalized social display. Everyone was arriving together.

Megatron paused at your side. His optics narrowed as he scanned the crowd, as if parsing new information.

You felt your voice catch slightly. “We’re... expected to look like a pair.”

He tilted his head.

"Is this a procession?"

You blinked, realizing your mouth was slightly open. You shut it, trying to remember what words were.

"No," you said, voice low. "This is a grand ball."

Megatron glanced around the hall again, this time with clearer understanding. Guests posed for cameras. Couples walked arm in arm. Every movement was calculated and beautiful.

His gaze drifted back to you, catching on the line of your shoulders, the cut of your dress.

"That explains the dress."

There was no irony in it. No dryness. Just a quiet, pointed observation. His gaze lingered on you for one, two heartbeats.

He exvented slowly. “A moment, please.”

He doubled back slowly at first, then turned the corner and presumably doubled back to the shuttle.The echo of his pounding footsteps over the music made you wince. Too loud. Too fast. Too Megatron.

A few breaths passed, from around the corner you heard your name be called.

You turned to look and your throat nearly closed.

Tall. Easily over six feet. Broad-shouldered, dark heavy duster tailored in sharp lines. It was amusing, his stylistic choices didn’t quite suit the modern male style on earth, at least not any that you encountered like this. His design held an individualistic sentiment almost like that of alternative subcultures but tempered to flatter an older man…

White streaks cut through silver hair at his temples, swept back in a style that looked effortless but wasn't. It exposed a tall square shaped forehead revealing somewhat deep age lines.

The cut of his jaw was too clean to be real. His cheekbones were knife-sharp. His mouth serious, stern, perfectly sculpted. Beneath that familiar pout was a trimmed goatee, it seemed to mirror his cybertronian features perfectly.And his eyes. Not the usual deep red of his optics. These were dark, warm. Smoldering. Intelligent. Still him.

He turned to you slightly, as if unsure how you'd react.

You just stared.

Not because you didn’t recognize him. Because you did. Because it felt like seeing a secret he’d kept from you. A weaponized version of restraint. And damn if it didn’t work.

He didn’t move at first. Just let you look at him.

Then wryly: “You’re staring.”

You blinked hard. “Am I not supposed to?”

His mouth twitched at the corner. “I’m not used to being... admired.”

“Get used to it,” you said before thinking. Your voice came out smaller than intended.

He stepped toward you, closing the short distance between you both. Still at a respectful length, but no longer distant. The ambient glow of the station lights danced across his avatar’s shoulders, catching on subtle metallic threading in the long coat he’d chosen.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

The act suddenly felt so... pointed. Symbolic. A thousand subtle cues passed between delegates in this place. Every pair walking together was making a statement.

But then, in a quiet motion, you turned your hand and touched the bend of his elbow. Permission.

In his expression you caught surprise, maybe, or a recalibration. He adjusted instantly, offering his arm in full, his other hand resting behind his back with courtly precision.You tested his bicep briefly, if he noticed he didn't show it.

His voice was low, soft at your ear as you began walking together.

“Thank you for not recoiling,” he murmured. “This form is... experimental.”

You glanced at him sidelong. “You’re handling it well.”

“I’ve studied human posture,” he said, tone just dry enough to be self-aware. “And basic expressions of chivalry .”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked down at you, just the faintest glimmer in his eye. “Am I convincing you?”

You exhaled a single laugh. “A little too much.”

Your steps fell into a rhythm as the two of you moved through the grand hall, drawing more than a few curious looks. He didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Let’s get a drink,” you said, nodding toward the curved crystalline bar set into the far wall. Its base glowed with a slow pulse of color. Sleek-bellied glasses and phosphorescent bottles stood in minimalist display behind the counter, flanked by a bartender bot with an absolutely judgmental visor.

Megatron gave a slight nod. “Excellent idea. I believe I’m expected to make small talk soon, and I’d rather do it with a glass in hand.”

The two of you veered toward the bar, your arm still lightly tucked in his, the brush of his sleeve against your skin doing terrible things to your heart rate. You could feel the temperature rising in your own face—not from nerves, exactly, but from the proximity. The attention. And maybe from the fact that he was enjoying it, too. Not smugly. Not with power. But with something approaching pleasure. Delight, even.

The bar was sleeker up close, an art installation as much as a service station. Its surface shifted in subtle, mirrored waves beneath your fingers, like water frozen in the middle of movement. As you approached, Megatron let your arm go, his hand trailing away with practiced grace.

You ordered first, voice clear, posture composed. Megatron followed suit, his tones measured and surprisingly casual. He let you lead, a novelty in itself.

A pair of delegates sidled up beside you taller than either of you, vaguely insectoid, their limbs jointed in six distinct places. They spoke to each other in a dialect you didn’t understand then, in Galactic Basic, just loud enough to catch.

“Oh, how quaint. The human delegation brought representatives.”

“Must be difficult,” the other mused, not unkindly, “to keep such small creatures in sight.”

You felt Megatron shift beside you.

The taller delegate offered what might’ve been a polite nod, their expression unreadable. “Enjoy the festivities,” they added, and glided away, clicking softly as they moved.

Your drink arrived.

You stared into it for a moment before murmuring, “Do you think I count as quaint?”

Megatron’s gaze didn’t move from where the pair had gone. “If they knew anything about you, they’d never risk using the word.”

You glanced up at him. Something in his jaw had set differently. Not anger just... that old stiffness. Like a program running in the background. Like something uncomfortable in the code of his body.

So you touched his elbow lightly. “Come on,” you said, voice soft but purposeful. “Let’s make the rounds.”

You didn’t have to ask twice. He fell into step beside you again, his hand resting behind his back once more. The perfect dignitary.

The two of you slipped into the flow of the event, weaving between delegates, exchanging nods and hellos and the occasional comment. You played your part—answering questions about Earth’s current diplomatic ties to Cybertron, throwing in the occasional joke that flew over everyone’s head but made Megatron tilt his head in that amused little way that meant he got it.

Through the night you couldn't help but steal glances at him. He was handsome. Painfully so, in a way that didn’t seem fair.

Mustering your confident-ambassador-baddie aura you continued to take the lead. One hand clasping a chilly glass you held it ahead of you like the bow of a ship parting the sea of party-goers. The other hand beckoning Megatron occasionally to keep up.

“You carry yourself like royalty.”

You blink. Did you just mishear him?

“Come again?”

He stiffens immediately, eyes narrowing in defence. He regrets the words as soon as they’re spoken.

“That’s not—”

“You’re terrible at this,” you say, a grin playing on your lips.

“At what?”

“Flirting. That was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

“It was meant to be an observation.”

You bob your head playfully and roll your shoulders, hopefully the gesture comes off as foxy. “Sure. An observation with an aura of courtship.”

But eventually, the charm of the event began to turn. The lights felt too hot. The stares too long. The conversations started looping back, becoming redundant. Megatron’s answers became shorter. He leaned in less.

So you pulled back.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder and said, “Too much?”

He exvented quietly.

“Want to disappear?”

“Yes.”

Without ceremony, the two of you slipped through an archway, down a curved hallway lit in soft green, past a suspended sculpture that rotated slowly without sound. The noise of the ballroom faded behind you, replaced by a hush that felt like reprieve.

You found a quiet space tucked into an overlook meant for VIPs. Megatron stood beside you. But something in the posture had shifted. His shoulders were no longer squared. His hands, now clasped at the small of his back, opened and closed in restless intervals.

You leaned on the railing, watching the light show from below. The delegation was in full swing now, the dance floor slowly filling as a low, pulsing rhythm took over the speakers. It was orchestral in structure but deeply physical, percussive in a way that settled into your sternum. Behind you, Megatron remained quiet.

“I know that face,” you said, glancing sideways. “You look like you’re drafting a brutal speech about the flippancy of luxury.”

He didn’t look at you. “I’m calculating the cost of theater,” he said quietly. “How much it takes from a person to wear a mask. And how long before they forget it was a mask at all.”

You turned to face him fully, arms crossed, hip resting against the railing.

“You’re not being fair,” you said. “You did everything right.”

Megatron’s gaze drifted toward you now. The lighting softened the lines of his avatar, made his expression look more human than you’d ever seen it. Tired, but still alert.

“I wasn’t trying to be right,” he said. “Only tolerable.”

The music shifted. Below, couples moved together in deliberate, synchronized steps. One pair spun gently in a half-orbit around another. Someone dipped a partner low, and laughter followed.

“Would you prefer we just disappear entirely?” you asked.

“I prefer this,” he said at last.

You smiled faintly. “I don't mind either.”

He looked at you withdrawn again. “You’re just saying that.”

You took a pause, trying to steady the pulse in your veins urging you into doing impulsive things .“Can I say something?”

His head tilted. Permission.

You stepped a little closer. Enough to be able to lower your voice while still being heard. “You didn’t have to do any of this,” you said. “The diplomacy. The avatar. Playing along. And I know you’ll try to tell yourself you did it for appearances, or the mission. But that’s not true.”

His jaw tensed, just slightly.

“I know it’s not,” you continued. “Because I’ve seen how you are when you’re just doing what you’re told. And this... this wasn’t that.”

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, softly: “And what do you think this was?”

You swallowed. “Something kind. And... something that’s made me feel very, very happy.”

Megatron looked away, back toward the window.

“You say that like it surprises me,” he said. “But I didn’t come here to make a statement. I came because I thought I might make you smile.”

You blinked, stunned. He wanted this? He planned this? That was—God. That was almost romantic. Too romantic. You felt the elation bloom in your chest, dizzy from what he’d just admitted so casually.

You reached for his hand. And he let you.

The music continued below. The swirl of dancers and delegates became a blur behind the glass.

You squeezed his fingers gently.

“If you wanted to dance,” you said, “I wouldn’t stop you.”

He glanced at you again.

“Do you?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just know I’d like to stay near you.”

And this time, he stepped closer.

You cue for him to remove his coat by taking the sides of the collar in each hand and guiding it over his shoulders. He took the hint, shugging the garment off and slinging it over the railing. It revealed strong forearms beneath rolled sleeves, a neck just barely visible above the collar. Everything about him feels deliberately understated, and yet you can’t stop looking. You felt your stomach knot.

The music swelled again strings melting into a slow, pulsing rhythm, just enough tempo to guide motion without overwhelming it. Below, the crowd moved in waves.

You turned to face him, heart kicking faster.

“If you’d like to try,” you offered, lifting your hand, “I can lead.”

Megatron looked at you, visibly uncertain.

“I’ve never danced,” he said, as if it were a confession. “Not like this.”

“That’s alright,” you said gently. “I have. We’ll go slow.”

You reached for him, and he took your hand awkwardly, unsure how much pressure was acceptable. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, guiding his other hand to your waist.

“There,” you murmured. “That’s the usual setup.”

He looked down at the contact, then up at you again. “This feels... unconventional.”

“That's because you're thinking too hard,” you said with a small grin.

“I’m trying not to step on you,” he said flatly.

“That’s very sweet,” you teased. “But unnecessary. If you stepped on me I’d forgive you”

He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth curved only a little. It was something.

You watched his gaze crawl across your shoulders, the line of your neck, your jaw. His eyes landed on your mouth for a beat too long. You swallowed. Hard.

“You’re observing me,” you said.

“I always do.”

Something about the way he said it left you lost for an appropriate response.

One step back. He followed, stiffly. You tried again. He mirrored, a beat late. Every motion was too precise. He was solving a puzzle rather than moving through space.

“You’re overcorrecting,” you murmured.

“I am attempting to mirror your tempo.”

“Okay,” you said softly, “but dancing isn’t just pattern recognition. It’s listening. To me. To the music. To yourself.”

He blinked once. “That’s vague.”

“You’re doing great,” you lied, because you were charmed out of your mind.

He huffed sharply,. “Where should my hands go now?”

“Same place,” you said, biting back a laugh. “We’re not doing a spin yet.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

You smiled up at him. “Exactly. So don’t worry about it.”

He hesitated again. His hands hadn’t moved. His whole form had gone a bit too still. Withdrawn, even.

You looked up at him, tilting your head. “Hey. Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. His brow furrowed faintly. “This feels... unnecessary.”

You stepped back slightly. “Do you want to stop?”

His hand dropped from your waist. “I think I should.”

Your heart stung but you nodded, letting your arms fall, stepping gently away.

“Of course.”

You turned slightly, ready to give him the space he thought he needed.

But his voice stopped you.

“You said I didn’t have to go through all of this for you,” he said. “But I did. I wanted to.”

Your chest rose with your breath.

He looked at you like he just found the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he was asking. His gaze flicks to the side, and he adjusts his sleeve again—same nervous tell. Not ready to meet you where you are. Not yet. But he's still standing here, isn't he?

“You once said I didn’t understand what I was getting into,” you say quietly, “You were right. I didn’t. Not then. But I think I do now.”

He doesnt interrupt.

“That night… when you told me the truth. I should’ve hated you. I wanted to. But instead, I felt—” you pause, licking your lips, “—seen. It terrified me.”

He says nothing, but you can tell: he’s listening.

“You keep showing up like this,” you say gently, your voice low. “It’s getting hard to tell what this is supposed to be.”

His mouth opens like he’s about to deflect.

“Don’t,” you add quickly. “Just—don’t. I’m not trying to corner you. I just want to know.”

You take a breath, fingers brushing your wrist.

“Tell me what this is, Megatron,” you murmur. “Because I’m starting to hope it’s more than it should be.”

He looks at you—on the level—and for a moment, you see it: uncertainty. Caution. Want.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“Okay,” you say, stepping closer. “Then let me ask something simpler.”

You tilt your chin, steady despite the quaking in your nerves.

“Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

He doesn’t speak. Just nods once. Permission.

You step into him, feeling heat radiating off his holomatter projection. Up close, he smells like ozone and something else, clean metal and the faintest scent of tobacco,, translated into something your brain can interpret.

When you kiss him, it’s not elegant. Your noses brush wrong. Your balance falters a bit. But his hand—warm and unsure—touches your side, steadying you.

His mouth is soft. Stubbled. There’s a moment when you feel him start to respond, just slightly, before he pulls back half an inch.

His eyes are still open. Of course they were.

You breathe against him, stunned.

And then he steps back. Not far. Just enough to look at you fully.

“That,” he says, voice low, “was very brave.”

You smile, half breathless. “I know.”

The satisfaction in his expression was subtle—but it was there.

Your face was at full burn by now, hot blood felt as if it was pooling beneath every pore. It was actually getting a bit too much. You looked away, it was all getting a bit overwhelming. The excitement you were gripping onto tightly the entire night refused to unwind even after your very reckless action.

Little words were exchanged between you as a few comfortable silences passed by. Meanwhile the music had drawn to a close.

The walk back to the launch bay is slower than necessary. Neither of you speak, but the silence isn’t empty. At some point along the empty corridor, you catch him looking at you.

His eyes—human eyes—flick downward, lingering a second longer than is strictly polite. Your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, the slight shift of fabric where your dress settles against your chest.

It’s not leering. It’s curious and innocent in its focus. You bite back a smile, heart thrumming high in your ribs. Cybertronians don’t have this kind of giveaway. You realize that now—how easily you can see where his gaze travels, how easily he betrays his own attention just by forgetting to guard it. When his eyes flick back up and meet yours, there’s no guilt there. No shame.

The launch bay doors slide open. You pause just before the ramp, and Megatron pauses with you. His form flickers and the holomatter projection dissolves into static. He’s there now. Fully. The real deal.

"So," you say, "you were already here."

"Of course," he replies, words reverberating through the thin station air. "I was never far."

The shuttle ramp hisses under the weight of Megatron’s heavy footfalls.

You follow at your own pace, the stairs ahead of you rising almost as high as your shoulders. You hesitate at the base of the first step, eyeing the climb.

Before you can even think about attempting it, a massive shadow falls over you.

You glance up—just as Megatron stoops low, one hand extending.

“Allow me,” he says, voice pitched low, almost dry. But you catch the undercurrent: an old memory. You smile without thinking and step carefully into his waiting palm.

His servos flex slightly beneath you, enclosing you. You sit demurely, hands braced lightly on the broad curve of his fingers. He lifts you smoothly, almost absentmindedly, like you weigh nothing at all.

He doesn’t set you down immediately. Instead, he carries you easily across the shuttle floor, his other hand adjusting the controls with practiced efficiency.

He glances down.

“You’ll stay here,” he says, the faintest flicker of amusement touching his tone. “I prefer to keep you within sight.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile too obviously.

He settles you near the front console, just beside the primary display—a safe, flat surface with enough of an edge to keep you secure. Close enough that if he turns slightly, you’re still within arm’s reach.

He powers up the shuttle. You sit quietly, the rush of takeoff pressing you back just slightly as the shuttle disengages from the station.

The night is ending. The fantasy is folding itself away.

And still, he keeps you close.

For a while, neither of you speak. The stars drift by outside the viewport, streaks of light against the velvet dark. You let your eyes follow them, feeling the hush settle deep into your bones.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Well,” he says, voice thoughtful. “What did you think?”

You don’t need to ask what he means. The night. The effort. The strange, human-shaped fantasy he built for you out of smoke and hope.

You consider your answer carefully.

“It was wonderful,” you say honestly. “Strange. Surreal. Like stepping into someone else’s life for a while.”

You shift, folding your hands in your lap.

“But…” you add, looking up at him again, eyes lidded and a smirk playing at your lips—“I think I find you more beguiling like this.”

“Good,” he says quietly. “Because this is the form you’ll see most often.”

There’s no regret in his voice. No apology.

And you find, to your own surprise, that you don’t want one. You lean back slightly, settling in as the shuttle speeds toward home.

___

WOAH big update FINALS ARE OVER YAY. Alexa play Flesh for Fantasy by Billy Idol

#mtmte x reader #megatron x reader #idw transformers #megatron #mtmte #self insert #til all are loved #this charming man

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