#and all of this just..... came out of no where too-

[echstacy00]

can’t let you go: clingy!jungwon x reader

jungwon had been gone for three months. three months of sleepless nights, late-night video calls where he looked too tired to keep his eyes open, and constant reassurances that he’d be home soon. you’d gotten used to the cold side of the bed, the quiet hum of his absence lingering in the air like a ghost.

but even with the distance, he never let you forget how much he missed you.

it started with goodnight calls that lasted until one of you fell asleep. then it turned into constant texts throughout the day — “just landed at the venue, wish you were here.” “had ramen after the show, wasn’t the same without you.” “can’t sleep. call me?”

and when the calls weren’t enough, jungwon started leaving you voice messages — his tired, breathless voice cracking through the phone at 3 a.m.:

“miss you so much, baby. i don’t think i can do this without you.” you could practically hear the pout on his face poor baby :(((

you’d wake up to dozens of missed calls and messages, each one more desperate than the last.

“princess, please call me when you wake up.”

“baby, i need to hear your voice.”

“i just… i miss you.”

the day before he came home, his last message was quiet — barely a whisper over the phone:

“i don’t care how tired i am — the second i see you, i’m not letting go.”

and now he’s back. and he’s not letting go.

the second you open the door, he’s on you. his arms wrap around your waist so tightly you stumble back into the wall. his face presses into the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning against your skin as he exhales shakily.

“missed you so much,” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion. his hands roam up and down your back like he’s memorizing the feel of you all over again.

you try to pull away to look at him, but his grip tightens.

“no,” he whispers. “just… let me hold you for a second.”

a second turns into an hour. he follows you from room to room like a lost puppy, his hand always finding yours, his arms slipping around your waist when you try to cook, brush your teeth, or even change clothes. if you sit down, he’s curling into your lap. if you stand up, he’s dragging you back onto the couch, burying his face in your neck with a low hum of contentment.

“jungwon, baby, i need to shower—”

“then i’ll come with you.”

at night, he doesn’t just sleep beside you — he practically fuses himself to you. his arm hooks around your waist, his leg thrown over yours, his head resting against your chest. and if you so much as shift away? he’s waking up instantly, sleepily mumbling, “where are you going?” before dragging you right back.

and one night — hours past midnight, when the soft glow of the moon filters through the curtains — you try to slip out of bed for a glass of water. you barely make it to the edge of the mattress before a soft, sleepy whine breaks through the quiet.

“nooo… don’t go,” jungwon mumbles, his hand blindly searching for you under the sheets. his brows furrow, and his voice is thick with sleep. “come back…”

“i’m just getting water, won.”

his eyes barely open, his grip on your wrist tightening. “don’t care… need you more than you need water…” his lower lip juts out in the faintest pout.

“i’ll be right back—”

“no.” his hand slips to your waist, pulling you down until you’re lying flat on the mattress. his face presses into your neck as he breathes out a contented sigh. “stay.”

“but—”

“please, baby.” his voice is barely a whisper, but it’s laced with that quiet desperation that makes your heart clench. “can’t sleep without you.”

you sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he melts against you. his breathing slows, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest on your waist.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmur.

his lips curl against your skin. “i know.”

and then he’s moving — shifting his weight until he’s propped up on his elbows, eyes heavy with sleep but still dark with something deeper. his lips press against your cheek, soft and lingering. then your jaw. then your neck.

“god, i missed you,” he breathes between kisses, his hands trailing up and down your sides. “missed you so much it hurt.”

you hum softly, your hand sliding into his hair. “i missed you too.”

he tilts his head, his mouth trailing from your collarbone to the corner of your lips. his nose brushes against yours as his breath hitches. “say it again.”

“missed you, jungwon.”

that’s all it takes. his lips are on yours, warm and desperate, his hand slipping under your shirt to press against the bare skin of your waist. his kiss is slow but intentional, like he’s trying to make up for every second you were apart. he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “i’m never leaving you again.”

he kisses you again — deeper this time — and you feel his smile against your mouth. his hands frame your face as he pulls away just enough to whisper, “mine.”

your eyes flutter open, and he’s already watching you. his hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with the gentlest touch.

“go back to sleep, princess,” he whispers. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

you fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you, his lips brushing against your temple, his steady breath warming your skin. and just as you drift off, you hear him mumble one last thing against your hair:

“love you.”

please do not motify my works.

© echstacy 2025 - all rights reserved.

[whosmariaaa]

— part 1, part 2, part 3 !

college! sukuna took his chance as soon as he saw one. there was an upcoming project in english class, the one where you coincidentally were in too. and the best of it all, it was a partnered project.

“are you seriously this down bad, sukuna?” gojo asked, raising one of his eyebrows. sukuna glared at his friend in response. “shut the fuck up, gojo. i’m just saying. you can go with fushiguro, and i’ll find a new partner,” he replied.

“you’re pathetic,” toji chimed in with a smirk. all three of them were very aware of sukuna’s plan. honestly, he wasn’t even all secretive about it either.

still, sukuna didn’t take any insults and got on his feet. “say that again, fushiguro. i dare you,” he warned threateningly. toji huffed, and jokingly shot his hands up in defence.

“you two are fucking losers. i should go find other friends,” sukuna snarled as he got up and left. gojo just chuckled and waved him off, and toji seemed unbothered by his attitude.

so, plan in action. sukuna went to one of the professors, and requested if he could be working with you for the project. how can the professor say no to this 6 foot something, tattooed, menacing man cornering him? safe to say, sukuna left the classroom in satisfaction.

the next day, when you found out you were partnered with him for the project, you were on the point of actually throwing that chair to his head. but, you stayed calm, cool and collected (you were seething).

“what’s got you in such a foul mood, hm?” sukuna queried, his stupid smirk evident.

“what the hell do you think?” you snapped.

“calm your tits, woman. it’s just a little project,” he teased. you grabbed your book, and threw it at him. he caught it with ease.

you had come to the agreement to stay in the library after school, even though he tried convincing you to come to his or your dorm. you were not moved in the slightest. so, sukuna reluctantly came to the library.

“fuck are we even supposed to do?” he asked after a moment of silence. you turned your head to him, “are you actually serious? i just spend the last hour explaining this shit to you!” you retorted in annoyance. he just shrugged and watched you in amusement.

“you’re so insufferable, sukuna! how fucking stupid are you? why am i even paired up with you? you literally can’t do dogshit, and you’re just sitting there, doing nothing, while i have to do this entire dumb project!” you rambled in anger. he leaned his head in his palm, looking at you. man, if he wasn’t in love before, he surely was now.

“you’re kinda hot when you’re mad, sweetheart,” he smiled. you had to physically restrain yourself from beating his ass right here, right now.

“what the hell is your problem?” you jeered.

“don’t play dumb. you’re sitting here, all cute and concentrated, and you expect me to fucking listen to a word you say? i’d rather be doing something else with you,” he replied. you stared at him, speechless.

while sukuna wanted to kiss you senseless, you wanted to punch him senseless. this guy was seriously pissing you off.

“man, whatever. you can do this part of the project, and you better have it finished by tomorrow, or i’ll beat your ass, got it?” you huffed.

“mhm, i got it, baby,” sukuna hummed playfully. your fists clenched. you grabbed your stuff and your bag and got the hell out of here before you actually punched him senseless.

gojo and toji were right, sukuna thought. he was definitely very, very down bad for this girl.

──★˙🍓̟!! i’m not very sure what to think of this part, but i do hope it’s readable! thank you all so so so so much for all the likes, comments and reblogs! 💗

[gf2bellamy]

hiii, you can ignore this request if you don’t want todo it!! It’s sort of fluffy/hurt comfort. Spencer and reader have been pining over each other for ages until reader finally asks Spencer on a really cute date to a museum or something. Reader shows up a little early to make sure they are there on time, and waits for Spencer to arrive. Spencer is super super late because something happened on the underground/metro, and reader thinks Spencer has just stood her up so she flees to Penelope. I’m not sure how it would end, and sorry it’s so long!! :)

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader feeling upset bc she thinks spencer stood her up a/n: hii !! i love this idea and i hope you like this :) also this gif might be my all time favorite spencer gif

You were early. Maybe a little too early.

But sitting at home, pacing back and forth, obsessively checking the time—it was only making things worse. You’d spent the better part of an hour staring into the mirror, pulling and adjusting your clothes, second-guessing every little detail. At some point, you just had to force yourself out the door before you talked yourself out of it completely.

And now, here you were. Standing outside the museum, shifting from foot to foot, your breath fogging slightly in the crisp afternoon air.

It was a history museum. The moment you’d heard about the new exhibit, your thoughts had gone straight to Spencer.

It had taken you a month to work up the courage to ask him to come with you. A full month of rehearsing in your head, psyching yourself up, only to completely fall apart when the moment actually came.

You had been a stuttering mess, stumbling over your words, barely able to get the invitation out. But Spencer—Spencer had been just as awkward. There had been a long, heart-stopping pause where your pulse pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Then he nodded. Enthusiastically.

His curls bounced with the movement, and for a second, you thought he might actually be more excited than you were. The two of you had grinned at each other, wide and dorky and entirely too pleased with yourselves.

The memory made you smile as you stood there, phone in hand. You glanced at the screen. 1:55 PM. Five more minutes.

Deep breaths, you reminded yourself.

Your fingers tapped lightly against your thigh as nervous energy buzzed through you. You weren’t sure if it was the anticipation of the date itself or just the fact that it was Spencer.

Maybe both.

Time passed. More than five minutes. More than ten. Too much time.

You had started out standing near the entrance, glancing around every few seconds, expecting to see a familiar figure rushing toward you with an apologetic look on his face. But as the minutes ticked by, your stomach slowly twisted into knots.

Now, you were sitting on a nearby bench, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check. You stared down at your phone, heart sinking as the screen lit up. It was much, much later than 2 PM.

Spencer wasn’t coming.

And you knew him well enough to know that Spencer was the most punctual person on the planet. If he hadn’t shown up by now, there was only one explanation.

Spencer Reid stood you up.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled up your contacts, pressing the call button.

Penelope answered on the second ring.

“Hey, sugarplum! What’s up? Are you geeking out over fossils and artifacts yet?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Hi, Pen… are you busy?”

Immediately, her tone shifted. The warmth in her voice was still there, but now it was layered with concern. “No, not at all. What’s wrong? You okay? I thought you and Boy Genius were off on your little nerd date.”

You let out a small, shaky breath, staring down at your shoes as you nudged a small rock. “No… uhm… no.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, then a softer, more careful voice. “Do you wanna come over?”

You nodded before realizing she couldn’t see you. “Yeah. Yeah, can I?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I made cupcakes this morning. I’ll have some waiting for you.”

You murmured a quiet “thanks” before hanging up, already pushing yourself off the bench. Penelope’s apartment wasn’t too far from the museum—thank God. You just needed to get away from here.

The walk to her place was a blur, and before you knew it, you were curled up on her couch, a plate of cupcakes in front of you. You picked at the frosting absentmindedly before finally whispering the words that had been weighing on your chest.

“He stood me up.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

You took another bite of the cupcake, trying to drown your sorrows in the taste of chocolate.

Penelope was still staring at you, her brows furrowed in confusion. “But… he was so excited.”

Your chewing slowed. You glanced up at her. “Hmm?”

She shifted closer, her expression troubled. “Spencer. He had been talking about this all week.”

That caught your attention. You sat up a little straighter, swallowing the bite of cupcake.

Penelope nodded, as if replaying the memories in her head. “He actually bought a new tie for it,” she added, her voice full of certainty. “A completely new tie. I helped him pick it out.”

You blinked, your breath hitching. “What?”

“He wanted it to match you.” She gave you a knowing look. “I mean, he didn’t say that, but I know these things. The man was so particular about the color, the pattern, everything. He kept fidgeting the whole time we were shopping. It was adorable, really.”

Your mind reeled.

Spencer had been planning for this. He had been excited.

So why hadn’t he shown up?

You were suddenly wide-eyed, staring at her as she continued rattling off all the things he had done in preparation for the date—how he had debated over restaurant options in case you wanted to get food after, how he had even worried about what books he might mention so he wouldn’t ramble too much.

He had wanted this.

“Oh.”

It was all you could manage to say. Your brain was still trying to process everything Penelope had just told you.

He had been excited. He had planned for this. He had even bought a new tie.

You couldn’t help the warmth that crept up your neck, a soft blush blooming across your cheeks. “So… he wanted to go out with me?” you asked, your voice laced with disbelief.

Penelope tilted her head at you, giving you a look that practically screamed, Seriously? You still have to ask?

Silence settled between you.

Then, finally, you spoke again—quieter this time, your confusion only growing. “So… why didn’t he come?”

Penelope hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against her chin. “Maybe he got the day wrong?”

You gave her a flat look. “Garcia, it’s literally our only day off from work. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mix it up.”

She groaned, slumping back into the couch. “Right. Good point.”

The two of you sat there, completely stumped.

Penelope let out a dramatic sigh. “I also have some cookies if that helps?”

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “That helps.”

She shot up from the couch. “Good, because emotional support baked goods are my specialty.”

You managed a small smile, but even as she disappeared into the kitchen, your thoughts remained elsewhere.

But then you were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door.

Before you could react, Penelope’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Can you get that? I’m trying to heat up the cookies.”

“Sure,” you called back, pushing yourself up from the couch and making your way to the door.

The last thing you expected when you opened it was him.

Spencer.

Your mouth fell open slightly.

He stood there, slightly breathless, his shoulders slumped like he’d just run a marathon. His curls were messier than usual, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead. But what caught your attention most was his outfit—something you’d never seen him wear before. A soft button-up, a tie you knew had to be the new one Penelope mentioned, and a blazer that was slightly wrinkled, as if he had been gripping the fabric with nervous hands.

Neither of you said a word. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as you just stood there, locked in place, staring at each other.

Then, from behind you, Penelope’s voice broke the moment. “The cookies are ready!”

You heard her footsteps approaching before she finally reached the door, holding a plate of freshly warmed cookies in her hands. “Who’s at the—”

Her sentence cut off the moment she saw him.

Spencer.

She froze.

Now she was staring too.

More silence.

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the edge of the door. “Spencer,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance he was in. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something—needed to say something—but the words just wouldn’t come.

“How dare you stand her up like this?”

Garcia’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. She held the plate of cookies in one hand while the other jabbed a perfectly manicured finger in Spencer’s face.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his cheeks darkening with guilt. “I didn’t mean to, I swear,” he stammered, shifting nervously. His gaze flickered from Garcia to you, his expression almost pleading.

“I took the metro,” he rushed out, “and then it broke down. Completely. They couldn’t get it fixed for an hour and 10 minutes, and my phone didn’t have service underground, and I—” He stopped abruptly, his ramble faltering as he let out a breath.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’m so sorry.”

Garcia pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes as if debating whether to keep scolding him or let him off the hook. After a moment, she exhaled dramatically and slowly backed away toward the apartment.

“Alright, alright. I see what’s happening here,” she muttered under her breath, before giving you a not-so-subtle wink and slipping inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Now, it was just you and Spencer.

You weren’t sure what to say.

You had been so sure he had stood you up. The hurt, the disappointment—it had all settled deep in your chest. But now, standing here in front of him, hearing the way his voice shook with sincerity, seeing the genuine guilt in his hazel eyes, you felt your frustration unravel, piece by piece.

“Oh.”

It was all you managed to say—again.

Spencer winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know that’s not really an excuse. I should have—I don’t know, found another way to get to you, or—” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I just… I’m really sorry.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “So you didn’t ghost me on purpose?”

His eyes widened a bit, and he rushed to correct himself. “No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His voice dropped slightly, filled with sincerity. “I was actually looking forward to today. I did my research on the museum, and I heard there’s a painting on the second floor that—”

Spencer abruptly stopped himself, his face turning a dark shade of red. He tugged at the strap of his satchel nervously, clearly embarrassed by his over-explanation.

You couldn’t help it—you smiled even wider.

“How did you know I’d be here?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Spencer seemed momentarily caught off guard by the question. “Oh.” He blinked, looking slightly flustered. “Well, you’re very good friends with Garcia,” he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

From inside the apartment, you could hear Garcia mumbling with an exaggerated tone, “Good? We are best friends, Dr. Reid.”

You grinned, knowing she was eavesdropping. Spencer’s cheeks reddened further, and he seemed to realize that his conversation was no longer entirely private.

Spencer continued, recovering quickly. “Every time you’ve had a bad day at work, you tend to go to Garcia.” He gave a small shrug, like it was an obvious conclusion. “Like that one time when Hotch made you rewrite your report—remember that? You went to Garcia then.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Or when Strauss got mad at you,” Spencer continued, his voice now soft with the memory. “You also went to Garcia.” He fiddled with his satchel again, clearly fidgeting with nerves.

You let out a small chuckle. “I see how it is. I’m predictable.”

Spencer gave a sheepish smile, his hands finally falling to his sides. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I just—well, you seem to always go to her for advice when you're upset.”

You could hear Garcia mutter a small “As she should,” behind you.

Your heart warmed at his words, and you pushed yourself off the doorframe. “I guess you’re right. I do tend to run to Garcia when things go sideways.”

He nodded, looking slightly relieved that the tension seemed to break between you. “So, I just assumed you’d be here… and when I got here, I wanted to explain… before you thought I had just… forgotten.”

You stepped forward, offering him a smile. “Well, i'm glad i can stop worrying that you've stood me up.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed. “I really am sorry,” he repeated, his eyes soft and earnest.

You looked him in the eye, the teasing edge of your voice gone, replaced by something warmer. “It’s okay, Spencer.”

A small, relieved smile spread across his face as he let out a quiet sigh, trying to smooth down his disheveled curls. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, attempting to look a bit more put-together in front of you.

Then, as if on cue, Penelope’s voice cut through the silence, loud and clear from the other room. “Dr. Reid, ask her if she wants to go to the museum now!”

You could almost hear her taking a bite of something, likely one of the cookies she’d been baking earlier.

Both you and Spencer immediately blushed, the heat rising to your faces at her suggestion.

“R-right—yeah, uhm…” Spencer stammered, his voice faltering for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. “Would… would you like to go to the museum?” His voice was shy, and the way he stumbled over the words made your heart flutter a little.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. “Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically, your excitement starting to bubble up. “I’d love to.”

You turned to Garcia, who was still sitting on the couch, her eyes wide with a smile so big it practically took up her whole face. “I’ll, uh, see you at work, Pen,” you called over your shoulder, still feeling a bit giddy.

Garcia shot you two thumbs up, still grinning like she was the proudest friend in the world. “Have fun, lovebirds!” she yelled after you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm as you turned back to Spencer, whose face was still a little flushed. “Shall we?” you asked, motioning toward the door.

Spencer nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah… let’s go.”

[runawaybridee]

unprofessional. - k. nanami

continuation of this, smut, nanami is a pervert lol, lowk this was written with chubby reader in mind but it's not mentioned(i think), p in v, mentions of male masturbation, he has thoughts of noncon but he doesn't do anything without full consent, coworkers fucking lol, sorry i dont like writing male receiving oral so none of that, not proofread i wrote this during class, lowk this was hard to write i didnt know how to start it, lol im sorry this has a lot of humor in it, he's a respectful pervert!! oh also reader calls him "kenny"

it had started off innocently enough. nanami kept his desires to himself, quickly shutting down any perverted thoughts of you.

seeing you in your pencil skirts with your top unbuttoned one button too many, it got difficult to control himself. he's a respectable man, he'd kept his distance, and never dared to hint at his desire toward you.

he truly wanted to stay away, to keep himself from acting on anything, especially since you've never shown any interest in him.

but, he found a way. like he always does.

"aw, man!" your disappointment is palpable when you walk into the hotel room that nanami had booked, you were already upset that the hotel just so happened to only have one room left, but one bed? that's just bad luck.

"one bed, hm? i'll just take the floor, make it easy." he says, already undoing his tie.

you look up at him, "no, no. it's okay, we can share the bed. just put a pillow between us." he nods slowly, "yes, we're.. adults."

laying in bed, you inches away from him, nanami is hard. he literally has to stop himself from rolling over and fucking you in your sleep. or burying his face between your legs and inhaling that scent he dreams of. god, he needs a cold shower.

just as he's sitting up, he hears you stir, a soft sound almost like a moan leaving your lips. and, yeah, he's pretty sure he just came in his pants. he's seriously going to pull your pajama pants down and shove his cock so deep into your cunt--

wait, no, that's unprofessional. that's gross! he's better than that, he can just jerk off in the shower like a gentleman.

but, those quiet little mumbly moans, they're seriously getting to him. he feels like he is frozen in place. maybe he is, maybe this is some cruel bad dream where you'll wake up and crawl on top of him while your voice gets all distorted and you turn into some kind of dragon lady.

that's idiotic, nanami feels like he's literally high on the sight of you.

after a very long shower, he's all out of orgasms and crawling back into the bed. but, of course, you're awake.

was he too loud? did you hear him moaning your name and now you think he's some kind of pervert?

"hey," you mutter. "hey." nanami replies softly. you look over at him, "had a bad dream." you say.

he hums, "i just wanted to wash up, felt pretty hot in here." you nod slowly.

"so.." you clear your throat. "you wanna fuck me?"

oh my god.

kento nanami literally dies, right here. like, he feels his heart stop.

"what?" he manages to choke out. "i heard you in the shower, nanami. woke me up 'cause i thought you were dying or something."

he is mortified. you heard him fucking his fist, pretending it was you? he's never going to live this down, you'll probably tell gojo and gojo will tell shoko and shoko will tell utahime and--

"is that a yes or no?"

that is how you've ended up here. underneath kento nanami while the virgin gropes your tits like he's never seen a naked woman before.

your cunt is aching, but nanami just wants to kiss and lick your boobs right now. he's like a baby breastfeeding from it's mother, as if he needs to have your tit in his mouth.

finally, finally he pulls off your chest, kissing down your body. if you didn't know any better, you'd think he's slept with countless women. he hasn't, which is a surprise.

nanami's fingers hook on the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. he spreads your legs, staring at your pretty cunt. he's never seen a more beautiful sight. except for maybe your eyes and your skin and your smile and your--

you get the point. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"kenny," you murmur. "need you." he can't help the grin that forms on his lips, you need him. just as bad as he needs you. see? he's not a pervert! you've just been teasing him. he feels your hips wiggle in his hands.

"gimme a second," he says, his breath hitting your wet folds. "wanna admire my girl." you moan in frustration, just wanting him to touch you.

finally, he licks a stripe through your folds. savoring every little drop of slick that lands on his tongue, he dives in.

he's not good at it, he's messy and gets spit all over you. you're horny and fed up, so naturally you grab his hair and force him to move the way you want.

"stop going so fast," you grumble. his cheeks light up a pretty red color, clearly embarrassed. but when his nose bumps your clit, you moan and he furrows his brows in concentration.

you reach down to pull his foggy glasses off of his face, placing them on the nightstand.

he starts to get the hang of it, you let out moans and whimpers. he's not an expert, but he's getting you there.

his fingers rub just over your hole, as if hesitating. "fuck, push them in." you breathe out, and he does. he slips his middle finger in your cunt, feeling your walls squeeze around him. it's probably been awhile for you, he thinks.

a second one just slips in, your wetness makes it easy. he spreads his fingers, feeling how much you can stretch. there's a sharp pain in his scalp from you tugging, and he groans into your pussy.

after a few more minutes, he pulls off of your cunt, making you whine. you would kill him if you weren't so needy.

his fingers wrap around your throat and he leans up to kiss you again. you obviously kiss back, tasting yourself on his glistening lips. he moans into your mouth, "fuck, i need to be inside of you. now."

you nod eagerly, lifting your hips, "c'mon, fuck me. let me take your virginity, kenny." he almost cums in his pants at the whiney sound in your voice.

"can still fuck you good, doesn't matter if 'm a virgin."

and, spoiler alert, he's not wrong.

he tugs his pants and boxers down simultaneously, his cock springing free. he's not gigantic, but damn, bigger than average for sure.

he strokes himself, making sure he's fully hard. he wants to make sure this is perfect, not even for himself, for you.

so when he slips inside of you for the first time, he really thinks he's in love. "fuck, you feel.. so good." he whispers, dropping his forehead to press against yours. he brings one hand behind your head, the other still firmly on your hip.

he slowly moves in and out, his mind completely slips the fact that he isn't wearing a condom. but neither of you could care about that right now.

"kenny, f-faster.." you all but beg, to which he can do nothing but oblige.

his hips thrust with more force and speed, the passion and intimacy is still there, but now he's really fucking you. "that's good?" he breathes, "mhm, s'good.."

your eyes roll back when his thumb lands on your clit, rubbing circles there. you lean up to press your lips against his, and he returns the kiss, practically eating you. his tongue pushes into your mouth, moving against yours in perfect symphony.

he can feel your insides squeezing his cock harder, he knows you're about to cum. he doubles his efforts, rubbing your clit faster and putting just enough pressure.

when he feels you finally finish, yeah, that's his end. he somehow gains the strength to pull out and quickly stroke himself, finishing in gooey strings all over your stomach.

you're both panting by the time you're done, the sheets are soaked with your sweat and he's carrying you into the shower.

after your shower (there may have been another round during it), you're both laying in the bed, his hand is running up and down your back slowly while you play with his hair.

"you my boyfriend now?" you ask quietly, "mmph," nanami thinks for a moment, then nods. "yeah, guess i am, pretty."

your smile makes his heart melt, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "sleep now, darling. we've got some curses to exercise in the morning."

as you doze off, he just stares at you. wondering when his perverted fantasies slowly became ones of you walking down an aisle all dressed in white.

a/n: haha hey guys pls dont hurt me.. this took way too long to finish, literally the night i was going to finish this i got sick (never eating lobster rolls again). i hope you enjoy this one im sososososo sorry that it took me ages to post.. ALSO THANK YOU FOR ALMOST 300 FOLLOWERS??? WTF ITS CRAZY!!!

taglist: @momoewn @vorfreudevortex @lem-hhn

[yukioos]

katsuki being jealous of you and ochaco

katsuki grumbled once he saw ochaco sling an arm around your shoulder and grin. why the hell was she so close to you? you told him it was normal for girls to act flirty with each other, but this was too much, for him, at least. whenever you had free time, you would spend all of it with ochaco or the girls, not realizing how disturbed your boyfriend was by this.

it came to a point where you could never be with him, and only saw him in class and rarely training. did you like her? there was no way you were cheating, he knew you were loyal, but knew if you lost feelings for katsuki, you would never act on your other feelings and be disloyal.

he began to glare at ochaco whenever she walked or passed by, even bumping shoulders into her and telling her to watch it. eventually, when you almost never saw him, and never laid an eye on him, he texted you after class with a simple, ‘we need to talk. come to my room.’

your heart dropped once you received the message, but you listened to him, nonetheless. whenever you opened the door to his room and closed it behind you, he wasn’t looking at you. you sweat, twiddling with your fingers. he spoke before you had the chance to.

“be honest. do you not like me anymore?” katsuki ashamedly looked at the ground, voice soft and worried.

your eyes widened and your body felt less tense. you asked, “i love you, kats, why would you even ask that?”

he grumbled, “you’re always hanging out with round cheeks. i hardly even see you anymore. you’re my girlfriend, not hers.”

he was so jealous, it was apparent on his face. you tried to hold yourself back from laughing.

you grinned and came up with an idea, “how ‘bout we sit together at lunch? just the two of us? we should go on some more dates too, there’s this one cafe i want to go to—“

you continued ranting for a while, spitting out ideas so the two of you could have more quality time together. you knew katsuki would sometimes get anxious about the concept of time in general, how he felt like he had so much time to live his life but so little at the same time. he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but he felt that he needed to get ahead. he needed to be with you now.

but to shut you up, he grabbed you by the hem of your shirt and wrapped his arm around your waist. he planted a big, fat kiss on your lips, and in response, you peppered kisses all over his face, ignoring his ‘protests’ to stop.

the two of you began to talk about how to change your schedules to set aside more time for each other. this came along with switching some electives you were interested in to experience them together.

throughout the whole conversation, katsuki was smiling. he was so glad that you were willing to alter so much for him.

this one was super random but i hope u guys enjoyed it! feel free to send in requests for katsuki

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 6/?

Thank you for the cake and the art and your crazy tags♡♡ you feed me so well so here's some more words!!

Lets see how many of you guest right, lol, they're both stupid, I love them.

__________________________________

A group walking down the corridor on the other side of the glass before six a.m was unusual. And given the volume and rapid chatter, something had either excited them or had them nervous. But when one stopped to peer through the window, looking for Prowl – they would not see him, he refused to be gawked at – there was a possibly it had something to do with him.  

Prowl suspected that if that was the case, his mobility played a key part. The humans had been more skittish since he had first left the hammock yesterday. Their fear was not misplaced, with the returned ease of swimming, his threat value had more than doubled.  

While he would not act unless pressed – as it would be wasted effort with the current situation – Prowl was not completely against whatever illusion that the humans had of him. Let them fear him. It would keep most away and leaving fewer for him to deal with; those brave or stupid enough to still come near him. 

The elated shout of Jazz that came from beyond the wall drew in his attention. Prowl sighed softly, recalling the current state of the language barrier. What he wouldn't give for a stylus and a data-pad. Even a simple drawing one would suffice. 

He didn't get to linger in dismay as he heard Jazz swim by, but not stay. The view port on the gate was still shut from yesterday so maybe Jazz had just come to check if they would open it? But then he came by again a few seconds later, and then again.  

Swimming laps. But was it excitement or anxiety?  

Prowl silently approached the gate and rested his forehead against it, listening. The body of water on the other side was much bigger, that much he already knew, but most of the walls and floors of this place were like stone, leaving empty spaces all over his vision. Places sound bounced off of, but didn't pass through.  

Metal wasn't necessarily any better, but it tended to reverberate; depending on its composition, and if one was skilled enough, you could see what was beyond or within the metal.  

But the gate was metal, and Prowl was that skilled. Tuning his sonar with careful precision, he eventually found the frequency that gave him the best image.  

Inside, it was primarily hollow, with large connecting rods and cylinders leading to alien machinery that was too complex to make out with outside noise causing glitch-like distortions across what he could see. But the guts of the wall weren't his goal currently. 

Outside was where he drew in his focus. Towards the centre he could very faintly see Jazz as he circled. His sonar images may be in terrible quality, but Prowl had become quite familiar with the other orca's particular blob. It was like watching something move from darkness to light or adjusting the contrast of an image. Jazz was bright and his silhouette shape clearly a mer when he was close, while dim and barely a lopsided oval when he was far.  

He was tempted to calculate the distance and overall, the space Jazz was swimming, but – to the right he had picked up on a platform. One that more and more humans seemed to be gathering on. At first, Prowl was worried that the other mer might be in danger, but after a few more laps Jazz approached and waited at the edge. 

For a few minutes, nothing changed. Until Jazz moved to somewhere in the middle, almost straight out from the gate, and the humans began to spread out. Something was up and Prowl kept searching and listening for anything that might give him insight.  

Till the screeching hiss of the machine attached to the gate suddenly came to life, causing Prowl to recoil. Losing his sonar temporarily as he worked through the noise. It was like a camera flash that blinded you for a second, only this one was a flash against your mind and a bang in your ears at the same time. But Prowl was used to ambushes and this certainly wasn't the worst sonar attack he's experienced, so this wouldn't hinder him, it was just annoying. 

Pressing himself against the floor and the wall out of view of the door, he waited. After the passageway had slid completely open, Prowl remained only for an extra moment, just long enough to tell that nothing was coming. Then he cautiously moved to investigate. 

With the recovery of his sonar and the obstacle removed, Prowl sent a few quick clicks to pinpoint all the humans. There were seven he could find, though there could be more outside his currently limited range. A poorly laid out ambush regardless, if that was the plan, and chances were very low – seeing as the humans were providing him with medical treatment, they clearly wanted him alive – but it wasn't zero. Prowl really didn't want to fight at this stage of his imprisonment, firstly; his wounds still posed a risk to his overall survival, secondly; he needed to gather more information before he could put together a plan of escape.  

When Jazz waved at him, Prowl resigned to the fact that he – or perhaps they – were being closely monitored and there was nothing that could be done about it. So, for now, he would resume gaining an ally, or at the very least a cooperative collaborator. The other captive orca remained at the top of his priority list for making any future plans have greater odds of success. Working out the communication issue aside, he needs this 'first meeting' to go properly and smoothly before anything else could proceed.  

And it looked as though the audience had Jazz tense and on the defensive. Nothing a little show of reassurance of Prowl as an ally couldn't remedy surely. 

So, Prowl approached with an appropriate speed for closing the distance between an acquaintance, with his arms set at a relaxed, yet polite place along his sides. When he stood before Jazz, he made sure to keep a respectable space, posed with and holding a practised expression of polite professionalism. Choosing to have his most vulnerable side forward in a grand gesture of trust, further expressing that he had no intentions of bringing him harm. 

He anticipated a moment of hesitance, allowing Jazz the time to observe him, to look for signs of deceit. But when his roaming eyes became fixed on his wounded flank, admiration showing in his expression, Prowl flicked his tail for Jazz's attention. Prowl wouldn't look too deep into it, but past experience made him keep note. 

Jazz showed that he was at least slightly embarrassed – good – but when he did not make a move to greet Prowl with the same gesture of goodwill. Continuing to face him head on had Prowl now searching for signs of what his intention were. But while he did, Prowl began to express slight irritation, in hopes the other would cease and desist.  

The other mer reacted by rising and Prowl tensed. Jazz must have had trust issues from past bad experiences if he was attempting to intimidate him with the present state of their body. Where he had been found gravely wounded, Jazz must had been found starving… Or there was the very slight chance that he had recently hit his last growth spurt and he was just a lanky cocksure young adult wanting to show-off. 

Jazz quickly paused, pointing and waving for Prowl to follow. Obviously wanting to move to the surface to speak. Fine.  

But then he smiled, and not in a friendly way, no, this one was clearly practised. Smooth, confident, and forward. Prowl had dealt with plenty of celebrities and politicians to know what a charming smile looks like, and very aware it was an illusion of friendliness to lure or entertain. Cocky youth had adjusted from 'very slight' to 'likely'. So, Prowl readied for a foolish game of posturing. 

{Sorry, Prowler.} Was the first thing out of his mouth and his smile diminished to a more acceptable nature.  

Good, Prowl thought at first, maybe Jazz had realized that he would not sway Prowl. However, Jazz still refused to back down, flaunting confidence with lax posture. Speaking in an almost gentle reassurance, {it's okay. Prowler, it's okay.} 

Then everything started coming together – prolonged staring, hints of interest, slight embarrassment, insistent forward facing, too friendly of smiles aimed at a stranger – and the almost certain likelihood of Jazz's youth. Prowl was both irritated and bewildered at his own conclusion; Jazz was flirting with him. 

Primus, he wanted to be wrong. But… nothing else made sense about Jazz's behaviour! 

Not wanting this nonsense to continue, Prowl kept his formal disposition of his side facing Jazz and backed off just enough to show refusal, but not a sign of submission. Prowl firmly said, {no.} 

{Wait! I —– } Jazz started to approach.  

{Stop,} he said as his scowl had grown into a harsh glare and he quickly turned his body to face him fully, but didn't back away. {trying okay.} 

Jazz did stop his advance. Though now apparently, they were locked in some sort of stare down. How else could he express his rejection without this braking out into a physical confrontation? 

Again, Jazz moves, this time slowly opening his arms to boldly offer a hug and still keeping a steady friendly smile. Like he's asking for a chance. But was only baffling Prowl further. Why are you so instant? 

" 'tzz." He said, the other mer's name was still difficult to pronounce, but he wanted to be clear. Speaking with a warning as he readied to strike. It wouldn't be the first time a pursuer needed a smack to take a hint. But Prowl really didn't want to fight. {Stop.}  

Jazz was back to rambling in the human's language, his tone was wavering between calm and frustration. But when he pulled away; after his words had done nothing to change Prowl's stance, Jazz squared up. 

Prowl did not hesitate and made a clean charge to Jazz's chest, forcing them both under.  

While Jazz recoiled and darted away to collect himself. Prowl rolled his shoulder in discomfort. The impact had still jostled his injuries, but it had been the best option. Biting would have been taking it too far, using even his right arm would have been agonizing, and spinning around to use his tail would have allowed Jazz time to react. No, this was good enough.  

Or so he thought when he returned to Jazz to see if he was willing to be respectful of the situation. While Prowl was willing to try and start anew with a mutual understanding, side-ways faced and still offering trust with showing his wounded side.  

Jazz looked upset, understandably so as that harsh of a rejection was never pleasant. But this language barrier was really getting in the way. He was speaking human words again, irritation clear in his voice. But then he took a deep breath and started slinking towards him. Still openly refusing Prowl's offer of peaceful intentions. 

And... now we've come down to a battle for dominance. Wonderful. Prowl had a slight bit of respect for the other's determination in not wanting to submit when clearly out matched, but this was hardly the time nor the place. Prowl fixed Jazz with a glare, promising punishment as he started to plan out his attacks that would not cause too much pain, but enough to humble the punk. 

{Please, Prowler, stop.} 

Gladly, but you first. {No, you stop, ['tzz.]}  

He did, {what,} but not without pointing back and forth between them, {why?} 

WHY!? 

Despite his mounting frustration of being unable to explain or even have Jazz possibly clear things up on his end as well. Prowl did his best to make it as physically clear as he could by returning to the calm request and offer to have no ill intentions between them, that they can be on equal ground. He even went as far as to break eye contact and look away, just in case that was feeding into his miscommunication with Jazz. 

{Prowler,} Jazz sighed, calling out to him softly, and daring to inch closer.  

Prowl tensed; he had tolerated that nickname due to his own inability to say Jazz's properly. But him using it– using it like that was–  

That was not– I'm not submitting to you, you punk!  

Bristling, Prowl twisted and lunged for the other mer. Only clipping him this time, but was swift with a sharp turn to follow through with his earlier threat. And Jazz tried and failed to escape him. Charge after charge, Prowl battered him with carefully made strikes. Making it clear that when he stopped and let Jazz get away, that he had allowed it to happen.  

When he met Jazz on the surface once more. Prowl remained facing him head on, silently asking if he wanted another round of showing just how out of his league he really was. Regardless if that kind of movement put strain on his healing body, that he could feel the sharp pull of new tissues fighting against the flex of muscle. He could probably get away with a few more attacks before something popped open. 

{Please, Prowler. Please, stop.} Jazz begged. 

But Prowl waited to see if Jazz was being honest about putting this to an end. After a minute of neither of them making a move. Prowl once again turned so his side face Jazz and this time Jazz mirrored him.   

Prowl then gave a loud breath of relief and laid down to float on his back. Finally! No more idiotic posturing.  

Jazz also followed him in releasing the tension and floating, though he looked humiliated. 

Good, you should be embarrassed. 

__________________________________

I hope you found this as funny as I did. XD And now that the boys can be in the same pool, it's time for bonding and shenanigans!! >:3c

Prowl: doing everything by the book and reading into every micro expression to aim for the best results.

Jazz: trying to restrain his overflowing excitement and desire to make a friend. (but also has a budding crush) be cool, be cool OuO;;

Prowl: sees Jazz's not-so-hidden excitement and desire. what – here – right now – but also why? … sigh, you're just a shameless flirt aren't you? :/

IS IT really a jp fic if they aren't– Check List ✔ Arguing at least once ✔ Fighting at least once ✔ Jazz being an absolute flirt (unintentional currently, but still counts!) ✔ Prowl greatly misunderstanding a situation with Jazz at least once

Also, I've seen the pleas of the lovely readers!! I will post this fic on ao3 in the next day or so. But since this is my gift to my platonic love ♡♡♡Keferon♡♡♡ updates will be delivered here first.

Until you want me to stop dropping the fic in your inbox♡ -GLC

Previous

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE oh my god they're fucking stupid ahahajjakfkfmgndb

I was wroNG ahaha I was completely wrong. Jazz wasn't saying "fuck you" in the last part it was "let's fuck" /j

To be fair. If I was held captive with the other random human and they greeted me by staring at my ass and then enthusiastically approaching despite me showing that I'm not okay with them flirting with me? Yeah no I completely understand Prowl haha.

Also. This isn't directly related to this part but. Sigh. I made some doodles of Blaster after reading the previous part and then.uh. completely forgot to show them. So I guess I'll throw them here now lol

[rafes-slut]

Rafe with a slapping kink?

Slapping kink

Warnings: Explicit smut, slapping kink, rough sex, choking, dominance, slight pain play, dirty talk, light degradation, praise, overstimulation, possessiveness, mild aftercare.

The room was thick with heat, bodies tangled in a mess of sheets as Rafe pinned you beneath him. His weight pressed down just enough to remind you who was in control, his hands gripping your thighs as he rolled his hips against yours, dragging out a desperate moan from deep within your chest.

“God, you sound so fuckin’ pretty when you whimper like that,” he rasped, his voice rough with arousal.

Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure surged through you. But before you could get too lost in it, Rafe’s hand cupped your jaw, forcing your gaze back to him. His blue eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing over your parted lips.

“You with me, baby?” he murmured, voice deceptively soft.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. His grip tightened, fingers pressing into your skin. “Words.”

“Yes,” you breathed, and the second the word left your lips, his hand snapped across your cheek.

A sharp gasp escaped you, more from surprise than pain. The sting was quick, fading almost as fast as it came, but it left a warmth in its wake—one that made your stomach twist in the best way. Your lips parted, a shaky exhale slipping out as your thighs squeezed around his waist.

Rafe smirked, fingers tracing over the spot where his palm had landed. “You like that, don’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it. The way your body reacted, the way the arousal pooled between your legs, told you exactly how much you did.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“I… I liked it,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” His smirk widened. “Then beg me for more.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, but the hunger in his eyes made your hesitation disappear. “Please.”

That was all he needed. His hand struck again, the sound echoing through the room. It wasn’t hard, just enough to make you feel it, to leave your skin tingling. A soft whimper left your lips, your body arching into his as the sting melted into pleasure.

Rafe groaned, his hips snapping forward as he filled you to the hilt, making you cry out. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he gritted out. “Taking me so well, baby.”

Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, each snap of his hips hitting deep. His grip on your jaw remained firm, his thumb slipping into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You moaned around it, eyes hazy with lust as you let him use you the way he wanted.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fuckin’ desperate for me. My filthy little girl.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, making you clench around him. He groaned, his movements turning rougher, faster. The coil in your stomach tightened, your body winding up, teetering right on the edge.

“Close?” he asked, his free hand slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit.

You nodded frantically, a whine slipping past your lips as he applied just enough pressure to push you over the edge. The orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body trembling beneath him as pleasure consumed you.

Rafe wasn’t far behind. His thrusts turned erratic, his grip on your face tightening one last time before he spilled inside you with a deep groan. He didn’t pull away immediately, his body pressed against yours as he caught his breath.

After a moment, his fingers brushed over your cheek, soothing the lingering sting from his earlier slaps. “You okay?”

You nodded, lips curving into a soft smile. “More than okay.”

Rafe smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips.

[starsforxavi]

further examination

·······•✦ description: It had been so long - too long - since you had the opportunity for some alone time with your boyfriend, so when he asked for help with an assignment, you became a little too excited. But all you had to do was be a good girl, and he would grant you all your wishes and more.

·······•✦ pairing: zayne x fem!reader ·······•✦ word count: 5.4k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with little plot ·······•✦ general tags: Fluff and Smut, Smut. Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Well kinda plot, AU!College/University, Zayne is a med student, fluffy zayne, Body Worship, Medical Kink, Riding, Aftercare, Marking, Kinda possessive Zayne, No Spoilers, no one has an EVOL, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Established Relationship

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

“Okay, so, I just have to sit here and pretend to be sick, right?” You were currently sat at the kitchen island, leaning on your elbows to get a better look at your boyfriend. His white coat fit snugly on his shoulders - if he works out any more, he will have to obtain a more significant size - and you fight everything in you that wants to comment on how hot he looks.

“You’re exactly right, darling. Just sit there and answer my questions like you’re coming into the hospital with an ailment.” Zayne nodded, staring down at his notes. He was utterly oblivious to your gaze, just as he always was. More often than not, you would find your eyes trailing his figure, admiring how handsome he looked.

Humming, you sat back in the chair, your hands falling to your lap. His eyes met yours, and you snapped into your assigned role. The thrill of the roleplay - even if it was just supposed to be innocently helping him practice for an upcoming exam - caused your thighs to rub together.

It had been a while since anything intimate happened between you, and the need you felt for the man in front of you only heightened after seeing him walk through the door to your apartment only half an hour ago. Instead of the enthusiastic response you hoped for, you were met with the smell of delicious food and the question to help him with his clinical for an upcoming exam.

While you did want to jump him right then and there, you relented, placing the food on the counter before digging in. Conversations flowed from exciting things in classes to vocabulary words you learned in your recent readings. That all led to where you sat now, Zayne walking around to your side of the kitchen island, his eyes still reading through whatever was on his clipboard.

Trying to play the part, you sniffled, looking at Zayne through hooded eyes. “Hello, Doctor.” It wasn’t easy getting the hoarse tone to come through but you managed, sinking in your seat. Your skin tingled as Zayne looked up at you, the slight twitch in his eyebrow causing a rush of heat to flow through your body.

“Hello, Miss…” He paused momentarily, looking you up and down before writing something down in his chart. “How are you feeling? What brought you to the hospital today?”

His normally soft voice toward you morphed into something a bit colder. This was the voice he usually used towards patients: gentle and caring but not overly warm. He was a professional; it was his job to help others, not to overstep any boundaries. The unusual shift in his tone sent a shock through you. It was different, but you liked it—you really liked it.

Zayne didn’t tell you exactly what ailment you should pretend to have; after all, he was just practicing general clinicals. It didn’t really matter exactly what it was, just that he followed every protocol on his assignment page and remembered what questions to ask.

So you made something up, the best thing you could think of after sitting there momentarily. Sniffling again, you coughed into your hand, gesturing to your throat. As you tried to speak, your voice came out soft and hoarse, the words cutting off slightly while you coughed once or twice.

“I came down with a nasty cough…” You shivered to make it more realistic, pulling your arms around your body. “And I’ve been really cold, even wearing a sweater.”

Zayne hummed along as you explained, setting his clipboard down and walking toward you. All thoughts of him abandoning his assignment flew out the window as he leaned closer, his hand outstretched. “May I feel your throat?”

After a curt nod, his cold fingers touched the sides of your neck. He brushed over your sensitive spot, causing you to wiggle in his hold. As part of his assignment, he acted like it was causing you pain, and he cleared his throat. Instead of pulling back wholly, his left hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers massaging the muscles to feel how tight they were.

“Any pain or discomfort?” His voice seemed far off as you tilted your head back, pleasure spiking through you as he worked at the knots in your neck. Fighting back a moan, all you could do was nod, and Zayne had to stop entirely so you could come back to reality. “Did that hurt?”

It wouldn’t have been very professional, nor would it have helped him if you flat-out said it felt fucking fantastic, so you nodded slowly, a fake wince causing your nose to scrunch up. “Yes, Doctor. It hurt more on the sides of my neck.”

The stethoscope that hung around his neck was pulled free, his hands positioning the earpieces before he looked up again. His jaw was clenched tight, and the effect you had on him made it very clear how he was hanging on a thread. It took everything in him not to abandon his assignment, but he persisted. After all, he prided himself on his amazing self-control.

Moving around behind you, his hand played with the edge of your shirt. “May I check your heartbeat?” This wasn’t in the assignment, not the teasing at your shirt or gently caressing your lower back.

“Yes, you can,” You gasped when the cold instrument pressed into your back. A chuckle fell from your lips as you looked over your shoulder. “But you may find my heartbeat is faster than normal, Doctor.”

It was minimal, the way he pressed the bell of the stethoscope against your back just a little harder. Or how his jaw tightened for a split second before returning to normal. He knew the effect he had on you just as much as you knew your impact on him. A mutual respect for how you had each other weak in the knees.

“Handsome men just have that effect on me, I guess.” Deciding to play it a little more daring, you pressed the limits. This was an assignment, yes. Yet the excitement and need grew in you as you played the patient, only causing heat to build between your thighs.

The feeling of the stethoscope on your back disappeared, and Zayne’s stoic face came into view, his eyebrows knitted together. “Calm down, darling. Just help me finish this assignment.” He picked up his clipboard again, his fingers noticeably clutching the pen a little too tight as he scribbled down notes. “You’re lucky they didn’t make me film it this time.”

His statement caused you to suck your bottom lip into your mouth. How hot. Though the topic of people watching you never came up, you could assume it would be a hard no from your boyfriend. He was gentle, but he rarely kissed you outside of your apartment or his office. Having others around meant having a hand on your waist or holding your hand, and that was it.

“I just need your help, Doctor.” Every time you used that word, Zayne’s left eye twitched slightly. To the average person, it wouldn’t be noticeable, but you - who had been in a relationship with him for two years now - could pick up on these things. “It really, really hurts.”

Another clench of his jaw, and you knew he was close to giving in. It had been a few weeks, the need in yourself almost certainly mirroring his own. Even though he was better at hiding it, there wasn’t much he could get past you. The lingering touches as he left for class in the morning or the strangled sigh that fell from his lips when he caught you for a few moments between exams. The kisses always seemed the best, the heightened awareness of the deadlines you both faced only causing excitement to spark between you.

“I can only help you if you play along, darling.” He looked up from his paper to lock eyes with you, the pleading look on your face making his cock jump in his black slacks. “Only a few more assessments, and I’ll take care of you. Just be a good girl for me.”

He knew just how to make you listen to him, and he fought a grin as your back straightened up. Another cough was forced out, and he shook himself mentally, pulling himself back into his role. Your skin prickled, and your nerves were on edge as he gently grabbed your wrist, his two fingers pressing into your pulse point.

“Let me just check your pulse,” He continued, keeping an eye on his watch as he silently counted the beats. It was deafening, the silence that pushed in on you. Your heart rate sped up as your eyes scanned his face, down his neck, all the way to his black slacks. Unfortunately, you couldn’t catch a glimpse, but if his tells were giving you anything, you could bet he was at least slightly turned on.

After a minute passed, he released your wrist, moving back to write some numbers on the page. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket, gesturing to your throat. “I’m just going to check your throat. Say ‘Ah’ for me, please.”

The light flashed as you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. It brought back memories of tasting Zayne’s seed as it spilled all over your lips, licking up the remnants that didn’t land in your mouth. Zayne seemed to think the same thing because he cleared his throat, looking around for most likely nothing. Your throat felt fine.

The silence was interrupted by the click of the flashlight turning off, his eyes meeting yours before he looked back at his clipboard for one final time. He spent a minute writing until he moved his attention to you. “All finished, Miss. I will prescribe some medicine, and you should feel better in a day or two.”

“Is there anything you could give me now to help me feel better?” Batting your eyelashes at him, you placed your hand on his chest. On instinct, he stepped closer, his hips fitting perfectly between your open thighs. His hands held your hips gently, fingers threatening to dip under your shirt.

“Hm.” He pretended to think, his eyes trailing over your face before his nose brushed yours. “I know a thing or two that could help alleviate the pain, but we need to have you lying down so I can treat you.”

With a tug, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a slight noise falling past your lips as he hoisted you up. His hands cradled your ass, giving it a few squeezes as he walked toward your shared bedroom. Warm breath spread across his skin, and he shivered, his cock now straining in his pants as he thought of all the time he had to make up for not being with you.

Zayne set you on the bed, ensuring a pillow was under your head. Playing along, you looked up at him, crossing your hands over your stomach as you awaited his next move. That next move consisted of tugging his white coat off and unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt. Heat radiated from him, and the need to just take everything off almost overwhelmed him, but he held it in. He wanted to take his time with you.

“I think that I need to assess more of your body.” His hand held your ankle gingerly, pressing a kiss to your shin before trailing his eyes up your body. “Let me know if anything hurts.”

Zayne let his fingers massage your ankle, feeling the muscles loosen. Pleasure rocketed through your body, and you moaned, eyes closing automatically. The feeling stopped as you shut your eyes, Zayne’s fingers halting their movements.

When you finally looked back at him, he had moved to your calf, doing the same ministrations. The same feeling shot through you, and the same moan fell from your lips. Next came your thighs; both of his hands were now going to work. Zayne always commented how he loved your thighs, and it seemed that he spent more time on them as he worked. The tips of his fingers got oh so close to your core, teasing you with the ghost of touch when he worked his way up to your stomach.

“Doctor.” You sighed, his fingers walking up your navel and into the valley of your breasts underneath your shirt. Goosebumps appeared on your skin, and if this was the effect he had when you were dressed, you couldn’t imagine what it would feel like when you were both finally bare.

His hand cradled your neck, similar to before but more gentle, more desperate, and more Zayne. Not Doctor Zayne, but your boyfriend Zayne, who just wanted to give you a treat for behaving and helping him with an important assignment.

“It’s just Zayne now, darling.” His voice was just above a whisper as he leaned down, lips ghosting over yours for a second. You could feel his breath on your face, and you tilted your head up, pressing a soft kiss on his awaiting lips.

Then, it was like a dam broke. The moment you kissed him, his hand pulled you to meet his lips again. Every muscle in your body relaxed, and your nerves stood on end as he kissed you, his tongue poking at your bottom lip. A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped into your open mouth as your tongues met for the first time in a while.

“Zayne,” It had been a while since you whispered his name like that, and he had to pause, his resolve dwindling until almost nothing was left. “Please just touch me.”

A chuckle brushed against your lips, the statement hanging in the air as he pulled back. Fingers deftly pulled the buttons of his shirt from their hold, the fabric coming untucked from his slacks and falling to the floor in record time. Instead of taking off the piece of clothing you wanted, he climbed onto the bed.

“Your wish is my command, darling.” His hands pushed your shirt over your head, one trailing behind your back to unclasp your bra. Quickly, he unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs; much to your dismay, he kept your underwear on. But he often chose to leave them on until he was ready, and obviously, he wasn’t ready yet. It took him a moment of admiring your body, memorizing every dip and curve in your skin, both with his sight and his touch, before he spoke again. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

His thumbs brushed across your nipples, the ridges and peaks becoming extra sensitive both from the lack of contact and the sudden cold air. Leaning down, he took one nipple into his mouth, the warm contrast causing you to arch your back, pressing your chest further into him. His tongue worked wanders, circling and flicking as he listened to your moans becoming higher and sharper in sound.

For a moment, his teeth scratched against your skin, and you gasped, the mixture of pain and pleasure causing heat to rush to your lower half. At the sound of your gasp, Zayne pulled away, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. “I’m okay. It hurt a tiny bit…” You paused for a moment, biting your lip. “But I kinda liked it.”

Zayne nodded, cataloging that in his memory for the future. Even after two years together, he still liked to try new things to see your reaction to them. “Well, why don’t we try it on the other one?” Before he leaned down again, he whispered, his breath on your nipple causing you to twitch slightly. “Just tell me if the pain is too much, darling.”

As he dove back down, it took everything in you not to moan too loud. Your apartment walls were only so thick, and if you weren’t careful, another noise complaint would come your way in the morning. It was hard, however. The way his tongue flicked across the ridges around your nipple before finally teasing the most sensitive nub caused arousal to dampen your underwear further.

“Zayne,” You pleaded. The sensations were almost too much. No matter how many times you were intimate, the pleasure amounted to nothing anyone else could have given you. You were sure you had found your person, and you intended to keep him close. Close enough that your fingers threaded in his hair, caught between wanting to pull him closer and push him away.

Almost as if he could read the thoughts that spun in your mind, a smirk grew on his lips, causing cold air to seep in and sting against your damp skin. He pulled away just enough to trail his lips down your body, sucking a mark into the skin above your right hip. His eyes trailed up to meet yours, his arousal growing as he saw the effect he had on you. More than anything, he adored seeing just how much pleasure he could bring you.

The lamp on your bedside table cast a shadow on one side of his face, the lighting causing a sparkle in his left eye. His nose nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, just below your underwear. Warmth fanned over your core as he breathed out in a sigh, his tongue teasing the plush skin before he sucked another mark. His second one of the night, yet he so desperately wanted to stake his claim on every inch he could reach. It wasn’t that he was a possessive man, but he yearned to be remembered, and a surefire way to do that would be to make marks that you would see for days to come.

“Zayne,” Once again, his name fell from your lips like a mantra, a prayer to whatever deity above brought this man into your life. Except maybe it wasn’t a celestial being… Perhaps it was just fate that decided you two belong together.

“I need more words than just my name, darling.” He purposefully blew air against your core, his cock straining in his pants when he saw the damp spot that was beginning to form. “Although I must admit, I really love hearing you say my name like that.” A smack echoed through the air as he lightly snapped the band of your underwear against your skin. “Like you’re desperate, pleading, needy.”

“Please, I need you.” Your hand returned to his hair, gently stroking the locks. “Please, Zayne.”

A satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, and he decided that his own need to have his face buried between your thighs and the way you begged for him were enough. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, and he slowly sat up on his knees, pulling the piece of fabric all the way down until it was flung onto the floor.

“There you go, good girl.” His hands trailed from your ankles to your thighs, spreading them apart even farther. Taking in your arousal that glistened in the minuscule light that shone from the lamp, he smiled from his place between your thighs. “I think… You need further examination.”

After he spoke, his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, collecting your arousal. His hips met the bed, grinding against it for a moment of reprieve before diving back in. Cold air tickled your skin as he spread your lips, the warmth of his tongue immediately following. He memorized every inch of you; a catalog of every noise or face you ever made to every mark on your body was tucked away in his mind.

When he finally ventured up to flick his tongue against your clit, you jerked your hips up, a spark igniting in your lower belly. With a low moan, you tilted your head back against the pillow, a louder noise falling from your lips as he suctioned his lips around your sensitive spot. The thumbs that were spreading you open pulled back, one of his hands quickly moving to tease a finger around your entrance.

“So beautiful,” Zayne commented before sucking on your clit again, pulling back with a pop. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded quickly before opening your mouth, knowing exactly what he wanted. “Yes,” Your voice came out more like a whine, and you wiggled your hips. “I’m always ready for you.”

His resolve broke momentarily, the way he sucked in a sharp breath or his hips ground into the bed beneath him. Even through the veil of pleasure, you caught the minuscule tells. You saw the reactions and tugged lightly at his hair, causing him to look up at you.

“Who am I to deny you, then.” Gently, he pressed his index finger into you, eyes focused on how your walls welcomed him in. It had been too long since he felt that, felt the warmth surrounding him, and he slowly pulled all the way out before easing back in. Your tight hole offered slight resistance as he pushed in, but as he continued licking and sucking at your clit your arousal helped his gradual thrusting.

“There you go, darling.” The rush he got as he ate you out was unlike anything he ever experienced before. If he could spend eternity between your legs, he absolutely would. His straining cock was an afterthought as he listened to your moans pick up in speed and volume. “I’m going to add another one.”

His middle finger made the intrusion turn into a beautifully tight stretch as he spoke, your grip on him only causing shockwaves to run to the tips of your toes. Once up to his knuckles, he curled his fingers, trying it a few times until he felt your fingers tighten and tug at his hair.

“Zayne, oh my god, right there!” Your thighs threatened to close around his head, and if these were Zayne’s last moments, he would be the happiest man on Earth. However, to prolong his life, his left hand wrapped around your thigh and pulled, spreading you back out for him.

He kept going, stroking that spot over and over. His hair could always grow back, and there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t endure to hear your orgasm run through you. With each thrust and press against the squishy spot, your back arched, and your nerves built higher and higher.

Out of nowhere, the height reached its peak and avalanched back to Earth, your orgasm washing over you like snow barreling down a mountain. It was intense and prolonged by the gentle licks Zayne delivered to your clit. After you were buried under inches of snow, you pushed Zayne’s head away, overstimulation beginning to prick at the edges of your vision.

Heavy breaths mingled together as Zayne trailed his lips back up your body. A line of wet kisses followed until he finally reached your mouth, where you tasted your orgasm on his tongue. His fingers left, and an emptiness filled their place. While he was inches away from your lips, he sucked his fingers into his mouth, collecting the slick that was still there.

He felt drunk, his senses dull, and his need growing. Insatiable hunger grew in him, and he very nearly dove back down for seconds, but he was cut off from that thought by your hands tugging at his belt. His stomach tensed as he felt your fingertips against his skin, teasing the buckle as you tried to remove it.

“Go ahead, darling. Take them off for me.” His voice lowered to a whisper, and his eyes trained on your hands. Your beautiful fingers finally pulled his belt from their loops. It rattled to the ground as you immediately went to work on his slacks. A simple button and zipper before you were pushing them down his thighs. “Let me do the rest.”

Standing up, Zayne hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down along with the rest of his slacks. His thighs tensed as his cock stood, impossibly hard and aching. Kicking them off, he stood there for a moment, a shiver and goosebumps ripping through him as your eyes trailed up and down his body before landing on his cock.

“Lay down.” You started, sitting on your knees and holding out a hand to him. “I think that you need to be examined too.”

A smile curved on his lips as he sat down, his thighs slightly spread and welcoming you. His head tilted towards you, and his hand cupped your chin, pulling you in so your lips were centimeters apart. “Don’t need your mouth, darling.” A soft kiss enveloped you, and he grabbed your hips, sitting you down on his lap. He pulled you down so you ground your wet pussy against his cock, emphasizing his words with a low groan. “I need your perfect pussy wrapped around my cock, right now.” A pause. “Please, darling.”

He didn’t try to hide the need that dripped at the edges of his words, making exactly what he so desperately desired abundantly clear. You. Always and forever you. Nothing else in this world could satisfy him like the sight of you sitting so beautifully in his lap, your body all his to worship.

Giving in to his pleas, you lift your hips, stroking his shaft a few times just to tease him. It wasn’t until a low growl rumbled through his chest that you fulfilled his desire, lining him up with your entrance and slowly lowering down. The stretch was delicious, his thumbs massaging your hips as he guided you.

Once you were sat fully down, you both shared a breath, eyes locking with each other. Time paused; the only sensations you felt were his warm cock buried fully inside you and the gentle rubbing of his thumbs on your hips. To others, being the recipient of Zayne’s intense stare would be intimidating, yet to you, it only brought comfort and the feeling of being loved unconditionally.

“Stunning,” His voice was just a whisper against your skin as he tucked his face into your neck. For a few seconds, the only sounds were your sharp breaths and the light sucking as Zayne made another mark, this one just above your collarbone.

His hands massaged your ass, pulling you apart to rock yourself on him gently. It was a slow pleasure that began building as you ground on him, his fingers gripping your flesh like at any moment you would melt. Each movement caused his curved cock to rub against your walls, his tip pressing into your sensitive spot.

“Go ahead, darling.” The rocking didn’t stop, but Zayne’s hands moved to your hips, no longer guiding you but playing a more passive role. His lips were pulled into a smirk as he leaned back onto the headboard, eyebrow raised slightly as he took in the sight where you were connected. Your arousal dripped down his shaft and would surely ruin the sheets, but all he could think of was the warmth around him and the sight before him. “Grind on me, fuck yourself on my cock.”

Raising so only his tip was still nestled inside you, the emptiness was short-lived, your body missing the feeling and chasing it. The bed creaked slightly each time you brought yourself down, his cock hitting places that neither his nor your fingers could reach.

Need bubbled up inside you as you chased your high, your walls stretching around him each time you fully sat down. Grinding your clit into his bare pubic bone, a loud moan escaped you when you felt him thrust up into you. His own groans fell from his lips as you clenched around him, threatening to suck him dry. And it was all he wanted, to be sucked dry and entirely used by you.

“Zayne…” Your hands rested on his chest as you let the man below you chase his orgasm. It wouldn’t take much longer for you to come, and you wanted to reach it together. “I’m so close.”

“I- I know, darling.” His voice caught in his throat, head leaning back against the headboard and eyes closing momentarily. A small wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he scrunched them together, his own pleasure amounting to something uncontrollable. “Me too.”

Thrusts became more erratic, and you let your body chase his hips, the smack of his pelvis on your clit sending shockwaves through you. It became too much; your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to quiet your moans. But you couldn’t hold back. It was hard to hold back when Zayne was fucking up into you so perfectly that nothing could come close to the euphoria that washed over you.

“Come for me,” Zayne strained his voice, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that they would probably bruise in the morning. But that’s okay. He would always trail kisses along the marks he made, ensuring that he didn’t actually hurt you. “I need you to be a good girl and come for me.”

Nearly slamming you down onto him, the avalanche fell once again, burying you in indescribable pleasure for the second time that night. Except this was more intense, your hands and feet prickling with the sense of hypothermia. Your vision almost went white as you felt Zayne’s cum filling you. It was too much, his seed escaping from your hole and coating his cock in your mixed releases.

Cool air settled on your sweaty bodies as you sat there, his softening cock still deep inside you. Gently, Zayne pulled you off him and set you on the bed. He knew that you would want to cuddle, and he absolutely could not fall asleep on soiled sheets. While you finished coming down from the peak, Zayne turned the warm water on, setting a washcloth and body soap on the side of the tub.

Once it was complete, he shut it off, returning to the room to find your eyes closed and chest rising and falling consistently. He never liked waking you up, especially when you looked so beautiful under the lamp's soft glow.

“Darling, I ran a bath for us.” His arms cradled you, picking you up and walking the few steps into the master bathroom. While you relaxed, your eyes finally opened, and you took in the change in surroundings.

Zayne changed the sheets in nearly record time, and the need to be back in your presence was so high that he almost couldn’t take it. As soon as he was done, he walked back into the bathroom, settling into the space behind you. With the washcloth and body soap, he lathered your body, taking special care not to tease your sensitive nipples or clit too much. Relaxing in his arms, you leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes closing and body welcoming his loving touch.

His hands wandered up and down your thighs to the plush skin of your stomach, finally caressing the few marks that littered your neck and shoulders. A breath fanned across your skin as Zayne leaned down, soft kisses pressed to each mark. Though the water was warm, a shiver ran through you.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was nearly silent, words meant for your ears and your ears only. Only a shake of your head was there to answer him. Sure, they would sting slightly for a few days, but the following pleasure was worth it.

“No, you didn’t.” You turned your head, kissing his jaw. “You were perfect.”

A small smile graced his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist, enjoying the moment between you. These came few and far between now that he was so busy with school, but when the time did come, he never wanted to let go. He tried his best to satisfy you, make sure you didn’t decide you could find someone else who could give you more. But he didn’t know that you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, that you knew no matter how busy he was, he would always make time for you, and that there was no one else in this world you would rather be with.

“Thank you… For helping me with my assignment… For everything.” He countered, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “You’re always perfect.”

© starsforxavi

[cinnamanz]

✦ ─── 2 𝓱ands , 𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza keep your hands on me.

─── 𝓢ophia never considered herself the jealous type—until you got a haircut. overnight, it was like the whole world had started seeing you differently, comments about how fine you looked haunting her everywhere. no wonder she'd bossed you to have your hands on her at all times.

❝𝓷eed a little less talk, 𝓪nd a lot more touch.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. sophia laforteza x katseye seventh member!yn ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff, established relationship wc. 4417 a/n. good god i need to stop yapping ab details in fics i keep dragging them on on the other hand, this is my compensation for lowk neglecting u guys nd not bringing food to rhe tsble but i fear its school thats got me on a leash nd unless smn takes one for the team nd burns my school down thisll be happening more nd more often CS EXAMS ND ASSESSMENTS R COMING UP NF IMA BAWL CS WTFFFF EVERYTHING IS TOO FAST IM SO LOST FUCKKKKKKK may or may not have taken too long to get to the part where its actually inspired by 2 hands mbmb the use of 2 hands's lyrics was lowk cringy😟 NAWT PROOFREAD AT ALL🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ enjoy homos❤️

❝𝓲 just want your two hands on me at all times, baby. 𝓲f you let go, better put 'em right back, fast.❞

JEALOUSY WAS NEVER SOPHIA’S THING—at least, that’s what she always told herself. she knew you—her girlfriend, loved her. knew with every fibre of her being that you would never do anything deliberate to hurt her, never purposely stoke the ugly fire that smoldered deep in her chest. 

so why was it that, right now, the green-eyed monster clawed its way up her throat, curled around her ribcage, and blurred her vision like a stain she couldn't scrub away?

you’d gotten a haircut a few days ago—something sharper, something that framed your face so effortlessly it was almost unfair. it was the kind of change that ensured the girl crush label stuck to you permanently, as if it hadn’t already. and somehow, impossibly, it made you look even better—dare sophia say hotter—than before.

and safe to say, sophia wasn’t the only one who noticed. unfortunately.

the moment you turned to management and asked if you’d need a wig to hide your fresh cut from the eyekons before going live—like the other members had to in the newest tiktoks they were dishing out—their response was quick, casual—no need, you were free to show it off. gain more attention and eyes on the group before the comeback.

and that was all you needed to hear.

without a second thought, you propped your phone up on the table in your shared room with manon and daniela, fingers adjusting the angle with practiced ease, lips curling into a giddy smile. 

anticipation thrummed in your chest, an excited buzz settling beneath your skin as you ran a hand through your freshly cut hair, contemplating whether to hide it beneath a cap before settling to just tugging on the strings of your hoodie, tucking your hair out of sight from the camera.

the viewer count came rushing in the second you’d tapped ‘start live’, and your curious eyes peered at the camera, squinting to see what they’d been commenting about before shaking your head, a small chuckle of amusement spilling past your lips. 

user56 bro u look like an egg tf user1 humpty dumpty who?? user9 i think she pulls it off idk bout yall user0 ion care she can still get it even tho she looks like an idiot user2 i like them a little weird user89 GIRL TURN IT AWFFF

“i look like an egg like this? oh wow, that’s interesting. thank you.” you deadpanned, amusement flickering in your eyes as you read the comment aloud. a soft laugh slipped past your lips, shaking your head before tilting it slightly, as if assessing your reflection on the screen.

you kept the playful banter going for a few more minutes, responding to teasing messages with quick-witted remarks, occasionally tugging at the edge of your hood in mock offense. finally, you sighed, dramatic and drawn out, before giving in with a knowing hum. 

your fingers found the drawstring of your hoodie, twirling it lazily around one fingertip before tugging it loose. slowly, almost teasingly, you pushed the hood back, revealing the slightly poofy and mussed strands of your fresh haircut, the soft layers settling into place after being trapped beneath the fabric.

the moment your hair was freed, your hands instinctively shot up, smoothing over the mess, fingertips gently carding through the strands in an attempt to tame them. a small mirthful chuckle escaped you, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at the way the hood had left your hair slightly disheveled. 

but even then, you still looked effortlessly good. and judging by the flood of excited comments rolling in, and eyekons definitely agreed.

"we vibing with it, chat?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your fingers absentmindedly combed through your hair, trying to smooth down the strands that had been ruffled by your hoodie. 

your lips pressed into a thin line, dissatisfaction creeping in as you examined your reflection on the screen, the messiness making your fresh cut look a little less put-together than you had intended.

"shouldn’t have actually hidden it away from you guys," you admitted with a soft sigh, shaking your head. "or it wouldn’t have been this messy."

your hands worked quickly, gently pushing some strands into place, but after a moment of struggling, you huffed in mild frustration. deciding to leave it as it was, you leaned forward, reaching for your glasses resting on the table. with practiced ease, you slid them on, blinking a few times as your vision sharpened.

"my bad, guys," you said, lips twitching into a sheepish smile as you settled back into place. "couldn’t be assed to put on my contacts."

user90 raw raw ah ah ah or wtv it was lady gaga said user56 okay guys fess up who tf took my pants user4 iSWEAR my pants were just on user77 and the crowd is… undressing themselves⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ user78 omg girl dont play w me like that i might js make u mine user43 and FUCK whoever’s dating u bruh u look too good ima nut get OUTTTTTT user68 thank GOD my phone’s waterproof‼️‼️‼️ user70 TIL THE NEIGHBOURS LEARN HER NAME😭😭😭😭 user45 FLASH US

the chat exploded with reactions—some gushing over how good you looked, others teasing about your laziness, and more than a few keyboard smashes from people who were clearly losing their minds over the combination of the new haircut and glasses. 

you chuckled at the chaos, pushing your frames up the bridge of your nose before relaxing into the moment, letting the eyekons take it all in.

sophia who was watching just downstairs, however, wasn’t all that amused with the comments that flooded your live.

it was a jumpscare, truly. the moment sophia groggily unlocked her phone and opened tiktok, still blinking sleep from her eyes, she was met—ambushed, really—by an edit of your live from last night. the screen instantly flooded with clips of you, your freshly-cut hair falling effortlessly into place, set to the smooth, sultry beat of redbone by childish gambino.

typical, she thought dryly at the sound choice, but that didn’t stop the way her breath hitched slightly.

the light from her phone bathed her face in a bright glow, illuminating every tiny movement of her fingers as she instinctively scrolled down, her thumb hovering over the comment section before she could even think twice about it. she already knew what to expect, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

and sure enough, the comments were just as bad—if not worse—than the ones from last night. thirsting, keyboard smashes, people losing their goddamn minds over you. all of it blurred together in an overwhelming stream of admiration, and sophia could feel a familiar, unwelcome heat creeping up her neck.

because, god, of course everyone had to notice how good you looked. and of course, they wouldn’t shut up about it.

it didn’t help that the next few swipes on her for you page led to even more edits—clip after clip of your live from last night, set to sultry, slow-burning tracks that only seemed to emphasize just how good you looked. 

the way your freshly cut hair fell into place, the way your glasses slid down the bridge of your nose before you pushed them up absentmindedly, the way you’d smirked slightly at the camera without even meaning to—it was all there, replaying in high definition, edited to perfection, and worst of all, everywhere. god.

sophia groaned, flopping onto her back as she mindlessly scrolled, but she wasn’t about to just watch and let it slide. no, she was documenting this. saving receipts.

in less than an hour, she had added over fifty different edits of you into a private folder under your name, her fingers moving almost on autopilot. every new clip she found—save. another slow zoom-in on your face—save. a dramatic transition to the beat drop—definitely save.

by the time she was done, she was sure she had absolutely flooded the eyekons’ notifications, her name popping up repeatedly as she went on her little jealousy-infused saving spree.

but she didn’t care. not even a little.

because in her mind, this wasn’t just a collection—it was a statement. a quiet, possessive claim, a subtle way of reminding the eyekons exactly who you belonged to. every save, every tap of her screen, was her way of saying: watch all you want, but just know—she’s mine. and wait—no, no, no. jealousy is bad. an ugly feeling she shouldn’t be feeling. 

but the moment you’d walked into her shared room with yoonchae all mussed from sleep and seeking her out first thing in the morning, sliding into bed next to her, body molding onto hers and—to hell with it.

she’d decided to go live the next day out of pure boredom and cause chaos (unbidden flirting).

clad in an oversized black hoodie—one she had definitely swiped from your closet without asking—sophia lounged comfortably in front of the camera, the fabric swallowing her frame in a way that made it clear it was never hers to begin with. 

the sleeves fell just past her wrists, slightly bunched at her hands as she lazily adjusted the hem. paired with it was a black baseball cap, probably one of the few articles of clothing she actually owned, its curved brim casting a subtle shadow over her sharp features.

her free hand drifted to the waistband of the grey sweatpants she was wearing—another piece that was, without a doubt, stolen from your closet. with a quick tug, she adjusted the way they rested on her hips, ensuring they fit just right before letting her hand drop.

user44 GOOD GODDDDD user88 that hoodie looks rlyyyy familiar ms laforteza user51 SOPHIA LIVE OH GOD BLESS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user50 can u be my girlfriend for three seconds user41 BROOOOO I NEED U SO BAD SHUT UPPPP user32 how have u been sophia???

her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she glanced at the screen, watching the comments flood in—messages filled with excitement, teasing remarks about her outfit, and, of course, plenty of people calling her out for very obviously wearing your clothes again. she simply raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as she leaned in slightly, skimming through the chaotic flood of words.

but she didn’t deny it. not once.

it wasn’t until halfway through the live that the shift in the comment section became impossible to ignore. at first, it had been the usual chaos—people gushing over her, teasing her about the hoodie, and thirsting over every little movement she made. but then, as if on cue, the flood of questions about you started rolling in.

user55 hey queen so whats the deal w y/n?? is she single perchance😌😌😌 user63 is y/n there w u??? user80 is y/n single?? asking for a friend nd research purposes🌚🌚 user66 blink twice if y/n is in the room

mixed in with those were the more audacious ones—the teasing, flirty messages that made sophia’s jaw clench ever so slightly.

user90 how does one marry y/n?? help a girl out pls user82 can i marry y/n??

“no, you can’t marry y/n.” she’d replied, her fingers, which had been lazily toying with the hem of her hoodie, stilled. she blinked at the screen once. twice.

narrowing her eyes, she hooked her fingers under her chin, tilting her head slightly as she peered at the comment section with squinted, unmistakably disapproving eyes. her lips pressed into a firm line, and for a moment, she just stared, letting the weight of her silence settle over the chat.

and if the eyekons watching had any sense at all, they’d know exactly what that look meant.

“what’s that about me?”

sophia’s eyes snapped up from the screen of the live the moment she caught movement from the doorway, her sharp, narrowed gaze instantly softening at the sight of you.

there you stood, bathed in the dim glow of the room, your expression puzzled as you tilted your head slightly, brows knitting together in mild confusion. dressed in baggy clothes—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely over your frame and sweatpants that pooled slightly at your ankles—you looked effortlessly comfortable, the kind of effortlessness that made sophia’s chest tighten just a little. 

your prescription glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, a clear sign that it was far too late in the night for you to bother with contacts. in one hand, you loosely gripped a bottle of water, your other hand absentmindedly brushing at your sleeve as your bare feet padded quietly against the floor, carrying you toward her without hesitation.

completely unaware.

unaware of the absolute chaos happening in her live chat. unaware of the thirsting, the borderline feral comments flooding in, the way the eyekons were already losing their minds over the mere mention of your name. and most of all, unaware of the way sophia was staring at you—conflicted.

because in that moment, she wasn’t sure what she wanted more—to selfishly keep you out of the frame, away from their prying eyes, or to let them see you, let them understand exactly why she looked at you the way she did.

but before she could make a decision, you made it for her.

with an easy step forward, you popped into the frame, completely oblivious to the digital uproar you had just caused, a sweet, sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you greeted the screen. 

"hi, eyekons," you murmured, voice thick with sleep, raspy in a way that sent an immediate shiver down sophia’s spine. "how’re we doin’ tonight? good?"

your words were slow, unhurried, tinged with the warmth of drowsiness as you blinked at the screen, adjusting your glasses with a lazy push of your knuckle against the frame. your lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as you nodded, as if genuinely pleased by the flood of chaotic responses rolling in.

user77 girl i cant do ts rn im ovulating bad user66 standing ovulation or wtv the saying is user62 heyyyy so lunch by billie eilish?? user79 MY DREAM RIDE😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 user39 WHATT HEJVUKFMFK WHAT THEUCKVLVMK user50 CLEAN UP ON AISLE MY PANTS😭😭😭😭😭😭 user99 cldnt even edge to ts i exploded IMMEDIATELY😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 user34 the crowd would applaud but their hands are busy😭😭😭 user14 i swear my pants were JUST on

"i’m glad," you hummed, voice dipping even lower, softer—dangerous.

sophia didn’t stand a chance.

the moment the sound of your voice filled the room, she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, warm and betraying. without thinking, she subtly turned her face away from the camera, pretending to adjust her hoodie as she desperately tried to will away the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

but of course, you noticed.

your gaze flickered toward her, amusement dancing in your sleep-heavy eyes, and a quiet chuckle slipped past your lips—gentle, teasing.

"what’s with you?" you asked, voice lilting, but sophia refused to look at you, choosing instead to stare pointedly at her phone as if it could somehow save her from this situation.

it absolutely could not.

“nothing,” she tried to fib through her teeth. her face was half-hidden from the camera, but you knew her well enough to picture the exact shade of pink dusting her cheeks, the way she’d press her lips together in a tight line to keep from giving herself away. “don’t worry about it.”

a slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips, though you chose not to push any further—for now. instead, you shook your head in amusement, eyes twinkling as you took in the rare sight of sophia, who was normally so composed, absolutely crumbling before your eyes.

"someone’s suddenly a little camera shy," you mused, voice dipping into something teasing, playful.

sophia let out a quiet huff, still turned away, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the hem of the hoodie she’d stolen from you, as if focusing on that would somehow help her regain her composure.

and for a few minutes, she did just that—taking slow, measured breaths, schooling her features back into something neutral, forcing the heat in her cheeks to die down. when she finally popped back into frame, her expression was much steadier, though the faintest traces of pink still lingered on her skin.

thankfully, the purple lighting she’d chosen for the live worked in her favour, casting a soft glow that helped mask the last remnants of her flustered state. she busied herself with scrolling through the chat, acting as though nothing had happened, her posture relaxed, exuding an air of practiced nonchalance.

or, at least, she tried to.

because just as she started to settle back into her usual rhythm, her brows twitched—barely, but enough—as her ears picked up on something that immediately set her back on edge.

"oh, baby, you’re too sweet," you purred, your voice dripping with playful flirtation as you read a particularly bold comment from an eyekon. "but if you keep talking to me like that, i might just have to take you out on a date."

user51 MY TURN user23 A TEAR ROLLED DOWN MY LEG user89 OHMGYGOD IVOLUNTER ASTRIBYTE user62 RAWRAWRARAWRARWRAW user94 THISMADE BOTH OF MY LIPS SMILE user42 raw i meant AWWWWWW user82 this so made my hole weak I MEANT MY WHOLE WEEK user42 i am not cinderella but ik it fits user51 born to cowgirl, forced to fangirl💔💔💔💔💔 user41 i have nothing appropriate to say HER VOICE UGHHHHH user17 i finally got the water bed everyone wanted in 2016 user88 good now OIL UP user33 YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE ANIMALS IN HERE WTF ENOUGH GUYS ENOUGH YOU HORNDOGS user21 all ten fingers.

sophia froze.

her grip on her the drawstring of your hoodie tightened slightly, her jaw ticking as she forced her gaze to remain on the screen, pretending to be invested in the chat. 

but anyone who knew her—especially you—could see the barely concealed flicker of irritation in her expression, the slight way her nostrils flared, the way her fingers twitched as if she were this close to reaching out and physically covering your mouth to put an end to whatever nonsense you were spewing.

she knew you were just playing around. she knew it.

but that didn’t stop the possessive heat from curling low in her stomach, nor did it stop the subtle shift in her posture—back straightening, shoulders rolling back, as if preparing to stake her claim without saying a word.

user1 guys im kinda scared of sophia user79 SHES LOOMING HELPPP user52 guard dog who user93 damn sophia my b for even looking at yn user84 im gna sleep now okay?? dont choke me in my sleep pls user77 I WAS JS PLAYING W YN PLS DONT KILL ME user91 holy shit i js got shivers down my spine

sophia hadn’t meant to react so quickly, so instinctively, but the second another flirtatious comment slipped past your lips, she couldn’t hold back anymore. before she even registered what she was doing, her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your arm in a vice grip—possessive, unwavering.

your amusement only grew at the sudden contact, lips parting slightly as you turned away from the chat, gaze landing on sophia. her expression was downright murderous, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with a sharp intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

without a word, she yanked your arm toward her, grip tightening as if to silently remind you who you belonged to. both of her hands locked around your forearm now, as if afraid you’d slip away if she loosened her hold even slightly.

and then—thud.

in her urgency, her knee jerked forward, slamming against the table. the impact sent her phone tumbling forward, landing screen-down with a soft clack, the camera immediately blacking out. the live was still running, but now all the eyekons could hear was the sharp rustle of movement, the sound of fabric shifting, a muffled noise—

because in the very next second, sophia had tugged you forward, pulling you straight between her thighs with a force that left you momentarily stunned. and before you could even process what was happening, her hands were on you—one threading into your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, the other firmly cupping the back of your neck, anchoring you in place.

and then she kissed you.

no hesitation, no teasing buildup—just pure, unfiltered need.

it was all-consuming, the way she melted against you, the way her lips moved with a desperation that sent your mind reeling. 

she kissed you like you were her oxygen, like she had been starving for you this entire time—which she has been to be fair, and now that she had you, she refused to let you go. her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging slightly, as if to draw you in even closer—though there was hardly any space left between you.

but just as you were getting lost in the heat of it—just as you felt yourself melting into her touch—she suddenly pulled away, her hands shifting to your shoulders.

and then, without warning, she pushed you back.

you barely had a second to react before your back hit the couch once again, a soft groan escaping you as sophia moved fast, swinging a leg over your waist and straddling you with ease, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your hips.

you blinked up at her, breathless, dazed, lips still tingling from the kiss. but she didn’t give you a moment to recover. the rest of the world faded, the chat, the live, the teasing—nothing else mattered except this. except her. just like how she’d intended. and she leaned back in for more.

user77 HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON user51 GET ME OUT OF THE BASWMENY user11 BTCHCICHFUHFIE WTAFFDTFYE WHAT IS GOIUNG ON HELLO user78 I HEARD THAT user12 smn pick me up im scared user82 bon appetite to sophia ig user94 AT LWAST END THE LIVE????? user73 am i interrupting sumn user93 freak ON user44 media training went out the window im crying theyre not even tryna hide it HELPPP user25 probably making out in my cellular phone i pay for every month??? diabolical work i feel targeted.

sophia had no idea how she’d ended up here—pressed into the middle of a drunken, swaying crowd, the bass thrumming so hard it rattled her ribs, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the kind of recklessness that came with too many shots and too little self-control.

this was not what you had promised.

"it'll be chill," you’d said, smiling so sweetly at her earlier, brushing your fingers through her hair as you reassured her that it was just a casual going-away party for your friend—nothing too wild. 

but now? some random guy had the audacity to press up against her, subtly—or not so subtly—trying to grind against her like she wouldn’t notice. like she’d let him.

with an irritated grunt, she shoved him off, barely sparing him a glare before weaving through the crowd, jaw clenched. she barely knew your friend, didn’t care to, really. she wouldn’t even be out of bed right now if it were up to her, more than happy to be curled up under the covers with you, watching mamma mia back to back before switching to your personal favorites—until the two of you inevitably dozed off.

but no.

you just had to have plans. just had to drag her to some bullshit party for a friend jetting off to europe to “find the woman of her life.”

sophia cursed under her breath, her usually calm composure cracking as frustration simmered beneath her skin. her hands itched—aching to grab ahold of you, to pull you against her and make sure every single person here knew you weren’t up for grabs.

the flashing, colorful lights of the room made everything simultaneously too bright and too dim, disorienting her as she searched. the pulse of the music did nothing to drown out the growing sense of urgency clawing up her spine.

she should’ve never let you out of her sight—oh, there you are.

sophia could feel it creeping in—the sharp, insidious burn of jealousy sinking its claws into her chest, wrapping tight around her ribs like a vice for the second time that week.

surrounded by a cluster of women, all too eager to lean in, to bat their lashes, to laugh a little too loudly at something you’d said—something that, knowing you, probably wasn’t even that funny. yet there they were, hanging onto every word, eyes lingering a little too long, bodies angled a little too close.

her jaw clenched.

her vision blurred at the edges, tinted green with something she refused to name, but it propelled her forward before she could think twice, her feet carrying her straight to you, drawn in like gravity itself had shifted. 

she slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, a mask of indifference settling over her features like second nature—calm, cool, unreadable. but beneath the surface? she was nothing but raw chaos.

without a word, her fingers curled around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you back, away from them, to her. her hands moved instinctively, slipping over yours, guiding them down, redirecting—staking claim.

she flattened your palms against her waist, holding them there, her body pressing into yours like she needed you closer. always.

“want your two hands on me at all times, baby.” sophia's voice was a low murmur, silk-smooth and deliberate as she tilted her head back, lips just barely grazing your cheek before trailing toward your ear, a slow, teasing whisper meant for you—but performed for the lingering eyes around you.

“and if you let go, better put ‘em right back fast.” her grip on your hands tightened, guiding them to press firmer against her waist, as if daring you to even think about moving them away. her fingers curled around yours, possessive, a silent command to stay put. her heart pounded, a steady rhythm against your skin. 

"want your two hands on me.” like my life needs saving, she’d have dared utter if she wasn’t too lost in the way your breath hitched, fingers twitching against hers.

and maybe it did.

she leaned in closer, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear, her breath warm and slow, sending shivers down your spine. “let ‘em all know.”

her hand ghosted back, fingers featherlight as they traced along your jaw before tilting your chin up just enough to meet her gaze, dark and unreadable.

“can you do it like that?”

masterlist.

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

[okdeannawrites]

I do believe I just came up with another story idea for Sterek based on this image.

Putting this behind a cut because it deals with trauma and violence and feelings shared between a patient and therapist. It's a prologue before a story, since I didn't know I was going to write a new story until I wrote this today. Talks about feelings of loneliness and isolation, of past trauma, and about unmet needs. Please be mindful of any of that if it is a trigger for you.

CRAVE ME IF YOU DARE

DEREK HALE INTERVIEW TAPES

Recorded Therapy Session

Morretes, Brazil, June 6, 2016

“Where are you? Are you alone?”

I’m on my knees in a dirty, dingy alley, clinging to a past I can’t seem to shake. All around me, there is a carnage from a fight. Too much blood. Too much death, and screams, and cries from the still dying.

“How do you feel about that?”

It reminds me of the fire. Of my family. Of a life I never got to live. I never got to choose.

I want it to go away. All of it. I want to forget. Every single mistake. Every single want or need or what if. I want to be whole again. I want to be free, but I know it won’t happen. That it can’t happen.

“Why do you feel that can’t happen?”

Because I’m broken, so broken. And I crave more than the life I lead can give to me. More than the people I meet. The friends I have. The family I’ve collected.

What would they say if they knew how dark, how twisted, I truly am inside? How far I might go to leave it all behind, even for an instant. How much I would give, just to feel a sudden sense of euphoria. A sudden release of all the tension, all the fear, that entraps my body, my mind. Every minute. Every hour. Every day.

Would they be shocked? Appalled, at the need in me. The desire to be different. To be… unburdened, unchained. To be free of the torture that has held me back, made me withdraw. Made me afraid. To feel. To care. To even breath sometimes.

“What if you’re wrong about them?”

I want to believe they would understand. That they would help me become the man I want to be. But I know that they can’t. That they won’t.

“Why do you think that?”

Because they have their own lives, and they aren’t really a part of mine. Even if I wish they could be. That they wanted to be.

“Do you feel like you’re alone, Derek?”

Yes. But I’m alone because I choose to be alone. But do I choose to be alone because there is no one who wants me to be different? Because there is no one who cares enough to check in or keep in touch.

“Your friends' lack of communication hurts you.”

It does. I hate them for that. For not understanding that I’m more than how they see me. That I’m more than a face and hands and fists. That I’m more than a body to take their pain. To absorb their cuts. Their words are meaningless sometimes, their promises hollow. I hate it. I hate all of it.

“You say you hate it, but you don’t do anything to try and change it. Why?”

I don’t want to change it, I guess. I’m a man and I want to be a man, but I also want someone else to take the lead sometimes. To make the decisions. To call the shots and just let me be… me. Whoever I may turn out to be.

[writeriguess]

AUUHGYUFJSGKUHIAJL I love your writing sm!! can I request maybe like Denki or bakugou with a reader who's super stressed with parents who like...always drag down her hopes? if not then it is totally fine!! thank you so much for reading!!!!!!! <33 keep up the great work xoxoxo /p <33

Explosive Comfort

You were curled up on the couch, phone pressed to your ear, Bakugou sitting nearby with his arms crossed, scrolling through his own phone. He wasn’t paying attention at first—not until he noticed how still you’d gone, your knuckles white where they gripped a throw pillow.

Then he started listening.

Your parents’ voices came through the speaker, cutting and cold.

“You always expect too much, and then you’re disappointed. We’ve told you before, haven’t we? Maybe if you were more realistic, you wouldn’t be so stressed all the time.”

Your heart sank, but you bit your tongue. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” your father interrupted. “That’s the problem. You keep thinking life is supposed to turn out a certain way, but it doesn’t. You’re wasting time on things that won’t get you anywhere.”

Your stomach churned, but you forced out, “It’s not a waste.”

Your mother sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not trying to hurt your feelings. We just don’t want you to get your hopes up when we know how things will turn out. You should focus on something more practical instead of chasing—whatever this is.”

Bakugou tensed beside you, his fingers tightening around his phone. His sharp red eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips trembled even though you weren’t crying. The way your shoulders curled inward like you were trying to make yourself smaller.

It pissed him off.

But then your father spoke again.

“You’re not special. Stop acting like you are.”

The phone was snatched from your grip before you even realized Bakugou had moved.

“Oi, you miserable bastards,” he growled, voice rough with unfiltered rage. “The hell kinda shit is that to say to your own kid?”

A pause.

“Excuse me?” your mother’s voice asked, suddenly wary.

“You fuckin’ heard me,” Bakugou snapped. “What kinda parents tear their kid down instead of buildin’ them up? You think you’re helpin’? You think you’re bein’ realistic?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Sounds more like you just don’t want her to do better than you ever did.”

“Who is this?” your father demanded, bristling.

“I’m the guy who actually gives a shit about her,” Bakugou snarled. “Unlike you, apparently.”

“Now listen here—”

“No, you listen!” Bakugou cut him off, voice crackling with fury. “She’s smart, she’s talented, and she’s got more heart than either of you could ever dream of having! And you sit there tellin’ her she’s not special? That she should just give up? Like she’s not worth anything?!”

You had never heard his voice so sharp, so raw.

“If you don’t wanna support her, fine,” he went on, seething. “But you don’t get to drag her down just ‘cause you gave up on your own damn dreams. She’s already stressed enough without you two tryin’ to rip out whatever confidence she’s got left.”

Your mother tried to stammer something, but Bakugou wasn’t done.

“She doesn’t need your bullshit doubts. She doesn’t need your negativity. And she sure as hell doesn’t need your permission to be somethin’ great.”

Silence.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, hands clenched together in your lap.

Then Bakugou exhaled sharply and spat, “She’s done listenin’ to you.” And with that, he ended the call.

The room was eerily quiet. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Bakugou ran a hand through his hair, still buzzing with anger. Then he turned to you, his expression softening—just a little.

“You okay?”

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded. You weren’t okay. Not really. But for the first time in a long time, someone had stood up for you. Someone had fought for you.

And that meant everything.

Bakugou clicked his tongue and ruffled your hair, his way of grounding you. “They don’t know shit. You hear me?”

You swallowed hard and nodded again, this time with a bit more strength.

“Good,” he muttered. “Now c’mere.”

You barely had a second to react before he was pulling you into his arms, holding you tight, safe, warm. And for once, the words that had always made you doubt yourself didn’t seem so loud anymore.

[eclipixels]

Anyway chat where ??? Is my kaiser fics?? 😔

LET ME PYO!! YK that one scene where Kaiser is first introduced??

could you write me sum of that scene but like it’s reader sleeping on their shared bed and yk how how he’s walking out from the bathroom to take the call?? Instead of standing there he sits on the bed leaning back on the headboard caressing/twirling readers hair while taking the call?? Maybe a lil blow job at the end idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

Fidelity

Michael Kaiser x Reader

Content: Your relationship with Kaiser, how it began and where it is now

A/N: I hate this bitch so much like he's my biggest op and he's not even real. I hate him the same way AOT fans hate Gabi, I hate him the same way Demon Slayer fans hate Muzan, I hate him the same way Gojo glazers hate Sukuna. I want him DEAD like idgaf ab his tragic backstory. PLEASE come to America you German bitch, trust I got a strap for your ass you pale ass mf ima rip those fuck ass cheap at home kool-aid dyed blue ends from your scalp, you can't use your "soccer kicking" skills out of this the same way you did with those police officers. ON MY MAMA I WILL ROCK HIS SHIT if he was real. UNFORTUNATELY my bestie requested, and I had to deliver so wtvr, this is the content you get from a D1 Kaiser hater. You have been warned. Um anyway, enjoy :P

Warnings: oral sex 🍋

[3,822 words]

      It was just another Saturday morning. The sound of Michael's phone ringing jolted you awake, prompting you to grumble and yell at him to pick it up. Still half-asleep, you didn't realize he wasn’t beside you.

      You and Michael had been together for a while now. You'd known him since childhood, watching him grow while growing alongside him. It was strange, witnessing the changes in him while navigating your own.

      —

      "What's your name?" you remember asking when you first met him. He lived a few houses over on your street.

      "Michael," he answered, his voice flat, unreadable.

      "I'm Y/n," you said, offering a hesitant smile. Most of your friends were girls, it was easier that way. They were usually kind, welcoming, making friendship feel natural. But Michael was different. He carried himself with a quiet detachment, his expression unreadable, his posture stiff as if he wasn’t used to people talking to him. Truth be told, when you first saw him, you had mistaken him for a girl. His hair was long and tangled, matted in a way that suggested neglect rather than style. His clothes hung loosely on his thin frame, worn and slightly oversized. There was something about him that felt off, but you were too young to understand why.

      At that age, you didn’t question much. You didn’t ask why his hair looked like that or why he never seemed to smile. You just knew that he was there, and for some reason, you kept talking to him. Maybe it was because he listened, or maybe it was because he never pushed you away.

      Your mother was barely present, always chasing the bottom of a bottle or stepping outside for another smoke. Alcohol had its grip on her, and you learned early on that you couldn’t rely on her for much. You spent most days fending for yourself, learning how to navigate the world without guidance. Loneliness was something you had grown accustomed to, but when Michael appeared, that loneliness didn’t feel as suffocating.

      You started sticking around him, finding comfort in his silence. He didn’t gossip or giggle over small things. He didn’t ask too many questions. You stuck with him.

      Before he met you, Michael spent most of his time on the streets, stealing just to survive. It was all he knew, taking what he needed, keeping his head down, and making it through another day. But after you came into his life, something shifted. For the first time, he felt a strange, unspoken obligation to keep someone else safe. It wasn’t something he fully understood, only that you were his in a way nothing else had ever been.

      It was the same feeling he had when he bought that soccer ball—his first real possession, something finally, finally his to keep. You became that too, in a way. Someone he wanted to protect, to hold onto. And so, instead of roaming the streets or lurking in dark alleys, he started spending most of his time with you, in places that were quiet, safe.

      It was different with you. Not like how it was when he would eventually meet Ness. Ness was someone he could manipulate, someone who would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. A pawn. A tool. But you were not that. At least, that’s what he seemed to feel. You weren’t something to use, you were something to keep.

      While you attended public school like any other kid, Michael had never been enrolled. His father hadn’t bothered. So while you sat in classrooms, listening to lessons and doing assignments, he spent his days stealing, pawning whatever he could to get by. But the moment you came home, he was there. He always made sure to be there.

      "Today in class, we spent some time learning about history," you began, your voice carrying a hint of thoughtfulness as you recalled the lesson.

      "Hm?" he hummed in response, his interest piqued but his body visibly relaxed. Michael, who had just settled beside you after an intense session of kicking the soccer ball around, tilted his head to look at you.

      The two of you were lounging on the soft grass of a nearby public park, the sun casting a warm glow over the open space. He had been experimenting with different techniques, testing his footwork and control before finally deciding he had done enough for now. He then plopped down next to you and made himself comfortable, his head naturally finding its place on your lap, something he had developed into a quiet habit over time.

      "Did you know that the last German Kaiser was Wilhelm II, who was a cousin of Russia’s last Tsar, Nicholas II, and Britain’s King George V."

      "Oh," Michael hummed, his response quiet, almost absentminded as he rested against you.

      "In Russia, there were these people who wanted to change the way the royal family treated everyone, so they got rid of them," you explained, your voice steady but laced with the weight of the lesson.

      A revolution, born from the suffering of the abused and mistreated, had taken extreme measures to erase the rulers they held responsible for the devastation of their country. They had believed that by eliminating the monarchy, they could forge a new beginning, a birth of politics free from oppression. But in their pursuit of justice, they got carried away. Soon, the very ideals they had fought for crumbled beneath the weight of their own actions.

      Trying to hurt those who have hurt you, it’s easy to get lost in it. Once you rise from being the underdog to someone in power, the very thing you fought against seeps into you. It overwhelms, corrupts. Before you even realize it, you're no different from those you once despised. You start hurting the people around you, repeating the cycle.

      You were too young to understand it back then. Human nature—flawed, unpredictable, a subject of endless debate among philosophers for centuries. But you never expected to experience it, though.

      Once Michael got arrested, he disappeared from your life for weeks. You weren’t sure when or if you’d see him again and the thought of that hurt. But then, one day, he was standing outside your door.

      You were in your room, oblivious to his presence, while your mother was home for once. Unbeknownst to you, he lingered on the doorstep, unmoving. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating. He’d seen you a million times before, yet something about this moment felt different. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened. Maybe it was the fact that he never really knew what to call what you two had. He never really had friends, after all.

      Through the thin walls of your house, he could hear the yelling, your mother’s sharp, bitter voice laced with frustration as she blamed you for money problems again. Then a sound that made something inside him snap, the unmistakable clink of a bottle being raised, the threat hanging in the air.

      Before he even registered the decision, his body moved on its own. He kicked at the door, once, twice, three times, until it finally gave way. Adrenaline surged through his veins but his face remained void of emotion as he stepped inside.

      You were on the floor, frozen in shock at the sight of him.

      “Micha?” Your voice wavered.

      He didn’t respond, just moved forward, scooping you up effortlessly before carrying you outside.

      Your mother barely reacted. She couldn’t care less about you but when she finally turned, her gaze met Michael’s and for the first time, you saw something terrifying. The look he gave her was colder than ice, sharper than a blade. It was the same look of disdain you had only ever seen him reserve for his father.

      You didn’t look back. As you walked beside him, your hand held firmly in his, you finally spoke.

      “Where have you been?”

      Michael kept his eyes forward. “Do you still want to live there?” he asked instead.

      You were still only fourteen. Michael had just turned fifteen.

      “I don’t really have a choice,” you admitted.

      He exhaled, then said, “I think I’m gonna be getting a lot of money soon.” A pause. “You can live with me.”

      Your mind raced with a million questions. Where had he been? What did he mean by money? How was that even possible?

      But Michael wasn’t someone who explained things with words. He always acted first, letting the truth reveal itself over time. So instead of questioning, you simply nodded.

      “Okay.”

      He hummed in appreciation.

      It wasn’t until later that you learned everything. How he got arrested, what happened to his father, how he had been scouted by a soccer team that saw potential in him. They were training him to become something great, something unstoppable. And with that came money, a future, an escape.

      As for you and Michael, you weren’t sure where you stood.

      You called it friendship.

      One afternoon, he was lying on your lap again. It had become your thing. No matter where you were—whether on your bed, sitting in the park, or on the porch of your old house—Michael would always find his way there, resting his head on your thighs, golden locks spilling over as he closed his eyes with his arms crossed.

      That day was no different. Except, this time, it was late, far past the usual hour either of you went to bed. Bastard München had been against the idea of letting you stay in the dorms, but Michael had given them an ultimatum. Either they paid for your necessities too, or he’d find another team. And Michael was a once-in-a-lifetime player, someone they couldn’t afford to lose. So they agreed.

      “You asleep?” you asked softly, fingers threading through his hair. It was much silkier now than when you were younger. He was in cleaner clothes, you both were. You had access to things you never had growing up in poverty.

      Michael’s eyes fluttered open, blue irises peeking up at you through his lashes.

      He was quiet. You stared back, taking in the details of his face, memorizing them as if you hadn’t already done so a thousand times. Then, without a word, he lifted his head. His face was suddenly much closer to yours.

      You barely had time to react before his lips met yours.

      It was untraditional. Your eyes shut immediately, but his remained slightly open, half-lidded, just enough to watch you. He had never done this before. It was foreign to him, but he followed instinct, doing what felt right.

      Michael had never thought about kissing you before.

      The same couldn’t be said for you.

      He pressed his lips more firmly against yours, learning the sensation of your plush lips against his own. He learned that he really liked the way you tasted, a flavor uniquely made just for him.

      When he finally pulled back, he studied you, the faintest trace of saliva connecting you before you wiped it away with the back of your hand. Michael’s expression twisted into offense as he licked his own lips instead.

      “Why’d you wipe it off?” His voice was laced with mild irritation, almost possessive.

      Your face burned. The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

      “Michael, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

      The moment you said it, you regretted it. Your cheeks were on fire, and you had no idea what had come over you. Michael stilled, frozen in place as he just stared at you. His hand found yours before his gaze lowered, face thoughtful but expressionless.

      “What does love feel like?” He asked after a pause.

      You swallowed, gathering your thoughts. “It’s when you feel comfortable and taken care of. When your heart feels at home. When you feel happy.”

      Michael was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he settled back into your lap, arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face against you.

      “Then, I love you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible before sleep pulled him under.

      —

      Currently, you are in bed, your body cocooned in the warmth of the blankets. Michael stepped out in his lavish robe, the scent of expensive cologne and the luxury he’d surrounded himself with clinging to him. He picked up his phone, slipping into a conversation about some program in Japan that required Bastard Munchen's assistance.

      He was different now. Fame, fortune, and luxury had transformed him. He saw himself as untouchable, sitting on a throne that no one could ever knock him off from. He imagined himself soaring higher than the stars, out of reach.

      You saw the change in him. It was evident in the way he treated his teammates, in the way he treated Ness. It was... almost cruel, and it hurt to watch. You didn’t want to believe it. How could your Michael, the boy you had grown up with, become like this? You clung to that small, sweet, innocent part of him that still lingered, that side of him you knew was still there. Maybe you were wrong to believe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. You knew the things he did weren’t right, but when he was with you, he was different. He was still your Michael, the same one you grew up with.

      But he had changed. From the underdog, the abused, the mistreated, to becoming corrupt, merciless, and mentally abusive to other people. You wanted to feel sorry for Ness, to wish for things to be different. But your loyalty, your heart, it was with Michael. You were his Kaiserin, and he was your Kaiser. And you would stay loyal to him, even if it meant turning a blind eye to the harm he was causing to others. Even if it meant sacrificing your morals and humanity to do so.

      Who was the real Michael? The one with the world, or the one with you? Truth be told, you didn’t care. It was selfish and wrong, but it was the truth. You got to see his good side, the side no one else saw, and in your eyes, that was all that mattered.

      “Micha...” You stirred, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. He had sat down on the bed, his gaze falling to you. Even though you didn’t think you looked anything special in the morning, he always admired the way you seemed so peaceful.

      He placed a hand gently on your back, his fingers tracing soft hearts on your skin. Slowly, they climbed their way up to your head, playing with your hair as if it were the most precious thing to him.

      Michael wasn’t the only one who enjoyed resting his head on your lap now. You had started to enjoy it too. You found comfort in it, in the way his warmth and presence seemed to protect you from the world. It was the little things, like taking short naps or simply cuddling, resting your head on his lap, that made you feel safe.

      And right now, it felt no different. You inched closer, letting your body relax as you sprawled yourself across his lap. He had grown more muscular over the years. His thighs, once lean, were now firm and strong with muscle, but they were soft when relaxed. It was the perfect place to rest, feeling his warmth and security surround you as you melted into him.

      Wrapped in nothing but a robe, Michael was completely exposed underneath, though you were still too sleepy to fully register it. The haze of drowsiness clouded your mind until you felt the subtle shift of his body. Michael let out a low grunt, his muscles tightening in his thighs, flexing under your weight in a way that couldn’t be ignored.

      As he looked at you, his eyes were full of desire and desperation. It was a look he reserved for you, an unspoken plea that carried more meaning than any words could. It was his way of silently telling you what he needed, what he craved from you in that moment. He was always one to convey with actions over words.

      You undid his robe as he spoke on the phone, your hands finding their way to his hard cock. It was already leaking precum, the clear liquid sticky against his tip. You and him experimented with a bunch of different things over the years, only ever having each other to do it with which is how you found out that you really enjoyed how he reacted to your touch.

      Seeing how Michael acts with others vesus you was always something you indulged in. Especially now. How he spoke on the phone to those people while simulatuously just letting you ravish him.

      His eyes watched intently as you opened your mouth to let saliva drip onto his dick. He winced as it dribbled down his tip, mixing with the precum already there. You looked up at him all innocently through your lashes, sticking your tongue out before swallowing him whole. For a moment, Michael froze, the line on the other end repeating his name to make sure he was still there.

      “I’ll make them get on their knees.” Michael spoke seductively, almost as if the message was more for you than them. He tilted your chin up away from his dick, almost passing out at the sight when he got a full view of your pretty mouth that was full of cock.

      He gestured toward the floor, a silent command that you knew all too well. Without hesitation, you slipped off the bed, your movements smooth as you sank to your knees. The thick, plush rug Michael had insisted on for your shared bedroom was surprisingly soft beneath you, its texture a welcome contrast to the coolness of the floor. You settled into it, the softness making the position more comfortable as you situated yourself before him.

      Michael continued on the phone, getting details about where they’d be staying, just general information. You didn’t listen in much on the conversation, instead choosing to focus on your boyfriend’s warm cock buried in the back of your throat. Kaiser loved the natural sounds it made whenever he fucked you, whether it was your cunt or your mouth, the noises drove him feral.

      He liked having you on your knees, it allowed easy control on what was happening to him from both you and himself. He could fuck himself into your mouth if he wanted to and you could grip his thighs and suck the soul out of him if you wanted to, which is exactly what you were doing.

      His hair feathered along this forehead as he tossed his head back, feeling a pressure build inside of him as you continued slurping and sucking him. His free hand was tangled into your hair, gathering the strands into a make-shift ponytail. Tears brimmed your eyes from having your jaw open for so long but you didn’t really mind. You liked doing this with him, you loved the feeling of his cock in your mouth, you loved it when he painted your throat white, you loved him.

      “Shit—” He cursed, trying to keep his voice steady on the line. He hoped the person on the other end of the line didn’t hear him. The person didn’t mention anything about it so he assumed he was in the clear.

      Michael was a man of endurance, but when it came to you, he unravelled almost instantly, even if he didn’t want to. That being said, fuck, it was getting hard to hold in his noises of pleasure as you gave him a really good blow job.

      “Just text me the rest of the information.” Michael sighed before hanging the phone up. Bastard Munchen had long been accustomed to his attitude. He tossed the phone carelessly onto the bed, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief. Now, finally, he could focus on you completely, giving you his full, undivided attention without any distractions.

      “You have any idea how pretty you look right now?” He murmured, his hand finding its way to the soft curve of your jaw. His thumb rubbed over your cheek, wiping away the tears that clung to your lashes. You only smiled in response, continuing to work on him, using things he liked to get him closer.

      “G’na come in your mouth, my sweet little rose” Kaiser exhaled sharply, “You’re gonna swallow it right? Every last drop?”

      You nodded in response, your eyelids growing heavier as you lost yourself in your task.

      “Such a good fucking girl for me, always are.” He groaned, behaving almost primal. When Michael got close, he usually took the lead, allowing himself to rock back and forth in your mouth and you let him. Both his hands were now holding your face, careful to not hurt you as he used your throat to bring him close to his orgasm.

      “Fuck! Ah…hah—” Michael smiled as he felt the knot in him come undone, allowing thick ropes of warm cum to land themselves deep down your throat. He was pressed up so deep against your face, your nose brushing up against the cute tattoo of your initials he got on his v-line.

      Your cheeks were hollow to provide extra suction as cum filled your mouth. You enjoyed the sensation and salty flavor it provided. He slowed down his pace, revelling in the feeling of your hot tongue swirling his shaft as you waited for him to pull out.

      Finally, Michael pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath.

      “Look at me.” He commanded, and you obeyed, watching as he analzyed your face. He loved seeing you like this, you looked so utterly his. Michael remained silent, his chest rising and falling at a more steady rate now. He needed to look at your face, searching to see what you were feeling at the moment.

      Michael wasn’t dumb. He knew exactly how you saw him, how deeply you felt for him, despite everything. He also knew that who he had become wasn’t necessarily right. But he couldn’t change the way his past had shaped him, molding him into something hardened, something fractured. While you had taken your pain and turned it into empathy, breaking the cycle, he had done the opposite, repeating it, embodying the very thing he resents.

      And yet, with you, he felt freed from it all. You’ve stayed with him throughout everything.

      "Love you," he murmured, his voice softer than usual as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. This was his way of reassuring you that despite everything, he still loved you. And just as much, it was his way of gauging your reaction, making sure he hadn’t been too harsh with you.

      You only smiled, offering him the answer he sought without words.

[greynatomy]

limited

alessia russo x reader

hello 👋

this fic is inspired from the movie ‘seven pounds’. have you watched it? i had this idea after i finished watching and was bawling my eyes out.

i think i’ve made it known to some that i like angst on my birthday, so as a gift from me to you, here’s some angst.

let me know what you think

wc: 8.8k

trigger warning: suicide

———

in seven days, god created the world. in seven seconds, i shattered mine.

Alessia Russo had always known that her career wouldn’t last forever. No footballers did. But a career ending the way Alessia’s did come unexpected — abrupt, final, and out of her control.

Alessia was living the life of her dreams. Signing for Manchester United after playing for the University of North Carolina, she felt unstoppable. Nothing can slow her down… until. 

Eighty minutes into the match against Manchester City, the score is tied at two. Alessia was running down the right side, ball at her feet when…

“Alessia Russo has gone down!” The announcer screamed. “Russo has not moved. The medical team is rushing to her now.”

The stadium was eerily silent, players on the field formed a circle around her and the medical team to give them privacy. Everyone was holding their breath. The stretcher came out and carried Alessia away, still no signs of life.

“I was just told that both teams have decided to forfeit the match. Everyone’s a bit shaken up, understandably so. Thank you all for watching. Prayers and well wishes to Alessia Russo.”

Once Alessia becomes conscious, the first thing she hears is the beeps from the monitors, wires attached all over her. She was confused at first, the last thing she remembered was running down the pitch and now here she was laying in a hospital bed.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A nurse walked into the room, checking that everything is still in good order. “I’ll go ahead and call your doctor.”

More waiting.

“It’s nice to see you awake.” The doctor says, sitting on the stool.

“What happened?” her voice was raspy, throat was dry.

“Well, this isn’t easy to hear, but you suffered a cardiac arrest.”

“What?” She was speechless.

“We found out that you have a congenital heart failure. It was surprising to us that it hadn’t been caught before.”

“What-what does this mean? I can still play right?”

The doctor sighed, “I’m sorry Alessia.”

Football is… was her whole life. What was she supposed to do now?

The news of her retirement came as a shock to everyone. No one knew. Not even her teammates, her friends. Alessia just up and left, the social media post was the last thing people — except her family — had heard from her. 

You were sitting on a chair placed in the corner of the living room. The room was almost pitch black, all the curtains were shut. You were staring into space like you’ve been doing for the last couple of weeks. You were a void. You shut everyone out.

The phone ringing brings you out of your thoughts. Sighing, you slowly get up from your seat, trudging to where the phone is. 

“What?” you grated out.

“Well, hello to you too sunshine.” the voice on the other side replied.

“What d’you want Samuel?”

“Can’t a brother check up on his sister?”

“If that’s all you’re calling for then goodbye.”

You were about to hang up the phone when, “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t hang up yet.”

“What is it?” you put the phone back to your ear.

“I wanna come see you.”

“Goodbye, Samuel.”

You hung up, carelessly throwing the phone somewhere. You needed to get out of the house, so you threw on a jacket and made your way out, walking to a cafe not far from where you live. You sat at a table in the corner observing all the people in the room. The bell of the front door rings, alerting everyone of another customer.

You see a flash of blonde from the corner of your eye, but you were too occupied with staring at your cup of coffee. Eventually getting bored, you scan the room again, seeing some new faces. One particular face intrigues you though. She was alone, like you, staring out the window. You don’t realize that you’re still staring until her eyes lock onto yours.

Her eyebrows furrow, probably wondering why you were looking at her. Curious, she gets up from her seat, cup in hand, and walks towards you. You move your gaze back to your coffee hoping she doesn’t walk up to you.

“Were you looking at me?” she asks, sitting down on the vacant seat across the table from you.

“Huh?” you reply, looking at her.

“I was sitting over there,” she points to where she was sitting. “Were you staring at me? Why were you staring at me?”

You take a sip of your coffee, taking a deep breath. “You intrigue me.”

“I-what? I intrigue you?” She was taken aback, not expecting that to come out of your mouth.

“Yeah, I don’t know. There is just… something about you.”

“Do you recognize me or something?”

“No? Am I supposed to?” you ask, now curious as to why she would think you would recognize her.

“Story for another time.”

You both start talking about anything and everything, the conversation easily flowing.

“Alright, listen. I gotta run, but it was great chatting with you.” You chug the rest of your coffee, smiling at Alessia as you walk away.

“Wait!” she exclaims, a hand grabbing onto your arm. “I’d like to continue our conversation.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’d like your name and possibly also your number.”

A small smile makes its way to your lips. You pat your pockets, hand going into your right pants pocket pulling a pen out. Taking the napkin on the table, you scribble your number on it, clicking your pen to be put back in your pocket.

“Name’s Y/N. Yours?”

“Alessia.”

“Well Alessia, I’ll be waiting for your call.”

With that, you walk away, leaving Alessia with a giddy smile on her face.

Pulling into a parking spot, you grab all that you have and head to the counter. You don’t see anyone, so you walk around when a person steps out from behind the curtain, signaling you to walk back to the front.

“Welcome to the Travel Inn, can I help you?”

“I need a room.”

“How many hours?”

“A couple weeks.”

Turning the key into the lock, you push the door open, quickly scanning the room. Setting your things down, you sit on the bed, reading over a newspaper you’ve kept for the last couple of months.

Seven Killed In Fatal Car Crash, One in Critical Condition

That night kept replaying in your mind.

The next day, you’re stood at Alessia’s front door, her inviting you over this morning.

“Hey, come in.”

Sitting at the table, she places a fresh cup of coffee in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip. “This is good coffee.”

You both picked up where you left off at the cafe, the conversation easily flowing. Alessia was light and full of life, but you can tell there’s something hidden beneath it all.

“What’s your story?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt, but the happiest people usually have the saddest story.”

You can see a sad smile appear on her face like she was reminiscing.

“I used to play football.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah and not to brag but I was pretty good.”

You chuckle, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Well, one game, I was on the field and the next thing I was lying in a hospital bed.”

You pause, your mind going back to your memories.

You look around the room. Everything is a bit blurry.

“Wh-where am I?” 

“Ms. Y/LN, calm down please.”

You rip the oxygen mask off of your face. “Emily! Where's my Emily?”

“Hey,” a touch on your arm brings you out of your head. “You okay? You spaced out a bit.”

“Yeah, sorry. What happened when you woke up?”

Alessia bites her lip, trying to keep it together.

“I was confused. I mean one moment I was on the pitch, running towards the goal and the next I was waking up in a hospital bed. I didn’t know why I was there, wires attached all over me.” You reach across the table, placing a comforting hand on her own. “They told me that I was lucky to wake up. I asked them if I would be able to play football again and they said ‘One more match could be the last thing you ever do.’ There was only one thing I had to do and so I announced my retirement.”

Your heart aches as you listen, the weight of her words sinking in. You squeeze her hand gently, offering a silent support before speaking.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been,” you say softly. “Giving something up that’s been your whole world… I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes flicker with a mix of pain and acceptance. “Yeah, but I had to choose life, even if it meant letting go of the dream.”

You nod, understanding the sacrifice. “You’re still that player, though. Everything you achieved—everything you fought for—that doesn’t just disappear.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Thanks… I needed to hear that.”

The air between you shifts, heavier with understanding but lighter with hope.

You get back to the motel, carrying a glass tank, the guy behind the counter following behind you.

“You know you can’t take that in.”

“That’s good to know.” You smile at him, opening your door. “Have a good night,” you say, shutting the door on him.

You step into the warm cascade of water, letting it wash over your skin. The droplets trail down your body, mingling with the weight of your thoughts. The day has been heavy—every day has been heavy—but for a brief moment, the water feels like a release.

“C’mon! Just tell me where else we’re going!” she grabs onto your hand, the one that was resting on her thigh.

You run your hand across your face, clenching your eyes shut.

“I’m not telling you!” you glance at her, smiling at her before you look back toward the road. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Let me surprise you.”

“It better be good then baby.”

You turn the shower off, drying yourself off with a towel. Stumbling out of the shower, you wrap the towel around yourself, taking a seat at the edge of the tub.

“Oh, you have no idea!”

It happened so fast.

You’re driving, the road stretching out ahead of you, the hum of the engine steady beneath your hands. Her laughter is still ringing in your ears—light, warm—filling the car with life. You glance over at her, just for a second, catching the curve of her smile. She’s happy. They all are.

Your heart was full.

And then—

Metal twists. Tires scream. Glass explodes into a thousand stars. The world flips and everything slows as you’re weightless — suspended in the wreckage of a single, irreversible moment.

You hear it before you see it — the crunch of steel, the splintering of lives. 

Her laughter is gone, replaced by the sound of cries.

You reach out, but your hand finds nothing.

The car settles. The silence was thick and suffocating.

Standing in front of the mirror, you stare at yourself, hands gripping the edge of the sink. You want to forget it all, but you can’t.

You call her name — desperate and pleading. Your voice cracks, but there's no answer, just shallow breaths fading, then nothing at all.

You see her face, all broken and bloody. Her warmth was stolen away in an instant.

Your chest caves under the weight of it. The guilt floods in, sharper than any shards of glass.

This is your fault.

You scream.

You killed the person you loved.

Tears stream down your face.

The adrenaline wears off. You’re laid next to her, clutching her body in your arms. That’s how the paramedics found you, passed out, your arms around your lover.

You wake up but don’t open your eyes just yet. 

For a few seconds, you let yourself in that in-between space — half-asleep, half-aware, floating just outside of reality. The bed is warm, your body heavy with exhaustion from all the tears you shed last night. You wanted to stay in bed, not having the motivation to get up. 

Your eyes open.

The ceiling stares back at you, unchanged, but you know the moment is over. The memories from that night haunt your mind. You are about to close your eyes and drift off when your phone rings. Not looking at the screen, you answer.

“Hey, sorry for calling you so early,” you hear through the phone, making you sit up.

“Alessia,” you say breathily. “No, no. You’re fine, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to, uh, you know, have breakfast with me? And maybe spend the day together? You know have to. You could be busy. Shit, I should’ve asked that first. Are you busy? You probably are…”

You listened as she rambled, the corner of your lips twitching up. 

“I’d love to have breakfast with you.” That made Alessia stop her rambling, her side of the call going silent for a moment.

“Really?” she asks, not quite believing you.

“Of course. How could I say no?”

“Okay, cool. Cool. I’ll, uh, see you soon then.”

“You will.”

Hanging up, you go back to staring at the ceiling, trying to find motivation to get out of bed.

You ended up spending the whole day with Alessia, wasting the hours away. You were still wary around her, not wanting to get attached. Despite being so guarded, Alessia was determined to get some information out of you.

You’ve now found yourself walking alongside her, somehow making it to the beach.

“You’re like a locked book,” Alessia said one day as they walked along the pier.

“Maybe I like it that way,” you replied.

Alessia frowned. “What are you so afraid of?”

You stopped walking and turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “It’s not fear, Alessia. It’s reality. Some people aren’t meant to stick around.”

Alessia’s heart clenched at the finality in your voice. She wanted to push further, to break down the walls you had so carefully built, but she could sense that you weren’t ready.

“Are you okay?” Alessia asked, concern threading her voice.

You gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath, then said, “If you could start over, knowing everything you know now, would you do anything differently?”

Alessia blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I’d try to hold on to the things that matter more. The people who matter.”

You nodded, expression unreadable. “That’s a good answer.” Before Alessia could reply, “Let’s head back,” you say, walking ahead of her.

The walk back to Alessia’s was silent. Stopping in front of her door, you stare at her, Alessia oblivious to the way you are staring at her as she fumbles with her keys. Finally getting the key through the lock and twisting, you move your gaze when you notice hers moving toward you. 

“Have a good night Alessia.”

“You don’t want to come in?” Her eyebrows furrowed, looking disappointed.

“Not tonight,” you give you a small smile. “Sleep well.”

Dragging a giant cooler to your room, you were once again being trailed by the man from the front desk.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of shady stuff you got going on, but what are you bringing now?”

Opening the door, you step inside, dropping the cooler on the floor.

“Goodnight Steve.” You shut the door in his face.

“It’s Dave.”

You carry the cooler to the bathroom, opening it up, and you grab a bag, holding it up in front of you. You dump the contents out into the tank you brought in the night before, the water inside sloshing gently before settling. The room is quiet — too quiet — except for the soft hum of the filter. The glow from the tank casts a faint blue light, flickering against the walls, reflecting in your tired eyes.

You stand there for a moment, just watching.

The jellyfish drifts through the water, its translucent body pulsing in slow, rhythmic movements. Weightless. Effortless. It doesn’t fight the current; it simply exists. Something is mesmerizing about it, almost peaceful.

You rest your hand on the glass, fingers resting lightly. Cold. Smooth. Unforgiving.

You take a breath, steady, measured. You’ve planned every step, considered every detail. And yet, standing here, watching this delicate creature move with such quiet grace, a strange feeling tugs at you—something you can’t quite name.

But it doesn’t matter.

You pull your hand away from the glass.

The jellyfish continues to drift, untouched by the weight pressing down on your chest.

It doesn’t know what it’s here for.

But you do.

“The first time I ever saw a box jellyfish, I was twelve. My father took us to the aquarium. I never forgot what he said, that it was the ‘most deadly creature on Earth.’ To me it was just… the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

You called your friend over, wanting to discuss a few things. You’re sat at the desk, filling up some paperwork as he stood watching the tank.

“I talked to your doctor the other day, send over your files in the morning.”

“Is this everything?” you ask, not looking up from the papers. “Any questions?”

“Same one.”

“Same answer then.”

“You know, I was thinking last night, when we were fourteen and we made that pact.” You look over at him briefly. “Remember on the beach, in front of your grandparent’s house, we, uh, we agreed that we would never, never date each other’s girl. And I remember the day you told me that you liked Stacy Miller, that you were gonna ask her out and I said, ‘Woah! Hey, man, you can’t! Her and I already did it.’” You’ve put your pen down, paying all your attention to him. “But we didn’t. I wanted to, but she… liked you more than she liked me and — so I lied to you because I was so jealous and I’m carrying around this- this lie in my heart for the last twenty—”

“Stop it,” you throw a book at him. He stares at you. “Stop it. Stay focused,” you tap on the side of your head forcefully. “Do what you promised me.”

“What, you think I’m…”

“Do what you promised me.”

“You think I’m gonna let you down now.” He stands up, pointing a finger at you, accusingly. “I’ve known you my whole DAMN LIFE! Okay.” He taps on the papers you’re signing, “This, this! This is not something you do every day. Okay. This, this…” he waves his hands towards you, “is not easy for me. I’ll make sure everything goes to plan,” he wipes the tear that fell from his eye, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” You can’t bring yourself to look at him as he cries, not wanting to cry yourself. “Thank you.”

You’ve managed to avoid Alessia for three days after that night at the beach. You didn’t do much, spent most of it in your room. 

Sat on a chair you placed in front of the tank, you watched them float through the water. They somehow give you peace with how they move, almost innocently, something you’re quite sure you don’t have anymore. The sound of your phone ringing brings you out of your thoughts. Hesitantly rising from your seat, you trudge to where your phone is, answering and holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

You hear someone take a deep breath. “Y/N?” The person sighs, “Hi. I’m sorry I called so late.”

“Alessia? Um, did-are you okay?”

“Uh, I was- I was having trouble breathing after going for a walk. And I fainted,” your eyebrows shot up in concern, “an ambulance had to come and take me to the hospital.” She takes a couple of breaths. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I called you and I just-I wanted to — Y/N? You still there?”

You lock the door, walking out of the motel. “Yes.”

“Do you ever think about dying, Y/N?”

“Every now and again.” You answer, walking on the sidewalk.

“My face is, um, blue-ish. It’s not exactly a good sign.”

“You should try to rest. Just-why don't you try and get some sleep?”

“I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you too.”

“Would you tell me a story?” You look around, contemplating whether you should. “Please.”

“Okay, um, alright. Once upon a time, there was a, uh, little girl named—”

“—Lucky me. I just got it on reserve like that, okay.” You hear the rustling of sheets through the phone. “Let me guess, her name is Y/N?”

You chuckle. “No, actually, this little girl’s name is Jane.”

“I like the name Jane. Go on.”

“Jane’s little sister was always pestering Jane to make paper airplanes ‘cause she’s, you know, good at it,” you shrug. “But Jane had much bigger dreams than making paper airplanes.”

“‘Kay. Then what happened?”

“Then one day Jane went out to the backyard, put leaves and taped branches to her arms and started climbing the big ol’ tree. Her little sister said ‘Jane! You can’t fly!’ She said, ‘Yeah? You just watch!’” You couldn’t see, but Alessia had a smile on her face. “Got all the way to the top, and jumped.”

Alessia’s eyebrows furrowed. “How… tall was this tree?”

“Um, it was pretty tall. She broke her arm.”

“Oh-oh, my god! This is a horrible story.”

“Well, no, no. It gets better. Um, from that experience, Jane realized that she wanted to fly. So she dedicated her life to making spaceships.” The sounds of the city can be heard in the background, but you just keep walking and talking. 

“I thought you said this was a good story?”

“Oh, well, yeah that is,” you stutter, not expecting to be called out. “Until the-the dragon showed up.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Now it’s getting better. I like dragons, especially dragons in space.” You can hear her voice fading.

“Yeah, these were fire-breathing, space dragons with really bad attitudes.”

“I see.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you try to fall asleep and when you do, I’ll just hang up.” You suggest.

“M’kay. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for listening. And for talking.”

You don’t say anything for a while. “Try to fall asleep.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Alessia.” Phone still pressed up to your ear, you walk through the automatic doors. “Alessia?” Not getting a response, you keep walking until you reach the room. “Alessia?” you ask again. Looking through the window, you see her, lying on her side on the hospital bed, asleep. 

You hang up the phone and just watch her for a moment. She looks peaceful.

Stepping inside her room, you stand by her bedside, eyes scanning over her face, almost like you were trying to memorize them. You drag a chair to where you stood, sitting in it, never taking your eyes off of her.

The next morning, Alessia’s eyes flutter open. The sunlight peaking through the window blinds shines in her face. Pushing herself to sit up, she looks around the room, a bit startled, she sees a figure by her side, sitting — slouching — on a chair.

“Y/N,” she said softly, hoping to wake you up, but with no luck. She tries again a bit louder, that doing the trick.

You jolt awake, the loud call of your name pulling you out of restless sleep. Your neck protests, stiff from hours spent slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and for a moment, you’re disoriented— caught between your dreams to the blinding fluorescent lights overhead. 

You hear your name again, a bit weak but certain.

Your eyes snap to the bed next to you.

She’s awake.

You stand abruptly, moving closer to her bedside.

“You’re awake,” You whisper as if saying it aloud would make it not real.

“Yeah and you drool in your sleep,” you bring your hand up to wipe at the corner of your lips. Seeing a teasing smile on Alessia’s face makes a chuckle come out of you. 

“You’re an ass.”

“Hey!” She reaches out to swat at you. “Don’t call the sick names.”

“Oh, I apologize, my queen,” you give her a mock bow.

Shortly after your banter, the door opens, and a doctor walks into the room.

“Good morning!” the doctor was overly cheery in your opinion. “How are you feeling Alessia?”

“I’m as good as I can be.”

“Well, I’ve got some news. As we’ve briefly talked about last night, your heart isn’t getting better,” your jaw tightens. “That being said, UNOS has you at the top of their list.”

Alessia froze, not believing the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth. “What?” she asked in disbelief.

“The first heart available is yours.” She was emotional, understandably so. She hands something to Alessia. “This is a pager. When a heart becomes available, this will go off and you take yourself back here.” The doctor decides to give her some space to process everything, you following her out the door.

“How long does it usually take?” you ask once the door clicks shut. “How long does it take for a heart to become available?”

“It honestly is hard to say because it just depends. We can’t just take a heart from anyone.”

“How long do you think she has until her heart completely shuts down?”

“That’s also hard to say, but I’d give it a couple of weeks.” She sees the look of defeat on your face, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just have some faith.” You nod, thanking her, and step back into the room.

Alessia was looking into the distance still trying to process the doctor’s words. You place yourself next to the bed, not saying a word, offering some silent support. She gently grabs your hand, startling you from the contact, giving it a light squeeze. You squeeze her hand back, communicating without words. She pulls you closer, resting her forehead to the back of your hand, wanting to feel closer to you.

You walk through the lobby of your motel. The manager trailing you again, asking why you’ve now got a bag full of small fish. You tune him out like always, closing the door on his face.

Popping the top of the tank off, you rip open the bag, pouring the contents in. You sit on your bed, watching the fish swim around. The fish run into the tentacles, dying almost instantly. You don’t flinch, just curious about the fee—

The next morning, you’re picking Alessia up to go home, her having to stay another night for observation. The same doctor from yesterday escorted you both out, pushing the wheelchair Alessia was on. She gets in the passenger seat, you reach in the put her seatbelt on for her.

The drive to Alessia’s house was silent, but not uncomfortable. As you pull in front of her house, she breaks the silence.

“Have you- have you ever been in love?” 

You swear your heart stopped. “Alessia, please,” you say, almost pleading.

“You have!” her tone teasing. You didn’t answer. “Yes, you have. C’mon, you can tell me.”

“Um, yes. But it ended.”

“What happened?”

“Stop it.”

“No, tell me.”

“Stop it!” your voice raised. “Get inside. You need to get some rest. Maybe sleep.”

She hastily takes her seatbelt off, practically jumping out of the car. 

“Alessia, hold on.” 

“Just leave.”

“Alessia!” You get out too, chasing after her.

You’re both standing in front of her door staring at each other.

“Thank you for everything.”

You go back in your car, hands grasping at the wheel, and then you scream. You scream all your anger, all your pent-up feelings.

A few hours later, Alessia was making lunch when she sees movement outside of her kitchen window. There you were, pulling on weeds.

She goes up to you, questioning what you are doing.

“Is this your way of saying sorry?”

“No, I just, uh, saw these were getting overgrown, so decided to take a day off.”

She watches you work for a while longer before stopping you.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” she says, a hint of longing in her voice.

She leads you into the house to a room at the end of the hall. She unlocks the door, one you hadn’t really noticed before. When she pushes it open, you’re met with a room that isn’t like any other in the entire house. It’s not grand or overly decorated — if anything, it feels a bit hidden, almost like a personal secret she doesn’t show just anyone.

Inside, the walls are lined with framed jerseys, newspaper clippings, and photos capturing moments from her time at university. A glass cabinet holds an array of trophies and medals, each carefully placed yet slightly tucked away as if she doesn’t like to make too much of a fuss about them.

You step closer, eyes scanning the awards. There are championship medals and even a few personal accolades from her standout performances. One shelf holds a pair of worn-out boots, laces frayed, their soles bearing the marks of countless games.

“These were from my first goal in uni,” she explains, stepping around you and picking them up with a nostalgic smile. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out.”

You watch as she moves through the room, her fingers grazing over the items, each one holding a story she remembers like it was yesterday. There’s a quiet pride in her voice—not boastful, just appreciative of the journey she’s been on.

“You don’t show this room to everyone, do you?” you ask softly.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Not really. I don’t like to dwell too much on the past, but… sometimes it’s nice to remember where it all started.”

You take another look around, imagining the countless hours of training, the sacrifices, the triumphs. Seeing it all in one place, tucked away in this private corner of her home, makes you appreciate her journey even more.

As you turn back to her, she’s already watching you, a curious look in her blue eyes. “So, what do you think?”

You smile. “I think you are incredible. And I think you should be really proud.”

She exhales, almost as if she needed to hear that. You see a pink hue forming on her cheeks but don’t pay them any mind.

“Look,” she pauses, trying to find the right words. “I don’t really know anything about you or where you came from, but you keep showing up. And I’m glad.”

“Okay.” you nod, looking at her.

Then, with a playful nudge, she says, “Come on, you hungry? I’ve got lunch ready.”

You pause by the door, looking around for a while longer. Thoughts of what more she could’ve achieved if it weren’t for her heart filled your mind. It shouldn’t have ended like this. You walk out, closing the door behind you.

It’s been a week since then. You and Alessia grew a lot closer, but the memories of the accident become more frequent when you sleep. Or at least when you do get to sleep. You knew your time was ticking. 

You’re limping to your room, bracing yourself against the wall.

“What the hell happened to you?” The manager asks as you walk past, but you ignore him. “How much longer are you gonna stay in my hotel?”

“Motel,” you correct him.

“How much longer?”

“Actually, I was planning on dying here,” you say, no amusement in her voice.

“Well, you need to pay in advance.” You block him out, shutting your room door.

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You search under the piles of paper scattered on the bed for it. You answer once you find it, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Alessia. Are you- are you sleeping?”

“Yeah, uh, no. I’m, um, how are you?”

“I’m good. Was wondering if you were busy later? Come by to say ‘hi’ say around seven?”

“Busy? Uh—”

“Look, I totally get if you don’t want to hang out with a dying girl,” she gets out.

“No, no. I- I can come at seven.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye,” she whispers, a smile forming on her lips.

At seven on the dot, you’re at her front door. You knock, the door opening shortly after. 

“Hey! Come in.” She shuffles away towards the kitchen. “Do you mind if we eat outside?” she asks over. 

“Eating?” you ask, not expecting it.

“Yeah, you didn’t eat yet did you?” you can hear in her tone that she was worried you did.

“No, um, um. No.”

“Well, it was a surprise, but you’re on time.” She’s getting a dish out of the oven, placing it on top of the stove. “Um, I haven’t cooked anybody food in a while, so I hope you like it. Don’t lie to me.” She lets out a nervous giggle. She then grabs a present, wrapped neatly with a bow on top, holding it out to you. “This is for you.”

“Dinner’s ready and you’re not,” she walks away, holding the dish, “so hurry up. Chop chop.”

You go into her bedroom, stopping by the wall to look at all the pictures that lined it. Seeing Alessia setting a table outside, you open up the present, seeing a shirt. You quickly get dressed, walking out to the backyard. She’s sitting at the table as you stand in the doorway, gesturing towards the shirt you changed into.

“You look great,” she says, giving you a wide smile.

“Yeah, uh,” you look down at yourself, “it’s pink.”

“It’s salmon,” she says like it’s obvious. She waves her hand for you to come. You walk up to stand next to the table. Taking your time, you take it all in.

“You’re so nice.”

“So are you.” You take a seat, a bit uncomfortable with how intimate it all looks; candles, wine. “Everything is vegetarian. Um, I hope you like eggplant parmesan.” 

You fidget in your seat, not really knowing what to do. “I, uh, haven’t treated myself very well in the past few years.”

Alessia nods in acknowledgment. “Start now.” You grab your silverware, “Bon appétit.” You take a bite, pausing at the flavors. “What do you think?”

You look towards her with sincerity, “it’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The conversation started flowing easier after a bit. The awkwardness going away. Soft music fills the air around them. The song changes and Alessia perks up. She gets up towards the speaker, turning the volume up. She starts swaying to the music, getting lost in the melody. You sit back and just watch her. You couldn’t look away, mesmerized by how she moved, how happy she looked. 

She then turns to you, a teasing smile on her face, holding her hand out to you.

“Oh, no. I can’t— I don’t dance.”

“Come on. Let loose.” She grabs your hand in hers, pulling you up and you know you didn’t have a choice. She pulls you close, placing one of your hovering hands in hers, the other on her side. The music changes to a slower song. You start swaying, trying not to be stiff. Her head rests against your chest. You hope she couldn’t feel the way your heartbeat starts to speed up — she does but doesn’t say anything. She pulls her head away after a few moments.

The air between you crackles, thick with something unspoken but impossible to ignore. You’re standing too close, your breaths mingling in the charged silence. Their eyes flick to your lips, just for a second, and your pulse stutters.

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. You turn your head slightly, hoping she won’t see, but of course, she does. Her fingers, gentle and unsure, brush against your jaw, tilting your face back toward her.

“Hey,” she murmurs, searching your eyes. Her concern only makes the ache in your chest tighten.

You don’t know why this moment — why she — breaks you open like this. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at you like you’re something fragile but worth holding. Maybe it’s the way she’s here, close enough to touch, even when everything in you tells you to pull away.

But you don’t pull away. You do the opposite.

With a shaky breath, you reach for her, grabbing the back of her neck. Her lips parted slightly in surprise as you closed the distance, pressing your mouth to hers. It starts slow, tentative, but the second she kisses you back, something in you snaps.

You pour everything into it—every unsaid word, every suppressed feeling, every ache that’s been sitting heavy in your chest. She meets you with the same urgency, her hands threading through your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you builds, wiping away everything else — the pain, the doubt.

You feel her hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You exhale against her lips, a soft, needy sound escaping before you can stop it.

Then you’re moving, tangled together, finding the bed without ever breaking apart. Clothes fall away, but it’s more than just hunger now. It’s desperation, longing, a need to feel — to be seen, to be held, to be hers.

For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re falling apart. You feel free.

Legs tangled under the sheets, you both hold each other close, the rain can be heard pouring just outside.

“Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, voice soft, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere.

“What game?” your fingers trace the features of her face.

“What if game.”

“The what if game.”

“Mhm.” Her fingers caress your face. “What if… my pager goes off… and it’s a heart and it works and my body doesn’t reject it. And what if I have time.”

You’ve become a bit speechless, but after a few beats, it was your turn.

“What if… we have children? What if we got married?” You can see tears forming in her eyes, threatening to fall. She kisses your shoulder, trying to hold back a sob. The tears finally fall and you hold her close. “I love you,” you mumble. She pulls away from your neck, hand grabbing your face to pull you in. “I love you,” you say it stronger. She kisses you.

She falls asleep in the comfort of your arms. You lay on your side, head propped up on your hand as you watch her, watch how peaceful she looked.

You carefully slip out from under her, making sure to not wake her up. Quietly getting dressed, you look at her once more. Everything you’ve bottled up with her slowly hitting you one by one. Leaning down, you give her forehead a gentle kiss, before slipping out.  

You run.

The rain pours down, drenching your clothes, but you don’t care. Your breath is ragged, your footsteps heavy, your body pushing forward as if fueled with determination alone. Your soaked shirt clings to your chest, water splashing with each step.

You push the heavy hospital door open, breathing heavily, steps filled with a purpose.

“Alright,” you reach the nurse’s stations “Is Doctor Briar on- on duty tonight?” you ask, out of breath.

“She’s… doing her rounds,” the nurse looks at you in concern.

“Can you tell her it’s Y/N Y/LN? It’s very important.”

“I’ll, uh, page her.” The nurse picks up the phone, paging the doctor, eyes not straying away from you.

You were close to hysterics, thinking that you didn’t have enough time. You turn around, find a chair, and take a seat, still breathing heavily. Hearing a door open, you turn your head to the right, seeing the doctor walking towards you. Getting up, you meet her halfway.

“Hey.”

“Is it Alessia?” she asks, concern in her voice.

“Uh, no. No. I’m sorry. Is there- sorry.” You try to find the right words. “Do you have any more- any optimism about Ales- Alessia that you did the other day?”

“When- when you’re looking for donors with a rare blood type,” you nod, listening intently. Eyes bloodshot. “the odds go way down.”

“To what? They go down. What’s- give me a percentage.” The doctor’s reluctance to answer makes you raise your voice. “Give me a number.”

“Three, five percent.” You put your hand up, not wanting to hear anything else. “I’m sorry. I- I wish the numbers were higher.”

“Thank you.” you walk past her. “Thank you, thank you,” you’re mumbling, walking out of the hospital.

The rain pours heavily on you, but you don’t think about it. Pulling your phone out from your pocket, you quickly dial a number.

“Hey,” you whisper once the person picks up. “It’s time. I love you,” your voice breaks. You hang up, not giving him a chance to reply.

Stepping into your room, you pause by the door. 

You stand in the dim motel bathroom, the weight of your decision pressing against your chest like an iron vice. The letters were written, and your affairs are in order. You have spent almost a year preparing for this moment.

You twist the bathtub knob, water rushing in as you slit open the bag of ice. The ice tumbles into the tub, the chill spreading as you check the time on your watch, carefully placed on the edge. Hurriedly, you jot down a note and set it on the floor beside the tub.

The hotel phone feels cold in your hand, dialing the dreaded number.

“999 emergency.”

You’re breathing hard, the weight of everything heavy on your shoulders.

“I need an ambulance,” you run your hand down your face.

“I have you at 9216 Street.”

“That’s room number two.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“There’s been a suicide,” you sigh.

“Who’s the victim?”

“I am.”

“You are really gonna need to stop looking at that thing,” you let out a laugh, looking over to the person in the passenger seat, driving the both of you to somewhere special.

“Why? Is it gonna crack?” The woman is holding her hand out in front of her, admiring the ring that sits on her finger.

“Oh no. I paid extra for the non-cracking kind.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

A notification from your phone pulls your attention from her. Taking it out of your pocket, you read the text, occasionally looking back at the road.

“Honey, why don’t you just turn that off?”

“Yeah, hold on. Sorry, no more. No more work, I’m almost done, almost done.”

“Y/N!”

You don’t expect it, hearing tires screeching, horns blaring, her screaming. You swerve, narrowly missing the car, but there is another one. It hits head-on to your passenger side.

You’re flipping.

Flipping.

Flipping.

Then everything stops.

Bracing yourself against the wall, you step into the water, fully clothed. The water, ice cold, makes your breathing unsteady. Now sitting, you grab the edge of the tub, hands turning white with how hard you’re gripping.

Your mind drifts back to Alessia, how beautiful she looked lying next to you in bed. How warm her hand felt as she rested it on the side of your face.

You grab the bucket filled with the jellyfish that was placed on the foot of the tub, quickly dumping them in the water before you have second thoughts.

Then you feel it.

A searing pain explodes across your body as the tentacles wrap around your arm, your chest. It is fire and ice all at once, electricity surging through your veins. Your muscles seize, your breath catches, but you don’t fight it. You let it take you. 

You bite your tongue, holding a scream in. You grab the shower curtain, pulling so hard that you rip it off. The scream you try to hold in can’t be contained.

You’re running. 

You don’t know where to, but once you’ve pulled yourself out of the car, you run, climbing up the steep hill you fell into.

You clutch onto the curtain, the pain becoming unbearable, hyperventilating. 

You see the aftermath of the crash, freezing in disbelief.

Hugging the side of the tub, you let out another scream.

You’re running, seeing something in the distance. A flash of red.

Red.

The color of her dress.

Fully submerged in the water now, your energy draining. 

You stop next to a body, crouching down with your hands out. Legs giving out, you slowly crawl up to her.

Everything feels numb. The pain doesn’t feel painful anymore.

“No. No no no.” Your voice cracks, hands hovering, afraid to touch her. “Baby, wake up.”

Your fingers brush her cheek — still warm. A flicker of hope flares in your chest. You press your palm to her face, stroking the cheek that you’ve kissed a thousand times. “Come on, look at me. Open your eyes.”

But she doesn’t.

A strangled sob tears from your throat as you gather her into your arms, cradling her against yourself, rocking back and forth. Leaning down, you press your forehead against hers, body shaking with grief, mind clinging to denial, as if you hold her tight enough, love her hard enough, that she’ll take a breath, that her eyes would open and everything would be alright. 

But she doesn’t.

A sigh of relief escapes you.

Your vision blurs. The walls of the motel bathroom fade. The sound of your own heartbeat roars in your ears then softens, then slows. The pain becomes distant, then almost peaceful.

Then — nothing.

The sound of the heart monitor fills the room. Doctors and nurses surround the bed, doing everything they can.

But they couldn’t.

Beeps wake Alessia from her deep sleep. Her eyes shot open, narrowing on the pager that sat on her bedside table. She’s in disbelief, grabbing the pager making sure she wasn’t dreaming. She looks around, trying to ground herself.

“Y/N?” she sits up, excitement in her voice.

Next thing she knows, she’s laid in a hospital bed being rolled into the operating room. 

“Hi. How are you doing?” The doctor greets Alessia, ensuring her that this is real. She doesn’t say anything, still in a state of shock.

Your friend breaks down in his office, not wanting to believe his best friend is gone.

Alessia’s new heart beats strongly in her chest, still unknowing of where it came from.

Your brother sat on a chair in your motel room, finding your newspaper clippings pinned on the wall, all about the accident. He never understood why you shut down, why you distanced yourself.

Now he does.

He held a stack of envelopes, each with a different name, the same names that he found in a list in your notebook.

“About a year after the accident, I got sick. I got, uh, lung cancer. I needed a double lobe transplant. Y/N could only give me one of course.” Your brother, Sam, sat at the table, Alessia sitting across from him. “That must’ve planted the seed cause six months later she, uh, donated the right part of her liver to this woman.” He gives her a picture, you stood next to a woman in a hospital bed, smiling widely. “Her name is Holly.” She brushes her thumb over your face, tears now streaming down her face. 

Once Sam had left, she opens an envelope, pulling the paper out. 

My Dearest Alessia,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I wish I could have had more time, more moments, more laughter, more mornings waking up to the sound of your breathing. But time isn’t something I deserve anymore.

I have carried the weight of my past, every mistake, every regret, and every life I have shattered with me. No matter how much I have tried to let go of my past, that night still haunts me. You once told me that love has the power to heal, but Alessia, some wounds run too deep. Some burdens cannot be lifted. Not even by the hands of someone as beautiful as you.

I have spent my days trying to make up for the lives I took, giving away pieces of myself in the hope that it would bring back the ones I lost. And now, I am giving you the last piece I have left. Not because I feel I owe it, but because you deserve life. A full one. A long one. A life without fear, without hesitation, without the pain that has held you captive for too long.

I have seen the way you look at the stars as if you are searching for something, some hope, some sign that things will be okay. I hope that after tonight, you will look up and know that you were loved. That you changed me. That you gave me something I never thought I’d have again. Peace.

Please live, Alessia. Live enough for the both of us. And if you ever feel the darkness creeping in, remember me not in sadness, but in love. In every heartbeat. In every breath.

Forever yours,

Y/N

She clutches the letter to her chest, legs giving out from under her.

Later that night, Alessia lays in the bathtub, feeling numb as the water surrounds her. Slowly, she sinks under the water, stopping for a moment once her ears are under just to hear it.

Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

She places her hand over her heart to feel the beats momentarily before fully sinking under.

Alessia’s hands trembled as she stepped into the small music shop. The warm notes of the piano fill the air. She scanned the room, her breath caught between anticipation and fear.

Then she saw him.

A man sat in the corner, watching the pianist play their songs. His expression was calm, and peaceful, as if everything was right with the world.

Her heart pounded as she stepped closer. He turned to her, sensing her presence. 

“Hi,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ezra smiled. “Hi.” His head tilted slightly as if reading her silence. “Can I help you with something?”

She opened her mouth to speak but the words failed her. Instead, her gaze locked onto his eyes—warm, deep brown, achingly familiar.

Your eyes.

Her breath hitched. A sharp, unrelenting ache surged through her chest. It was as if he was standing in front of her, looking at her, seeing her.

She tried to hold it together, but the tears came fast, unbidden. A sob escaped her throat before she could stop it. She covered her mouth, shaking, overwhelmed by grief and love crashing into her all at once.

Ezra frowned, concern washing over his face. “Are you okay?”

Alessia forced a nod, wiping her cheeks. “I just—” she swallowed hard. “You have beautiful eyes.”

A small, knowing smile flickered across Ezra’s lips, as if he understood more than she had said. “Thank you.”

Her chest tightened. She could barely breathe, but she could feel you, right there in front of her. And for the first time since you were gone, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run from the pain or hold onto it forever.

She was back.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Alessia stood on the edge of the penalty box, her heart pounding — not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the pure, electrifying thrill of the game. The England shirt clung to her, damp with sweat and the weight of everything she had been through settled in her chest. But it wasn’t heavy. It was powerful.

The ball came to her feet—a perfect pass, spinning toward her as if fate itself had lined it up. For a split second, everything else disappeared. The surgeries, the hospital beds, the whispers about whether she’d ever play again. The months of grueling rehab, the moments of doubt.

None of it mattered now.

With one touch, she controlled the ball, took a deep breath, and struck it cleanly. Time slowed as it soared through the air, past outstretched hands, and into the back of the net.

Goal.

The stadium erupted. Her teammates swarmed her, wrapping her in tight embraces, their voices became a blur against the roaring of thousands. But Alessia barely heard them. She staggered backward, hands trembling, sinking to her knees as the weight of everything came crashing down. 

She choked back a sob, looking up at the sky, wishing — hoping — that somewhere, wherever you may be, that you could see her now. Pressing a hand over her heart, she felt it beat strongly.

Thank you.

Her teammates pulled her up, holding her as she sobbed. As the final whistle blew, a new wave of emotion hit her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to the sky once more. She swore she could hear your voice.

“I am so proud of you.”

[00yunje]

I see someone else has already posted a transcript, but I'd like to still include mine, just as another source.

The Capitol Crawl - Witness History

NARRATOR (STEPHANIE WOLF): BBC World Service and now Witness History with me, Stephanie Wolf. I'm taking you back to March 12 1990 — a day when disability rights activists gathered at the United States Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. to fight for the Americans with Disabilities Act, the ADA.

(Archive footage of activists protesting; one is heard asking, "What do we want?" Another responds, "Access!")

ANITA CAMERON: I remember we were lining up those of us who were gonna do the crawl, March 12 1990. It was hot.

NARRATOR: About a thousand activists including Anita Cameron were there.

CAMERON: We were so busy chanting, like, "ADA now! Access is a civil right! Access now!"

(Archive footage of crowd chanting "Access is a civil right!")

NARRATOR: What you're hearing is actual footage captured by a documentary film producer, from a protest that came to be known as the Capitol Crawl.

(Crowd chanting "ADA! All the way!")

NARRATOR: The chant is a demand that the US Congress pass the ADA after lawmakers had sat on a version of the bill for almost 2 years.

(Crowd chanting "Vote now!")

CAMERON: This is landmark legislation, it has to pass. You know, it's meant to highlight the struggles that we had to go through, being like second class citizens. We were getting, for lack of better words, like, desperate.

NARRATOR: Activists were frustrated by the inaction, and on this day, in a dramatic, symbolic protest, hundreds pulled themselves from their wheelchairs and began to crawl up the stairs.

(Crowd chanting "Access now!")

NARRATOR: The legislation aimed to extend civil rights protections to people with disabilities in the US, a portion of the population that was largely left behind at that point. It was all about access, access to everyday life and opportunities, explicitly prohibiting discrimination against disabled people in many areas of public life including the workplace, transit, and businesses. And mandating the removal of barriers to these spaces, from wheelchair ramps to accommodations for people with hearing or visual impairments.

Anita was born with multiple disabilities and remembers what life was like before the ADA. She had friends in wheelchairs who couldn't get down from curbs or even through the door of a business. For Anita, no ADA kept her from finishing medical school.

CAMERON: I'm ashamed to say, but I got kicked out. And that was because there was no ADA. There are all kinds of disabled doctors because of the ADA but back then it was like "Okay, find another career path."

NARRATOR: They did find another career path, and that would be advocating for people with disabilities. In 1986, Anita joined ADAPT, what would become one of the preeminent disability rights groups in the nation. At the time, ADAPT was only a few years old. And Anita was drawn to the group because they did things in the spirit of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

CAMERON: I was born in 1965, too late to participate in the civil rights movement for Black folks here in America. And I read about the civil rights movement that there were children involved, fighting for rights, and I wanted to do that and felt guilty that I was born too late. So at the age of nine, I made a vow that I would work to make the world a better place for all.

NARRATOR: ADAPT made a name for themselves quickly, through a specific style of protesting that some criticized as overly aggressive and disruptive. Anita loved it.

CAMERON: We were seen as militant and radicals. We were often compared to the Black Panthers, which to me was a badge of honour. Ooh yeah, tell me I'm like the Black Panthers, yeah! And you know, ADAPT, we were fiercely, fiercely non-violent. But we were in your face, and people didn't like that.

NARRATOR: The day of the crawl was a Monday, and it started with a rally near the US Capitol Building, where Congress convenes.

CAMERON: There was lots of speechifying, as we call it. Talking about the importance of the Americans with Disabilities Act, and how we would finally be able to "boldly go where everyone else has gone before!"

ARCHIVE FOOTAGE OF RALLY SPEAKER: "We will not permit these steps to continue to be a barrier to our rights and equality."

NARRATOR: After the rally, they moved closer to the building.

CAMERON: People then got out of chairs and started climbing.

(Audio of protestors cheering on the climbers, chanting "Go! Go! Go!")

NARRATOR: Anita was surprised her ADAPT colleagues let her participate.

CAMERON: I wasn't in a wheelchair. I mean, I was disabled. I had my tactile cane, my blind cane, my white cane. I started out carrying my friend Frank's wheelchair. And that wheelchair was heavy. And I found an attendant, "Hey, can you take Frank's wheelchair?" and I just sat down and I started going up backwards, on my butt. Like a lot of people you saw, they were like actually crawling up, hands and knees. I back-butted because I didn't want to like, put my hands on the hot ground and whatnot. I was exhausted by the time I got up there and I remember I was a little nervous but then I was excited, I was very aware of what we were doing. I felt like we were crawling into the history books. And as much as people talk about the Capitol Crawl, 'cause that was so visual, I think it was the rotunda takeover that was truly responsible.

NARRATOR: The day after the crawl, protestors returned to the Capitol. They chained themselves together inside the rotunda, a domed circular room in the centre of the Capitol Building. They forced legislators to confront the activists' demands face-to-face. Anita was there.

CAMERON: The chanting and everything was so loud, it reverberated throughout the building.

(Audio of activists inside the rotunda, chanting "ADA now!" with prominent echo)

CAMERON: And we had politicians telling us, "Oh, you gotta be patient," and we didn't let them speak. There were 104 of us arrested, I was number 81. And that's usually what happened. I've been arrested 140 times in ADAPT in 38 years.

NARRATOR: All of this action wasn't for nothing. When President George H. W. Bush signed the Americans with Disabilities Act into law on July 26 1990, a few months after the protest, he credited the millions of Americans with disabilities.

ARCHIVE FOOTAGE OF GEORGE H.W. BUSH: "You have made this happen. All of you have made this happen." (CROWD APPLAUSE)

NARRATOR: The ADA remains the most comprehensive disability rights legislation in the US.

INTERVIEWER (STEPHANIE WOLF): Do you think the ADA would have gotten passed had it not been for that direct action by you and other members of ADAPT?

CAMERON: No. No, it would not have. Not at all. If we had done nothing, we'd probably still be trying to get the ADA passed now. I am grateful for it. We wouldn't have as many disabled students graduating, disabled positions, disabled people out there living life and having fun, not just going to doctor's appointments. We still have a ways to go.

NARRATOR: All these years later, Anita is making sure this history isn't forgotten, and that the stories of the Black activists are told as well.

CAMERON: Uplifting the participation of Black disabled people. People like us existed. We were out there in those streets. We were out there getting arrested. So that's what I want to do — I want to contribute to history.

NARRATOR: Anita Cameron was speaking to me, Stephanie Wolf, for Witness History. It was a Written in Air production. Rebekah Romberg co-produced it. Archival audio courtesy of documentary film producer and director Linda Litowsky.

On 12 March 1990, dozens of disabled people descended on the US Capitol and carried out a protest which became known as the Capitol Crawl. Participants were protesting against the stalling of a proposed law, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), which would prohibit discrimination against disabled people. Around 1000 other protesters watched and cheered while dozens of members of ADAPT, a group campaigning for public transit access for disabled people, abandoned their wheelchairs and mobility aids and began crawling up the steps of the building housing Congress. It was a powerful illustration of the difficulties faced by many disabled people faced with a hostile environment which had been constructed without their needs in mind. Michael Winter, one of the participants later reflected: “Some people may have thought it was undignified for people in wheelchairs to crawl in that manner, but I felt that it was necessary to show the country what kinds of things people with disabilities have to face on a day-to-day basis. We had to be willing to fight for what we believed in.” In the wake of the protest, Congress passed the bill and it was signed into law in July 1990. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.1819457841572691/2229212140597257/?type=3

[00valentina-writes00]

hey! I was wondering if you could do a vi x reader fic where vi has gained some waight because now she is being properly fed now she’s out of prison. And maybe she’s a little incacure. So reader comforts her and it’s a lot of fluff. And reader kissing her body to show her how beautiful she is. I think this is a cute idia.

♡♥︎ More to Love ♥︎♡

Warnings: Soft!Vi, body insecurity, comfort, kisses everywhere, lots of love and reassurance, Vi being soft for you, reader is a smooth talker, fluff overload

Vi never thought much about her body.

Growing up in Zaun, food wasn’t always guaranteed, and you took what you could get. Then came prison—six years of rationed meals, brutal fights, and grueling workouts just to stay strong enough to survive. Her body had always been a weapon, lean muscle wrapped over sharp edges, built to fight, built to endure.

But now? Now she’s out. She’s free. And for the first time in her life, she isn’t constantly on guard, waiting for the next punch, the next threat. She’s got a roof over her head, warm meals on the table, and most importantly—she’s got you.

And it’s showing.

It started small. Her abs, once cut sharp from prison workouts, softened just a bit. Her arms still held their strength, but they didn’t look as wiry as before. Her thighs thickened, the sharp lines of muscle blending into something fuller. Her cheeks, once hollow from years of scraping by, had a little more roundness to them now.

She wasn’t weak. She could still throw a punch, still take down anyone who looked at you wrong—but when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, the change was obvious. And it made something tight coil in her chest.

She tries not to let it show. Tries to act like it doesn’t bother her. But you notice.

You always notice.

⸻

It starts when Vi pulls away from your touch.

Not obviously, not all at once. But little things. She stops lounging around shirtless like she used to, opting for looser tops that don’t cling to her frame. She doesn’t stretch as often in front of you, like she’s suddenly aware of the way her body moves. And at night, when she used to pull you into her, bare skin against bare skin, she hesitates.

Tonight is no different.

You’re curled up in bed, waiting for Vi to slide in beside you, but she lingers by the dresser, back turned, hands gripping the hem of her tank top. Her shoulders are tense, and you can see the way she exhales slowly, like she’s trying to psych herself up for something.

“Vi,” you call softly, patting the space beside you. “C’mere.”

She hesitates, then sighs, finally turning around. But instead of crawling under the covers with you like she always does, she stays sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched.

Something’s wrong.

You sit up, shifting closer until your knee bumps her thigh. “Hey,” you murmur, reaching for her hand. She lets you take it, but her grip is loose, uncertain. “What’s going on?”

She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Nothin’, just… thinking.”

“About?”

Vi’s jaw tenses. She rubs the back of her neck, eyes flickering to the mirror across the room before looking away just as fast. And that’s when it clicks.

You glance at the mirror, at the way her shirt clings to her torso, the soft dip of her stomach where hard lines used to be. And suddenly, you understand.

“Vi,” you say gently, squeezing her hand. “Talk to me.”

She exhales sharply, rubbing at her face. “It’s stupid,” she mutters. “Forget it.”

“Not a chance.” You shift closer, pressing against her side. “You know you can tell me anything.”

For a long moment, she says nothing. Then, finally—

“I just…” She swallows, her voice quieter than usual. “I don’t look like I used to.”

You tilt your head. “And that’s a bad thing?”

Vi shifts uncomfortably, shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno. I was in shape before. Fit. Now, I look… different.” She lets out a humorless chuckle. “Guess I got too comfortable, huh?”

Your heart aches at the way she says it, like she thinks she let herself go, like she doesn’t see what you see.

Sliding onto your knees, you move to straddle her lap, your hands resting on her shoulders. Vi looks up at you, surprised, but you don’t give her a chance to pull away.

“Vi,” you say, voice firm but soft, “you’re beautiful.”

She huffs, looking away. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” You cup her face, gently guiding her gaze back to you. “I mean it.”

Her hands find your waist, hesitant, like she’s afraid of what you’ll do next. So you show her.

Starting at her jaw, you press a soft kiss to her skin, then another, trailing down to the curve of her neck.

“You have no idea how much I love this body,” you murmur, lips brushing over her collarbone. “How much I love you.”

Her breath hitches, fingers flexing against your waist. “Babe—”

You don’t let her finish. Instead, you slide your hands under the hem of her shirt, pushing it up, up, until she lifts her arms and lets you pull it over her head.

And gods, she’s stunning.

You take your time, tracing your fingers over the new softness of her stomach, the dips and curves of her waist. Pressing a kiss to her sternum, you glance up at her. “You’re strong, Vi. You always have been. And just because you’re not starving anymore doesn’t change that.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t argue. So you keep going.

You kiss her shoulders, her biceps, the slight roundness of her belly. You worship every inch of her, murmuring praise against her skin, reminding her of just how much you adore her.

And slowly, slowly, the tension in her body melts away.

When you press a final kiss to the curve of her hip, Vi exhales a shaky breath, hands cupping your face to pull you back up to her lips. The kiss she gives you is deep, slow, filled with something raw and vulnerable.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she whispers against your lips.

You grin, brushing your nose against hers. “Yeah, yeah. But now you believe me, right?”

She looks at you for a long moment, then nods. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I do.”

And when she pulls you against her, holding you close, you know she means it.

[pomegranatelifethis]

Batfam with reader who is obsessed with birds and works at an aviary? Not necessarily yandere or neglected reader but they just never knew and now they’re all questioning if they got into birds because their family is nicknamed bats and birds.

Reader admits not necessarily, they just had too much free time because they aren’t a vigilante and started looking into actual Robins and other birds. Now the whole family is visiting the aviary and donating whenever because they see how much reader loves the place. Cuz let’s be honest—an aviary in Gotham would probably be kind of sad or used for birds who can’t go back to the wild or need the high tech vet equipment.

In the sky

The fact that there was an aviary in Gotham was strange enough, but this place was especially unique. It was a sanctuary for birds that couldn’t return to the wild or needed special care. In the midst of the city's chaos, it was a quiet place, filled with the sound of fluttering wings and soft chirps.

And this was where [Name] found themselves coming every day—eventually even volunteering.

The rest of the Batfamily had no idea. At least, not for a while. They assumed [Name] was just as busy as they were, running through the shadows, fighting crime. But the truth was, [Name] spent their free time with birds.

How did they find out?

By accident.

One day, Dick had been looking for fun anecdotes about the name "Robin" when he stumbled upon [Name]’s search history. Gotham’s bird species, interesting facts about old Robins, hunting techniques of raptors—the list went on. Then, one day, Tim spotted [Name] entering the aviary. Curious, he followed.

And he couldn’t believe what he saw.

[Name] was holding an injured hawk, their eyes shining with affection.

That day, everything changed.

First, Tim came by to check it out. Then Dick. Then Jason, just to see what all the fuss was about. Damian, already an animal lover, didn’t take long to join. Eventually, even Bruce found himself there.

And so, Gotham’s most dangerous family started making regular donations to an aviary.

Of course, [Name] understood that they probably felt some kind of connection because of their bird-themed codenames. But the truth was much simpler: [Name] just loved birds. It was an escape from Gotham’s noise, from the chaos, from the life of masks and fights.

Still, after seeing how much it meant to [Name], their family kept donating more and more.

Bruce framed it as a strategic investment. (“It’s important for Gotham’s ecosystem.”)

Jason just shrugged. “At least these winged creatures don’t scream at me.”

Dick declared, “This place is amazing!” and immediately started suggesting names for the birds.

Damian asked, “Can I bring Titus?”

And Tim? Tim was still suspicious about [Name]’s deep dive into bird research.

“Are you trying to tell us something?” he asked one day.

[Name] rolled their eyes while petting an owl. “I just have too much free time.”

But their family? Whether they meant to or not, they had become a part of [Name]’s world.

The family's visits to the aviary had become a tradition. At first, they were just curious—why was [Name] so attached to this place? But over time, each of them admitted that, in a strange way, it was soothing.

Of course, they experienced it in their own chaotic ways.

Dick always tried to talk to a parrot or a crow whenever he visited. One day, he winked at an injured sparrow and said, “Look, another orphan.” Jason muttered, “If I ever need to send a message to someone I want dead, I’ll do it with a raven.” Damian, while feeding a crippled hawk, had decided to name it “Death Talon.”

Bruce? He mostly stood in the background, made donations, and ensured everyone was happy.

But Tim… Tim was still suspicious.

“Okay,” he said one day, crossing his arms as he looked at [Name]. “Tell me the truth. Did you… get inspired by us?”

[Name] furrowed their brows while holding a pigeon. “Why would I do that?”

“Because!” Tim gestured broadly at the entire aviary. “Your whole life is about birds! Out of everything in Gotham, isn’t it weird that you ended up working in an aviary?”

[Name] thought for a moment.

Yes, maybe it was weird. But when they first visited, they had found solace in escaping Gotham’s cold and chaotic atmosphere. Here, in this warm space filled with the sound of fluttering wings, there was no crime. No gunfire. Just wounded creatures trying to heal.

Then, they smiled softly.

“Maybe I just haven’t gotten used to having free time without being an outlaw.”

Tim stared at them for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Alright. But I’m still suspicious.”

And so, the Bat Family remained Gotham’s most unusual benefactors. At some point, Bruce’s foundation even became an official sponsor of the aviary.

And in that way, [Name]’s world and their family—under wings—became a little more connected.

---

You knew this was a bad idea within the first five minutes.

But what could you do? Dick had insisted, "We can all help in some way!" Tim had said, "With our organizational skills, we can make this place more efficient." Jason had just shrugged and said, "Count me in, might be fun." And when Bruce said, "Contributing to the community is a good thing," you knew there was no escape.

And now, here you were. Having made the biggest mistake of your life.

---

Dick – Pigeon Chaos

You told Dick to just feed the pigeons. Simple task. But this was Dick. And nothing ever stayed simple with him.

"Alright, everyone, form a line!" he called out, throwing the feed into the air.

Wrong move.

Because within a minute, dozens of pigeons swarmed.

At first, Dick was amused. Then, he realized they were flying straight at him.

"AH! OKAY! TOO MANY! TOO MANY!" he shouted, stumbling back. But it was too late. The pigeons had already landed on his shoulders, arms, and head.

Jason collapsed onto the ground, laughing. "We could leave you here as Alfred's new garden decoration."

Dick, panic all over his face, narrowed his eyes. "If you don’t help me, I’m dragging you into this."

Jason took a step back. "Fine, fine, enjoy yourself."

Meanwhile, one of the pigeons started pecking at Dick’s hair.

---

Jason – A Predator Problem

Jason had made a grave mistake by saying, "I can handle the birds of prey."

And now, a very intense-looking owl was challenging him.

"Look, buddy," Jason said, staring at the owl perched in front of him. "I’m just trying to feed you. Stop giving me that look."

The owl glared harder.

Jason narrowed his eyes.

The owl narrowed its eyes.

Neither moved.

You took a deep breath. "Jason, please stop trying to establish dominance over an owl."

Jason sighed, realizing the owl was still glaring at him. "Forget this."

Just as he turned away, the owl spread its wings and launched itself directly at him.

And in that moment, Gotham’s deadliest assassin started running around, yelling, "AH! AH! GET OFF ME!"

Tim pulled out his phone. "This is definitely getting recorded."

With the owl now proudly perched on his head, Jason admitted defeat.

---

Tim – Smart Guy, Dumb Mistake

Tim’s job was simple: prepare the birds' medicine.

And Tim, naturally, turned it into a science experiment.

"If I optimize the dosage system, we can save time," he muttered, mixing a small batch into a bottle.

The result?

The bottle exploded.

Medicine splattered everywhere.

And Tim, now covered in a greenish-blue liquid, slowly blinked.

Jason fell to the ground, laughing again. "And thus, Dr. Frankenstein continues to terrorize the aviary."

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, he lowered his head. "Maybe... I didn’t need to make everything more efficient."

You sighed. "YES, TIM. MAYBE YOU DIDN’T."

Damian – The Overly Serious Falcon Trainer

Damian took on the task of handling the falcons. This should have been the least chaotic.

Except he was staring at the birds way too seriously, silently trying to train them.

"We will work together," he declared, locking eyes with a small falcon. "You and I will be Gotham’s greatest duo."

Tim snorted. "Damian, that bird probably just wants food."

Damian lifted his chin proudly. "He has great potential."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I know a bird with great potential. Its name is KFC."

Damian shot him a death glare.

Jason shrugged. "What? Just a joke."

At that moment, the small falcon grabbed onto Damian’s cape with its beak.

And Damian lost his balance and fell.

Everyone went silent.

Then Jason collapsed in laughter again.

Bruce – The Dark Knight vs. A Tiny Sparrow

And then, it was Bruce’s turn.

All he had to do was return a tiny, harmless sparrow to its cage.

Simple, right?

Wrong.

Because the sparrow escaped.

And flew straight into Bruce’s collar.

And that’s how Gotham’s most terrifying man ended up wrestling with a tiny bird trying to get into his shirt.

"...This was not part of the plan," he said, stone-faced.

Jason wheezed. "BATMAN LOST TO A SPARROW!"

Tim was in tears. Dick was on the floor. Damian had buried his face in his hands, mortified.

You buried your head in your hands.

"...We are never doing this again."

But deep down, you had to admit—you kind of enjoyed the chaos.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @welpthisisboring @lilyalone @maria-trisha