#and she doesn’t especially like him or trust him

[imagines-r-s]

☆somewhere only we know☆

dr. jack abbot x reader

author's note: i will say, i have so much love for this fic. def one of my favorites that i've written, so i hope you all enjoy!! (also i might write the smut to this eventually, i don't know yet though friends)

wc: 7.9k

warnings: mutual pining, crazy tension, no one doing anything about their feelings, a bit of angst?, stubborn old man

(gif not mine)

You’re not sure how the nickname came to be, but at this point everyone was saying the same thing about Jack Abbot: he had become your bodyguard. Every time that there was any sign of harm near you, low and behold, he was no more than two steps behind you to back you up. Even if you weren’t in harm, he immediately jumped into protective mode. 

The first time that it happened was at the beginning of night shift. You always got there at least 10 minutes early, just so that way you were able to stop at the cafeteria and get your usual tea, while having long enough for it to be cooled down by the time that you dropped it at the nurses station - because for whatever reason, they made their drinks piping hot. 

Today though, you were running late. Not late to the extent that it interfered with the beginning of your shift, but late enough that your tea was still piping hot by the time you made it to the Emergency Department. Even if it was placebo, you needed at least some of your tea before your shift, but you weren’t able to do that, so you were practically dragging yourself around the Emergency Room. 

”What’s wrong with you?” Abbot asked, noticing the dragging of your feet as you paraded around the nurses station for a moment. 

“My tea was hot,” you grumbled, suddenly irritated at anything and everything, which only earned a confused look in response. 

“Is it… not supposed to be?” he said, carefully examining the contents of the thermal cup that sat in front of you. 

“I mean, it’s supposed to be hot, but the cafe makes it too hot sometimes and I usually get here with enough time for it to cool off and I-“ you paused, watching as he grabbed your small pink thermal and walked over to the lounge. “Abbot, I didn’t mean throw out what I already had.”

”I’m not, kid. I’m just getting you an ice cube or two so you can calm the fuck down. I don’t want one of my best residents dragging the whole shift.”

You simply looked at him for a moment, “you think I’m one of your best residents?” A smile slowly growing on your face. 

”Don’t let it get to your head, I just don’t want you burning your tongue.”

☆

Here and there more mundane things happened, but it still showed the care and consideration that he had for you. 

The next significant time that it happened was when a multi-patient trauma came and it was all hands on deck; all hands on deck including a particular surgeon that Abbot just could not get along with. 

”What are we looking at?” she asked, storming in as if she had been seeing this patient the entire time that you and Abbot had been working on her. It was a teenage girl that was struck by the car on the passenger side of the vehicle. 

”We got this one, Walsh. Pretty sure I heard someone needed a surgeon in trauma 3,” Jack said, not wanting to deal with Walsh at this very moment. He also had the perfect opportunity to teach you something new, but he knew Walsh would immediately interfere. 

”You can’t just put your trust in any resident, especially one you show favoritism to, Abbot. It’s not wise and could kill a patient,” she said, calmly. Even though her words didn’t bother you, you still hesitated for a moment when you were handed the scalpel. 

”As I said before, Walsh, this doesn’t look like trauma 3. Go harass whatever patients are in there,” he spoke, turning towards you,”I wouldn’t let you do this one if I didn’t know that you could do it, kid. Now we don’t have time for whatever she has to say right now.”

You looked up to grab the scalpel from him, “thank you.” You earned a simple hum in response. 

You didn’t notice the way that his actions immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room, not just Walsh. Perlah made note to talk to Princess about it later. 

☆

Although you usually worked night shifts, you got called in to help just a bit earlier today - only by a few hours. Only unfortunate thing was whenever you got called in, you needed to get there as soon as you could, so that meant no tea today. 

Jack also got called in, but he was close enough to the hospital that a quick stop to the cafe wasn’t going to throw off his day - he knew you were likely 10-15 minutes out still, so he made sure that he grabbed the tea on his way in. 

Hustling in, you made sure to set your things in your locker before making it back to the nurse’s station. It wasn’t rare for you to see Dana, but it was rare for you to see her for more than 15 minutes at work.

”Dana, hi,” you immediately rounded the station to give her a hug, “I feel like I only see you in small doses anymore.”

”It’s good to see you, too, hun. No tea?”

”You know me too well, but no. I was running late in general, plus I hate being late whenever I get called in, so I didn’t-“ your words stopped in your throat as you saw a small black thermal pop into view. 

“Here, kid,” and before you could even say thank you, he caught up to talk to Robby - who didn’t miss the interaction either. 

“Oh, well. Nevermind, then?” you said, a confused look on your face, which only made Dana laugh more. “He did say I was one of his favorites, but I didn’t know that that entailed getting me my tea?”

”You’re definitely something to him,” she spoke, in true Dana fashion. “Maybe more than a favorite.”

”No, he just said I was one of his favorite residents, it wouldn’t be anything more than that,” you said, taking a sip of your tea, only to be met with silence, “Right?”

”That’s a question for him, hun. Let me know how asking goes.”

You knew you weren’t going to ask - this was just one of those mundane things that he did for you. 

“You know, I don’t get any of my residents their ‘morning’ drink,” Robby said, as he walked beside Jack. 

“Okay, well news flash, it’s actually 4:30 in the afternoon, so no morning drink here, brother,” he spoke, keeping his voice even. In all honesty, he didn’t know why he had gotten you tea. It wasn’t like he even got himself a coffee or anything, he just knew that you would need the pick-me-up before today’s shift and felt inclined to do so - for whatever reason. 

“Still doesn’t give any reason for you getting her tea,” Robby said, a slight smirk on his face, simply brought on by his friend deflecting. 

“I don’t really need to give you reasoning. I just need my favorite resident to be on point.”

”Oh, so she’s moved on from ‘one of your favorites’. I see.”

Jack could only roll his eyes in response. Of course that’s what Robby picked up on. 

☆

Loss wasn’t foreign to you. Especially in this profession - but today it hit harder. You were no stranger to the idea and concept that you can’t always save people, but for whatever reason, today was a day where you couldn’t deal with the loss. 

You had an older patient, she came in stable for a simple procedure, but something went wrong. You had walked away under the impression that she was stable, and she was, but when you were checking on another patient, you heard the nurses call and code. This had you sprinting through the ER and giving compressions for 40 minutes. 

She should have been fine. She quite literally was here for one of the easiest procedure you could perform in the ER, yet it wasn’t enough. You stayed in her room a bit too long before Jack found you. 

“You know, it’s not your fault,” you had found a point on the tiles that was more interesting than anything else. 

“Yeah, so why does it feel like it?” You hadn’t meant to be short with him, but you just couldn’t deal with it right now. You didn’t need comfort or patience, you needed someone to yell, scream, anything other than sympathy. It was somehow more draining than if someone just yelled at you. 

“Kid,” he said, stepping closer to you. He reached a hand out to your shoulder, but you nudged him off and left the room. He could only watch you walk away. He had never gotten that kind of reaction from you - part of him wanted to leave you be, but the other part was ready to chase you down to offer some kind of comfort. 

You just weren’t in the mood for it today. You were no stranger to self soothing, growing up in a place where it was every man (or woman) for themselves, so Jack trying to offer something threw you off. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the comfort, it was that you simply couldn’t accept it. 

Another reason that he wasn’t shocked to see you up on the roof, not on the side of the railing that he usually stood on though - which gave him some peace of mind. So he simply stood beside you, a peaceful silence taking over the both of you. 

He didn’t say anything, only moving his hand over just enough to where your pinkies were touching each other. 

☆

“Hi, I’m Dr. y/l/n, what brings you in today?” you asked, pulling the curtain closed, only to see one of your ex flings in the bed in front of you. It hadn’t ended badly, just ended because the mixed work schedules made a difference. ”Oh, hey, Lucas.”

”Hey, y/n/n,” the familiar nickname left his mouth as though nothing had really ever ended between you two. 

“What brings you in?” 

“Well, note that I wasn’t skateboarding at night, but I did skateboard earlier and the issue just got worse. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check that my favorite doctor was working tonight to help me out though,” he said, which only earned a laugh from you - loud enough that someone else in the ER heard. 

Jack’s ears perked up at the sound of your laugh, “which patient is she with right now?”

Ellis simply laughed in response, “don’t ask questions you don’t want to know, Abbot.”

”What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She could only smirk in response, only because she knew exactly who you were with right now because she had seen the name when checking boards, “she’s with Lucas, if I recall correctly.”

”Who the fuck is Lucas?” he said, a look of disgust crossing his face. He thought for a moment, as he process Ellis had spoken like he should know who she was talking about. “Wait, as in that Lucas?”

She couldn’t help to hide the smirk on her face, “maybe.” The smirk turning into a laugh as she watched him shoot up from the nurse’s station to go check on a patient that likely has a simple sprain. Before he knew it, he was moving the curtain back to see you and Lucas talking. 

“No, but it’s not like anything crazy, just a small get together. We also wouldn’t have to exclusively stay with Marcus and them, I didn’t plan on it at least,” he spoke, glancing up to see the older Doctor behind you. 

“I mean, I can see what I can do. No promises though, remember, I’m a very busy woman,” you spoke, checking the bandages on his ankle. Feeling a presence behind you, you moved to check behind you, only to see Jack there. ”Oh, hey?”

”Hi,” he said, tone short and voice laced with something you couldn’t recognize. He simply kept his eyes on the patient in front of you. 

“This is Dr. Abbot, by the way. Usually, he’s at least a tad bit more personable, but he’s not really trained to deal with some people, so give him grace,” you said, earning a laugh from Lucas. 

“I gotcha. Hey, man. Are you one of her teachers or?”

”Something like that.”

Sensing whatever tension was there, you quickly just to dissolve the tension. I’m going to go check back on some results though and I’ll be right back. Dr. Abbot?” you asked, nodding your head outside of the curtain,”care to explain what the fuck that was?”

”I don’t know what you mean,” he said, looking anywhere but your face. You took a moment to examine the expression on his face before you smiled. ”What is it?”

”Did Ellis tell you who Lucas was?”

”No, but he’s been mentioned before in passing,” he spoke, tone still short. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re jealous?” He couldn’t say anything in response - he wasn’t a liar. “Oh my god, you are. I was just saying that. Wait. I have so many follow up questions.”

”And I have no follow up answers for you, y/l/n.”

☆

“Okay, wait, so you mean to tell me, that he did all that and didn’t say anything else after you said you had questions,” your friend asked. 

“I can respect top tier avoidance, but doing that without actually clarifying did not help me one bit,” you had today and tomorrow off and your friend hit you with a ‘going out, you wanna come?’ text - so who were you to say no. 

“Hmm, you know what I sense, a planned drunk text,” she said, taking another sip of her margarita. You guys had made a stop at the bar before you would go to the club, mainly to rehash, but also make sure you had enough food in your system. 

“I don’t know, that’s a little much for knowing nothing for sure,” you said, but you had already been contemplating it. 

“Okay, so then, let’s get fucked up, so you can forget about your indecisive-hot-older-doctor crush,” she said, calling the waiter over to you, so you could get your checks. 

The two of you elected to meet some more friends out at the club, mainly for the safety of having a bigger group. As the night went on, the drinks kept coming and the music kept playing, but it was a much needed break after the tension filled days and thoughts of the doctor in your head. 

By the time that your friends were considering leaving, you knew that you were done for. The thoughts of Jack that were in your head weren’t going away - in fact, your drunk, delusional brain was starting to convince you that the idea of calling him was the best idea ever. 

“Should I call him, guys?” you said, your words somehow rushed and slowed simultaneously. “I kinda want to call him.” You were immediately met with mixed reactions, but your brain chose to ignore those disagreeing. 

Before anyone could even process, your phone was open to his contact and you were pressing the call button. It might not have been your smartest decision, but here you were. The phone rang once, twice, but on the third ring he picked up.

”y/n?” his voice sounded concerned - of course it did, you never just randomly called him.

”Hi, Jack,” you said, a smile grazing your face, even though he couldn’t see it. “I just wanted to, um, to talk to you.”

”Where are you?” 

“I’m out with friends.”

”Friends? Or Lucas?”

You giggled at that, “wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy.”

A deep chuckle rang out from his side of the phone, “you think I’m pretty?”

”I think a lot about you, a lot. But, I’m not, don’t think I’m complaining about it.”

He simply sighed, “you have a safe way home?”

”Yes sir,” you said, he wouldn’t admit that it did something to him. 

“A sober driver?”

”An uber,” you said, getting into the car with your friends. The laughing in the background alerting him that you were on your way. 

“Let me know whenever you get where you’re going safely. Okay, sweetheart?”

”You called me sweetheart.”

”I know. Goodnight, y/n.”

”Goodnight, Jack,” and it wasn’t too late after that that he received a slightly misspelled text that you were home safe. 

Luckily, you were someone that didn’t get hangovers, but that didn’t make the pain of acknowledging the outgoing call to ‘Jack Abbot’ or the mistyped message saying you made it home any easier. You silently cursed yourself as you spent the day to yourself, knowing that you would have to see him tomorrow. 

Going into your shift, you prepared yourself for anything, you weren’t prepared for the small black thermal to be filled with your favorite tea, with a note signed off from ‘pretty boy’ on there. You could only shake your head knowing exactly who the note and tea was from, along with the knowledge that he probably signed it off that way because of you. 

“Pretty boy? That’s an interesting sign off,” Dana spoke from behind you. 

“Yeah, it’s something,” you spoke, folding the note and putting it in your pocket, you simply sipped on your tea. It wasn’t until you saw both Jack and Robby walk out, a smirk on both of their faces. “If you have something to say, just get it out now.”

The two of them could only cackle in response before Jack finally spoke up, “look, I just didn’t take you as the type to drunk call, y/n. That’s all… or call me pretty boy for that matter.”

You could only drink your tea and walk away in response. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll make them leave you alone,” you heard Dana say from behind you. 

Before you could process it, Jack had fallen into rhythm with you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?” 

“Nowhere in particular, pretty boy.”

”Look, I know I made fun of it, but I can’t say I hate it,” he speaks, honestly. 

“I didn’t hate you calling me sweetheart either.”

☆

 You tried to avoid her, you really did, but unfortunately Gloria was the type to always find a way to you. “Dr. y/l/n, I’m glad I could catch you before your shift actually started.”

You simply smiled, sipping on your tea, “crazy stuff, Gloria. How are you?”

”I’m good, I wanted to bring something up with you,” you remained silent, letting her continue. Looking behind her to see Jack already looking at you, “I was making sure that you knew, due to excellent patient satisfaction ratings on your part, you’ve been invited to our annual gala.”

”The one that is primarily only attendings?” you were surprised that it was being brought up to you. 

“Yes, some of the board members were extremely impressed by a lot of things on your record - patient satisfaction ratings being one of the bigger ones - but they like to see that you genuinely care about things that happen in this hospital and they were wanting to see some new faces.”

You laughed at the last part of the sentence, knowing that implied they were tired of seeing Jack and Robby being the main ones there every year. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

”You always have a choice, Doctor, but there is a wrong answer here,” she said, handing you the paper invitation. 

“Gee, thanks.” Now you had to find a dress. 

The next day, you texted Dana asking if she would be free at some point to go dress shopping with you soon before the gala, to which she was ecstatic to go with. So, the next day there was crossover in your days off - which was way too close to the gala for your liking - you went dress shopping. 

“Look, honey, all I’m going to say is that old man you’re into is going to lose it,” she said, laughing to herself once you stepped out of the dressing room. The dress was simple, but enough. A simple, long black dress with a white bow in the back to contrast. 

“Dana.”

”You know I’m right, you look good, kid.”

☆

Jack didn’t want to be here. He knew Robby didn’t want to be here either, but here they both were. Him with his whiskey, Robby choosing against drinking. “I still hate these things, I’m just waiting for Dana to get here, so she can talk shit with us like she usually does,” Robby said, speaking up first.

”Yeah, I don’t think these things will ever get anymore interesting, especially when all these donors care about are the surface level issues, never what actually matters,” Jack spoke, his eyes scanning the group of people that were here. “I just need Dana to get here to at least make sure I’m not falling asleep during all this.” 

“You know this is y/n’s first gala,” Robby said, gauging Jack’s reaction. 

A confused look came over his face, “wait, she was invited?”

”Yeah, your favorite resident isn’t just your favorite. Her patient satisfaction scores were above everyone. I know she didn’t learn that part from you.”

“Shut up, you already know that she’s one of the best that we have. She’s going to go far with whatever she decides to do,” he said, turning back towards the bar to set his now empty glass up. “I can’t wait to see where she goes in life.”

”You being a part of it? Or?” Robby wasn’t a stranger to asking Jack about you anymore. He knew his friend well enough to know that he was only hesitant of where things would go, in fear that things would end badly. Jack didn’t want to risk losing you to any extent. 

“If she wants me to be, I will be there.”

”If who wants you there, you’ll what?” he turned at the sound of your voice. His jaw dropped at how gorgeous you looked. Dana stepped into the circle after she finished talking to one of the donors. 

“She looks nice, don’t you think, Jack?” Dana asked, but she could clearly see that you had, in fact, left him speechless.

“Yeah,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “you look gorgeous, y/n.”

”Thank you, Jack. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said, as if you weren’t absolutely losing it over the way he looked in a tux. “I really feel out of place here, I think I only talked to one other resident so far - and that was out of the five people we had to talk to to get over here.”

”You deserve to be here, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” he left it at that, watching as Dana and Robby left to go check in with Gloria. He came closer to you, unsure of what to do. He considered reaching for your hand, but as he go closer and the smell of your perfume hit him, all he could do was ball his fist before flexing his hand. ”I can’t even think straight around you during a work day, you have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my thoughts together right now.”

A smile grew on your face that he had seen countless times before, but this time was different. You weren’t any different, but the smile on your face meant something different. 

Before he could say anything else, he was interrupted by Gloria swooping in, “Dr. Abbot, Dr. y/l/n, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Palmer. He was the one that saw some of your records and made sure that you were invited today,” she said, leaving the three of you alone. 

“Dr. y/l/n, I was extremely impressed when I saw and heard certain things about you. Patients love you, other doctors are incredibly impressed by you, you have a lot of potential,” he said, a cocky grin on his face that screamed ‘I have money and I hope that it shows’.

”Thank you Mr. Palmer, that means a lot,” you could feel Jack’s eyes on you. 

“Yeah, of course. You look stunning tonight, I would never miss the opportunity to ask someone so beautiful to dance,” he said, moving his hand for you to take. “Can I have this dance?”

You paused, not missing the glare that was sent in Mr. Palmer’s direction. You wanted so badly to object, but you knew this wasn’t the place that you could. “You may.”

Jack was heated. No. Correction, Jack was fuming. He could tell based off the way that he was looking at you, he wasn’t actually impressed, it was a base level statement. Unfortunately given context of time and place, he couldn’t do anything but watch from a distance. 

Robby and Dana had watched the whole interaction, moving closer to talk to Jack, but not before placing bets on how long he would last before cutting in. “You okay?” Dana asked, softly. 

“Just peachy,” his eyes didn’t leave you. He watched as the two of you started dancing, keeping watch of where he decided to set his hands - moreso how badly he wanted to be murdered. 

“You know, I told her whenever she bought the dress that it would catch your attention. Goals were achieved tonight,” Dana joked, hoping to add light to the situation, but he was still laser focused on you. 

“Yeah, it definitely caught my attention.”

You smiled to keep face, but truth was Mr. Palmer, who ironically was in fact named Chadwick, was a cocky son of a bitch that did not seem to have respect for you or any doctor for that matter. Conversing with him was nauseating, to say the least, but you knew that you had to keep up appearances - especially being a specially invited person. 

You were letting him go on and on about his recent golf experiences, when he suddenly changed the subject to you and how you looked in the dress - you knew immediately where he was going to go with this. You knew you were right when he talked about wanting to get out of here eventually and he tried to move his hand lower on your waist. 

“No, sir. I don’t think so,” you said, attempting to pull away, but he pulled you tighter. “You’re not getting what you want, even if you try pulling me tighter.”

”Oh, I would hate for something big to mess up that star reputation of yours, wouldn’t you?” he spoke, you had seen this move too many times. A very unfortunate abuse of powers, you were stuck.

“I know how good my reputation is, you can’t tarnish that, you prick.”

”Oh, but one word to Gloria and I can easily get you taken out of a program. I’d be cautious.”

“Yeah,” a familiar voice spoke from behind you, “I would be cautious, too. Get your hands off of her.” 

You didn’t know, but Robby and Dana had also moved in closer. You felt yourself let out a breath of relief. You stepped back and were on your way back to the bar when he had the audacity to say something else, “damn, I didn’t realize you got this far by fucking your ‘mentor’.”

The wire snapped. Anything that was holding Jack Abbot back from letting the man in front of him have it disappeared and before he knew it, the man was on the ground from a mean right hook. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

You stood there in awe. So much had happened in a short timespan, you didn’t even have the chance to recollect your thoughts. Robby had simply pulled Jack back just enough for him to process what was happening, “Jack, not here.”

Jack simply looked back and grabbed you, both of you immediately leaving. ack didn’t know what to say, the only thing keeping him in line right now was the click of your heels behind him. 

“Jack, wait up.” It wasn’t until you two had stepped outside that you had said it, but the only thing that let him know that was the cooler air hitting his face. 

“I’m not apologizing for defending you, sweetheart. I don’t care, he had no right to say what he did to you. I should have done way worse,” he kept going. Ranting on and on about the man that had disrespected you.

”Jack.”

“And him using, well attempting to, use the money thing against you made it even more of a dick move.” He kept ranting. 

“Jack, look at me,” you said, stepping closer to him. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” and before he knew it, your lips were on his. 

☆

Robby was going to hurt Jack. Not that he did anything specific, but after the events at the gala, he went MIA. He didn’t completely disappear, but he made an adamant point to avoid you and anyone he could at work. He was simply in a clock in, clock out mode. 

You tried your best not to care, you really did - it just took a lot to go from bits of nothing to the events of the gala back to square one. You missed seeing his black thermal next to your pink one or his little notes. Or him, for that matter. 

It was a total switch up from the emotional roller coaster that you had been on for the past eight months. How could he just go from this to normal? How could he just go from this to nothing with you?

It seemed too easy for him. Maybe it had been. 

Dana had made the suggestion that maybe you switch to days for a little bit, that way you weren’t constantly pressed on the issue that was Jack Abbot. She was also on the verge of attacking the man verbally - maybe physically - for what he was doing to you. 

Robby knew. Robby knew exactly what had happened, but he also knew his closest friend well enough that he couldn’t press on the issue in fear of making it worse. Jack was scared. You had eased him out from behind certain walls, but the certainty of a kiss made him want to build them back up. 

Jack knew, too. He knew that he was hurting you, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had his walls built up for a reason: to protect himself and you - but unfortunately, he was just harming you in the process. You switching from night shift for a few days per week is what made him immediately regret the decisions he had made after the gala. 

He showed up an extra 40 minutes early when you worked the day shift, just so that he could see you for longer than what he had been. He found peace in the night and darkness, but you were the one that was bringing him light for the time being. 

“I expected to find you up here,” he heard Robby say, eventually sensing him right behind him. 

“I know. I knew someone would know I was up here.”

”She knows too, she’s who sent me up here to make sure you didn’t jump,” Robby said, making Jack turn to face him. “You should talk to her. She’s holding it together, but she’s not doing good, man. I’m not going to say it’s your fault-“

”But you want to though.”

”Yeah. You might be her mentor, but at least she didn’t pick up on your small lack of emotional intelligence.” 

“I fear it’s too late for her to forgive me. I don’t want it to be, I-“

”You love her?”

”Yeah, I do.”

”So, you have to fix this, Jack,” and before he could respond, Robby left him on his own.  

☆

It started off gradually. You went back to working just night shifts, tired of letting him get to you. You were cordial, you did your job, and at the end of the day you immediately went home. 

The way that you and Jack worked together didn’t change, he still rightfully encouraged you to be the best doctor that you could be - he would blame himself if this directly hindered your career. 

“Sweet cheeks, why so glum?” you heard Myrna’s voice ring out from behind you. 

“I’m okay, Myrna. Also, sweet cheeks?” you questioned, sending a confused look her way. 

“You’re sweet and-“

”You know, I’m okay without you elaborating.”

”Suit yourself. You seem upset, who hurt ya? I can hurt them like I hurt my husband,” she said, making you glad she was still in cuffs. 

You smiled at the older woman, “I appreciate you, Myrna, but I promise I’m okay.” You removed yourself as far from her as you could, but when you heard the doors open, you made direct eye contact with him. You didn’t miss the two thermal cups in his hand. 

It was a silent exchange, he didn’t say anything else; opting to simply set down the mug and send a nod your way before he went to talk to Robby for handoffs.

“Have you two talked any since the gala?” Dana asked, pulling you away from your thoughts. Simply shaking your head, she let out a sigh. “I don’t like to see either of you hurting like this, especially you. He’s just too stubborn for his own good.”

“I know,” you said, sadly. “I just don’t feel like it’s my place to try and fix things as he’s the one that MIA, I just miss us - not that it was anything for sure, but it still felt like enough.”

“He’ll get it eventually,” Dana said, putting her jacked on and grabbing her bag, “I just hope sooner than later. Alright, hun, I’m heading out. Holler if you need anything.”

With that, it was you and the rest of night shift - and Robby, who couldn’t leave on time to save his own life. You fell into rhythm with Chen and Ellis as they walked during handoffs.

”Haven’t seen you with your bodyguard recently,” Chen said, his tone even. 

“My bodyguard?”

Ellis made a face and Chen could only laugh at you, “Abbot.”

“He’s not my bodyguard,” you grumbled, choosing to ignore the two of them. 

“That’s not what I heard, especially with him punching some guy out for you at that gala. A non-bodyguard wouldn’t do that,” Ellis said, a pointed look on her face. 

“Whatever.”

☆

Dana had decided to have a small, sweet get together for her birthday; she was able to leave her daughters with a babysitter and just wanted to spend some time with the people she cared about most. This led to you being sat near Heather, Robby, Frank, Cassie, Samira, and Jack, at a table in one of Dana’s favorite bars. 

You elected to ignore the ongoing sense of Jack’s eyes on you as you talked to Samira and Cassie. Cassie was ranting about her ex making a stop in the hospital for something as stupid as the skateboarding accident, but her voice kept fading into the background as you looked to see Jack’s eyes already on you. 

“Can you guys just make up already? The tension is actually insane,” Samira whisper-shouted to you. 

“Please, we’re begging,” Cassie added, “it even makes my heart beat witnessing all of this. It’s tiring. Just kiss, make up, maybe do more, we sure as hell won’t stop you.”

You laughed, “don’t you guys have jobs? My life and relationships should not be the primary focus of your day. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink - will one of you guys come with?” 

Samira was already getting up when Cassie spoke up, “I’ll come with you, but I won’t get anything.” She told the table where you guys were going before she caught up to you. “Wait, y/n/n, isn’t that, uh, what was his name? That fling you had last summer?”

”Who? Lucas?” you asked, looking up to see him on the other side of the bar, you sent a small smile his way that he immediately reciprocated. He moved away from some of the friends that you recognized and headed your way. ”Hey, Lucas. How are you?”

”I’m good,” he nodded towards the two other girls around you as you introduced them. “You ladies getting anything to drink? They can be on me. y/n, you want your usual? Or are you drinking drinking tonight?”

You didn’t miss the smirk that was on his face, “I’ll have my usual, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a round of shots for us, too. Don’t think you’re going to get lucky though just for buying us drinks, Lucas.”

”Can I not just buy a pretty girl drinks without any ulterior motives?” he spoke, smoothly before turning to the bartender. “Four shots, a strawberry mojito, and - would you ladies want anything else?”

”I’ll have a tequila sunrise,” Samira mentioned. 

“I’m not drinking, but thank you,” Cassie added. Lucas nodded before getting the order finished. 

“I’m going to go back to the table, are you cool here with Samira?” Cassie asked, looking to you for a response. 

“I’m good, thank you though. You think I should drink the extra shot?”

”As long as you can handle it, y/n/n,” she said with a laugh. Turning back to the table, she let out a cackle at the sight in front of her: Dana and Robby watching Abbot, trying to hide the smiles on their faces as Jack looked like he was about to lose his shit - if he hadn’t already lost it. 

Once Samira got her drink and took the shot with you guys, she turned back to the table to already see most eyes on you and Lucas. “Oh, I’m not saying I can see steam rising from Jack’s head, but the man could very easily have steam coming from his ears.”

”He can’t get mad if he’s not going to say anything about how he feels,” you spoke honestly. Lucas turned and immediately recognized the doctor that had been looming the last time he had to go to the ER. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a look like that from a man that wasn’t in love,” Lucas said, taking a sip of his beer. 

“What?” 

He shrugged, “He wouldn’t look at me like he wants to kill me, if he wasn’t in love with you.”

“Random man does make a fair point,” Samira said, “can I please have your permission to stir the pot some? Just to see what the old man does?”

Lucas laughed at that, “just don’t get me murdered if you do, I have a lot to live for.”

”I don’t know what you have planned, but do what you have to do at this point,” you said, mentally preparing for what could happen. 

When Samira sat down, she immediately turned and told Cassie what was going on - she didn’t exactly have a master plan, but she did know it wouldn’t be difficult to get him to his breaking point. 

“Why’d you leave her up there, Samira?” he said, blinking slowly before taking a sip of his water. 

“She seemed okay up there, plus I’m not one to interfere on romantic matters,” Samira said, earning a laugh from Cassie and Dana. Robby could tell based off of Samira’s face that nothing was actually going on, she was just saying stuff at this point. Jack simply rolled his eyes before going back to his y/n watching. 

“I remember them being a thing,” Heather added to the mix, “they were cute, it didn’t work out just because of schedules though. Honestly, if his job changed any, I don’t think they should avoid trying again.”

Jack’s face remained still, but everyone at the table was on the same page: push his buttons just enough for him to do something. His attention was brought back to the bar at the sound of your laugh, which was usually one of his favorite sounds, but not when it was because of another man. ”He can’t be that funny.”

Everyone at the table could barely contain their laughter anymore, continuing to say things in hopes that it would finally make him get up and talk to you - but for whatever reason, nothing was working. Maybe it was just simple self control?

Jack kept his eye on the table, the noise of the bar drowning out as he waited for you to return to the table. He didn’t see you come back, but the smell of your perfume had has head snapping up, “you have fun, sweetheart?”

You smirked, the nickname usually kept between the two of you. “Yes, I did. Thank you for asking.” You continued talking to everyone at the table, but didn’t miss the feeling of eyes dancing between you and him. 

“Jesus Christ,” Robby muttered, shaking his head and you thought you could see Dana’s eye twitch. 

“Bitch,” Samira said, eyes wide, “I swear to god, if you do not leave tonight with him, I will hurt both of you.”

”Same,” the collective said.  

More time passed, but nothing happened. Jack didn’t really say anything else to you and you assumed that he had given up on whatever there was with the two of you. Before you knew it, another hour had passed and the table that was full before was down to just you, Robby, and Jack - everyone else going home together so they made it back safely. 

Robby looked at both of you before he started, “You guys need to figure your shit out. If you need me here to talk it out, cool - note, I won’t stay past anything other than conversation though.”Jack didn’t say anything. You didn’t know if that made you feel better or worse. “Okay, so this is the part where the conversation happens, if you were unaware.”

He stayed silent again, this time you weren’t having it though. “I appreciate the attempt, Robby, but I think everyone has tried hard enough.” You tried your best to keep your voice even, turning to grab your purse and move your chair, you were ready to make the walk home or get an uber home. 

“y/n, wait,” Jack’s voice finally said, “I- Can I drive you home?”

You looked from Robby to Jack, “I was just going to get an uber. It’s all good though.”

”y/n. Please,” at that your eyes turned to him. He was pleading with you, saying a million things at once. A million things that he had intended to say, but you saw it - you knew him well enough to see it. 

“Okay.” 

“Well, kiddos, if that’s all settled, I’m headed out. Let me know when you guys make it back safe though. I’ll see you guys at shift change,” and with that it was just you and Jack. 

”Are you ready to head out or?” you asked, breaking the silence that had taken a moment to settle between the two of you. 

“I’m okay staying for a second,” another beat of silence, “you look beautiful tonight, by the way. I just didn’t want to add fuel to the fire that our friends were waiting on, only reason I didn’t say anything sooner.”

”Yeah, there’s a lot of things you could have said sooner.” Was the comment a bit mean? Maybe. Warranted? Yes.

He sighed, “I know. Trust me, I know.”

”Okay, so if you knew, why? Why did you drag this on, push me away, all of that? I would much rather you just said that you didn’t want something with me than drag me along.”

”Sweetheart,” he said, reaching his hand across the table to yours, “trust me, I want you. So bad that I fear it could kill me. I just- I pushed you away because I was scared and for that I’m so sorry. In no way did I want you to feel unwanted.”

”Scared? Of what?” you weren’t even mad at him anymore, you just wanted answers. 

“Scared that, if I admit how I feel about you that I would lose you.”

You stayed silent a moment, tilting your head in confusion, “you thought you would lose me? So you pushed me away?”

”It sounds stupid like that, but I’ve lost so much in my life already. You mean so much to me and I didn’t want to risk losing that. I love you, y/n, and me admitting that made it real. And when it’s real, I have something to lose,” his eyes met yours again, “I can’t lose you.” 

You didn’t know how to respond. He had just admitted that he was in love with you and all you could do was look at him for a moment - his hand on yours was the only thing grounding you. ”I love you, too, Jack. I just didn’t deserve you pushing me away. You mean too much to me for that.”

”I know, and I’m so sorry that I put you through that,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I’lll make it up to you, I promise. Let me get you home.” 

You didn’t know if you should, but all disagreements flew out the window when you saw the way he was looking at you. “Okay.”

☆

As the sun eased into the room the day after, you felt yourself pulled back towards the body behind you. You felt at ease, at peace. A night of repeated ‘I love you’s and ‘I’m sorry’s to make up for lost time. A morning routine that the two of you developed in a few hours, him making breakfast for the two of you and you being the comforting presence he needed in that moment. 

The two of you made up for lost time before you had to prepare for work. Stopping at your apartment so that you could grab your scrubs and work bag, he looked at the pictures you had around of friends, family, and the memories that you had made - his mind immediately going to the new ones the two of you could make. 

Opening your cabinet to grab one of your thermal mugs, he saw the multiple pink thermals that stayed there, “I didn’t realize you had a problem.”

“I have at least one for every day of the week and then some for if I don’t feel like washing them, it’s a system that works” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He let out a light chuckle at your ‘system’, but he couldn’t ignore the way that seeing two of his black thermal mugs in there made him happy. 

“I see I’ve made guest appearances here that I didn’t even know about,” he said, placing his hands on your waist from behind. “Are we stopping for tea before work?”

”Of course, pretty boy. Your favorite resident can’t be dragging,” you said, heading out. 

The two of you made your way through the cafe and into the Emergency Department, not missing the way that Dana’s face lit up at the two of you entering together. 

“I see the two of you finally made up,” Dana said, a smirk on her face, “and based on the way your skin is glowing, maybe more than just a make up.”

“Thank God, you guys needed to do something,” Robby said, nearing the nurses station. “I was genuinely so close to actually losing it, you have no idea.” 

------

taglist: @dayswithoutcoffee @dragonsondragons @literazine

hope you guys enjoyed!! feedback is always welcome

xoxo

ash

[seijorhi]

Divine Rights

for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy as a somewhat late, sort of birthday present aka the royal fic y'all have been waiting weeks for oikawa tooru x female reader w.c 5.6k tw: non-con, yandere themes, blood and a little gore, murder, violence, abuse, pregnancy & childbirth, breeding kink, smut, nsfw

“Miyuki forgot to bring me my tea this afternoon.” At the blank look you get in response, you hasten to clarify, “The maid– the new one, I mean. She always brings it after lunch, but today she forgot.” 

Guilt needles you with every word. You like Miyuki. Quiet as a mouse, most of the time she can hardly bring herself to meet your eye, much less talk with you, but on the days she finishes her tasks quickly enough – the days the guards aren’t watching the clock – she’ll sit with you while you sew or practice your reading. For a brief moment, you can imagine her a friend. Perhaps if you were her friend, or at least a better friend, you’d ignore the gnawing unease in the pit of your stomach, keep your mouth shut and spare her. 

Because there will be consequences, of that you’re certain. Whatever grace the King affords you on a whim does not extend to the servants scurrying throughout the castle. Most especially those few he allows within your presence. 

Stretched out languidly beside you, Oikawa arches an eyebrow. “Your tea?” he repeats.

Your cheeks flame. What you’d give right now to squirm away from him, crawl out of his bed, this room, and disappear entirely just to avoid him and this mortifying conversation. 

There’s a voice in the back of your head that reminds you that there’s a decent chance Oikawa’s ignorant of all of it. Why should he have to concern himself with trivialities like contraception or pulling out? He’s the King, there’ll always be those who trail along after him, cleaning up his messes. No royal bastards. No loose ends when the blacksmith’s youngest disappears behind the walls of the castle keep. 

“So that we don’t– there’s no chance of a– a baby. I meant to say something earlier, but…” you trail off, the slow trickle of his seed oozing from the raw ache between your legs speaking for itself. 

With your oldest sister and her husband, it’d taken months for her to fall pregnant. Newlyweds don’t always conceive within the first year. If every accidental slip left women pregnant, the streets by the brothels would run riot with unclaimed bastards. It’ll be fine. 

You drank the tea Miyuki brought you yesterday, so long as she brings it shortly, and you take it as normal again tomorrow–

Long, elegant fingers coax at your chin, derailing the runaway thought in its tracks. His chuckle, deep and low, registers a split second before the kiss. “Not a mistake,” he tells you, murmuring against your lips. “You’re going to give me an heir, sweet girl. Two, actually. An heir and a spare, and maybe a few after that, if you’re very, very good for me.” He says it indulgently, his own breath catching on a low shudder when his index and middle fingers curl up into your pussy, pushing his spend back inside of you, “Where it belongs,” he whispers.

You seize his forearm, “T-Tooru–” you gasp.

He has to be joking. You can’t– He wouldn’t–

The tea made sense. You’ve no title, you’re not his wife nor his Queen, not a Lady of the court or the daughter of some important, foreign dignitary. Outside the walls of these chambers, you do not exist at all. You aren’t anyone, anything beyond what he desires you to be.

You cannot have his child. 

“Please, I don’t want this. I’m not– I’m not ready.” Your nails are digging half moon circles into his skin, and the prickle of tears unshed and the lump in your throat make your voice thick and strained, but the King meets your panicked gaze with a twinkle in his eye. 

“You are,” he kisses your forehead, “and you will,” your mouth, sucking on your lower lip. “Trust in your King, love. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

The woman who brings your meals the next day doesn’t linger, she scurries about, shoulders drawn, flinching when you ask her name.

There’s no tea – not that afternoon, or any that follow. 

—

When you were younger, you used to pretend you lived in the castle up on the hill. 

Your two older brothers would fight over which would play King while you and your sisters danced and sipped honeyed drinks and pretended to give your favour to one or the other, only to order them about once they’d been crowned. You imagined dances and feasts and thrilling hunts, tournaments with brave knights and roaring crowds. Never a dull moment. 

A life of luxury forever out of reach. 

Until it was forced upon you, but only a shadow. 

You eat delicacies you could only have dreamed of, taste rich, heady wine on the King’s tongue – once, a mouthful from his lips, Oikawa laving up the droplet that spilled down your chin.

But while you hear the distant, muted melodies that play somewhere down below, you’ve never sat in the hall by his side. Only a few of the names he rattles off you recognise. The others remain blurry figures in your head, characters in a play you’ve yet to attend. Won’t ever attend, if the King has his way. 

The court gossip you learn in dribs and drabs, never enough to paint a complete picture, and for all that he chatters away in your ear, Oikawa shares little. You aren’t privy to the schemes that run through the castle, the kingdom at large, from its highest echelon. Nothing for you to trouble your pretty little head over.

It should come as no surprise then that news of his upcoming nuptials doesn’t come from the King himself. 

“I imagine they’ll be moving you,” the maid – Miyuki’s replacement – says one afternoon, out of the blue. And it might not come as such a shock if she’d ever spoken to you before that, if the comments weren’t accompanied by a wide eyed, frantic look at odds with her stilted delivery, if you had any idea what she was on about to begin with.

You blink at her. “Moving me?”

She nods, a shaking jut of her chin. “When the King marries at week’s end. If he decides to keep you, it won’t be here.”

If.

Oikawa’s never bothered with sweet lies. Every vow he’s ever made to you, he’s followed through on, every threat delivered – no matter your tears. In that, at least, you trust him. When he withheld the tea and told you he wanted you to give him an heir, you believed it. He had no reason to lie.

Your mind spins, trying in vain to pluck the threads of an unravelling tapestry; the colours wrong and the image distorted. 

A Queen doesn’t bode well. Moving you would be the logical step; there’s no doubt a plethora of nooks and crannies he could lock you away in until he’s gotten what he wants – but now that makes even less sense than before.

A cold feeling prickles at the nape of your neck.

And then what? What happens when you give him the child he wants? What happens when you outlive your usefulness?

You’ve become stone, blank faced, frozen if not for the slight tremor in your – the hand she seizes by your wrist, fingers digging in tight. Dropping all pretence, she steps closer, voice lowering to a frightened whisper, “You need to leave. Whatever you think you’re gaining from this, you aren’t. He’ll kill us all before–”

“Enough.”

The maid snaps back like she’s been scalded, dropping into a hasty curtsy, eyes fixed to the floor as one of Oikawa’s Royal Guards – knights in their own right – Matsukawa, strides into the room, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. 

He spares you only a glance, a quick, cursory look to determine you’re unharmed. A laughable notion, really, when one considers his King’s penchant for manhandling.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She had her hands on you,” he counters. And the King will not abide that.

You bite your tongue, sinking down onto the bed as Matsukawa steps aside and the maid – she never told you her name, never answered when you asked – all but flees with a hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. Matsukawa leaves behind her, the door quietly shut in his wake.

For a long time after that you sit in silence. 

Eventually, the door opens again – a boy this time, no older than seven, carrying a tray from the kitchens. He stares with wide, awe filled eyes, and bows and stammers out an apology, cheeks flushed apple red. Only the ache in your chest draws the corners of your lips upwards into a paper-thin smile.

Your sister’s boys would’ve been his age. 

If, if, if–

“I hear you’ve had an exciting day, my love.”

The sun has set. The King has returned home to roost. 

“Is that why?” you ask, hardly glancing up as he makes his way over towards you.

“Why what?”

“I-is she barren? Hideous? Too old to bear children, or too– too–” you can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Cruel, heartless and selfish he may be, you have to believe there’s at least one boundary he wouldn’t cross. “What happens to me when all this is done? When you have your heirs, or you grow weary of this– of… me?” you ask instead.

You don’t realise tears are rolling down your face until he’s looming over you, having pushed his way between your legs, cupping your cheeks to wipe them away. The gesture could almost be construed as something comforting, something genuine, if not for the preening satisfaction behind his sigh. 

“My stubborn, sensitive girl, twisting yourself into knots over things that aren’t yours to worry about. We’d both be much happier if you just left well enough alone and trusted me, hm? You know I can’t stand to see you cry.” Liar. “But if it will ease that tender heart of yours, know that she’s a whining cunt, I have a sizeable new merchant fleet courtesy of her father, and there is no scenario, in this or any other life–” his expression doesn’t waver, but every trace of levity bleeds from his voice as his thumb slides between your lips, “–where I will ever be done with you, do you understand?”

You nod. With his thumb hooked in your mouth, pressing against your tongue, it’s all you can do. 

“Good girl. Always so good for me.”

It isn’t unexpected when his other hand moves to unlace his breeches and fish out his cock.

“Get it wet,” he breathes.

When he’s feeling generous, your King’s the one to sink between your knees, tongue and fingers working at your core until you’re panting, dizzy on the edge of pleasure, warm and welcoming, dripping with a need that’s his to sate.

But the King isn’t feeling generous tonight. Gathering your hair in his fist, he lets out an anticipatory breath, a near hiss, when your fingers curl around him and you lean in, lips obediently parting.  Your tongue swirls around the velvety head giving it a light,  experimental suck, and his hips buck, chasing the sensation.

Usually, Oikawa enjoys your mouth almost as much as your pussy, preferring to draw it out, edge himself, let you demonstrate your ardent devotion to your King, your love – but there’s none of that now. Your scalp screams for relief when he tightens his grip, and though you should have been expecting it, the sudden thrust into your mouth takes you by surprise, eyes shooting wide, choking on the intrusion.

It’s rough and graceless, the wet, gagging sounds that spill out amidst his panting, the tears that spring to your eyes and the burn in the back of your throat. You barely have the presence of mind to work your tongue, hollow your cheeks. Suck like he wants you to.

The reprieve comes without warning, Oikawa yanking you off by your hair. True enough, every inch of his thick, flushed cock shines with your spit, gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

“Lie back,” he orders.

You sprawl back onto the bed. 

None of your earlier nerves have eased, but the tremor in your heart has everything to do with the naked desire that bleeds across his expression as he finishes ridding himself of his clothes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

You shake your head, fingers fluttering in the sheets either side of you.

“No?” he purrs. “You don’t wish it were you I were putting in a crown–” Your insides twist into knots as he crawls onto the bed taking an ankle in his grip. A soft whine escapes, but he simply trails his fingers lovingly along your calf, pushing your shift up and sliding closer. “–pledging myself to in the eyes of God and our Countrymen?”

Your breath hitches. He knocks your legs wider, slotting himself into the open space. “I–I wouldn’t dare to be so bold. I’m already yours, that’s… that’s enough for me.”

He laughs darkly, pressing a kiss to your knee and lifting it to his shoulder. “You are mine, but if you want a crown, I’ll give you one.” 

You seize the sheets, gasping for air when his cock slides into you in a slow, punishing thrust. 

“I’ll give you a crown, the dress, all the pretty diamonds and rubies you like so long as I can have you like this you while wear them– fuck,” he moans, eyes closing, head tilted back as he savours the tight warmth of your pussy, squeezing at his cock. 

He leans down, seeking the taste of your swollen lips. With his tongue licking greedily into the open seam of your mouth, he rolls his hips and falls into a rhythm which leaves you writhing and squirming beneath him. The drag of his cock stings. The King’s never cared that it hurts and it doesn’t affect him now, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh, dragging you closer, shifting your hips so the angle is better. Deeper. Every inch of you claimed, every inch of you his. 

“I’ll marry you too, if that’s what you want,” he pants. 

Each whimper, sharp, stuttered breath, plea for clemency, for a second’s reprieve – they spur him on. Drive him to the brink. You’re sweltering from inside out. Sweat forms at your forehead, beading along the nape of your neck – through hazy eyes, you watch a droplet trickle down Oikawa’s bare chest, struck with the strangest desire to push yourself up and lap at it, all the while the King’s cock rocks inside of you, deep, hard strokes that rob you of sense. 

Your bones rattle with each slam of his hips against the cradle of your thighs, your cries swallowed by his tongue, soothed with a kiss. Pain and pleasure war, bleeding over until they’re indiscernible from one another. “We’ll do it in the Old Ways,” he tells you, his eyes alight, his smile almost savage in its raw pleasure. “Oaths sealed in blood and fucking, witnessed by a Priest. I wouldn’t let any of those old fucks anywhere near you, but Iwa should suffice.”

All you can do is cry out, clutching at his forearm. You’re sure that your nails break the skin, but it only urges Oikawa on. 

“You want Iwa to come watch me split you apart on my cock, hm?” His weight drops, leaning over and nearly folding you in two, and on the next thrust you see stars that blink out your vision. “You want him to marry us?” You shatter beneath him, eyes rolling back, body shuddering as pleasure explodes inside of you, fizzing through your veins til every part of you is alight with it. 

The King swears violently, the heat of your spasming cunt driving him over the edge. With his forehead pressed against yours, he cums with a gritted out moan, fucking his release deep inside of you. Where it belongs. 

—

The disparity between the two of you is never so stark as when Oikawa dons his regalia. From the deep teal of his fur-lined cloak, clasped with chains of gold, to the glittering gemstones set into his crown, he wears finery like a second skin. Even his leather boots would fetch more money at market than your family had ever seen in their lives.

You, meanwhile, are barefoot, hair unbound, wearing a shift stained with last night’s blood. Oikawa smiles down at you with a fond sort of benevolence while you fiddle with the last of his fastenings. At one point of time, he must’ve had a servant to help him with this sort of thing. 

Now, he has you, and seems all the more pleased for it.

“Are you coming back tonight?” you ask.

He catches your hands when you pull away, bringing them back to rest on his chest. “Where else would I go?”

These are, of course, his chambers. 

“And… her?” you choke out, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“You mean the blushing bride to be?” He laughs, the sound grating on your already fraught nerves. “You wouldn’t happen to be jealous, darling, would you?” 

If he fucks her here tonight, with you in the room, you might actually vomit. 

Biting down on the tip of your tongue, you force a nod. It earns another laugh from the King, “My little liar,” he croons. “How quick you are to forget the promises we made to each other.”  Like a dance, he spins you to draw your back flush to his chest, turning you both to face the mirror. 

The reflection paints a stark, ugly picture. Baleful eyes shadowed and drawn. Skin sapped of its healthy glow. You might’ve been a great beauty once – in the eye of certain beholders – in the King’s covetous embrace, there’s something hollow that stares back, aching and endless. A stranger plucked from the wilds. 

Oikawa rests his cheek against your hair and smiles at your reflection, tugging at the top of your shift until it slips low enough to reveal the marred flesh above your breast. He hums appreciatively. “The Queen isn’t your concern. She won’t be setting foot in here.”

The finality in his tone stops you from prying deeper. 

That, and the sharp double rap at the door. 

A quiet curse tumbles from his mouth. For a split second, his grip tightens, the beginnings of a scowl flitting across his handsome face before he smooths it out with a huff. “Later,” he promises, dragging himself away like it pains him to do so.

Rather than leaving, though, you watch as he steps aside to allow someone else entry – a guard.

Kyoutani. Mad Dog. 

Presumably nicknamed for his scowling, vicious mien and the rabidity of his temperament, of all the Royal Guard, he is definitely the last you’d pick to be alone in a room with. Somewhat darkly, you wonder if that’s the sole reason Oikawa says what he does next. “I think we’ve been a little too lax with your safety, my love. Mad Dog will be here to keep a closer eye on you for the foreseeable future.”

Honey brown eyes bear down on you, sharp and shrewd, and a chill rolls down your spine.

“Be good for him, won’t you?”

—

True to his word, she never appeared in his bedchambers; he returned alone, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed and handsy, tugging at your shift with clumsy hands and a sloppy grin before you’d fully roused.

Nothing changes – with the exception of your new guard. 

Gone is any semblance of privacy. For every moment that your King does not dog your every waking breath, Kyoutani takes up watch. You cannot ignore him. You cannot relax, pinned under his stare like a rabbit in a trap. If you thought your maids were nervous before, it’s nothing to the unbridled panic the latest exudes working under the eye of the King’s loyal hound, walking on eggshells like he’s one wrong breath away from snapping her spine. 

After Matsukawa and her predecessor, you’re not entirely sure she’s wrong. With the way he watches you, tracking your every move with narrowed eyes and a perpetual scowl, you’re more afraid that when he snaps – when Oikawa loosens that leash ever so slightly – it’ll be your neck that finds its way between his salivating jaws. That maybe this is your end, and he’s making you face it day in, day out.

You believe Oikawa, and the oaths he made – but only to a point. 

It’s why the morning they bring you eggs for breakfast and the smell sends you hurtling to the bathroom, it isn’t a sense of relief or happiness that fills you. While Oikawa rubs soothingly at your back, kissing your neck, your hair – whatever parts of you he can reach, cooing praise that goes in one ear and out the other, there’s an edge of hysteria that winds its way through your chest and constricts util it feels like you’ll choke under the pressure of it all.

In your womb, a noose and a lifeline. 

“I want my sisters. I want to see them.”

Breakfast long forgotten, lying in bed covered solely by the fine sheen of sweat sticking to your skin, you take his hand in yours and guide it to your stomach. It’ll be months before you show, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from flicking down, the hunger that pools at the reminder of the life that’ll grow there. Your child; his heir.  

“Please, Tooru. I haven’t– it’s been months. Let me see them. Five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

His eyes return to yours, pityingly, his hand stays where it is, thumb stroking bare flesh. “My love, they won’t see you.”

He might as well have slapped you. “What? Why wouldn’t they see me? You– you promised you wouldn’t–”

“I haven’t laid a finger on them,” he assures you. “They… blame you for what happened. Your parents and brothers. Their husbands. The boys. Even if I allowed the guards to permit you entry, they’d only lash out and hurt you. I wouldn’t put you through that, not for anything.”

Rationality rebels against this. Whatever your faults and missteps, you never asked for the King’s attention, you wouldn’t have tried to run if you’d known the cost. He did this, not you.  But rationality gets lost entirely, drowned beneath the wave of grief that sweeps you up. It coils around you and sinks down into your bones. Grief becomes the air you breathe, the blood in your veins. It’s agony and heartbreak and the first sob that leaves you feels like it’s cleaving you in two.

They blame you. 

You don’t fight him, not anymore. You sit pretty and spread your legs, let him fill you with rot over and over and over again, all to keep the King’s ire from touching them further. 

They live and breathe at your behest while you’ve become a broodmare, and they hate you for it.

The cracks within grow wide and deep. 

Still cradling your belly, the King laments, “I’m sorry, my love. I’d have kept you from that knowledge if I could.”

If, if, if–

—

Your breasts swell and grow tender, your middle fills out.

A simple gold band on the King’s left hand marks their marriage, but within the walls of your gilded cage, the new Queen does not exist. Beyond them, you don’t. 

She breaks that tentative impasse only once.

The day itself is unremarkable. The King left hours ago, you’re on the chaise, trying, as per usual, to ignore Kyoutani’s overbearing presence with your drawing book when you hear the muffled conversation filtering through the door.

At first, you pay it no mind. While your maid is usually the only one permitted access, servants come and go throughout the day, the guards change rotation, every so often this Lord or that Lord will come seeking the ear of the King. None of them gain entry, and so you’ve learned to mostly tune the noise out.

But the voices get louder, distractingly so. 

You recognise Makki’s, the other’s foreign to you. Female, you can discern that much, and with each passing exchange, her soft, dulcet tone morphs into something sharp and shrill.

From the corner of your eye, you spy Mad Dog stiffening, a clenching of his jaw. Without necessarily meaning to, you abandon the quill pen, folding your half-finished sketch shut, one hand drifting to flutter nervously over your stomach. 

“– hiding his pet whore! Let me in, or so help me–”

The door thumps violently, rattling the lock and you jump with it. A snarl tears through the chamber – not from Makki or the Queen, but Kyoutani, eyes ablaze, who stalks towards you, seizes you by your arm and hauls you to your feet roughly. 

For months he’s prowled on the edge of an invisible barrier he’s erected around you. He smashes through it now without care, calloused fingers digging in through the cotton of your dress while you stumble behind him, struggling to keep up with his long, angry strides.

“In the bedroom. Now,” he growls, as though you aren’t already at the door.

You expect him to toss you inside and slam the door shut behind you, with him on the other side. He doesn’t. He drags you to the huge bed, pushing you – almost gently – back onto the mattress and stomps to stand guard by its foot without so much as a word of explanation. The door swings closed of its own accord, but not before you catch the screeching wail that cuts off with another loud thump.

The silence grows heavy after that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d entertained the possibility that whatever it was Oikawa was plotting with you and her, the Queen was in on it. Content enough with her crown not to care where her husband buried his cock each night or that her own bed remained cold and empty.

She, after all, would remain once your part in this was done. 

But even if she was just a simple fool, tossed into this game at the whims of the men in her life, you imagined she’d be untouchable. Protected in a way you’d never been afforded.

If the Queen – pretty idiot, scheming bitch – is not safe from the King’s violence, what hope is there for you?

Your eyes drift to the sword on Mad Dog’s hip, and you do a very good job of pretending that when your hands curl around your stomach, they aren’t shaking, that the lie doesn’t taste bitter on your tongue when you whisper, “It’s okay, little one. We’re gonna be okay.”

When the King returns shortly thereafter, he doesn’t utter a word about the incident. Dismissing Kyoutani with a flick of his wrist, he cups your cheeks in warm, tender palms, marvelling at the tears that shine there as though he isn’t perfectly aware he’s their cause.

“Give me a son,” he says lowly, a secret just for the two of you, “and I promise we’ll only have to go through this once more.”

—

You know it before the first contraction, before your water breaks, soaking the sheets beneath.

The physician’s called, your maid pulled from her rest to attend you as the King refuses to allow any more eyes into the room. For hours, you wait out your contractions, breathing through the pain while the King paces and the physician flits between examining you and whispering in his ear. 

Eventually, though, he rises from your bedside and nods at the King. 

“Makki, fetch the Queen. Iwaizumi, too,” he orders. To you, he says, “She’s had such a difficult pregnancy, can hardly get out of bed these days, the poor thing. She deserves to be here for the birth of her child, don’t you think?”

Your chin bobs in agreement, too terrified to speak.

Within minutes the door to the chambers opens again, the Lord Chancellor stepping through, followed by Makki with the Queen in tow.

Mortification stirs within your chest at the sight of the King’s right hand, and you’re quick to divert your gaze to the Queen instead. She stands behind Hanamaki, pallid and thin – certainly not pregnant – and she might have been beautiful, had her expression not been pinched in a sneer. 

A whining cunt, Oikawa had said. But no amount of imperiousness can hide the nervous way her eyes dart between you, the King, and the gathered guards. 

“Your Grace,” she utters stiffly.

She isn’t wearing a crown. No jewels or pretty dresses. Her hair’s loosely braided and she wears a shift dress not dissimilar to your own. Hardly the picture of royalty. 

What strikes you, though, is that she looks passably similar to you. 

“Kneel.”

Another contraction hits, stealing your attention. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath through clenched teeth, waiting for the rippling pain to abate. 

“Don’t look at her,” Oikawa drawls. “Kneel.”

When your eyes flutter open again, the Queen’s on her knees, the edge of Makki’s blade resting upon her shoulder. Your heart lurches.

You don’t understand what’s happening, why they’re here, but the panic rising up inside of you threatens to sweep you away and you cannot help the tears that spring to your eyes or the lump that forms in your throat. Your mother should be here. Your sisters. They’d help you through this, guide you with steady hands and keep you calm – but your mother burned with your home, and your sisters, who despise you anyway, now traitors to the Crown. 

The bed’s been turned to give you the smallest semblance of privacy, but there’s no escaping the prying eyes across the room. In a room full of voyeurs, you’ve never been more alone. More terrified. You don’t want to give birth in front of them. You don’t want your children taken from you. 

You don’t want to die like this, an animal on display.  

“Tooru–” you gasp, curling in on yourself as another contraction hits.

He’s at your side in an instant, hand in yours, the other stroking your hair. He shushes you gently as the physician peers between your legs and tells you that it’s time to push.

—

There’s no more proof needed of the divine right of kings than in the two healthy baby boys the physician presents to Oikawa. 

An heir and a spare. 

The Queen still kneels on the ground at Makki’s feet. Your maid’s fussing with sheets, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani surveying from the corner, straight backed. Alert. Waiting.

Every eye but the Queen’s is fixed on Oikawa and his sons. 

“Can… Can I hold them? Please?” 

You’ll beg if you have to. Those boys are yours. He can kill you now, throw you in the dungeons below with your sisters – he can erase you from the story entirely, but those two perfect boys belong to you, and you’ll haunt him to the grave if he robs you of the chance to kiss them goodbye. 

As though the entire room isn’t holding their breath, dangling on the edge of a knife, Oikawa returns to your side, carefully laying the two swaddled bundles in your arms, and presses a kiss to your trembling lips. “My perfect, perfect girl,” he marvels, smoothing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “You did so well. Better than I could’ve possibly hoped.”

One of the babies yawns, squirming into the warmth of your chest, the other blinks curiously at you, his tiny brown eyes a mirror image of his father’s. They’ll need to be fed soon.

Rather than snatching them back as you fear, the King eases down onto the bed beside you, careful as to not disturb either Prince, and tucks you into his side. Unable to hold it back any longer, a sob wrenches its way free, and Oikawa sighs with such exasperated fondness that it breaks you a little more.

“Iwa, she’s crying.”

The Lord Chancellor grunts in agreement. “You seem to have that effect.”

Oikawa laughs, the tip of his finger running down his son’s nose. “Women die in childbirth every day. It’s a small miracle, my love,” his lips brush your cheek, nuzzling close, “that you were spared that, especially with twins. The Queen wasn’t so fortunate.”

At first, you think he’s referring to his own mother – it’s common knowledge that there were complications when she delivered the King’s younger brother and neither survived – until you catch a glint of steel from the corner of your eye. On instinct, you turn to follow it, and witness the exact moment the Queen’s head is cleaved from her body and tumbles to the floor.

Her body – kneeling in forced supplication, blood spurting from her still pumping heart – hangs there for a moment, as if waiting for the shock to register, for everyone to drink their fill of the grisly scene, before it too topples to the ground. 

An echo, playing out for you once more. 

Your maid screams, Kyoutani darting to wrench her back before she can flee. The physician pales. Startled by the sudden noise and the commotion in the room, two near identical wails break within moments of each other, your sons making their displeasure known, wriggling about and crying in your arms. You draw them closer, eyes wide, trembling like a leaf, to press a kiss against both their foreheads as you choke back a sob of your own. 

“And the woman?” Iwa asks. 

Oikawa, head on your shoulder, utterly absorbed in his children’s outbursts, doesn’t even bother looking up. He waves his fingers in front of their little faces and coos when they scrunch up in response. 

“We’ll need someone to clean up the blood. Take her tongue instead.”

[sai-int]

How would rts!simon act when it comes to pregnant reader’s hormones? Like she gets super clingy randomly or will just start crying over a cute dog reel on instagram?

combining this with the ask about reader getting super horny from pregnancy hormones too!

—so, simon can handle horny. no problem.

you climb into his lap, needy and squirmy, whining that you “just want to feel full, si, please—” and he’s already palming your belly like it’s the most precious thing in the world, lips against your temple, growling into your skin:

“y’can have it, sweet’art. whatever y’need. y’know i’ll fuck y’through anythin’”

the way you grind down on him, teary and frustrated because your body’s so sensitive—that makes him gentle in the filthiest way. slow, deep thrusts. endless praise. letting you cry it out on his cock if you have to, soothing you with soft “that’s it, atta girl, ride it out, i got ya.”

he’s obsessed with how your body changes. how much warmer you feel, your growing bump and the plush of your hips, how tight you still are. he has zero complaints—if anything, he’s addicted.

—he can also handle clingy; he actually loves when you need doting on or when you want more of his attention. he’s happy to oblige.

when you shuffle into the room in one of his shirts, lip wobbly, just wanting to be held—he drops everything. doesn’t care what he was doing. he’ll sit on the couch with you curled up on his chest for hours, rubbing your back, murmuring soft little nothings into your hair.

“you’re alright, girl. ’m not goin’ anywhere.”

likes that he can soothe you, that you trust him enough to let him be your anchor. and when you whine, apologizing for “being too much” or “annoying,” he just pulls you closer.

“y’nevertoo much, dafty. not for me.”

even if he wakes up to you sobbing at your phone screen at 3 am, he’s still there for you. he just hands you a tissue and kisses your forehead.

“y’ cryin’ over a pug wearin’ a sweater, sweet’art.”

*“i know, simon, it’s just so—“ hiccup “—small—”

he bites back a smile and holds you while you cry. rubs your belly. rubs your back. and then when you start laughing at yourself five minutes later, he kisses you again and calls you a “mental little thing.”

regardless he loves all of it. it overwhelms him sometimes, how much emotion you carry in comparison to him, how vulnerable you let yourself be with him. but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. not even the sobbing over tiktok edits of golden retrievers.

because it’s you. and every piece of you is his to protect, to love, to hold. even when you’re hormonal and feral and snotty-faced crying into his hoodie at in the dead of night.

especially then.

[homemadesterekpie]

im still such an og Hale pack enjoyer for real. i think about them all the time these days. Derek, Boyd, Erica, Isaac and Stiles just chilling together.

it starts awkwardly because they’re not used to eachother yet but the sheer instincts they all have to bond together is so strong the awkwardness feels just like background noise.

Scott having chosen the Argents while Stiles chose the wolves there’s this inevitable rift that forms between them. Stiles having been devoted to Scott for so long it’s obviously painful for him for a while and the wolves senses it.

especially Derek with his new Alpha powers, he can smell it on Stiles, his grief at losing his best friend. but he can also smell resignation and insistent determination.

Stiles does nothing in halves, when he’s in, he’s all in.

they start hanging out almost every day. not doing anything special most days. The betas train, Derek guides them, Stiles watches, he reads. Derek started going through the burnt out shell of his home and found some books and other things to salvage and let Stiles read through them.

and somehow that small thing almost moves Stiles to tears. Derek trusting him with the painful remains of his past life. Stiles is barely just starting to understand just how painful it’s all been for Derek up until now. and how it still tortures him. so having Derek casually show him the smoke smelling books and telling him he can read them if he wants to makes Stiles want to do something stupid like kiss Derek on the cheek and hug him. instead he fights tears and he thanks Derek sincerely as Derek just watches him intently.

It feels weird for Derek to have a pack now. It had been him and Laura for so long that his wolf had been content with that fact. but becoming an Alpha changed everything and he doesn’t know how Laura had been able to keep from changing people to add to their pack for all those years in New York because the drive to do so was almost impossible to resist. but Laura had always been the strong one, she had been raised to be the Alpha while Derek had been raised to become her beta. but he hopes he can make her proud. he hopes he can be half the Alpha she was.

its a relief to have numbers though. it feels safer and it’s easier to breath. he has people to take care of now. he has people to protect and provide for. he has people to patrol his territory with. he can secure his territory’s borders. he can start parley with the hunters occupying his territory.

it’s Stiles who brings it up. they’ve been a pack for a while now. almost a year. summer vacation is around the corner. the betas are strong now, they know how to fight, they know how to kill. meanwhile, Stiles has been going through Derek’s books obsessively. He started taking notes on loose paper but then started transcribing them more neatly into notebooks.

one late afternoon, when the pack is spending the day at the small lake deep in the preserve, Stiles sitting on the bank and reading, he asks Derek if they should consider dealing with the hunters.

ever since the pack has started growing stronger and more confident: patrolling the borders every night, contacting neighbouring packs to tekindle old alliances, Derek finally having his burnt out house torn down. the hunters have been making themselves known more insistently.

Chris Argent has been showing up with his daughter in the preserve hiking, more than once, both of them armed to the teeth. Strangers smelling of gunpowder and wolfsbane have been spotted in town a lot more often. actually, Stiles is pretty sure they’re being followed.

even Stiles who doesn’t have enhanced senses, spotted them all over town. once when out with his dad for dinner, a duo of them had come into the diner and sat at a booth not far from them. Stiles was certain he had seen them before. yes, he could swear he had seen them when he drove back home a few days ago after spending the day with the betas.

Stiles had watched as his dad had tensed when he also noticed the hunters sitting at their booth, ordering food. it was only after, when they were leaving the diner that his dad had asked Stiles if everything was good.

Stiles has told his father about werewolves a few months prior. he hadn’t gone into too much details but the sheriff knew about the pack and that Stiles was part of it. so Stiles shared to his dad his suspicions about the hunters. the next day, the sheriff gave Stiles a gun and took him to the gun range a few towns over. Stiles already knew how to use a gun but it had been a while since handling one so he made sure Stiles reacquainted himself. he also told Stiles that he would start keeping an eye on the Argents and waved away Stiles’ protests about not being worth endangering his job.

so this is why Stiles had to let Derek know they should definitely consider making a move. Derek just says yeah they should. he also confesses having been following the hunters’ movements for a while now. Stiles is taken aback because he had no idea of this??? and the betas hadn’t either from their reactions. they all stopped their swimming to look at Derek with various looks of surprise and betrayal. especially Boyd, whom had naturally worked his way to the second in command spot at Derek’s side.

so they decide to have an impromptu pack meeting right there on the bank of the small lake. they have a picnic and they talk things through as a pack, together. it feels so right to do so. this is what things are all about, Stiles distantly thinks as he watches and listens to Derek explain the hunters’ patterns of movement. a wolf pack, deep in the wilderness of their territory, ensuring the survival of their own.

they decide that Stiles will be sent with Boyd to the main Argent house and deliver the date and time and place for a parley meeting. Stiles recites the words he prepared beforehand , making sure to use the terms he learned from all the books he read.

there will be no violence. but if the hunters were to break that rule, the pack would be forced to take measures to protect themselves.

Chris’ face stays hard and impassive as he listens to Stiles but Allison isn’t as good at hiding her emotions, her face betraying her disdain and hatred. Stiles can’t help thinking those emotions don’t suit her, it makes her look a lot like her mother. the entire time Stiles speaks, she keeps her eyes on Boyd but the imposing beta doesn’t even bat an eyelash. It’s only when Allison’s eyes move to Stiles with the same animosity, that Boyd takes a step closer to Stiles, almost moving in front on him. a soft rumble growing louder the longer Allison looks at Stiles.

Chris’ eyes snap to Boyd for a second before falling to Allison and he stares her down until she has no choice but to lower her eyes, whole body shaking in anger. Boyd stops growling but he doesn’t step down or away from Stiles.

when they finally leave, Boyd walks with Stiles at his back and keeps his eyes the two hunters until they’re both back inside the house and Stiles is safe in the jeep.

Boyd and Stiles share a look when they’re both sat in the jeep. words aren’t necessary here. Boyd has done more than words could ever express so Stiles just pats Boyd’s shoulder, smiling and then he grips it for a few seconds. he’d prefer to hug him but in the jeep it would be too awkward so this would have to do for now.

not long after, the meeting happens. Derek, Boyd and Stiles arrive early. it’s happening at the outskirts of town, almost at the border of the territory. Erica and Isaac are stationed close by and they howl in warning when the hunters approach.

when Scott gets out of the SUV along with Chris, Allison and two other unfamiliar hunters, he’s the only one who reacts. he gasps and his jaw falls open in indignation but he immediately shuts it and rage courses through his veins. he never thought he would ever be feeling like this when it came to Scott but here he is. the gun in the waistband of his jeans at his back burns as his hand itches with the urge to take it out. he could shoot Scott, just to show him a lesson, he doesn’t even have wolfsbane bullets, he’d recover. but this meeting is more important than his ex best friend’s idiotic decisions.

he’s seething in it when Derek’s big hand falls to his shoulder and squeezes for a moment. Stiles calms down almost instantly. his breathing calms and he touches Derek’s hand softly with his fingers in acknowledgment, in thanks and Derek lets go. Scott’s eyes follows the movements and vague disgust blooms on his face.

Derek openly stares at Scott as he walks up along with Chris and his daughter. his stare is hard and unforgiving and he stares until Scott lowers his own gaze to the ground, fidgeting.

Derek leads the meeting and he’s surprised when Chris is the one to lead his own party. he was certain Allison was the one in charge now. She turned 18 and had finished her training months prior. that meant Chris and his men didn’t consider her ready for some reason. it must be because of the way she can’t seem to be able to keep her feelings in check. her hatred and discomfort at being in their presence is so palpable, Derek couldn’t avoid the smell even if he wanted to.

the terms of the Hale pack are brought forward. Hunters have a month to leave Hale territory or face repercussions. if they want to parley in the future, after leaving the territory, they will reach out to the pack for a meeting, the proper way. any other manner of ways used to reach out to the pack, will be considered a breach of the terms and the pack will be forced to take action.

Derek is implacable, his word is law. Stiles feels it in his bones, the skin at the back of his neck prickles with goosebumps. the wind picks up, the trees trashing with it and it becomes undeniable just how powerful Derek truly is at this moment.

the nematon is alive. Stiles has been working tirelessly for months with Deaton to purify it and then secure it’s connection to the Hale bloodline. tonight was the first test in checking the connection and the result is more than promising and Stiles can’t help giving a little smirk.

Chris looks around them furtively, feigning calm but there’s beads of sweat forming at his forehead. he watches Derek for a long time as the trees trash and creak under the force of the wind around them. the ground starts to shake slightly, pebbles and gravel rattling about.

it goes on until Chris finally extends a hand toward Derek and accepts the terms. Derek simply grips Chris’ hand in his own and they shake on it. the ground stops shaking and the the wind slowly die down to a gentle breeze.

Erica and Isaac show up at that moment, making themselves known and the entire pack watch as Chris, Allison, Scott and the two other hunters walk back to the SUV and drive away.

Stiles knows they’re out of earshot once the betas’ tense postures finally relaxes. Derek stays tense for much longer but that’s only before his senses are sharper than the betas.

Stiles and the betas celebrate by sharing hugs and a few nuzzles to cheeks. then Stiles walks over to his Alpha and just has to wait him out a few more seconds before Derek’s posture also relaxes.

he reaches out to place a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and pulls him into his personal space. he pushes his forehead to Stiles’ own and they breath the same air for a few moments. Stiles lets his eyes fall shut and he grips Derek’s henley at his side.

eventually, they separate and Derek’s hand shifts to lay to the side of his neck, thumb brushing back forth. Stiles can’t look away from Derek’s gorgeous face, his heart pounding in his chest. emotions surge up inside of him and the next thing you know Stiles is kissing Derek on the lips, arms around those broad, strong shoulders.

his uncontrollable emotions seem to burst inside of him and tears prickle at his eyes behind his tightly shut eyelids. he wants to give Derek everything. everything he has, everything he is. he wants Derek to own it all.

the Alpha must feel it all because when he puts his arms around Stiles he squeezes him so tight it borders on painful but Stiles doesn’t even notice it.

when they finally let go of eachother, the betas are gone. they probably left pretty quickly, giving them privacy. they probably went ahead to wait for them at the diner where they said they would regroup after the meeting.

Derek entwines his fingers with Stiles’ before pulling him gently towards the waiting camaro. Stiles steps up quickly and lets go of his fingers to instead hug Derek’s entire arm, smiling brightly. he may let out a few giggles, he’s so giddy he can’t help it.

after the diner, Stiles invites Derek over and they end up watching a movie in the living room since his dad is out pulling a double shift but Stiles can’t seem to concentrate on any of it. after the movie, Stiles asks Derek if he wants to sleep over. he can’t look at Derek in the eyes when he asks because it’s actually the first time Stiles does and there’s arousal thrumming in his veins that he knows for a fact Derek can smell.

he slowly makes his way up the stairs, knowing Derek will follow. at the landing he takes off his t-shirt and drops it to the floor. his jeans, underwear and socks are next, then he hears the creaking of the stairs and he knows Derek is almost at the landing.

he enters his bedroom, still keeping it slow but he chances a look back from under his lashes to watch Derek enter his bedroom with all the grace of the apex predator he truly is.

a shiver runs up Stiles’ spine and goosebumps spreads over his entire body. Derek’s eyes are glowing blood red and he’s fixated on Stiles so intently, it’s like he can feel the gaze on his skin like a physical touch.

heart pounding in his chest, he breaks eye contact to climb into his bed and settle comfortably onto his back. their eyes meet again and he watches as the Alpha stalks stalks deeper into his bedroom. their eye contact break again when Derek pulls off his henley and then Stiles’ eyes are naturally pulled down to watch Derek undo his belt.

he’s panting as Derek pushes down his jeans and underwear at the same time and he spreads his legs almost on instincts. slowly oh so slowly, Derek climbs into bed to settle onto top of Stiles and in between his spread thighs.

Stiles rummage under his pillow until his hand finds the bottle of lube he left there earlier in the day exactly for this. he presses it to Derek’s hand. he doesn’t want to wait anymore. he needs it, he needs it so bad.

Derek doesn’t use the lube right away though, instead he folds Stiles almost in half and opens him up with his mouth and tongue for a long time. Stiles squirms and moans, his dick so hard it hurts but he won’t come. he knows he won’t and he doesn’t want to, he wants to come on Derek’s dick, like he should but he’s already close so fucking close.

when Derek finally pushes two fingers into him Stiles is whinny and he’s panting hard. he knows he’s babbling but he’s not sure what he’s saying. when the third finger goes in his ass it starts making an obscene squelching sound as Derek’s fingers thrusts in and out of him. there’s no discomfort at all and he knows he’s ready, he’s so ready. he tells Derek as much and Derek who’s also panting at this point, takes out his fingers and strokes the lube onto his dick before moving his knees up a little for better leverage and lines himself up.

he kisses Stiles as he breaches him and continues to kiss him as he slowly pushes until he’s balls deep. Stiles can only moan and grip Derek’s shoulders hard as the stretch borders on painful for a moment until his body adjusts.

he doesn’t even have to say anything for Derek to know exactly when the discomfort of the stretch abates because the second it does Derek starts moving. slow steady thrusts that leaves Stiles whining into Derek’s kisses.

slowly but steadily, Derek picks up the pace and then they’re both panting too hard to kiss so they pant into eachother’s mouth for a while, Stiles sometimes babbling unintelligibly. Derek then moves his kisses to Stiles’ cheek, down his throat and settling there. he lavishes Stiles’s throat in open mouthed kisses and starts making a constant rumbling sound in his chest that Stiles can feel under his own skin.

with a hand in Derek’s hair holding him in place at his throat, he slides his other hand down to Derek’s ass to edge him on and he starts begging his Alpha to go harder. Derek doesn’t need to be told twice, on the next thrust he slams back in so hard Stiles screams.

after that, Derek fucks him so hard it’s hard to make any sound. the wolf is growling on top of him, leaving bite marks at his throat and Stiles arches into the thrusts, pleasure climbing until he’s on the edge.

then Derek’s thrusts go erratic and he’s growling louder before he pierces the soft skin of Stiles’ neck at his shoulder with his sharp teeth and Stiles is coming. spurts after spurts of come painting the length of his stomach and torso while Derek spills deep inside of him.

there’s a moment of stillness, Stiles breathing really hard and Derek twitching with aftershocks. the moment passes and Derek lowers himself gently to rest his weight completely on top of Stiles. Stiles lets out a small contented sigh. he’s so happy. he’s so sated. he’s done it. he gave Derek everything. he’s Derek’s now. he’s so happy.

when they’ve both regained their breathing and Stiles starts to doze off, Derek nuzzles his cheek and whispers “you’re mine, i love you so much.” in Stiles’ ear.

Stiles’ heart flutters and warmth spreads in his chest.

“yes, God yes, i love you too.” Stiles whispers back.

[murkyrealms]

I keep seeing people confused by the dislike of Lucien and why we don’t like him for Elain…. First of all Elain doesn’t even like him for herself. And secondly, I don’t know if it’s just me but after acomaf I sincerely stopped liking Lucien. the way he tried to kidnap feyre? And then even hearing her tell him she didn’t want to go back, helped in the deal with hybern to forcibly steal her back which also RUINED nesta and elains lives (yes ianthe sold the girls out, but she’d never have been able to make that deal with hybern without the bargain deal between tamlin and hybern already in play.) and then continued to treat feyre poorly in acowar after her sisters were already forcibly turned, half of feyres family injured to an extent that she was worried they would die… and Lucien kept up the shit attitude all because of her feelings for Rhys and the SC no longer being her home… as if he hadn’t witnessed her abuse first hand, only caring to go with feyre to the NC to see it Elain was “worth it.” Not to make sure feyre got away safely. Blaming her for springs fall, and the ruination of his “home” as if he hadn’t heard her more than once tell him straight up you will REGRET IT if you take me like this. If you kidnap me. Like…. Lucien may not be the worst character but he’s also not someone of great integrity, he’s not what I would consider noble. that alone is enough for me to believe Elain deserves BETTER Than a male who stood idle and participated in the cloistering of feyre and watched her fall apart with little to no effort in helping her, going as far to forcibly try and take her against her will. Why would anyone want that for Elain? Better yet why is feyre even still friends with him? I don’t trust him at all, especially with mor at the beginning of acosf drawing attention to the fact he’s biased in his reports because of his friendship with jurian and vassa, and that even Elains presence isn’t enough to make that not happen, and later on Lucien even being grossly uncomfortable at Cassian bringing up Elain to him, Lucien making it clear he’s not always in the city to see his mate. Not Elain, his mate. Sighhhh. I fear it’s not hard to look at the text and figure out why many people no longer like Lucien as much as they did in book one. And that doesn’t even cover the interactions he’s had with Elain, that point out rather glaringly why people wouldn’t want them together.

[403tarot]

. . . ♡ BANGCHAN AS A BOYFRIEND – 남친

to start this, it seems like only recently bangchan truly understood the weight a relationship can carry in someone’s life. in my 2025 reading about his love life, i saw that he went through a major heartbreak, and this year his focus would be more on his professional and mental growth. right now, his view on relationships is that they have the power to elevate someone toward success in many areas of life, but just as easily, they can drag someone down into failure with the same intensity. that’s why he feels that relationships need to be built with preparation and maturity from both sides, not just love.

chan longs for a solid relationship, despite the ups and downs that come with being human. he wants someone who can ride those highs and lows with him. someone who, even when going through personal struggles, doesn’t dump all of that into the relationship or use it as an excuse to treat him badly, be distant, or lash out. just as he’d try to keep those things separate, he hopes for someone who can do the same. (i'd say he’s likely had some tough experiences in that area.)

he’s not into relationships full of constant drama or unresolved issues that drag on forever. people who bottle things up, hold grudges, and throw them back in his face later as a "gotcha!" moment really discourage him. he tends to pull away from pessimistic, emotionally distant people, or anyone who doesn’t believe in the relationship, or in him. that kind of energy is a huge turn-off for him!

on the slightly more negative side, even though he has the will and self-awareness to be proactive, take accountability, and make real changes, sometimes bangchan lets himself get too worn out and prefers to sweep problems under the rug instead of facing them head-on. he might hope they’ll just fade away on their own, but by now i think he’s had enough frustrating experiences to realize that doesn’t really work.

like anyone else, he makes mistakes and has his own flaws, and i'd say this is one area he still needs to work on, especially since it goes against a lot of the values he holds when it comes to building a healthy relationship.

i also see that bangchan wants a private relationship. he seems like the kind of person who would prefer to keep his partner out of the public eye, in a protective kind of way. he’s definitely the romantic, caring type, someone who sees the person he loves as precious and feels a strong sense of responsibility toward them (especially considering how public his own life is).

for him, a relationship should be built by two people equally invested in making it work. and he has that initiative, he wants to dive in headfirst and feel that his partner is just as committed as he is. chan’s very romantic and charming. in a relationship, he sees the person he’s with as The One, someone he envisions a real future with (marriage and all). like, he thinks, “one day, she’s going to be my wife.”

he’s the type to get a little obsessed (in a cute way) with the person he’s dating, and he’s definitely emotionally intense. when he’s in love, the whole world just feels different... brighter, softer, more magical. i think he’s one of those people who absolutely loves being in love, loves having someone to come home to, to hug, to share something beautiful with.

he wants to create a sense of stability and trust with his partner, make her feel safe with him and in the relationship so they can start building a long-term future together. so, that seems to be the mindset he wants both of them to have when they’re in a relationship.

book a reading with me and read me yap about idols being just like this with you 🫵🏼 to get delulu. check my pinned to know more <3

[johnegbertlover413]

Alotta peoole, especially June fans, act like homestuck is ABOUT queer people, NO. ITS NOT. It never was and it was never planned to be.

Homestuck STRICTLY and obviously about ISOLATION. It’s litterly in the god damn TITLE. And of course u can be isolated because of gay but most of the characters aren’t honestly. Saving John for last,

Rose matured quickly but superficially so she doesn’t trust anyone

Dave is a horrible person so no one wants to be around him

Jane suffers constant assassination attempts to the point she can’t leave the house and falls back into Crocker corp as something safe, ending uo very skeptical (doesn’t help that Roxy, Crocker corp hater, is one of them seriously wtf)

I don’t think I need to explain the other kids

Karkats a mutant and can’t let anyone know

Kanaya is the antithesis to troll culture

Aradia fucking died and lost all feeling then was physically separated by a metal robot

Vriska has spider mom and other influences that cause her to ruin allll her relationships

Terezi has her attachment to vriska messing with her other relationships

I don’t feel like doing all of it but Even characters that don’t matter as much to the overall story have the same fuckung themeeee

Feferi has to constantly hide as to not be culled by condy to not take tha thrown

Eridan gets no hoes

I brought up June earlier because NONE OF HER “““““FANS”””””” UNDERSTAND THE SOURCE OF HER LONENES. They make it about her being transsss uwu which isn’t in the text at alllll and never will be no matter how you read into a one off line of dialogue.

It feels like they are doing it JUST to give John truama uwu because they can’t understand what makes characters sympathetic without it. Not even with out it just without them constantly whining about how much they suffer soooo much. They need to act like dad Egbert was some evil patriarcy man who forced june into a MAN NO EMOTION NO FEELING role (despite the fact he constantly pours his heart out about how much he loves John). At best theyll portray “June” as just going after her father’s role because she’s grieving and dysphoria and uhm blah blah blah or something which also is insanely retarded because it’s a straight forward lie.

But anyway it’s all ignoring the fact that JOHN EGBERT IS THE MOST AUTISTIC CHARACTER IN EXISTENCE.

I swear hussie himself could have put fucking books on autism in dads study, transcribe the whole thing, specifically specify Taht they are to Better understand John n bitches would be like “ooooooh he’s ignoring his child’s obvious gender dysphoria and blaming it on AUTISM. Classic abusive parent smh”

Lemme list out every single autistic traits n experiences show in my beatiful goddess princess Johnathan Egbert. I love lists

-he has big explosive reactions to things deemed as trivial by other characters but matter so much to him (Betty Crocker, how he thinks about his father blah blah) also referred to as tantrums by other characters despite technically not fitting the criteria and fitting in much more with melt downs (like he doesn’t liek Betty Crocker so he freaks out when a food he likes IS BETTY CROCKER)

-his reactions to more major events are much more low-key . His dad’s a business man? Curled up on the bed horrified. Dads dead? Oh no. He’s still very sad he just lashes out in other ways, the whole ship melt down n avoiding processing it by focusing on his special interests(like how he started to hate con air)

-he very clearly has special interests as mentioned last point. He rants to Kanaya (my favorite page) and meenah about Mathew McConaughey and paranormal lore respectively Not really caring/ noticing that neither of them give a fuck.

-he is really gullible like he’ll go along with what rose says and with what terezi says 1 to 1 because he doesn’t really think like that. The most obvious answer is vriska, she was 100% using him against terezi but he doesn’t really understand that EVER even when he realizes that she’s crazy he doesn’t realize that vriska was toatluu using him. Not to say vriska doesnt likeeee john ever but they basically fuckung say that their realatiojship started out as daverezi envy.

-he is the most uo front of all the kids. Not THAT Crazy for general people but he doesn’t really hide any of his emotions beyond just not being able to process them and compared to litterly every other character it’s noteable

Before yoh freaks say it I’m not saying June can’t exist because John’s autistic. YOU are just applying johns very fucking obvious traits to transness that both makes those traits miserable (his special interests and bluntness being covers or whatever) and erases johns ore existing character

Nothing wrong with having a non cannon head cannon you don’t have to make it retroactively cannon! Stop eith the delusions !!!

[hcneymooners]

hello, hello.

i've been debating making this post, but i’ve been thinking a lot about how my work often references God, religion, faith in general, and all the things in between. as someone raised in both the south and caribbean culture, i thought maybe this could be helpful for others trying to navigate queerness and religion—especially the mess and clarity that come with deconstruction.

note: this isn’t meant to tell anyone how to feel about faith or how to navigate their own path—this is just what’s been true for me. if it helps even one person feel a little less alone or a little more seen, then that’s enough. read with grace, take what you need, and leave the rest behind.

for a long time, i aimed to be good. good at school. good to people even when it meant letting them take advantage of me. i convinced myself that as long as i was pure, i would be okay. that it was that simple, and that somehow, i’d figured it out before anyone else. but i didn’t account for anger. or desire. or being a lesbian. what did lana say in that one song? “we had a deal and i fucked it up when / i made the decision to become someone.” so here's a little of my survival guide. for context, i was raised roman catholic.

first comes the work of reshaping the imagery. i released the God of my childhood and awakened the God of my womanhood. i began to replace “him” with “her,” then “Him” with “Her.” i already know some might see that as blasphemous, but it made praying easier which was something i wasn’t ready to lose. the universe is God to me. the universe is love, and so is God, and so i trust Her. She is Him, and He is Her. the universe, to me, can also be a woman who has big eyes and a dark face and makes me feel like i might be staring into myself. it’s easier to come back to God when i picture it differently. when i strip the man to the bone and rebuild into the woman i see, it’s so much easier to pray. she feels like my mother.

"offline or online, i am still connected." i think that’s how i feel about faith; i’m still connected to believing in something. it’s just that what i believe has changed and expanded. it doesn’t harm me. it helps me return to myself and shows me the way home. it’s easier to pray to Mary when i’m scared on a plane, to tell her that i know i’ll make it through because she wouldn’t place me in something i could not get through.

an altar can be anywhere. i used to feel guilty about not having a bible verse in my bio or the bible app on my phone. but i don’t need those things to make my prayer real. you don’t either. your love will pour out and stain the feet of the God before you, and They will wipe your mouth. They will understand that it’s prayer.

physicality. this was important to me when i was unpacking the feeling of being wrong or impure. if the universe condensed into one person, i’d ask her to lie down with me. we’d be pressed knee to knee and leg to leg. i’d think of her hips on top of mine, wide and inviting like the moon. i guess we are naked if i take a step back, but it’s not at all sexual. it’s just the understanding that she is holding me. babying me. and i’ve always wanted someone to. i will feel her touch me, and i’ll try to say thank you, because gratitude has been engraved in me. my mouth will move and nothing will come out, but she'll hear me.

the talking can be constant if you need it to be. i’m always speaking to God, about God, my understanding of it. it’s not organized. i haven’t constructed anything bigger than myself. restructuring kind of feels like waking up tangled in a spider’s web and standing carefully, your feet sticky as you navigate the threads. i took care not to break some of them but snapped others, creating space for new weaving. God becomes synonymous with the world, and you will find faith everywhere.

others may judge, but stick to what works for you.

another realization: it never really leaves you, and that’s fine. it’s also fine if you want to hold on.

sometimes faith blends. i work with water and have my crystals, listen to protection frequencies, and still buy my virgin Mary candle in all of its pink and radiant glory to light in the bathroom. i pray every time i board a plane, after a nightmare, or whenever a wave of unease hits. each time, it’s a Hail Mary.

also: resources. my God, find people who interpret with grace. below are some of my favorite blogs.

has content about faith: @ginwhitlock, @boykeats, @ohholydyke, ethel cain when she was active and i'm being so serious. has content that has made me see the world differently & renew faith in myself: @podencos @watermotif @cocainejuul @kristina100000 @eatpussypraylove @chloeinletters @anxeious

most importantly, i’m taking your hand until you can hold your own. i’m looking at you, because i really mean this: there is nothing wrong with you. you were nine. or thirteen. or fifteen. or twenty-one. or twenty-three. or. i’m saying it because i’d have given anything to hear that back then.

it would’ve been Heaven to me.

if you want to reach out, my inbox and messages are always open.

love you.

allyson. x

[laniemae]

Fuck it’s the final chapter fuck it’s the final chapter FUCK. Another death prediction cuz I’m crashing out someone’s dying tomorrow.

Isono: rip

Harada: rip

Chiba: rip

Kamimura: rip

Hayashi: I’m really on the fence with hayashi like I definitely feel like she’s gonna die this chapter but I’m not sure but like aaaaa. She’s done quite a lot this chapter and has been pretty crucial in making sure the group doesn’t fuck themselves over with the shit that’s happening. And especially with how suspicious’s Tamba’s death threat was and the culprit leading hayashi on this wild goose chase makes me think that the note was less to kill tamba but to get hayashi in a vulnerable position to kill her, although it’d be hard to. But I’m not even sure if whoever’s writing the note did actually plan this to kill or it’s gonna go haywire. There’s also the whole thing with hayashi getting the singular vote from cage game which is gonna fuck up the trial so badly. And of course I’m getting isono flashbacks here, which I’m thinking a lot she may be the victim of this case. But I really don’t feel like she’s gonna be the killer because of that vote thing.

Wada: Wada’s a character I’ve been suspecting to die in chapter 5 quite a bit from the start. Yknow he has all the protag vibes and the ahoge it’d be fitting. And with his whole monologue in the greenhouse about survivors guilt and the whole thing of the lily (which if my battle Royale theory isn’t true could imply that wada kills and gets away with it but I feel that may be too obvious). There’s been this whole thing of Wada’s deteriorating mental and physical state from the loss of all his friends and him not eating anymore. So it’d be an incredibly tragic death if wada dies in chapter 5, to have him waste away and die, giving up on life. I do get the feeling that he’d be a victim to fit with the symbolism I was talking about (but you know my whole symbolism theories mean nothing lmao) and with him being incredibly weak itd be very hard for him to pull off a murder.

Sasaki: rip

Ojima: this is probably the only time (minus chapter 1) where Ojima isn’t my top pick for dying lmfao. But now that makes me worried I’ve jinxed him and he’s gonna die because of that. But anyway the whole thing with Ojima in chapter 5 is interesting especially with the whole drunk Ojima plotline which came out of nowhere. But I think it’s most likely him trying to get another coping mechanism after not trusting his daydreams anymore after hurting Hasegawa accidentally and now he’s slipping into an addiction. If he’s gonna constantly get himself wasted as fuck all the time that’d make him an easy victim, but it could just be a feeling but chapter 5 always has the most batshit murders where the victims are super important so it’d feel kinda weird if someone just knifed him while drunk. Victim Ojima I could see because like, they have to break up one of the couples in the final chapter. Especially with Ojima’s accidental love confession to Hiroaki but like we’ve had multiple confessions after that so everythings kinda wild. But to me more people feel more likely and have had more importance in this chapter. Ojima hasn’t really had a big role in any deadly life yet so maybe he could die or something. But I don’t think he’d be a killer since how extremely distressed he was at accidentally hurting Hasegawa just a little bit so I don’t think he’d be capable of that. But there could be a thing if he’s not the victim he’s a third party or a witness in some way and believes he committed the murder or something.

Okazaki: rip

Hama: rip

Tsuno: rip

Hiroaki: ohhh god Hiroaki. The guy who screamed chapter 5 death since day 1. So to get it out he’s easily the most likely to die this chapter but since it seems so obvious I’m not sure if it’s going to be a red herring. He’s been deteriorating extremely badly when tamba started accusing him of writing the death threats and they started fighting so badly Hiroaki slipped into taking drugs again and has been acting out a lot more he’s been very important lately. And like especially with the most recent development of him fighting with tamba which lead to him pushing her down the stairs and breaking her leg in a fashion that was structured like a BDA. And then Hiroaki proceeding to disappear for the next few hours and everyone thinking he’s died. Which again is a massive character moment which makes you think “oh yeah he’s gonna die” but since he had both a killer and victim scare back to back this kinda makes me feel he won’t die but ahahhahajaalj. Hiroaki is absolutely a character who’d be an amazing compartment in a chapter 5 murder case like nagito or Kokichi but again I’m so confused as it feels too obvious??? Ok but to be honest I feel like if he’s gonna die he’s more likely gonna be a killer than a victim. He’s already been deteriorating so badly and in loyalty game it was revealed that he has been considering killing someone and perhaps targeting Hasegawa, so I could see him snap. But he’s also been losing all hope on the outside world. Chapter 5 killer Hiroaki would be an incredibly interesting parallel to how sasaki was the chapter 1 killer as well. And about Sasaki, Hiroaki telling wada about sasaki’s journal and how she wants to get it published is kinda giving me a lot of “Hiroaki’s telling wada this so he’s gonna die and make sure someone else would know when they escape” vibes.

Tamba: like hayashi, tamba has also been super important this chapter and has played a really big role with her call to action from the death threat she received. I personally don’t think whoever was writing the death threat did it with full intention to kill her as I feel that’d be kinda a weird choice, along with all the other weird stuff happening. It was most likely to put her in a riot and cause chaos and perhaps get to hayashi. Now there’s the whole thing with her breaking her leg which we’d have to see where that goes but it’s only gonna cause more chaos til someone snaps. I’m not exactly getting the feeling she’s gonna die? Like I know she’s been important this chapter and that’s a major red flag but with the death threat I think it’d be too simple of a plan if she were to get killed and especially in the state she’s in it’d be very hard for her to kill someone.

Hasegawa: I can see both sides for this one. Hasegawa is a character that less people are suspecting of dying this chapter because more people have had more stuff to do but I’m not sure to judge just by that. Recently hasegawa has been getting more impulsive, risk taking and spiteful towards people which makes me wonder if this is going to lead to a big event or something. And especially with that whole fourth wall breaking scene. Hasegawa feels like a character that would be really good in a danganronpa finale helping figure out what’s going on in the killing game but I’m not even sure these students will have that privilege knowing they’d just be let out presumably after the 5th trial. And if the fourth wall break will become important in pink or that was more for the future and staffside. If he’s gonna die I really feel more like he’d be a killer from what I’ve mentioned before. He’s getting kinda desperate and perhaps that could lead to a murder, but it’s hasegawa so I’m not sure.

Watari: rip

Yanagi: I’m really not sure about my stance on Yanagi for if he’s gonna live or not. Lots of people have been saying he may die this chapter but I feel like there’s people more likely than him. But there’s the whole thing with him finally confessing his love to Hayashi recently which of course would be a major death sigh but as well we got a Hiroaki/Ojima love confession which has me all over the place thinking at least one of the couples HAS to be separated this chapter because we can’t have happiness here. Yanagi has also been the role of medic for a little bit before falling very sick like everyone else which could come into play. I’m not really sure if I’m thinking more of a killer or victim for Yanagi here as I’m not really sure what role he’s gonna play.

So basically my final predictions for this chapter are

Victim: Wada

Killer: Hiroaki

I’ve never been right with my symbolism theories and yelling that a character is gonna die but these two are giving me very chapter 5 deaths for both of them.

I can really imagine how tragic this case would look like, Hiroaki made a vouch to protect Wada in chapter 4 and now he’s gotten to such an extreme point he kills the person he made a whole outfit for and wanted to help. Wada has been wasting away for the entirety of chapter 5 and questioning if he should even be alive at this point. And for him to just die in a hellhole like this without being able to grow would be so sad.

Hiroaki was doing better at the start of chapter 5 when Ojima tried to help him to apologise to everyone. Only to be taunted with his drugs being placed back in his room and Tamba constantly accusing him of everything. With Hiroaki slipping back into being aggressive and antisocial, for all of this building up to him snapping would be a level of tragedy on the same level as wada. And since I mentioned that Ojima hasn’t had a proper role in a deadly like, a trial like this would be extremely devastating for having to witness one of the people the killer is closest to breaking down. Hiroaki and Wada have been very important characters and with their respective roles in chapter 5, to me it feels like this potential case could be the most likely, but again I’ve made points for other characters, and am wondering if this may feel too obvious.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Private Dances [9]

Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info • series masterlist

Summary: You kiss Blue's scars.

A/N: A huge thank you to the epic @lonelyisamyw-0love for tipping my ko-fi, this series is especially for them💚

Warnings: Kissing, petnames, scars, small mention to previous trauma/torture, outercourse, rutting, multiple orgasms, choking (blue recieving), overuse of italics, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a dancer (but like Blue is so lovesick), not beta read, swearing, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

There are 5 main ‘stars’ in the club: Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal. Crystal is usually the favourite but is currently in Blue’s bad books for reasons unknown to the reader. Reader is a backup dancer that Blue has nicknamed Lion.

Word Count: 2430

“I think it’s best if you stay in my rooms for a few days, Lion,” Blue’s tone is soft, careful. He doesn’t want to aggravate previous disagreements you’ve had.

You nod, hugging your arms against yourself as you sit on the sofa, looking at nothing. Someone was trying to frame you. And it was pretty fucking obvious who it was. 

“Just so some rumours can spread, let everyone think you’re in serious trouble and I’m upset with you. Then I can get some of my more trusted staff to pry, to see who did this.” He walks around to face you, watching you nervously. He bites his lip, his eyebrows pinched together. Seeing you like this… hurts.

He kneels down in front of you, “Lion?” 

You look up to him, your eyes meeting, and he lets out an audible sigh of relief. Gently, he puts his warm hands on your knees, lightly stroking you.

“It was Crystal.” 

“What?” His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you’re not sure if it is from him disbelieving you or from rage. 

“Crystal,” you swallow and repeat. “She’s got it in for me.” 

Blue pauses as he thinks, and anxiety settles into your gut. Despite Crystal not being Blue’s favourite anymore, or anywhere near his good books, she is still one of the highest earners for the club. 

“Why do you think that?” He asks softly. 

“She…” you breathe in, it sounded stupid now that you were saying it out loud, like a child trying to tell their parent there was a monster under the bed. “Songbird said… she holds a grudge and I’ve seen her,” you shrug defeatedly and look away from him, “give me dirty looks.” You shake your head. “I know this sounds fucking stupid, I-”

“Shh,” his voice is soothing, gentle. Lightly he touches your cheek and urges you back to face him, his dark brown eyes staring imploringly at you. “It’s not stupid.” 

“She was your favourite.” “Lion-”

“She makes a lot of money for the club.”

“Lion-”

“I-”

“Lion,” he takes both of your cheeks in his hands and strokes your skin with his thumbs. “Thank you for telling me, I’m going to look into this, I promise you. And if I find out that Crystal,” he says the name with disdain, “has done anything to you, let alone try to frame you, or forge my signature,” when you were put on one on one dances flashes in your head, “I will deal with her thoroughly.”

You shiver. And he smiles softly. 

“I don’t care if she makes the most money, I wouldn’t even care if she made all the money. I will not have anyone disrespecting you, you understand?” 

You nod and his smile widens. 

“Am I that terrifying that you didn’t want to bring this up?” He tries to joke, you can hear it in his voice. But there’s a twinge of worry floating just underneath. 

“Yes.” You say playfully, and he giggles. 

He leans up to kiss you sweetly, barely parting his lips. He moans softly when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, sighing happily. 

When you pull back he’s got a cheeky expression plastered all over his face. “Am I that terrifying when you’ve got your hand around my throat?” 

You snort. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” He chuckles. “How?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug and smile. “It’s part of it, maybe.” 

He tilts his head to the side in question.

“It’s like I’ve got a tiger by the throat.”

“Not a Lio-” He starts, and you hush him.

“No, Blue. Not like a lion.” 

He giggles and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’m well aware you could kill me with a swipe of your paw,” you fiddle with his tie. “But you let me instead.” 

“Oh, Lion,” he strokes your arm, “that’s not how it is at all.” He says affectionately. “I’m no tiger,” you open your mouth to protest, but he quickly continues, “not for you. If you clicked your fingers and told me to lay down and die, I would.” 

You shake your head. 

“I would,” he nods slightly, “I wouldn’t even have any choice in the matter, my heart would just stop because you said so. My head has no control.” 

“You’re silly.” 

“I’m truthful.”

“Doesn’t stop you from being silly.” You kiss his nose and he giggles, squeezing you tight. 

“Alright, it doesn’t stop me from being silly.” He presses a little closer, nuzzling his forehead against yours, the action a little cat like. He breathes in deeply, “Come, let’s go to bed.” 

You look at the clock on the far wall, it’s late, of course it is. But the club is still open for a good few more hours. Blue doesn’t usually retire until the day is done and dusted. 

“It’s early.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t care. I’m fucking fed up with it.” There’s no heat towards you in his words. “Besides, need to let everyone think I’m punishing you for stealing from me.” His tone falls a little at the end, as if the thought alone is enough to bring over a grey cloud. 

You kiss him again, just as soft and sweet. “Let’s go to bed.” 

. 

You’re sitting in bed on what has become your side, freshly showered and reading one of Blue’s many books. 

He comes into the room still drying his hair, but already dressed in his pyjamas: boxers and a worn but soft cotton t-shirt. He smiles at you. 

“You look so good in this bed.” 

“Your bed.” You close the book. 

“Our bed.” He places the towel neatly on the side before kneeling on the mattress and crawling over to you with a wicked grin. 

You snort as he tries to rub his damp hair on you playfully, putting your palm flat on his forehead to stop him. He giggles and doesn’t fight you on it, sitting back on his knees to look at you. His t-shirt has rucked up a little, exposing a slither of his stomach and side and one of his scars.

He sees you looking and swallows, pulling the edge of his top down to cover his skin. 

“Blue?” 

“Hmm?” He smiles again, trying to cover up his previous expression. 

You lean towards him slowly and reach out your hand, giving him plenty of time to move away if he wants or needs to. 

You lightly touch his hand, just ghosting over his knuckles, before you slip to the helm of the t-shirt, watching him carefully. 

He stiffens slightly. The smallest action that you would have missed if you hadn’t been looking at him so intently. 

“Can I take this off?” You whisper, scared to spook him.

He swallows again, his fingers twitching. “I…” 

You’ve seen him completely naked only once before, the first night you stayed in his rooms when you showered together, seen the scars that littered his skin, covering his chest and back. He’d tried to hide them even then, and you had the feeling that the only reason he had let you see him was because he had been so caught up and high off of his orgasm. 

You give him some space to think for a moment, until it seems that the weight of the question is too much.

“Here,” you keep your voice soft and gentle as you rise to your knees and place both of your hands on the edge of his top. Slowly you start to ease it up, still carefully checking his face and expressions. 

“I…” he repeats, letting his hands fall to his sides as you ease the material higher, exposing more and more of his skin. A faint blush dusts his skin, runs down his neck. 

You don’t need to ask him to raise his arms to help you pull it off completely; he moves instinctively, letting you put the shirt on the side. But he looks down, his chest rising and falling. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You whisper and his breathing hitches, surprising colouring his face as his attention snaps back to you. 

Slowly, you lean down and press your lips to the mess of scarring under his collarbone, before travelling across and running down. Kissing every slice and burn that’s embedded into his skin. 

His heartbeat flutters and he shifts, moving a little closer but still bunching up his hands at his sides. 

He lets you guide him back onto the mattress, lets you straddle his hips and keep kissing him. You lightly drag your fingers over the scars, mapping them out and following their patterns. At this point, you’re sure his torso is more scar tissue than not. 

Blue lets out a little desperate whine when your tongue touches the hollow just next to his hip, close to his tenting erection, and one of his worst scars. It’s a crisscross that runs down and curves around to the top of his inner left thigh, and old. 

“Who did this to you?” You ask before you even realise what you’re saying. There are some scars that are obviously from a fight, or skirmish in more recent times, like the bullet wound on his right side just above his hip - that one happened in the club before your time. The others however… they feel different. Purposeful. Torture.

He shakes his head slightly, his gaze far off as if he’s seeing ghosts from long ago. “They’re dead.” 

You’re not sure if his words are in relief, or mourning. 

“Good.” This word falls out of your mouth too, the venom in it surprising you. 

He looks back at you, a twitch of a sombre smile on his lips. “Good?” He says quietly, hopeful even. 

You nod. “Or I would have killed them myself.” 

The most heartbreaking love sick expression paints his face, softening his usual sharp features. He paws at you desperately, pulling you flush against him so that he can lick into your mouth and moan. His hands are everywhere, squeezing and slipping under your clothes before he hastily pulls them from your body. 

He kisses your jaw, biting your neck before he urges you higher so he can suck on your chest. You moan softly as he kisses your breast before he licks with the flat of his tongue, rolling repeatedly until the nipple pebbles and only then does he take them into his mouth. 

At the same moment he snakes his right hand down and rubs your clit softly with his fore and middle finger, lightly circling it before giving it a second of harder pressure. Then backing off and repeating the action. 

“Blue,” you squirm, your legs spreading as you rock against his touch, pushing your core and his hand against his own clothed erection. You groan as you grind desperately, pressing your chest closer to him. 

He moans approving, sucking harder as he alternates from one breast to the other as you cling onto him.

Pleasure twists deliciously in your core, wetness seeping out and soaking his boxers. He whimpers as you move, rocking up against you eagerly and matching your rhythm as he chases his orgasm. 

He lets out a sweet cry as he pulls his mouth from your skin, “Lion,” he whines, “uh, fuck.” He grabs your hand, pulling it to his neck wantonly, his eyes glazed and lust blown. 

You swear under your breath, your heart racing behind your ribcage. You pull back just enough to pull his boxers down to his knees and climb back on top of him, pressing your wet folds and throbbing clit up against the warm, hard length of his cock and then putting your hand back on his throat. 

He lets out a deep moan, his eyes rolling back as you start to grind against him and squeeze. He grabs hold of your hips, squeezing and kneading your flesh as you rut. 

“Lion, Lion,” he practically purrs with every gasp, his voice hoarse and desperate as you grip his throat a fraction tighter, but never hard enough to actually cut off his oxygen. Just enough for him to abandon any need for control, to let him float in that delicious safety. 

You slick seeps out, coating his cock and starting to seep down his balls. His eyes roll back, his hips stuttering and becoming uneven.

“Lion, please, I’m gonna come, please, keep, keep going, keep using me!” His voice rises, his thighs shaking as his fingers sink into your hips. His orgasm overtakes him completely, pleasure running along his nerves and paralysing him as he spurts all over both of your stomachs. He keeps coming, gasping for air as the pressure of your hand on his throat pushes him higher and higher and impossibly higher. 

You bite your lip, quieting your own moans so you can hear his better as you watch him fall apart and writhe under you. His face pinched in pleasure like it was carved by gods. 

He breathes deeply as he starts to recover, blinking up at you with large eyes. You start to slow your hips instinctively, not wanting to overstimulate him, but Blue squeezes your hips again and rocks you harder against him. 

He shakes his head, “Keep going, want you to come, keep using me.” He gasps, “Keep squeezing my neck.” He groans as your fingers flex and tighten. “That’s it, Lion, that’s it.” His cock twitches, overstimulation burning lightly and sparking arousal. 

Your thighs burn from the repetitive movement, your body too high to care as you roll and rock, rubbing your clit up and down his cock, his spend lubricating the action even more. 

Your breathing hitches, pleasure clawing into your thighs as your muscles tense. 

“Oh god, Lion, yes, please, please!” Blue gasps, watching you greedily as you fall into pleasure. 

You come hard against him, your body buzzing with bliss as you squirm and moan. The sensation flowing through you like a river you just can’t fight against. 

Blue inhales in surprise, panting as his body pulses, another wave of pleasure paralysing him as he feels your folds flutter and come hit his cock. He groans loudly, convulsing as he comes again, the smallest amount of come leaking out of his dick. 

You breathe hard as you come back to yourself, rolling off of Blue to lay next to him as your skin cools. You take his hand, link your fingers and press his knuckles to your lips. 

“Did you come again?” You ask, an undeniable hint of amusement in your voice.

He nods, exhausted. “I did.” 

You grin wildly.        

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

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[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒔

・This feeling, this love. It overwhelms him.

・And yet, he doesn't realise it's love until you call him out. For bottling things up, carrying all this responsibility by himself.

・For always putting himself at risk

・And instead for saying anything back, he just looks at you. Truly looks at you.

・At your red eyes, swollen lips, tear tracks down your cheek. And that's when he fully understands just how much you care for him.

・You see him; more than anyone. Underneath all the layers, the darkness and still, you care about him.

・The love feels overwhelming, and then he feels guilt. For so much. For his past. For his wife and how such a kind person like you, has been put into a situation like this.

・God, it hurts him.

・So he doesn't say it. It actually takes a while for him to say the words.

・Instead, he holds your face in his hands and says:

“This place don’t give much… but it gave me you. And I don’t want to lose that too.”

𝑱𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂

・It hits him in the middle of a rant.

・And feels like a light switching on. 'Oh.' He thinks, his heart beating too fast, swallowing, throat dry. 'Shit.'

・His face goes blank. He becomes too still. Kinda freaks you out a little.

・Since being here, he's told himself he was better alone. That people only slow him down. That attachments in this town are a liability.

・That he was THE Jade Herrera and he was going to find a way out of this town.

・But he met you.

・He makes a noise in his throat. Then looks away. Because he realises that he'd completely lose it if something happened to you.

・Gets more defensive when he loves you.

・Jade comes to a conclusion that he blurts out.

・And it scares the hell out of him.

“Fuck. I love you.”

𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒖

・He feels giddy with it.

・Overwhelmed in the best way possible.

・Being with you, even around you, makes everything lighter. Especially because of what this town, these monsters, have taken from him.

・And falling in love with Kristi, then seeing her with Mari...he thought it was all over for him.

・Until he met you. From a friend, to a best friend and then a lover.

・And so, he realises he loves you when he sees you comforting someone else.

・Your voice so steady. He watches you like you’re sunlight he forgot existed.

・Once he realises it, he can’t not say something.

・It spills out during the quietest moment, hands clasped under the table:

“I… I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I just didn’t know that’s what it was.”

𝑫𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

・She realises she loves you when you don’t flinch during an argument.

・It's the moment when you match her fire with calm certainty. When you stand your ground without disrespecting hers.

・From then on she starts treating you like a second-in-command even if you’re not.

・Brings you into her plans. Looks for your opinion. Trusts your gut. That’s love, to her.

・Donna isn't a soppy, fluffy person who wants romance. She wants a love that ... survives.

・She loves you like a wild-fire, she is consumed by her love for you. So much so that she may put you above the rest at times.

“You’re my person. And I don’t give a shit what this town takes from me, it’s not taking you. Not while I’m breathing.”

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑲𝒊𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅

・He realises he loves you when he sees someone else touch you.

・Not in a particular way. The other person was being friendly; polite.

・But hell, the jealousy that rises in Randall isn’t just possessive. It’s panicked.

・He doesn’t want to share you, doesn’t want anyone to see you the way he does.

・There's been no one else in this town that gets him like you do.

・And seeing you able to have a life without him, makes his stomach turn.

・There's no one else he wants to spend his time with. His ... god, his life with.

・And that realisation hit him so hard that he nearly backed away from you.

・But of course you weren't about to let that happen. You always had a way of making him open up. Of sharing his hurts and trauma.

“Look, I don’t do this. I don’t say this. But I’m pretty sure I’d tear this whole place apart if anything ever happened to you. So yeah—I love you. Do what you want with that.”

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 12.1 - Brain Drain

Akira and Cora hadn’t talked since he left her apartment. “You dyed your hair,” he grunts.

“Uh, yeah…I thought I should blend in, in case we have trouble with security. You like it?” she pats the bun and smooths her pants.

“I think it feels like overkill for one job, but whatever.” He glances back at the building. “Let’s plan in the cafeteria and if we need anymore 'cover,' I’ll use glamour.” 

Inside, Akira looks at the piece of paper with Jacques’s list of items again. It includes a few magical bits, bobs, and weapons—nothing that requires his level of talent. And the fact that he was being sent to retrieve everything with Cora?

“This is bullshit,” he says, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. “I can get weapons.” 

He doesn’t share his suspicions about what the supplies include: machetes, axes, pikes, potions and medicines to ward off spider bites. Jacques was planning some bullshit; Akira knew it in his bones, and it pissed him off. 

“The weapons cache requires a digital safe crack. That’s literally my exact skill set, and it's what Jacques asked for.”

That was true. Jacques had been very specific, too specific for Akira’s taste. Usually, the Devil gave him plenty of leeway. “What does he want this shit for anyway?” he asks. 

“Dunno,” Cora replies, but it’s a lie. “You wanna wait until they close? Do it the hard way for fun?”

Akira hides his annoyance. Fae despise being lied to, especially when someone is trying to get something from them. 

And more than that, stealing after hours was a hassle. Everyone was on high alert, and you had to worry about security footage and guards. He stands and heads for the stairs. “I got shit to do later. Let’s just cross it off the list so Jacques can get his supplies that you don’t know anything about.”

It’s light work to glamour the front desk and a few employees as Akira and Cora make their way down the hall. He keeps it surface-level, something that will fade on its own. Anything more substantial, and the sims would lose all track of themselves.

They slip into one of the computer stations so Cora can hack the system and get them into the server room. While she works, Akira takes in their surroundings. “How long is this gonna take?”

Her shoulders tighten. “As long as it needs to. Just have patience. It’s not like we’re in danger.”

Patience was not something Akira had a lot of right now. Vlad chased him with sharp weapons so often he was practically becoming a pincushion, and he'd started watching some zombie TV show with Alice over the phone.

To put it simply, his bloodlust was at an all time high.

If he wasn't thinking about pulling Vlad down for a kiss when he got tackled to the ground, he was fantasizing about scraping the sharp of his teeth against Alice's neck while they cuddled on the couch.

After what feels like ten thousand years, Cora gives him the signal and he follows her to the elevators.

“I shouldn’t have lied,” she says when they reach the safe. She sets her laptop down on a side table. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t,” Akira warns. “Don’t apologize to me. Don’t give me anything that lets me bind you.”

She halts. “But why? We’re friends, and I owe you, right? That’s how it works. You’ve been telling me forever that things have to be a transaction. It has to be a trade, but I didn’t get it. I never gave you something of myself, so how could you trust me?”

The answer was that he never would. “I said no,” he bites out. 

“I’m sorry,” Cora’s expression is hopeful, “Seriously, I am so, so sorry I lied to you.”

When she reaches for him, he grabs her chin. The power floods him, and he can taste everything: her fear, her desire, and her utter lack of understanding. “Stupid,” he hisses. 

“Akira, I—”

"Shut up."

Her mouth clamps shut. 

PREV | NEXT

(Part 2 of 4)

[yuriosakawa]

The air in Casper High thickened in that way only Omegas could feel, the tell-tale shift when another Alpha walked too close, spoke too loud, or stared a little too long. 

Danny had gotten good at ignoring it—years of being half-ghost, half-human, and whole awkward had taught him to shove down discomfort and keep moving.

But today, Dash had that look. The one that made Danny's skin crawl and his scent spike just slightly, the one that made Sam slam her locker with a little too much force.

“Back off, Dash,” Sam growled, not loud enough for a teacher to notice, but low enough for every Omega in the hall to perk their ears. “Guardian rights. You know the rules.”

Dash gave her a lazy smirk, not even looking at her. “Doesn’t look like he’s claimed,” he muttered. “That means fair game.”

Danny shrank under the weight of those words. His neck was bare, scent unclaimed, and that was by choice. He didn’t want to be marked. Didn’t want to rush into some bond that made his life more complicated than it already was—ghosts, parents, hormones—he had enough on his plate. He didn’t need the pressure of an Alpha’s bite added to the mix.

But that didn’t stop others from circling.

“Sam,” Danny murmured, touching her wrist. “It’s fine. Let it go.”

Sam didn’t budge. Her purple eyes stayed locked on Dash’s smug profile. “No. You’re mine to protect. Whether you’ve got a mark or not.”

The title wasn’t official—Guardian Alpha wasn’t some legal designation. But it was a recognized thing, especially in small, close-knit towns like Amity Park. An Omega could choose an Alpha to act as their deterrent, their voice when things got too overwhelming. It was about trust. It was about care. It was about knowing someone would be there when everything else got too loud.

Danny had asked Sam when he was fifteen, during a particularly rough rut when Paulina had tried to "comfort" him with sweet words and wandering hands.

She hadn’t hesitated. Not even for a second.

Now, two years later, Sam still stood like a wall between him and the world when it got too sharp. Not possessive. Not overbearing. Just steady. Like gravity.

“Danny,” Sam said gently, turning to him after Dash disappeared down the hall. “Did you want me to walk you to trig?”

He looked up at her. Taller now. Broader. A little more Alpha every day. But still Sam. His Sam.

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “Please.”

[shimmerandink]

hii I littreally LOVE your work omg!! Would it be possible for you to write headcanons or a one shot about ballerina reader x silco? 💗💗

Thank you for your request and your support! I love this idea, I hope you will enjoy it!!!

My ballerina

Silco x Ballerina! Reader Headcanons

Feat Jinx

Fluff

Tags: Silco x reader, ballerina reader, sfw, softness

~Silco first sees you while attending a meeting with your boss, someone who owns or funds the performance venue as a front for shady deals. It’s just business for him… until he hears music echoing from the rehearsal hall.

~At first, he doesn’t care. But when he catches a glimpse of you mid-practice, your body moving like liquid light, the way your focus doesn’t break even when you know you’re being watched, something shifts. You’re unlike anything he’s used to in the undercity. So precise. So untouchable.

~He doesn’t say a word. Just watches silently, the glint in his visible eye unreadable, then leaves without making his presence known.

~Silco makes an excuse to return under the pretense of more business with your boss, but really, it’s to see if you’re there again. This time he makes himself known.

~“You’re disciplined,” he says after watching you finish a routine. “Almost militant.”

~It’s not quite a compliment, but not criticism either. It’s fascination, disguised in his typical cool tone.

~You raise an eyebrow, not intimidated, which intrigues him more. “It’s an art, not a war.”

~“Only difference,” he replies, “is who bleeds.”

~From that moment on, he keeps coming back. At first he tells himself it’s about curiosity. But it’s more than that. You’re soft where he’s sharp. Elegant where he’s jagged. He doesn’t belong in your world, but he can’t stay out of it either.

~He listens more than he talks at first. Watches the way you stretch your legs before a performance, the way your hands tremble when you’re nervous. He learns the shape of your silence.

~You ask questions that catch him off guard, “What was your favorite song as a child?” or “Do you ever wish you’d done something… gentler?”

~He doesn’t lie, but he doesn’t tell the full truth either. Not until he trusts you.

~ The first time he sees you perform on stage, something clenches deep in his chest. You’re so radiant, so free. It almost hurts. Because he’s never known freedom that didn’t cost something.

~Silco isn’t used to softness. Not in himself. But with you, he starts to crave it.

~He never tells you to stop dancing, not even when it’s dangerous to be associated with him. In fact, he protects your space like it’s sacred. Anyone who even thinks about dragging you into his world without permission… doesn’t get to think again.

~When you’re hurt, even slightly, his rage is cold, deadly, and quiet. But when you cry out of frustration because your foot won’t cooperate or your balance is off, he’s gentle. “You’re allowed to fall,” he murmurs. “Even perfection stumbles.”

~He won’t say “I love you” often, but he’ll sit through an entire performance in the shadows, arms crossed, eyes never leaving you. He’ll bring you water, fix your ribbons when they fray, and touch your back like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

~You make him feel human. Not in a way that weakens him, but in a way that reminds him he’s still capable of beauty, and of being loved without fear.

~Jinx thinks you’re too “perfect,” too clean, too graceful to really get Silco or the world he’s in.

~She might test you with weird questions or throw chaotic comments just to see how you react.

~“So… how many pirouettes before you snap someone’s neck?”

~If you laugh or answer with something clever, she’ll smirk and say, “Okay, you’re fun.”

~Over time, she warms up, especially when she realizes that you don’t treat her like she’s “crazy” or a burden. You’re calm around her, and that earns deep respect from Jinx.

~ She once asked if you could show her some dance moves. She tried to do a spin and almost knocked over a lamp. You both laughed hysterically. Now she brings you broken music boxes to fix “for inspiration.”

~He doesn’t ask for private performances, but the first time you do it on your own, he’s visibly shaken. Silco doesn’t show softness easily, but in that moment, he forgets how to breathe.

~ The way your body moves, controlled, delicate, defiant, it reminds him of what discipline looks like when it’s born from passion, not war.

~ Afterward, he always sits in silence for a few moments, as if absorbing you. Like beauty is something he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

~ He starts making excuses to visit your rehearsal space after hours, pretending to check in on “business.” But you catch the slight curl of his lips every time you spin just for him.

~Sometimes, you dance while he’s working, and he won’t even look up from his papers, but his hand still moves in time with the music, fingers tapping your rhythm.

[rangersoup]

No, but Iris Blake is the only one who would call Campbell Soup to his face. TK will call him that, but never to his face. But Iris… oh Iris. Carlos introduces them while on a case that somehow relates to her. And she just goes “Lmaooooo. Like the soup?!” And from that moment on, she calls him Soup. He fights it for the longest time before finally giving in and being like “I guess I am Soup 😞”

[appropriatelystupid]

this might be an unpopular opinion but i’d rather have a full agnes of westview spinoff than only get more future agatha as a mentor/sidekick to billy and tommy