#but it is a small and faltering hope at this point

[okasuka]

The sketches between us - Damian wayne x reader.

Part 1: The Classroom Encounter

The classroom buzzed with quiet energy as students worked on their art projects. The assignment was simple: depict your relationship with Gotham. Most kids were drawing familiar landmarks or simple cityscapes, but Damian Wayne was lost in his own world, completely immersed in his sketch.

You sat a few desks away, idly blending charcoal on your paper, when you noticed Damian’s intensity. Unlike the other students, who traded jokes and compared sketches, he worked silently, his pencil moving with laser focus. It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed Damian’s talent, but something about his quiet dedication today drew you in.

Curiosity got the better of you. Setting your project aside, you slid into the empty seat next to him. “Mind if I see what you’re working on?” you asked, your voice soft enough not to startle him.

Damian stiffened, his hand pausing mid-stroke. He turned his head slightly, his sharp green eyes narrowing. “I do mind,” he replied curtly.

You grinned, unfazed by his bluntness. “Too bad,” you said, leaning over just enough to catch a glimpse of his sketch. “Wow. That’s incredible.”

He sighed, clearly annoyed but too prideful to stop you from looking. “If you’re going to hover, at least don’t smudge anything,” he muttered, pulling the sketchpad closer to himself.

You ignored his irritation, your gaze fixed on the drawing. It was Gotham—but not the Gotham you were used to seeing. Damian had captured the city’s skyline in intricate detail, but there was an unexpected warmth to it. Light spilled through windows, and the streets seemed alive, almost hopeful.

“It’s not what I expected,” you said after a moment.

Damian frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s… different. Gotham always feels so harsh, but this feels—” you paused, searching for the right word, “—gentler. Like you’re showing the city how you see it, not how it actually is.”

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he said, “That’s the point. Gotham is more than what people assume.”

“Fair enough,” you said, sitting back a little but not moving away. “You’re really good, you know.”

“Obviously,” Damian replied, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Part 2: Small Talk and Sketches

For the next few minutes, you watched in silence as Damian continued to draw. His pencil strokes were precise, deliberate, as if every line held meaning. The classroom noise faded into the background, replaced by the soft scratch of graphite on paper.

“You always draw this kind of stuff?” you asked eventually.

“Not always,” he replied without looking up. “Sometimes I draw people.”

“Like portraits?”

“Sometimes.” He hesitated before adding, “Animals, too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Titus?”

He glanced at you, clearly surprised. “How do you know about Titus?”

“Everyone knows about Titus,” you said with a shrug. “You bring him to school sometimes, don’t you?”

“Rarely,” Damian admitted, turning back to his sketch. “But he’s better company than most people.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you said with a grin. “So, do you ever draw classmates? Teachers? Random strangers on the street?”

Damian snorted. “Why would I waste my time on people like that?”

“Not even Bruce?” you teased.

His hand faltered slightly, and he shot you a sharp look. “Father has better things to do than pose for portraits.”

“Fair enough,” you said, though you couldn’t resist adding, “I think he’d like it, though. You’re good at capturing the parts of people most people miss.”

Damian didn’t reply, but you noticed the faintest flush of color on his cheeks.

Part 3: Bruce Notices

Unbeknownst to either of you, Bruce Wayne stood at the back of the classroom, arms crossed as he observed the scene. He had volunteered to assist with the art class as part of his ongoing efforts to support Damian’s school, though he had mostly stayed in the background. Seeing Damian interact with someone—genuinely, without his usual wall of sarcasm or indifference—was a rare sight.

Bruce approached slowly, making just enough noise to avoid startling either of you. “That’s an impressive sketch,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

You both turned to look at him. Damian scowled immediately. “Father, don’t you have something else to do?”

Bruce ignored the question and nodded toward the sketchpad. “I didn’t know you were working on Gotham.”

“It’s for the assignment,” Damian said tersely.

“And you’ve clearly exceeded expectations,” Bruce said, his tone almost proud. Then he looked at you. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Bruce Wayne.”

“Y/N,” you said, standing to shake his hand. “I’m in Damian’s class. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bruce smiled faintly, his handshake firm but polite. “Likewise. I can see you and Damian have been working well together.”

Damian huffed. “We’re not working together. Y/N is just nosy.”

You grinned at that. “Guilty as charged.”

Bruce’s gaze lingered on the two of you for a moment before he said, “You should join us for dinner tonight, Y/N.”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly. “What? Why?”

“Because I’d like to get to know your friend,” Bruce said simply. “And it’s not every day you let someone sit this close to you while you’re drawing.”

You looked at Damian, whose expression was a mix of irritation and embarrassment, and then back at Bruce. “I’d love to.”

Part 4: Conversations on the Ride Home

The school day ended not long after the art class, and Damian found himself walking alongside you as Bruce led the way to his sleek black car parked out front. The moment felt strange to him. Normally, he preferred his solitude, but something about your energy made the silence less stifling.

You matched his pace easily, your bag slung casually over your shoulder. “So, does your dad always just invite random classmates over for dinner, or am I special?” you teased.

Damian shot you a sidelong glance. “You’re not special,” he said, but there was no venom in his tone. “He’s always trying to… ‘socialize’ me.” He rolled his eyes at the word.

You grinned. “Well, you could use the practice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need practice. I know how to talk to people. I just choose not to.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you said, your grin widening. “So, do you have anything else you’re good at besides being mysteriously antisocial and really good at art?”

Damian bristled slightly at the comment, but your tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, you sounded genuinely curious. “I’m skilled at… a lot of things,” he said vaguely.

“Cryptic,” you replied. “Let me guess—archery? Chess? Fencing?”

His expression remained neutral. “Something like that.”

You smirked. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop prying. I’ll tell you something about me instead.”

Damian didn’t respond, but his curious glance was enough encouragement for you to continue. “I box,” you said, almost casually. “And I play football—soccer, if you prefer. What about you? Any sports?”

Damian’s brow furrowed. “You box?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Yeah,” you said, raising your chin slightly. “What, I don’t look like I can throw a punch?”

“It’s not that,” Damian said quickly, though his expression remained critical. “It’s just… most people your age don’t.”

“Maybe not,” you said with a shrug. “But I like it. It’s good for focus and discipline, and it helps me stay in shape for football.”

Damian’s interest piqued despite himself. “And football? What position do you play?”

“Midfielder,” you said, your voice tinged with pride. “I like being in the center of the action. What about you? Do you play anything?”

Damian hesitated. It wasn’t as though he could tell you about the hours he spent sparring in the Batcave or his experience in martial arts tournaments across the globe. “I don’t play team sports,” he said finally. “But I do train.”

“Train for what?” you asked, intrigued.

“Self-defense,” he replied, keeping his answer deliberately vague.

“Ah,” you said, nodding. “That makes sense. You strike me as someone who likes to be prepared.”

Damian glanced at you again, surprised by your observation. “And you strike me as someone who asks a lot of questions.”

“I ask because I’m curious,” you said with a shrug. “But I’ll stop if I’m annoying you.”

“You’re not,” Damian admitted, almost grudgingly.

Part 5: Arrival at the Manor

The car ride to Wayne Manor was surprisingly comfortable. You and Damian continued to talk, the conversation flowing easily despite his usual reluctance to engage. By the time the car pulled up to the grand gates of the Wayne estate, you found yourself marveling at how much you’d learned about him—and how much you’d enjoyed his company.

Bruce glanced at the two of you through the rearview mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips as he noted the unusual ease in Damian’s demeanor. “Welcome to Wayne Manor,” he said as the gates opened and the car rolled up the long driveway.

Your eyes widened as the sprawling estate came into view. “Wow,” you said softly. “This is… insane.”

Damian smirked, crossing his arms. “It’s just a house.”

You shot him a look. “Just a house? Are you kidding? It’s practically a castle!”

Bruce chuckled as he parked the car. “It’s been in the family for generations,” he said. “But I admit, it can be a bit overwhelming at first.”

The three of you stepped out of the car, and Alfred appeared at the front door to greet you. “Master Bruce, Master Damian,” he said with his usual impeccable poise before turning to you. “And you must be Miss Y/N. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” you said, still taking in your surroundings.

As you walked inside, Damian gestured toward the staircase. “The dining room is this way. Try not to get lost.”

You laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

Damian glanced at you again, his expression softer than usual. He wouldn’t admit it—not yet, anyway—but he found himself genuinely enjoying your company. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind someone being in his space.

Part 6: Quiet Moments in Damian’s Room

Damian’s room was as meticulously organized as you would have expected. Everything had its place—shelves lined with books, a desk free of clutter except for a stack of sketchpads, and a neatly made bed. The only thing that seemed slightly out of place was Titus, his giant black Great Dane, who lay sprawled comfortably on the floor near Damian’s desk.

You sat cross-legged on the floor beside Damian’s chair, leaning slightly forward to peer over his shoulder as he sketched. Once again, Gotham’s skyline took shape under his steady hand, but this time there was a new element—tiny figures in the foreground, a vague suggestion of life amid the towering buildings.

“You’re adding people this time,” you observed.

Damian didn’t pause. “Gotham isn’t just buildings. It’s the people who live there, too.”

You smiled at his response. “True. But I didn’t think you’d care enough to include them.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. “Don’t overanalyze it. It’s just a drawing.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, grinning. “Sure it is.”

Before Damian could retort, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside his room. A moment later, the door swung open, and Dick Grayson’s head poked inside.

“Hey, little D,” Dick began, his cheerful tone carrying into the room. “Bruce sent me up to—oh.” He froze mid-sentence, his gaze shifting to you and then to Damian. A slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “What’s this?”

Damian groaned audibly, his pencil freezing on the page. “What do you want, Grayson?”

Dick ignored the question and stepped fully into the room, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Am I interrupting something? You’ve got company, and she’s… what? Watching you draw? That’s new.”

You smirked, sitting back slightly but not moving from your spot. “Hi, you must be Dick. I’m Y/N.”

Dick’s grin widened. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve gotta say, this is the first time I’ve seen Damian let someone into his sacred art space.”

“She invited herself,” Damian muttered, resuming his sketch with an exaggerated sigh.

“And you didn’t kick her out?” Dick teased, feigning shock. “Wow. You must really like her.”

Damian’s pencil stilled again, and he glared at his brother. “I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

“Sure you don’t,” Dick said, winking at you. “Anyway, I came up here to tell you dinner’s ready. Bruce is waiting, and you know how he gets if people are late.”

“Fine,” Damian said tersely, closing his sketchpad with deliberate care. “We’re coming.”

Dick stepped aside, gesturing grandly for the two of you to follow him. “After you, lovebirds.”

Damian shot him another glare as he got up, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I like him,” you said to Damian as you walked past Dick. “He’s fun.”

“You won’t think that for long,” Damian muttered darkly, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

Part 7: Dinner with the Waynes

The dining room at Wayne Manor was as grand as everything else in the house, with a long table stretching nearly the length of the room. Bruce sat at the head, Alfred hovering nearby to serve, and a plate was already set for you beside Damian’s usual seat.

As you all settled in, the conversation was lively, thanks to Dick’s relentless teasing and the occasional sharp remark from Damian. Tim Drake had joined as well, making the room feel even more animated. You couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed, but Damian’s presence beside you was oddly grounding.

“So, Y/N,” Dick said halfway through the meal, “how did you end up spending the afternoon with Damian? Did he actually invite you, or did you have to bribe him?”

“I didn’t have to do anything,” you said with a laugh. “I just sat next to him in art class and wouldn’t go away.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that. “And he let you?”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing at Damian. “I think he secretly enjoys the company.”

Damian’s fork clattered against his plate. “I do not.”

Dick snorted. “Sure you don’t, little bro.”

“Leave him alone, Dick,” Tim chimed in with a smirk. “He’s probably just glad someone’s finally willing to put up with him.”

Damian shot Tim a glare but didn’t rise to the bait, instead turning to you. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m having fun,” you said brightly.

For a moment, Damian looked as though he wasn’t sure how to respond. But then, to your surprise, he smirked faintly and said, “That’s a first.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of banter and laughter, and by the time it was over, you felt surprisingly at ease. It was clear that Damian’s family cared deeply for him, even if they showed it in unconventional ways.

Part 8: Dinner and Teasing

Dinner at Wayne Manor was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The food was incredible, Alfred’s presence was impeccably calm, and the dining room itself felt like something out of a movie. But it wasn’t the grandeur of the setting that stood out the most—it was the energy at the table.

Dick couldn’t seem to stop teasing Damian, much to your amusement.

“So, Y/N,” Dick said with a sly grin as he twirled his fork, “what exactly is it that you find so interesting about my little brother? His sparkling personality? His incredible sense of humor?”

Damian stiffened in his seat, his knife scraping a little too hard against his plate. “Grayson,” he growled, “if you keep this up, I’ll make sure Titus chews on your boots again.”

“You already tried that,” Dick shot back, unfazed. “You forget I’m faster than Titus.”

You chuckled, but before you could respond, Dick leaned in conspiratorially. “Seriously though, you’ve got to tell me—what’s the appeal? I mean, I know he’s secretly a softie, but it must take some serious effort to get past that shell of his.”

Damian’s ears turned a faint shade of red, and he glared at Dick. “Stop talking.”

“See?” Dick said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “So charming.”

“I’m just persistent,” you said with a grin. “And honestly, I think he secretly likes having someone around who doesn’t take him too seriously.”

Damian’s glare shifted to you, but his expression softened ever so slightly. “You’re both insufferable.”

“Aw, he thinks we’re alike,” Dick said, nudging you playfully. “That’s high praise coming from him.”

The teasing continued throughout the meal, with Tim occasionally chiming in, much to Damian’s annoyance. But despite his grumbles and glares, you could tell he wasn’t truly upset. If anything, he seemed almost—dare you think it—comfortable.

When the plates were cleared, Bruce stood, thanking Alfred for the meal. “Damian, Y/N, feel free to use the library if you’d like,” he said before heading toward his study.

“You mean my library,” Damian corrected under his breath, rising from his seat. “Come on,” he said to you, his tone slightly begrudging but not unfriendly.

Part 9: The Wayne Library

The Wayne Manor library was massive, with towering shelves filled with books of every kind. The warm lighting and the faint smell of aged paper gave it a cozy, almost magical atmosphere.

“Wow,” you said, spinning slowly as you took it all in. “This is… incredible.”

“It’s just a library,” Damian said, echoing his earlier dismissal of the manor itself. But there was a faint note of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, but it’s your library,” you said, grinning as you wandered over to one of the shelves. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Damian sat down on one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, pulling a book from the nearby table. “That depends on what you’re interested in.”

You scanned the shelves for a moment before picking out a random book and flopping into the chair across from him. “I think I’ll just see where this takes me.”

For a while, the two of you read in companionable silence. The crackling of the fireplace and the sheer comfort of the room made the moment feel peaceful, almost intimate.

After a while, you looked up from your book, breaking the quiet. “Hey, Damian,” you said, trying to keep a straight face, “what do you call a book club full of superheroes?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What?”

“A Justice Reads League.”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, Damian just stared at you, his face blank. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a short laugh—sharp and quick, but genuine.

“That was terrible,” he said, shaking his head, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“I know,” you said, laughing as well. “That’s what makes it great.”

The laughter lingered between the two of you, a warm, light feeling that seemed to fill the space. Damian closed his book, leaning back in his chair as he looked at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

“And yet, here we are,” you replied, grinning.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The warmth of the room and the shared laughter seemed to settle into something deeper, something unspoken. You didn’t have to say it aloud to know that, somehow, this quiet evening in the library had brought you closer.

Part 10: Shared Moments in the Library

As the evening stretched on, the two of you remained in the library, the warmth of the fireplace making the vast room feel cozy and intimate. Damian had closed his book entirely by now, his attention subtly shifting toward you. There was something different about the way he looked at you—not with his usual guarded expression, but with a quiet curiosity.

“You spend a lot of time laughing,” Damian said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“No,” he said after a pause. “I just don’t get it. How can you find so much… joy in things?”

His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that caught you off guard.

You leaned back in your chair, considering your answer. “I guess… I just think life’s better when you don’t take it too seriously. There’s so much we can’t control, but if you can find little things to enjoy, it makes the hard stuff easier to handle.”

Damian frowned slightly, as though turning your words over in his mind. “That’s… naive,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

“Maybe,” you replied with a shrug. “But I’d rather be naive and happy than miserable all the time.”

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile flickered across his lips.

Before either of you could say more, Bruce appeared in the doorway. “It’s getting late,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Y/N, I called your parents. They’re fine with you staying the night since it’s so late.”

“Oh,” you said, sitting up straight. “Thanks, Mr. Wayne. That’s really nice of you.”

Bruce gave a small nod. “Unfortunately, most of the guest rooms are under repair, so you’ll have to share Damian’s room tonight.”

Damian stiffened, his eyes widening slightly. “What?”

“Just for tonight,” Bruce said calmly, ignoring Damian’s reaction. “There’s plenty of space in your room. Make sure Y/N has everything she needs.”

Before Damian could argue, Bruce turned and left, leaving the two of you in stunned silence.

Part 11: Sharing a Space

Damian led you back to his room, his jaw tight as though he were holding back a thousand protests. You followed, unsure whether to feel amused or awkward.

When you stepped into his room again, the familiar tidy space felt different somehow. The knowledge that you’d be spending the night there made the air feel heavier.

“You can take the bed,” Damian said stiffly, gesturing toward it.

“And where are you going to sleep?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll take the floor,” he said firmly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, crossing your arms. “We can both fit on the bed. It’s huge.”

Damian hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. He looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find a logical reason to. “Fine,” he muttered.

“Great,” you said with a smile, trying to ease the tension.

As you set your bag down, you realized something. “Uh… I don’t have anything to sleep in.”

Damian blinked, then turned to his dresser. Without a word, he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt, handing them to you. “These should work,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the clothes.

You quickly changed in the adjoining bathroom, the oversized shirt and sweatpants feeling surprisingly comfortable. When you stepped back into the room, Damian was already on the bed, sitting stiffly against the headboard and looking anywhere but at you.

Part 12: Awkward Proximity

You climbed onto the bed and settled on the other side, making sure to leave a respectful amount of space between you. Damian turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the curtains.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching out like a fragile thread.

“Do you do this a lot?” Damian asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Do what?” you whispered back.

“Stay up late talking to people,” he said.

You smiled faintly. “Not really. Most people aren’t that interesting.”

“Interesting,” he repeated, the word laced with a hint of skepticism. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, you are,” you said honestly. “You just don’t let people see it.”

Damian didn’t respond, but the soft sound of his breath told you he was still awake. Slowly, the silence returned, and as the minutes passed, you both drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Part 13: Tangled in the Morning

When you woke the next morning, it took you a moment to realize where you were. The sunlight streaming through the windows painted the room in soft gold, and the faint sound of birds chirping outside added to the surreal feeling.

It wasn’t until you tried to move that you realized something was different.

Damian’s arm was draped across your waist, his face resting just inches from yours. Your legs were tangled together, and his warm breath brushed against your skin with every exhale.

Your heart skipped a beat, your body frozen in place. For all his sharp edges and stubborn pride, Damian looked impossibly peaceful in his sleep.

As if sensing your movement, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked once, then twice, before realizing the situation.

His face turned crimson, and he scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, sitting up and smoothing your hair. “It was just… I guess we moved around in our sleep.”

Damian avoided your gaze, his usual composure shattered. “It won’t happen again,” he said stiffly.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. “Relax, Damian. It’s not a big deal.”

He glanced at you then, his expression softening just a fraction. “You’re… weirdly calm about this.”

“That’s because I don’t take things too seriously, remember?” you said, echoing your words from the night before.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips. For a moment, the awkwardness melted away, leaving only the quiet understanding that something between the two of you had shifted.

And neither of you could deny that it felt… right.

Part 14: The Morning After

The silence in the room stretched on as Damian sat stiffly at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. You stayed where you were, unsure whether to laugh at his obvious discomfort or try to make things less awkward.

Titus, who had been curled up by the door all night, took the opportunity to lumber over and rest his giant head on the bed, wagging his tail. You reached out to scratch behind his ears, grateful for the distraction.

“So,” you said lightly, “do mornings here usually start with awkward near-panic, or is this a special occasion?”

Damian turned his head sharply to glare at you, but there was no real heat in his expression. “You think this is funny?”

“A little,” you admitted with a grin. “I mean, it’s not like anything happened. You don’t have to act like I’m going to tell the whole school or something.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Damian muttered, though the way he averted his gaze suggested otherwise.

“Good,” you said, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Because honestly, it’s kind of nice to see you not be perfect for once. Makes you a little more relatable.”

“Relatable,” Damian repeated flatly. “Because that’s what I strive for.”

You laughed, and for a moment, his lips quirked upward in a reluctant smile.

Before the moment could stretch too far, there was a knock at the door, and Dick’s voice called out from the hallway.

“Good morning, lovebirds! Breakfast is ready, if you’re done with your… slumber party.”

Damian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill him,” he muttered.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter this time, and you got up to head for the bathroom. “I’ll give you a head start. I just need to fix my hair first.”

Part 15: Breakfast Banter

When you and Damian finally made it downstairs, the rest of the Wayne family was already gathered around the breakfast table. Dick was, unsurprisingly, the first to notice your arrival.

“Well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest dynamic duo,” he said with a grin, gesturing to the empty seats.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Bruce said, giving you a polite nod as he sipped his coffee.

“Morning, Mr. Wayne,” you replied, feeling a little self-conscious under his calm gaze.

Tim raised an eyebrow as you sat down beside Damian. “So, how was sharing a room with the Demon Spawn?”

“Tim,” Bruce said sharply, though there was no real bite to his tone.

“It was fine,” you said, smiling innocently. “Though I don’t think Damian’s used to sharing his personal space.”

“I’m not,” Damian said curtly, grabbing a plate and loading it with food.

Dick smirked. “Aw, come on, little D. I bet you were a perfect gentleman.”

Damian shot him a glare. “Grayson, don’t you have anything better to do than stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“Nope,” Dick said cheerfully.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter, feeling surprisingly at ease despite the teasing. It was clear that, for all their quirks, the Waynes were a family in their own chaotic way.

Part 16: A Quiet Goodbye

After breakfast, Bruce offered to have Alfred drive you home, and while you agreed, a part of you felt reluctant to leave.

Damian walked you to the car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. Neither of you said much at first, the silence stretching between you like it had the night before—only this time, it wasn’t awkward. It was… comfortable.

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” you said as you reached the car.

Damian shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Still,” you said, leaning against the car door, “it was nice.”

He looked at you then, his green eyes unreadable. “You’re not… terrible company.”

“Wow,” you said, grinning. “High praise coming from you.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

As Alfred opened the car door, you hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer to Damian. “I meant what I said last night, you know. You’re more interesting than you give yourself credit for.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression carefully neutral. But as you climbed into the car and the door closed behind you, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a quiet acknowledgment that your words had meant something to him.

Part 17: Tangled Thoughts

As Alfred drove you home, you replayed the events of the night in your mind. The teasing at dinner, the quiet moments in the library, waking up tangled together in his bed—it all felt strangely significant, like the beginning of something you couldn’t quite define.

And as you glanced back at Wayne Manor disappearing in the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder if Damian was thinking the same thing.

Part 18: Cornered After Class

The next day at school had been uneventful—for the most part. Classes had gone by in the usual blur, but you couldn’t help but notice that Damian seemed quieter than usual. Sure, he was never the most talkative, but today, he seemed… distracted.

As the final bell rang and you packed up your things, you decided to head toward the school courtyard to meet Damian. You didn’t have to go far, though, because as you turned the corner, you saw him near the lockers.

And he wasn’t alone.

A group of older students had cornered him, their mocking laughter echoing through the hallway.

“Hey, Wayne,” one of them sneered, shoving Damian’s shoulder. “What’s it like being a rich kid who thinks he’s better than everyone else?”

Damian didn’t flinch or react. He just stood there, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed somewhere over the bully’s shoulder. His composure was absolute, but you could tell he was annoyed.

“What? Too good to talk to us?” another guy jeered, stepping closer.

“Maybe he’s just scared,” one of the others said, laughing.

You felt your blood boil. Damian wasn’t scared—he was deliberately ignoring them, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. But you weren’t about to let this slide.

Without thinking, you stormed forward, your voice cutting through the laughter.

“Hey! Leave him alone.”

The group turned to look at you, sizing you up with matching sneers.

“Oh, look, the little guy’s got backup,” one of them said mockingly. “What are you gonna do, princess?”

“I’m gonna give you a reason to leave,” you snapped, stepping closer.

“Y/N, don’t—” Damian started, his voice calm but warning.

But it was too late.

Part 19: A Lesson in Pain

The first punch landed square on the biggest guy’s jaw, the crack echoing in the hallway. He staggered back, clutching his face, while the others stared at you in shock.

“You just made a big mistake,” another one growled, lunging toward you.

But you were ready. You ducked his swing and delivered a sharp uppercut to his stomach, making him double over. Your foot shot out next, sweeping his legs out from under him.

“Y/N, stop,” Damian said again, stepping toward you, but his voice was still measured.

One of the other bullies tried to grab your arm, but you twisted free and delivered a hard elbow to his face. Blood spattered as he stumbled back, swearing under his breath.

“Enough!” one of them shouted, backing away. “You’re crazy!”

“You’re lucky I’m stopping now,” you snapped, glaring at them. “If I ever see you messing with Damian again, you’ll get worse. Got it?”

The group exchanged panicked glances before turning and running, their shouts of anger fading as they disappeared down the hallway.

Part 20: Aftermath

You turned to Damian, breathing hard, your knuckles aching from the impact. He stood there, his expression unreadable, but there was a strange glint in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally, his tone calm.

“Yeah, well, someone had to,” you shot back, flexing your sore fingers. “They were jerks, Damian. You shouldn’t just let them treat you like that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I had it under control.”

“By standing there and doing nothing?” you asked incredulously.

“I was assessing the situation,” he replied, his voice as level as ever. “Reacting emotionally isn’t always the best approach.”

“Well, maybe not, but it worked, didn’t it?” you countered. “They’re gone, and they’re not coming back anytime soon.”

Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

“Of course I did,” you said firmly. “That’s what friends do.”

At the word “friends,” Damian hesitated. His gaze softened slightly, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.

Finally, he said, “You’re… different.”

“Thanks?” you said, unsure whether that was a compliment.

“I mean it,” he continued. “Most people either avoid me or try too hard to impress me. You just… do what you want.”

“Well, someone has to keep you on your toes,” you said with a small smile.

Damian allowed a faint smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re welcome,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly as you started walking toward the exit.

Part 21: A Quiet Moment

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension from the fight slowly ebbing away. As you reached the gates of the school, Damian finally spoke again.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “not many people would have done what you did.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, shrugging, “you’re not exactly like most people, either.”

He looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for something you couldn’t quite name. Then, after a moment, he said, “Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. “Anytime,” you said, smiling. “But next time, maybe don’t let them corner you in the first place.”

“I didn’t let them,” he said defensively. “I was waiting for the right moment to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you interrupted, laughing. “Sure you were.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As the two of you walked side by side, the unspoken bond between you felt stronger than ever.

Part 22: The Question

Later that evening, after the chaos of the day had settled, you were sprawled across your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had half a mind to text Damian, maybe tease him about his stoic response to the fight earlier. But before you could decide, your phone buzzed with a message.

Damian: Why do you try so hard with me?

You blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned by the sudden bluntness of the question. Leave it to Damian to dive straight into the deep end without so much as a warning.

For a moment, you considered giving a serious, heartfelt response. But then you thought better of it. That wasn’t how you and Damian worked—not entirely, anyway.

You: Wow, straight to the point, huh? What happened to small talk?

His reply came almost instantly.

Damian: I don’t believe in wasting time. Answer the question.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Typical Damian. You hesitated, then typed out your response.

You: Because someone has to. You’ve got this whole broody, loner thing going on, and it’s exhausting just watching you.

You didn’t expect him to reply right away, but your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Damian: So I’m a project to you.

You: No, you’re not a project. You’re just… you. And you’re interesting, even if you don’t want to admit it.

This time, there was a longer pause before his next message.

Damian: Most people would’ve given up by now.

You: Good thing I’m not most people. ;)

You could almost imagine him rolling his eyes at the text, and the thought made you smile.

Part 23: The Night Unfolds

From there, the conversation shifted. You sent him a meme you thought he’d hate, and to your surprise, he responded with a scathing critique that was almost as funny as the meme itself.

Damian: This is the lowest form of humor. You should be ashamed of yourself.

You: Admit it, you laughed.

Damian: I did not.

You: Liar.

Despite his protests, he started sending you memes of his own—ones that were somehow simultaneously overly intellectual and completely ridiculous. You found yourself laughing so hard that your sides hurt.

As the night stretched on, the two of you traded jokes, shared random observations about life, and even debated the merits of pineapple on pizza (he was vehemently against it; you were firmly in favor).

You: You’re wrong. Pineapple on pizza is amazing.

Damian: It’s an abomination.

You: You’re an abomination.

Damian: Creative. Truly cutting-edge wit.

You: Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.

Part 24: Something More

At some point, the tone of the conversation shifted.

Damian: Why do you laugh so much?

The question caught you off guard, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Damian always had a way of cutting through the surface and going straight to the heart of things.

You: Because life’s too short not to.

Damian: Even when it’s hard?

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: Especially when it’s hard. Laughing doesn’t mean ignoring the bad stuff. It just means not letting it win.

There was a long pause before his next message.

Damian: I think I understand that.

You: Good. Because you could stand to laugh more. It’s good for you.

Damian: I laugh.

You: Sure, in a brooding, vaguely menacing way.

Damian: Is there any other way?

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

Part 25: The Unspoken Connection

By the time the clock struck midnight, the two of you were still texting. The topics ranged from your favorite movies to Damian’s hilariously specific pet peeves, like people who misuse commas.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so at ease with someone, and judging by the fact that Damian hadn’t abruptly ended the conversation, you guessed he felt the same.

As your eyes grew heavy, you sent him one last message.

You: Goodnight, Damian. Thanks for making me laugh tonight.

His reply came almost instantly.

Damian: Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks for… everything.

You smiled at the screen, your chest feeling inexplicably warm. For someone who claimed to be so closed off, Damian had a way of making you feel like you mattered.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something rare in him. Something worth holding onto.

Part 26: The Argument

It had started out as a normal afternoon. You and Damian were hanging out in your usual spot after school, exchanging dry remarks and teasing each other like always. But somewhere along the line, the conversation took a turn.

“I don’t get why you’re always so reckless,” Damian said, arms crossed as he leaned against a wall. “You don’t think things through. Like with those guys yesterday. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t about to let them treat you like that, Damian. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and watch?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone sharp. “I didn’t need your help. I had it under control.”

“Right, because standing there like a statue was totally working,” you shot back. “Face it, Damian, you can’t handle the idea of someone else helping you. It’s like your ego can’t take it.”

Damian’s expression darkened, his green eyes flashing. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you’re helping, but all you’re doing is making things worse.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you didn’t back down. “I was trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” he snapped. “You’re not some hero, Y/N. You’re just a kid who doesn’t know when to stay out of things.”

The words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you just stared at him, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “I didn’t realize I was such a burden. Guess I’ll just stop caring, then.”

Before he could respond, you swung your fist, hitting him square in the chest. He barely flinched, but the impact was enough to make you step back, breathing hard.

Damian didn’t move. He just stood there, his jaw tight, his hands at his sides. “If that makes you feel better, fine,” he said quietly.

It didn’t. Not really. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked away, ignoring the way your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

Part 27: The Apology

That night, your phone buzzed with a message. You ignored it at first, still too upset to deal with whatever Damian had to say. But when it buzzed again, curiosity got the better of you.

Damian: I’m sorry.

You stared at the screen, your anger flickering like a dying flame.

Damian: I shouldn’t have said that. You’re not a burden. You’re the opposite of that.

Another message followed a moment later.

Damian: I’ll make it up to you. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you. My treat.

You hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Finally, you typed out a response.

You: Anywhere?

Damian: Anywhere.

Part 28: The Comic Shop

The next day, Damian was waiting outside your house, dressed in his usual dark hoodie and jeans.

“A comic book shop?” he asked skeptically as you led the way down the street.

“You said anywhere,” you replied with a grin. “And this is where I want to go.”

The moment you stepped inside, the familiar smell of old paper and ink washed over you. Rows of colorful covers lined the walls, and you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up inside you.

“Oh my gosh, they have the new issue of Nightwing: Legends!” you said, practically bouncing on your toes.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously geeking out over this?”

“Yes,” you said, grabbing the comic and hugging it to your chest. “Don’t judge me.”

He smirked. “Too late.”

You wandered through the aisles, pointing out your favorite series and rattling off obscure trivia about the characters. Damian trailed behind you, his usual stoicism replaced by a faint look of amusement.

Part 29: The Confession

As you reached the checkout counter, you glanced at Damian, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Sorry if I was being weird back there,” you said, setting your stack of comics on the counter.

“You weren’t being weird,” he said, tilting his head.

You sighed. “Yes, I was. It’s just… this stuff makes me happy, you know? And I guess I wanted to share that with you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he asked, “Why?”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming. “Because I like you, okay? And not just as a friend. I like you in the… more-than-friends way.”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “You like me?”

“Yes, Damian,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you. Even when you’re being a jerk. Especially when you’re being a jerk, apparently.”

To your surprise, a small smile tugged at his lips. “You have terrible taste.”

You laughed, relief flooding through you. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Good,” he said softly.

And as the two of you left the shop, your bag full of comics and your heart lighter than it had been in days, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something amazing.

Part 30: Damian’s Birthday Party

The weekend had finally arrived, and for the first time in a long while, Damian actually seemed excited about something—his birthday. It wasn’t exactly a birthday party in the traditional sense. Damian didn’t want a huge spectacle, but when Bruce insisted that the entire family celebrate, Damian reluctantly agreed.

It was a massive event at the Wayne Manor, with people from all walks of life—family friends, business associates, a few close classmates, and some of Damian’s more eccentric acquaintances. The grand hall was decorated with dark tones, but you could tell Bruce had made an effort to add a bit of brightness. There were trays of food and drink set up along the walls, and a live band played soft jazz in the background, trying to keep things casual.

Damian stood near the edge of the room, his usual stony demeanor intact, but you could see the small smile tugging at his lips every time someone wished him a happy birthday. You’d never seen him like this before—unusually relaxed and almost… happy.

You had already given him his gift—something you thought he’d appreciate: a rare comic book from his favorite series—and the look of genuine surprise on his face made you grin.

It wasn’t long before you noticed someone from Damian’s school walk in—one of the guys who always hung around with the “popular” crowd. You’d seen him around before, but he wasn’t someone you cared for. His name was Marcus, and he had this smug, cocky attitude that rubbed you the wrong way.

You didn’t pay much attention to him at first, but then, as you were talking with some of the other guests, you saw him approach.

“Hey, Y/N,” Marcus greeted you, his tone overly friendly. “You look amazing tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, already feeling a hint of discomfort. “Uh, thanks, Marcus,” you said, trying to keep your voice polite.

“You know, you’re a lot more interesting than I thought,” he continued, his smile bordering on flirtatious. “I mean, I thought you were just some… quiet girl, but you’re not so bad.”

You exchanged a glance with Damian, who was standing just across the room, talking to Tim. The moment his eyes met yours, you saw his expression shift—his eyes darkening, his jaw tightening.

“Thanks,” you said, giving a tight smile and trying to step back. “I’m not really looking to talk right now.”

Marcus, however, seemed undeterred. He stepped closer, clearly not picking up on your discomfort. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I know you’ve got better taste than the people you hang out with.”

At that, you felt a flash of irritation. “Excuse me?”

Before Marcus could say anything else, you noticed Damian walking toward you. He didn’t even acknowledge Marcus at first, his eyes locked on you, but his posture was stiff, tense. There was an almost palpable sense of possessiveness radiating from him as he approached.

“Is everything alright?” Damian asked, his voice colder than usual.

Marcus blinked, clearly taken aback. “I was just talking to Y/N,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “No harm done, right?”

But Damian didn’t look like he was in the mood for games. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Marcus,” he said, his voice low and controlled, but there was a sharp edge to it.

Marcus shrugged and gave a half-laugh. “Whatever, dude. I was just trying to be friendly.”

“Then keep your distance,” Damian replied, his eyes narrowing as he gave Marcus one last hard look before turning back to you.

You were too shocked by the interaction to speak for a moment. Damian had never acted like this before, especially not over someone like Marcus.

Part 31: The Jealousy

As the evening went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Damian’s mood shifted. He was still polite with the guests, but there was an undeniable tension in his movements, a guardedness you hadn’t seen before. Every time you were talking to someone else, his gaze would flick to you, and if anyone got too close, you could see him visibly stiffen.

At one point, you found yourself talking to Tim, and as you laughed at one of his jokes, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned, and there stood Damian, his expression unreadable.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his tone quieter now.

“Sure,” you said, feeling a bit confused, but following him to a quieter part of the room.

Once you were away from the crowd, he crossed his arms, his eyes flashing in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. “You shouldn’t let people like Marcus get so close.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t trust him.” His voice was tight, as though he was holding something back.

“You don’t trust him?” you repeated, surprised by the intensity in his words. “Damian, he’s just being—”

“No,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his gaze now intense. “He was flirting with you. I don’t want him near you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but stare at him, speechless for a moment. “Damian, I can handle myself. I didn’t need you to step in—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was sharper now, his jaw clenched. “I don’t want anyone else getting any ideas.”

You took a step back, feeling an unexpected rush of heat on your face. There was no denying it now—Damian was jealous.

“Damian, I didn’t—”

He stepped forward, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, voice low. “I don’t like seeing you with anyone else. Not when they don’t treat you like you deserve.”

You blinked, the sudden rush of emotions leaving you stunned. “What are you saying?”

Damian hesitated, his gaze softening slightly. “I’m saying… I care about you, Y/N. I care about you more than I thought I did.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. His usual guarded nature seemed to crack open, just enough for you to glimpse something raw and real beneath it all.

Part 32: The Moment of Truth

Before you could respond, the sound of the party rumbled back in, and you felt a strange tension still simmering between you and Damian. He shifted, not quite meeting your gaze now.

“You… don’t have to feel the same way,” Damian said quietly, though you could hear the vulnerability beneath the sharp edge of his voice.

You smiled softly, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Damian, I think you’re the one who doesn’t get it.”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking with yours, and you could see the flicker of uncertainty there.

“I like you, too,” you confessed, your voice steady now. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian’s expression softened, the tension in his body slowly releasing. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you as if trying to process your words. Finally, he nodded, a small, genuine smile forming at the corners of his lips.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

And with that, the two of you stood there, in the quiet of the mansion, feeling the weight of everything unsaid finally beginning to shift.

Part 33: A New Beginning

The night stretched on as the party continued. But for you and Damian, time seemed to slow. After that conversation, things felt different—better, somehow. The awkward tension that had loomed over the two of you for so long had finally broken, and in its place was a sense of comfort.

You found yourself standing at the edge of the room with Damian by your side, the two of you watching the festivities from a distance. He had loosened up, no longer the guarded, distant person he used to be. Now, there was an unspoken understanding between you, something that felt natural, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

“I didn’t think I’d actually enjoy this kind of party,” Damian muttered, his eyes scanning the room. “It’s all a bit… loud.”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah, I get that. It’s not exactly your vibe.”

He glanced at you, his lips curving into a small, amused smile. “You don’t mind though, do you?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m with you, so it’s fine.”

Damian raised an eyebrow at that, as if measuring the sincerity of your words. “Good,” he replied, his tone softening slightly.

Just then, Bruce walked by, flashing a quick, knowing smile at the two of you. “Enjoying yourselves?” he asked, his voice light and friendly.

Damian’s eyes flicked toward him, a faint scowl on his face. “I’m fine,” he replied, his tone a little sharper than usual. Bruce just chuckled, clearly amused.

“We’re all proud of you, Damian,” Bruce said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve grown a lot. You deserve this.”

Damian didn’t respond immediately, but there was a small shift in his posture, almost as if he appreciated the sentiment. Bruce gave both of you a final glance before walking off to mingle with the guests.

You and Damian stood in silence for a moment, but it was a comfortable silence, the kind that felt easy rather than awkward.

“Thanks for being here,” Damian said after a while, his voice unusually soft.

You turned to look at him, surprised. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded, looking down at the floor for a moment before his gaze met yours again, this time with more intensity. “Good,” he repeated, his voice low.

Part 34: Getting Closer

As the night wore on, more and more guests started leaving, the sounds of chatter and laughter dying down. The grand hall had become quieter, more intimate. You and Damian found yourselves lingering by the doors, both of you reluctant to let the night end.

“You don’t mind staying a little longer, do you?” he asked, his voice almost hesitant now, as though he was worried you might want to leave.

You shook your head, smiling softly. “Not at all. I’m in no rush.”

The two of you made your way to the balcony, where the cool night air wrapped around you, offering a welcome break from the warmth of the party. The view from the balcony overlooked the sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, the lights from the distant city twinkling in the background.

“Thanks for making tonight… different,” you said, leaning against the stone railing. “It was nice, being here with you.”

Damian stood next to you, his arms crossed as he gazed out into the distance. “I didn’t think I’d want to do this,” he admitted, his voice surprisingly vulnerable. “But… I guess it wasn’t so bad after all.”

You chuckled. “You just needed the right company.”

He turned to face you then, his gaze intense. “I’m glad it’s you,” he said quietly, a softness in his tone that you hadn’t heard before.

You met his gaze, your heart racing in your chest. The connection between you had deepened so much in such a short time, and in that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place.

Damian leaned in slightly, as though he was about to say something more, but just then, Tim appeared behind you, his voice loud and cheerful.

“Hey, you two! Bruce is about to cut the cake. You better get in there before Alfred scolds us all for being late.”

Damian sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not sure I want to deal with Alfred’s nagging right now.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “You know you’ll go anyway. You wouldn’t miss cake for the world.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s true.”

With a final glance at you, he started heading back inside, and you followed, the warmth of the party welcoming you again.

Part 35: The Tension Builds

As the night came to a close, you found yourself standing near the grand staircase, saying your goodbyes to the last of the guests. Damian was standing next to you, his posture relaxed but still carrying an air of quiet intensity.

“Are you planning to stick around tomorrow?” you asked, glancing at him.

“I don’t have much going on,” he said, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Why? You need a guide for whatever adventure you’re planning next?”

You laughed. “Maybe.”

There was something different about the way he looked at you now, an unspoken understanding between the two of you that hadn’t been there before.

“Good,” he said softly, his eyes holding yours for a long moment. “Because I’ll be there.”

Part 36: The Kiss

It wasn’t until the party was winding down that you and Damian finally had a chance to breathe. The room had grown empty, save for a few lingering guests and the staff cleaning up. You stood off to the side, chatting quietly, when Damian took a small step toward you, his expression unreadable.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was about to say.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice almost hesitant. “I meant what I said earlier.”

You blinked, confused for a moment, then realized what he was referring to. “You… you like me?”

He nodded slowly, his usual confidence warring with something else. “Yeah. I’ve never said it before, but it’s the truth.”

You didn’t know what to say at first, your heart pounding in your chest. But then, before you could speak, he took another step closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours.

And then it happened—Damian, the boy who’d always kept everyone at arm’s length, leaned forward and kissed you, softly at first, but with an undeniable intensity that made your heart race.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the party, the guests, even the noise of the mansion itself. It was just the two of you, in that moment, finally realizing how much you meant to each other.

When he pulled back, his eyes were searching yours, as if asking for confirmation.

“I meant it,” he repeated, his voice low but steady. “You’re everything to me, Y/N.”

And you smiled, feeling the warmth of his words in your chest.

“I feel the same, Damian,” you whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “I think I always have.”

[ur-nutt]

a memory of blossoms and blades

blade/yingxing x gn. reader // angst? angst!

warning: character death

The lake stretched before you, endless and shimmering, a mirror reflecting the sky’s tender blues and whites. The afternoon sun bathed everything in gold, casting gentle shadows of the lotus trees swaying nearby. You were perched on the grassy banks, hands idly skimming the cool surface of the water, while Yingxing lay sprawled beside you, the edges of his robes damp from your earlier antics.

“You’ve been staring at me for five minutes,” he said, not bothering to turn his head. “Careful, or I might start thinking you’re captivated.”

You scoffed. “It’s not my fault you’re too lazy to move. I’m debating whether I should push you into the lake.”

He finally glanced over, his azure eyes narrowing in mock challenge. “You wouldn’t dare.”

And you did.

The splash startled a flock of cranes nearby, their wings flapping as they disappeared into the endless sky. Yingxing surfaced a moment later, hair plastered to his face as he wiped water from his eyes. His glare was fierce but short-lived, melting into a crooked grin. “I’ll make you regret that.”

You were already laughing, taking a step back as he lunged toward you, his wet hands catching your wrist. “Yingxing!” you shrieked as he dragged you into the water with him, your laughter echoing across the lake.

The two of you wrestled in the shallows, your attempts to splash him thwarted by his quick reflexes. Finally, he caught both your wrists, his grip firm but gentle as he stilled your movements.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “there’s no one else I’d let throw me into a lake.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, what an honor.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone. “You make the world... quieter. Even when you’re loud.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden sincerity. The sunlight danced on his features, and for a moment, you swore the lake envied him.

“You’re terrible at this whole ‘being sweet’ thing,” you said, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But only for you.”

The two of you collapsed onto the bank after that, soaking wet but breathless with laughter. He leaned over, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If there’s a way to freeze time, I’d do it now,” he murmured.

“I’d keep us here, just like this.”

Somehow, the weight of his blade was heavier than the memories.

The cool metal kissed your throat, unmoving and absolute. His face—so familiar yet now so distant—betrayed nothing, his crimson eyes dull and lifeless.

You lying down, surrender, your weapon forgotten at your side. There was no point in fighting anymore. You knew it, and somehow, you felt he did too.

“Go on,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “You’ve already taken everything else. What’s one more life to add to the pile?”

For a moment, his expression flickered—barely, like a shadow passing over the moon. Was it hesitation? Recognition? Or just your own desperate hope clawing at the edges of reality?

“Why don’t you finish it, Yingxing?” you whispered, and the name fell from your lips like a prayer.

His grip faltered.

The silence between you was deafening. You stared into his eyes, searching for any trace of the man who once chased you across sunlit fields, who once swore he’d freeze time just to keep you by his side.

It wasn’t there.

Or maybe it was. Just for a moment, fleeting as the last rays of sunlight on a dying day, you thought you saw it—the glint of a memory neither of you could bear to let go of.

“You’ve always been stubborn,” you said, a soft smile curling your lips. “Even now, you can’t decide whether to hate me or miss me.”

His jaw clenched, his hand trembling slightly as the blade pressed closer. You felt the sting, sharp and cold, but you didn’t flinch.

Instead, you closed your eyes, letting the memories wash over you. The laughter, the sunlight, the way he had looked at you as if you were his entire world.

“I’ll remember for both of us,” you murmured, your voice fading as the warmth drained from your body. “I’ll carry it all.”

You opened your eyes one last time, meeting his gaze. The tears there were silent, unacknowledged, but undeniable.

“Yingxing,” you said softly, your smile bittersweet. “You were always the sun. I was just lucky enough to orbit you.”

And as the darkness claimed you, you swore you saw it again—that flicker of a memory, brighter than the blade, softer than the past, lingering in the once azure depths of his eyes.

sleep schedules are all over the place, but i’ll deal with it later.

[penvisions]

i'd give anything for more time {jack daniels x f! reader}

Pairing: Jack Daniels x F! Reader (Retired! Agent Whiskey x F! Reader)

Summary: He's nowhere, not really. Stuck in the ambient space of a random coffee shop. Doesn't know what he's looking for, until you walk in.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst, yearning, mild language, kissing, time loop weirdness, mentions of heath issues, grief

A/N: i'm gonna be real with y'all, i....struggled with this. had something FAR more angsty outlined for the role-a-trope challenge the moment i got the trope assigned to me. but i'm tired and wanted something a little more happy and this was the result. i hope this is kinda on point @burntheedges. mine was time loop / groundhog day with jack daniels and man i hope i did it justice after all this time!! cause i know this is hella late and i apologize for that

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The coffee shop is bustling, the grinding of beans, the buzz of many voices, the dings and mechanical sounds of the register, of the phones in people’s hands, music over speakers, the steam want of an espresso machine working away.

And Jack is standing in the middle of it all, for what feels like the millionth time.

He’s not real, at least…he doesn’t think he’s real.

The first few times he was here, it seemed like he just appeared amidst the hustle and bustle of a weekday morning. He’s confused, he was just in the middle of a meeting. Asking if he wanted to pick up a job even though he’s retired. He faintly remembers an argument. All heated words and half responses that had turned into forlorn words. His tall legs carrying him out of a door, out of an entryway lined with frames photos and art, a colorful catchall dish by the door containing keys. He had dug them into his palm as the door closed behind him, he looks at it now though there are no marks or redness.

He had left something behind, someone behind. Even if he can’t recall their figure or face.

All he knows is the hectic space he occupies now. Though even when he stands in line to order, resigned to the task he’s spaced out in the middle of doing, he feels like it’s familiar too. No one seems to care that he’s in line, they walk in front of him like he’s not even there. But he lets it go, mind busy with trying to reclaim the events that led him here.

The job he had taken doesn’t even register, he’s unaware if this is a part of it. Staking out, searching for someone, searching for information. He has no clue how he got here, why he’s here or why the cheery barista behind the counter doesn’t seem to hear him when he saunters up to the register to finally place his order.

She steadfastly ignores him, even as he leans over the counter and tips the hat atop his head. He’s in his typical ‘blend in with the civilians’ outfit, tight jeans, nice dark boots that match his leather jacket over a plain white shirt. His amber sunglasses hang from his collar and his belt buckle clinks against the edge of the marble as he leans closer.  His smile falters as she sees right through him and begins to talk to the woman behind him. Easily taking her order and then moving onto the person behind her.

Shoving off from the counter with a frown, he raises a hand to thumb at his bottom lip. Stretching a hand over the small partition between the display case and the public, he snags a pastry. But no words of ‘hey, sir you’ve got to pay for that!’ or other reprimands color the air.

He wanders around the shop, looking for someone out of place. Looking for someone who could be undercover like him. But everything is normal. Everything down to the minutes ticking by on the large clock, the to go cups placed on the pick up counter and then being swept away by impatient hands to the conversations that he begins to sift through with almost burning ears.

Everything is normal.

Except for the fact that he’s invisible.

Just as suddenly as he found himself in the coffee shop, his vision faded, and he was gone from it too.

-

He tries talking to different people, each time he opens his eyes from the abyss that claims him. But no one ever responds, no one acknowledges that he’s a real living and breathing person. And Jack begins to question if he even is anymore…surely he would know if he experienced a painful death as an agent on a mission?

He’s retired now, he thinks so at least. He doesn’t recall anything recent, nothing beyond the countless times he emerges from darkness to find himself in the middle of the coffee shop. This time though, when he realizes where he is there’s a pull in his navel that has him turning on his heels to face the door just as you walk through. Remnants of a heated interaction flare in his memory and he grasps at the tendrils before they fade. But he’s too slow or a loud noise interrupts and sends him spinning in that direction in alarm.

His heart flutters fast, almost painful. His chest twinging in a way a cramped muscle would even as he sees you approach.

“Excuse me, are you in line?” Your voice is sweet like honey, welcoming and making him feel at ease like a soft breeze of air on a summer’s day. He looks around and expects someone else to answer but you repeat the question with a note of concern and when you’re hand reached out to gently touch his he startles- because he can feel the pressure from your touch.

And he’s gaping at you, because finally, someone is acknowledging him.

He shakes his head, unable to form a polite answer and gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“Oh, it’s alright. You look a little off, how about I order with you, and we can have a sit?”

The way your eyes rake over him has his entire body lighting up- you’re gorgeous and sweet and he wants nothing more than to do exactly what you’re suggesting. As you two order, he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Wary that this is all fleeting, and he was right to worry because as soon as you both settle into a set of chairs around a table everything fades once again.

-

It happens again and again, the same way. But you look different each time. Different clothing, different hair styling, despite the conversation being the same. Someone who sees him and offers a kind smile and help towards someone who appears far too confused and out of place.

Then one day he notices the wrinkles beside your eyes, the dark circles beneath them. The weight you drop and the chapped, chewed state of your lips. A once polished and bright woman, now appearing ragged and stressed. He decides to ask if you’re okay the next time he comes to consciousness in the coffee shop, but you don’t show up. He’s back to being invisible and loss pangs harshly in his chest.

-

He doesn’t materialize in the coffee shop after that, the scene he’s damned to visit every day the same entry way he had first recalled what seems ages ago. For what seems like years before his steps allow him to cross over into an empty bedroom. It always feels wrong, the blurred photos along the walls tugging at him though they never clear enough for him to see what they depict. He thinks he can make out the faint outline of you, so fresh from his memory in the coffee shop, the same interaction time and time again drilled into him though it doesn’t do a think to take him back there and see you.

How the way he seems to exist altered the moment he wanted to change things up and reach out, to ensure you were okay. He feels less real now that no one is in this setting, a home that feels anything but. Echoes of a life lived and tainted by a dark feeling he can’t shake.

He's allowed to peel back the covers of the bed this time, his body taking up the space in the bed like he belongs there. The other side cold and empty haunting him. He's grateful to be able to softly snooze off instead of darkness consuming him to end the moment.

-

He’s afraid to open his eyes, to see the empty bed beside him. A lonesome reprieve he had settled into the last time he was aware of himself. He had woken peacefully, of his own accord and it was a blessing to not suddenly find himself standing amid blurred photos and a dark entryway.

But he can hear the soft breathing of someone else, can almost feel the weight of their body as it’s almost close enough to touch his own. He’s shifting, eyes flying open and all he feels is euphoria as he sees you fast asleep beside him.

Your face scrunches up, nose wrinkling and hands coming up from underneath covers to rub at your cheeks and forehead. An eye peeks at him from underneath one and he swears his heart stutters.

“How many times I gotta tell you to stop starin’ at me?”

“Couldn’t help it, you’re as beautiful as a fresh morning bathed in early sun.” The warm words spring from him, praise very much real and his fingers itch to reach for you.

“Pfft, Jack.” You groan, though there’s no real annoyance in your tone. It’s bashful, if anything. But its far too early for his poetic waxing, you haven’t even checked the time yet. But based on the darkness behind the curtains, there’s hours yet until its time to rise for the day. Your thoughts stall as he slides across the bed. Arms tangling tightly around your middle and pulling you into him.

“Roll your eyes all you want, but it’s true.” He’s determined for you to know, to hear, to feel seen by him.

“Such a goddamn sap.”

“Yeah,” He breathes, the smile that breaks out over your face making his chest feel light. He recalls the feeling when you had first made eye contact with him in the middle of the coffee shop and warmth blooms in his chest.

The endless cycle of his dreams that give him vertigo and existential dread quickly fading from his mind as he realizes that’s all they were: dreams. Because he’s here with you and the scar you trace over in the center of his chest tells him that it was all a side effect of the sudden palpitations that had taken over his heart and the way his body coped with the healing he struggled to do afterwards.

He had indeed met you in that coffee shop, his mind taking him back to that moment again and again as he had laid in a bed for months, a coma taking his consciousness after an infection settled into his body. His mind trying to ease him in some twisted way as you sat by his bedside day in and day out. He can only imagine the turmoil you must’ve experienced as everything comes rushing back to him, dizzying him with the onslaught of out of body experiences and how you must’ve felt so lost and confused without him by your side.

But he’s here now, you’re here now and he’s dropping his lips to yours in reassurance when he sees concern fill yours at his solemn recognition of the situation. He's determined to be present, to be aware, and to shower you with everything he had to make up for the time he lost with you.

[blackmoonowl]

𝑫𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

ꨄ Pairing: Barbatos (Obey me) x reader

ꨄ Summary: Cooking with Barbatos, nothing more nothing less. Very Mild suggestive warning I guess.

ꨄ Word Count: 1162

ꨄ A/N: Yet another Christmas special to celebrate the end of this game, which has been on life support for years now. In light of Obey me having ended.

Christmas dinner asked for a lot of preparation.

Barbatos saw it as an excuse. The brothers had always occupied your time, and he rarely got to be with you one on one. So, when you agreed to help him prepare for a dinner the Young Master was hosting, his lips quirked up into a slightly larger smile as he held his D.D.D to his ear. When you hung up, he placed the device down on the kitchen counter. He should make the place look pristine before you arrived. He had wiped the counter, washed all the dishes and laid the ingredients in a coherent order. The butler had to keep himself busy before you arrived, somehow. Perhaps he'd focus on cleaning the floors for now.

"Welcome." You nearly jumped out of your skin as Barbatos opened the door barely a second after you knocked. Barbatos noticed your expression, only smiling. "I hope you had no troubles traveling here?"

"Er, no. Everything went just fine," you assured him as he let you inside the vast interior of the castle. No matter how many times you visited, you still found yourself relying on Barbatos for navigation through the many halls. Barbatos' flawless pace never faltered as he guided you to the kitchen as you engaged in small talk.

"I am very pleased you chose to assist me; I have a lot of dishes to prepare before tonight," he explained as he held the kitchen door for you. "I was unsure if I would have been able to do so without your help."

"It's really no problem. I was hoping to get out of the House of Lamentation anyway," you replied with a small smile, looking down at the ingredients he had laid out. "Though, I'm pretty sure you could achieve anything you want in time without my help."

"Is that so?" Barbatos questioned as he stopped beside you, inspecting a vegetable for any damage. He decided to completely ignore your last comment, his lip quirking up slightly. "Why is that?"

"Chaos," you simply replied. "They can't for the life of them figure out what they want to do for Christmas." You leaned back on the container as he smiled.

"Well, that is hardly surprising, it is as if they have a reputation to hold onto," Barbatos hummed as he handed you a cutting board and some of the vegetables. You began chopping the vegetables with practiced ease, chuckling. The two of you had cooked together so often that you immediately knew what to do, and it pleased him deeply. It was something that connected the two of you, something uniquely yours and his.

"You are becoming quite talented," he commented as you placed the chopped vegetables in the pot.

"I learned from the best." You have him a wink as you put the pot on the fire before joining him as he prepared the meat. Barbatos lightly shook his head, amused. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Your company is more than enough," Barbatos assured you. "However if you insist, you may prepare the batter for dessert. I shall be there to aid you shortly after I finish preparations for the main course."

Barbatos watched as you grabbed the basic ingredients, before stepping in to hand you some Devildom fruits. You took them, looking at him.

"Cut these in slices so we can place then on the top later," he explained with a small smile before putting the meat away, changing his gloves to a pair of clean ones that weren't stained with blood from the raw meat. He watched as you mixed the ingredients for the batter. Barbatos took over at that point. You weren't going to question why he was kneading the dough with freshly clean gloves on as you started on the fruit.

"Do you want to try some?" You asked, breaking the silence and calling the butlers attention to you. His eyes looked at the piece of shadow kiwi held in your hands before glancing at his dough covered gloves. In a split second, a sneaky thought crossed his mind.

"Of course, I am occupied, however. Would you mind feeding me?" He asked, feigning innocence as he watched your cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, sure," you mumbled, trying you hardest not stumble over your own words as you placed the fruit against his lips. Barbatos opened his mouth, accepting the fruit you placed on his tongue. He caught your finger between his lips, slowly releasing it while maintaining eye contact. He relished in your flustered expression as your brain scrambled to play it off. Truth was, he was fully aware how it tasted, having bought it himself.

"It is delicious, thank you." He smiled a bit wider as you bashfully cleaned your hands before you went back to cutting fruit. Barbatos noted your cutting skills had become slightly messier, clearly distracted. Barbatos saw a second opportunity, and he took it. Gracefully taking off his dough-stained gloves, he stood behind you, his bare hands going over your own, feeling you tense.

"You are getting sloppy," he scolded, though there was no bite to his tone. He had no reason to be mad, you were playing right into his hand. You stared down at his slender fingers and purple nail polish as he helped you cut the fruit, his warm breath hitting your neck as he focused on the task at hand. His chest brushed against your back, and you practically felt like a tomato.

"Thanks," you breathed as everything was cut into slices. You arranged the fruit into bowls, a futile attempt to distract yourself from the eyes of the butler.

"It is not a problem." Barbatos stepped away from you, grabbing the dough and spreading it in the baking tins before he placed them in the oven. He mixed some of the icing together as you watched.

"Would you like to try some?" He asked, watching you out of his peripheral vision. He lifted the icing covered spatula. "I have finished everything else."

You nodded as he held the spatula out to you. You tasted some of the icing, it staining the corners of your mouth.

"It's good!" You complimented with a small smile as you raised your hand to wipe off the corner of your mouth, but he stopped you, gently grabbing your wrist before leaning in. When you didn't pull away, he gently licked the corner of your mouth before pressing his lips to yours. You leaned closer, allowing him to grab you by the hips and pull you closer. It seemed like everything faded away in that moment. His hand went up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as the other still held your waist. Eventually he pulled away, that same smile never faltering.

"Do not get distracted now, we have many dishes left to finish." Barbatos smiled, putting his gloves back on. Seeing your disappointed expression, he chuckled.

"Fret not, we have plenty of time alone after that."

[caithyra]

Still only Game Pack worthy...

So we now have a full list of items in CAS and BB of TS4: Horse Ranch, and nearly all the hairstyles are very similar to hairs of previous packs (I previously called out the side-braid for being an updated version of a Get Together braid, but the chin-length swept back hair looks a lot like hairs from City Living and Growing Together, the shoulder length with bangs/fringe looks like one I think we got in Snowy Escape, and so on and so forth). We got even more cowboy hats and boots (after base game and Strangerville) and so on...

I guess we also have confirmation of unicorns (or at least the ability to put horns on horses).

On the BB side I’m very disappointed that we’re not getting rocking horses or hobby horses (horse head on a stick) for the toddlers and children. Or a merry-go-round. Or a mechanical bull. Or... Yeah, lots of missed opportunities.

And Gameplay-wise I am not holding my breath for equestrian after school activities/part-time jobs either, even though they should be easy to implement as rabbit holes (after school activity: pony club/riding school/whatever/part-time job: groom/stablehand?), and I haven’t yet heard anything about any careers being included (trainer, jockey, stable manager, etc). But who knows, maybe they’ll surprise us?

[soonyoungs]

[12:29 am] - cheol

“slow down,” he’s practically begging you “please, sl-slow down or i’m going to bust” his head is thrown back against the headboard. with newfound determination you manage to grind yourself down harder on his hips, pushing him deeper inside. “babe,” he tries warning in a stern voice “i’m serious”. 

a small sigh leaves your lips as you pout, lifting the shirt that is covering where the two of you are connected. bringing your hips to a deep, slow grind you whine. “but baby,” you lull your head to the side, your eyes glazed over in a pleasure filled haze “your cock feels so good”. your head rolls back as you close your eyes and speed up your pace again, while reaching down passed your tummy to give your clit the attention it needed. you let out a loud, straggled groan at the added stimulation. small huffs of seungcheol’s name and strings of cursing fly from your mouth. seungcheol is in awe watching you; he’s never seen you this desperate for pleasure before and he’s becoming addicted to it.

seungcheol is quick to action when you pick up the pace, tightening his grip on your thighs, sticky from the mess you’re making on his lap. as his grip tightens seungcheol forces you to stop all your movements. just when you’re about to protest he braces his feet to the mattress and brings your hips up, lifting you from him, then drops you down as he thrusts up into you, fucking you from below. 

a loud moan leaves your chest as you throw your head back, holding on to his arms, leaving marks as you steady yourself. “‘m gonna cum soon,” seungcheol warns as he sits up straighter and tangles a hand in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your neck. he leans forward enough to leave wet kisses on your pulse points as he drills into you.  

seungcheol is breathing against your neck when you feel yourself begin to let go, “cumming, seungcheol” you pant as he begins to fuck you harder. you’re so desperate for release you can hear his movements within you as much as you feel them, which turns you on even more. before you know it you’re reciting “i’m cumming” as if it were a mantra as you squeeze around seungcheol. you’re gripping his head to steady yourself, actively pushing him deeper into your neck.

“fuck,” seungcheol grunts as your high washes over you and you tighten around his cock. he’s leaving soothing kisses on your neck as your grip on him loosens. seungcheol manages to bring his forehead to yours leaving open mouthed kisses on your lips while you continue to moan out his name. your hips are still grinding down on his lap as you ride out your high and hope that seungcheol is close to his. “almost there baby,” he whispers against your lips “so good for me, angel. just like that, keep moving just like that, you feel so fucking good.” a few more rolls of your hips and mentions of how good he feels and how big he is and he’s a goner. seungcheol’s hips falter as his pace becomes uneven and he’s digging his fingers into your hips to keep you steady. he’s thrown his head back against the headboard again as he cums inside of you, filling you to the brim.

you sit on his lap and wiggle your hips as he comes down, teasing him slightly, only stopping when he says your name in a soft warning. “fine,” you pout “you’re so mean to me… never let me have any fun.” you pretend to be mad, crossing your arms over your chest, huffing it out, jutting your chin and turning your head away from him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

seungcheol sighs, dragging his hand over his face before rubbing his temples to calm himself down before questioning you, “then what was all of this?”

[davinawritings]

You can write werewolf × reader!Fox fem (enemies are lovers), where we constantly tease him)) (fuck)

Pairing: Male Werewolf x Fem Fox Hybrid Reader

Warnings: Sex, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding, creampie, knotting

I hope you enjoy ❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

Realistically, your feud with your massive werewolf neighbor was not something you should spend so much time and energy on. In all fairness, he started your little feud when he trampled over your flower garden on his way back from one of his runs. 

You confronted him once you saw it, and he told you to stop being so sensitive and grow more flowers. From that point on, he became enemy number one. If he wanted to be an asshole, you would be petty and make him miserable. It started small with things like sending him anonymous packages that shot out hot pink glitter when opened and sprinkling his entire front yard with orbeez the night before it rained. He always matched your energy, giving just as good as he got. 

Months later, you needed more ideas. However, a new thought pops into your mind as you see him arrive home from a run. You have lived next to him long enough to know his rut should be starting tomorrow, and he is always particularly wound up the day before. 

What better way to torture your werewolf neighbor than to tease him right before his rut? You quickly run to your bedroom and change into a very short sundress, deciding to forgo panties. 

You make your way to his house and knock on the door with a sickly, sweet smile. Upon noticing your presence, he answers the door with his usual scowl. His voice is gruff and slightly raspy as he asks, “What do you want?”

His voice sends tingles straight through your core, and your brain falters momentarily as you take in his scent. Your pussy begins to slick with arousal, and you squeeze your thighs together. You recover quickly, watching as his eyes rake over your figure and his hands clench, his claws biting into his skin.

You bat your eyelashes and reply, “Well, I was going to make some cookies and realized I am out of sugar. I was wondering if you had any I could use.” He looks at you skeptically before he licks his front teeth and says, “No, I don’t have any sugar.” 

You give him a pout, smiling internally as you watch his eyes flicker to your lips. “Ok. I figured, but it was worth a shot”, you say as you begin to make your way back down the steps of his front porch. 

Right as you get to the last step, you give a small jump to get down to the ground. The small rush of air causes the short skirt of your sundress to rise. You use your tail to flick the skirt even higher, clearly showing your lack of panties and spreading your arousal through the air.

You make it one more step before his strong arms pull you back and into his large chest. He dips his head low, his snout brushing your ear as he says, “You shouldn’t have done that, little fox. I have been fighting for control since I opened the door to you in this fucking tiny sundress. I’m starting my rut, and you decide to come over here and put your ass on full fucking display. This slutty little body is just begging to be bred and knotted”. 

You know you should stay strong and pull from his arms. This is supposed to be you teasing him, not giving in to him, but as you feel his massive cock rub into your lower back, you can’t help but moan and rub back against him. He growls before pushing you onto your hands and knees right in the front yard. 

“Wait, we need to go inside. People could see us”, you say, moving to get back up. He places one of his hands on the back of your neck and shoves your chest against the ground; your ass is high in the air as he flips the bottom of your dress up and over the small of your back. 

“I don’t think so, little fox. You weren’t so concerned about others seeing this perfect little ass. I’m going to fuck you and breed you right here where everyone can see you being my little slut”, he says. Before you have a chance to respond, he thrusts inside of you, and you scream out at the stretch. 

He sets a brutal pace as he fucks you with the sole purpose of knotting and breeding your tight cunt. You can’t help but meet him thrust for thrust, as he rearranges your insides. He manages to hit every fucking nerve ending in your dripping pussy, pleasure crashing over you in tidal waves. 

You should be embarrassed by the spectacle he is making of you. A small glance up shows that your neighbors are indeed watching him breed you; your moans and screams clearly caught their attention.

He leans down and gives a low chuckle as he feels you cream all over his cock again. He gives your ear a little nip before teasing, “You like this, don’t you? Everyone watching me claim and breed you. I can feel your tight cunt cumming all over my cock, and you haven’t even gotten my knot yet, little fox,”. 

You can’t even respond, too overwhelmed with pleasure as he gives your ass a harsh smack, grabbing your tail and pulling on it to drag your pussy back to him with each thrust. 

His thrusts speed up and become harsher as he works to fuck his knot inside you. Your nails dig into the dirt as he gives one last push, his knot popping in and splitting your pussy wide open. Your scream as you cum harder than ever before, your legs shaking and tears pouring down your face as your try and fuck yourself back on him as much as possible. 

He moans loudly as his cock finally starts filling you up with his seed, his knot keeping everything locked in tight. He holds your trembling body close to his own as his orgasm finally comes to a stop, your pussy and womb overstuffed and full of him.

He holds your lower half against him tightly, trying not to jostle you on his knot too much as he stands. He begins returning to his house as he says, “Get ready for when my knot goes down, little fox. That was just a taste; I haven’t even truly started my rut yet, and you haven’t seen what I plan on doing to this gorgeous little body now that no one is watching”. Your cunt clenches around his knot, already excited for what’s to come. 

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[incognit0slut]

On camera

PART 4 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Roommate!Spencer x Camgirl!Reader Spencer requests to take on a more involved role in one of your live streams.

content: (18+) 4k, exhibitionism/voyeur, reader wears lingerie, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, overstimulation (surprisingly it’s him for once), and a hint of cockwarming at the end a/n: this is the second part to a special show although you don't necessarily have to read it to understand what’s happening. this took a while because… there was a little pressure? i didn’t expect people to wait on this i hope it lives up to the expectations, let me know what you think my cuties<3

You nudged your foot against his. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine."

"Are you sure? You've been quiet ever since you sat down."

He felt the words knot up in his throat. The quiet wasn’t hesitation, it was disbelief. The kind that lingered in the gap between what he imagined and what was happening. The lack of conviction that defied logic, even when he was the one who initiated to exist beyond just a pair of hands at the edges of the frame.

"Spence?”

He glanced at you. Deep pools of brown drowning in lust swept over the piece of lingerie you decided to put on tonight. Even without much fashion sense, Spencer could appreciate the soft frills of purple lace clinging to your figure. The garter belt wrapped snugly around your waist, leading down to thin straps that framed your smooth thighs, and every logical thought he tried to root out slipped away the longer he looked at you.

Wait. Purple?

Purple.

Although Spencer was sure it probably had a fancier, specific name that bordered on… lilac? Lavender? Or something else elusive he couldn’t quite pin down. To him it was just purple. He might not have the vocabulary to describe the exact shade, but he knew the way it looked on you was nothing short of captivating.

“You’re wearing purple.”

The frown creased between your brows as you tried to make sense of his sudden observation.

“I am.” Your lips formed a slight pout. “And you still haven’t answered my question.“

And he still couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“I thought you were supposed to be Princess Pink?”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. It was true. Pink was your color. The soft, playful blush had always been part of your alter ego. You shifted on your feet, glancing down at the purple lace hugging your hips before meeting his eyes again. A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and for a moment, you looked almost… shy.

“Well, yeah,” you admitted, your voice so soft it dipped into a tone he wasn’t used to hearing from you. Your fingers traced the edge of the fabric absently, and you glanced away again as if finding the floor more interesting.

“I thought maybe… it might help, you know? Calm your nerves or something.” The nervous laugh creeping out of you sounded strained. “I know you like purple… so I figured…”

The corner of his lips curled upwards. His smile reminded you of the times he caught you off guard with a look that was equally amused and deeply affectionate as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

“You wore it for me?”

You felt warmth rise to your neck but decided there was no point in hiding it. “I thought it might make this less scary for you.”

His smile faltered. “I’m not scared.”

“Spencer, you’re about to get naked.”

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. He stated it so plainly with no hint of self-consciousness or hesitation. And technically, he was right. You had seen him completely, wholly bare more times than you could count by now ever since that first night you stripped away his innocence.

You still remembered how you had pulled him across the line from a curious roommate to someone who wanted to know every inch of your body. And that night turned into another, and then another, until what you were doing stopped being about one-off hookups and started blurring the boundaries you’d drawn between friendship and something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on that felt heavier than lust but not quite defined as love.

Spencer was a roommate, a friend, a lover, and eventually, an active participant in your live streams.

His hands were, at least.

You took a step forward, slipping between his legs where he sat comfortably at the edge of your bed. “I have seen you naked,” you agreed, “but they haven’t.”

His hands hovered at your waist, fingers twitching over your lace as if he wasn’t sure where to put them. He glanced up at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips before he finally admitted, “Okay… maybe I am a little nervous.”

“I know, but you don’t need to be. Think of it this way, the people who are going to see us will only be jealous of you.”

“Why would they be jealous of me?”

“Because you’re the one who gets to be with me.” You reached up to brush his hair back from his face, tucking those long, unruly strands behind his ear. “They’re in their rooms jerking off to a screen while you get to kiss me.”

A kiss fell on his lips.

“Touch me.”

Another peck.

“And fuck me.”

He chased your lips this time, his mouth puckering before he closed the gap. His words were muffled against you, “I am pretty lucky.”

“The luckiest,” you mumbled back. A soft smack of a kiss lingered in the air when you pulled away. “And you don’t have to worry, once we get started, you’ll be too distracted to remember what you were even nervous about.”

He hummed, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as his grip on your waist tightened. “I think you might be right.”

“Good.” You moved to the side of the bed. “Now let me set up the camera.”

The tripod attached to the top of your computer screen wobbled slightly as you fiddled with it, adjusting the device until the lens angled down. You observed the setup, making sure it captured your body and the way Spencer’s hand rested on your waist without revealing either of your faces.

Perfect.

“You ready?”

Surprisingly, he was.

With a slight nod from him, you turned on the live stream.

Princess_Pink is online.

Spencer’s eyes widened as the chat erupted in a flurry of notifications, messages pouring in so rapidly they blurred into an endless stream of words.

“That’s a lot of people," he muttered under his breath.

“That’s the usual amount of people.”

“No, it’s not,” he countered. “I can’t even keep up with the chat.” Which was saying a lot. For someone who could read entire pages of text in mere seconds, this was overwhelming in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t let them intimidate you.” You turned around and slipped between his legs again, feeling the way his knees instinctively parted to make space. “Just focus on me.”

Spencer barely managed to nod before your lips met his again, and with that, everything else seemed to dissolve. He could never quite get used to how effortlessly you could unravel him with just a kiss. His hands slid up the back of your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your skin as they trembled slightly, grazing the delicate strap of your garter before settling firmly on your ass.

A surprised giggle bubbled out of you.

“Easy there,” you murmured, catching his bottom lip gently between your teeth before letting it go with a playful tug. “I have to greet them first.”

He reluctantly loosened his grip, letting his fingers linger on you for a final moment before slipping away to rest at his sides. His eyes remained fixed on you as you turned away, shifting your focus back to the screen and reaching over to the mic.

A faint hum filled the room as it came to life. Spencer could feel his breaths gradually falling into sync before your sweet voice cut through the silence like honey.

“Hi, boys,” you purred, letting the greeting roll off your tongue. “Did you miss me?"

Princess.no1.fan: Princess!!! JadenCums: we missed those tits Adam_4432: fucking hot as always Adam_4432: purple looks good on you Crazydick: who's the skinny loser at the back

You rolled your eyes as the comment popped up in the chat.

“This is getting old,” you said with a sigh, fingers hovering over the mouse. “You’re all obsessed with him.”

With a quick flick of your wrist, you blocked the troll and watched with satisfaction as his name disappeared from the list. Spencer tried to peek over your shoulder. “What did they say?”

“Nothing important,” you replied lightly, brushing it off as you turned back to the mic. "Didn’t I tell you guys to play nice?”

Princess.no1.fan: i always play nice with you JadenCums: they’re just jealous of your boy toy Adam_4432: ignore the haters, babe BigBoss88: let him stay in the background ThickNick: you're gorgeous princess

“Remember, if you can’t behave, you don’t get to stay. And I don’t think any of you want to miss out on what we've prepared."

That was his cue, right? He forced down the tightness in his throat, the sensation catching and shifting like a dry click as his pulse quickened. With a quiet exhale, he slipped off the edge of the bed and made his way behind you.

There was a moment of hesitation. But his doubt faded into the background as he focused on the curve of your waist beneath his fingers. He let his hands move slowly, tracing upward with a touch that lingered at the dip of your spine until his fingers brushed the delicate lace of your bra.

Wide hands covered the soft swell of your breasts.

Princess.no1.fan sent a $50 gift.

“See?” you breathed, pressing your back against him. “You play nice, you get to enjoy the show.”

He couldn’t help but squeeze your flesh, fingers sinking in and then pulling back, the skin dimpling under the pressure before slowly springing back. His veins looked prominent, winding up his forearm like delicate, raised lines that caught the light on camera every time he moved over the fabric of your bra.

And the lace offered the thinnest barrier. He could feel the way your nipple firmed underneath his touch, straining subtly as if it, too, was reaching out for more. He traced small, lazy circles around it, and when you arched into him, he had to bite back a smile. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder instead.

“You’re so good at this,” you muttered, letting your hand drift up to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair.

He let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment, his fingers hooking under the edge of your bra’s cup before pulling it down. Your breasts bounced slightly, settling naturally in his palm as the lace slipped away.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

A soft moan escaped you as he began to explore, and Spencer couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that followed. He was rougher than he intended to be at times, testing the line between what made you shiver and what made you push back for more. It was the way he rolled both of your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle pinches and firmer twists, that finally drew the most telling reaction—a subtle, instinctive rub of your ass against him.

He took it as a sign to touch you further, one hand drifting lower while the other stayed firmly in place. Goosebumps prickled over your skin as he slid down your stomach until he reached the edge of your panties. His fingers skimmed along the waistband, and you could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as he brushed his knuckles underneath the delicate material, hesitating.

Adam_4432 sent you a $100 gift.

That was enough to break through his hesitation. Without a word, he slipped his fingers beneath the lace.

The heat between your thighs greeted him, and there was no mistaking what that meant. You were wet, so wet that his fingers glided over your folds like silk. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of smugness as each subtle shift seemed to draw a new sound from your lips.

He let his fingers slide lower, searching, and when he finally found your clit, brushing his fingertips lightly over it, you jerked in his arms. The tiny, sensitive nub was swollen and begging for attention as it pulsed under his touch like a racing heartbeat. He gave gentle rubs. Slow circles. Steady pressure. The more he explored, the more your arousal smeared against his fingertips.

“Oh—you’re gonna make me cum so fast,” you gasped. You threw your head back against his shoulder, letting out a whine you knew would drive your viewers wild. “What do you think, boys? Should he make me cum now?”

The chat lit up instantly, flooded with messages begging you to let go, but between the rapid scroll of usernames and flashing emojis, one message caught your eye.

Looking4Sluts: no Looking4Sluts: cum on his cock Looking4Sluts sent you a $200 gift.

The notification flashed across the screen, and you felt a surge of adrenaline, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Do you see that, baby?”

He nodded against your neck.

“They want more of you,” you purred, letting your hips roll back against him, pressing yourself closer to his obvious erection. “They want to see just how good you make me feel.”

Your words went straight to his cock. His touch suddenly changed as he began to move faster against your clit, and a choked gasp spilled from your lips. But just as the pressure started to build rapidly, you quickly grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from your panties.

“No, not yet,” you stopped him, turning your head to catch his ear, your lips brushing against the shell. “Wanna cum on your cock.”

He watched as you reached down and slowly hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties, sliding them down your legs. A thin string of your arousal followed as you lowered the fabric, clinging to the lace before it finally broke and left a glistening trail against your thigh.

His balls tightened painfully.

Princess.no1.fan: Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot JadenCums: fisting my cock so hard Fatcock_777: wreck that damn pussy PussyLover69: i bet she’s fucking tight Looking4Sluts: jesus christ, she’s dripping

Spencer’s mind emptied the moment you leaned forward, planting your palms firmly on the desk for balance. The way your body arched made his pulse stutter, a surge of heat rushing through him so quickly it almost left him lightheaded.

“Like… this? Standing?”

You glanced back at him over your shoulder. “Exactly like this.”

He could barely think straight. His hands moved on their own, one sliding over your hips, gripping you firmly, while the other fumbled with his waistband, desperately tugging his pants down. The fabric slid down over his thighs, and he bit back a groan as his cock sprang free, hard and aching, pressing against the bare skin of your ass.

He could feel the heat of you against him, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep himself from sinking into you all at once. He pressed in closer, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse echoing in the ache between you both as the tip of his cock settled right where your folds parted. He rocked his hips in shallow motions.

“Baby…” You tilted your hips just enough to align with him, “no teasing."

But hearing those words only made him want to draw it out even more. He let his bulging head nudge at your hole, barely dipping in before pulling back, feeling the way you instinctively pressed against him.

"Spe—" you faltered, then groaned. "Stop it."

He couldn’t help but smile as his fingers found the straps of your garter belt. He tugged on one gently, watching the elastic snap back against your skin. "But you look so pretty."

"I'll look prettier with your cock inside me."

That did it. With one last shaky exhale, Spencer gripped your hips firmly and began to sink himself into you, feeling the tight, warm stretch of your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. He felt a slight resistance as your body adjusted to him. He carefully gave a few gentle thrusts, easing in and out just enough for you to relax.

Looking4Sluts: fuck yes JadenCums: she's so fucking tight PeachyKeen420: look at him stretching her PussyFiend69: just watching this is gonna make me cum HotForTits: Fuck her harder dude she wants it

His eyes flickered to that last comment, and something inside him shifted, like a switch flipping. Without another thought, without any lingering trace of hesitation, he tightened his grip on your hips and pushed in all at once.

Your moan tore through the air. So. Fucking. Loud.

HotForTits sent you a $300 gift

The notification flashed across the screen, but Spencer barely registered it, his control was slipping further away as his hips moved on their own. He started to grind into you, eyes traveling to your connected bodies. You were practically swallowing his cock, clenching so tightly around him that he felt like you were pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go.

In a way, you did beg for it. Each time you met his thrusts with an eager roll of your hips, the sound of skin slapping together echoed around you. He would have thought he’d be shy doing this in front of so many watchful eyes, but the way you moved against him made it impossible to care.

It only made him bolder. He let his hand slide up your back, fingers fumbling slightly with the clasp of your bra before he unhooked it. The straps slipped down your shoulders, sliding down your arms, and then you were completely, utterly naked, except for the garter hugging your thighs.

You were so pretty like this, so incredibly beautiful it made his pulse stutter in his veins. You were so pretty that it was almost disorienting, as if looking at you too long might make him forget where he was. And in his mind, all the lofty notions of beauty and art seemed to fall flat compared to seeing you like this. He needed to see all of you.

A startled whimper left your lips when he suddenly pulled out.

“Can you angle the camera down?"

There was a knowing look in your eyes. Your fingers moved to adjust the tripod, and he wasted no time stripping himself. By the time you were done angling the camera, he was already sitting on the edge of your bed, his cock throbbing against his stomach.

He looked painfully hard. Hard enough that every heartbeat seemed to pulse visibly along his length. You crawled onto his lap.

“Hi.”

His palm found the curve of your hip. "Hi."

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, his fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he urged you to lift your hips. “I think I’m starting to understand why you do this.”

“Yeah?”

"Mhm.” He nudged his tip between your folds. “It’s kind of exciting.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, fingers curling into his shoulder for balance as you began to lower yourself. “See? Nothing to be nervous about.”

A deep groan escaped his lips the moment your walls tightened around him. “You make this seem easy.”

“Maybe you’re just a natural.”

He gave a low chuckle, but it caught in his throat when he felt the full length of his cock buried inside you. “I… ah… I think you’re the one making me look good.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a grin, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You don’t need any help looking good right now, trust me.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that. He’d never seen himself like this, not in the way you did. But when he glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the screen and the way your hips rolled over him, he started to believe it.

He looked like… well, like the porn he’d watched late at night in his room before you came along. But better. The kind that didn’t seem real, the kind that made him question if anyone actually had sex like that. He knew the vast majority of what’s portrayed in porn is exaggerated with only a small percentage even close to reality. Except this was real. It was really him, and you made it look like he knew what he was doing.

And sure, maybe he did in some way, albeit you being his only real experience. But that was the thing—he knew what made you tick. He could read the way your body reacted, knew the subtle cues that signaled when a whisper of his fingers could coax out a whimper or when the right shift of his hips would leave you trembling. And more than anything else, he knew how much you liked being watched.

He knew just how much it turned you on.

With that thought in mind, Spencer grabbed the firm swell of your ass and spread you open.

JadenCums: fuck yes FatCock69: she’s so wet BigdickXX: damn, I wish I could feel that pussy ILovePinkPrincess: spread her wider TommyGoode sent you a $200 giftDaddyDom92 sent you a $300 gift.

Your body squirmed beneath his hands.

“Babe… what are you doing?”

He ran his tongue over his lips. “Giving them what they want.”

Then he spread your flesh even further, fingers digging into your supple skin as he held you open. The sight was undeniably lewd, and yet he couldn’t deny the surge of pride swelling in his chest as he held you like this, putting you on full display. But more than that, it was what you wanted. The tension coiled in his muscles as he thrust his hips up, watching the movement play out in the reflection over his shoulder.

He could see everything. The slow drag of his cock, the way it stretched you open with each push, leaving no inch of you untouched. Every time he thrust up into you, his length came back slick and shining, catching the light for a split second before disappearing inside you again.

There was something hypnotic in the rhythm, in the way your body seemed to swallow him whole. And somewhere in that steady push and pull, you visibly clenched around him, a vice-like grip that sent a shudder through his body and pulled a deep, harsh groan from his throat.

His hands tightened their grip on you, and before he could think twice, his hips began moving faster. You squealed, an actual high-pitched sound that he hadn’t expected. It was almost cute in a way—if cute was even the right word for what was happening. But there was nothing cute about the way his body reacted to that sound.

His hips bucked upward, again and again by an instinct he couldn’t control. He was so lost in the sensation of your warm, slick pussy that he barely registered the rising tension in his own body. It wasn’t until his muscles locked up, his hips jerking with one final, forceful snap, that it all crashed over him.

Oh shit.

A sudden rush of heat coursed through him as he spilled inside you, the realization hitting him a second too late. His breath came in shallow gasps, a deep groan escaping his throat as pleasure overwhelmed him, leaving him stunned and gasping for air.

You paused, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his release slowly seep inside you. “Baby?”

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, sliding his hands up your waist. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—that was—”

Fast didn’t even come close to describing what happened.

You cut him off with a soft laugh, shaking your head as your fingers gently cupped his jaw. “Oh, honey,” you cooed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

His eyes flickered to the camera behind you. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

You followed his gaze, then turned back to him with a smile. “Of course not,” you said softly, threading your fingers through his hair. “You kind of made everything better, actually.”

His brows knitted together. “I did?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Do you know…”

You started to roll your hips again.

“How hot it is…”

A soft squelch filled the air.

“To fuck with your cum inside me?”

He could barely comprehend the words that had just left your mouth, let alone the feeling of you moving against him. His eyelids struggled to stay open, the question catching in his throat before it spilled out in a breathy whisper. “Hot?”

“Insanely hot.”

Spencer couldn’t describe what happened after that. Obscene didn’t even begin to cover it. Surreal, maybe? But even that word felt lacking. It was all too real. You were rocking your hips on his lap, and the wet, sticky sounds filling the room were undeniably his own doing.

He held your hips tighter, half in an effort to steady himself, half because he didn’t know what else to do. The words were gone. Logic was gone. The only thing that existed was you, grinding against him with the same intensity that had already undone him once.

And he knew he was going to lose it again.

You leaned forward, your forehead pressing gently against his. “Spence, baby,” you whispered, making sure your voice was soft, just loud enough that only he could hear. “Can you fuck me again?”

He couldn’t say no even if he tried. His hands slipped beneath your thighs, fingers curling with just enough force to lift you, tilting your hips for better leverage. The shift pulled a startled gasp from you and you clung to him for balance, but he didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. His hips met yours in a swift, demanding snap.

The sound of your body meeting was unmistakable, a rhythmic slap that would’ve made him blush if he were in any state to think clearly. But right now, all he could focus on was the mess he’d made of you, the way his cum seeped out, sliding down his cock in slow drips. Whenever he thrust into you, there seemed to be more spilling out, leaving thick, creamy streaks painted across your inner thighs.

Spencer had messy sex before (all with you, of course) but this was on a whole different level. It was chaotic—unapologetically filthy. The wetness between you spread everywhere. He could feel it pooling against his thighs, trickling down your legs, and the damp sheets beneath you were clinging uncomfortably to his knees while the heady scent of sex hit his nostrils.

And your voice wasn’t helping his self-control. It was high-pitched with a tremor, somewhere between a moan and a desperate whine tumbling out in a jumble of words that barely made any sense. Your voice grew higher each minute, more frantic, until finally, he could make out a few clear words through the haze.

“Gonna c-cum,” you moaned, “I’m gonna cu—ah fuck yesyesyes—”

A final, helpless cry pushed him over the edge.

He came for the second time tonight. He tried to hold back, but the way you were clenching around him, your body pulsing through your sudden orgasm tore down what little control he had left. He groaned, burying his face in your neck as his release overtook him again, shocked that he still had anything left to give as he emptied inside you.

The intensity bordered on painful. He could feel his body pushing to its limits and every pulse of pleasure felt like it was wringing him dry. And it was no less intense for you. You jerked against him, body twitching, sweat beading on your skin. Your muscles tightened and relaxed with the rhythm of his racing heartbeat as the last spark of pleasure finally washed over you.

Neither of you moved for a while after that. The only sound in the room was your labored breathing, the heavy rise and fall of your chests pressed together.

You were the first to break the silence.

“Baby,” you hummed, a soft, breathless laugh escaping your lips, “I think that might’ve been the hottest stream we’ve ever done.”

It took a second for your words to sink in, and when they did, his eyes widened slightly. The camera was still on. The audience was still there. His nose pressed harder against your neck as he tried to hide in embarrassment.

“Really? You’re getting shy now?“

His soft groan vibrated against your skin. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about the camera,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your neck. “It left my mind the moment I… you know.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Oh, I know. I could tell.”

You started to peel yourself off of him, only for his arms to tighten around your waist. You gave a playful tap on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding you.”

“Why?”

“My brain needs a moment to process this.”

Your hand danced aimlessly across his back. “Still embarrassed?”

“Mortified,” he confirmed.

A giggle slipped out of you, and you wiggled your hips. “We still need to clean up. I don’t think you want to stay like this forever.”

He let out a sound of protest but didn’t loosen his grip. “Just a few more minutes.”

Smiling at his stubbornness, you slid your fingers into his hair, letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. "Spencer," you said gently, making sure the mic didn't pick up your voice. “I need to turn off the cam.”

"They wouldn't mind watching us a little longer."

You sighed, feeling the undeniable stickiness between your thighs. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling, and the warmth was quickly turning into a mess that would need attention sooner rather than later. But there was something so sweet about the way he wanted to hold you that it made it impossible to resist.

"Fine," you relented with a quiet laugh, "five more minutes."

[pretentious-blonde]

insecurity

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after you become closer to a certain metalhead, steve can't stop the insecurities that stem from his previous relationship. when it all becomes too much, you are left to deal with his outrage.

warnings: arguments, angst, steve is mean, panic attack (fluff ending ofc)

a/n: idk, this was supposed to be short and sweet but i got carried away!

The bell above you jingled as you entered Family Video, stopping briefly to glance around the shop for a certain brown-haired boy who had managed to capture your heart a little over six months ago. It didn’t take long to spot him, a grin plastered on his face as he stood behind the counter. With crossed arms, leaning his hip against the wooden edge, nodding along half-heartedly to whatever Robin was saying. She sat cross-legged on the desk, arms moving wildly as she spoke, her face lighting up as she noticed your presence. 

“There she is! Finally, I can’t tolerate this man for much longer,” she says with a huff, kicking her feet off the counter and pointing at Steve who was clearly not as into the conversation as she was. His attention hasn’t strayed from you since you came in. “Your turn.”

“Lucky for you,” he begins, briefly glancing in Robin’s direction, pointing back towards her as you rounded the corner to emphasise his point. “She tolerates me for hours.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as you leaned into him, whispering a hello before smirking in Robin’s direction. “I’d say it’s more than tolerating,” you add.

Steve has a smug look on his face at your comment, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. You can feel the warmth he radiates through his jumper, his fingers finding your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. 

The moment between you both was swiftly interrupted by a loud gagging noise. “Okay. I’m third-wheeling. Gross.” Robin stated as she hopped off her makeshift throne with a huff.

You roll your eyes, still trapped in Steve’s embrace, not ready to let go just yet. “You sure you’re not just jealous Rob?”

“Pssh,” she scoffs as she throws a VHS tape from one hand to the other. “Sure. If I wanted someone who can’t alphabetise for shit, then yes. I’d be all over Harrington.”

“Ouch,” Steve pipes up from your side. “Also I don’t want to hear anything from you after what you did to the returns bin. It’s chaos.”

“Organised chaos, maybe,” she replies as she points the VHS directly at Steve. “My system is far superior.”

You glance over at your boyfriend, a look of disbelief at her previous statement, he was about to interrupt but Robin quickly changed the subject. “I thought you were supposed to come by here yesterday? Or was I making that up?”

“Oh, I was. But Dustin asked me last minute if I was free,” you tell her. “He introduced to to his friend—Eddie? I think he mentioned him before. We all hung out for a bit.”

The words slip out of your mouth naturally and a small smile graces your lips as you remember the day before. What you don’t notice is the way Steve stiffens beside you. His hand, which was fitted perfectly against your shoulder, tensed slightly. Unbeknownst to you. 

“Eddie?” He asks, forcing his voice to stay light and cheerful. He wouldn’t dream of dampening your bright mood. Not when you had gone out of your way to drop by and see him. Although, that fact did nothing to stop the unsettling feeling in his stomach. 

You nod enthusiastically as he pays you his full attention, admiring the way your hair bounces along with your movements. It briefly distracts him from overthinking, that is, until you open your pretty mouth again. “Yeah, you know Dustin—he’s always finding new people to drag into his D&D world. Eddie’s super into it, too.”

His jaw tightens, his smile falters and he hopes to god you don’t notice, masking it with a casual nod. Eddie Munson, he thinks and cannot help the bitterness he feels. Of course, he remembers the metal head from high school, Dustin had been mentioning him more too. He never cared about popularity, the social hierarchy. Just… did his own thing. No matter what others thought of him. 

Steve was all Ralph Lauren polos and Members Only jackets, tender smiles and sickly sweet kisses. Eddie was band patches and ripped jeans, unapologetic and confident. Not like Steve at all. The total opposite in fact.

He glances at you in the corner of his eye, then quickly back to the counter, the knot in his chest growing tighter. He knew, he knew, he was reading too much into it, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Especially after Nancy broke his heart. It was only when he met you that it began to heal again. 

Is that what you’re into? The carefree, rebellious type? While Steve has spent his entire high school career trying to fit the mold, Eddie has smashed it. And what did he have to show for it? A washed-up ex-popular kid working at a video store? Not a lot, clearly.

“So… what did you guys get up to?” He asks, fiddling with the pen on the desk, trying to act as indifferent as possible. 

“Not much. Just hung out, talked about D&D for a bit,” you reply with a shrug. “Dustin thinks he is some kind of genius when it comes to that game.”

Robin chimes into the conversation, unaware of the tension radiating from the brunette next to you. “Well, if you’re into D&D Eddie is the go-to around here,” she tells you. “It sounds like you’re his next recruit.”

Steve’s laugh is forced this time, and you notice it, a small frown appearing on your face. He curses himself internally, quickly leaning over to place a kiss on the side of your head, a reassuring gesture for the both of you. “Sounds fun,” he says softly. “Maybe next time I could tag along.”

Just so he can see what Eddie’s intentions are, see if he is testing his luck with you. He has already lost one girlfriend to another guy so it seemed like a normal thing to investigate. Nothing weird about that… right?

You laugh and shake your head, patting his broad chest playfully. “Trust me, Steve, you don’t have to do that. D&D is certainly not your thing.”

He deflated at your statement, even though it was definitely true. He lets out a chuckle to ease the insecurity he is feeling. “Yeah, I’ll leave the nerd stuff to Dustin and Eddie,” he says, trying to play it off as nothing serious. 

You see the sad look that penetrates his features, mistaking it for him just feeling left out. You grab his hand and give it a small squeeze. “Am I still alright to come over to your tomorrow? Evening sound good?” You ask, hoping he could see how much you still wanted to spend time with him, despite your new friend.

“Of course, angel,” he replies, completely melting at the soft tone of your voice, looking up at him with those gentle eyes of yours. You could probably make him do anything with that expression on your face. He can’t resist stealing another kiss from you when you look like that. You smile up at him as he reluctantly pulls away. 

“Okay, great!” You wave as you make your way to the door, bell ringing as you open it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watches you leave until you are no longer visible, the tightness in his stomach easing ever so slightly at the thought of having you all to himself tomorrow. Just him. His girl. 

As soon as he turns around, Robin is smirking directly at him, arms crossed across her chest. “So, what’s the deal with Eddie?” She asks, her tone teasing. “You gonna join Hellfire now?”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, already dreading the incoming round of quips. “Hell no, I’m not touching that stuff.”

“Aw, c’mon Steve. I think you would make a great dungeon master,” she doesn’t even bother trying to hide the laugh that is bubbling in her throat. “You certainly are dramatic enough for it, you know? ‘King Steve’ and all that.”

“Yeah right,” he mutters, growing more irritated by the second. He usually had all the time in the world for her jabs, but currently? The tapes in his hands were the most interesting thing in the world to him as he tried to brush her off. “I’m retired from the whole ‘king’ thing, remember?”

She grins as she leans across the wooden counter, standing on her tiptoes to get closer to him. “True, true. But at least we know Eddie is pretty chill now, we don’t just have to take Dustin’s word for it.”

There it is, that name again—Eddie. He says nothing as he grabs more tapes off the side. Not that it served any purpose, just anything to keep his hands busy and mind preoccupied. 

“I mean, I have never really spoken to him,” she continued as she paced the shop floor, stopping only to place another VHS in her ‘newly organised’ returns section. “But he’s got that whole ‘rebel without a cause’ thing going on. You know? It’s pretty admirable.”

Yeah, I know, Steve thinks sourly. That’s precisely the problem. He does know. The free spirit who never once cared about fitting in, or pleasing anyone, and now here he was—Dustin’s new best friend and the subsequent new guy in your life. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve forces out another fake laugh, just as badly hidden as the first. “Good for him.”

Robin turns to face him directly, noticing the strain in his voice. “You’re not… jealous, are you?”

Her question catches him off guard, fumbling with the tape in his hand and nearly dropping it. “What? No. Why would I be jealous of Eddie Munson?”

“Alright, alright, no need to get defensive,” she holds her hands up in surrender, her eyes still trained on him. “It’s just… I don’t know. You’re acting weird?”

He didn’t respond right away, focusing on a blank point between two VHS tapes in front of him, he repeated the question in his mind. Weird? He wasn’t being weird. Was he?

Shrugging his shoulders casually, he glances at the clock, suddenly wishing for the small arms to go faster so he could see you again—just the two of you. No Eddie. No distractions. Just you and him alone. Maybe then he could stop himself from spiralling. He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind for the rest of his shift, not when he had seen this story play out once before, with him ending up on the losing side. 

Laughter filled the cramped space of Eddie’s trailer. Dustin had invited you over here a few hours earlier and now here you were, doubled over on his couch, clutching at your sides as Eddie continues his ridiculous story. “And then—then he turned around and slammed right into the closet door! Swear to God, I thought he was gonna be out cold!” He finished, completely in stitches at his own tale. 

Dustin was practically rolling on the floor at this point, teeth on full show as he tried to get his words out cohesively. “How did you find these people, Eddie?!” He gasped between his giggles. 

You were wiping away the tears from your eyes, way past the point of caring if your makeup was smudged. As you came back to reality, you glanced over at the clock, freezing completely as you registered the time. 

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, your stomach dropping. “Guys, I gotta go. Like—like right now.”

You immediately leapt up off the worn-out couch, grabbing your jacket in a hurry and shoving your feet into your shoes. You had about ten minutes to be at Steve’s front door and had completely lost track of the time. “He’s gonna kill me,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached for your bag. Even though it wasn’t true, it was more likely he would be moping around the living room, glancing at the front door every couple of minutes awaiting your arrival. Just sad that he couldn’t get to spend more time with you. Steve didn’t get angry with you. Ever. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his form still draped across the couch. “What’s the rush princess? Hot date with Steve?”

You briefly glanced over in his direction, looking increasingly flustered. “Well, yeah,” you admitted. “I was supposed to be there, uh, now.”

Before you could bolt out the door, you heard a groan coming from across the room. “Don’t sweat it, I’ll drive you.” Eddie rose from his seat and grabbed his keys from the coffee table in front of him, twirling them around his finger. “No way I’m letting you bike all the way there.”

You blinked in surprise at his offer. “Really? Are you sure? You honestly don’t have to—“

Eddie waved his hand in your direction, ignoring your concern. “It’s no problem. Besides, I’m not gonna be responsible for you showing up at Steve’s all sweaty and out of breath. The guy would kill me,” He shot a teasing grin in your direction as he headed to the door, holding it open as both you and Dustin ducked under his arm, heading straight for his van. 

The journey was easy, with Eddie being a surprisingly safe driver, music as loud as his personality. In between the heavy guitar riffs that thumped through the radio, he turned to you with a mischievous expression. “So… you and Steve, huh?”

You felt the blush rise to your cheeks at his comment, not getting a chance to respond as he continued. “I just meant you’re good together, you know? I never really saw him as the ‘settle down with a girlfriend’ type. But hey, they say love changes a person.”

You drew your gaze away from the passing trees, unable to hold the smile that had spread across your face. “Yeah, he’s—he’s really great,” you admitted softly. You could barely put into words how great he was without gushing, so that small line would have to do for now. If Eddie only saw how Steve treated you, both in public and private, all his questions would certainly be answered. 

Steve may not have had the same chaotic energy as Eddie or Dustin, but that didn’t matter one bit. Steve was… solid. Reliable. He made you feel safe. Made you feel cherished. 

The long-haired boy next to you shrugged, his tone still kind. “Hey, if Dustin likes him, well that’s saying something. The kid is picky when it comes to his friends.”

Dustin, now making his presence known from the back seat, spoke up. “Damn right!” 

As Eddie pulled up in front of the large house, he leaned over the centre controls, giving you a playful nudge. “Don’t keep him waiting any longer. I bet he is pacing a hole in the floor.”

You playfully glare at him as you pop the door open. “He’s not that bad.”

“Sure,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Well, tell him Dustin and I said hey.”

“Will do,” you replied as you hopped out of the van. You waved at the two of them as they began to drive away, heavy metal music blaring as they faded into the distance. Your smile from Eddie’s previous comment was still lingering on your lips as you bounded up to the front door, excitedly ringing the bell. 

What you didn’t see was Steve had witnessed the entire interaction from his window—your expression as you laughed with Eddie and Dustin, how you looked so at ease and comfortable around them. You hadn’t even known them for that long. The sight twisted something ugly up inside of him, insecurities that were larger than he knew. He didn’t know how to handle them, the thought of being left behind. 

The door swung open after a few moments, and there stood your Steve, leaning casually against the door frame as he looked you up and down. God, he was whipped. “Hey, there you are,” he said with that classic, easy, Steve smile, relief washing over him the second he laid eyes on you. 

You took a step forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist “Sorry I’m late.”

He chucked as he returned your embrace, sturdy arms enveloping you. “No worries, I’m always happy to wait.” 

The statement was true. Way too true, and that fact started to scare him.

You leaned up to press your lips against his, he was soft, familiar, and for a second, it felt like everything was perfect. He held the door open for you to step inside, the scent of his earthy cologne filled your senses. 

He followed you into the living room, watching you kick off your shoes, holding his arm out just in case you toppled over. He had made that mistake only once in the past, the bruise on your leg was huge. You’re clumsy nature may have been endearing, but he’ll be damned if you hurt yourself on his watch.  

“You didn’t ride your bike?” He asked, subtly trying to figure out exactly why you had gotten out of the familiar van. 

“I was lucky Eddie offered me a lift. I kind of lost track of time,” you said nonchalantly, kicking your shoes into the corner. 

His posture stiffened for the briefest moment at your confirmation. Honestly, he had hoped that what he saw five minutes earlier was just a figment of his imagination. “Oh, cool,” he forced himself to keep his tone light. “That was nice of him.”

You didn’t notice how fake the plastered smile on his face was as you settled onto the couch, already making yourself at home as you reached for the throw blanket. “So, what’s the plan for tonight hm? Movies? Snacks? Oh, did you order pizza?” You rambled, getting more excited with each question. It put his mind at ease a little bit to see you this giddy with excitement. If he let himself believe that he was the cause, maybe he could stop worrying. 

He beamed and moved to join you, resting his head against the pillows as he glanced down at your pure expression. “All of the above, sweetheart. But we are not repeating what you told me a few weeks ago that eating leftover pizza for breakfast was ‘nutritionally balanced’.”

You giggled as you unfurled the blanket, taking extra care to make sure he was fully covered. “It is balanced! Carbs, protein, maybe a vegetable if there’s a stray pepper.”

“Right,” Steve smirked as he drew out the word, trying to get on board with your reasoning. Reaching over for the remote to turn the movie on. 

As the credits for the cheesy rom-com rolled across the screen, you stretched your stiff body out.  You untucked yourself from his side, resulting in a frown from Steve, not quite ready to let you go yet. 

“I still don’t get why we always watch these,” you speak over the ending soundtrack. “All the girl ever does is swoon over the guy, ignoring all the red flags until it’s too late.”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch, placing his chin on top of it to give you his full attention. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his foot with your own. “Such a romantic.”

Steve blushes before turning away, giving you a casual shrug. “I just like them. Who knows, I could always start serenading you under your window, the whole nine yards.”

“Serenade, huh?” You chuckle, angling your head to lean against his arm. “Do you even know how to play an instrument?”

He drew his face towards you, scrunching his nose in your direction. “I can learn. Get some guitar lessons.”

Maybe you like guitar. Eddie plays the guitar. 

You giggle at the mental image of Steve strumming clumsily, tongue poking out in concentration, getting frustrated with the sheet music that would be scattered around him. “Oh, I’d pay to see that.”

He runs his hand through your hair, admiring your soft features illuminated by only the TV screen. “You wouldn’t have to pay. If you wanted it, I’d do it for free.”

He meant every word. If it kept you in his life, he would practise until his fingers bled. 

“Has anyone told you how much of a sap you are?” You ask, but it lacks its usual teasing. 

“Yeah, but I’m your sap,” he replies, words overflowing with tenderness. 

You look at him closely. Really look at him. His loving smile falters slightly under your gaze, eyes flickering downwards to hide his expression more. 

Shifting towards him, you lay a hand across his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart quicken at your touch. “What’s wrong?”

Steve blinks, another smile forced, not quite reaching his eyes. God, why did you have to ask it like that? In a sweet tone, filled with concern. He thought he was good at lying. All those secret parties he held in his parent’s absence, brushing off their questions about various missing decorations that most likely had been broken. Nobody noticed when his heart was broken a few years back. When he could hardly drag himself to work. But somehow, you could pick him apart easily. 

“Nothing,” he lies, trying to brush you off. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?”

He sighs, his fingers tracing an aimless pattern on your shoulder as he avoids looking at you. “Just…us, I guess. Wondering if I’m actually good at this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing or if you’re just humouring me.”

The confession made him feel exposed. He regretted saying anything at all. 

You frown at his admission, “What? Why would you think that?” You can’t hide the shock from your voice. This is the same boy who kept your favourite tea stocked in his cupboard, the same boy who built your entire bookcase when you mentioned you were struggling with the instructions, the same boy who even phoned the doctor’s office for you when you were too scared to talk to the receptionist.  

He ticked every box and more, your heart broke for how he felt. 

“I don’t know…Sometimes I wonder if I’m gonna screw this up. Like, if I’m just temporary.” His eyes are still glued to his lap, unable to look away. If only he didn’t have this much baggage. 

You furrow your brows, reaching up to cup his cheek, tilting his head so he’s forced to meet your eyes. “Steve, you’re not temporary. Okay? You’re not some placeholder to me.”

He leans into your touch, his hand covering yours for a moment. But even though he smiles softly at your words, the doubt still lingers in his eyes.

“I guess we’ll see,” he murmurs, the vulnerability heavy in his voice.

You sigh, realising this is a result of something more going on, but you still give him a gentle look. You have no problem reassuring him. You could tell him one hundred times how cherished he is without complaint. As many times as it took to make the message stick. If that’s what it took, you would gladly do it. 

Steve was buzzing as soon as he got off the phone with Kieth. His presence at the video store was not required today, and he had been planning how to surprise you all morning. Acting as giddy as a high schooler. He hadn’t had the chance to see you since you last hung out at his place and he really wanted to do something sweet. Not out of the lingering insecurity he was feeling, but he wanted to see you happy. Especially when it was because of him. 

He tried to go the extra mile today, waking up early and driving to the nice florist on the other side of town, just to make sure he got the freshest flowers. A little effort from him means a big smile from you—totally worth it in his book. The bouquet was huge, it sat in your usual place, in the passenger seat. He specifically chose your favourite colour as the wrapping paper, and the bow that secured it too. Smiling to himself as he pictured your reaction. 

Climbing the steps to your little apartment, something you were so excited to finally be able to afford with your job, his heart beat with anticipation. He easily fished out the spare key you had given him, smiling as the tiny keychain dangled from it—a tiny VHS tape you had been so proud to find at the flea market, insisting on putting it on yourself because it ‘needed some flair’. It was a thoughtful gesture, it made him feel warm whenever he saw it. 

Holding his breath to not make any noise, he unlocked your door and gently pushed it open, careful not to startle you. His eyes immediately landed on the couch—and his whole world froze. 

There, sprawled out on the couch, was none other than Eddie Munson. Looking the same as he always did, completely relaxed In his worn Metalica t-shirt and scuffed trainers. 

The worst part wasn’t just him. It was you. Your head resting in his lap, and Eddie was absently playing with a strand of your hair. He glanced up at Steve’s entrance and immediately put a finger to his lips, signalling Steve to stay quiet. His blood boiled at the gesture. 

“Shh,” Eddie whispered, gesturing to you. “She’s asleep.”

He was glued to the spot. What the fuck is he doing here?

Eddie carefully lifted your head off his legs, swapping himself out for a pillow, taking extra care not to rouse you. 

“Hey, man,” he greeted casually as he stood, stretching out his arms like this wasn’t the single most infuriating sight Steve had ever seen. “We were just hanging out, watching some trash TV. She was out like a light.”

His voice was still a whisper as he explained what happened, trying to add some humour to the situation. “Probably for the best, I mean. I can watch crappy shit all day, but even this was painful to sit through. No big deal.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. Hard. His grip on the flowers tightened until he could feel a few give way under the pressure. No big deal? You’ve got to be kidding me. He felt a surge of possessiveness course through him, igniting an anger he believed was dormant. His mind began to race, everything he had been trying to ignore had bubbled straight back up to the surface like a ticking time bomb. She is that comfortable to fall asleep on him?!

Eddie, completely oblivious to Steve’s thinly veiled fury, patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry, but I gotta be heading myself. Wayne’ll be wondering where I’ve been.” He said, giving him a small smile as if this was a totally normal situation for the two of you. “Take care, man.” With that, Eddie slipped past him, closing the door silently as he exited. 

The apartment felt eerily quiet as Steve just stood there, staring at the door, trying to wrap his head around what the hell just happened. Unbelievable. He rediverted his attention back to you, still soundly asleep on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside of him. He crossed the room slowly, as if on autopilot, mind a nasty mix of anger and jealousy. You fell asleep on Eddie. Eddie, of all people. How long were you two just... sitting there like that?

He took a seat in the armchair opposite, memories of the two of you trying to squeeze onto it now bitterly replaying in his mind. The flowers were still clutched in his hand, forgotten in his flood of emotions.

He didn’t want to acknowledge what he had just walked in on. His heart beat painfully in his chest. This is how it starts, right? He thought bitterly. Starts all innocent like this. I’ve seen this before. I’ve lived this before. His mind flashed back to that goddamn Halloween party, to the nights he thought things were fine, only to realise too late that he had been left behind—again.

Steve exhaled sharply, frustration gnawing at him. It’s happening. It’s fucking happening again. He was always second best. His parents, Nancy, Dustin, you. 

He glanced down at the flowers in his hand, the stems crushed from his tense grip. They were supposed to be part of a sweet surprise, a way to make you smile, but now... now they just felt like a cruel joke. With him being the punchline. As per usual.

He set them down on the coffee table and leaned backwards, his gaze locked on your peaceful sleeping form, his mind a mess. His foot tapped impatiently against the floor. He was fuming—so mad he could barely think straight.

The room was in complete silence as you began to stir awake, reaching your arms above your head lazily. You blinked a few times as you returned to reality, the soft haze of sleep still lingering. You heard your back pop and you groaned at the sensation, falling asleep on the couch had been a terrible idea. 

You let out a brief yawn and look around for Eddie, but instead, your eyes land on your boyfriend. He sat across from you, arms crossed tensely, his expression neutral. He wasn’t smiling, which was odd for him. In fact, he looked angry. 

“When did you get here?” Your forehead crinkled in confusion, voice still raspy with sleep as you asked. “Where did Eddie go?”

Steve shifted in the chair, leaning back and spreading his legs further apart. “Eddie left a while ago,” he snapped, his tone was sharp and clipped. “I got the day off work.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” your brain still trying to piece the information together. “You should have called.”

He scoffed as he shook his head, a lock of brown hair escaping to rest against his forehead. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t aware you had other plans.”

You sat up straighter on the couch, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach. His tone—he never spoke to you like that. It sounded frustrated, irritated. Like you had done something wrong. You wracked your brain trying to think of anything that would have upset him, eventually coming up short. Eddie’s presence here didn’t even pass through your mind, there is no way Steve would be that possessive. Could he?

“Steve…what’s wrong?” You asked cautiously, concern creeping into your voice. “Why are you mad?”

His brown eyes darkened, his face twisting with an expression you had never seen before. All the insecurity he had been feeling, all the unresolved emotions, came crashing to the surface in a wave of anger. It was frightening. He was frightening you. 

“You wanna know what’s wrong?” He barked out a laugh, one that was filled with no humour. “I come over here, thinking I’m gonna surprise my girlfriend. But instead? I find her asleep on the town freak.”

Your heart sank. He spat the words out as if they tasted vile on his tongue. You never knew that he could be this vicious, the foul name that just spewed from his lips made your throat tighten. “Steve, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice bitter as he continued. “You think I’m stupid? Like I don’t see what’s going on here? You and Eddie. He’s always around, and suddenly, you’re all buddy-buddy with him, falling asleep on his lap like it’s no big deal. I mean—Jesus, sweetheart—how dense do you think I am?”

“Steve, it wasn’t like that,” your voice broke as you struggled to speak. The nickname that had always been filled with such love was now venomous, you struggled to understand what was happening. Why he wasn’t listening? Why wasn’t he trusting you?

“We were just hanging out, watching TV—“

“Oh yeah? Just watching TV? Sure,” Steve spat, getting up to start pacing, the adrenaline coursing through his body was too much. His mind was racing, old memories resurfacing, ones that he would rather not think about only helped fuel his rage. He turned back to you, eyes wild with fury.

“Moved on pretty quick, huh?” He ran a hand over his face, voice dripping with resentment. “I mean, I gotta hand it to you, honey. But you could have tried a little harder before the secret spilt out eventually.”

Tears formed in your waterline as you tried your best not to let them fall. “How could you say that?” You took in a shaky breath. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Oh, don’t do that,” he pointed a finger at you. “Don’t act all innocent here. I’ve seen this shit before, okay? Little things that aren’t that little. Don’t play dumb, it’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not!” You protested, not caring about the tears that now flowed freely down your cheeks. “I love you, Steve. Please. Eddie is just a friend.”

He rolled his eyes, your pleading falling on deaf ears. “Yeah, ‘just a friend’,” he muttered hostilely. “Sure.”

His words cut deep, and you felt yourself crumble under the weight of them. You began to panic as you realised there was no way out of this. Not when he was so dead set on believing what he wanted. You could only stare back at him in disbelief, heart breaking at how trivial this argument is. 

“I thought you left this high school crap behind you,” you whispered, scared and unsure of how he would react. 

“Yeah, well, some things never change.” He shot back, his tongue still as fast as it had been back then. He mentioned how he was in school a few times in the past, but now you could really see it. The petty boy who would say anything in the heat of the moment. The boy who could pick the thing that would hurt the most. 

The room fell into a heavy silence, staring at one another, the distance between you growing more and more with each passing second. You could barely recognise the man standing only a few feet away. You wanted to reach out to him, plead with him to just stop. Go back to being Steve. Your Steve. 

“I can’t believe what you’re saying,” you managed to choke out, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your jumper. “You’re hurting me.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, a brief flash of guilt flickered across his face at the sight of your tears. His beautiful girl was torn apart by what he was insinuating. But he was too far gone. His misplaced anger was the only thing he could feel right now, pushing him further. “Yeah well, now you know how that feels.”

A sob wracked through your body, his statement feeling like a dagger to your chest. He made his way towards the door to leave, his gaze landed on the stack of VHS tapes by the TV. He knew he should walk away, but a petty bitterness surged through him. He could never resist getting one final jab in. 

“Make sure you return those by the weekend. Late fees now apply, sweetheart.” He sneered, lips turning into a snarl. 

With that, he tossed the flowers he’d brought for you onto the table, the delicate petals now scattered across it. You stared at them, your vision blurred by your tears as Steve stormed out of your apartment. He slammed the door sharply as he left, making you flinch. 

As soon as he was gone, you collapsed onto the couch, finally allowing yourself to cry uncontrollably. You didn’t understand how everything had spiralled so fast. How the man who was so sweet, so kind, had turned into this.

On the other side of the door, Steve’s heart was racing, pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He leaned against the wall for a moment and shut his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control as the rage he felt dissipated. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty, not over this. He didn’t jump to conclusions, not when the signs were so clear to him. 

He stumbled down the stairs and got into his car, foot pressing down hard on the accelerator as he drove away. Each mile felt heavier than the last. He couldn’t allow himself to question what he had said, besides, it was too late to take it all back now. What he couldn’t answer was why he felt so much more empty as he pulled up to his house. Alone. 

Steve pushed open the door to Family Video, the small bell above him chiming as he trudged inside. It felt like it was mocking him, only adding to his sour mood. He was fifteen minutes late, something that never went unnoticed by Robin.

His eyes looked and felt drained, dark circles framing his eyes from his obvious lack of sleep. The night before had been hell. All he had done was toss and turn, replaying the argument with you over and over again in his head until he was sick of it. His chest ached from all the emotions that were still swirling inside of him. Anger, sadness, and a terrifying amount of regret that he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

Robin was at the counter, tapping away at the computer when she saw him walk in. Her face lit up, clearly excited to spill something. “There you are! You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you. I saw Vicky at the movies yesterday and—“

“Rob, I’m really not in the mood today.” He interrupted her, rubbing a hand over his brows. 

The girl froze, her face contorting with confusion. Usually, Steve lived for gossip like this. In fact, he almost always begged for it.

“Wait…what? You were off yesterday. Shouldn’t you be, like, all refreshed or something? What, did you party too hard without me?”

He shot her a glare, making it crystal clear that something was wrong. Of course, being ever curious, Robin was not going to let this slide. 

“Oh, no. Spill it, Harrington.” She began, leaving the computer to follow his quick steps. “You come in late, looking like shit, and now you’re all moody? Did something happen yesterday?”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his messy hair he hadn’t even bothered to brush. Not willing to humour her at all today. “Robin, please—”

“Please what? I’m not gonna stop asking. C’mon, let it out. I’m all ears. I’ll even sit down for this one.” She says dramatically as she hops up onto the counter, crossing her legs, glancing at him expectantly as if she had all the time in the world. 

Steve groaned loudly. “Fine, fine. You want to know what happened?” He said, exasperated.  “I walked in yesterday, excited to surprise my girl, and guess what I saw? Eddie. Like, she had her head in his lap and everything. They were all over each other. It was disgusting.”

Robin scrunched her eyebrows as she processed his words. “Eddie? The Eddie Munson?” She squinted, looking even more confused. “Are we talking about the same Eddie here? The one who’s completely obsessed with Chrissy Cunningham? I mean, he’s had it bad for her for years. That Eddie?”

“What? Chrissy?” Steve frowned, pausing as her words sank in. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin tilted her head at him like he was an idiot. Which she would say was most of the time. “Uh, yeah? He’s been pining after her for, like, ever. He never had the guts to ask her out. Everyone knows that.”

She carried on talking as if this was common knowledge, which maybe it was. The knowledge was just not that common to Steve, apparently. “So Eddie’s into your girl now? Are you sure about that?”

He felt his stomach drop, trying to ignore the rising panic in his chest. “I mean… yeah. Pretty sure? He was, like, touching her and they were—“ He stopped halfway through his sentence, doubt now taking over. 

Was that really all he saw? Surely not. He couldn’t have gotten so mad about just that, there had to be more. Only, nothing really came to mind. 

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Touching her, huh? And that exactly happened? No skipping details.”

Steve scratched the back of his head as he tried to recall the events from the evening prior, his anxiety continued to grow as he spoke. “I saw him drop her off at my place the other day. She got out of his van, and they looked all… close. Then, when I went to her apartment earlier, I walk in, and there she is, asleep across his lap.”

Robin took a second to process what he was saying, speaking slowly as she tried to wrap her head around the situation. “So… you’re mad because she fell asleep with him on the couch? While watching TV? That’s what you’re telling me?”

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, immediately getting defensive, trying to prove that he wasn’t just overreacting. “Well, yeah, but it’s the way she was with him. It was just too… cosy.”

She could not believe what she was hearing as she stared at the boy blankly. “Dude, we do that stuff all the time. Like, every movie night.”

Steve's stomach twisted. He felt sick. “Yeah, but…that’s different. This is—” He couldn’t continue. There was no solid ground for him to stand on. The knowledge of that was overwhelming. Fuck. 

Robin narrowed her eyes, still determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. “Okay, I still don’t get it. What did you do?”

He shifted uncomfortably at her questions, his guilt was building inside of him as the true terror set in. “I, uh… I may have been a complete asshole.”

Her eyes widened at the admission. “Define ‘complete asshole.’”

Steve’s hands shook as he brought them up to his forehead, slightly damp from his growing fear. “I called Eddie the ‘town freak’—fuck—and I—“ He paused and took a breath in, the consequences of his insecurities now coming into the light. “I told her we were over basically…she asked me to stop hurting her.”

Robin’s jaw dropped, feeling outraged at the way her best friend had acted. That was not something she could ever stand beside, no matter how close they were. “You what? Steve, that's fucking insane! I can’t believe you drove her to the point of even having to say that!”

The world seemed distorted as Steve became short of breath, he had to rest a hand on the counter to keep himself steady, the tight grip becoming painful. “I don’t know! I just—it all came out. I couldn’t stop myself—shit. What—what do I do?”

Robin started at him, completely stunned and equally irked. “Steve,” she said, the stern tone felt foreign on her tongue. “This is not just ‘I messed up a little’—you blew it, dude.”

He was breathing faster now, mouth barren, limbs turning slightly numb. The panic had now set in fully. “No, no, no. Don’t say that. I can fix it, right? I always fix it. I have to fix it, Robin. Please, help me fix it!” His voice increased as he got the words out, hands trembling in front of him. 

She looked at him, she was no less annoyed, but she couldn’t help but pity her friend. Especially when he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown like this. He was a wreck right now and needed someone. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you,” Steve sighed in relief, however, she wasn’t finished. “But I’m seriously not happy about any of this. If she doesn’t take you back, you have to deal with it, Steve. This is on you.”

Steve nodded frantically, hair flying everywhere as he clung to the small sliver of hope. “Anything. I’ll do anything. I can’t lose her, Robin. I just… I can’t”

She folded her arms, her face remaining stoic to show her displeasure with him. “Alright. We will think of something, and you better pray to God she hears you out. You have got a lot of sucking up to do Harrington.”

He muttered quiet a thank you, his heart not slowing down. He couldn’t afford to lose you, not over this, not because of his own self-doubt. Please, he thought to himself. Please for the love of God don’t let her leave me.

For ten long minutes, Steve had been standing outside your apartment, heart hammering in his chest as he stared at the shut door. Ten agonising minutes of him just waiting, stalling, trying to muster up the courage to raise his hand and just knock. He could have used the spare key that was burning a hole in his back pocket, but that wouldn’t be right. Not after what he did. He had to do this the right way if he had any chance of forgiveness. This wasn’t a situation that could be fixed with flowers or chocolates. He had spoken to Robin for the whole of yesterday, and they both agreed—he needed to own up to everything that transpired, to apologise, even if it was hard. Even if it was terrifying. 

Because losing you? That wasn’t an option. 

With a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against the solid wood. The second he made contact with the door, his stomach flipped. He wanted to run. To turn around and bolt. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He had too much to lose—you. The sweet, kind girl who had always made him feel seen, made him feel held. How could he walk away from that without trying? 

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open, the sight of you nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs. You’d been crying, that much was obvious. Your eyes were red, puffy, and filled with the hurt that he had caused. If that wasn’t enough to crush him, you were clad in one of his old hoodies—one he’d left at your place months ago. Seeing you wrapped up in something of his twisted the knife so deep that he nearly staggered back before he caught himself. 

You immediately moved to shut the door, not willing to let him hurt you more, but Steve panicked. “Please, please, angel don’t,” his voice cracked as he begged to be let in, his hand pushing lightly against the door, so desperate to keep it open. Desperate to not be shut out before he could even try to say sorry. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

You paused, removing your hand and gently taking a step away from the entrance. You crossed your arms as you looked at him, still visibly upset, your voice sharp but exhausted. The tone pulled at his chest. “You’ve got five minutes Steve. Then I want you out of here.”

He nodded eagerly, grateful for a chance, no matter how slim. “Of course, anything…I’ll take anything. Just…please.”

You let him in, both stepping further into the flat, his eyes immediately locked onto the sight of the coffee table. The flowers he picked up yesterday were still sitting there—petals scattered everywhere, beginning to dry up and wilt. 

You couldn’t bear to touch them after he tossed them there the day before, you had hardly left your bedroom due to their presence. A brutal reminder of what happened. He felt sick to his stomach with the knowledge of how badly he hurt you. How you couldn’t even deal with the ruined gift because they were tied to him. To the things he said. 

You fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie, now feeling embarrassed while wearing it, nervous as to what he could possibly say to make this right. If he even wanted to make it right. You honestly didn’t know. 

He turned to you, words catching in his throat as he tried to figure out where to even start with this. He had gone over this with Robin multiple times yesterday, but the sight of you completely threw him. 

“I—I’m sorry, angel,” he stammered, that was a good place to start, his voice as rough as he continued. “I’m so, so sorry. For everything. For not thinking. For not believing you. For… for making you cry. I didn’t mean to—I swear, I didn’t.”

You stood firm, arms not moving from their crossed position. You weren’t giving in easily, not this time. You had every single right to be upset. Steve has frightened you. He was mean and spiteful, lashing out at you instead of listening. His jealousy was ugly. 

He fumbled for more words, his hands beginning to shake. “I…I was an asshole, I hate that I hurt you. I just…I freaked out, okay? I thought—“ He stopped, swallowing thickly as his emotions threatened to choke him fully. “I thought I was going to lose you. Like…like I lost Nancy.”

Your expression shifted slightly, but you remained silent, allowing him to continue. 

His voice grew quieter, more pained. “Halloween, a few years back, Nancy told me I was just…bullshit. Jonathan swept in after that. And when I saw you with Eddie—fuck—I just—” He ran a hand through his brown hair, pulling harder at the ends as his frustration grew. “Eddie’s already got Dustin. He’s…he’s got everything. And I thought he’d take you too. And I just…I panicked. I know it’s stupid, okay? I was just—“

He was rambling now and he knew it, the words were tumbling out faster than he could stop them. He only had five minutes, he needed you to understand. To please understand him. 

“I was so fucking scared, honey. I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realise that I’m bullshit. That you’ll find someone better. Someone who isn’t…who isn’t me.” His voice cracked again at his attempt to hold back the tears that clouded his vision. 

You let out a small sigh, your expression wary. You couldn’t let your guard down, not yet at least. 

“Steve…what happened yesterday was not okay. You hurt me. A lot.”

“I know,” he said in a hushed tone, his voice barely louder than a breath. “I know I did, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I swear, I’ll be better. I’ll be so much better—if you’ll let me. You deserve everything, sweetheart. A-and I’ll give it to you, I promise. Just…please. Please let me prove that.”

Steve’s voice broke as the overwhelming dread overflowed, what had once been a gentle simmering below the surface now coursed through his entire body. No, he thought, It’s not working. It’s not fucking working.

His hands were quivering uncontrollably, his vision blurred as his thoughts spiralled. Everything was crashing down around him—the fear, the memories, the guilt. 

He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t lose you. Not you. 

“I—I can’t,” Steve stammered, his words short as they came out in small gasps. He backed up slightly, he didn’t know if he was scared of your presence or himself at this point. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I’m so—so fucking scared, I—“ 

His hands flew to his face in a weak attempt to hold himself together, his breath coming out in frantic bursts. His whole body shook involuntarily. Nancy, his parents, the same gut-wrenching feeling of being told he wasn’t enough. Wasn’t loved. That he was unimportant. Just temporary. 

You were stuck, rooted to where you stood, watching him unravel. And in that moment, you didn’t know what to do. The Steve you knew so well—the confident, charming, self-assured Steve—was crumbling before your eyes, his fear felt so raw, so overwhelming that it broke your heart to witness it. 

“Steve,” you say softly, moving towards him, but he couldn’t hear you. Not over his own mind. He was too far gone. 

“I can’t—fuck, I—“ His broad chest heaved as he tried to suck in air, but it seemed to do little to help. His hands shook violently, gripping at his tousled hair as he slid down to the floor, his back against the wall. “I’m gonna lose you, angel. I know it, and I can’t—I can’t do that again.”

“Steve,” you repeat, voice more forceful this time as you drop to your knees beside him. You reached out to him slowly, so as to not startle him, taking his unsteady hands in your own. “Breathe. Just…breathe with me, okay?”

He was trembling so much that it scared you, even more than he had yesterday. His breaths were coming out shallow and erratic, your heart ached to see him like this—so broken, so scared. 

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You kept your voice soft, soothing as you held onto him, your thumbs tracing small circles on his skin. You began to understand. “You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

The skin around his eyes was pulled taught as he squeezed them shut, he tried to follow your lead, match your breathing with his own, using it as a guide. “Just breathe, okay?” You repeated, you held your voice steady until his ragged breaths began to slow, becoming deeper and more even. 

It took a few minutes to get his trembling to ease, fingers still tracing gentle patterns, reminding him of your presence. His grip eventually loosened, but never wavered, he clung onto you like a lifeline. His head hung low as he tried to pull himself back together. 

You watched his chest as you knelt beside him, it rose and fell more calmly compared to a few moments ago. His large brown eyes flickered open as they focused on you. Red and glassy, filled with fear as he looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“I’m so so sorry,” he spoke in a muted tone, barely audible as he turned his attention to your intertwined hands. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I—I needed to hurt you before you hurt me.”

Your stomach was in knots at the sight of him so vulnerable. Posture hunched over as if he wanted to disappear into himself. It broke your heart to witness. You squeezed his hands gently as you leaned closer to him. 

“Steve, listen to me,” you tell him. His eyes lifted to meet yours, amber and swirling with uncertainty. “I’m not going anywhere. But you have to talk to me, okay? If something is bothering you. If you’re feeling scared, you have to tell me. You can’t just take it out on me. It’s not fair.”

He shook his head and sniffed, rubbing his hand roughly against his eyes, trying to brush away the tears. “I don’t want to push you away,” he muttered, voice no longer as shakey. He felt his mind settle as the words flowed out of his mouth more comfortably. 

“I just… I don’t know how to do this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I’ve never been good at… at the talking stuff.”

For the first time today, you allowed a smile to play on your lips as you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I kinda got that,” you tell him. “You don’t have to be perfect. I just need you to be able to come to me, talk to me. Get out of your head. I’m always here.”

You tapped his forehead twice for emphasis as he exhaled slowly. The tension in his body had finally been released as he slumped against the wall. He brought both of your hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, swallowing hard as he returned them to his lap. “Don’t deserve you, angel.”

Leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his own, closing your eyes as you speak. “You deserve someone who cares,” you tell him as you pull back, eyes shining with pure honesty which soothes his shot nerves. “And I do. So, just…trust me. Even if it's hard sometimes.”

“I do,” he said quickly. “I do. I’m sorry I didn’t, sweetheart. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, looking at him with the tenderness he never thought he would see again. “You don’t have to apologise anymore.”

He nodded once more, your forgiveness was finally sinking into him, pushing the last bit of panic out of his system. He opened his arms, asking you silently if it was alright to hold you once more. 

You shifted yourself between his legs, allowing his arms to pull you into a tight embrace, bringing you close as if you might disappear again. Slip through his fingers if he let you go. 

You rested your head against his chest, tucked up tightly as his chin rested on your hair. You could feel his heart beat at a more steady pace. You placed your palm over it. It belonged to you after all. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked as he held you against him, anchoring himself to you. 

“I know,” you respond, words slightly muffled by his jumper. “I love you too.”

You pull away slightly, meeting his eyes once more. The heaviness from the previous conversation had lifted, feeling relief flow through you as the warmth returned to Steve’s face. He wasn’t completely at ease, still very much shaken, but he could see a light at the end of the tunnel. The worst was behind him. And he promised it would only be up from here. 

“So tell me,” you began. You knew you needed to steer the conversation in a more light-hearted direction, not just for yourself, but for the boy whose lap you were in. “Was Robin mad?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Steve groaned as his head hit the wall behind him. At least he could walk into work with a smile on his face tomorrow. Tell her that he made it right…but maybe leave out the whole hysterical crying part. “She was ready to rip my head off after I told her what happened.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow and giggled. “Good to know she has my back.”

“Guess I’m outnumbered,” Steve allowed himself to laugh, and God did it feel good to do it with you.

“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t listen.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough,” he winced, but managed to maintain a grin. “I think I’ll survive her wrath…maybe.”

“Maybe,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Gonna have to put in some work there then.”

“I am prepared to do whatever it takes,” he tells you with mock seriousness. “Even offer to be her wingman with Vickie.”

“Wow, generous,” you snorted. It would probably benefit him more, if you were being honest. He had been nagging her to make a move for months, her constant pining and inaction was starting to get to him. He had been giving her the same advice over and over. It was getting ridiculous. His words, not yours. 

“And, hey, maybe I’ll give Munson a chance too,” he tells you, glancing down with a playful expression. “Join Hellfire, see what all the fuss is about.”

The laugh that escaped you was loud, you shook your head at him. “Steve, you would be terrible and D&D.”

“Hey, I’m good at strategy!” He protested, not allowing himself to be insulted in this manner. “I’d make a great…uh, whatever they call the fighter guy.”

“You mean a barbarian?” You say teasingly. “I could see you as more of a chotic bard. Always trying to talk yourself out of trouble.”

“Yeah? You never know, I could surprise you,” he says, leaning down to press his lips against your hairline. “For now though, I think I’ll focus on not screwing things up again.”

Your heart fluttered as you melted into him, securing your arms around his wide shoulders. “You’re on the right track, Harrington”

“Good,” he smiled at the nickname, placing his hand on your arm, the other on your back. “I don’t plan on going anywhere. And neither are you if I can help it.”

“Deal,” you say with a firm nod of your head. “No more freakouts, okay?”

He looked over your face once more, relieved that there were no more visible traces of the pain he had caused. Just his sweet girl smiling at him. Just the way he liked it. 

"I'll try my best," Steve whispered, holding you close. "I promise."

[pastryfication]

an oscar x deaf reader, maybe she’s friends w someone working in mclaren and visits. the reader almost gets into an accident and oscar saves her, mad that she wasn’t paying attention and yells at her only to realize she’s deaf. he apologizes and he starts talking to her after that day.

close save | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x deaf reader note: i know close to nothing about lip reading and deafness, all info used in this is something i’ve googled, so feel free to correct me if something is wrong!! also, i’ve tried something new with writing it mostly from oscar’s perspective, so let me know if you like it xx

the midday sun beats down on the mclaren garage, casting long shadows over the bustling crew. it’s been a long morning of prep work, but oscar doesn’t mind—he thrives in the intensity, in the noise, in the hum of engines that fill his ears.

as he turns to grab a drink of water, something catches his eye. a young woman is standing just outside the garage, looking around with a distracted expression. you’re not wearing any of the usual gear or badges that indicate you’re part of the team, but there’s something familiar about you. oscar narrows his eyes, trying to place your face, when he notices something alarming—a forklift is backing up, and you’re right in its path.

without thinking, oscar drops the bottle and sprints toward you. his heart pounds as he closes the distance, yelling for you to move, but you don’t react. panic grips him as he reaches out, grabbing your arm and yanking you out of the way just in time. the forklift lumbers past, the driver oblivious to the close call.

oscar’s chest heaves as he turns to face you, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “what the hell were you thinking? you could’ve been—” he stops mid-sentence, noticing your startled expression. your eyes are widened, but not in fear of the near-miss. it’s something else.

you blink at him, your mouth moving soundlessly, and suddenly oscar realizes what’s wrong. you can’t hear him. the realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and the anger he felt a moment ago is instantly replaced by guilt. his face softens, and he steps back, his hand dropping from your arm.

“i’m- i’m sorry,” he stammers, his voice suddenly quiet, as if lowering it might somehow make up for his outburst. “i didn’t know . . .”

you tilt your head slightly, as if trying to read his lips, and oscar feels a wave of helplessness wash over him. he raises his hands, fumbling awkwardly as he tries to communicate. he doesn’t know any sign language—he’s never needed to—but he gestures toward the forklift, then back at you, hoping you understand that he was just worried.

to his relief, you nod, giving him a small, understanding smile. you point to your ear, then shake your head, confirming what he’s already guessed. you’re deaf.

oscar takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. he feels terrible, not just for yelling at you, but for assuming you were ignoring him when you couldn’t even hear him in the first place. “i’m sorry,” he repeats, mouthing the words more deliberately this time. he hopes you can read his lips.

you nod again, your expression kind, and motion that it’s okay. oscar feels a strange warmth in his chest at your forgiveness. he still feels like an idiot, but at least you don’t seem to hold it against him.

at that moment, lando appears from the other side of the garage, waving enthusiastically as he approaches. “hey, mate! you met jon’s sister yet?” he calls out, clearly unaware of what just happened. he jogs over, grinning broadly. “oscar, this is-”

“jon’s sister?” oscar repeats, cutting him off. the pieces fall into place—jon, lando’s personal trainer, had mentioned his sister visiting today. he hadn’t put two and two together until now. “right. i didn’t realize . . .”

lando’s grin falters as he notices the awkward tension. “oh. uh, yeah . . . she’s deaf, by the way. did i forget to mention that?”

oscar shoots him a look, but lando just shrugs, mouthing an exaggerated “sorry!” before turning back to you. “i see you’ve met oscar, then,” he says, switching to a more careful, lip-readable pace. he introduces you properly, and oscar watches as you sign something back to lando.

lando nods and translates, “she says thank you for saving her back there.”

oscar feels his face heat up a little, embarrassed but also strangely proud. “no problem,” he says, and then, after a pause, he adds, “i should’ve been more careful. i’m sorry if i scared you.”

lando relays the message, and you just smile, giving oscar a thumbs up.

over the next few hours, oscar finds himself glancing over at you more than once. he feels a strange pull, unable to tear his eyes away as you move through the garage, interacting with your brother and some of the crew, completely at ease despite the noise and chaos around you.

at one point, you catch him looking and wave. oscar waves back, feeling a bit foolish. when the day winds down and most of the team starts packing up, oscar spots you sitting on one of the low walls outside the garage, watching the track.

he hesitates for a moment, then walks over and sits down next to you, keeping a respectful distance. you look over and give him a welcoming smile, and for the first time, oscar doesn’t feel nervous. he doesn’t know how to sign, but he doesn’t need to. you sit there together, quietly watching as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the track in shades of gold.

finally, oscar turns to you. his phone is open in his notes app, and in there he’s written: would you like to get a coffee sometime? maybe you could teach me some sign language.

you raise an eyebrow, then nod, your smile widening as you sign something to him. oscar doesn’t understand it yet, but he knows one thing: he’s definitely looking forward to learning.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

regulus black x reader where christmas at the potters brings back two brothers together

Regulus Black rarely trembled. He was a man of precision, poise, and well-practiced restraint. Yet here he stood, fidgeting with the cuffs of his tailored coat, staring at the warmly lit Potter residence as though it were a dragon’s lair. His free hand clasped yours tightly, clammy despite the biting chill of December air.

“Amour,” he began nervously, his tone a mixture of urgency and dread, “are you certain the invitation was for me too? Perhaps Lily and James only meant you, and it would be terribly awkward if—”

“Reg.” You squeezed his hand, cutting through his spiral. “You’re overthinking this. They invited both of us. Lily wrote your name herself, remember? In that beautiful gold ink? You’re family.”

His jaw tensed, his grey eyes darting to the door and then back to you. “Family,” he echoed softly, the word heavy with doubt and hope intertwined. “It’s been years. Sirius—he’s—what if—”

“What if he’s been waiting for this moment?” you interrupted gently, reaching up to cup his face. His eyes softened, the worry in them breaking your heart. “You’re here because they want you here. And so do I. Sirius will come around, love. And if he doesn’t, you’ll have me to hex him. Alright?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, though his fingers still fidgeted. He leaned into your touch for a moment, taking a deep breath before he muttered, “I still think this might be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” you assured him, squeezing his hand again as you turned to knock on the door. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, his voice stopped you.

“Amour, wait,” he said quickly. “Are you absolutely certain? What if—”

You silenced him with a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. “Regulus Arcturus Black, if you ask me one more time, I’ll drag you inside myself.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he whispered, though his grip on your hand tightened as the door swung open.

Lily stood there, her radiant smile lighting up the wintry evening. “You’re here!” she exclaimed warmly, pulling you into a hug before turning to Regulus. Her arms wrapped around him without hesitation, her genuine affection clear. “Regulus, welcome.”

He stiffened at first, his posture rigid and uncertain. But then, slowly, he returned the hug, a quiet “Thank you” escaping him. You could see the way his shoulders began to relax, the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes as he pulled back.

“Come in, come in,” Lily urged, her excitement genuine as she ushered you both inside.

James appeared next, his grin as boyish as ever. “Look who decided to join the fun!” he teased, clapping Regulus on the shoulder. “About time, mate.”

“James,” Regulus greeted stiffly, his voice carefully polite but uncertain. He glanced at you, and you smiled encouragingly. James didn’t seem fazed by Reg’s formality, stepping aside with a welcoming gesture.

Before anyone could say more, a small figure darted out from behind James, a mop of black hair bouncing as the toddler jumped forward with a loud “BAH!” aimed directly at Regulus.

Regulus froze, staring down at the child with wide eyes. Harry, oblivious to the tension, pouted, his tiny face scrunching in disappointment. “He’s not scared!” he whined, looking up at James for confirmation.

“Oh no,” Regulus said suddenly, his voice low and serious. He stepped back dramatically, clutching his chest as though struck. “You’ve frightened me terribly!” His grey eyes widened in mock terror, and his hand shot to yours for support.

Harry’s pout disappeared instantly, replaced by an elated giggle. “I scared him!” he cried, jumping up and down with glee. “Mum, I scared him!”

“You sure did, darling!” Lily laughed, beaming at her son.

James ruffled Harry’s hair with exaggerated pride. “Great job, young man. Now, go on, bring your uncle and aunt inside.”

Regulus froze at the word, his gaze snapping to James. He seemed to falter for a moment, swallowing hard as emotion flickered across his face. Then, a tiny tug on his coat brought him back.

“Come on, Uncle!” Harry demanded with a toothy grin, his little hands pulling insistently.

Regulus stared down at him, his breath catching. Slowly, hesitantly, a small, soft smile crept onto his lips. He bent down and lifted Harry into his arms, the toddler laughing as he looped his arms around Reg’s neck.

You watched, your chest tightening with emotion as tears pricked your eyes. The sight of Regulus, holding Harry so tenderly despite his nerves, was enough to overwhelm you. He turned to you, his smile shy but genuine, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss both his cheek and Harry’s.

“See?” you whispered against his ear. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Regulus didn’t reply, but the tear that slipped down his cheek as he carried Harry inside said everything.

The warmth of the Potter home enveloped you as you wandered into the kitchen, leaving Regulus in the living room with Harry still babbling excitedly in his arms. The sound of laughter and soft music filled the air, and the smell of something sweet baking teased your senses. You stepped inside, only to pause at the sight before you.

Peter Pettigrew and Mary Macdonald stood by the counter, hands brushing as they decorated a tray of cookies. Peter was a blushing mess, his usually pale cheeks bright pink as Mary whispered something that had him grinning like a schoolboy.

You cleared your throat loudly, hiding a smirk as they jumped apart, the spatula Mary had been holding clattering onto the counter. Peter looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Mary’s blush matched the rosy frosting she was piping.

“Am I interrupting something?” you teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“Bun!” Peter exclaimed, his voice a bit too high-pitched as he tried to regain his composure. “You’re here! We were just… uh, baking! Cookies!”

Mary rolled her eyes fondly but recovered quicker, smiling warmly at you. “Welcome, sweetie. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too,” you replied with a chuckle. “And no need to explain. You two are adorable, by the way.”

Peter fumbled with the tray of cookies, muttering something under his breath as Mary handed you a warm one to taste. “Here, try these,” Peter said eagerly, watching your expression with nervous anticipation.

You bit into the cookie and hummed appreciatively. “Delicious. Seriously, you two make a great team in the kitchen. And overall.”

Peter blushed, but before he could say anything, Regulus stepped into the room. His presence seemed to shift the energy, quieting Peter’s usual bumbling nature.

“Regulus,” Mary greeted him brightly, her grin widening as you gave her a nod. She quickly plated a few cookies and handed them to him. “Here, try one. We’ve been working on these for ages.”

Regulus took the plate with a small, reluctant smile, glancing briefly at you as if for guidance. He picked up a cookie and took a careful bite, pausing as the flavors settled. Then, to everyone’s surprise, his lips curved into the faintest smile.

“They’re wonderful, Mary,” he said softly, nodding in approval.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “And?”

Regulus hesitated, his gaze flickering to Peter, who was looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “...And Peter,” he added with a slight smirk.

Mary and Peter both grinned, looking utterly pleased with themselves. “Thanks, Regulus,” they said in unison, earning a chuckle from you.

The lighthearted moment was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. You turned to see Remus stepping in, his tall frame illuminated by the kitchen lights. He smiled warmly, his gaze soft as it landed on you.

“Dove,” he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. “You look lovely as ever.” Then, turning to Regulus, he nodded. “Glad you made it, Regulus. Sirius will be joining in a minute.”

Regulus stiffened at those words, his hand instinctively seeking yours as his usual calm façade faltered. After exchanging pleasantries with Remus, he pulled you aside, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper.

“Did you hear him?” Regulus asked, his panic barely contained. “‘Sirius will be joining in a minute.’ That’s code for ‘he’s furious I’m here.’ I knew this was a mistake. Oh, Merlin, I should leave. I’ll just make an excuse—would they believe me if I said Barty accidentally set Evan on fire?”

You tried not to laugh, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. “Reg, no one’s furious you’re here. Sirius might be dramatic, but he doesn’t hate you. And yes, they would believe that excuse, love. But just stay with me, okay? You’re doing fine.”

Regulus opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of a door opening again silenced him. Both of you turned as Sirius stepped into the room, his grey eyes instantly locking onto you.

“Doll,” Sirius greeted with a grin, pulling you into a quick hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you replied, giving him a warm smile.

Then Sirius’s gaze shifted to Regulus. His expression softened slightly, though his tone held a quiet intensity as he spoke. “Can I talk to you alone, Regulus?”

Regulus tensed beside you, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. His wide eyes darted to you in panic, but you just smiled reassuringly and leaned in to whisper, “You’ve got this.”

You blew him a quick kiss before stepping away, leaving him and Sirius alone in the kitchen. As you walked out, you caught Sirius glancing at you, his face unreadable, before turning back to his brother.

Sirius leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he studied his brother with a carefully neutral expression. Regulus, for his part, was stiff as ever, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to suppress his nerves.

“So…” Sirius began, dragging the word out. “You’re here.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I am. And you’re here.”

Sirius’s lips twitched upward in a small, begrudging smile. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

Regulus shifted on his feet. “You too.”

An awkward silence settled between them, the kind that years of estrangement couldn’t quite fill. Sirius scratched the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“I actually have something for you,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Regulus blinked, startled. “You… do?”

Sirius nodded, his usual bravado muted as he turned and disappeared into the hallway. Regulus stood frozen, glancing back at the kitchen door as if considering fleeing, but before he could, Sirius returned. In his hands was a small package, wrapped haphazardly in parchment and tied with a crooked ribbon.

“Here,” Sirius said, shoving it toward him. “It’s, uh, not much.”

Regulus stared at the package, his brow furrowing. “I wasn’t aware there was going to be gift exchanging.”

“There’s not,” Sirius replied quickly, waving him off. “Just take it, alright?”

Regulus hesitated, then reached out and accepted the gift with the same care one might use to handle a priceless artifact. He carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, revealing a neatly folded sweater inside. The soft fabric was midnight blue, and embroidered on the chest was a constellation—the Regulus star, shining bright—and a black dog stitched beside it, looking up toward the stars.

For a moment, Regulus just stared at it, his fingers brushing over the stitching. His throat tightened, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

“I…” he began, but his voice failed him.

Sirius, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, began rambling. “I, uh, had some help from Remus, of course. I’m rubbish with sewing—nearly stabbed myself a dozen times. And the constellation—Remus said it should be accurate, so we looked it up in one of his star charts, and—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Regulus surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Sirius. A quiet sob escaped him as he buried his face against Sirius’s shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding.

Sirius froze for a moment before exhaling shakily. A small smile tugged at his lips as he returned the embrace, his own tears slipping free as he clung to his younger brother.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the tension between them melting away in the quiet of the kitchen.

When Regulus finally pulled back, his face was tear-streaked but calmer. Sirius gave him a lopsided grin and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Reggie,” Sirius said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m pretty sure dinner’s ready. And you know how James gets when people are late to the table.”

Regulus nodded, wiping his face as he smiled faintly. “Alright.”

Together, they stepped into the kitchen, their bond mended in a way neither had expected when the evening began. Everyone glanced up as they entered, noticing the tear tracks on both their faces, but no one said a word. Instead, they simply smiled and made room for the two brothers to join the gathering.

Regulus slid into the seat beside you, and Sirius took his place next to Remus. You gave Regulus a soft, knowing smile, gently squeezing his hand under the table. He squeezed back, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

The room soon filled with laughter as Harry began reenacting his earlier “scare” on an unsuspecting Remus, who pretended to faint dramatically. James and Lily chuckled, Mary and Peter exchanged amused glances, and Sirius leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around Remus as he laughed at Harry’s antics.

As you looked around the table, your hand still intertwined with Regulus’s, you couldn’t help but think that this was what Christmas was truly about—family, love, and finding light even after the darkest of times.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE I literally sobbed while writing this (╥ᆺ╥；)

[vilentia]

How Kurt would act if he had a crush on you

Kurt Wagner x reader

Kurt would frequently steal glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, his yellow eyes filled with admiration and curiosity. When you catch him, he quickly looks away, blushing slightly.

To mask his growing feelings, Kurt might start playfully teasing you, making light-hearted jokes or gently poking fun at you in a way that’s always kind and never hurtful.

Despite his usually confident and charming demeanor, Kurt becomes a bit more nervous when you’re around. His usual grace might falter slightly, and he might stumble over his words when talking to you.

Kurt would find small ways to be close to you, like holding doors open, offering you his arm when you’re walking together, or helping you with tasks. Each gesture is subtle but filled with care.

He’d go out of his way to learn about your likes and dislikes. You’d find that he always knows your favorite snack, remembers little details you mention in passing, and surprises you with things that make you smile.

Kurt might try to compliment you, but it often comes out flustered and hurried, as he gets embarrassed about being too forward. Still, his sincerity shines through.

In battle or during missions, Kurt would be extra protective of you. He’s always making sure you’re safe, ready to teleport you out of harm’s way in an instant if necessary.

He’d start inviting you to do things with him, like practicing in the Danger Room, going for walks, or just hanging out. He tries to keep it casual, but it’s clear he enjoys your company.

When you stand close to him, Kurt becomes noticeably more fidgety. His tail swishes more, and his hands might move nervously as he tries to focus on anything other than how near you are.

His teasing would gradually evolve into more subtle flirting. He’d compliment your bravery, your skills, or how you light up a room, always with a mischievous smile that hints at his deeper feelings.

Kurt would often find himself daydreaming about you, lost in thought with a small, dreamy smile on his face. Sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until someone else points it out.

He would frequently seek out your opinion or approval on things, valuing what you think and using it as a way to connect with you on a deeper level.

Kurt would start opening up to you about his past, his family, and his faith. Sharing these personal stories is his way of letting you into his world, hoping you might see him as more than just a friend.

Though he’d never admit it, Kurt would feel a pang of jealousy if he saw you getting close to someone else. He might withdraw a bit, unsure of how to handle his emotions, but never wanting to show it outright.

After building up the courage, Kurt would eventually confess his feelings in a sweet, heartfelt way. He’d probably be a bit nervous, maybe even teleporting around out of anxious energy, but he’d make sure you know how much you mean to him.

****

It may be a little out of character, but I'm a sucker for slow burns. 😮‍💨

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐕𝐢𝐥).

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; you make out with vil, cue his walk of shame back to his own dorm.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It had been a surprise when Vil had shown up at your doorstep this late in the evening, bearing some new skincare product or another and insisting that it would do wonders for your acne-prone skin.

❋ He’d gone out of his way to make the long trek over to Ramshackle, and so you’d invited him in, half-expecting him to decline since your dorm was old, dusty, and generally below his standards.

❋ You didn’t think that he’d actually agree.

❋ And you didn’t think that things would . . . Escalate.

❋ (Note to self: Vil Schoenheit apparently has a thing for your granny pyjamas. Or maybe it’s a thing for the person wearing them. Who knew?)

❋ To his credit, Vil tries to exercise some restraint at first. Just a kiss. Maybe two. But every time he tries to pull back, you’ll look up at him with unfocused eyes and a soft plea on your swollen lips, making him lean in again with a smirk and a sigh as he sinks deeper into the kiss, into you.

❋ Somewhere in the heat of things, he loses track of time entirely, and by the time he realizes he should be heading back to Pomefiore, it’s way past curfew. The haze of lust quickly clears once he catches sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. There's no way he's making it back without attracting attention.

❋ He quickly disentangles himself from you (no matter how much you pout and beg for ‘just one more’), and turns his attention to fixing his makeup.

❋ He’s absolutely horrified once he catches a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror. Smudged lipstick, mussed hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt — how positively unbecoming! Vil Schoenheit doesn’t get caught looking disheveled.

❋ Unfortunately, there aren’t many high-end makeup products available to him in Ramshackle right now. Sighing heavily, Vil makes a mental note to start leaving some of his own products in your drawer, especially if these romantic escapades are to continue.

❋ He’s almost tempted to cast a small glamour to cover up the evidence. Almost. He’s Vil Schoenheit, after all, and the idea of concealing a makeup smudge feels both laughable and tragic to him. No, he’ll wear the consequences of your enthusiastic show of affection.

❋ He leaves with his head held high, hoping that with his usual haughty attitude and poise, no one will dare comment on his lateness . . . And more importantly, his appearance.

❋ No such luck.

❋ The first person he encounters on his way back is none other than Rook, who seems to appear out of thin air with glittering eyes and a knowing smile. “Ah, the scent of amour is unmistakable! You must have been at Ramshackle, non?”

❋ Vil can feel his cheeks pinkening as he hisses at Rook to keep it down. “Not. Another. Word. Understood?”

❋ He can’t catch a break in the dorm, either. It seems as though everyone is awake even at this god-forsaken hour, lining the hallways, pointing and staring and whispering. Vil grits his teeth and presses on, unwilling to falter when he’s almost made it to the safety of his room. Internally, he’s wishing he’d come in through the back door or, better yet, stayed hidden in Ramshackle.

❋ Finally, just when he thinks he’s in the clear, Epel catches sight of him, and opens his mouth. Vil raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, daring him to try, and Epel shuts his mouth (he does start laughing once Vil is out of earshot, though).

❋ Once he’s back in the relative safety of his expansive room, Vil tosses his coat upon his bed and heaves a sigh of relief, catching his breath before he cleans up and does his nighttime skincare routine. His eyes flicker to the smudge of your lipstick on his collar with a little smile . . . Though he’ll never admit he didn’t wash it out right away.

[pathologicalreid]

orange juice | S.R.

you and spencer have an announcement to make, but you're not quite sure how to do it

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: bau!reader, pregnant!reader, nausea and pregnancy symptoms, slightly protective spencer, mentions blood tests and doctors, not proofread word count: 906 a/n: this week has been so atrocious and awful and stressful!!! fuck cancer!! fuck student loans!!! i need spencer reid fluff!!!

“Drink it,” Spencer murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the file on his desk in front of him while noting the way you hadn’t so much as budged in his periphery. You were leaning a bit too far to the left, and the more he observed you, the more he worried that you were going to topple over. “It’ll make you feel better,” he prodded.

Your head jolted as he continued to watch you as if he had woken you from a deep sleep, “What? Sorry,” you mumbled, eyes focusing on the bottle of orange juice that he had placed on your desk upon your arrival at the BAU.

A laugh caught your attention as you slowly turned your office chair around, “Late night, pretty girl?” Derek quipped, winking in your direction before turning back to his own work.

Turning back around, you shared a look with Spencer while rolling your chair closer to your desk, hoping to be able to better prop your head up. The real answer was that you had an early morning, woken up by a roiling stomach courtesy of the first trimester.

Spencer had gotten up with you at five this morning and your queasiness showed no sign of faltering. Your stomach had nothing left to give by the time you went to your doctor’s appointment, but you assured your husband that you were fine when you arrived in Quantico after having your blood drawn.

The issue was that no one knew. Other than Hotch – for obvious personal safety reasons – no members of the BAU were aware that you were pregnant. It started as wariness, wanting to reach a certain milestone before letting your team know, but it quickly turned into a different form of anxiety. You hadn’t let your team know you were even talking about having a baby. Neither of you were entirely sure how to broach the subject or announce your pregnancy, so you didn’t.

Hidden in plain sight, resting on Spencer’s desk was a sonogram, a three-by-five, black-and-white photo of your baby, the two of you were simply waiting for a profiler observant enough to notice. You weren’t showing, yet, as you encroached upon the second trimester, you worried you were running out of time.

His theory was that your nausea was being exacerbated by low blood sugar, which is why he made sure to give you orange juice – you weren’t so convinced, orange juice was brutal coming back out.

You heard the familiar woosh of the glass doors to the bullpen swing as someone entered, the click-clack of Garcia’s heels snapping you back to attention, it was almost time for morning debrief. If you were lucky, you’d remain at your desk for the rest of the day. If your luck ran out, you’d have to pop a Zofran before getting on the jet.

Sighing, you rested your chin in your hand before going back to clicking through your emails, pausing for just a moment when Spencer reached across the short barrier between your desks and opened the bottle for you. To appease him, you took a small sip of the orange juice, pleased when you saw him settle in his desk chair.

“What’s that?” Garcia asked, nearly stumbling to a stop behind Spencer’s desk as her eyes snagged on something on the surface. “No, no I know what that is,” she continued, stammering and flicking her eyes between you and Spencer.

Penelope’s rising voice garnered the attention of other people in the bullpen, bringing them to your and Spencer’s adjacent desks. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” Derek piped up, making his way over and setting a hand on the back of your chair.

Pointing at you, the technical analyst wagged her finger as she made the connections in her brain. The doctor’s appointments and the sudden aversion to girl’s night made sense to her now, and you could see it in the way her gaze softened when she stepped around the desks in order to give you a hug, “Is that real?”

As you reciprocated her hug, you nodded, glancing over at your husband as you knew your secret was now out. “Yeah,” you mumbled into her blonde hair, “It’s real.”

“Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Morgan said, looking around, sharing a confused look with Emily but earning a ‘dude, really?’ look from JJ.

Releasing you from the hug, Penelope reached over the acrylic barrier, plucked the sonogram off Spencer’s desk, and presented it to the rest of the team Vanna White style, “Baby genius is imminent!” She announced, beaming at you and Spencer as you snuck around them to stand at his side.

One by one, Emily, JJ, and Derek embraced both you and Spencer, “Wait, how long has that picture been there?” Emily questioned, arching a dark brow at you and Spencer.

“Two weeks,” Spencer answered quickly, snaking an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip, squeezing it reassuringly.

You leaned into him slightly before nodding in affirmation, “Yeah, some profilers you guys are!”

Rolling his eyes, Morgan came back at you for another hug, holding you so tightly that your feet lifted slightly off the ground. “Woah, hey, be careful,” Spencer said, waiting expectantly for your coworker to let you go.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped back to where Spencer was standing while Emily spoke again, “Oh, he’s going to be insufferable by the end of this.”

[ssahotchnerr]

no but imagine pre-relationship aaron with fem!reader who can fall asleep anywhere & in the most uncomfortable positions known to mankind 💀 aaron is both terrified and amazed bcs how do you keep doing that 😧 but then every time he sees you like that he slowly & carefully arranges you in a more comfortable position 🥹🫶🏻 & the team gives him shit for it 💀

(luvie can I be 🪷 anon 🥹🫶🏻)

makeshift

omg stop i love that cw; fem!reader, bau family banter, pining aaron <333

falling asleep in a federal prison, may seem like a hard thing to do. surrounded by the worst of the worst, distant yells from the inmates floating down the hall, the mere location itself. but apparently, not for you.

the facility was currently on lockdown, meaning no one was going in or out, and therefore you were stuck overnight. as a result, the warden offered one of the locker rooms to be strictly the bau's 'break room', so to speak.

after his last, rather unpleasant interview of the evening, aaron was hellbent on a fresh, but not very good, cup of coffee. as he pushed the door open and entered, his focus diverted straight to you.

you were laid across a steel bench - eyes closed, hands clasped over your stomach, absolutely gone to the world. however, if you moved an inch - or probably less - would you completely topple onto the hard floor.

"you're kidding." aaron deadpanned as he looked at you in pure astonishment, coffee long forgotten.

"she's been like that for thirty minutes now." jj commented from where she was leant against one of the sets of lockers, head bent down as she scrolled through her phone. "but are we surprised?"

"nah," derek snorted lightly. "but hey, better than the floor."

"tell me about it." a low grumble came from reid, somewhere.

aaron's face pulled into one of discomfort, his brows drawing into a line above his eyes. the surface you were asleep on, had to be cold, for starters, by nature of the material and the a/c was still kicking in high gear despite the cooler temperature outside. the flat metal had to be highly uncomfortable, no cushion underneath you at all, most likely digging into your shoulder blades. you'd inevitably be waking up to an angry back, which aaron knew from experience - from past events where you miraculously drifted off in questionable positions.

eager to lessen the outcome, aaron shrugged his suit jacket off his shoulders. he balled it up, situating it snug under his arm.

next, he crouched beside you, cradling your head in his hand as he lifted it gently. at the movement, you stirred, a small noise escaping you and aaron froze, waiting for you to settle back down before resuming his actions. part of him feared his current, drumming heart would somehow rouse you more.

but once you had, he slid his jacket underneath your head - a makeshift pillow. it wasn't much, but it would at least alleviate some of the pressure collecting in your neck, and you wouldn't be as sore when you awoke. the next thing he had to figure out, something to lay on the ground, on either side of you, to soften the fall in case you were to-

"that's real cute hotch." derek grinned, grabbing aaron from his thoughts. "when you make up my bed next, can you add one of those pillow chocolates? thanks."

"funny."

aaron stole a glance at you, a calmness brushing over him and the ends of his lips daring to tug upwards into a smile. he couldn't help himself - sure, he wished you weren't fast asleep on a bench that could cause potential harm if you budged, but it didn't hide the fact that you were, well, you.

his hopeful, hidden attempt didn't go unnoticed by one person though, who naturally had to open their big mouth.

"that's nothing compared to that case in montana," aaron shot dave a pointed look to quit it, but only got a wink in return. "hotch practically carried-"

"dave."

"aaron." dave quipped back, an eyebrow quirked high in amusement, but fell silent. although, his witty expression didn't falter, as if he were noting to aaron that it wouldn't be difficult at all to be persuaded to continue.

"whoa whoa there, rossi," morgan straightened his posture, a hand out. "go on."

[princesssmars]

abby who definitely doesn’t have a thing for showing you off. nsfw.

you remember a certain night a while when you had started dating abby, both curled up on her couch and cozied under a blanket while watching one of your comfort movies. the man on screen was getting jealous at someone hitting on his girlfriend in a bar, and you’d passively asked her if she’d do the same for you.

“ok, be honest. if someone bc was hitting on me in front of you, how would you react?”

“i’d hope as soon as they saw me they’d stop. but i’d probably just tell them to leave you alone unless they escalate.”

“aww, you’re so cordial. so you wouldn’t punch someone in the face for me?”

“of course, but i’m definitely not throwing the first one. i like you but a night in jail is a little too extreme for me.”

you’d laughed together and averted your attention back to the movie, cuddling up closer to her side. at this point the couple had returned to their home, the man pressing the woman up into the wall as he left a collage of love bites over her neck and shoulders.

“what about that? would you do that to me?”

you could feel the woman next to you as she slightly shifted her body, suddenly jittery in her position.

“what like…leave marks on you? for other people to see?”

“yeah, then everyone would already know i’m taken. would save you some time instead of yelling at pervs.”

she let out a stunted little chuckle when you pressed a small kiss to her cheek and grabbed her hand to hold in yours. you noticed the way her eyes locked into the screen when the couples actions started getting heated, the way her chest started to stutter with her breathing.

really, you didn’t have any choice but to take advantage of her clear excitement over the prospect.

the next time you were planned to head out with your girlfriends you wore a top you knew she wouldn’t be able to resist you in, low cut with plenty of your skin on display. it was almost comical the way her eyes became the size of dinner plates when you walked out of the bedroom, strutting over to the woman who sat on the couch and was gripping her thighs so aggressively you thought she might rip her pants.

it was no surprise that only a few minutes later she had you pressed into the cushions under her, lips kissing and biting marks from your neck down to your breasts and stomach. a firm hand gripped the meat of your thigh and bringing it up to wrap around her waist, the other pushed up into your skirt and rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

your head feels fuzzy as she grinds her fingers up into your clit the same time she bites a deep mark into the special spot on your neck, body and voice involuntarily reacting and pleading for more. you know she wants to give it to you, can tell by the way her whines reverberate each time she finds a new spot on your chest to mark and how her hips grind themselves into her arm to push herself against you even harder.

but still, she pulls away. you’re both breathing heavily, droopy eyed and ogling each other when she quickly stands up and yanks your arm to bring you to a standing position. her hands place themselves on your upper arms when your legs slightly falter and she bites her lip when you look up at her with a whine, not able to come up with the words to ask her why she’d leave you so close to the edge.

wordlessly she grabs your purse and places it in yours hands l, guiding you to the doorway before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. you pout before making your way to your car, plopping down in the drivers seat and gasping when you catch a glimpse of your neck and chest in the rear view mirror, shades of reds pinks and purples dusting your skin.

you aren’t given the chance to ask about it before your phone is dinging with an message from abby, the words lighting up the top of your screen.

“let everyone at the club see those, huh?”