#and I doubt the doctors would even get me in quick

[mraprilfools]

Summary: As Vox's personal Physician it's always been a challenge to get him to take care of himself. Your motives originally may have been professional, but the line started to blend somewhere along the way. Now you're determined to get him to listen.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Vox

Contents: Mostly self-indulgent fluff. Bashful Vox, Doctor Reader, Assertive Reader, Reader has Glasses, Kissing, Lots of Flirting and Banter, Vox is a dork, Vox has freckles he hides

Word Count: 8k

A/N: Dedicated to @6esiree for her Follower contest! Please accept my humble Vox fluff. As for my followers, keep an eye out for tomorrow's Imagine for a very special message from The Heart of a Machine's Vox!

“You need to cut down on your caffeine consumption. Not only are you hopelessly addicted, but your quality of sleep is suffering as a result.” The tests had been taken again, and again, and again at your boss’ request. As a professional, you had standards. You weren’t going to let something as stubborn masculine machismo bother you. But the results on your medical chart had been almost completely static. The metallic nub of your pen rapped against the clipboard over the offending results that kept staring you back in the face.

Vox was hunched over on the examination table, refusing to face you. Already slipping on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I didn’t say that the examination was over sir.” You reminded him, pressing up the glasses hanging on the bridge of your nose.

The artificial glow of that screen finally turned to greet you. The artificial smile he had was so kind to constantly parade in your presence, as obnoxious as always. “I am well aware, but I am saying it’s over. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

A challenge to your ability. A bold one too. There were few doctors knowledgeable enough in both machinery and biology. Fewer fanatical enough to learn the harmonious weaving inside your employer so you found the accusation funny. All but a single, “Ha” came out in a scoff.

Sparks of electricity crackled from Vox’s antennae, and the large crimson pools narrowed into squints. “And what’s so funny Doc?”

“You are Darling. If you wanted to get rid of me, we both know you would have long ago.” You curled your lips in a smirk, a clear defiance of your boss. With only half of his buttons slipped through, he gave up on the rest and rose to his feet. Long legs made quick strides over to you to make a direct challenge. Even when he stood nearly a foot over you, you didn’t feel intimidated in the least. You dropped the clipboard over to the counter, meeting his gaze defiantly, but cooly.

A foot stepped between your legs, and his body came close. You took a step back only for the sake of your balance, then another until he had your back against a wall. His hands pinned you in place while the eerie glow of his screen only grew more intense. There was a false cheer in Vox’s voice even as his smile never dropped.

“You’re cute, Doc. You’ve made yourself valuable, so you’re right. I give you a lot more slack than I would tolerate from anyone else in this worthless shit heap. However…” He pried one hand free to clap around your jaw. Holding you in place when the bladed end of his thumb pressed against your cheek, drawing a bead of blood from the pinpoint. A directed threat, no doubt to remind you that he could kill you at any time.

But he hasn’t.

“More people are falling to hell every day, you won’t be so unique forever.”

“So you admit that I’m one of the few who do know what they’re doing. So, can I count on you cutting down your coffee consumption down to three cups a day?”

His chest rose and fell as the energy left him. Vox pulled his hand away and returned to fixing up the buttons on his shirt. Turning his back to you to fetch the sweater vest thrown over the table, slipping it on next. A zipper on the side turned out to be the secret around putting on clothes when your head was a large television. Having a tailor right in the tower must be quite useful. “I can do the coffee. However, I don’t have time to sleep the full six hours you are recommending.”

“Daily.” You remind him.

He spun back around, uttering a scoff as his hands slipped through each sleeve of his blazer. The pointed cyan claws slid across the lapels. “Daily?! Now you’re just being ridiculous Doc.”

“Have I been known to tell you jokes, Vox?” You lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually. You make jokes about how stupid half of my employees are all the time. The other half you have creative insults about how brutish, boring, or pathetic they are. I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone in the tower...” Vox raised both his brows, sporting that smarmy little grin.

“Because I don’t, save a few exceptions.” You answered. “I’m not paid to like people. I’m paid to keep you healthy.” You pushed off the wall, seating yourself in the single office chair that had been afforded for the office. The leather squeaked with the new weight, wheels shifting from the sudden weight that had you barreling toward your coffee cup. You draped one leg over the other, pressing your back against the chair while you gave your boss your undivided attention.

The cyan eyes rolled within the crimson pools. At last, his bow tie was tied around his neck perfecting the image of the business CEO. Almost a shame how quick he always was to put his clothes back on. The technological and biological nature of his body was a near obsession of yours; even if you never admitted it.

“Is the friendship-making package extra?”

You raised your shoulders in answer. You hooked your fingers around the mug on the desk with your cup of coffee. The irony of it after telling him to cut his consumption didn’t bother you. “Do you want me to make friends Vox? I don’t see how that would benefit you at all.”

“It won’t.” He admitted as he walked by. The chair was sent backward as his claws laid hands on it, forcing you to make eye contact when he lingered from behind. “Only wondering how much I pay you goes into pretending to like me.”

You couldn’t help but break out into more laughter. The sight of which earned a sultry frown and a retraction of the hand that had come so close to him. You caught your glasses, preventing them from careening off your face. “You don’t pay me anything for that sir, you’re one of the few people in hell I do like.”

“You have a weird way of showing it… telling me to take care of myself.” He chuffed, shooting a nasty glare at the coffee in your hands. Unaffected, you took a sip. He could cope.

“I know, I’m a trailblazer. Do you need me to prescribe you sleeping pills or do you think you can handle it?”

Vox laughed, “Doctor, please! I can do something as simple as fall asleep! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Even if you couldn’t see it, you could almost feel that eye roll looking at the back of his head. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with that curt goodbye.

Vox, however, never listened to his doctor. Even IF you were always right. It was a hunch as you were finishing up writing up samples for the night. But the thought came to mind to check on your boss to see if he was heeding your well-intentioned advice. Your employee keycard gave you generous access, only beneath the Vee’s who could go everywhere. So it wasn’t any trouble stopping by that ridiculous office of his.

He was seated before a mural of monitors depicting snapshots of the lives all across Pentagram City. Wires were currently plugged into the back of Vox’s head, absorbed in his… information-gathering activities. Vox was completely unaware of your presence. You breathed a heavy sigh, resigning to the fact that you once again had to get this man to take care of himself. You passed through the bridge without fear, where the circling shark tanks beneath spoke of a deadly fall several floors down. Such a waste of space for an aesthetic. Your polished shoes smacked into the back of the chair, startling the Overlord within.

Arcs of electricity shot out from all angles. Coating the chair and his body as the wires all unplugged from their ports one by one and the frantic man spun around with an intense swirl in his right eye. The claws extended, drawing gouges in the rests beside him. All the fight in him sputtered out the instant he caught sight of you, painted over with annoyance.

“Doc! I did not call for you. What are you doing here?”

With your arms folded across your chest, you answered. “Coming to catch you red-handed. You should be sleeping.”

“Shouldn’t you?” He fired back, hunching low.

Touche, but you wouldn’t admit it. You pushed up the frame of your glasses before you answered.

“It’s not my fault the help I have in the lab is so incompetent. I can’t trust them to do something as simple as label specimens. It would be a terrible safety risk if I left it to them. If anything, I am a hero of Voxtek.”

Vox laughed, leaning back into his chair. It was genuine laughter, unlike that dorky evil cackle he thought nobody ever heard when he was alone. A palm smacked his thigh, with a crooked grin sliding heavy to the right of his screen. “Sounds like we’re both guilty, Doctor. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Tell who exactly?” You asked, striding up to the man. You sat on one of his thighs spread so wide it was practically an invitation. The overlord stiffened, digging his claws back into the plastic armrest, staring a hole at you. “What darling? There aren’t any other chairs and you wouldn’t have me stand the whole time would you?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to try and seduce me.” He answered.

“Ah? And why do you think I am trying to seduce you?” You sent the question back to him, easing until your back pressed against the rest. You threw one leg over the other, balancing yourself by clutching the armrest. Your fingers only brushed against the cyan claws and he instantly yanked them out of reach.

“Oh, do you sit in any man’s lap then? And here I thought I was special.”

“I don’t like most people, Vox. You are special.”

Unexpectedly, the words brought a strange light blue glow to Vox’s face. He was just as shocked as you were, throwing an arm to cover the strange color in his face. There was an attempt to hide it as his face turned away, but he didn’t throw you off so you took that as a victory.

“What do you want?”

“For you to go to bed darling, that should be obvious.”

When he lowered the arm, you could see a deep frown on his display. The technicolor eyes bore into yours, locking you in eye contact trying to force the truth from you. A common tactic as most couldn’t lie while maintaining eye contact. But you were telling the truth so you made yourself comfortable admiring the view until the silence made him give up. With a sigh, he put his hand on your back and forced you back to your feet.

“Alright, I’ll go to bed, Doctor.” Vox shoved you off, forcing you back to your feet. He refused to even touch you, only lurching forward until you were forced to either catch yourself or fall. With a low grumble, you fixed your coat, keeping well away from the ledge.

Vox took two steps toward the bridge when he stopped and turned to look at you. “Do you flirt with all your patients?”

“Well darling, considering that you are my only patient? Yes.”

Vox chuffed, hooking a thumb forcefully into his pocket. The back of the TV greeted you, shoulders rolling as he weighed your answer. “And before I hired you, how many of your patients did you hit on?”

A single digit tapped your chin, which meant thinking back to something that hardly mattered. How often you satisfy your urges shouldn’t matter to your boss. But for the sake of this flirting to keep going you obliged. “Only the hot ones darling. I jump the bones of the ones I want nothing to do with besides their dick. But I take my time with the ones I really like.”

More electricity danced from his antennae. To busy his hands, Vox tugged and pulled at his bowtie. There was a joyful lilt in his tone as he answered, “Interesting. Good night Doctor.”

“Good night, Vox.” You followed right behind him, smiling with satisfaction. You felt happy that you finally got him to see reason, even if it meant flirting a little.

Or so you thought.

The next day, you decided to make another visit to his office to check if he went to bed on time. He was still plugged into the system, in the early hours of the morning. A little more flirting and back and forth was just as effective.

And the next day. There he was far more cold, not passing the buck back to you. But when you tried to excuse yourself, he’d find some excuse to make you stay for a minute or two longer.

And the next day too! Each time conning you into spending a little extra time with him. At first, it was only fifteen minutes. Then half an hour, and then you ended up lingering for a WHOLE hour. That was when you realized that if this got any worse, YOUR work would suffer.

Now that? That was unforgivable.

At this point, you suspected he was doing this on purpose. When you came charging down the bridge that evening, he was already spinning in place to greet you. You were expected. The bastard. The plugs in the back of his head popped free. Vox spun around in time to greet you with a wide smirk on his screen that faltered when his chair ended up swerving a little too far to the right. A heel smacked against the floor, giving him friction to push him back.

“You saw nothing,” Vox said.

“Pretty sure I did, you are up late. Again.”

“I slept yesterday. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Vox bent forward in his chair, looking smug. He was intentionally trying to rile you up now. You didn’t even attempt to hide your sigh. You glanced over to the monitors, still the same old surveillance for the most part. But there was one screen that stood out. The man was on Veddit. You adjusted your glasses to get a better look. Upon closer look, it was some subveddit asking advice about how to tell when somebody has a crush on you.

He was so pathetic it was endearing sometimes. His eyes followed yours, doing a double take when he noticed what you were looking at and smacked the console turning all the monitors off. Vox’s voice came out filtered as he attempted to sound assertive. “That’s classified company information. Nothing you are meant to be privy to Doctor. I’ll have to fire you if you keep looking.”

“I didn’t know relationship advice was sensitive company data. Are you having trouble with men, Vox?”

A faint blue light covered Vox’s screen beneath his eyes, his cyan pupils unable to meet you. Teeth clenched, his fingers rapped loudly against the armrests of his chair. You kept silent, watching him stew under the uncomfortable silence. His knee began to bounce, his fingertips clacking against the hard plastic until at last he groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I could have anyone I wanted in Pentagram City in my bed by the end of tomorrow night if I wanted.”

Laughter spilled before you could help it. The sound inspired a swirl from his right eye, and another tense clutch of his claws gouging his chair. “What’s so funny?”

“You darling. You’re adorable.”

The color on his face grew more intense, as did his frown. He made some incoherent mumbling you couldn’t quite understand, but you were pretty sure at least one of those was an insult.

“How about a bet then, Darling? Whoever can bring a new partner into their bed first wins? If I win, you promise to go to bed no later than 1 AM. And if you win…” You sucked through your teeth, watching as his screen grew even more pale. A cyan claw nervously wove around the bow tie on his neck.

“If I win, you’re all mine for an evening,” Vox interjected.

Now there was a surprise, so he could take the lead. The man was already pushing himself up to his feet, stretching his back as he rose to his full height. “It’s about time I remind you who you work for.” Now he was compensating, with that blustering smile and the way he pulled on his lapels.

“Then it is settled! You can have an entire evening to see if you can make me as obedient as the rest of your employees.” You agreed. Unknown to Vox, you already had a plan that secured your victory. But you let him stew in the joy of his deal a little longer. The way his smile took up half his screen was endearing.

A pointed end met your chin as he forced you to look at him, the harsh artificial light shining a little too close for comfort. “I’ll make you sing for me, Doc. Though you are right… I’d almost miss your backbone. Almost.”

The screen was coming in close, dangerously so. With nowhere to go with that claw currently suck in your chin, you brushed away the mood with a question. “Would my magnanimous boss be willing to walk me home? Things have been rather dangerous in my neighborhood lately.”

Suspicion immediately colored his expression, with arcs of lightning dancing along his frame. Vox whipped his hand away, standing ramrod straight. “Didn’t you want me to go to bed? Trying to get a head start on me Doc?”

You coyly tilted your head. “No? If you’re that worried about that I can get somebody else to walk me. I’m pretty sure I could easily get Papermint to--”

A metallic claw smacked your shoulder, pointed ends digging into your flesh as a strained smile greeted you. Vox’s laughter came out deeply filtered. “That won’t be necessary! That man couldn’t defend you from a paper bag. I’ll be winning our little wager before the night ends, as I said. So I’ll gladly see you home and asleep while I take my victory.”

The pinprick stung, but it was a kind of pain that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand laid over his, feeling the cool skin beneath for only a second before he yanked it away.

That was now the second time he yanked his hand from yours. Curious.

“Not if you are sleep-deprived, Vox. Come on then, it’s a bit of a walk through a bad neighborhood so I hope you aren’t too fond of your shoes.” You spun around first, taking the lead down the bridge. The larger overlord quickly strode over to catch up to you, refusing to let you guide him. Hands behind his back, he continued to stare at you from the corner of his screen, and he was terribly obvious.

“What is it darling?” You asked.

“...Can you stop calling me that?”

“What, darling?”

There was an uneasy shifting as he pushed out his pockets. The electronic door hissed open when the two of you approached by the proximity of the Overlord alone. The two of you took a turn down the hallways, empty and feeling almost haunted at these early hours.

“Yes.”

By how short the answer was, you suspected he wasn’t going to give you a reason why. As confident and blustering the man could be, there were always these little nuggets of insecurity that oozed. He was overcompensating. For most people, they wouldn’t bother to look any deeper. People were far more inclined to see what they wanted to see or to ignore anything that would be far too bothersome to address. A fact Vox relied on far too much.

Because you took an undeniable interest in this man. You knew his body better than anyone as his doctor. Knew how his heart was nothing but to ease his body dysmorphia. How he regulated his heat, how viruses affected his body, and how a simple cold could still lay him low. Initially, you wanted nothing more than to tear him open and learn everything but lately… you wanted to solve the riddle behind the little things. Such as why he wouldn’t let you touch his hand. Or why his screen always got a little brighter when you entered the room.

But if you pushed somebody too hard who didn��t want to be known, you risked pushing them away. This would require a delicate touch.

“Very well, I will have to call you something special then.”

There was another flash of static as Vox pushed the call elevator button. The repeated shifting of his cyan irises was so obvious you had to hide your smile underneath your palm pretending to hide a cough.

“Like what? Voxxy?”

“Voxxy is cute...” You admitted with a shrug, “But that’s not special. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of exes call you that.”

Fragmentation flashed over this screen at that moment, the crimson pools almost comically large in his screen. The ding of the elevator was his saving grace, striding in quickly to save face. “I’ll let you know if you pick something unique then.”

Unique. Most people would likely pick something with his name or his head. Picture Box, Plasma, Sparky. In the silence of the elevator, you leaned against the wall and considered it. A nickname for you alone to call him. Vox joined you. Leaning against the wall almost close enough to touch but you knew better than to reach out and chance him pulling his hand away a third time.

“Dove.”You suggested.

“That’s… uh--” Vox let out a breathy chuckle. “Quite an old-fashioned nickname don’t you think? I think people stopped using that decades ago.”

“Do you dislike it…?”

Claws settled on the rail behind him, clicking against the bare metal. Each metallic noise sent shivers up your spine, seeing them so close but out of reach.

“I don’t dislike it, no. I’m not quite so nostalgic as half of Hell seems to be, but I can appreciate the effort.” The rare gentle smile on his screen was a sort you’d never seen before. Not the fabricated nonsense to disarm viewers or the manic joy when he was doing something comically evil.

Ping

The elevator came to a sudden halt as it hit the first floor. You stepped out first, with your boss lagging shortly behind. Thanks to how early in the morning it was, the two of you weren’t especially bothered by employees or gawking pedestrians. Hell in the early evenings was often when you could find the worst of it. Drunkards, people stabbed in the middle of the streets, demons locked in heat fucking in any half-discreet location they could find. It was a place of sin and debauchery and everyone happily indulged. Vox was a wary individual you learned from watching him.

Despite being one of the most powerful men in the Pride Ring he constantly watched the streets looking for threats. Occasionally he would catch you looking at him, blush, and look away. After the third or fourth time, he scoffed and tugged on his collar.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that? Actually- WHY are you flirting with me so blatantly? Are you trying to get a promotion?”

“Can I be promoted from your personal physician?”

“No.”

“Then the only reason is because I like you.”

There was a question of why, obvious by the way he looked at you full of confusion. “I… wasn’t expecting such an honest answer.”

You laughed. “This is hell Dove, there’s nothing to be gained by being shy. Somebody else might try to sink their claws into you first and I don’t like to lose.”

“Your wager seems counter-intuitive to your goal.” Vox rolled his eyes. Yet at the same time, he was reaching out to you. His claws bumped against your fingertips for only a fraction of a second. They were cold and sharp to the touch, but having conquered the wall put a pep in your step.

“On the contrary, I believe it’s proven quite effective. You are taking me home so another man doesn’t.”

“I-Wait, were you manipulating me?!”

You laughed again, hiding your great smile behind your hand. “I was! But you manipulate all of hell daily so I think you’ve lost all right to hold that against me.”

Vox stopped, narrowing his great big eyes. “I could leave right now, or did you account for that in your plan too?”

“Mmn, no I had planned to drag you into my bed tonight.”

A bright blue blush flashed over the man’s screen, his arm rising to try and hide it. Sparks and electricity danced between each prong. “I--! That’s not what we bet on!”

“No? The bed was to drag a new partner into our beds tonight. I’ve never been with you, so you count Dove.”

Still masking his face, Vox was now wavering, looking behind him as he tried to determine whether to foil your plot now or fall prey to it. Even this game of indecision was fun to watch. He sucked through his teeth, tapping his foot against the concrete.

“Doesn’t telling me your plan ruin your chances?”

“No, to my experience telling a man point blank you want them is far more effective than being shy about it. Am I wrong?” You flashed a smile full of teeth. “Of course, it also has a chance to backfire and make them so nervous they run. But I don’t believe you aren’t quite that timid.”

“Tch, hardly. Fine.” His claw clamped around your wrist. Cold, awkward, and grating against your bone it wasn’t quite what you imagined. You had a strong suspicion it was that exact reason that made him so hesitant to touch you before. He dragged you forward, but after you reached the end of the street he realized that he had no idea where he was taking you. When he looked at you for help, you laughed. As predicted, he sulked.

“Sorry, sorry! You are just so cute! We’re almost there. It’s that apartment over there.” You pointed straight ahead to a sleek modern apartment. It was one of the nicer buildings in the Entertainment district, one of Voxtek’s provided housing. The familiar V on the building clued Vox in.

The walk became closer to a power walk as he took you into your apartment. Having to at least concede to let you lead to take him to your apartment on the third floor, fourth door down the hall. He was deathly silent watching you unlock the door, following behind you as quietly as a mouse inside. That same nervous jitters returned to the usually powerful and confident CEO as he found himself in a strange apartment that wasn’t his own. Perhaps he expected you to jump his bones immediately but you instead took off your shoes, and lab coat, and made your way inside.

“Would you like tea, Dove? Sleepy-time tea ought to help you fall asleep.”

“Fall… asleep?” Vox asked. All the wind in his sails had fluttered out, baffled by the turn of events.

“Yes darling, what did you think I was taking you to my bed for? You are up past your bedtime.” You didn’t even attempt to hide the smug smile on your face, so instead you focused on filling a kettle and setting it on the stove.

“I--- You tricked me!”

“Indeed I did. Are you upset?”

To your surprise, he wasn't. He was deathly silent, standing in the hallway lost, unsure of what was going on. A claw hooked around his bow tie, untying it to make himself comfortable. Next came off the blazer, and then the top hat left on the coat rack by the door. Normally meant only to contain your coat, it added a touch of domesticity to see your coat have a partner. The blue and white looked nice. Could only hope the two of you would meld just as harmoniously. Vox sat down at your dining room table, taking a look around your abode.

“I’ve never been dragged into somebody's place to only sleep with them before. You’re… an odd one Doc.”

“I’ve been told.” You answered in a sing-song tone, preparing the tea cups. A packet of sleepy-time tea tucked into each porcelain cup with saucers meant to carry a touch of your personality. “I like you too much to bed you this early.”

“I-- don’t get that. If you like me, doesn’t that mean I’d already be inside you, fucking you on your kitchen counter?” Vox scoffed, rapping his nails against the table. The kettle hissed with steam when the water was ready. After laying down the teacups and saucers you popped the kettle off the stove and poured into each cup. Joining your boss from the chair directly across from him.

“Come now, isn’t that how courtship used to work? A man would get to know a woman, and show her that he really liked her for her and not just her body. It’s like that Dove. Now, I would love to unwrap you but I’m more curious to know the man you are. Like-- why don’t you like it when I touch your hand?”

Vox twitched, pulling his hand immediately off the table, suddenly self-conscious. “Who said I don’t like you touching my hand sweetheart?” He forced that fake smile of his, taking a friendly artificial tone.

“Because you keep pulling it away whenever I touch it.”

The smile fell, and his eyes fell toward the amber liquid in the cup. He lifted the cup, testing to see if it had enough time to steep. It had not even been a minute, so all he tasted was hot water. He set the cup down, feeling bitter. “What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Then you don’t have to. But I want to know.”

The chair skid back, with your boss leaning forward. “Let’s… forget this getting-to-know-me bullshit Sweetheart. It’s stupid, this is hell. I can fuck you until your eyes roll into the back of your head and forget this whimsy of yours Doc. You're my employee. Nothing more.”

You set your chin on the nest of your overlaid hands, matching his eyes. You pushed a little too hard. “No, you’re getting your sleep whether you like it or not. If we have to sit here in silence, I’m making sure you get the sleep you need, Vox.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. Waiting three minutes for tea to steep felt like an eternity to him. “A secret for a secret Doc. I’ll tell you why, but in return, you need to tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” An accusatory finger jut your way.

“Do you want to get to know me too, Dove?” Unafraid, you coyly tilted your head. Vox opened his mouth to respond, shut it, and turned his screen.

“...Yes. I’ve never had somebody care this much for my health or try to get to know me. You’re weird, but not in a… bad way I guess. I’m not saying-- you’ll ever be more to me than an employee-- don’t get the wrong idea.” He quickly interjected his point. But the shuffling in his chair and the way he weighed his words so heavily you were liking your chances. “But I like talking to you Doc.”

“Well...” You began, skidding your foot against the floor. “I was once madly and deeply in love with a man before. I was utterly, completely besotted in a way I bet you never would have expected. I wrote and sang him poetry. Spent many evenings dancing with him by candlelight, and had disgustingly kinky sex in public spaces. But my favorites were always the nights when he’d be gentle with me like I was the most precious thing in all worlds.”

Vox’s mouth hung open and then shut. A fresh shade of color danced across his screen at the bold confession “You’re… right. I have a hard time believing that. You’re the last person I imagined being a romantic.”

You sputtered a laugh. “Right? I was surprised too. Have you ever been in love like that before?”

“I’m not answering that question.” He immediately shut you down. “I don’t like you touching my hands because… most people are scared of them. They hurt, they’re cold, they aren’t nice to hold at all. They’re great, don’t get me wrong! When I need to get people in line they’re a fantastic tool for intimidation. But well, we’re demons. I’m not… built for intimacy. Inside or out.” Voxmotioned over his body with the aforementioned hands.

“They’re beautiful hands though, Vox. When you grabbed my wrist it hurt a little but it wasn’t a bad pain. They’re more than worth it for you.”

The familiar blush returned, coming with such a vengeance you swore you saw some white pixels mixed in within the blush. Like a nebula reflected on his screen, little imperfections that made him look endlessly beautiful. “Noted. So, what happened to that guy? You wouldn’t be bothering with me if he was still in your life.”

“We were… incompatible. There’s a piece of me that’s broken beyond repair inside that made me fundamentally wrong for him. It wasn’t his fault or mine. Closer to mine I suppose, since I cannot quiet the demon inside me that threatens to tear my guts out raw from envy.” The memory came bitterly, mostly because it came with a realization that even for the man you loved most you couldn’t be fixed.

A cyan claw hooked through the handle, with Vox sipping his tea. He had grown deathly silent, draining the cup until it was down to its dregs all in one. It hit the saucer with a clatter. “You should drink your tea doctor.”

Silently you obliged, taking more reserved sips. Truthfully you didn’t need it as much as he did. Habit and a circadian rhythm did wonders in getting your body trained for sleep. But for the sake of calming your nerves, taking this man to your bed where you would not take his clothes off felt oddly more intimate than taking them off. The heel of his shoes clicked multiple times against the floor, Vox was completely incapable of sitting still. At one point he even got up, walking around your apartment.

“Doc? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Back near the entrance Dove. To your right.”

“Thank you.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You could hear the faucet running shortly after. While he took care of his business you finished your tea and washed the dishes. He was already out by the time you put the kettle in the sink.

“So, do you have anything for me to sleep in?”

“Mmm, I have a shirt of my exes if that works that should fit you. But I don’t have any bottoms. You’ll be fine in your underwear won’t you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine to sleep naked. As long as that shirt doesn’t have you know whose face on it.”

“Of course not Dove, I would not tolerate merchandise of anyone who believes technology should have stopped in the thirties. That goes against everything I believe in.” You flippantly waved your hand as if you could hardly entertain the idea. To your surprise, Vox’s screen illuminated with light, with a big genuine toothy smile on his face.

“I changed my mind, I might be able to make an exception for you.”

“Of course Vox, it was only a matter of time before you saw my charm! Now… come on.”

Even if you were a Doctor who didn’t need a man or woman, you loved having a large bed to lounge in taking up nearly your entire room. You had your knick-knacks and other decorative items. A bookshelf of medical textbooks lined against the back of the bed for those late nights reading. Laundry piled up a little higher than you would have liked when you were bringing a boy over. A disturbing little skeleton you named Mr. Bones sitting on your computer desk. Diagrams and telltale signs of countless nights hunched over a desk. Signs of the passion of whatever gripped your mind and forced quill to meet paper.

Vox was obvious in the way he took in the various objects in your bedroom. His interest in getting to know you seemed genuine. You fished out the old shirt from your ex, which was a harmless plain white buccaneer shirt. You could see the confusion on his face when he was handed it, but you said nothing.

You grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the master bathroom to change. Leaving Vox the whole bedroom to change. When you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, you could spy a faint color present on your cheeks. Sure, maybe you could act cool and confident. But the truth was, you did like this man. Otherwise, why else would you go to all this trouble for him?

All your feigned confidence but you took care that your hair looked nice when you brushed it. You picked out your favorite pair of pajamas. You brushed your teeth and put on only a little spritz of perfume, as your heart beat with anticipation and hope.

Vox was already laid out on top of the bed, waiting for you. His monitor raised to look at you when you opened the door, propping his body halfway up with his elbows. “Huh, you did simply change into your pajamas. Was half expecting you to change your mind and pick out something sexy.”

“We can save that for after you’ve taken me to dinner, Dove.” A laughter followed after your statement, a friendly one. You stepped over to your nightstand to hit the switch next to a strange black and white orb. Vox did arch a brow, but his gentle smile remained.

“I’ll think about it.” The overlord fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. That was perfect timing!

After you hit the light switch, the room was submerged in darkness. The purpose of the strange device on your nightstand became obvious when Vox spied the star system being projected over the ceiling. Creating a fabrication of the starry night sky that had been robbed from the two of you when death came. Vox’s right claw stretched out, reaching his hand out as if he could grasp the slowly rotating stars. The illumination of his screen slowly died until it became a dim pale blue light.

You crawled into bed opposite of him. Laying on your side with your arm tucked under the pillow to act as extra leverage while you watch the man beside you enjoy the sight above.

“You REALLY are a romantic. I’m expecting roses when you take me to dinner.” Vox joked.

“I’ll consider it. So, what makes you say that?”

“I may have had my hints when you told me you wanted to wait for sex. And oh I don’t know, The night light and nickname? You are aware of what Dove means right?”

Vox rolled onto his side, using the pillow as a gentle cushion for his screen. Normally looking right into a bright blue light wasn’t the best idea when you were trying to sleep. But the sight of that gentle smile on his face felt like it was going to lead you to some nice dreams. “Of course I do. And you were intentionally staying up late so I’d come and see you. I think you’re secretly a romantic too, Vox.”

The familiar blue flush dazzled his screen, something even pulling the blanket over to try and hide it couldn’t help with. The way his face glowed made the proof even more apparent when he only tried to mask it in darkness. “Nonsense. I’m just a machine.”

The statement came out in a half-whisper. By the way, his eyes widened at that moment, you suspected he had not meant to be that honest. A scowl took the place of his smile, and he fell back onto his back to hide his face from you. You didn’t let him run. You pushed yourself up and sat beside him, staring down at the screen that tried its best to watch the wavering astral movements above.

“You’re not a machine, Dove. And I would know that more than anyone, save yourself. Machines aren’t lonely for one.”

“I’m not lonely...” Vox bitterly retorted.

You stretched your hands out for his screen. He leaned back into the pillow, setting his cyan irises on you immediately. With your fingertips only inches apart, you met those eyes without moving an inch more.

“Do you not want me to touch you?”

“What good is touching me there? I can’t even feel it, you know.”

“Because it always makes me happy when somebody simply touches me without expectation of sex. Makes me feel beautiful.”

A complicated expression flashed over the screen. Alternating between vulnerability, a scowl, the widened sclera, and at last acceptance. His hand laid over yours and guided it to brush and trace over the hard plastic that housed his screen. The cool hand lingered on top of your palm, guiding your hand up toward where his prongs stuck out on top of his head. Following his lead your fingertips brushed along the metal prongs, then circled the receivers on the top.

“Maybe… I’m a little lonely.” He begrudgingly confessed.

Something cold suddenly brushed against your cheek, intense thanks to the heat that made a home there. The back of Vox’s claws brushed over your face, and you leaned into it. His palm filled the swell of your cheek, the harsh points nestled into the hair to cushion their prick. The thumb stretched out to tap your bottom lip, tracing the shape.

Slowly the two dark silhouettes you both cast on the wall came together melting into one. Vox guided you forward as his own body bent forward to meet you halfway. Shortly after you closed your eyes, the gentle sensation of his lips finally met yours. The edged fingers slid along the nape of your neck, sending chills down your spine while he held you. Entangling his fingers within your hair to hold you in place. Chaste and sweet, it was only a light brushing as he whispered to you.

“Your right doc… this is nice. I want to touch you more, may I?” Each little new syllable brought that ticklish feeling back, tingling with the natural static on his face. You sealed your lips against him, drinking deep from what he’d been teasing you with all this time.

“As long as the clothes stay on Dove.”

“Of course. This is nice… I don’t want it to end.” The confession came with the feel of his palm now brushing over your shoulder. Tracing down your arm until his fingers circled the wrist that had kept you supported all this time. He tugged you forward until your body fell on top of his. It was harder than the average man’s body and less cushy. The heat of your body was sapped even through the two layers of clothing, but it only gave him an excuse to wrap that blanket around the two of you.

You righted yourself until you laid flat across his body, with his arms coming around to circle your back. You buried your head into his chest, taking in his scent, wrapping your arms around his torso as you surrendered to his touch. The pointed end of one claw ran up and down your back, sending shivers down your body each time it came to meet the nape of your neck. It wasn’t a sexually thrilling sensation, but it was pleasant enough to eke out a moan. Instead of excitement, the man underneath you chuckled. Vox ran his claws through your hair instead, scratching your scalp.

“Why don’t you like to be called Darling?” You dared the question, feeling closer than ever now that the two of you were touching. The sound of his artificial heart beating against his chest and into your ear felt nothing like the machine he purported himself as. Nor was the careful way he touched you. You could feel its absence far more when his hands froze. You dared to look up, and you could see the heartbreak reflected in his eyes alone.

“It reminds me of somebody else, a man I’d rather not think of when I’m with you Doc.”

“I’d never want you to look like that when you think of me… so I will endeavor to be nothing like him, Dove.”

Vox smiled, curling a claw around a lock of your hair to brush out of your face. “And even if you are broken, I will make you feel whole one day Doc.”

Now that was unfair. How dare the vulnerability you share with him be used against you! You fought back the emotions that welled up, the brush of his hands bringing you back down against his chest made you feel like it’d be alright.

“We should get some sleep. But I want to keep holding you if that’s O.K.”

You leaned forward, kissing him goodnight. Vox kept you there for a moment longer, squeezing your shoulder. The other hand pressed against the arch of your back to press your body against his. Each little brush of those lips against yours felt addicting. Making you want to keep diving in back for more. Sometimes it was crooked, other times he’d steal your breath and keep you there. It was only the need for air that forced you two to part. A flushed face stared back at you with the beautiful nebula of freckles returned in full force.

You didn’t want to part, much as the sirens call for sleep called for you. You pressed your fingertips against his screen right beneath his eyes. Tracing each little freckle to make constellations with them. Vox closed his eyes, accepting your touch this time. The gentle wavering of his cyan irises watching you stole your breath. If only you could stay up all night and kiss each little star on his face.

But all good things had to come to an end. Vox pressed against your shoulders to force you to lie down. His own body came hovering over yours for a brief few beautiful moments, the starry sky above him framing behind him.

“You’re blushing so hard right now, Doc.”

A squeak escaped you, pressing a hand against your now hot cheeks. Gentle laughter broke out from the man above.

“You’re so cute… I can’t wait to see how red you get when I bed you for real.” The whisper of that promise came with a claw tracing along your jawline.

“When…? You sound so certain.” The blood rushing to your head made it hard to come up with a snappier comeback than that.

“Because I have already decided. I intend to win you over with everything I have. Goodnight, Doc.”

He fell back back onto the bed, lying on his side. Immediately wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer until your back was held flush against his front. Vox locked you tight so you couldn’t escape, the warm screen pressed into the back of your head.

“Goodnight Vox...”

Cursed with those beautiful thoughts Vox put in your head, your cheeks burned. The bittersweet pain in your heart gave you such contentment you were quickly pulled down past the point of no return. The gentle whir of Vox’s white noise banished the chaos of hell, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

I’ve been having sinus pain on the right side of my face for days now and I am ANGRY

[lazywriters-blog]

A PINCH OF HATE

AVENTURINE x FEMALE!READER + DR. RATIO

Summary: Just Aventurine being a little brat and poking fun at Ratio- trying to make him jealous and showing off, and trying his best to spite Dr. Ratio. After all, the doctor might have feelings for his darling as well. [This is a little silly lol but I tried.]

Warning: Possessiveness, angst? Jealousy. Overall a lot of touching from Aventurine, he's lowkey obsessed.

"Perhaps you should learn from your companion a bit of self-restraint, gambler."

"Whatever do you mean doctor, I'm plenty patient." Aventurine ever the smug, slippery little guy grins and purs out a retort, she was hoping his grip on her waist would loosen and drift away but that hasn't happened yet and it's making her uneasy.

"Oh! Do you find her fascinating perhaps? Taken a liking to my darling, now that won't do." he giggled to himself, and if she hadn't been forced to stay with him for an entire week, she wouldn't have noticed his slight change in tone.

"Don't be ridiculous, I find her qualities to be much more preferable than yours."

"Sheesh, it almost sounds like you're after my darling here, doctor." Dr. Ratio ignored the blonde and turned his attention to her, asking, "Why do you stick around with idiots? You should have better places to be than here."

"Umm... I-" Aventurine pulled her close to his body and pouted, "I suppose we are idiots in love, doctor."

She couldn't tell him what happened for her to end up miserably hopeless beside Aventurine, or if she could even get a chance.

'Do you like him or do you not?' She was cornered one afternoon. During that time she began regretting stepping out of her office, Aventurine was just outside waiting for her and she didn't know what he had in mind. 'where's this coming from?' she tried to pry in-between them some space, nervously smiling and looking to her right but he kept nearing her with a smug smile.

'Come on, we are friends... Right? Don't friends share their secrets?' she hadn't considered him a close friend, though she did enjoy his company.

'I mean he considers me to be much inferior to him... Probably, I'm likely too dumb to be with a genius.'

'Ah~ I didn't mention who 'he' was.'

She playfully pushed him back and shyly looked down, 'You and your stupid mind games.'

'Let's make a bet.' He grinned, and she groaned. Though she did win some of his bets, it remained difficult. 'Not this one again.' she took a step back.

'Come on don't be like that~ it will be fun.' She sighed and he took it as his cue to carry on. He took long strides towards her and smiled wide.

'Go on a date with me or...' he leaned into her ear, breathing out the last of his wager, 'stop liking him.'

He was testing her, making good use of her feelings and manifesting everything in his favor, though she wasn't surprised. Aventurine was always one step ahead and she was an idiot.

She likely didn't stand a chance against him. Whatever he had planned for them both, she doubted he would consider her livelihood. Aventurine can be selfish with the things he wants, she's realized that.

Aventurine took his time rubbing salt into Dr. Ratio's unseen wound, slyly smirking and giving her a quick kiss on her lip and clearly, it left her bewildered.

Was that her first lip-to-lip contact?

"Ugh-" Dr. Ratio released a disgusted noise and clutched his book closer to his chest, "take your lovey-dovey display somewhere else." Aventurine let out a haughty laugh and grinned, "Shouldn't you be saying how wonderful of a couple we are? Are you jealous of me Doctor?"

"With you being a shameless gambler and her a decent lady, I don't find anything much appealing."

Aventurine faked a sad sigh and looked at her, "Don't mind him, he's being salty he hasn't acquired a beautiful maiden like yourself." he kissed her cheek and she was tempted to say she didn't mind him, at all but decided to remain silent. "Let's go select some of the rings I've prepared for you!" he leaned back a little and gently stirred her around to the exit with his hand still holding onto her hip.

"What? Surely you aren't thinking of involving her in your cunning schemes and putting her in grave danger. Or perhaps you've lost your mind." That made Aventurine stop and she took a peek at his face, he wasn't showing any emotion but she could sense some spitefulness.

Eventually, Aventurine turned his face and grinned back at Dr. Ratio, "You shouldn't care about what belongs to me, doctor."

She didn't get to see what expression Ratio had wore as Aventurine was quick on his feet and quickly dragged her along with him. She let him sit beside her during the ride back to his place, and though she had meant to keep her lips sealed and tucked tight, curiosity had begun to gnaw away her peace.

So she asked, "Does he like me too?" if it were anybody else, anybody like Dr. Ratio she would be given a scowl and a complicated response of yes and no, but this was Aventurine and he would have known something she didn't beforehand.

His hand gently touched her knee, and he gave her his signature smile, "Oh, it seems like the doctor isn't very good at being subtle, but I digress, as a potential partner doctor would be horrible and it would be a nightmare for both parties. So it shouldn't matter whether he liked you or not."

"Right." She didn't know how to respond and it wasn't like she was hoping for the doctor to return her feelings or share her sentiment.

Aventurine turned towards her and smiled, "Moving on, I think we should wear a matching pair of attire tomorrow, so let's go shopping!"

She nodded, she couldn't lie she was enjoying the attention Aventurine was showering her with.

[gay-dorito-dust]

haii! :33

can i request boothill and argenti (seperately) with a shy gn!reader who gets flustered easily? whether it would be through words, physical touch or stuff like that

thank youu!! ^_^

Jing yuan:

Smug bastard.

Acts like he wasn’t the reason you were flustered to the high heavens from brushing his hand across your waist.

‘Are you alright my dear?’ He’d say, faking innocence as he intentionally held your face in his hands, softly caressing your cheeks as he felt them gradually grow warmer with every stroke of his thumbs. ‘You’re feeling rather warm here, should I get you to a doctor?’ He adds with a knowing smile.

‘N-no. I’m fine.’ You’d say, unable to form actual thoughts as your mind was heavily focused on a plethora of things, from the way that his hands held your face as though it were porcelain, to the way he caresses your skin felt like kisses in their own right.

The acclaimed dozing general raised an eyebrow as his smile only grew more mischievous. ‘Are you sure? You’re really heating up my dear, I wouldn’t want you to faint on me now,’ he then leaned in close, chuckling upon hearing you gasp a the close proximity, whispering. ‘Unless that’s your intention.’

Jing Yuan thoroughly enjoyed being the reason you were flustered and found your reactions addictive, so much that he would start doing things where he got to see that reaction as much as possible.

Touching your hand

Brushing shoulders

Sitting really close to you/ ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you, etc.

However if you were to ever express that you wanted him to stop, he will as he understands that you might not want to be made to fluster all the time. He’s not a dickhead and respects you greatly for giving him the ability to start living life again.

Argenti:

This man speaks from the bottom of his heart, there’s not a single lie to be found in his words, and it was due to that undeniable truthfulness that left you more flustered then not.

‘I only speak the truth my beloved rose.’ He says softly as he held your hands in his own all the while maintaining eye contact, which didn’t help you in any way shape or form as you felt your face practically burst into flames and your heart going at a mile an hour the longer you stay in close proximity to him.

He smelt of roses and chivalry, which was odd as you didn’t think chivalry could have a smell, but with Arenti anything was seemingly possible.

‘You are the beauty that I’ve been seeking and now that I have you, I have no doubt that I will love you for eternity should it be allowed of me.’

Boom, you’re dead and on the floor as you stare up at the ceiling as Argenti was quick to move to kneel at your side, face full of concern as his face hovers over you all the while his hair acted as ruby red curtains, forcing you to solely focus on his extremely pretty face. He looked like an angel in that moment and you somehow still found it in you to get even more flustered upon gazing at his face.

He’s genuinely concerned about you whenever you got flustered, his heart and soul were just so pure that he wasn’t really clicking onto the fact that he was the reason you were constantly flustered.

‘My dear flower, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you somehow? Should I seek medical attention?’ - him.

‘No, I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes…or an hour.’ -you, flustered to the high heavens and embarrassment for making him worry.

Boothill:

Smug bastard 2.0

The moment you shown him how easily flustered you could get, it’s over for you as you’ve given Boothill ammunition to keep finding new ways to flustered you on the daily.

Your reactions were his drug and he’d gladly overdoes on them if he could but that might be going a bit too far, however he didn’t care because you being flustered from almost anything he did had become everything to him.

So he would nuzzle his cheek to yours.

Playfully nibbles on your earlobe, shoulder, neck, arms, lips and takes enjoyment in your squeals and attempts to get away from him, only to be pulled back in.

Kissing your lips constantly, even more so in public.

The teasing is never ending with Boothill.

He’s relentless, unyielding and extremely brutal in his teasings that you may as well be permanently flustered. However if you were to shyly give this gremlin a taste of his own medicine by boldly kissing his cheek, he’s suddenly silent and a little fluttered.

He just loves smothering you in love and will continue to do so as nothing else mattered to him in that moment more than you and the effects he had over you.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I don't kiss and tell

Little drabbles where creator!reader gets pregnant and the archons get into a witch hunt

Wc: ~600

Sumeru’s specialty tea is delicious, the lightest taste of anise and black tea with an array of spices that you couldn't even begin to pinpoint. The youngest archon besides you is talking your ear off about the origins and constitution of the tea, the exports it has and how it is different from the teas you tasted in Liyue. 

The only thing souring the atmosphere was the bickering and yelling voices from across the table

“Your dirty citizens are libertine enough to attempt to lie besides a god!” The electro archon points her finger at the anemo archon, her nose scrunched and her teeth bared

“Mine?! I doubt anyone would dare to! At most I imagine they wanted to be close friends!”

The tsaritsa rolls her eyes and mutters something along the lines of ‘very close friends it seems’

“You doubt? You don't sound too sure about that. I'm confident nobody from my nation would dare to make advances on them” zhongli blows on his cup and sips on it

“Didn't the trip get behind schedule around sumeru? I remember Neuvillette was stressed because the welcome had to be rearranged by a week” Furina grabs a piece of cake, playing with the cherry on top.

“ah?!” Nahida gasps as she is chatting with you. She taps her chin ”I can't remember a chance they had alone so I would say it's impossible”

“And why did the trip take an extra week? I was never truly sure about that” zhongli asks her 

“Oh, I was dead set on going to Aaru village and having a quick view to the pyramids” you chuckle a bit, seeing how nahida was upset at the accusations.

“Isn't it weird that Miss Furina is here too? Even if we named it archon meeting it's meant more as a head of state so I was expecting the great judge to be seated here” Raiden points that out

“E-eh?!” She gasps as she leans away from the purple piercing gaze “He was just unable to come so he asked me” 

“Isn't that convenient?”

The tsaritsa sighs and stops tapping her fingers on the wood table. Now looking at you she says “I'm sorry if it's too impolite but can't you cut us the chase and tell us who it was?”

You look away, a tiny strained laugh slipping through your teeth “I think I prefer his safety, thanks” 

“No, thank you”

“At the very least what nation is he from?” 

The next months there was special attention paid to particular carvings or newly acquired habits

“Isn't it curious how they are suddenly so in love with grape juice? Didn't your nation have a winemaker who preferred grape juice?” The tsaritsa asks, a stiff smile painted on her face.

“And didn't they also like a seafood soup that also happened to be one of your harbinger's specialties?” venti matches her energy, already fed up with the fourth accusation 

“Don't make me send someone to kick your ass again”

“I doubt a pile of ashes could put up much of a fight” 

“Our grace has been taking longer walks lately, buer, maybe they are trying to get closer to the dendro element” 

“they told me they wanted to feel the breeze better, that might be it, Beel”

“Why do I get dragged into every discussion?!” Venti yelps from the kitchen

“Doctor baizhu told me to keep an eye on them, the pregnancy seems to have made them crave rocks

“Isn't baizhu from Liyue, lord of Geo?” 

“And also ice cubes, tsaritsa. It reminds me, wasn't one of your harbingers also in Liyue at that time to close a deal with the Tianquan?”

“Why does everyone think is someone from my nation did it?!”

“Nation of freedom…”

“The biggest wine and sparkling wine importer…”

“You used your week to go bar hopping..”

“You are a weak and unimposing leader…”

“That part sounded more personal than anything!”

[barcaatthemoon]

break time || mapi leon x reader ||

you take a break from writing your thesis paper to spend some time with mapi.

it wasn't that you were unhappy, but rather just laser focused. you were so close to completing your thesis for your doctorate. mapi knew that this was important, it was your entire life's work. it would be the reason that you truly got to do what you wanted in life, so she had to leave you alone. the only issue was that mapi didn't want to sit by herself in the living room all day anymore. she had been alone all weekend, and all she wanted was to spend a little time with you.

the look on your face whenever mapi entered your office was clear frustration. you had everything written out, and now, it was time for editing. that had always been your least favorite part of writing papers. the edits weren't too bad this time, but the sheer size of your thesis paper was massive. so, it was taking you nearly twice as long to finish it.

"bebita, you've been at this all weekend. come and take a break with me, por favor," mapi pleaded with you. she wasn't above getting on her knees in front of you, whether to beg or distract you had yet to be determined.

"i guess that i could take a little break," you reasoned. mapi was surprised when you gave in so easily. she took your hand and led you into the living room. she wanted nothing more than to just curl up with you on the couch, but you were somewhat restless. you couldn't stop moving, and after a little while, mapi was getting up and putting her shoes on. "where are you going?"

"we are going for a walk. you need to move. vamos," mapi said. she pulled you up from the couch and swatted at your butt. it was all in good fun, but you let out a little grumble. your paper had exhausted you, even if you were brimming with excess energy to burn off. mapi noticed, but didn't say anything. she wasn't quite sure what you needed, or if you even knew that yourself.

you felt a little better after the walk. mapi had let you hold her hand and lean up against her side the entire time. it was nice to be so close to your girlfriend after not having seen her for what felt like the longest time. mapi seemed content with letting you cuddle up next to her even after the two of you had gotten back.

"do you feel better?" mapi asked you as the two of you settled back on the couch. she had expected for you to go back to your paper, only to be pleasantly surprised. she was sort of over lounging around by herself, but could have spent the week rotting with you on the couch watching trashy tv shows.

"a little. i'd like to take more time to relax with you before i go back, though," you told her. mapi nodded as she pressed a kiss to your temple. you let yourself sink into her embrace, which was nearly enough to lull you to sleep. however, you knew that you couldn't afford to take a nap right now, not with the amont of work you still had left.

"i miss this," mapi mumbled quietly. she wasn't quite sure whether or not you were still awake. there had been just enough silence for her to know that you could have easily fallen asleep. you glanced up at her and smiled, the same thought having crossed your mind.

"me too. i can't wait until i have my degree and we can spend time together again." mapi leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. it was soft and fairly quick, but still enough to have you breaking out with an even wider grin.

"ah, there it is!" mapi clapped her hands together, causing you to jump. "there's that smile i love so much. i was beginning to wonder whether i'd get to see it at all before you went back to work."

"you're ridiculous, i smile at you all the time. i can't help myself," you admitted. mapi tilted her head as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"yes, but that's a special smile. that's the one that lets me know you're just as far gone for me as i am you," mapi said. you knew that she didn't doubt how much you loved her, there was no way. the two of you were madly in love and had been for years. if anything, you had managed to fall even further in love with her since you started going for your doctorate than whenever the two of you had really started getting serious.

"if i was any more affectionate, you'd be spoiled beyond repair," you teased. mapi knew that it was true, but she still sat there with a pout on her face until you leaned forward and kissed it off. mapi tried to deepen the kiss, but you broke it as you slid off of the couch. "break time is over. i'll be back in for dinner, you can pick tonight, mi vida."

[sunburstl0v3]

Prologue

✿ Ken x Fem. Reader x Barbie ✿

SUPER SHY

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘺, 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 떨리는 지금도, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘺, 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘺

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It was a beautiful morning in Barbie Land. The weather was perfect, sunny with no clouds in sight. Barbie, woke up joyful as always, jumping right into a shower she never skipped, and leaped to her closet readying herself for this perfect eventful day.

The blonde quickly dressed herself in a pink, white polka-dotted dress, with pink heels and a pink flower in her hair. It was perfect. Barbie's morning consisted of a quick breakfast of a cup of milk and a waffle with a dollop of whip cream, the perfect way to have breakfast! Finishing up her breakfast, she floated down to her car, like anyone else would.

"Hi, Barbie!" Barbie waved seeing another Barbie walking along the sidewalk, "Hi Barbie!" She replied. Oh, it was so perfect. As Barbie drove her pretty pink convertible, she greeted the Barbies on her way to the beach. It was another beach day with all the wonderful Barbies and Kens. Yet as Barbie was expecting a lovely morning sitting with other Barbies, chatting about how everything is just so perfect in Barbie Land but as she traveled closer to the beach, Barbie noticed a certain Barbie making a lot of noise.

"You don't understand." Weird Barbie spoke, clutching her overwhelming weird dress, with mismatched colors and stitches, "What don't we understand?" Doctor Barbie questioned, crossing her arms.

"Yeah! You're being a lot weirder than normal, Weird Barbie!" Lawyer Barbie said, "Yea!" Another Barbie chimed in. Weird Barbie frowned, gazing up at the sky, "It's gonna get a whole lot weirder sooner or later..." She muttered, confusing the Barbies but most of them barely paid any mind to her...as she was just off-putting. Then like a flip of a switch, Weird Barbie did the splits and rolled off the beach.

The rest of the Barbies watched as she tumbled away but their eyes instantly met with Stereotypical Barbie, her bright diamond eyes.

"Hi Barbie!" they all yelled in unison, "Hi Barbie!" she waved back, skipping down the sandy hill to the Barbies. "What's going on?" Barbie questioned, looking back at Weird Barbie exiting the beach, "Oh you know, just Weird Barbie being...Weird."

"So, everything is good?" "Everything is amazing!"

Soon after the music started and everyone, including the Kens, began their beach day, some played volleyball, and others had some kind of dance battle or swam in the beautiful blue sea. "Hey Barbie, do you know why Weird Barbie was being so much weirder than normal" throwing back a beach ball, "She said something about another doll joining us." Barbie said, Stereotypical Barbie gasped, "What are we doing!?" she yelled, missing the beach ball being thrown passed her, hitting a Ken in the back of his head.

"What do you mean?" Stereotypical Barbie rushed to sit down on the bleachers, other Barbies following after her, "If another Barbie is joining Barbie Land, we have to host an amazing party for her!" other Barbies murmured between themselves and suddenly getting excited, "Oh em gee! You're so right Barbie!" Author Barbie exclaimed, "How could we not!"

Stereotypical Barbie and Author Barbie began jotting down some ideas for the party which totally had a giant sleepover after.

The Ken's stood far, far away admiring the Barbies as always, "What are they talking about?" Stereotypical Barbie's Ken asked, pouting, "Something about a party." Ken replied, "I bet she's making an invite list, and I doubt you're on it." Ken's rival, Ken said.

Ken grumbled, looking away from the Barbies, "Barbie always invites me." yet Ken's eyes roamed back to Barbie, his Barbie. The way her perfect smile warmed his heart, and how even the slightest eye contact could put him in Ken heaven.

It was always a fact; Ken was undoubtedly in love with Barbie.

"Hey what's that?" someone asked, Ken turned around to face the ocean, and suddenly his face paled, the sky began getting darker, "Is it bedtime already?" His best friend, Allen asked.

"She's here."

"Ahh!" Ken looked next to him and there stood Weird Barbie, absolutely scaring him, "When did you get here?" but Weird Barbie ignored him staring intensely at the sky, "What's going on?" he questioned her, worriedly looking back and forth at the woman and the sky.

"She is arriving." as the words left her mouth, all the Kens gasped, making the group of Barbies look up, their eyes instantly going to the darkened sky, "Where's the sky...?" Stereotypical Barbie whispered, standing up from the bleachers and walking towards the ocean, "Hey Ken...What's happening...?" she asked worriedly, her blonde counterpart immediately did a 180, "Oh hi Barbie." Ken uttered as he fixed his hair making sure he looked really attractive to her.

The storm grew closer and closer to them, "We have to go." Weird Barbie said, backing away and rushing off the beach. Ken furrowed his eyebrows, fighting with himself in his own dilemma: leave for safety or be here with Barbie.

"Maybe we should follow her..." Ken frowned looking behind him and seeing other Barbies and Ken's leave all in fear of what is going on.

"Barbie?" Ken looked back at her, his blue eyes gazing at her full of concern. She was quiet, the giant blue sky she loved so much was a dark grey, large clouds forming together as they crept closer and closer to Barbie Land.

What happened to the sky?

Ken's face paled again, looking back and forth between Barbie and the sky, Ken frowned, "Barbie we have to go to the Dream House." Barbie blinked out of the random headspace and turned to look at Ken.

"Y-Yeah." they both ran away from the beach, hoping in Barbie's convertible, and making a quick getaway to Barbie's Dream House.

That night there was no dance, sleepover, party, or even Ken trying his hardest to impress Barbie.

It was bleak, it was nothing.

Barbie sat on the floor of her Dream House, her legs dangling off the ledge, as she gazed outside. Her blue eyes witnessed the darker clouds surrounding the beach more and more.

Barbie sighed, what was this feeling? Disappointment? Was this a sign about the new Barbie? No. All Barbies were perfect, smart, and happy.

But Barbie Land has never had a storm.

And then it started to rain. A crack of thunder made Barbie flinch, and then came a downpour of rain, coating the beach.

"It's okay..." Barbie whispered, her hands tightening around each other for comfort, "Tomorrow there will be another beautiful perfect day..."

With nothing left to do on this overwhelming day, she sat on her couch and waited till she couldn't hear the storms no more.

"She's here!" a loud yell awoke Barbie, jolting her up from the couch, a familiar voice yelled out again, and the sound of clapping, "She's here!! Hahah!" It was Weird Barbie who seemed to be crazy about this new Barbie. But anyway, Barbie lifted herself off the couch and floated down to the street, looking back up at the sky. Good, it was back to being blue and the sun was setting.

"Are you sure the new Barbie is here?" Diplomat Barbie asked, walking closer to her.

"Yep! I'm 1000% sure!" Weird Barbie smirked, her marked-up face scrunching. Stereotypical Barbie smiled, "Well, we shouldn't keep her waiting now should we."

Just a few minutes later, many Barbies and Kens huddled around the beach all staring at specific women. The woman, had her back turned to them, she was not what they were expecting...

"Welcome Barbie! This is Barbie Land!" Stereotypical Barbie beamed while she welcomed the new Barbie, excited to finally introduce her to everyone. She stepped closer to the woman, standing right behind her.

Barbie blinked, waiting for her new friend to turn and begin her new life here as a Barbie but she stood still watching the (plastic) ocean. Barbie frowned, shuffling to the girl's side and finally seeing her face.

[E/c] eyes, the new Barbie had glossy [e/c] eyes, she had eyes that seemed the sparkle as she gazed out admiring the sun, "Hello?" Barbie asked, finally the woman turned her head towards Barbie, startling her a bit.

"Hello..." she spoke, so soft that Barbie almost missed it, "Hi Barbie, welcome to Barbie Land."

The woman blinked, pouting, "I'm not Barbie, I'm [Y/n]."

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taglist: @imogen-skye @samhomo @almostjollypizza @itstylersblog @meowkid1000 @urmomsbananabread

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Bangchan x F!Reader TW : unexpected pregnancy ; Chan is unknowingly (to him) an asshole ; relationship doubts ; a surprise visit from ATEEZ's Hongjoong ; a lot of angst ; and a nice little nana cliffhanger ; Word Count : 4.4k Request : Yes! By a lot of people! A/N : Back to the good stuff!! Angsty Dad Bangchan coming up!! Lets go!!!

A family of your own… It was all you had ever wanted, and surprisingly enough, Chan was fully onboard, sharing that he had similar dreams and that he wanted nothing more than to make those dreams come true with you. 

That’s why, when your period didn’t come at all for two months straight, you were more than happy, and maybe a little bit nervous, to run to the nearest corner store and grab a pack-or three-of pregnancy tests just to see if that gut feeling you had was right. 

It’s amazing how the validation of two pink lines can completely change the way a person feels. One second you’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub hoping to see those lines, and then you watch them appear as if like magic, and it’s like your entire world and your whole view of it changes, it becomes brighter, clearer, and you get this warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach that can only be described as the feeling of spring, everything in full bloom and the sun beating down and everything is just… Beautiful. 

You were too excited, you couldn’t possibly wait for Chan to get home, so you sent him a quick text. “Call me as soon as you’re able to. I love you!” You sent it, and in less than a second your phone was vibrating atop the toilet seat. “What’s wrong? You’re alright?” He asked quickly, and you realized only now that your text was probably slightly worrisome, so you took a moment to calm him, to let him know that you were safe and that you were more than alright. 

“I haven’t gotten my period in two months… You know that…” You started off, and he hummed softly to let you know that he was listening and following along. “I finally went down to the store and got myself some tests…” You continued, and you heard the lack of breathing from his end, he was waiting for you to say it, to say something. “Babe… I’m pregnant!” You practically squealed, and you heard a loud thump from his end and a muffled groaning and then someone else in the background asking if he was alright. 

“You shoulda told me to stand up before you told me that! You’re serious!? I’m gonna be a dad?! Are you sure?!” The excitement that you felt was shared, you could hear it in his voice, and you could only laugh at how giddy he actually sounded. “Do you want me to come home? I can leave right now! Baby, I’m so happy! How am I supposed to keep working? I wanna come home!” 

He was rambling, and it was honestly so cute that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. If there was anyone in the world that you knew would make an amazing father, it was him. You weren’t even fully pregnant yet and he already wanted to be home with you, you knew that you had someone that you could depend on throughout your pregnancy, someone that would be there with you, for you, through it all. “S’alright, babe. You don’t have to rush home now, it’s not like I’m in labor or anything. I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You can get back to work now, sorry for interrupting.” 

He gasped loudly, a jumbled mess of sounds coming incoherently from his mouth before he spoke an actual sentence. “You expect me to be able to get back to work after hearing that?! Baby, I wanna come home and be with you! I wanna celebrate! The album can wait, and I know that Jisung and Bin can take care of what I have left for the day anyway. I’m comin’ home now.” 

The excitement was sky high for the first two months, he’d call off work completely just to be with you for doctors appointments, he’d hold those little ultrasound images close to him as if they were the most precious pictures on the face of the earth right now. He was attached to you, and you truthfully didn’t mind it, especially since those two months had given you the brunt of all of your symptoms. He was right there with you though, telling you how amazing you were, how good you were doing, how happy he was that you were carrying his child and how he couldn’t wait to meet his little jellybean. 

By the third month, it seemed like the novelty wore off, although not completely, not yet at least. He became a little distant, not entirely, but he certainly wasn’t clinging onto you as he had been before. You simply assumed that he was just keeping you in mind since you were constantly sweating, your body temperature felt like you had been sitting in the summer sun for hours, although the doc said that was quite normal actually. Maybe he just thought that you didn’t want him constantly hanging on to you as he had been, and he wouldn’t be entirely wrong in thinking that. 

It wasn’t until the fourth month when you realized just how distant he had truly become. It almost seemed like he had just gotten bored of it, his initial reaction seeming more and more like a dream with each passing day. He’d give you a kiss goodbye in the morning, but the lingering touches that used to drift along your stomach were long gone, it was almost as if the bigger you got, the more he just… didn’t care. That hurt, more than you’d like to admit. 

Even still, you tried to make excuses for him. He had been working so hard on the album, and now that it was finally announced to the public, he was more stressed than ever. That had you questioning though whether he truly thought of what it would be like to have a child. There was a lot of responsibility, and while you knew that you could do it yourself if needed, you didn’t want to, not when the two of you both discussed this and in the beginning, he made it seem like this was what he wanted as well. 

Although Chan was acting the way he was, you were still beyond joyful, especially now that the most important scan was coming up. You’d finally be able to find out the gender of your little jellybean, and from day one, since he had found out, he said that this appointment was the one he was most excited for as well. There was something so magical about finding out the gender of the tiny little human that you were growing inside of you, and you wanted Chan to be there to share in the magic with you. 

“You’re already ready, that’s great!” You chimed as you stepped out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to head out, and you saw Chan standing in the kitchen fully dressed as well sipping on a cup of coffee as he scrolled through his phone. He glanced up at you, his eyebrow arching in confusion as he looked you over, and you hoped, you silently prayed that he was just joking with you right now. “The doctors appointment is today… It’s the gender scan… I told you that.” 

You tried to keep your voice as light as possible, but the slight tremor was heard by you, and you were sure that it was heard by him as well. “Ah shit… That’s today? Why would you schedule it for today? You know we have an interview today.” He was… scolding you… As if it were your fault that the appointment that you had made a month in advance had fallen on the same day of an interview that you hadn’t a single clue was going on. “You’re gonna have to catch a ride there or something, I don’t have the time to drive across town and make it back to the studio in time.” 

He was choosing an interview over you… over the baby. It was shocking to say the least, and it felt like his words alone had ripped your heart straight from your chest, but what was worse was the way he was looking at you as if this was somehow all your fault. “Right… Sorry…” You mumbled, not wanting to get into an argument with him right now solely because you didn’t want to smudge your makeup with the tears that you knew he’d cause. 

“It’s fine I guess… Just… Think a little more, yeah?” He gave you a meek smile as he walked past you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before rushing to the door. “I’ll probably be a little late coming home today. The guys all want to go out and celebrate the upcoming release so… I’ll probably just stay at the dorms tonight.” It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose, creating this unimaginably large space between himself and you… Or maybe it was himself and the baby, although you weren’t sure why. What you did know though, was that it wasn’t fair, not to you, and surely not to the baby. 

Being with Chan had gave you contact to some other big stars in the business, and most people would assume that you were happy about it solely because of their status, but you saw in people their best attributes, their soft sides, the sides of them that they hid from the cameras, the sides of them that made them more than just idols. One of those people happened to be Hongjoong, who had been the first person to come over and personally congratulate you and Chan when you told him you were pregnant. These past two months he had even become more invested in your pregnancy than Chan was. That’s why he was the first person you called. 

“Am I bothering you? You’re not busy… Are you?” Were the first words out of your mouth as soon as he had picked up his phone. You were sitting on the edge of the couch, watching the time tick down, getting closer to your appointment, and you hated riding in a strangers car, it made you feel uncomfortable, and Chan knew that. You hated that he would willingly put you in the position to do something like that. 

Hongjoongs soft chuckle came through your speaker, and you could hear the other guys in the background talking, but it seemed to grow distant as if he were going somewhere quieter to talk to you. “You’re never a bother, honey.” He cooed out the pet name, one that Chan had said on multiple occasions that he hated, but old habits die hard, and you knew that Hongjoong meant nothing by it. “What’s up? Are you having another craving? I can get you whatever you need.” 

God, you wished it were that simple, but you scoffed, shaking your head as if he could see it. “No… I have a doctors appointment, and I need to get there but… Chan had an interview with the guys today and he needed to be there for it. I just need a ride…” Your voice trembled as you said the words, and for some reason, you felt ashamed having to ask another man for help when your boyfriend, the father of your child, was fully capable of getting you to your appointment and just chose not to. 

“Is he gonna meet you there?” He quizzed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to verbally answer his question, at least, not with words, so you let out a dejected sigh that gave him all the answers he needed. “Alright, let me just get my shoes on and I’ll come pick you up. We’ll make it there in time. Do you want me to stay in there with you? We can go get something to eat when it’s done.” He knew that you wouldn’t turn down food, so you agreed to his offer, a smile slowly returning to your face as you finally relaxed against the couch cushions. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Joongie. Thank you so much.” You chirped, and you heard him laugh again, the sound of it almost contagious. You weren’t sure what you would have done if he wasn’t able to, but then again, Hongjoong would come help you at the drop of a dime simply because he cared about you. Chan saw it differently, but then again, if it weren’t for Hongjoong, you wouldn’t be making it to your appointment today, so in your eyes, he had no right to be jealous or upset about it. 

“A girl!” Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes brightening as a wide smile spread across his face. Not even Chan had gotten this excited during the last two visits, it was a nice change of pace, and a very welcomed change of atmosphere. “That’s so exciting, honey. I’m so happy!” He continued, grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze. 

The nurse who had been wiping the gel off your stomach confusedly looked between you and Hongjoong, clearly wondering why Chan wasn’t there, and why this new man seemed more happy about the gender reveal than the actual father would have been, but you didn’t have the time to go into details about how your entire dream seemed to be spiraling, so you focused your attention on Hongjoong entirely. “Are we celebrating at my favorite restaurant?” You teasingly asked, and when his mouth fell open, you were about to backtrack and let him know you were joking, until his head fervently nodded. 

“Of course! Where else would I take you to celebrate, huh? My honeys deserve the best!” He looked at the nurse who only seemed more and more confused the more he spoke, but he didn’t seem to mind it, giving her a warm smile. “Is she done? I don’t want her to be hungry… Did you eat this morning?” He glanced down at you and you shook your head which had him looking back up at the nurse for the answer to his first question. 

Once the nurse gave you the okay that you were done and printed out the ultrasound pictures, Hongjoong grabbed your purse and helped lead you out of the office, his hand wrapped around your waist almost protectively as you rode down the elevator to get to the first floor. “Thank you for coming with me… It’s so embarrassing to be in there alone sometimes and… Seeing all the other couples kind of makes me sad.” You always felt like you could be so open with him, he was so understanding, and he always listened to everything that you had to say. It was nice to have someone like that in your life, someone unbiased that wouldn’t always take the side of Chan, and while you loved the other guys, they would always lean more towards their leader. 

“If you ever need someone to go with you, if Bangchan can’t make it, you can always call me. Remember that, honey. I’m always here for you.” He reassured you, his hand moving from your waist to your lower back as he led you out of the elevator. “You think I can have one of the pictures though? It’s so neat to actually see her, I wanna show all of the guys.” You nodded your head, climbing into the passenger seat and fishing the row of pictures out of your purse to look through them again. “Looks like she has your nose…” Hongjoong mused as he leaned over the console to look at the pictures with you before playfully tapping the tip of your nose. “She’s gonna be adorable, just like you.” 

He always gave you a warm feeling, but you attributed that to his friendliness and how kind he was, but now, sitting next to him in the car after sharing such an important moment with him, looking him in the eyes… You didn’t know if that feeling stopped there… And you felt guilty for that. Maybe it was just because you were upset with Chan and your mind was trying to find some other source of happiness… It felt wrong though. “Thanks… Joongie.” You murmured, dropping your gaze down to your lap as you fumbled with the edge of the blouse you were wearing. You couldn’t let your mind continue with those thoughts… It wouldn’t be right… Chan was your boyfriend, and you were sure that Hongjoong was simply being kind to you. That’s all it was… 

“You keep ordering more stuff for her when you know she’ll just grow out of it by the second month.” Chan grumbled when he heard the knock on the door, his annoyance with your online baby shopping becoming more and more evident with each package that came in. It’s not like you were spending his money though, you were still working for the time being, at least while you could. “You’re wasting your money.” He continued as you grabbed your phone to see which package could have possibly been delivered today. 

The door knocked again, and now you both were confused because, even if it was a package delivery, they would have only knocked once to let you know that the package was delivered and then went about their day. That, and the fact that you hadn’t gotten any notifications or updates that anything you had ordered was out for delivery. “Well it’s not for me, maybe it’s a new piece of equipment for your studio.” You said, refusing to get up off the couch considering the fact that it took you almost 15 minutes to get comfortable now that you were getting bigger. 

He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up off the couch, mumbling something under his breath about not being able to enjoy a day off. “Look, whatever you’re selling, we’re not interes…ted…-” He trailed off as the door was opened and an excited Hongjoong stood there holding a pastel pink bag with even more pink tissue paper sticking out of the top. “What are you doing here?” Chan asked, looking down at the bag and then back up at Hongjoong who was still wearing the biggest and brightest smile, looking past Chan to spot you. 

“I came to see my honey.” Hongjoong stated as if it were a known fact that he was going to drop by, but neither you or Chan knew he was coming, but for you, it was a welcome surprise. “Can I come in?” He asked, and before Chan could say no, you were getting up off the couch to go meet him at the door instead. “You’re getting so big… In the most beautiful way, honey.” He cooed, looking you over with heart eyes and pink tinged cheeks. 

“Thank you, Joongie…” You whispered, feeling shy under his gaze, but Chans glare had tension filling the air. “Who’s the present for?” You asked, trying to change the subject, and Hongjoong took that as his queue to come inside, going straight past Chan and wrapping his arm around your waist to lead you to the couch. 

The door was slammed shut, and Chans presence alone, even if you couldn’t see him standing behind the couch, you could just feel him there. He was hovering, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of him in waves. “I was at the store and I walked past this outfit, I just thought it would look adorable on little honey pot.” He placed the bag down the floor in front of you and reached out to press his hand against your stomach, chuckling lightly when he felt the baby kick against his palm. “She still hasn’t settled down since you texted me, has she? Don’t worry though, I brought what you said you were craving, maybe that’ll settle her down.” 

You heard Chan huff behind you, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth causing you and Hongjoong both to turn around and look at him. “Oh, don’t let me distract you. Just wondering why you’re buying clothes for my daughter and food for my pregnant girlfriend when I’m literally right here.” His tone was sharp when he said it, and while you had understood the hint, it either went right over Hongjoongs head or he just decided to ignore it. 

“Well I already said why I bought the outfit.” Hongjoong said casually, leaning back on the couch and draping his arm over your shoulder, glancing over his own to keep his eyes on Chan. “And Y/N sent me a text earlier saying that she was kind of uncomfortable because the baby can't seem to sit still, so I thought that I’d bring her her favorite snack. I don’t see anything wrong with that…” He turned to look at you. “Do you?” 

The air felt so thick, you could barely breathe, but truthfully, you didn’t see a problem with Hongjoong helping you out, so you shook your head no. “I really appreciate you coming over and bringing me these things. Thank you, Joong. It means a lot.” You gave him a warm smile, and he leaned in to press a quick peck to your temple. 

It was a shock to you, but what was more shocking, what had you practically jumping out of your seat was the sound of Chans hands slapping against the back cushion of the couch. “I need to talk to my girlfriend and you-” He pointed to Hongjoong, not even caring at the moment just how rude the gesture was. “You need to leave.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand, and for the first time since Hongjoong had been there, it seemed like he was finally getting the hint. 

That didn’t stop him from grabbing your hands and looking at you with his dark, almost black eyes, that looked at you so softly right now, with so much concern. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked, ignoring Chan completely at this point, his thumb brushing over your knuckles to try to keep your attention on him. You quickly nodded your head, and while he didn’t believe it, he couldn’t really do much either. “Text me if you need me, you know I’m always here for you, honey.” 

Chan didn’t have to lead him to the door, Hongjoong went there himself, and you really wished that you could have gone with him because now you were the direct target of Chans anger, his eyes like daggers staring right through you. “You wanna tell me why some other guy is buying clothing for my child? Why he’s going out and getting my girlfriends snacks? I’ve been here all fucking day and you haven’t said shit to me! I could have gotten the food for you!” 

It was jealousy, that’s all it was, and it was so hypocritically funny that you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh for fucks sake, Chan. You haven’t spent a fucking dime on her! You don’t give a shit about me or the baby. Don’t pretend to start now just because your ego is bruised.” You snapped back, and you watched as he shook his head, his eyes narrowing even more now. 

“Is she even mine?! Why should I spend any of my money on her!? You’ve got Hongjoong out here acting like he’s the one who fucking knocked you up!” You blinked a few times, letting his words fully process in your head. He was not only accusing you of cheating on him, but accusing another guy of fathering his baby. Surely it must be guilt, knowing that you were right, but that didn’t make you any less pissed off. 

“Do you ever think he’s acting that way because he feels bad?” You asked, and Chans face scrunched up as he let out a scoff. “No. I’m being serious right now, Christopher.” He was shaking his head, his body already turning to walk away, and that was the icing on the cake, the final straw. “He’s doing what you refuse to do! I never asked him to do that, he just did because you’ve been blowing off doctors appointments, you… you treat her like a mistake and a burden and she’s not even here yet! You don’t even acknowledge the fact that I’m pregnant anymore unless it’s something that you have a problem with! I needed some kind of fucking emotional support while I go through this, and you sure as hell haven’t been supportive at all! He was there when I needed him… When you decided that your job is more important than the child that you created.” 

He stopped in the middle of the room, you could see how tense he was, his back muscles stiff under the tight black shirt that he was wearing. “Then why don’t you just go be with him since he’s better than me anyway?” He posed. You could hear how heavily he was breathing, you could see it in the way his shoulders rose and fell quickly. He was furious, although you weren’t sure who with at this point. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll text him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” And maybe it was the heat of the moment making you say it, but deep down, you knew you didn’t mean it. Chan was the father of your daughter, he was the love of your life, and even after months of him blowing you off, the future that you imagined with your daughter still had him in it. You wanted to spend your life with him. 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t. So just text him. Just fucking go.” He said flatly, storming off into the shared bedroom and slamming the door behind him. The last thing you wanted to do was go into the bedroom and try to talk to him, you didn’t even want to go in there to get your clothes, so you got up and walked out the front door, running right into Hongjoong who had been standing outside and listening to everything. 

Chan watched through the blinds in the bedroom, watching as Hongjoong led you to his car, helping you in before gently closing the door behind you and then climbing in. He watched and he waited for you to climb back out, but then the car started backing up… And then it pulled off. He had just forced you into the arms of the very person that he was terrified would take you away… All because he was jealous, and he had gotten so distracted with work… He had fucked everything up. The future that he had built with you in his dreams, that he imagined and drew out… It was all thrown out the window and he had been the one to throw it. 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 6

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You sleep sitting up. Aside from the stiffness in your muscles, your stomach is gurgling from the greasy meal. The night fraught with worry and restlessness leaves your head even more cloudy than before. It’s real, you know it, and yet you just don’t want to accept it. 

The doctor comes after 8am. He checks your father’s vital and makes some notes on his chart. Andy asks about his condition as you can’t bring yourself to speak. He looks ragged and tired, you must not come off any better. 

“We’ll have to wait until he’s stable to make any further determination. We’ll need to test his cognizance along with his physical capabilities. The injury like has caused a TBI, meaning the effects will vary. He’ll need to be monitored well beyond his time here,” the doctor explains as Andy listens intently. You cling to every word but your mind is reeling. “Best to discuss what sort of therapies would be covered by insurance.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Andy says, “thanks, doctor.” 

“Of course. You did a good job getting him here quickly,” the man in the white coat pauses and sends you definitive look, “keeping pressure on him. You both saved his life.” 

Your eyes sting and your nose burns. You can't cry. Not yet. Once you crack, you know that’s it. You won’t be able to stop. Your cheeks tug and you thank him, swallowing down the swell of horror.  

“Andy,” you eke out as the doctor leaves, “I couldn’t get through to my mom. Do you mind if I try again?” 

“Hm, I haven’t charged my phone,” he slides his cell from his pocket, “I’m at twelve percent. Could do the trick.” 

“Oh, maybe I could ask the nurse’s desk. I think I saw a patient phone around here.” 

“Good idea,” he nods. “I texted Jacob but I don’t think he has service up there. We’ll need to go grab some clothes so how about we do that today?” 

“I... I can’t leave my dad,” you insist. 

“Sweetheart, they said he’s going to be out for some time.” 

“He shouldn’t wake up alone,” you argue. 

“Alright,” he shows his palm appeasingly, “I’ll drive up, grab your stuff, and we’ll get everything else sorted when I get back.” 

“I can do this,” you avow, as much to yourself as him, “you’ve done enough.” 

“Right, I know, you’re a strong girl. But what do you do next? Once you talk to mom. You gotta call insurance, right? Do you have what they need? You’ll need the plan number, that’s probably in his wallet, right? You’ll at least need proof of ID. We brought him in in his trunks and nothing else. All that’s up at the cottage,” he shakes his head, “I don’t doubt you can handle it but a little help can’t hurt.” 

Your eyes widen and you sigh. You drag your hands down your cheek, “yeah...” 

“You can’t think of it all right now. That’s expected. You should worry about him. So I’ll deal with the details.” 

“Andy,” you utter, “I...” you look at your dad and get up, shuffling to his bedside. You take his hand, careful not to tug the tubes and tape, “I owe you.” 

“It’s what people do for each other, right? I’m a dad too. I know if anything happened to me, Jacob would be lost.” 

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you crackle from your dry throat. 

“Try to rest if you can,” he sniffs and scratches his beard, “I’ll be quick. As quick as possible.” 

“Sure,” you squeeze your dad’s hand, barely hearing Andy. You just want him to wake up, or maybe you can wake up from this nightmare. 

🌅

You force yourself out of the room to ask the nurse about a phone. She points you towards a worn phone down a few halls meant for emergency calls. You punch in your mom’s number and wait for it to dial. It takes six tries for her to answer but you won’t give up this time. 

“Hey, what’s up?” She answers casually. 

You don’t answer right away. You can hear the lightness in her voice and the rustle of unknown movement. She’s busy with something or someone. Probably her latest fling. 

“Mom,” you scratch out, “it’s dad.” 

“What is it now? Tell me he’s not drank himself into the tank again. He’s too old for that.” 

“Mom,” you say firmer than before, “mom, he’s hurt.” 

“Hurt. Well, call the paramedics, I don’t know,” she giggles and you sigh. 

“We’re at the hospital,” you raise your voice, “he’s... he’s not awake. He hit his head. And I... I’m scared.” 

She’s silent. You hear her move around and she excuses herself. A door clicks on her end and she scoffs, “well, what do you want me to do about it? He’s your father.” 

You’re stunned by her callous response. 

“And I’m your daughter,” you insist, “what... you should...” you shake your head and deflate. “Well, mom,” your voice cracks, “I’m sorry I interrupted fun for something so stupid as this.” 

“Honey, please, I’m a bit shocked is all,” she squeaks, “I mean what can I do from so far away. For my ex-husband of all people? You’re an adult. You need to learn how to handle these things.” 

“Gee, thanks, mom,” you sneer and slam the phone on the hook. 

You don’t know why you expected any different. You’re not at her house because she told you plainly that she didn’t want you spoiling her fun. She gave up trying to be a parent the minute you turned eighteen. 

You roll your eyes back against a new wave of tears; these one angry. You guess you just need to grow up. It’s your turn to take care of your dad. 

[deonsx]

Bsd Men How Are They During Your Pregnancy

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai

Dazai Osamu

He is really a very worried boyfriend, he cares a lot about you and your future child, but he still feels like he can't find the courage in himself. "My love...you will be a wonderful father" You left kisses on his beautiful skin and caressed the brunette's hair. The brown irises that looked at you with admiration sparkled like gold

While you sleep, he constantly hugs you around your waist and caresses your belly to keep you warm, carries you in his arms most of the time, and of course physical touch is inevitable, he holds your hand everywhere and smothers you with kisses, he becomes very clingy

He is more threatening than usual when it comes to protecting you, too much to let anyone touch you, and if there is someone who is more emotional than you during your pregnancy, it is definitely him, you constantly try to calm him down "Bella..I don't want you to suffer..." you smelled his silky brown hair and kissed it "I will never leave you alone belladonna.." he narrowed his beautiful brown eyes giving you full power "My Beautiful Angels I Will Protect You Until The End"

Chuuya Nakahara

He is truly a perfectionist, he never lets you work and takes care of everything himself and never makes it an issue, he is very excited about the gender of your child and even though he has doubts about being a good father, you don't even doubt that he will be the best, he follows routines every night. He asks for your favorite meal every evening and the next day that meal appears in front of you, he buys you the best of everything and makes it for you

He also always lays his head on your belly as an hourly activity and tries to listen to your child's movements "I Feel It's Gonna Be A Girl..but of course I wish it to be healthy" and yes he was right you found out you are having a girl he was a man with strong feelings. Sometimes he would read you sleep stories, sometimes he actually treated you like a child, all the housework was on him and he would go to the doctor weekly and bring a doctor daily

"I will always be there for you" he spoke giving you a hug "I can't wait to Name our Daughter!" You both laughed and evaluated the last days until the birth, accompanied by the romantic series on television. "Don't Be Afraid, I Will Always Be By Your Side And Hold Your Hand”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

Of course, Fyodor took this situation a little more seriously, not without love, it could never be like this, but in the end, he wanted to have a child with the woman he loved, and now he is doing his best to take care of them seriously and protectively. Every part of your detached house is covered with guards. No matter how serious it looks, he only cares about you. It would be very rare for him to show it, but during pregnancy, his interest in you usually shows in his words rather than his actions

“Are you excited for that, love?” You cooed as you lay happily on Fyodor's lap. "Of course I am, that child will be as smart as me and as...beautiful as you." Even though he says the last parts in a light whisper and with seriousness on his face, you always see the effort in him, he leaves kisses on your forehead

He didn't put you under house arrest during your pregnancy, he took you wherever you wanted with privilege, and the last place you went was a chalet, you watched him while he was trying to light the fireplace, "Food-" "The servants will take care of it, dear" he sent you a quick reply, he didn't make you work in any way, everything was the best in the house. was left in the hands of reliable servants "I Can't Let You Get Tired My Dear, Rest"

Nikolai Gogol

He really is much more excited than you and annoys you around the house by singing stupid songs about it every day, but can you blame him? He will be a father and he is already dreaming: "Imagine braiding her white hair, just like mine!" You giggled at what he said. “Maybe we will have a daughter who will look like me, Nikolai?” this only made him spin around and pull you towards him, holding your hands. “This will be so much better! I'll braid her hair and get her clothes ready!”

He constantly skips his job, postpones his duties and refuses to leave the house without you. He is really a child you already have. "Ahhh what will I do with you...!" You laughed at him as if you were making fun of him, you unraveled your boyfriend's white braided hair and kissed them. During your relationship with him, he was really very kind and loyal to you. Even though he was serious and sneaky at his place of duty, he never showed this side to you, especially during pregnancy

He didn't make you do any work and he already designed your child's future room. While he was doing this, he also took ideas from you. Of course, he was much more excited than you. He was very excited about your daughter to be born. "You, me and our daughter. “I will give the necessary value to our family, my love"

Enjoy!

We Are 300!

[sophsiaaa]

I've been wanting to make this post for a while so now that I'm on mid-sem break, I will. Let's talk Shigaraki and sex.

NSFW warning??

So, let's get the big question out of the way. Is Shigaraki a virgin?

I think, yes. 100%

However, that is not to say that he is an innocent, oblivious, 'omg what is sex? uwu' baby villain. This guy literally lives in a bar, in a seedy part of the city, and hangs around with criminals. He knows about sex - I daresay he knows quite a bit about it. Besides which, we see in-canon that he has a phone and a PC and access to the internet, so he's hardly sheltered (though, he's definitely sheltered in regard to actual real-life socialisation, but that's another story).

Regardless, I stand by my assertion that he is a virgin.

Exhibit A: Shigaraki is shown very overtly to hate 'basically everything'. Correct me if I'm wrong, but everything encompasses sex/romance/intimacy. His character, especially at the beginning of the story, is prickly, quick-to-frustration, and sort of single-minded. He is driven to complete one narrow goal set by AFO that he believes he wants: to kill All Might. I believe prior to our introduction to Shigaraki, he was much the same, and thus did not seek out sex. Given his hostile and loner-guy nature at the start of the series, I doubt he would have had much in the way of propositions on his occasional solo trip to the mall.

Exhibit B: whilst I have seen it theorised that AFO introduced Shigaraki to sex via getting him a sex worker to 'satisfy his natural urges', personally, I think this theory is unlikely. This is because everything AFO does is to create discomfort and frustration in Shigaraki's life in order to stoke his rage (the guy literally has him wearing dead hands despite the fact that they make Shigaraki simultaneously feel calm and like throwing up). Thus, I doubt AFO would have encouraged Shigaraki to indulge in sexual relief - or any kind of relief - at all. I doubt he would have even explained the birds and the bees and likely pawned that job off onto the doctor or the internet if Shigaraki asked any questions.

So, we've established that Shigaraki's a virgin, and an ultimate hasn't-even-kissed-anyone virgin at that. But does he want to have sex? That big question number 2.

Honestly, I don't think he much cares for it.

It's odd to say given the multitude of what is essentially sex-addict-Shiagraki headcanons out there, but I truly think he doesn't really think about sex. Shigaraki's sex drive is probably quite low. Now, since I'm taking an evidence based approach here, lets go for the obvious evidence that points to him not having much interest in sex and that is the fact that if he was interested in it, Horikoshi would not shy away from showing it. My Hero Academia is not a manga that shies away from the odd bit of fan service or the pervy character. Mineta is - unfortunately - living proof of this. And he's not the only one. Horikoshi writes many of his characters displaying sexual attraction/interest/engagement/awareness at one point or another. So, logically, if Shigaraki was a character who was interested in sex, Horikoshi would show that. Since he doesn't, I can only conclude that sex isn't really a big deal to Shigaraki, or at the very least, not something he thinks about enough for it to show up on-screen.

Now, do I believe that Shigaraki has zero sexual interest? No. I think he's watched porn before, and probably even jerks it every now and then. But do I think he would actively seek out sex? Nah. Honestly, I don't even think he'd go along with sex unless it's with someone he's got a pre-established emotional connection to that's been building for a long time.

Like everything with Shigaraki, I think sex would be intense. By this I mean, he wouldn't be the type to have a casual one-night-stand or a friends-with-benefits fling. If he's in it, his heart's in it. Because he is so angry and destructive, Shiagraki often gets mischaracterised as heartless and deliberately cruel (this is a conversation for a separate post), but in reality, he cares a lot about certain things and puts his all into them. With sex, he would have to care about the who for the what to matter.

In conclusion - Shigaraki's well aware that BDSM doesn't stand for Bible Discussion/Study Meeting, but he's also a virgin loser who would not pin you up against the wall and have his way with you in a dark alley.

[mochiimadness]

hello!!! i love your works so far :DD!!

can i request the rise boys with an s/o who’s a human but has experience fighting with mutants? like s/o uses a scythe and can easily fight with the turtles :)

The Rise! Turtles with a human scythe wielding s/o!

Neon Leon

He thinks you're so cool!

Listen, he knows humans can go up against yokai's and mutant's

I mean, his dad and April are living proof of that-

But he genuinely can't help but be amazed when he sees you using a scythe of all things to go up against yokai's literally four times your size

Especially since you seemingly appeared out of nowhere to join the battle-

Seriously, can you portal or something???

He stops are stares as you easily knock a rather angry lizard yokai off balance, before sending them running with a slice of your wicked scythe

Your movement were so fluid,

A literal blink and you'll miss it type of speed

"Woah S/O! I didn't know you could do that-"

He'll exclaim, before ducking as you swipe at another angry yokai right behind him

"Think you could teach me how to do some of that??"

"Sure- we should probably finish this fight first though."

Oh right the fight-

He loves to spar with you

You're able to keep up with him quite easily!

And Leo is fast- like really fast

But even when he uses his portals to try to get near you-

Your scythe easily keeps him at bay.

He's absolutely in awe of you

Your blades clash together and Leo gives you this bright smile

"How in the world did I end up with someone so cool!?"

Don Tron

Donnie's impressed!

Though, he tries not to show it

Wielding a weapon like a scythe or bow staff automatically gives you cool points in his book

And you're incredibly proficient with your scythe too???

Donnie definitely want's to challenge you

"Your scythe versus my magnificent Bo-staff, I think the winner is pretty clear here."

What he thought would be an easy fight ended up being a nearly 20 minute long battle

You both were neck and neck

You were quick to block his attacks and dish out some deadly looking slices of your own

Afterwards, Donnie offers to modify your scythe for you!

"Think about it- it's already incredibly sharp and in your hands?? Borderline deadly. Now, hear me out, imagine if it had a chainsaw?"

Donnie pls.

"Or what if it was purple!?"

Donnie no-

Whether or not you let him add some "flair" to your scythe

He genuinely thinks you're cool

He doesn't even flinch when he sees you, his wonderful human s/o, go up against a super powered yokai

"Me? Worried?? No need to, I already called a mystic doctor."

"You mean a human doctor, right?"

"No??? That yokai obviously needs a mystic doctor."

He never doubted you for a second~

(That yokai you beat definitely needed that doctor- yikes)

Mystic Mike

He thinks you're amazing!!!

You're out here with no powers

No magic

No mutations

Just your normal human self and scythe

Fighting angry mutants and yokai like nothing!!!

Mikey thinks you're one of the strongest people he's ever known!

Aside from his family ofc

He loves to watch you fight

Has and will bring snacks to watch

Ofc, if you're ever in a pinch, Mikey will gladly swoop in to help you

He absolutely loves teaming up with you

Between his nun-chucks and your scythe-

No villain stands a chance

He even uses the blades in his nun-chucks from time to time to "match with you" ^^

Loves asking you to let him wrap his chains around the staff portion of your scythe so you can launch him at people

"It'll look so cool! C'mon just once???"

To be fair-

It does look and feel pretty dang cool!

Mikey knows you can handle your own in battle

He's seen it more than once

But if things ever get too rough

He's always there to lend a hand!

Big Red

Oh Raph...

Poor guy nearly faints every time you go into battle

Yes he knows humans can fight too

But you're not even using a mystic powered weapon like April does!

You could get seriously injured or worse!!

He always starts worrying over you

Especially when you both were just starting to get to know each other-

He didn't want to loose one of the few friends and humans that he knew!

He often will go into battle and cover you,

Taking hits or tackling opponents away

But you end up having a serious talk with him about this

"I know you're worried, but I can do this. I know how to fight-"

"I know, I know, I just get worried ya know?"

While he's still nervous about it,

He eventually starts hanging back to let you fight your own fights

And he comes to realize you are pretty great at what you do!

Your scythe is practically an extension of your own body,

And you easily handle opponents larger than you-

Both mystic and mutated!

"You're amazing!!"

Raph really comes to respect your strength and proficiency with your scythe.

He knows you can handle yourself

That still doesn't stop him from jumping in to help or defend you

Even when you may not necessarily need help

He still cares and worries about you

Doesn't want you to get hurt

Especially if he can help it.

"Er- sorry, I just jumped in again without thinkin'..."

I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for such a long wait

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VII. twenty-one questions.

parts: previously / next plot: everything comes to a head. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, reader's a little stupid, descriptions of surgical stitching, blood, surgical needles, knives, violence, mentions of drugs and underage substance abuse (alcohol), minor character death(s). words: 11.4k.

a/n: it has been yet another hot minute and this chapter has given me a lot of grief in terms of all the ideas I had for it and what it ended up being. as you can tell by the word count, I could Not shut up

Alfred calls you bright and early to watch Bruce spar.

The billionaire had mentioned it before, and while you didn't doubt you would meet an untimely fate were you to challenge Mr. Pennyworth one-on-one, it was a whole other thing seeing them both on the mat.

Alfred is slow but thoughtful; when Bruce attacks, he goes for several hits at once. Alfred anticipates each one. He's more defense than offense, but when he strikes Bruce in the chest even you can feel it.

Bruce is lean, quick. He ducks and rolls and uses every part of his body, not just his fists. He looks a little sloppy when he wraps his legs around Alfred's—out of practice, maybe?—but it doesn't keep him from succeeding. Alfred fights like a soldier. Bruce fights like a martial artist.

Bruce makes a noise when Alfred falls to the mat and you spring up with attention, "Everything okay?"

You hear "his leg" and "I'm fine" overlap one another.

The real reason Alfred had called you was because he wanted you to watch Bruce hurt himself. The vestiges of a sprain, he guessed, that Bruce was too stubborn to rest. When he couldn't convince Bruce to pass on sparring, he resorted to you: "an objective spectator." Alfred had sounded pleased. Bruce had looked about ready to suplex him.

You head over anyway, ignoring the protests of the injured so you could kneel and survey the damage. "Can you walk?"

Bruce doesn't meet your eyes. He forces his body to stand, but you can easily tell he's favoring a side. You reach a hand up and pinch his injured calf, hearing him hiss through his teeth. "Of course it's going to hurt when you do that." He sounds childishly annoyed. Alfred is fighting a smile from his spot next to you.

"I don't understand. You're head of the company, you can afford to take a few days off. Even chair rest is still rest."

"Ah, but there lies the conundrum," Alfred pushes himself up to his feet, "he cannot sit still."

Bruce extends his hand to you, still avoiding eye contact. You hesitate but take it anyway, and the ease with which he hoists you to your feet is a bit disorienting.

Since your agreement with Batman, you were forced to be patient. After all, there were more pressing matters in Gotham besides your own ticking time bomb. He'd promised that he'd get back to you soon about Bruce and, until then, you would have to grin and bear it.

Alfred excuses himself to get busy with lunch the minute Dory enters with the groceries, leaving the two of you alone in the middle of the living room. "As your doctor," you begin, "I can't in good conscience let you keep pushing your body past its limit."

"It barely hurts anymore."

You bend as if you're about to grab at his leg again and he takes a step back, annoyed—if not offended, "You have no record of chronic pain. No record of serious past injuries at all. Yet you strain yourself doing... what, exactly? Sparring all day? You may be young, Bruce, but your body isn't indestructible."

You get the feeling he's heard this before, bristling like a scolded cat as you stare him down, "I'm fine," he brushes past you toward the table he and Alfred moved to the far end of the room, grabbing a sweating glass of water, "Alfred's just being... Alfred. He worries too much."

"I worry," Bruce raises a brow as he takes a swig and you clear your throat, "you said you need to be reminded to care of yourself. Well, that's my job now. Not that the hospital couldn't use more of your money but it's not worth the pain you'll be in." Bruce leans against the table, one leg crossed over the other. You approach, briefly taking note of the water that dribbles down his chin. "I'm starting to think you're just a masochist."

"Yeah? How do you figure?" His lip twitches up into a smile.

You open your mouth but the thought stops you cold. You were going to say, "Because I know someone just like you," but then you're transported back to that fateful morning where you first met. Bruce and all his... familiarity. The wild speculation of your exhausted mind. All of which, at the time, overlapped perfectly. Yet now that you knew them both better, they were worlds apart to you. Except for that one thing.

What was it that set them apart, again?

Your eyes drift up to Bruce's. "I get your type at General sometimes," you divert, "real pains in the ass."

Bruce steps closer to you with his glass abandoned on the table, "And your type can't seem to leave well enough alone."

You prickle. If it weren't for the fact that he was so clearly teasing you, you'd have lingered on the almost double meaning, "The fact you think this," you raise your foot and tap the side of Bruce's injured leg; his eyes narrow, "is well enough further proves my point. You need rest."

Bruce rolls his shoulders back; his compression tee clings to every muscle as he does, drawing your attention for a brief moment. "I'll think about it."

Your jaw drops. Bruce smiles. You feel a white hot flash of irritation that's wiped away when Alfred reenters the room, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, eyes fixed on you, "Will you be staying for lunch?"

Before you can say no, Bruce interjects for you, "Yes. Thank you, Alfred." Then he turns to you, pats your arm like a friend, and pushes you in the direction of the kitchen, "I'm gonna shower. Make yourself at home."

You stumble over yourself, regaining balance just as Bruce's head disappears over the top floor banister. How quickly he could retreat when leaving you to the lions.

But Alfred is in a good mood today. Better than usual, actually. The hair on your neck stands on end as you follow him to the kitchen, preparing for the good mood to sour now that it wasjust the two of you, but it doesn't come. You watch him hum a little tune as he fixes up some vegetables to sauté.

You even find yourself getting comfortable at the island when he breaks the silence, "I appreciate what you're doing for Bruce... regardless of its efficacy. It's nice to know someone else has common sense in this house." Alfred sets down four empty plates at the breakfast table.

You take note of his tone, an improvement from his barely concealed dislike from weeks before. You take that as a small victory for today, "It's like arguing with a brick wall. How have you managed it all these years?"

"Like a soldier." Without asking, he fills a glass to the brim with water and hands it to you.

"Right. You're a veteran." Your observation gives him pause, the food he tends to at the stove crackling away. "I can tell. I've treated a lot of veterans so I can spot them from a mile away now."

Alfred snorts, straightening his shoulders. "I served as a young lad. Eventually retired and came here, took on the job as the Waynes' butler and bodyguard. I've been with them for quite some time. Since before Bruce was even born."

"You practically raised him."

"Rather... clumsily, might I add," Alfred glances at you and you're surprised to see him bashful, genuinely, "protecting him, I could handle. Raising him... well, that was another matter entirely."

"But you did a pretty good job. I mean, he's accomplished a lot. Especially with the mayor. I imagine that's why he's working so hard: really seems like he's dedicated to restoring his father's legacy."

You can't help the little hook you throw out.

Right before the Mayor was elected, when a bomb shook the penthouse of 1939 Kane St., Edward Nashton had taken to the airwaves to out Thomas Wayne as a cold-blooded killer. Not long after, the man who'd pulled the trigger was shot dead in the street before he could be brought to justice. That would bring anyone out of hiding.

Wayne Enterprises inevitably challenged the claims, Bruce Wayne had taken to his father's defense in an impassioned press conference that even you tuned into, and Gotham General made the decision to keep his father's statue in the courtyard.

It was never ruled out, though. After all, all of the Riddler's other exposés were true. But there was no paper trail. Nothing but he said, he said, and with everyone involved dead, it was Bruce Wayne's word over a zealot who'd flooded the city.

You take a sip from your glass to let Alfred ruminate on his reply. He doesn't raise his eyes to you again, "Precisely."

"I've been keeping a close eye on him in the news. His philanthropy this past year has been really remarkable." That was a bold-faced lie. You'd been keeping an eye on him for the past few weeks. Everything else you knew about Bruce Wayne's newfound appreciation for the poor and needy came from Em. "Some of the people at the party, however..."

"Councilman Roberts, was it? He was awfully spirited from what Master Bruce relayed to me."

The very mention of his name makes your blood pressure spike, "The guest list was very diverse."

Alfred transfers the cutting board to the sink, "Master Bruce has his reasons. He's become rather fixated on the state of political affairs. First behind the scenes, and now..."

"Now center stage." You finish for him, swirling your glass. "Think he'll run for office one day?"

Alfred looks somewhere between amused and horrified.

It would be natural. Thomas Wayne had almost done it. Why not Bruce? It'd be a comeback story for the ages if someone didn't try to kill him again.

"I'd rather he keep out of it. Being in a position like that has never been his true calling."

"Yeah? And what is?"

Alfred doesn't look like he wants to say. He scrubs at the surface of the wooden board, absentmindedly brushing the same spot clean over and over. His eyes catch yours for a split second, just as quick as the smile that he flashes when the answer finally spills out of him, "Altruism."

You and Alfred don't talk much more until Bruce comes down. Dory joins you all at the table soon after and, rather awkwardly, you find yourself having a quiet lunch with the Waynes. Hooks abandoned. Fish not caught.

You wait for what feels like hours, but eventually he arrives.

His car is an absolute monster. It growls as it pulls up beside you in the withering glow of street lights, and if it weren't for said lights, it would blend into the shadows almost completely. The raindrops that dot the hood help catch the light on the deep black paint job.

You look for the door handle but it opens for you. Inside, you see Batman with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. You swallow. This is new territory.

You throw your bag in first, then climb into the passenger seat, very aware of the pocket knife stuffed in the pocket of your scrubs. You go to close the door and it closes for you all on its own. Behind you is an intimidating engine that vibrates through your every bone and muscle, and when you look to the driver, he is staring straight ahead. A few beats pass as you try to keep your teeth from chattering, "Do the seat belts move on their own, too?"

Batman looks at you from his peripheral. Then—twisting in his seat—he reaches across you to retrieve the seat belt, dragging it across the front of your body until it clicks at your side, "'Fraid not."

Despite all the rumbling of the car engine, it's a smooth ride through the city. Even the littering of pot holes and uneven pavement doesn't ruin it. Still, it does nothing to quell your nerves.

You feel small, sinking into the passenger seat built for people wearing a lot more armor than you. You also note that there's nowhere for your legs to go underneath the seat. You bump the solid obstruction with the backs of your sneakers but can't make out what it is.

There are other weird things you notice when you start looking. Starting where your shoulders rest are six holes going down the seat, three on each side, all a foot apart from the last. You press your finger into one of the holes and feel hard metal on either side of the gap. Upon further inspection, Batman's seat has it too, "What are these for?" You ask.

Batman doesn't need to look at you to know what you're messing with, "Restraints."

You recoil, "I beg your pardon?"

"I could show you."

"I'm- sorry, what..." You bend at the waist to feel the metal plate beneath the seat and recognize that there are holes along the sides there too.

"In case I need to bring someone along who's less than willing. Metal bars are installed in the seats. Only I know how to activate them."

"Why your seat too?"

"In case someone tries to steal the car," he makes a turn into one of the boroughs and you realize you're getting close to your destination, "but I've considered putting a trunk in the back for... passengers."

"And where do you get the money for such... modest mods?"

At that, Batman does not answer you. You figured he wouldn't. There were a hundred answers he could give you that would surely, most definitely give his identity away. It doesn't stop your brain from beginning to wander.

It doesn't get very far before you're pulling up into the alley between two houses, shrouding the car in the shadow of Joey Russo's home.

It's not as nicely kept as the other houses on the street, and its age doesn't do it any favors. A lot of the off-white paint has been chipped off or discolored over the years. There's a piece-of-junk car in the driveway that looks like it works, but just barely. The lawn has outgrown the neighbors', kept at bay by patches of dead grass where you can tell someone had gone to town with weedkiller. There are old, faded garden decorations around the front porch. Some gnomes with their ceramic hats caved in, a wind chime missing most of its chimes.

You're wandering out of the alley and into the harsh, orange beam of the streetlight when you feel Batman's hand roughly drag you back into the dark. You're about to ask what the problem is when your eyes catch the side of the house.

There's a little window with its grey curtains shut, a dead flower limp on the sill. Next to the window is a backdoor cracked open.

You do not protest when Batman presses up against the side of the house and moves you behind him. There are dogs barking, cars driving by, faint sirens in the distance, but you can't hear anything from inside.

You watch as he presses his hand to the door and slowly pushes it open, peeking in from a safe distance into the dark. Most of the windows are blocked out by sheer curtains, and no light in the house is on from what you can tell.

Batman is a hulking thing, always, but every step is feather-light on the weathered floorboards as you both enter. There's no sign of Russo, even though the house feels warm. Like it'd been lived in recently. Your heart picks up as you swear you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye, but it's just the wind picking up one of the curtains.

You so desperately want to ask him what he's thinking but your voice is stuck in your throat, the thought crashing down upon you that you are here, that somewhere in this house is the man who had ensured you'd be here today (in nearly all the ways that that could apply), and that it was not so far behind you as you might've hoped.

And were you to get an answer—any answer—from Russo tonight, it would not change the fact that your name was still on Bruce Wayne's payroll.

You feel sick to your stomach all over again.

When the living room is clear, you're simultaneously relieved and terrified when Batman leaves you to scope out the adjoining dining room. The house is silent aside from your breathing.

It's a few moments alone that does it; you start to feel another wave of anxiety. It had been a few minutes, hadn't it? Maybe. A minute at least. You're not confident enough to go looking for Batman, and you fear calling out to him would just detrimentally unsettle the atmosphere. You listen for where he might be, any creaks in the floors boards, but there's nothing.

Just as you're about to step into the dining room yourself, something moves out of your peripheral again. Only this time, you realize too late that it's not the curtain.

You barely register the pain at first—the skin of your upper arm splitting in half—but then it's white-hot and you're choking on a cry before you can stop yourself. Something had rushed at you, a person. You shakily touch where they'd cut you.

Was it a knife? It had to be, with how cleanly it tore your skin. Your brain jumps to the next question: was it covered in anything? Would you get infected?

You stumble back and reach into your pocket for your own knife with a little more urgency. The person rushes at you again with something akin to a battle cry and you narrowly dodge their raised weapon, only the sound of it ripping through the curtains tells you it wasn't just another delayed reaction.

You slash at their back while they're still turned and manage to actually make a cut before jumping back. It's not enough, though. Your attacker spins and even though the light has now turned them into nothing but a silhouette, you can feel their crazed gaze on you.

It feels boiling. It feels personal.

Their breathing is ragged, panting from more than just the fight. It sounds like they're foaming at the mouth, rabid and wild, as they spit at you, "You should've died with your little bitch of a friend when you had the chance."

The anger in their voice stuns you before the words do.

They come at you again and you sidestep them once more but it's staggered, allowing the tip of their weapon to slice your cheek open. When you cry out this time, you yell for Batman.

You don't have any concept of time right now, but as you fall to the floor, you swing at your attacker's ankle, hoping to cut a vein, when you feel Batman rush past you and directly into your attacker.

They both crash into the coffee table, glass and wood shattering in a cacophony. You watch through burning eyes as the two wrestle each other, keeping your hand pressed to your arm to still the bleeding even as it slips against the skin. Batman has them pinned when your attacker starts wildly kicking, and one of his feet hits Batman hard in the leg. You don't expect it to be the leverage he needs, but it's enough to daze Batman—he looks suddenly awash with pain—and that's all the attacker needs to slip out from beneath him and head out the back door.

Your heart stutters. How hard did he have to hit him through the suit for it to cripple him so easily?

Batman tries to recover, tries to deploy the grapple gun in his gauntlet to trip him, but he slips into the alleyway just narrowly. Batman is after him in an instant.

You force yourself up from the floor to follow after him, when you realize that within all that commotion, no one else in the house made themselves known.

You stumble up the staircase, haphazardly swiping at the wall for light switches that might help clear the spots in your vision. "Russo!" You call out, and your voice is shaky. You realize you're trembling.

There are too many doors on the upper floor but there is one that is cracked open. You rush toward it first, shoving it open with your good shoulder.

And there, to confirm your worst suspicion, is proof.

You've had enough training in your field not to immediately vomit at the sight even as the smell overpowers you. He's lost weight and he looks smaller than he had been when you were just sixteen. Laying on the floor, drenched in his own blood, Detective Joey Russo isn't the crystal clear picture you'd preserved in your head these past 17 years.

You make it only a few steps before falling to your knees beside him. It's clear he'd passed from the stab wounds not long before you'd arrived and there's just so many. His chest, his stomach, his arms and legs and skull—his face had taken the worst of it. Whoever had done this had been furious.

You can barely bring yourself to stare into his eyes but when you do, you sob. You try to look anywhere else but your eyes just catch on pictures of him on the wall, happy, smiling, with a wife and a kid who leave no traces of themselves in this room.

It's just him. All alone here.

You sway a bit as you reach a hand up to shut his eyes but the blood on your fingers stops you. You realize that you've left a trail on the way up here, and as your eyes retrace back to the bedroom door, you see Batman standing there looking down at you.

He doesn't ask, just walks over to you and hoists you up to stand, forcing you to lean into him for support.

The time between him finding you and the walk downstairs passes in a muddy amount of time and you're stumbling into the hood of his car as your head swims.

You must be losing a bit of blood.

Batman presses a hand to your arm. His other hand goes to your cheek and you flinch away at the sting.

You watch him dizzily. He reaches down to the bottom of his cape and rips a strip off to tie around your bicep. "GCPD is on the way. We have to get you stitched up."

"If only there were a surgeon around." Batman doesn't find your joke funny. Neither do you, all things considered.

The doors open on their own again and he sits you in the passenger seat, leaning it back as far as it'll go before buckling you in. You think you feel his hand linger on yours before he abandons you for the driver's side. The thrum of the engine is the least of your concerns now.

You're halfway down the street when you mumble, "He said... I should've died."

"Stop talking." He doesn't say it with menace, or at least not the kind where you actually mean it. It's all bark and... worry, you think.

You hate the smell of your own blood, which is funny because it smells about the same as everyone else's and usually that's just fine for you. Or maybe you're still smelling Russo's.

You think of your attacker. About what they said. That you should've died with your "little bitch of a friend". It's too convenient to not be—one of the street lights you pass is far too bright and you have to shut your eyes to keep the thought going—be about her. And why her? Why Russo? Why now?

17 years of nothing. And now everything at once.

"Russo," your voice is weaker, "we gotta go back for him."

"Stop talking! I'm trying- shit." This is the most panic you've ever heard in Batman's voice before. The most fear. He hadn't been this worried when he was dying on your living room floor. "Please." He begs.

You're of sound mind enough to know what he's really asking. You should know, even as you sway in and out of consciousness.

You conserve what little energy you have left to focus on the side of his face. His jaw forever clenched. Eyelashes long enough to catch the city light on. And although it's not entirely clear from the angle you're laying at, you search out the blue of his eyes as his face turns to look at you. It's the last thing you see before you give in.

When you come to, you are laying in a hospital bed with a throbbing arm and an equally throbbing cheek. Your scrubs are still in tact, even with the bloodstains down the front and sides. The knees of your pants are stained too, and you are harshly reminded that this blood doesn't belong to you.

The next thing you notice is Em sitting in the chair beside your bed, head thrown back in a peaceful nap. She must've heard—or seen, you don't recall getting from the car to here—and came to keep you company. You'd reach over to tap her knee if it were your good arm's side. The next thing you notice after that is that there is someone else in the room with you two.

It takes a second, but you remember him: a kindly face even with the cloud of disturb that hangs over him. When he sees you're awake, he gets up from his position against the wall and approaches the other side of the bed, "Detective James Gordon," he introduces himself, nodding to you, "we met at the precinct before."

Your voice comes out scraggly, "I remember you."

He flashes you a quick smile, "Well, I'm happy to see you're alright. You lost a bit of blood, but your friend—" A pen materializes in his hand and he points it at Em, still dead to the world, "—said it was just a few stitches."

"Are you here to arrest me?"

He's trained well enough not to look shocked, but you see his expression shift, "Why would I arrest you?"

You swallow, looking down at your scrubs once more, "I assume you're not here to talk about our mutual friend."

James nods. "We examined Joey Russo's home. We found, among other things, your DNA on the scene. Blood in the living room and... upstairs bedroom."

You pinch your pants leg, trying to get at the skin so you could keep the churning of your stomach at bay. Anything to distract yourself from the very vivid image of Russo's lifeless eyes.

James clicks his pen and you focus back on him. He's got a small notepad in his other hand with a few words already written down. You wonder what he's written about, what he's thinking about you right now. "From what I understand, you dropped by the precinct recently asking for the whereabouts of Russo and were denied given his retirement. You mentioned that you were inquiring about an old case involving yourself, is that correct?" James continues after your nod, "You brought this up to the Batman too."

"Yes," your voice wobbles, "I asked if... he could help me."

"And?"

"He said no."

"But you were both there tonight. So, what happened? Why were you looking for Joey Russo?"

You lean up on your good arm, allowing your legs to swing from the bed so you could sit upright in front of James. One glance over your shoulder tells you Em is still asleep, "I told him it was urgent. I had reason to believe confidential information about the case had been leaked to someone. I wanted to confront him, find out if he... was the one that leaked it."

"The case being part of your sealed juvenile records, correct?" James casts a look over you, somewhere between pitying and skeptical, "given your involvement in this situation, I was given access to this record. Detective Russo worked your case 17 years ago, and was, in fact, the person to get your records sealed in the first place. Along with... three others, I believe. And you believed someone had unauthorized access to it?"

"I know- I know. I know they did."

"Can you tell me the name of this person?"

Detective Gordon seems trustworthy. Batman trusts him, you can tell that much. It's just the saying it out loud part that trips you up, "My, um... my employer. Not Rudy, but Bruce Wayne. I'm his personal doctor. I became aware he had this information and wanted to check with Russo myself before I said anything."

James doesn't bother hiding his intrigue this time. His eyebrows shoot up a bit when you say Bruce's name, "Right. And... do you have proof that he has this information? A picture or a recorded conversation, a witness even?"

Of course not. You'd been happy enough to get out of that penthouse without being caught. Your silence is answer enough. James writes something down on his notepad and nods at you, "Well, a single person—especially not a civilian employer—should be able to access something that's not public record. Even Russo couldn't, having been retired. I can't imagine Russo was the one to give him that information unless he just had a file lying around, and I doubt he did. He never revisited that case before he retired in any capacity."

"Is there any way Bruce could have accessed it?"

"There's plenty of ways if you have an in somewhere and the leverage to do so, but this is all speculation. I can look into it, though. See if anyone's accessed the file recently, sniff around. If you come across anything solid, let me know."

You doubted you would. After that night, those files had probably gone into a room with lock and key.

"There was something else that I wanted to talk about, though," James shifts closer to you, "Our mutual friend assured me that you've never been to Russo's house before tonight, and that he had been with you the entire time you were there. From what I understand, there was someone else in the house with the two of you. Do you have any idea who he might've been?"

"No, I... I didn't really get a good look at him."

"What about his voice? Could you describe it?"

"Uh, young. Sounded about my age." Your fingers grip the bedsheets tightly, "He said something. He said that... I should have died. Along with my friend."

James' eyes narrow on you, "Your friend?"

"Alex," you choke out, feeling a tear spill out of your eye, "I know he was talking about Alex."

"Hm. You think that's why he attacked you? He knows you?"

"But I don't know him."

James flips his notepad back a few pages, "There were eight people there the night Alex Villanueva was murdered, including herself and you: your three friends, none of whom have stepped foot in Gotham since 2019. The shooter, Natalie Young. Her younger brother, Dimitri Young. And a fellow member of their gang, Lucien Goulding. Natalie was killed in a shootout 17 years ago, Goulding is currently in prison, and Dimitri... he should be serving life in prison right now."

Your brows furrow, "Should?"

"He and several other inmates were reported missing from Arkham five days ago."

Your mouth goes dry. You squirm in bed with a sudden urge to take off running and never look back. Maybe you'd aim for your mom and dad's in New Jersey, or maybe the Atlantic.

You remember when Dimitri was a head shorter than you, had yet to sprout up so young. You remember what it was like looking at this kid not much younger than you, green eyes watering, curled up on the concrete as Alex kicked and punched and bled him until he could barely limp home.

And how he looked when Natalie came for you. Still a kid.

"Bat said he was about 5'11, 210 pounds, green eyes, shaved head and tattoos. A bit different from what he was when you last saw him. It makes sense you don't remember."

"He wanted to kill me." You whisper.

James—he's an angel, really—gives you a moment to let it sink in. "We want to put a security detail on you. We have strong reason to believe Dimitri was the one to kill Russo, and it's very possible you were next on his list, but I don't think he anticipated you being there tonight... which might've saved your life."

You shake your head, "Batman saved my life."

The detective smiles, "Twice in a row might make him your guardian angel." The both of you turn when you hear Em stir awake from behind, and James goes to dismiss himself, "Well, thank you for your time. You should probably be heading home to get some rest soon, but if you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know." James hands you a business card, "And I'll look into Bruce Wayne for ya. Could be something there. Our mutual friend might know. Take it easy."

"Wait," you call, before he can get out the door, "Russo. He had a- a kid. A son. And a wife, I think. They weren't at the house. Are they okay?"

James looks a little pained as he answers you, "No... uh, his son was murdered a while back. His ex-wife's been living back home in Boston ever since. She's been notified."

There isn't much else to say after that, so he ducks his head as a final goodbye and exits the room, raincoat swaying behind him.

You're awoken by an incessant ringing about 24 hours later.

Popping one eye open, your brain takes in the shadowy lighting of your living room, blinds still halfway up from when you'd first returned home early that morning. Judith had caught you slumped outside of your apartment door and flanked by two officers—roused by the sound of you coming home late—and had helped you to your couch, poured you a glass of water, and stayed with you until the painkillers put you to sleep.

Frankly, you gave yourself permission to lie and rot today. But the ringing would not stop.

You grab your phone, uncaring of the caller, and accidentally press it to your cut cheek with a hiss, "Yes?"

You expect it to be Em, checking in to see if you were still alive. You also expect it to be your mother, checking in to make sure you still planned on staying in Gotham. You even expect it to be Rudy (who had been just about on the verge of tears when he saw you with a busted cheek).

It's none of them. "Can I see you?"

You place the voice instantly, actually going breathless. "I'm- what's... what's wrong?"

Sitting up hurts like a bitch and you realize that you're about two hours past your scheduled Tylenol. You inhale through your teeth and try to gather your bearings.

"I got... stabbed," Bruce sounds guarded, but it shockingly doesn't come across like that's because of the stabbing, "I need your help."

"Jesus! You need to call 911. Or- or get one of your ten million drivers to take you to the ER, or call a fucking helicopter to-"

"The tower, can you come? Now?"

You weren't supposed to be driving. The cops had brought you home, and you very much did not want to ask for that favor. You drop your forehead into your palm, massaging your temple with your thumb, "How deep is it? Did you stop the bleeding?"

"I've got something on it. I just need you to stitch me up."

You glance around the room, hazy, and reach for your water, "I'll need a ride. Can't drive right now."

"He's waiting outside." The line goes dead.

You don't believe him until you go to open your apartment door and see a suited man leaned against the opposite wall, nodding politely at you. You must look like you've sprung from the dead after last night, but no one makes a comment about it. The two officers on either side of the door nod to you, "Says he's a driver for Bruce Wayne and that you'd know what he was here for. His ID checks out, but we're gonna have to tail him if you go with him."

You shut the door and look through the peephole, but the driver looks comfortable waiting.

You'd wonder how Bruce knew you'd need a ride before you said as much, but it was clear by this point that he knew everything about you.

You probably shouldn't go. Not until Gordon looked into him, or Batman. Right?

You root around in your coat pocket for the phone Batman had given you and send a quick text to his number.

Going to Wayne's. Tell Gordon to hurry up with a warrant.

You pop two pills and pull on your coat.

When the elevator doors part, you drag yourself down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the main room. Alfred nor Dory is anywhere to be seen, but with it being past 10 at night, you can only imagine they're off to bed by now. There is just a single light coming from the kitchen, and when you turn to the breakfast table, there is Bruce. Waiting.

He doesn't look at you when you approach, however. One of his hands is holding stained gauze under the neck of his shirt, and the other is gripping the table with white knuckles. You wash your hands at the kitchen sink, then round up on his left side where he's pressing against the back of his shoulder, just out of reach for him to stitch himself. You fear he would've tried had you not answered the phone.

Or, God forbid, come to you.

He looks up when you're right in front of him, scanning you quickly, "Are you okay?" He doesn't sound all that surprised to see you like this. It raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You pull the neck of his shirt down to survey the damage, for lack of a good explanation, "I'm certain I've got a better excuse than you." Bruce shifts when you move his hand away, exposing the bloody flesh that makes you wince. You set your things on the table and command him to lift his shirt. He hesitates. "What is your excuse?"

"Got caught off guard."

"Where?"

Slowly, Bruce slips his shirt off, allowing you to see the full expanse of his back. There was the angry red stab wound, but there were other things too: moles and beauty marks scattered across his skin that paled in comparison to the several jagged lines across his shoulders and lower back—pink raised skin where it looked like he'd been cut before. Cuts that had healed years ago. You hover your fingers above one and realize they're shaking. "You never told me you and Alfred fight with knives."

"We don't," he glances at you over his shoulder but looks away just as quickly, "some of those scars are from martial artists I trained with in Thailand."

"Some?" You see so many, and those are only the ones that leave visible scars.

"Others are from the Russians."

You begin to lightly clean around his wound and ready the anesthesia but, despite the fact that he cannot see it in your hand, he waves it off completely, "Are they... the people who gave you this?"

He goes silent again. You feel like you should stop asking questions at this point, but they itch at your throat.

He wouldn't call you here to fix this unless he had nowhere else to go.

When you make the first stitch and he doesn't flinch, your eyes flit to his other scars. Martial arts training, he said. The second stitch and still no response. On the third stitch, you press your thumb against the edge of the wound and push down. He actually swears at you as blood dribbles out of the wound, and the hand that had been gripping the table reaches back to grab your lower thigh, effectively bringing the operation to a halt.

You shove his hand off, "What the hell happened? Your hands, your leg—that was easy to explain. But this?"

He has the audacity to glare at you over his shoulder, "I don't pay you to ask questions."

"No, you don't. And yet you could've hired anyone but you hired me. Even though..." You trail off, eyes blazing, because you're not feeling that confident, "the least you can do is tell me what happened."

Bruce holds your gaze until you feel your knees begin to wobble in place. For once, he doesn't look like a wide-eyed, nervous animal in front of you. He looks angry.

Then it's gone. Bruce rolls his shoulders back and you watch the needle, still hanging by its thread, roll against his muscles. More blood seeps from the wound as your hands itch to get back to work. "One question," he starts, looking away from you, "the night of the party, upstairs. You told Alfred no one got on the elevator. But you did, didn't you?"

You swallow. "He said it was broken."

"Be honest with me and I'll be honest with you."

"About anything?"

From behind, you can see Bruce's jaw twitch just so, "Everything."

You step closer. Taking your needle, you resume the suture, "A question for a question, then. To keep it fair."

"Alright."

"Tell me what happened."

"I was looking for someone."

"Who were you looking for?"

"That's another question."

"Fine," you try not to take your frustration out on his skin, "I did. Who were you-"

"Dimitri Young." You still in your stitching. It feels like your heart is inside your head, thumping against your skull with every beat. "What did you see down there?"

You have to rake your petrified brain for context, having nearly forgotten everything that had come before... before... "I- I was... nothing." Bruce hisses through his teeth and you realize that you're just pressing the needlepoint into his skin mindlessly. "Files. A computer. A car underneath a sheet, some tools, a motorbike. A TV playing the news." You don't bother with hiding it now, "How do you know about Dimitri?"

"Because I know about you. Why did you go down there? Not knowing what you might find?"

It takes all that you have to keep the burning tears at bay, "Because I don't trust you. Because everything about this has felt off. I needed to know what you were hiding. What are you gonna do with what you know?"

Bruce takes a moment as if he's thinking about it, but when he answers you, you're for once certain of his honesty, "Nothing. I might set it on fire, if that's what you want."

"You could have another copy lying around. Or a way to access it again."

"I could. But I don't. And I wouldn't want to." He turns his head over his shoulder and you are frozen under his stare, "I'm being honest with you."

"How did you get it?"

"That's another question."

You complete the next few stitches with a little more force than needed, "Then ask me something."

"Why did you take the job if you didn't trust me?"

You laugh humorlessly, "Because I knew the pay would be fucking ridiculous. How did you get my file?"

"You wouldn't have turned me down the first time if that were true."

"Answer me."

"Be honest with me, I'll be honest with you. Why'd you take the job?"

"Because-" You choke, "you... sent me those ridiculous flowers and a handwritten note." Bruce's head tilts, you choke out more, "And when I asked you why you offered me the job, you said that it was because I noticed you were hurt when no one else did. And I said it felt like more than that. I think- I have been trying to get an answer."

Bruce studies you. He must believe you because he finally answers your question, "Russo had nothing to do with it."

"Who did you pay to get it for you, then?"

"That's-"

"Just ask me, God damn it." You finish off the suture and bite off the thread.

"Why did you turn your life around?"

You'd thought about that a lot after that night. The simplest answer was right there, but if you were being honest with yourself (and you were being more honest than you would've liked tonight), you really didn't want to die. "I wanted to live. That's what I'd always wanted. Even though I... really didn't act like it. I never wanted to live more until that moment." This time when you lock eyes with Bruce, you don't want him to look away. Maybe it's because he's defeated you, broken your pride, whatever. Right now, you want to see him.

You don't have to ask again. You watch him rise from the table, flexing his back again, and though you want to scold him for irritating his stitches mere seconds after you've finished them, you just... don't have it in you.

And then he's standing face-to-face with you.

You think the lights and painkillers are deceiving you at first, but this close, you are certain: he is littered with scars and wounds color-picked from late twilight skies. His back doesn't even look this bad. It's always been more than bruised knuckles and leg sprains.

And it's familiar. All of it. Bruises and cuts new and old, the shape of him, the color. The stab wound is new but all of this is months (years) in the making.

The closer you get, the more it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes follow the length of his torso and then—your fingers press against his side, up against a healed gunshot wound. You brush your thumb against it. It makes you feel nauseous.

You look up and he's looking at you. Defeated. Relieved. You can feel the denial creeping in but it all clicks into place, doesn't it?

The bullet wound, the limp, the job offer, the sprained leg. You couldn't see it because, frankly, they couldn't be any more different from each other. And yet...

Bruce's hand covers yours and keeps it there.

That damned bullet brought you together. It had brought Batman to you, it had brought you to Bruce, and it had solidified in no small way that whatever had led you to this moment in time was years in the making. All because you wanted to live.

"Come with me." And Bruce leads you upstairs.

17 years ago.

"I think it could be good," Alex holds up the bottle to you, "if you're down."

You hate the taste of whatever she's giving you but it does make you tingly. You take a big swig and set it between you on the concrete, "You know I'll go wherever you go."

Alex grins, "That's the spirit!"

On Tuesdays, you and Alex like to watch the cars go by from the alley. It's between a Thai restaurant and a laundromat so it always smells good; if it's not the fabric softener, then it's the pho. It's where you always find her. After a few heart-to-hearts spent curled up on the ground with her here, it became "your" territory.

Claiming it didn't stop people from holing up inside and standing around a barrel fire, nor did it stop the laundromat owner nor the line cooks from coming out to smoke and take out the trash. But it did mean that you both liked it here. For lack of other places to go.

"You know that piece of shit from the Vipers won't take no for an answer?" Alex kicks at a rat that scuttles past, making sure it wouldn't take a bite out of her ankle.

"You're very popular, it's not a surprise."

"Shit, it's just cause they know my parents don't give a shit where I go. They're all like, 'Come join us! You could be one of our best! We'll pay you more in a day than you'd make stealing in a week!' but they don't talk about all the kids floating in the river when they try to do better for themselves."

"Like you'd let someone boss you around." You giggle, and Alex beams.

"No way in hell! I love my independence. See, I can take whatever I want whenever I want. Those sad fucks in the Vipers have to answer to some... some random guy they rarely ever see. Why would I want that?"

You'd seen the kids the Vipers recruited. There was no age limit, some as young as nine were happily making deliveries. It used to be a joke in your school that any kid with a front door would end up in the Vipers eventually.

You wondered if you would've ended up there too, had you not been with Alex.

Your makeshift gang of two which had grown by three in the last few months was less organized than the Vipers. It didn't pay unless you pulled your weight, and most of it was at Alex's discretion. For the most part, none of you moved without her. She was the head, the leader, and the only reason you could afford your new winter boots this month.

And you would truly follow her wherever she went.

You watch a few more cars pass. You press your head to the brick and let the sounds of the city light your nerves. That is until you feel a breeze where Alex had once been. You open an eye and find her inching further into the alley. "Hey," you call, but she turns and shushes you so your next words come out in a whisper, "where you going?"

She frantically waves you over.

You don't see what she's looking at until you get about halfway down the alley, but the voices are crystal clear at this point. There's a woman and a young boy standing off behind a dumpster, but when the woman catches sight of you and Alex, she shoves something into the boy's hands and dips around the corner. The boy, flustered, is just barely able to put it away before Alex is grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the light.

It becomes clear that he's not a young boy. He's about your age, maybe off by a year or two, but so thin and lanky that his puffer jacket engulfs him completely. Alex yanks his sleeve down to reveal a poorly done tattoo of a snake going up his upper arm, jagged and unfinished like he'd run off in the middle of getting it done. It didn't seem too far-fetched an idea: the guy looked 92 pounds soaking wet.

"You're on the wrong turf, kid." Alex warns, but you know her tone of voice is too final to be a warning.

The guy yanks his arm back, "Fuck off."

You realize what he was fumbling with when the woman had run. A small bag of something white, and a wad of cash sticking out of his pocket. You snort, "Dealing for the Vipers a little far from home, aren't you? You must be new."

The guy tries to escape but Alex grabs the hood of his jacket and drags him back, "We'll overlook the trespassing if you give us a cut."

"Leave me alone. This place doesn't belong to anyone." But as soon as he says it, Alex takes a hold of his dirty blond hair and yanks his face up to look at her. You go to grab his money while he's distracted but you don't expect him to brandish a knife until he slashes at you. He misses, but it sets Alex off.

She uses his hair to throw him into the side of the dumpster and you can see the thoughts rattling around his head upon impact.

"Right, everything belongs to the Vipers. Is that why your boss is still Falcone's little bitch?"

The guy is indignant against the taunts. He tries to slash at her but Alex is faster, always has been, and she has his wrist in a death grip before he can even get close. You watch her twist it back until he lets out a cry of pain, the knife clattering to the floor at your feet. You take it and hold it up to his neck, watching his eyes go wild between you and Alex.

"Give us the money and we'll pretend this never happened-" you start, but jump back when you feel something wet hit your cheek. You almost don't believe it, but the guy has some spittle dribbling down his bottom lip and a satisfied smile when you lock eyes with him again.

Alex wasn't just fast. You remember her standing up to your childhood bullies between classes and giving them shiners that she still bragged up to this day. It took a few years before you both stopped ending up with twice as many injuries, and a few more years after that before you stopped having bullies at all.

And this guy— maybe he didn't know what he'd gotten himself into and that extended to more than just this moment in time—was half the size of the guys Alex had beaten to tears in the past.

It does not surprise you that he crumbles to the ground with the very first punch to his gut. Alex hits hard first to make the fights quick, and so when her next punch lands on his nose, you know that something has been broken. With each kick to his gut, the tears free flow as if surely, the next hit will kill him.

You watch silently. Alex is unforgiving.

After a minute or two goes by, he is so beaten down that he wheezes every time he breezes. You're certain Alex has gone overboard but something in your heart swells at the thought that it was for you.

When all is said and done, you snatch the money from his jacket and he doesn't bother to stop you, head leaning against the ground as tears and blood and snot trickle into a puddle. For good measure, Alex snatches the drugs too, "Don't show your face in this alley again or you won't leave alive."

And you know this is a lie. A trick to make her bigger and badder. A threat that she would never follow through on. Because Alex always made herself look bigger, badder, scarier, deadlier. It's what protected you both on the streets. It's what made you follow her, what made your friends follow her.

Alex was everything, and you would follow her anywhere.

You ride in silence together down to the terminus. You feel much the same as you did the first time. Bruce pulls back the gate and you spill out into the dark, but much like before, the lights and TV kick on. The News 7 jingle plays, Bruce pads over to mute it.

You watch him stand a few feet away from you, avoiding your eyes as they sweep the floor. There are those same tools scattered about, hubcaps stacked on top of tires, wires going from one side of the room to the other. It looks just like you'd last seen it, only the car that had once been covered by tarp is now on full display. It gleams in the overhead lights, as much of a monster in clear view as it was in shadow.

He really wasn't shitting you.

When you still don't say anything, Bruce walks over to his desk. Underneath it is a crate full of folders, and you realize he's getting yours when he turns and holds one out to you. You take it, inching closer. Without a word shared, Bruce pulls up something on his computer and you nearly flinch when your mugshot is reflected back at you on one of the screens.

"Your record isn't accessible unless I use a workaround which isn't... legal, but it's how I found your file without Russo. The GCPD doesn't know." You peer at him from the corner of your eye, urging him to explain, "I taught myself how to get in."

Your eyes are welling up with tears the longer you stare at the younger version of yourself. Bruce continues, "I know what the record says. That they traced back a few robberies to you and your friends over the years, and that you'd had a run in with a Viper the night you met Russo. You helped track them down, took out a portion of the gang's operation, and your record was sealed. That's all."

"They didn't trace all of them back to us," you start, not really wanting to talk, "just some. There were more."

Bruce seems to sense that as he closes the record, "It's your turn. To ask, I mean."

You look at Bruce in the face and hate the softness there. You can't be angry, or numb like you wish you could be. Your chest is all twisted up with emotion with no one feeling staying for long, even if it would flare up again every once in a while. "Did you know about me before or after you asked me to work for you?"

"Before. After that morning, I couldn't stop... thinking about you. Truth be told, me and Alfred have been doing this alone ever since I started. Before you, he was the one that would stitch me up, kept me out of doctor's offices where someone might talk. But he was also running the company for me, and taking care of me, and worrying about me. I knew if I was going to commit to this, I would need to try and stay alive, and I always meant to find someone but it wasn't an easy decision to make. Until I met you."

You know it's his turn now, but you can't help asking, "And you didn't think... maybe the kid with a record would be a bad idea?"

Bruce cracks a smile, "I mean, the stitches never got infected." You would've laughed at that if you were in a better mood. "I wasn't always so understanding. But I imagine someone who's dedicated the better part of their life to saving lives has more than made up for it."

Your head automatically shakes, "I can never make up for what I did."

"You don't have to tell me everything," he begins delicately, "but I need to know what Dimitri is after. I need to know what he's thinking. You're the only one who can help me."

You blink away a few tears and plop into a stool by his desk, dropping your head in your hands. The memories suffocate you, rushing at you like a flash flood. You don't know where to start, let alone what you want to tell him. An hour ago, you were certain he was caught up in a Gotham mob, planning to use your history as blackmail for... something.

You can't quite reconcile the feelings you have for Batman with the face of Bruce Wayne. Or who you thought was Bruce Wayne.

But he was right. You were the best chance at catching Dimitri. You were the only one who could make it up to Russo.

You swallow at the memory of Russo's mutilated body, but then... you remember him in that police station. When you were 16 and wishing you were dead. You suck in a sharp breath, "I met Alex when I was a baby. I mean, we've known each other for a long time- knew each other. She and I used to be attached at the hip. She protected me from bullies and I would sneak out at night to listen to her vent about her parents, about Gotham. She fucking hated it here. I did too.

"Alex and I learned that if you want to survive, you have to be powerful. So we became powerful. You might not think a pair of 14 year olds are all that powerful in the grand scheme of things but when it was just us against the world, it was addicting. When we wanted something, we just... took it. We started off pickpocket-ting on the streets, usually assholes who could afford to lose a hundred or two. And then we started robbing places, small-time stuff, you know. Run down houses, apartments, swiping out of registers when no one was looking. If anyone gave us shit, we just turned tail and ran. It was hard enough trying to make ends meet for our parents, and we liked the thrill of it. We rarely ever got caught.

"Eventually, some of our friends from school joined us and we become a little piece-of-shit gang. God. We were like... fucking 15, running around the city like we were so big and bad. My parents had no clue what I was really up to but they knew something was wrong. I didn't care. I was with Alex and I would follow Alex anywhere. We had this little alleyway, right? Between a Thai place and a laundromat. That's where I could always find her. And one day, we were fucking around and caught some guy dealing back there. Alex got pissed. We tried to take his money but he defended himself. I said something... he spit at me. And Alex just lost it.

"She beat him into the concrete and I just... watched. This guy, couldn't even throw a punch if his life depended on it, and she just wailed on him. And I watched. And I liked it. I felt powerful. We felt powerful. I know, a pair of jackass teenagers hurting people for fun? We were pathetic. But it didn't feel that way, being with Alex. She was my best friend."

The tears are free-falling now and you don't even bother to wipe them away. It would feel cowardly. You couldn't hide from Bruce now, not anymore. Not if he wanted to believe in you. "We didn't know who this kid was, other than the fact he was a Viper. A young one, a weak one. We didn't think he'd even last a week. Most kids like him end up getting disposed of by the boss anyway. And then all five of us were fucking around in that alley again when they showed up: the guy, Dimitri, and his sister Nat and this other kid. All of 'em Vipers.

"Nat wanted the money and the drugs back. Kid had a black eye so I guess he'd gotten shit from his boss about it. Alex was... indignant. Refused. For once, I begged her to give in but she just wouldn't fucking listen. Of course she wouldn't, do you know how much I enabled her? We were on top of the world, why would she give in? And she really pissed Nat off with that, but then she started mouthing off and then... Nat shot her. Right in front of me. It was instant."

Bruce remains incredibly still. His lips part to say something but nothing really comes out. You keep on going, "I was so shocked that I didn't even move when Nat turned the gun on me. It was like... I don't know, it was like I couldn't quite believe she was dead. But I understood what happened. Logically. I saw it happen. I saw the bullet in her brain. And when Nat turned on me, I think a part of me just... didn't want to have to think about it. Like a coward. If it wasn't for our friends pulling me out of the way, I wouldn't... be here. Next thing I knew, I was at the GCPD getting investigated for murder."

"They thought one of you did it?"

"The cops that brought us in, yeah. They just so happened to be around the corner when we ran into them. By that time, Nat and Dimitri had run off. The cops thought it was some fight between the five of us and that one of us pulled the trigger, but they couldn't find the gun. That's when Detective Russo showed up."

"And he offered to get you a plea deal."

You nod, sniffling, "He told me... he said that he could tell I'd never seen something like that before. There was no way I could've done it. And when I couldn't even finish the whole story without choking up, he said... he said that in exchange for our help catching Natalie, he would make sure all the crimes they tied back to us were sealed and expunged."

"What about Natalie? How did they find her?"

"The GCPD had been looking into the Vipers for months. Vipers almost exclusively recruit minors because they're more loyal, but there wasn't a way to get in without putting some innocent kid in danger. So they had us look into it. We found one of their hideouts by the docks. GCPD wanted to get the kids out and into the foster system since a lot of them were orphans, like Natalie and Dimitri. But the ambush didn't take. They got a couple kids out but... a few died, including Nat. Last I heard of Dimitri, he got tried as an adult for killing a cop during the shootout. That was life in Arkham."

Bruce shifts closer, "Until he got out. And he came looking for Russo."

"He was just a kid, Bruce," your voice cracks, "he was just a kid. He couldn't even defend himself. And because we were assholes we got his sister killed and we got him put away. He was just a kid."

"So were you."

Something about the tender way Bruce says that makes you sob. For years, you've looked back on that moment with so much guilt, knowing how lucky you were to make it out of that situation alive and unscathed. How lucky you were to be taken seriously, to be cared for, for a detective like Joey Russo to show you a picture of his kid in his wallet and tell you that he would hate to see them in your position.

You were lucky that you got to fix your grades and go to college, study medicine, save lives, be here. Natalie didn't get that. Dimitri didn't get that. Alex didn't get that.

"You said... you said you hated Gotham. Why did you stay?"

You wipe at your cheeks, "I- I honestly... I wanted to. My parents made a deal with me that we would leave for New Jersey after I graduated but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't. I couldn't leave Alex. I couldn't leave the city, after all I'd done to it. In it. I wanted to leave like my friends because the guilt was so much but I felt obligated to fix it. I wanted to help people. Not hurt them. And I've worked hard to do better. I just can't leave. I don't want to leave."

What surprises you is the hand on your face afterwards. Bruce cups his your cheek. His thumb brushes away some tears, and it feels so unlike Bruce even though it's him, even though he's the one who cradled and comforted you after being held hostage, even though he was the one that stood on your fire escape and confessed that he trusted you, liked you even. Your brain just sort of stops there. You melt like putty in his hand. You realize you've been craving a gentle touch like this for a while.

"Then you won't have to," Bruce casts his eyes to the side, looking at where you laid your file on the desk. You can see the cogs turning beneath his furrowed brow, "I'll make sure of it."

"How?"

"...You won't like it."

[webslingingslasher]

just thinking of peter and trouble being married with their own house!!! ahhhhhhhhh can’t wait for the small moments with them

something as simple as a doctors appointment?

you mumble out a good morning when peter kisses your cheek, the repetitive hold music was about to drive you up a wall. all because they couldn’t find your old new documents.

‘who are you talking to?’ while he slightly blows on his mug, the coffee you poured for him still a little too hot.

‘doctor. they cancelled my appointment because im a ‘new patient.’ aka, they don’t know how marriage works.’

marriage, the term is still new enough it makes him smile. the gold on his left ring finger will slowly tarnish, but it will never leave.

‘no no, my last name changed. it’s under parker, now. p-a-r-k-e-r…. yes! that’s me.’ god, he’ll never tire of the reminder. you loved him so much you agreed to be with him forever, so much so you even decided to share a last name.

‘thank you very much, it’s still really exciting. okay, yes ma’am, at ten on the tenth, thank you again!’ you hang up and grin at your husband, ‘i swear, anyone will congratulate you on getting married. i’m starting to really enjoy the praise, like, hell yeah he put a ring on it!’

you look behind peter at the shared calendar on the fridge and jump from your seat to mark the time and date while it’s still fresh in your mind.

‘hey, do you think you could get the tenth off next month? they said i would need someone to drive me, but if you can’t i doubt may would have an issue with taking her new daughter in-‘

you’re spun around and in peter’s hold, waiting patiently for his answer, he skips what you asked. instead he’s giddy and running his hands all over any bits of showing skin.

‘thank you for marrying me.’

you look at him funny, ‘thank you for asking me.’ peter shakes his head, you don’t see it how he does and that’s okay with him. ‘i really love you, mrs. wife.’

‘i really love you, too. mr. husband.’ you lean up for a quick kiss and spin back for the calendar. ‘okay, so can you do the tenth or not?’

peter’s never been so in love before. ‘yeah. yeah, i can do the tenth.’

[idorukiss]

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon kinda thing of how I picture MC's relationship with Zayne could develop~ I'm not much of a writer but i very much plan to do ones for the other boys as well because the brainrot has consumed me, so please enjoy~ 1,039 words || You can also read it on ao3 ‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙

Xavier ・ Rafayel ・ Sylus

You are without a doubt the reason for Zayne's existence and his driving force all through school into becoming a Cardiac Surgeon. And all of that lead up to him finally becoming your personal doctor, everything he studied for is so he can finally fulfill his purpose to help you and your heart

At first, Zayne puts up a wall between you guys- trying his best to keep things as strictly professional as possible. Seeing your face in person again only brought back all the feelings he's boxed away and then some, and he was scared it would somehow come in the way of your treatment.

But he can't hold himself back for long, especially after you find yourself seeing him outside of the hospital more and more often. Going from quick hellos in passing, to checking out new Cafe menu items together, to even showing up at his place unannounced to make sure he isn't working on his day off. Somehow you've worked yourself into his daily life without any effort and everything just feels like that's how it was always meant to be

Of course your own feelings start to develop too, you aren't even sure when they first appeared. Could you have felt this way when you were both kids and didn't realize it till now? Or is it a result of getting closer and seeing so many different sides to him lately?? It all happened so naturally you almost didn't notice it at first until you sat there staring at his profile in the car one night in content silence and it clicked. You love this man with every fiber of your being

Nobody made any moves for the longest time, any plans you guys had made together were seemingly still platonic- much to the groans of those around you who were very aware about both sets of feelings. One night as he is walking you to your apartment door after spending the day together, you mention something coming up- Maybe its another Twinkle Toy's event, or even just a new movie coming out that you are dying to see. But he smiles as he listens to you excitedly talk about it, obviously deciding in that moment he was taking you to it no matter what

"So what time does it start?" "I think the site said 8pm" "Alright then, I'll pick you up at 5pm. Does that work for you?" "Why 5? We don't need to be the first ones to show up you know" He smiles at you "Well I figured it was only right to take you out to dinner first if we were going to be out that late. We don't have to if you don't want to though-" "No, dinner sounds great" you say with the biggest grin "Its a date then" he responds as he lifts up your hand pressing a gentle kiss on it before walking back to the elevator leaving you stunned

Did he just call it a date?! You spend the foreseeable future with your head in the clouds, practically floating with excitement for the date- which goes amazingly once it approaches. It's just like every other time you guys have hung out, but also nothing like it at the same time. He helps you in and out of his car and offers his arm to you while you walk side by side. Every little action he does is seen in a new light. There is no way you could ignore the flips your heart does every time you see his absolutely smitten face- not even aware of your own equally smitten look in return

And any plans from now on have all become official dates as well, with him treating you like an absolute princess the entire time. He never takes that next step forward though, only going as far as holding hands and gazing lovingly at everything you do. It looks like you have to be the one to initiate anything more at this rate

Once again he walks you to your apartment door, and he lingers just a moment before he turns back around and you grab his arm in that moment. Stammering a bit before giving a determined sigh and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. Out of sheer embarrassment you tried to enter your apartment quickly, but its your turn to get stopped. And this time its with his lips crashing onto yours. It was brief, way too brief, but absolutely electric- he apologizes and you shush him and give him the goofiest in love smile before you part ways for the night

Zayne is constantly in battle with himself as to not move too quickly or do anything that you might not be ready for. He usually lets you make the first move, or tests the waters in a way where you can take the lead in whichever direction you are most comfortable. And without a doubt, like with the first kiss you guys shared, as soon as you show him that you are okay with something he won’t hold back (of course always asking permission the next time)

Brief pecks goodnight, turn into deeper kisses in the car before you get out. He grabs your hand every chance he is able to as if its second nature to have your fingers linked between his at any given moment. You only had to invite him inside once at the end of a date before it was a given that after every subsequent date you would spend some time on the couch cuddling and making out before he went back home

Even when things started getting more intimate between you, he always made sure you were the one making the first move and continued with caution- always getting your consent before doing anything. It was touching knowing he cared so much about you, but sometimes you wished he would just stop holding back and have his way. There's nothing he could do that you would say no to at this point, you love and trust him with your entire being

You wouldn't change anything between you guys. You are Zayne's entire world, and he has easily become yours as well

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

<DAUGHTER> OF APHRODITE ♀ ISHIDA URYU X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 10: FEMINIZATION

🐙requested by: Anonymous. Hi Sashi, could you write day 10 (feminization) with adult! uryu? thank you, I loved the event's aesthetic! ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. adult! uryu. he is already a doctor. uryu wears one of the dresses he creates, and your underwear. he gets a hand and rimjob. 🐙 wc: 1,8k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

A room so clean and perfectly tide that almost blinds you when he opens the door; for the first time you are visiting Uryu’s home.

“Wow, I wouldn’t imagine your room looking any other way” you chuckle, amazed.

Uryu turns to you with his cheek slightly tinted in pink, and fixes his glasses before saying anything.

“I don’t like my stuff all over the place… sit down, please. I’ll bring you a towel” he informs, all so very solemnly.

You sit down on a very fluffy pillow on the floor; you are soaking wet as a downpour caught you in the middle of the street where it happened Uryu was passing by. As the gentleman he is, he couldn’t leave you there.

And you couldn’t say no, either way.

Uryu has always been a man you wanted to try; to bite, to tangled with. But his seriousness and perhaps shyness has always made it more difficult than with the rest.

“Here” he says, startling you almost shoving the towel in your face. “Let me search for some clothes for you” he continues, opening one of his wardrobes.

You smirk as you inhale the clean scent of that warm towel; he is gonna give you his clothes? Please do, Ishida-kun… I wanna wear a baggy shirt of yours, or perhaps blue shorts?

But you were wrong, and the very first thing you discover when you take the towel off your face is a very feminine dress on his hands being offered to you.

You tilt your head, confused. Where the heck did he got that? Is it from his girlfriend?

“I’m not sure it is your style; however, I believe it will look beautiful if you wear it. I sew it myself” he -proudly- communicates, softly insisting with his hands for you to take it.

“You sew it?! You still design clothes, Uryu? That’s amazing! I remembering you fixed my teddy bear back in school!” you chime, happily taking his creation into your hands. The dress, with a coquet style, indeed looks beautiful and glamorous.

He nods; proud and still ashamed, making his blue eyes to fix into the floor…

“Thank you, (Name). I’ll be outside, take your time to change” He immediately leaves; Uryu knows well that if it were for you, you would changed right in front of him… or maybe that’s what deep inside he wishes it happens.

Soon, you are ready. You look into the mirror to discover you look like an angel; the dress suits perfect and somehow it feels as it was made with your exact measurements… almost as if it was made for you.

You don’t call him right after, but instead, you take a quick look at the rest of the dresses he has hanging on that wardrobe. All of them as beautiful as the one you are wearing, but some have tiny waists it makes you wonder who are those for after all.

“Ready ~” you sweetly inform, opening the door and finding him waiting with his back against the wall right next the door.

His face changes instantly, as if he had seen an angel standing at the very entrance of his bedroom. Though, Uryu never imagined you were a devil in disguise, and he was about to find out…

You didn’t wait for him saying much and went right to clarify your doubts. “Ishida-san, who has such a tiny waist that can use those? May I ask to see them all?”

He smirks; his ego rising, proudly taking one of them to show you it’s his own waist from where he took those measurements after all.

“You… wear those?” you ask, amazed.

Uryu lets the dress fall into the ground; laying at his feet, pinkish, tulle fabrics and eyes opened in surprise… he has just fucked up.

“NO! NONONO!! I DON’T WEAR THEM! I JUST- I ONLY-!” he tries to excuse himself for something is not even bad nor wrong. His cheeks now become red as tomatoes, Uryu is not only ashamed but also desperate to let you know he in fact doesn’t wear those outfits himself.

You leer at him; this is it; he is about to be yours.

Walking slowly his way, his blue eyes shine brighter as they open even bigger. He swallows; perhaps he isn’t used to women approaching him this way.

You stop right before him, only separated by the dress laying in the floor in between your feet and his. Slowly, you crouch taking the hanger and standing back again.

“This dress, Uryu, is by far gorgeous” you sexily whisper, walking around his petrified body. From behind, you pass the dress and present it on top of him.

You let him soak the reflection on the mirror in front of him, and slowly you come closer to his ear to ask for a very special request.

“Would you try it for me, Uryu? I wish to see how it looks on you… please?”

He swallows; his hips seems to tense a lot more than before. Uryu bites the inside of his mouth before giving you any answer; flinching at the way your hand slides from his waist to his belly to press the dress against him.

“Y-yes…” he finally roughs out in between accelerating pulse and breathing.

“May I help you, then?” you answer back, placing the dress on his bed and then starting to unbutton his white shirt a button at a time.

His body, slowly relax. Your hands do wonders when it comes to soft touches. However, what is getting absolutely tense and hard, is exactly his sex. Sex that makes it difficult for you to lower his pants, sex you will absolutely enjoy in a matter of seconds.

When the young doctor is finally only covered by his underwear, you ask him to wait just a second. You walk around again, standing in front of him this time.

“You shouldn’t wear such short dress with unproper undies, Uryu-chan” you mumble, letting your panties fall down your legs. “Please, wear mine”

He blinks faster; women’s underwear too? such information and you coming closer with lace panties in your hands, already wore by you, made him surprisingly harder than ever before. His boxer briefs showing the wet consequences of his arousal; a wetness you can match.

Kneeled, you lower his underwear. Sex bigger than expected, a little veiny and definitely looking more than clean throbs so close to your face. It makes you wonder whether you should stop with this “feminization” play or simply taste the dripping precum coming from his tip already.

But Uryu seems to be more than willing to try your undergarments judging by the way his night blue are fixed in them. And if the boy wants it, you must give it to him…

Slowly but steadily, you slide your panties up his legs; his muscles softly spasm to your touch, almost shivering as you finally tuck the lace around his prominent hips. You relish; delightful anatomy, thin, lean, pale, easily markable.

Of course, due to his size and his hardness the panties sit tightly on him. But it is even more beautiful to see manhood hugged by delicate femininity. Gracious dichotomy, topped by how his manly hands, yet soft and loving, brush your hair off your face.

Smiling in slow motion, you stand back up, passing your hand on top of his bulge and into his tight stomach.

“Pass me the dress…” you ask. “Yes…” he whispers.

Soon, the pink fabric of his creation fall perfectly down his body. It only rests closing the zipper on his back. And you do, lustfully slow, up until his nape that you previously cleared with a peck that made you jolt once more.

The way it perfectly adjust around his tiny waist, making it stand out, turning him into the daughter of Aphrodite.

“Gorgeous…” you murmur into his ear, biting his earlobe right after.

“Do you like it, (Name)? you really think I love ?” he genuinely asks, it seems that he really enjoys this sudden “misgendering” turn.

“More than that, you look like a Goddess…” you let him know, because is true. He indeed looks like the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen before. Uryu has always been that man.

And such perfection that’s been served on a silver platter to you, deserves to be tasted. So, you push him softly towards his desktop. Your hips against his ass, your hand snaking to his sex that gets only freed from over the panties.

“Let me give you a treat for looking so precious wearing that dress” you inform, as you begin masturbating him while his hands both rest on his desk.

Uryu’s nails carve on the wood surface the faster you pump; his hips move, accompanying the motion of your ups and downs… he needs more, more, more… And more is what you will give to him.

You kneel without stopping the jacking off. Hidden underneath the fine and perfectly sewn ruffles of the dress’ skirt, you start placing soft kisses on the small of his back and then down his -perfect- ass cheeks.

And the more you kiss, the more his ass lifts like a natural reflex… ah, you want me to taste you, don’t you?

For some minutes you let his rock hard sex, that’s on the verge of explosion, alone. And you use your hands to move the panties to the side and spread his cheeks in such way your mouth can reach for his back entrance.

Perhaps, this is the very first time Uryu will experience this, but he is willingly desperate for you to do it. So much he is, that you simply pass your hand through the back of his thigh and it’s enough for his left leg to lift and get on top of his desk. In such position, it’s not only easier to eat him out, but also you can go even deeper…

And when your tongue finally lands on his little entrance he lets a sweet moan escape his lips. Maybe, even, sounding more on the feminine side, that makes you tremble, and you are sure a puddle of arousal had form underneath you.

Just as expected, he is not only clean, but also delicious. His hand, that happened to be delicate before, now pushes with a little more violence your head against his ass. A rimjob that’s making him almost fuck the desktop because of how much are now his hips moving back and forth. A rimjob that soon enough ends in total climax, making such a beautiful dress stained with warm seed.

“(Name)… can I go back to being a man, now?” he asks, panting.

“Hmm…” you silly think you have the right to decide still. Uryu takes the dress off; the panties ass well in a ripping motion. He is not playing the princess no more.

“Now, (Name)… will you be my princess?” he asks, pushing you to his bed, crawling in between your legs and taking his glasses off.

You swallow; you are about to meet his masculine side now… get… ready ~

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