#by the way. before I go back to sleep and forget.

[gumii-bearr]

thinking about the first time megumi calls you a pet name.

you’d been dating for a while, a few months at that point, but he was always reluctant to use a pet name for you.

he preferred to call you by your name or the nickname everyone gives you.

but maybe it’s yuji that changes his mind.

“wait— fushiguro, you don’t call her baby? or sweetie? pookie maybe?? just y/n?”

“…that’s her name.”

but the thought lingers for weeks and he starts thinking about all the things that you call him.

“hey, gumi!”

“hi, baby,” before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“oh my god, gumi you have to see this!”

“thank you, sweet boy—“

since when did you start giving him pet names? perhaps it’s because it sounds so natural coming from you. you say cute pet names with such confidence behind them that he barely registers that you’re the only one who calls him those things.

there are a few failed attempts where the cute pet name he totally didn’t spend hours thinking about in his dorm last night, gets stuck in his throat and he just ends up hiding his red face in the collar of his jacket.

pet names don’t come naturally to megumi. before he met you, he thought pet names were sort of cringey and lame, that they sounded stupid.

but he feels so fuzzy when you say them, your smile bright and beaming, your sparkly eyes making him weak at the knees and the adorable pet name sending a jab right through his chest.

so there’s a second attempt.

and a third,

and a fourth,

before he gets it out without stuttering over his words and wishing the floor would swallow him whole because you didn’t hear him or it came out as a choked cough rather than an actual word—

“hi baby! i picked us up some pizza… i thought we could catch up on our watch list tonight.”

and megumi gulps back the lump in his throat, clammy hands clutching the material of his sweats—

“sounds good… babe.”

and you pause, a smile beaming across your face and you slowly turn to him.

“what was that—?”

“nothing.”

“no, what did you call me?”

“forget it.”

“wait, don’t be embarrassed, gumi!”

“too late, i’m going to ask shoko for her strongest shit so i can forget what just happened—“

and you giggle, tugging on his sleeve as he attempts to writhe away from you on the bed, pressing his face into the nearest pillow as you clamber over him with a cheeky smile.

“did you call me a pet name mr. fushiguro?”

“and i’ll regret it til i die.”

“oh, boo.”

safe to say he tends to stick with calling you your name or your offical nickname, but there are some rarer occasions where it slips out.

like when he’s unbelievably tired and sore from a day of sparring and missions, and he sneaks into your dorm and crawls into bed with you.

“long day, hm?”

“mm, i feel better now though.”

and you stroke his hair, “get some sleep then, ‘kay?”

“mhm… thank you, baby.”

and you just smile against his hair, he doesn’t realise what he’s said and it’s better that way, because it makes it a little more special.

[that-random-fangirl]

Part 4 - Three Bats Walk Into a Food Court (And Also a Person)

~~~~~✨~~~~~

Jason’s brother was a dick. Without a doubt, 100%, an asshole. Said brother had insisted on meeting up for Sibling Bonding Jaybird! No, this was not ‘sibling bonding’, this was the result of the asshole losing a bet with Steph, having to go shopping with her as forfeit – and dragging Jason into the nightmare under false pretences.

“Dick.” Jason spat from the backseat, meaning it in every sense.

“Yes Lil’ Wing?” The Dick-in-question responded from the driver’s seat as he pulled into a parking space at the mall.

“Richard.” 

Richard (Dick) Grayson gasped in horror. “No! You can’t full name me I’m older than you!”

Steph snorted in the passenger seat. “It’s your legal name, not your full name, dumbass.”

“Then you can’t legal-name me! I’ll tell Alfred!” 

Jason raised an eyebrow, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Oh really? You’ll tell Alfred?” 

“Yes.” 

Steph watched the exchange eagerly, hitting record on her phone to capture whatever followed. “Oh this’ll be good.”

Jason produced a card from his wallet and presented it to Dick. “There you go.”

“I told you writing ‘I do what I want’ on a card doesn’t count as any kind of permit. I’m a cop, I’m not gonna fall for that.” He scoffed, before adding in a mutter. “Again.”

“Nothing of the sort, Dickolas – look at the card.” Jason insisted.

“What? This one? Fine.” Dick sighed, before beginning to read in a mocking tone. “Master Jason has every right and my permission to legal-name Master Rich—” He trailed off. “What the fuck? Alfred is in on this?!”

“It was his idea, actually.” Steph commented. “Something about how someone has to do it when he’s not available.”

“Why the fuck does Jason have it?!”

“I was nominated.” Jason shrugged.

“That doesn’t answer my question?!”

“Well,” Steph started, beginning to count them off on her fingers, “Damian is the baby, so you’d never take it seriously. Duke was busy with finals at the time. Cass didn’t want it. I’m apparently not ‘mature’ enough, or something. Tim can barely take care of himself and keeps forgetting to sleep so it couldn’t be him. Babs already has authority over you and Bruce wasn’t involved.”

“Plus we don’t listen to the Old Man anyway.” Jason added.

Dick stared at them, mouth hanging open. “What qualified Jason?!”

“Well he did start his own very successful business.” Steph mused.

“He became a Crime Lord!”

“His Business has many departments, and he handles all of them without resorting to over-caffeination and sleep deprivation.”

“He’s literally a vigilante.”

“We’re all vigilantes, get with the program. He was the best one for the job.” Steph replied, climbing out of the car and tapping away on her phone, probably sending the video to the Bat-siblings group chat.

“But I’m the oldest.” Dick whined, making his way around the front of the car to stand with Steph.

“Precisely why you need someone to legal-name you, can’t have you getting too cocky now, can we?” Steph teased, looking up from her phone and pinching at one of Dick’s cheeks.

“No we cannot.” Jason agreed. “I’m in the front on the way back, by the way, I can’t believe you stuffed me in the backseat.” He shut the door with perhaps a touch more force than was necessary, just to see his brother’s face scrunch up in displeasure.

“Please don’t slam the door. I like this car.”

“Oops.” Jason deadpanned.

Steph chose that moment to interrupt. “Not my fault you’re gigantic, I was there first.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I didn’t choose the Passenger Princess life, it chose me.”

“Well, next time you can ‘passenger princess’ in the back, your highness.” Jason bowed mockingly. “Then you can stretch out across the backseat.”

“Solid point – I call backsies when we’re done here!”

“You cannot stretch out on the backseat while I’m driving that’s illegal.”

Jason and Steph stared at Dick for a moment, then – realising he was serious – tried and failed to stifle their laughter. 

“Wow.” Steph gasped, smacking Jason’s shoulder in her amusement. “That’s hilarious, holy crap.”

“Yeah, alright Dickhead, sure.” Jason snorted.

“I’m serious.” 

“Jeez if you’re that worried, I’ll drive.” Jason shrugged. “Can’t have the ‘passenger princess’ not playing passenger.”

Dick pressed his fingers together and into his chin. “I just said I like this car, you are not driving it.”

“You know I’m the best driver out of the clan, excluding Alfred, of course.” Jason protested.

“You drive like you have nothing to live for.” Dick pointed out, immediately regretting his words.

“Well yeah, I died.”

“Oh my God.” Dick threw his hands in the air, spinning on his heel and marching towards the entrance to the mall. “Nope, you are not driving my car. Let’s go get this done before you people drive me to the dark timeline.”

Steph and Jason trailed after him, sniggering.

Eventually, with only one instance of Jason ramming Dick into a concrete planter in the parking lot, the trio made it into the mall. Steph had stowed her phone and set off at a truly impressive – if you didn’t know she was a vigilante who leapt from rooftops after hours – pace for the other side of the complex.

“Steph! Slow down!” Dick begged, hopelessly.

“Dick! Hurry up!” Steph responded.

“Why are you going all the way to the other side of the mall? Don’t you wanna look here?” Dick blurted, confused.

“Dicky-boy, why don’t you know how to shop?” Steph halted in her march, facing them to shake her head. “The answer is so obvious!”

“No it’s not?!” Came Dick’s desperate reply.

Jason sighed, deciding to help his idiot older brother. “We’re starting further so we finish closer, dumbass.”

“Ohhh.” 

“Yes, ‘ohhh’, fuckin’ idiot.”

Steph smirked, spinning back on her heel and setting off again with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. Her minions associates following close behind.

Truthfully, this situation was Danny’s fault, He hadn’t been looking where he was going and now, he was drenched in several hot drinks and covered in three different kinds of fries. In his defence, he was running on probably 20 minutes of sleep and still injured – with all that on top of literally being half dead – it’s fair to say he was a little out of it.

“Well, that’s not ideal.” Danny muttered. 

That didn’t quite cover it, but it was better than the expletives that had filled the air following his collision with a tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed man carrying a tray of food court fare. The tray of food that was now all over Danny and the man himself.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry are you okay?!” The man exclaimed.

“Are these chilli cheese fries? I’d ask if you recommend them but I’m guessing you haven’t tried them.” Danny asked, only to be met with silence. “Okay, wrong crowd, it’s fine – don’t worry.”

“Uh, you sure, kid? You’re covered in – well – a whole lotta stuff.” A blonde woman in a purple sweatshirt pointed out.

“I’m not a kid,” Danny grunted, “and I’ve been covered in worse things.”

“When and how?” Some jock-looking dude with a white streak in his black hair – weird fashion statement but go off, I guess – asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Um, people like you aren’t exactly ‘besties’ with people like me?” Danny stated, gesturing to – well – all of the guy in question before doing the same to himself. “I end up in lockers and trashcans because I fit?”

“What do you mean ‘people like you?” The guy asked, somewhere between insulted and concerned.

“Uh, jocks? What did you think I meant?”

“You – hah – you think Jason is a jock?!” The guy who Danny bumped into in the first place laughed from the floor where he’d landed post-collision.

“Uh,” Danny started, “I did, though it looks like I was wrong? Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine, kid.” Jason responded, raising an eyebrow with half a smile, daring him to say anything.

“I probably deserved that.” Danny laughed. “Sorry about your lunch, I guess?”

“It’s fine.” The girl assured. “Dick ran into you.”

“I’m sure he’s not a dick!” Danny insisted.

She laughed out loud with Jason while the other guy just smiled.

“She’s not calling me names, don’t worry.” His smile grew. Apparently, he was trying not to laugh, he offered a hand to shake. “My name is Richard, but I go by Dick. The girl about to fall over is Steph, and the guy is Jason.”

“Oh, okay then.” Danny replied, attempting to avoid mentioning that high school must have sucked for this guy. 

He decided the ‘Dick’ name must be a Gotham thing, as that Duke guy from the library had a brother was also apparently called that. He shook Dick’s hand, before suddenly recalling that he hadn’t introduced himself. 

“Oh, right, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny – let us help you clean yourself up.”

“Oh no it’s fine don’t worry!” Danny tried. “I can sort myself out later!”

“Nope, I just picked up a couple spare sweaters – I have a lot of siblings and they like to steal them – so you and Dick will go change while Steph and I order some more lunch and let one of the workers know about the mess.” Jason insisted, handing Dick his bag before adding; “You like fries, Danny?”

“Yeah? Wait what?”

“Great! Thanks Jay!” Dick called, accepting the bag and grabbing Danny’s hand, half-dragging and half-guiding the boy to the nearest restroom.

Outside the cubicles, Dick handed Danny a sweater.

“Here you go! Blue for you and red for me!”

“Why?”

“Well, blue matches your eyes and red is Jason’s favourite colour, so as his brother I like to wear it to remind him I’m secretly his favourite.” Dick laughed.

“I meant, why are you being so nice to me?” Danny asked, staring into the man’s eyes, “I ran into you, spilled your lunch everywhere and yet you guys are giving me a sweater and apparently buying me lunch? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why shouldn’t I help you out? It wasn’t your fault, just bad luck.” Dick asked.

“Hah, I seem to get a lot of that.” Danny mumbled, before speaking up, “You don’t even know me.”

 “Why should that stop me from helping you out if I can?” He paused a moment, noticing the lines of distrust etched into Danny’s expression, “ Maybe you remind me of my brother.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded.

“How? He’s, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, huge – I’m average-sized at best and compared to that guy I’m a shrimp.”

“He wasn’t always linebacker-sized,” Dick snorted, “He used to be smaller than you – scrappy too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I guess there’s a little more to it than that,” Dick pondered, “We didn’t get along all that well when we were younger, I still regret that. We missed a lot of time together that I wish I could get back.”

“That’s, um, deep?” Danny shifted foot-to-foot, “Thanks – I think?”

“No worries – happy to help!” Dick beamed.

Danny accepted the sweater awkwardly, not sure how to deal with the information that this random dude had just dropped in his lap. He shook it off, heading into the cubicle to change.

Dick watched for half a second, suddenly hit by a wave of emotion. He shook his head, clinging onto the look in Danny’s eyes as a distraction – the same look that was etched into everything Jason did as a child, and reared it’s head even now, at times. The desperation, the mistrust, and worst of all – the way he seemed to accept it as inevitable, like it wasn’t a surprise. Dick didn’t mention that he heard Danny’s comment about having a lot of bad luck. He didn’t mention that the kid looked tired, too thin – he didn’t mention how bony he felt when they collided.

If he texted Jason to get an extra serving or two of fries, that was between him and his Little Wing. If Jason had a few milkshakes along with the fries waiting for them – Dick’s favourite flavour, too – that was simply a coincidence. Steph said nothing, and Danny had no way of knowing.

By the end of lunch, Danny had weaselled Jason’s address out of him, so he could return the sweater once he’d washed it (the kid insisted, though Jason wouldn’t have minded if he never saw the sweater again). Danny wasn’t as subtle as he hoped, but it was hard to get anything by bat-trained vigilantes, and Jason shared the information easily – hopeful that the kid would come if he was ever in any trouble too.

The group bid their goodbyes, Danny heading out on his own, the others returning to their shopping. Soon enough, distracted with their lives and heroics, the vigilantes forgot about the boy with icy eyes, who watched with distrust. A week later, Jason received a package in the mailbox, inside of which was the sweater, some candy and a green post-it note:

‘Thanks for the sweater, and the fries – see you around.

– Danny’

The traces of Lazarus water on the note were only discovered when the other message appeared, weeks later.

‘When her Knights have been called, and arrive on the scene,

Release him, only together can you all win.

If the True shall be bold, you’ll learn where he’s been,

When all is as it should be, the city bells will ring.

– CW’

“Do you ever think Batman gets sad?” Young Danny asks his father as he gets tucked into bed one night.

“I don’t think so, son.” Jack responds, kissing Danny’s head.

Ten years later, as Danny is nearly bleeding to death in Batman’s arms after being found in an alley, he finally understands. Batman can get sad, but he can also be very, very angry at the same time.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Full fic of this blurb

Bucky had a love, hate relationship with his arm. He loved that it was something that he could use if you ever needed protection. It was always on him, so he was always ready to save you if anything ever happened. He liked how it made him feel whole again. Missing an arm really makes you feel less than at times but having his arm on made him feel like a normal person again, especially when it was covered in a sleeve, and he was able to forget that it's made of metal.

But at the same time, he hated it. No matter the benefits that came with the arm, he couldn't find it in him to not hate it. It was a weapon. It's what made him a weapon. It was a constant reminder of his past, but even though he hated looking at it, he hated not having it on even more. Without it, he didn't feel like a man worthy of you, and that outweighed the hatred tremendously.

You had asked him about it before. It was easy to see that he wasn't comfortable with the arm still, so you asked if he'd be more comfortable with having it off when the two of you were alone at your apartment. You immediately regretted your words when you saw him visibly stiffen, your eyes widened, and you were quick to try and take back your words. "Buck, I... I just want you to be comfortable, that's all." You kissed his shoulder and felt him relax against you. "I am comfortable, doll." He half-heartedly mumbled and gave you a weak smile, but that was enough for you to drop the subject for the time being.

He wasn't lying fully... he was comfortable around you. He just wasn't comfortable with the idea of you seeing him without it just yet. Maybe one day in the future, it'd happen organically, but for now, the idea of you seeing him without his arm made his mind race. What if you were disturbed by it? It wasn't every day you saw someone missing a limb. What if you wanted to know the story behind him losing his arm? He's never really told anyone that story people just seemed to already know it. what if you viewed him as less than? As not worthy for you. He couldn't bear having you think of him the way he thinks of himself.

Later that night, the two of you went to bed, and for the first time in your relationship, Bucky was the first one to fall asleep. You followed shortly after, but not before taking the opportunity to take in his peaceful form. With a kiss on his chest, you finally closed your eyes, ready for a peaceful sleep.

Unfortunately, peacefulness between the two of you were short lived. Maybe it was because he fell asleep more aware of his arm, more aware of his past, but whatever it was caused Bucky to have one of the worst nightmares he's had in a while.

The first thing that stirred you awake was Bucky's groans and mumbles. It wasn't uncommon for him to get nightmares and as you were starting to wake yourself up so you can help him wake from the dream, before you could do anything though his left hand grabbed onto your arm with a tightness that left you worried he was going to break it. This was the first time you ever truly noticed how strong Bucky could be.

"Bucky...baby, you have to get up." You called out to him as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm. The more you tried to fight his grip, the tighter it got. "James!" You cried out loudly as you watched your wrist starting to bruise under his hand. Relief flooded your body as you see Bucky's blue eyes flutter open. Horrific gasps fall from his lips when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Dropping your arm quickly, he stumbled out of the bed just as fast. You cradled your arm and looked up at him, leaning against the shared dresser that was across the room, trying to think of a way to reassure him that this was a complete accident.

"Doll...I-" He choked on a sob; his eyes can't focus on anything other than your injured arm. An injury his arm caused... and injury he caused. You watched from the bed as he fell to the floor, crying harder than you've ever seen before. Cautious for your injured arm you got up to go sit beside him; "James I'm okay, it's okay" You rubbed his back softly as you continued whispering affirmations in hope to calming him down. Once he started to breathe calmly again, he finally found the courage to look you in the eyes. His heart broke seeing the eyes of the one he loved more than anything. Those eyes usually brought relief, and now they brought guilt.

"I hurt you..." He mumbled in disbelief; his head was spiraling, but your soft touch was still the one thing to bring him back. "I'm really okay, it's not broken." You moved it around so he could see that you weren't in too much pain. "It's a little sore, but nothing serious, and I'm still breathing. You're still breathing. We're okay, baby, I promise." He shook his head at your reassurance. "I could've..." a shake breath falls before he could finish the sentence and tears fill his eyes all over again, "I'm too dangerous for you to be around" He tried to sound confident saying that, so there was a better chance that you would listen, but it came out weak and tearful.

It was your turn to shake your head at his words. "You are not a dangerous man; you are not the winter solider anymore. Baby, tell me who you are, " you asked, knowing his name would be able to bring him back to reality easier than you could. He took a deeper breath in before responding to your question. " I am James Buchanan Barnes." He visibly relaxed after repeating those words a few times.

"I still hurt you, doll. I don't care how bad it was this time it could've been worse...it might be worse next time." He said while staring at your bruising arm. Seeing you hurt by his doing made him realize what he needed to do. "I can't let this happen again." Your eyes widen at his words, and for the first time that night, fear coursed through your veins. "What do you mean?" you whispered, scared he'll answer with wanting to break up.

Standing from the floor, he turned around from you before removing his arm and laying it on the dresser you were still leaning against. "I can't hurt you as badly with just this old thing," he said with a chuckle as he held his right hand out to help you up. Taking his hand with your non injured arm, the two of you made eye contact.

Unspoken words that were clear for the both of you to read were exchanged in your glances. Unspoken vows that the two of you will get through this tough spot together.

"How about we get to bed, huh? It's way too early to be up." He muttered into your hair line as he kissed the crown of your head before leading you to the bed. Now, for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt safe sleeping next to you. And against what he believed, not having his arm on made him feel more like the man you deserved and less of a weapon that he needed to shield you from.

Tagging a few people who's been waiting for this:

@jtthompson

@19blackbutterfly97-blog

@calengalad

@toomuchbucky

@buckyinmyuniverse

[astrasng]

kisses shared with ateez 𝜗𝜚

→ summary: ateez as type of kisses. they are down bad for you

→ warning: mainly fluff, nothing else

→ a/n: happy valentine's day to everyone ♡ make sure to treat yourself to something delicious and stay hydrated! ♡ ps: probably jongo's my fav from all of these 🤭

here's the masterlist to the event ^^

enjoy!♡

──── ⋆˚࿔ hongjoong || hurried kiss

hongjoong, the busy man he is, often forgets about giving you a kiss before leaving for work. and that often leads to hurried kisses, wanting to give you every single ounce of his love into one messy, i have to leave kiss before finally letting you go. he often can't control his feelings when it comes to you, especially when you are kissing him, your hands in his hair or around his neck, pulling him even closer, meaning that he's deeping the kiss too. starting with a soft kiss, that's what he thougth. it feels so good having your lips on his, so good that he can't let go even though he needs to go to work. and you know that too, but oh well, you're more important, right? because the minute hongjoong pulls away and whispers kiss me more in a hoarse voice tells you that you are more important than anything.

──── ⋆˚࿔ seonghwa || comforting kisses

seonghwa is simply someone who is a comforting person in general. his prescence often makes you calm whenever something stressful is happening in your life. the tone he's talking to you never heard being mean or sour,rather calm and warm. that also goes for his kisses. he often senses you being tired from a long day, only wanting to lay down on your shared bed or couch to sleep a little in seonghwa's arms, which he gladly accepts. whenever that happens, he can't help but press kisses all over your face, your temple, the top of your head or your closed eyelids which only makes you even sleepier. the feeling of his kisses spreads warmth all over your body, snuggling closer into his arms as he keeps his lips pressed on the top of your head. he feels so lucky to have you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yunho || tingly kiss

the type of kiss that makes you want more and it leaves you feeling all tingly from yunho is just deadly. he always pulls away just before you could kiss him right back intensively, your hands still in his hair as his are steady on your waist. he smiles down at you, and then simply leaves. that's how easy it is for him, the control he has over himself making his ego even bigger when he knows how annoyed you feel at times like these. you can't help but touch your lips like in the movies, feeling your muscle still tingling in the best of the best of terms, literally still feeling his soft lips on yours. how lovingly he can press a kiss on your skin and lips, his body molding into yours to punctuate his unspoken words. in this way, not only his kiss, but his whole prescence makes you tingle with love.

──── ⋆˚࿔ yeosang || surprise kisses

yeosang isn't usually the one initiating the kiss first. he does, from time to time, but it always surprises you when he randomly kisses your temple, or your cheeks, god bless you your lips out of nowhere. even after all these years being together, still feels like it's a surprise feeling him walking up next to you or hopping down on the couch just to give you a kiss. it makes him often realize how rarely he makes the first move. it often makes him angry too, and often all those kisses are originally from him being beaten up on silly things like this. you told him once - don't be silly, i don't mind making the first move! making sure to reassure him that it really doesn't bother you. but still, it makes him want to initiate more things in your relationship, giving you everything you deserve because he loves seeing you being flustered by his sudden actions.

──── ⋆˚࿔ san || the i love yous

whispering i love you between kisses is san's specialty. doesn't matter where you are, or the circumstances. you can either be mad at him for some reason, or be in stupidly in love with him. he doesn't care, because san always wants to let you know how much he loves you. there isn't a time where he doesn't say it, or shows it to you. during cuddling or walking on the street - stopping in midsentence just to kiss you on the lips. deep, and long, feeling his emotions bored into that one single kiss. he whispers i love you when he feels like going in for a second kiss, or saying i love you so fucking much when you are both lost in a heated shared kiss which leads into multiple one.

──── ⋆˚࿔ mingi || kisses from behind

given mingi's height is easy for him to only drop his head lower and press kisses either on your shoulders, or the side of your neck. he grabs the opportunity when he sees you standing with your back to him,either doing something in the kitchen or looking at something at a supermarket. he loves walking up behind you and snaking an arm, maybe both, around your waist to pull himself closer and kiss your skin. it often makes you shiver just from his touch, feeling him behind you and hugging you from behind as he can't seem to stop pecking your exposed skin. sometimes he even murmurs I love your perfume or i missed you so much after a long day of not seeing you.

──── ⋆˚࿔ wooyoung || flustered kiss

wooyoung often sneaks kisses here and there, pressing a quick kiss before leaving on your forehead or cheeks. it doesn't matter, the only thing that matters is that he always gives you a kiss before leaving. but when he's home with you and the air is a little hotter than it should be? woo can't help himself to disattach himself off of you, your perfume pulling him in every time for more kisses and cuddles. and because of this, it often leads him kissing his way up from your wrist all the way up to your collarbones and lastly your lips. he focuses on your lips so much that by the time you two pull away you have to fight for air. he feels proud when he sees your face all flustered and red, ears burning off under his stare as he murmurs cute under his breath.

──── ⋆˚࿔ jongho || palm kisses

he's the romantic type. even if he doesn't necesseraly shows it, he is. he thinks kissing your warm palm of your hand says more i love yous than any other kisses. pressing a long, meaningful kiss in the center of your palm, all the way to your fingertips and to your knuckles feels like he's trying to erupt all the butterflies in your stomach. and he does, because you are left with the deepest shade of red on your face and chest, seeing him smirking under his breath by how cute you are. it's not unusual that he does this, he's a gentleman at heart, but you can't ever get use to him being this flirty and affectionate when it's just the two of you. kudos if he does this little moves of his infront of his friends or family with a wink in your way, you know that you'll marry this man no matter what.

a/n: if you've gotten to this point of my event, thank you so much for reading! i hope everyone had a good time, i tried to go with a more suave feeling for valentine's. ik i had a lot of fun, thank you so much for the notes and reblogs!

taglist: @arunainluv @myraet @peterm4rker @chenlezip

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.6.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, angst & smut present

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5.

word count: 8,8K (sorry!)

warnings: angst, unsafe sex, dacryphilia, spanking, d/s undertones

tag: #nothings new

author's note: It's Sunday where I am lol. No real notes, just thank you for coming with me on this journey, it's very weird to bear your soul like this and people reacting well, never happened to me before. Moments like this, I love internet. @rennethen beta read 🖤

Cross-posted on AO3

—

It took a long time for you to part on Sunday evening. You stood in the hallway, arms wrapped around Viktor, his arms wrapped around you, and only the sound of breathing surrounded you both. He pulled away first, placed a hand on your cheek, and said, “Think about everything. And let me know.”

You nodded, and a question—the answer to which you so desperately needed—was resolved before you even mustered the courage to ask.

“Come on Friday. I’ll text in the meantime? Or call?”

“I would like that,” you admitted with a relieved sigh, and Viktor offered you a kiss on the forehead. When you finally stepped out through his door, he lingered in the frame until the lift swallowed you.

The week passed in a diluted blur of working, eating, and sleeping, interrupted by little earthquakes in the form of Viktor’s messages and brief calls. Nothing with significant push or pressure—just simple, casual chats that let you know he hadn’t forgotten you, and made sure you wouldn’t forget either. And each one made your face beam in a way that earned you silly and curious “Who is that?” questions, until you were red-faced with a juvenile blush.

It happened every time your phone buzzed. You’d be in the middle of scanning through data, only half-listening to a coworker’s offhand remark, when you’d catch a glimpse of his name on the screen, and suddenly, the rest of the world blurred at the edges.

I am convinced my students are attempting to end me. I asked one of them to justify their methodology, and they said, “I just had a feeling.”

A barely suppressed laugh slipped out before you could stop it. You masked it with a cough, ignoring the glance your colleague shot you from across the table.

Another time, you’d been elbow-deep in paperwork, eyes dry from staring at the screen too long, when your phone lit up with another text:

I hope your day is going well. Eat something before you get grumpy.

You scoffed but still reached for the protein bar you’d left untouched beside your laptop.

And then there were the messages that made your stomach turn weightless, that left you pressing your lips together to fight off a giddy, ridiculous smile.

I dreamt of you last night. It was... pleasant.

It was impossible to focus after that. You stared at your screen for a full five minutes, rereading the words like they might change or disappear. Your mind whirred with possibilities, until the sound of your name snapped you back to reality and you scrambled to act as if your brain hadn’t just short-circuited.

Not once had he asked what you were thinking. Not once had he pushed beyond a sweet Goodnight call in the evening and a Good morning text when you woke up. It made the days more bearable, but it also made new questions rise. Is this trust already? Or just caution?

You faltered on Wednesday, when there was no message to greet you. And then no message to remind you to drink water.

You told yourself it was fine. That he was probably just busy. That this wasn’t some sort of test. But by lunchtime, the silence had settled too deep, turning over thoughts you didn’t want to examine. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was waiting for you to make the next move? Or worse—what if this was a quiet way of pulling away? Your sanity was wearing thin.

You weighed your options, over and over. If you texted and he didn’t answer, would calling be too much? If you called first and he didn’t pick up, at least you could still send a text after. But would that make you seem desperate?

It took another ten minutes of pacing before you finally pressed the call button, cringing at the way your heart was thundering in your chest. The dial tone felt impossibly loud. One ring. Two. Three—

“Hello?”

And just like that, the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding slipped out of you. “Hi! Oh, um… why are you whispering?” You blurted out the words in a rush, voice pitched higher than you intended.

There was a pause, followed by Viktor’s voice, low and steady, tinged with quiet amusement. “I’m in the middle of a lecture—”

“Oh shit, Viktor, I’m so sorry!” you gasped and started to whisper yourself, as if the class could hear you. You winced, clasped your hand to your forehead and hoped that Viktor didn’t hear the sound of the slap.

“—but I am happy to hear you,” he continued smoothly, the warmth in his tone easing some of the tension gripping your chest. “Let me call you after?”

And he did. And you talked about nonsense until Jayce caught Viktor twirling his hair, hunched over his desk like he was trying to hide.

This was your week—full of insignificant, annoying events that conglomerated into something called life, interrupted by small Viktor moments. And for Viktor, it was small you moments.

And even though a massive weight had been lifted off your chest during that session of helpless sobbing on the couch, nuzzled into Viktor’s neck, you still feel a pang of guilt each time you replay the events of last weekend in your head. It’s hard to pinpoint where it comes from, but it’s ever-present.

Now that it’s Friday, finally, you write it down on a piece of paper filled with bullet points for later this evening. Absolutely convinced you won’t use it, you still write every single invasive thought down—just in case you gather the courage to tell him.

Before leaving, you make a few critical last-minute decisions—hair up or down, skirt or trousers, or a dress? Makeup or none? Take extra underwear, or not tempt fate to make a joke out of you?

You end up in a dress, with no makeup, your hair gathered into a loose updo, and a wishful-thinking extra pair of knickers stuffed into your purse.

You walk to make yourself less giddy. You stop to buy some food for later, glancing nervously at your watch, only to see that you are, in fact, too early. Sitting on a bench to read is futile—you just end up staring at your phone, willing the time to pass.

And when you finally, finally buzz his door, it’s like last time—you are immediately let in, without him checking the intercom. But this time, you almost run to the elevator, jabbing the button over and over for the doors to close and carry you upward. When you step out, Viktor is already waiting by the entrance to his flat, greeting you with a quiet, sweet, “Hi,” as soon as he sees you.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first, not even the breathless hi yourself you’ve prepared. The week of waiting, of uncertainty, of second-guessing every moment—was it real? Was he real? Or was this just a fragile illusion, something too good to hold? The part of you that has spent too long in doubt tugs at your resolve, asking if you’re just imagining the warmth in his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he wants you here.

But then his fingers brush against yours as he plucks the bag from your hand, and the heat of his touch travels up your arm, quieting the noise in your head. The doubts don’t stand a chance once his hands slide up your thighs, wrapping around your waist, anchoring you to him. Your back thuds lightly against the door as he kisses you. You don’t even get a proper look at him before his mouth is on yours, his hand pulling your updo apart, fingers tangling into your hair.

Your palms clutch at his shirt and slide up his neck, pulling him closer. He muffles a quiet ah against your lips when you tug his hair and nip at his lower lip. His hips press into you, your chests flush together, and he breathes in deeply, catching up with your scent—the one he’s been missing for five days.

When he finally pulls away, he says again, “I said hi.”

“Hi yourself,” you reply, smiling sheepishly against him. You brush your thumbs over his beauty marks, and his eyes flutter closed. Your foreheads touch. Viktor looks relieved.

“I missed you,” he says, feeling stupid for admitting it—five days is nothing compared to the six months you spent apart, yet it still felt like agony. “You smell nice,” he adds, nosing at your neck, his lips curling up at the sensation of goosebumps rising under his touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper, dumbfounded by this unfiltered flood of affection. Viktor chuckles, realizing he’s overwhelming you. He moves away, and you would protest—if not for the fact that he’s still holding your hand. You squeeze it tightly, letting him lead you into the kitchen, where you watch him make tea.

“So,” Viktor starts, setting a cup in front of you before taking the seat opposite. “How was your week?”

“I—” Horrible. A blur. A very long blur. Long. Painful. “Painfully long,” you finally huff out with a chuckle, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your neck. You lower your gaze to your fidgeting fingers, and soon, in the periphery of your vision, Viktor’s hands creep in, cradling yours across the table.

“And why would that be?” he asks quietly. You don’t have to look up to know his eyes will be hooded and his mouth quirked into a sweet smile.

With a pained sigh, you pull your hands back, stand up, and in a heartbeat, you’re kneeling between his legs, resting your head on his lap, arms wrapping around his hips.

“And whatever is that for?” Viktor giggles, startled by your clinginess, unaware of the quiet, pathetic truth that you feel safest like this—between his legs, wrapped in his warmth. You breathe in the scent of his clothes and whisper, “You smell nice too. I missed you too.”

He places a hand on your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, and you inch your hands toward his belt. Slowly, his palm comes to rest over yours, halting your movement. When you lift your gaze to meet his, Viktor almost melts into a puddle at the sight of you—kneeling at his feet, eyes pleading—but he has to ask, “What is this about?”

“I just really missed you,” you say quietly, fingers twitching at his fly. “May I?”

He studies you for a moment, swipes his thumb over your lips and says a breathless, “Yes,” reinforced with a nod. And then his eyes glue to your fingers undoing his belt and tugging at his pants to slide them down all the way to his ankles, to finally discard them. And then—

Viktor’s breath hitches, but you cannot help yourself. You press your face to his boxers, breathing in his scent and it’s a gesture so full of adoration, he whimpers despite himself. You unroll his waistband and kiss him softly with your mouth open, leaving a slick trail all the way up from his base to the tip. He is still soft, his skin is warm and silky, and he shudders at each and every one of your pecks.

You slide his underwear down and make your way up, starting by kissing his knee, up his inner thigh, to finally take his balls into your mouth and hum at the contact. Viktor’s fingers curl in your hair, his legs straighten out in front of him, head falls back, and he gives out a deep, long moan.

It’s almost crushing to feel so worshipped. You’re being so gentle with him—it reminds him of your first time together. Back when things were easy, full of possibilities. Now, things are a little harder, but the possibilities keep slipping back in, one by one, with each passing minute.

He sags in the chair, eyes glazed, and cheeks reddened when he looks down to you—rubbing your face against his cock with reverence that makes him want to pull you up and kiss you until you can’t breathe. And you hum, and kiss and lick off his pre-cum for the longest time before you give him as much as an actual proper lick to his underside, tracing the prominent vein with the tip of your tongue. And Viktor twitches and writhes under your touch, his cock resting heavily across your face.

When you finally take him into your mouth he shudders, his legs jolt and he scolds himself for acting like he’s being touched for the first time. But after a second, he decides he feels safe enough—to let you touch him like this, to give you this power over him. And as if you catch that split-second hesitation in the way he tastes, you release him with a quiet pop and ask gently, “Is this alright?”

“More than alright,” Viktor slurs, his thumb sweeping over your lip again. The string of drool connecting his cock to your mouth now clings to his hand. He leaves it. “Please, don’t stop,” he adds, a blush creeping beneath his shirt.

With a smile, and God help him, another hum, you take him back in, placing your hand on whatever you can’t fit into your mouth. Viktor sighs, the sensation of being enveloped in warmth flooding over him, when you do something that nearly makes him come on the spot­—your hand flattens at the base of his cock and you push him past your throat, releasing a fresh wave of spit to drip down his length, while you gag, and the sound makes him go insane. He looks down, and oh, there it is—the first tear you shed today as you disconnect from him to catch a breath and stroke him with a slow movement of your wrist.

It’s a small tear that dries out somewhere in the middle of its journey between the corner of your eye and your chin, but it’s there nevertheless and Viktor commits it to memory. So when you kiss his tip again and open your mouth for him, he cradles your face and gives you one, languid roll of his hips. He stops to ask, “Can I?”

Your eyes flutter open, then closed, then open again. You nod, mumbling a sound as close to yes as you can manage with your mouth full, and you hope Viktor won’t retreat because you don’t want to lose the feeling of his hands cradling you and the feeling of his cock pulsing between your lips.

And, oh God, he takes it as it is. And he gives it back to you, with another thrust, careful and slow, his mouth falls open and eyes are fixed on yours. You see the vein in his neck pulsing, and you take your quick breaths through your nose each time he retreats to push back again. His cock keeps hitting the back of your throat, gently, just a touch, just enough to make your thighs clench and your knuckles go white on his thighs.

And you watch him becoming progressively prettier and prettier as sweat pearls up on his forehead and his mouth loses restraint with all the sounds he is giving you. “My good girl,” he keeps whispering. “Fuck, you are so good,” falls out next. “I love you so much, I missed this so much,” is your favourite one and makes your heart jump all the way up to meet the head of his cock in your throat.

He pants out your name, his grip tightening and the last thing that tips him over is when he sweeps your hair away from your neck to gather it in his fist. And he sees them, his own fingertips already yellowing on your skin, a faint memoir of bruises that were once there, from when he had forced you to look him in the eye while you admitted to still loving him.

“Oh, fuck,” is all Viktor can say as he spasms between your lips and spills himself inside and over, even though he wants to tell you how amazing it feels. How amazing you are, how amazing it is to fuck your mouth. How amazing it is that you shed another tear for him and that you swallowed almost all of his cum, and to convey it, he pulls you up just as he wanted earlier.

And you sit across his lap where he is still warm from your touch. And his mouth is on yours, and oh, it’s almost like the first time. The taste of him still lingers heavily on your tongue and he sucks on it with love and care and gratitude, humming and licking into you, caressing your hair and your shoulders. He kisses you like you are worthy of redemption. Finally his head falls into the crook of your neck, skin clings to skin, as he mutters, “Thank you.”

"You taste just as I remember," you say absently, the words bouncing off the shell of Viktor’s ear. Just when he thinks he cannot possibly come undone any further, you take him apart.

"What have I done to deserve this?" Viktor asks weakly, and you huff a quiet laugh at how dramatic he’s being over a blowjob. You take his face in your hands, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

"There are things I have no idea how to tell you. But you deserve this every day," you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Viktor sits there, dumbfounded, with you perched over his naked lap, foreheads touching, his pants and underwear crumpled in the middle of the kitchen. And as if your thoughts have seeped from your mind into his, understanding dawns.

"Is this your way of repenting?" he asks, trying to catch your gaze.

You say nothing, only scrunch your nose.

"Hey, look at me, please," Viktor says firmly, his fingers tilting your chin up. The warmth of his touch is steady, grounding, but not forceful. His eyes search yours, full of something unknown. "What are you trying to atone for?"

"For… everything," you sigh, pressing yourself down until you sag against him, your body moulding into his like you could dissolve there. The warmth of his skin on yours should be comforting, but it only makes the ache deeper, and you wince at your inability to express yourself.

"And yet, there is nothing," Viktor replies without hesitation. His fingers remain at your chin, keeping your gaze locked to his, as if he won’t allow you to look away, won’t allow you to slip into this spiral.

"Viktor—"

"I do mean it," he interrupts, his voice unwavering. "I do not want any of this. We start anew, sins not forgotten but cleansed. We learn, and we start over. Nothing to repent for."

"But—"

His other hand tightens around your waist, a small squeeze that grounds. "What do you feel?" he asks, softer now, but still insistent. "You have to tell me."

You hesitate. The words feel thick in your throat, soaked in self-doubt. "I—" You inhale sharply, then admit, "I feel shame. Or guilt. Or both, all the same."

"And whatever for?" Viktor presses, patient, his thumb brushing idly over your skin, a subconscious motion of reassurance.

"For how this went before, Viktor," you say, voice strained. "I see it now, and I just can’t—"

His brows pull together in concern, but he doesn’t let you trail off into silence. "What do you need to get over this?" Ever the problem-solver.

You huff out a mirthless chuckle, the sound brittle. "I don’t know. Punishment?" you say, half-joking, half-serious, but the weight in your chest doesn’t lighten. A punishment seems fitting. The insistent heat of tears pricks at your eyes, and you try to blink them away.

"I don’t think you deserve that," Viktor says immediately, voice firm, as if the thought alone is ridiculous. His hand moves to swipe the tear from beneath your eye while he does his best to remain unaffected.

"Hey—" He moves in by an inch, your stuttering breath fanning over his face. "I really don’t," he murmurs, quieter now, more to himself than to you. His grip tightens, like he needs to keep you close to not break. "We’ve changed, and it’s alright. Oh, God," he exhales, as his thumb swipes the tear from your cheek and his expression shifts from worry to adoration in an instant.

Your brows furrow, confused. "What?"

A flicker of hesitation crosses his face. He swallows. "I have my share of shame in me as well, love."

Your stomach twists at the admission. "What? Why?"

He exhales sharply, pressing his forehead to yours. His voice drops lower, as if he is giving away his best-guarded secret. "I… seem to enjoy it when you cry," he admits. "Not in the sense of enjoying your suffering," he clarifies quickly, "but somehow, being cried for, or in front of, makes me feel… loved."

"Oh, Viktor," you whisper and pull away, your hands moving instinctively to cup his face. His skin is warm beneath your touch, the sharp angles of his cheekbones softening under your fingers. "I am doing a terrible job with love confessions if you have to seek confirmation like this," you mumble, a self-deprecating huff of a laugh dancing under your nose.

Viktor shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours again, unwilling to let you part. "I disagree. I felt just as loved a minute ago." Then he exhales, long and slow. "I think… it’s just a byproduct of everything," he says carefully. "A change." He pauses, then asks, voice softer, "Does it repulse you?"

"Of course not," you answer instantly, faster than a blink. Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones, gentle, reverent. "You could never repulse me."

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, like he’s soaking in your words, like they’re something sacred. When he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that crushes you completely. "The feeling is mutual," he murmurs.

He studies you for a moment longer before speaking again. "So tell me—what do you need to overcome your shame?"

And you hesitate again. It still lingers. Creeps up to coil somewhere around your throat and you can’t possibly bring yourself to say this, can you? The most obvious stupid cliché. Not because of the act itself, but because of the nature of it. Because of the reason for it. You crave to shed it, to start anew, to get all dressed up in your fresh new skin, old one feeling to tight around your bones. But this is Viktor. And of all people, he’s the one you would ask.

So you lean in to whisper your undisclosed desire straight into his ear. "Spank me."

Viktor stills, his mouth falls open, and he covers it with his hand. Not in shock—just to think. He doesn’t let the moment linger, as his brain works fast. He cups your cheeks and sweeps his thumbs under your eyes. Takes a deep breath.

"This is your wish?"

You nod, lowering your gaze and fixing it on the space between you, but Viktor tsks at you. "I will need you to use your words for this and all the way through. Is this what you want, for sure?"

"Yes," you answer, quietly, but audibly enough for Viktor to accept.

"Alright," he says firmly, then smiles and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, sweet and lingering. "Will you pass me my pants?"

You huff out a laugh but scramble up from his lap, helping him get roughly dressed—underwear left in the kitchen—when he leads you back to the bedroom. And it’s all so very sweet. He leans on you, just like last time. Kisses your cheek and neck all the way through. You manage not to look at the empty spaces this time.

He leads you to the bed, where he sits down, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Holding your hand, he guides you to sit beside him. Without question, you do, heart all the way up in your throat.

"Alright, let’s go over this, yes?" Viktor states, as if this is a project. Safety rules, roadmap, scientific approach. He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze and smiles softly. "I will check how you are doing constantly. If you tell me to stop, I stop immediately. If, for whatever reason, you don’t feel like you can tell me, you tap my thigh three times. If you don’t like it, we never do this again. If you do, we will explore. What do you think?"

"You don’t think it’s weird?" Do you think I’m weird is truly what gnaws at you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask it. You just look at him, waiting, excited and scared.

"Of course not. Peculiar, at best," Viktor smiles again and places a flurry of kisses on your face. "Do you wish to continue?"

"Yes," you answer with more confidence now.

"Then lay across my lap, please," he says, leaning back, hands still on you—grounding and reassuring.

Air gets momentarily knocked out of your lungs when your belly presses across Viktor’s thighs. He runs a hand down your spine, finding himself strangely excited about this. The trust he asked you for last week now lay splayed across his knees—he couldn’t help but think. All he has to do is indulge you.

His hand slides down, cradling your ass. He lifts the skirt of your dress, draping it over your lower back, and runs his fingers under the hem of your underwear. Gently, soothing you with soft sounds as he does, he pulls your knickers down to your knees. Your face burns, heat prickling across your skin in goosebumps with every touch—nails grazing over the inside of your knee, up your thighs, stopping at your core. He palms your naked skin and hums once he realises you are wet.

“Good,” he murmurs, playing between your legs for a while. Your mouth parts and eyes close, while you give him quiet gasps. He spreads the wetness onto your ass cheeks and cradles your bum one last time before starting. And then, without warning, the first slap lands—firm, of medium strength—but still, you yelp in surprise.

The sensation is alien—it both hurts and doesn’t. With the mild pain comes something else, something fleeting, but you can’t quite grasp what it is. Warmth spreads across your skin, and you dig your fingers into Viktor’s thigh.

Viktor, however, receives something entirely different. Nothing flees him—something grows. Both between his legs and in his chest. He has to take a second before he asks, “How was that?”

“Good,” you reply immediately.

So he continues. Another slap echoes through the room, and Viktor watches as the imprint of his hand whitens against your skin before dissolving into pink a second later. How pretty it looks. He checks in with you again. And again, you encourage him.

Slowly, slap after slap, each one interrupted by Viktor’s questions, you feel lighter, warmer. A strange feeling of relief washes over you. At some point, your skin begins to sting, and even that is welcome. Your mouth loses restraint, and you moan each time Viktor’s palm connects with your ass. Your back arches, ribs pressing into his legs, and you feel a drop of slick rolling down your inner thigh.

So debauched. So pretty, Viktor thinks.

He can’t help himself and runs his fingers down between your legs. Gasps at the wetness pooling there. “More?” He asks, voice breathy, eyes completely transfixed on your reddened skin and he almost drools at the sight. All his doing. His hand did this. This, and the drenched state of your cunt, it’s all him.

“More,” you say weakly. The burn feels good. You feel the doubt seeping out with the warmth radiating from your skin. With each touch, something inside you feels lighter. Bigger. Like there is more of you and less of whatever had been gnawing at you.

Viktor gives you three more slaps, and when your thighs quiver with the last one, his hand comes to rest at the base of your spine. “How is that?” he asks, admiration seeping into his voice.

“I think it’s enough,” you reply in a small voice. His hand returns to your bum, a gentle caress spreading from the tops of your thighs to your hips. Slowly, you rise from his lap, only to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his skin. Viktor pulls you close, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“Thank you,” he murmurs in return. “Please, lie down on your stomach. I’ll be right back.”

You blink in quiet question but obey. Crawling onto the bed, you curl up on your side, fingers ghosting over the heat still lingering beneath your dress. When Viktor returns, the soft tap of his cane against the floor announces him, and you wonder how he got all the way to the kitchen without it.

“I said on your stomach,” he says gently, placing a hand at the small of your back. You roll over, propping your head on your crossed arms.

“Good girl,” he coos before exposing your reddened ass. The mattress dips on each side of your knees and once again you feel Viktor’s hands on you. Soft, gentle. Callouses gliding over your tired skin with care and love. He presses his face against your cheeks, holding them firmly, hums in appreciation, making your toes curl and your back arch, belly pressing into the bed. Then his mouth joins, as he licks you with a flat tongue. Lips grazing over you, the trail of open mouth kisses spreading all the way from the crease of your ass to the small of your back. You press yourself into him and bury your nose in the sheets, trying to muffle your whimpers.

 And then comes the coolness pressing against you, making you wince at the first touch. A cold compress.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Viktor whispers. His free hand comes to thread gently through your hair. You feel safe. Whole. That sense of belonging blooms within you again—stronger this time—and you are so, so glad it’s with Viktor. You sigh and close your eyes.

He lies beside you, his hand running up and down your spine. When you blink, your eyes meet. “How are you feeling?” he asks, and he looks so in love your heart is about to burst.

“Very good,” you say quietly, offering him an honest smile. You turn onto your side to face him, the compress slipping off. “Better. Empty and whole at the same time,” you murmur against his mouth, kissing him with reverence. “You?”

Viktor thinks for a second before answering. "Knowing you trust me enough to let go like this makes me feel irreplaceable," he says finally, and you are left speechless. Because he is. And it feels great that he knows.

“It’s all very new, isn’t it?” you ask finally, and Viktor gazes at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, your name falling softly from his mouth. “Nothing’s new. It’s still love.”

You nuzzle against his neck and sigh, your eyelashes tickling his skin. The last question gnawing at you slips past your lips before you can catch it.

“Do you hate me less now?”

Viktor scoffs, outright appalled. He pulls you back by the neck, forcing you to look at him, his eyes full of intent as he replies simply, “No.”

Your heart beats only once before stopping entirely. Then Viktor’s expression softens, and he speaks again.

“I never hated you. If anything, I only love you more.”

And your heart resumes beating—hard and erratic. You wrap yourself around him, letting out a shuddering breath. “God, how can this be so good now when we’ve fucked up so badly?”

Viktor picks up what you’ve put down. “Change is inevitable. Sometimes abrupt. Maybe this is where we were supposed to be to get here, miláčku.”

Oh, God. There it is again—dragged up from the pit you were hoping to forget. The one thing that once felt most dear, a treasure Viktor gave freely, only to let it slip into someone else’s hands. Now it’s tarnished, dulled with grime. It doesn’t sound sweet anymore. It tastes bitter, feels wrong. Feels like it doesn’t belong to you.

Your heart drops again. Your voice shrinks to almost nothing as you push him away and plead weakly, “Please, don’t call me that again.” Tears are already pricking at your eyes, and you wonder when you became so quick to cry.

“Wha—Why?” Viktor chuckles, trying to wrap his arms back around you, but you keep your distance, splaying your palms flat against his chest in quiet defiance. And then he sees it.

“Oh, darling. It never happened, I promise you. The note, I—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, as if you don’t already know. Your brows knit together, a tear clinging to your lashes. “It was on the note,” you try again, your voice frail with disbelief. Your lips press into a tight line, and Viktor looks so remorseful that you fear what’s coming next.

“It was on the note,” he says carefully, “because I was fully lying to you.”

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear him. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, your mouth parting—but nothing comes out. A couple of imaginary pins drop on the floor, the sound echoes in your head.

And then a sob slips through as you blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. “No. Viktor, I thought—”

“I’m so sorry.” He tries to cradle you, but you resist. “I knew it was horribly wrong as soon as I saw you that day. I regretted it in an instant, and oh,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest. He holds you tight through this last, stupid display of jealousy, doing his best to reassure you.

“I would never. I would never call anyone else that. You are the only one, I promise. It’s all yours. Please forgive me. Miláčku, please forgive me,” he pleads, pressing his face into your hair, into the crook of your neck.

You don’t respond—not with words, not yet. Your breath is shaky against his collarbone, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like you need something solid to hold onto. His heart hammers against your ear. You know he’s afraid.

Viktor shifts, pressing a kiss to your temple, lingering like he’s willing you to believe him through touch alone. His hand cradles the back of your head, his thumb brushing small, rhythmic circles at your nape.

“Please,” he whispers again, softer now, like he’s running out of words, running out of ways to reach you. “I promise it’s yours. Forever.”

“How do you know it’s forever?” you ask, voice hollowed out. That would be a gift too good to be true. Yet. You dare to have your hopes up.

Viktor winces. Your body grows pliant against him. He hooks his leg over your hip bone and nestles you close, his arm wrapping under your waist, his palm resting between your shoulder blades. His other hand cradles your cheek, his face inching closer. Your noses press together, and when Viktor speaks his quiet truth, your lips brush.

“Because loving you isn’t a feeling that fleets,” he murmurs, pouring the words into you. “It’s a condition. And I will carry it with me always, no matter what happens between us.”

Your breath hitches, and you shudder. You squeeze your eyes shut, searching for something—anything—to say. But instead, you press your salty lips to his, not in a kiss, just a press. Just to steal a breath from him.

“Come back to me,” he coaxes, his knuckles paling against your skin. “Miláčku, come back to me.”

And Viktor doesn’t really believe in any higher form of consciousness controlling the universe. The only thing he believes in is the void, that we scream into like an echo chamber, questions bouncing back to anyone who’s asking. That we only get one life and have to make the very best of it. He doesn’t believe in God, that he has called upon too many times already in the spirit of figurative speech. But if there was one thing he would pray for, it would be this.

To tether himself to you, bind himself to something real, something beyond the desperate loneliness he’s learned to live with before he’s met you. He’s been waiting and waiting for this love to fleet, and it never fucking did, no matter how hard he’s been trying to squeeze it out of himself. So, instead of praying, he offers himself to you, tries to prove in the only way he knows how that he is yours, that he will always be yours—with his needy hands that chased away your shame, with his loving eyes so honest they pierce right through you, with his hot mouth that needs, needs, needs to suck on you so his lungs could expand, and his heart could beat.

And as if gears slowly begin grinding against each other in your head, you give it all back. You kiss him—deep and messy, snot mingling with drool. Viktor sighs in relief, the taste of your tears on his tongue sealing something unspoken between you. He murmurs sweet things between breaths, hands tangling in your hair, legs hooking you closer. And he needs, needs, needs to show you how much he wants you to come back. How nothing else could ever compare. How the thought of anything else is harrowing and empty.

“So we start over,” you slice through his thoughts, stating more to yourself than to him, as if the matter has nestled in your head securely only just now.

Viktor nods brushing his nose against yours and whispers a quiet, “Yes.”

“Yes,” he says again as his shaky fingers begin to unbutton your dress. “Yes,” he breathes when his thumbs brush under your breasts and palms twitch to cup them. “Yes,” comes another murmur when his tongue meets your skin, tits squeezed together so he can lick between them, and then a moan escapes him as you slide your hands to the nape of his neck and tug at the short hair there.

Your back arches, excited and willing when the sensation of his tongue on you mingles with the sounds he makes echoing in your mind, and you breathe out a needy plea, “Do it again.”

Viktor cocks a brow, hums into your skin as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, and asks a playful muffled, “Which one?"

“Oh, God, both,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut and buck your hips against thin air, Viktor’s knee too far for you to reach. Your fingers pull at the base of his skull, and Viktor chuckles, a flush creeping up his body underneath the layers of clothing when he sinks his mouth into your breast and obeys—letting out a quiet, wrecked, “Oh, fuck,” somewhere around your heart.

His thigh finally, finally, comes to your salvation, sneaking between your legs and pressing on your core with a quiet obscene squelch. The thought of a wet stain he will get to see there makes his cock twitch painfully against the half-assed job you did of buttoning up his trousers earlier on. You breath grows short as you rub yourself on him and when a stuttered whimper escapes your mouth, Viktor huffs, “Please, do it again,” through a sharp exhale.

You tug at his hair, forcing him to look at you. "Give me a reason," you whisper in a strangled breath.

Clearly, you have no idea what you’re asking for. The cry that escapes you when his knee retreats is, to say the least, embarrassing. The sound transforms into a quiet gasp, when his hands leave your chest, one finger slides through your slit and Viktor hums, so, so pleased with you, “Baby, look how wet you are.”

“So wet for me, my girl,” he coos, and he sounds almost too grateful as his lips come back to kiss you, and a gush of cold air fans over your nipples. He palms your sickly heat, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit and you blink rapidly as your eyes roll back in your skull. Your hands fumble blindly to unbutton his shirt in a need press yourself flush against him.

And you do a very poor job, jolting and pulling at his buttons whenever Viktor’s hand parts you and his fingers tease your entrance, so his other hand comes to help you, undoing what you can’t with an ease that has you huffing. It’s annoying that he can do two things at once, while you clearly cannot. Your sulking doesn’t last very long, because as soon as his naked chest is free to be roamed, you leech yourself to his collarbone and suck a red glaring love mark into it.

Yours. All yours.

And Viktor slips, figuratively and literally, as his head instinctively falls back to grant you full access to his neck and his two fingers push inside you, where you are so, so hot it almost burns him. As if the mark on his neck wasn’t red enough, you bite on it, trying to muffle a groan. Viktor has nothing to muffle his groan on, so you can feel it crawling up his throat and vibrating under your lips.

When his fingers push in further, the only gesture you can muster is to hook your hands over the waistband of his trousers, mouth choking on his neck. You pull his pants down and he hisses as the material hooks over his cock before it springs back to slap heavily against his lower abdomen. You try to distract yourself by sliding your palms flat up and down the slope of his sharp hips, but it’s futile once Viktor buries his fingers knuckle deep and curls them brushing the sensitive spot within you. He twitches as you moan. Precum leaks out of his slit. No thoughts cross your head, only impressions. Only want and need.

You can’t decide which one it is—want or need—when your fingers wrap around his length and rub whatever weeps at the tip all over the head. He’s silky and heavy in your hand as you trace your favourite vein with the tip of your finger.

“Oh, God,” Viktor whimpers to the imaginary being again, pumping you with a stuttering rhythm of his wrist. Feeling every crevice of your cunt, he pulls you in for a kiss and you no longer know where he ends, and you begin. Attached by the mouth, his hand deep inside you, your needy wanting hands on him, just drawing gasps and moans from each other.

He has to retreat to pull his pants further down and has an audacity to chuckle when you whine in protest. His hand leaves you drawing a wet sound and your thighs fall back together with a sticky smack. “So impatient,” he hums, while doing a shitty job of undressing himself, kicking off one leg of his pants, while the other still entangles around his calf. He hooks his freed leg over your hip, takes his cock from you and aligns it at your entrance. You are completely wrapped around each other—leg pressing on leg, arms hooked around necks, fingers adding to already damp hair.

“Do you want me?” he asks, pressing his cock against your clit, hard. You tie up into thousands of knots, trying to suck him in by the force of your sheer will when you see the question is honest. He really wants to know. Eyes pensive, hooded, mouth parted. So you kiss this mouth, bite his lips until he hisses and breathe into him, “I want you, fuck, I want you.”

A silent moan rips through him, as he enters you, inch after painful inch until you can feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock against your walls. At this point you are just clashing mouths and teeth in something that once was a kiss. He fills more of you than was empty as you lose control of the clenching and unclenching of your own muscles. A quiet ah falling from him dies in the sound of a slap as your hips slot together.

He stills for a moment, buried deep, and you swear you can feel his pulse inside you, thrumming in time with your own. Chest to chest, forehead to forehead, he exhales heavily through his nose, his grip on you tightening. And then he moves.

Your mouth falls open so wide your jaw aches, breaths intermingle, brows knit together. Viktor's hands anchor around your ass as he thrusts into you, slow and deep, each movement pounding the shape of his cock into your core. You arch against him, offering yourself, giving him everything you have. Your fingers twist in his hair, and the moment you tug, he groans—a low, breathy sound that coils something filthy at the base of your spine as your skin slaps against his.

And Viktor feels himself melting against your lips, inside you, as your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around him. He loses control of his hands—they just roam, fisting at your dress, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he sinks deeper, hitting a spot that has you gasping hiccupped breaths straight into his mouth. He pants, struggling not to be the one who falls first, trying not to look, not to think about your clumped eyelashes, the tears that he is fucking out of you. He tries not to think about how every slap of his hips against yours must echo across your poor ass, how pleasure and pain must be bleeding together inside you.

But it just feels so fucking good for you. Every roll of his hips is a reminder of how his fingers sank into your skin not long ago, heat pouring out of you in waves. You don’t move anymore—it’s only Viktor’s sloppy, determined thrusts guiding you toward the edge. You cross your eyes to focus on his parted lips, the beauty marks dusting his cheek and lip, and when his breath fans over your face, you let your lashes flutter closed, surrendering to it. Letting it build, slow and aching, every deep stroke tightening the coil inside you until you’re cramping around him.

“Fuck,” Viktor pants as you curl into him, whining his name into the crook of his neck, fighting the urge to bite down on his tendon. Your thighs squeeze tight around him, and your cunt grips him like a vice, milking him as you finally break apart. You spasm and clench around him, neck wrenched and jaw tight as you try to catch a breath through your silent shout and it’s almost impossible for Viktor to move in the tightness you’ve created. His sweat drips onto your cheeks, and, at last, he can stop holding back.

He curls his arms around you and rolls you over, pressing you down with his weight. Adding gravity to every snap of his hips, his stomach cramps more and more with each desperate thrust as he fucks you through the aftershocks, chasing his own undoing. His mouth hangs open against yours when he holds you tight enough for his fingertips to whiten, bruises already threatening to bloom where he grips. “I’m so close,” he whispers on a breath, and you thought it impossible, but you clench even tighter at the sound of his strained voice. And when he cums, it’s with a wrenched-out grunt, his head buried in your neck, his body trembling against you.

A few stuttering jolts of his hips, spilling his seed deep inside you, and the sensation of being filled, of being utterly his, has you moaning one last time, spent and breathless. Eyes unseeing, mouth touching mouth when he falls on top of you and just stays.

And then, nothing, for a moment, only your damp stomachs rising and falling against each other.

Until Viktor is the one to move first. He pulls out, his cum spilling from you onto the sheets with a wet spurt, and rolls onto his back, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. A shuddery breath escapes him as he presses a hand to his chest.

“Viktor?” you say softly, gliding an open palm over his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what—” he croaks, then pulls you in, guiding your head to rest against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your ear, his breath uneven, and when you lift your chin to look at him, you catch the glistening trail of a tear slipping down his cheek, barely visible.

And Viktor has no idea what came over him. He has no idea whether this is a stupid way of paying back his debt to you or is it just a surge of affection that he cannot hold in, but it feels strangely freeing to pour all this fear into a wet breath. Or maybe his fucked out brain just can’t keep up with the bliss, he doesn’t know.

Gently, you tug his arm away from his face, nuzzling into him as you whisper, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” You press a soft kiss to his lips, and he exhales shakily, like he’s been holding something in for far too long. And to come undone like this is completely unlike for Viktor. You are fairly sure you’ve never seen him cry before, though you’ve heard the legends. And now they all come true, before your very eyes and even though you feel nothing close to arousal watching him spill his emotions over, the feeling you do have in your chest is about to make it burst, nevertheless.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing you back through an embarrassed chuckle. “I guess something is new after all.”

“Don’t apologize, please,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose into the hollow of his cheek. “I love this.”

Viktor offers a smile and a squeeze to your neck. Wordlessly, you fall into each other, arms tightening, bodies entwining. The roam of your hands slowly dying to settle on each other’s hollows. The scent of sweat and warmth heavy between you, intermingling, blending—just as you do.

And even though all of this looks hurried and disorganised—your dress half undone, his pants tangled around one leg, brace slid down from his knee, shirt twisted around him, cold compress melting away, dampening his sheets—it feels right. And as you rest against him, your heart slowing in tandem with his, you think of how this is both familiar and new. How you’ve shed the bad and kept the good. How it’s all very fucking new and exciting and frightening, but it’s good, because it’s with Viktor.

At some point, the sun has set as you both drift into sleep. Heavy breaths, calm, bodies still half-clothed. Your dress has rolled all the way up, exposing your lower half, and Viktor, with sleep-ridden hands, pulls it down before throwing a blanket over you both. No dreams interrupt you, only the damp cloister of your shared aftermath.

He’s closed his eyes a second ago, and when he opens them again, the night has turned into a blue morning. No sun yet, but the dark already pales. Carefully, he shuffles from between your legs, pressing the soles of his feet to the wooden floor, blindly reaching for his cane. Then, takes a long breath. His knee is aching—a faint, but present feeling. Slightly annoying. Managable.

He discards his pants to the floor, the outline of the fly buttons pressed into the skin of his calf after clinging to it the whole night. He glances over his shoulder—you, fast asleep, hair clumped into a tangled mess spilling over his pillow. Mouth open, soft breaths coming in and out, the faintest sound nestling in his mind. His hand hovers over your cheek as he dusts away a stray eyelash. Moments pass as he just looks.

Quietly, he stands and expands himself into a slow stretch. Breathes out long and heavy. Then, half-naked, walks toward the kitchen. And there—his underwear on the floor. Two cups resting on the table. He puts his cup in the sink and reaches for yours—half-drunk tea, a once-wet, now dried-out ring left behind. He smiles.

Nothing’s new, comes the thought.

He drinks your cold tea and puts the kettle on.

[solitablvd]

Slowing Down

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Summary: When Arthur spots you asleep under an oak tree, he is drawn to the peaceful scene and sketches you in his journal. Leaving the sketch beside you, he departs. When you awaken, you find the drawing signed "A. Morgan" and set out to find the mysterious artist.

A/N: Finally wrote something for Arthur omg! This is super short and pure fluff, but I had it in my mind and needed to get it out there <3 Thank you for reading!

Words: 1.1k

Ao3 Link

Arthur rode swiftly through the open fields of West Elizabeth, the afternoon sun sinking low against the horizon. The wind against his skin, the golden light in his eyes—it all filled him with a quiet sense of calm. Out here, away from the gripping hand of civilization, he could breathe. The open land gave him hope, hope that he could hold onto this feeling of freedom forever. Riding far and fast was his escape.

Deer skipped alongside him, their movements effortless, while cattle grazed undisturbed as he passed on by. It was a glimpse of the world as it once was, before things began to change. Then, in the distance, a flash of white caught his eye—a dress, stark against the sun-drenched field. Beneath the sprawling limbs of an old oak tree, you lay still, having drifted to sleep while resting from your own long ride.

Arthur slowed his horse down, reining it in as he drew closer. Something about the scene held him in place, a pull he knew well. Your horse was hitched nearby, your body slumped gently against the tree’s trunk. The sight of you— your hair loosely framing your soft features, your hands resting delicately, your chest rising and falling in the rhythm of slumber—stirred a familiar kind of nostalgia within him.

Whenever he felt this way, there was only one thing to do.

He reached into his satchel, pulling out his journal and pencil. Dismounting his horse and taking a seat in the field, he began to sketch the scene before him, his hand moved instinctively. He started with the mighty old oak tree and the mountain range behind you, then worked his way to the smallest details—the strands of hair caught in the breeze, the way the afternoon light kissed your gentle skin.

And for a little while, Arthur was able to forget the weight of the world closing in on him.

When he was satisfied enough, he carefully tore the page from his journal. He stood, walking closer to you and being mindful not to make any noise. Your horse gave a soft neigh at his approach, and he offered a quiet hush, resting a hand briefly on its neck before kneeling beside you. He placed the torn out paper beside you.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching the way the fading sunlight draped across your skin, the peaceful rise and fall of your breath. A quiet nostalgia settled in his chest, a feeling he didn’t quite have a name for.

Tipping his hat toward you, he turned back to his horse. “Let’s go, girl,” he murmured, swinging into the saddle. With a click of his tongue, he rode off into the golden horizon.

As the hoofbeats faded into the distance, you began to stir. Blinking against the sun’s light, you sat up, wondering how long you had napped for. Your horse gave a neigh to where the hoofbeats had continued to fade. You turned just in time to see the figure disappear into the setting sun.

Your brows furrowed, but you turned your attention back to yourself, looking down beside you and the worn paper. Picking it up, you traced the lines— it was you, sleeping peacefully under the oak tree. The sketch was rushed, yet delicately detailed. The details were soft yet very intentional, every shadow, every strand of hair etched with a quiet care.

At the bottom of the page, in rough cursive handwriting, a signature: A. Morgan

A smile played at your lips as you read the name; whoever this was, he had seen you, truly seen you in a way that no one had before.

You tucked the page into your satchel carefully and stood. Determined to find this mysterious artist, you mounted your horse and trotted down the path the stranger had taken.

When you finally reached Valentine, you entered the bar at the center of the small town, asking the barkeep if he knew anyone with the last name Morgan.

“Morgan, huh?” The barkeep scratched the stubble on his chin, “Yeah, I seen him ‘round. He’s passed by here before, not sure where he is now though.” He shrugged.

You sighed, feeling slightly defeated you took back the paper from his hand. Arthur Morgan. You thought as you traced over the signature. At least you had a name.

As you stepped out of the saloon, the cool night air brushed against your skin. With the sun gone and the moon out, the streets of Valentine had grown much quieter, only the muffled noises from the saloon filling the air. With the sketch in hand, you almost began to walk when movement from the corner of your vision caught your eye.

There, just outside the general store sat a man on a worn wooden bench, one leg stretched out, the other bent as he leaned forward, using the light from the lamppost to look down at his journal. He was writing quickly, focused on jotting down his thoughts.

“Arthur Morgan?” You asked, your voice steady.

He looked up from his journal, “That depends. Who’s ask—” Before he could finish, a wave of realization came over him. His face softened as he came to recognize you: the woman from the field. He sat up in his seat, looking up at you with a hint of surprise in his gaze.

You held out the sketch to him, “You draw this?”

Arthur’s gaze dropped to the sketch in your hand, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a soft chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured softly.

“Didn’t think you’d come trackin’ me down over it,” he continued, voice low.

You shrugged, silently staring back down at the sketch and wishing you had used the ride over here to think about what to say to him. In all honesty you weren’t sure why you’d tracked him down either, “Why’d you draw it?”

“You ever see somethin’ that just… sticks with you?” He glanced up at you, your eyes finally connecting. His eyes were tired, but not in a way that sleep could fix; like he was carrying more weight than he cared to admit. Then, Arthur exhaled through his nose and finished, “That was one of those moments.”

“Well thank you,” You spoke, taking the seat beside him on the wooden bench, “for the drawing.”

Arthur gave a nod, unsure how to respond to your gratitude. No one had ever intentionally sought him out for something like this before. He leaned back in his seat beside you, inhaling deeply, letting the quiet settle between you. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about where to run off to or the troubles waiting for him back at camp. Instead, he just sat there, grounded in the present—alongside someone worth slowing down for.

[saebyeokbliss]

could u do a fic of saebyeok in college, but she sells drugs. Only cocaine, marijuana, and ecstasy. She does it so she can take care of cheol ofc. Saebyeok is also known to be a hoe. Constantly flirting with girls around campus so they can buy wtv drugs she has, sleeping w girls and then treating them like the don’t exist the next day. Yet saebyeoks fast life came to a complete stop when she met you. A shy girl who’s very clever. Saebyeok noticed a guy hitting on u w u visibly uncomfortable so saebyeok came to rescue you. After she asked if u had any money to buy some drugs off her to which you said you did’nt. Saebyeok asked if u smoked. The truth is you didn’t, you hated all drugs. It was embarrassing ur a 21 yr virgin hanging around saebyeok who has had her head in between a fair share of womens legs. Any ways you and saebyeok become fwb (friends w benefits). She acts like she doesnt like you,she says you guys are only using eachother to get off. She’s not entirely wrong but what happens when u both start developing feelings and saebyeok tells u a bit abt her personal life when shes high?

(Can we pretend saebyeok is 22 and reader is 21 🙏)

-💝( still dk if ur doing emoji anons it’s ok if not! No pressure)

ALL THE STARS

pairing: dealer!college au!kang sae-byeok x fem!reader synopsis: kang sae-byeok had a reputation around your college. the dealer, the girl who could get anyone she wanted. however, just like anyone else, she had a past and a life beyond what people called her. and you just happened to be the one to change her. warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, illness, past trauma, drug use (past), recovery themes, slow burn, emotional moments, hurt/comfort

a/n: had this one brewing for while hehe

The red ink on the paper burned into your vision, each stroke of the professor’s pen a reminder of your failure.

72%.

It wasn’t failing, not technically, but for you? It may as well have been. You had always prided yourself on your intelligence, on your ability to stay ahead of the curve. But this? This was unacceptable.

Slumping in your seat, you shoved the paper into your bag, avoiding the pitiful glances from classmates who knew how much this would bother you. As soon as the lecture ended, you all but stormed out of the hall, only stopping when a familiar voice called after you.

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Ji-min grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop. Her brows furrowed as she studied your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You exhaled sharply. “I bombed the exam.”

Ji-min blinked. “Wait—bombed?” She scoffed. “What’d you get, a 90?”

“…72.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprise before she quickly schooled her expression into something more neutral. “Okay, so not your best, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“It feels like it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Ji-min sighed, looping her arm through yours as she led you out of the building. “You need to relax. You’ve been overworking yourself for weeks, and it’s catching up to you. It’s just one test, and you’ll bounce back—like you always do.”

You didn’t respond, letting her drag you along as you sulked in silence. Ji-min was probably right, but that didn’t make you feel any better.

“Which is exactly why,” she continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “you’re coming to the party tonight.”

You groaned. “Ji-min—”

“Nope. No arguing.” She tightened her grip on your arm. “You need a night to unwind. And don’t even try to say you have studying to do.”

“I do, though,” you huffed.

“You always do.” Ji-min shook her head. “But just this once, let yourself breathe. Have a little fun. You don’t even have to drink—just come, dance a little, talk to people. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because that’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Yes, actually.” She grinned. “A distraction.”

You frowned, hesitating. The idea of going to a crowded, sweaty party wasn’t exactly appealing, but… maybe Ji-min had a point. Maybe you did need a night to forget about everything—just for a little while.

“…Fine,” you relented, sighing.

Ji-min squealed in victory, squeezing your arm excitedly. “You won’t regret it.”

You had a feeling you just might.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, second-guessing every single choice you had made for the night.

The black miniskirt hugged your waist just right, and the red lace top was a little more revealing than what you usually went for, but Ji-min had insisted that you “embrace your hotness.” Paired with delicate white lace socks and Mary Janes, you looked… cute. Maybe even really cute.

But was it you?

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Come on, let me see you!” Ji-min’s voice rang through your small apartment.

You sighed, smoothing down your skirt before stepping out. Ji-min’s eyes widened the moment she saw you, a grin stretching across her lips.

“Oh my God.” She grabbed your hands and spun you around. “You look adorable—but also kinda sexy? It’s giving ‘innocent but could ruin lives.’” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being correct.” Ji-min smirked, looping her arm through yours as she led you toward the door. “Come on, let’s go before you change your mind.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. The bass of whatever rap song was playing vibrated through the walls, and the air smelled like a mix of alcohol, weed, and sweat. People were packed into the house, some dancing, some making out in corners, and others just drunkenly shouting over the music.

You hesitated in the doorway, already overwhelmed.

Ji-min, on the other hand, was in her element.

“Alright, I’m gonna go kick some ass in Apateu,” she said, referring to the drinking game she was obsessed with. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine, yeah? Just get a drink, talk to people. You look too good to be standing alone all night.”

Before you could protest, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with a wave.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall, feeling out of place. You weren’t much of a drinker, and you weren’t interested in hooking up with some stranger, so what were you even doing here?

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when someone stepped into your personal space.

“Hey,” a voice drawled.

You blinked up at the guy standing way too close to you. He was tall, decently attractive, but the cocky smirk on his face made you uneasy.

“You here alone?” he asked, his eyes shamelessly roaming over you.

You shifted uncomfortably. “No, I’m with a friend.”

He chuckled, taking a sip of whatever was in his red cup. “Haven’t seen you at one of these before. You new?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Just don’t go to parties much.”

“Makes sense. You seem… different from the usual crowd.” His smirk widened as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “In a good way.”

You forced a polite smile, wishing Ji-min would miraculously reappear and drag you away.

“So, you wanna dance?” he asked, stepping closer.

You took a step back, your heart starting to race—not in a good way. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“Oh, come on.” He reached out, fingers brushing your arm. “Just one dance.”

Your stomach twisted. You weren’t scared, not exactly, but the way he was looking at you, like you were something to be convinced, made you uneasy.

And then—

A voice, smooth and slightly amused, cut through the tension.

“She said no.”

You turned your head, and there she was.

Kang Sae-byeok.

You had seen her around campus before—everyone had. She was infamous. Mysterious, sharp-eyed, and always carrying that lazy smirk that made girls fall at her feet, only to be discarded by morning. She was trouble, the kind of trouble that came wrapped in leather jackets and cigarette smoke, the kind that left a mess in its wake.

And right now, she was looking at the guy in front of you like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“She said no,” Sae-byeok repeated, her voice firm, yet almost bored, like she had dealt with this kind of thing a hundred times before.

The guy scoffed, his grip on his drink tightening. “And who the hell are you?”

Sae-byeok tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes glinting under the dim party lights. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you back the fuck off.” She took a step closer, her presence alone enough to shift the energy in the air.

The guy hesitated, glancing between you and Sae-byeok, clearly debating whether it was worth pushing his luck. He must have decided against it because he let out an annoyed huff and muttered, “Whatever,” before disappearing into the crowd.

You exhaled, realizing you had been holding your breath.

“You okay?” Sae-byeok asked, her gaze flickering to yours.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

She studied you for a moment, then smirked. “He bothering you before I showed up?”

“Kind of,” you admitted, shifting on your feet. “He wouldn’t take the hint.”

Sae-byeok hummed, like she had expected that answer. “Guys like him are everywhere,” she muttered. Then, her smirk widened slightly. “Good thing you’ve got me, huh?”

You blinked. “I—uh—”

She chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered expression. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.” Her eyes flicked over your outfit, and she let out a low whistle. “Didn’t know girls like you came to these parties.”

You frowned. “Girls like me?”

She shrugged. “You just seem… different.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “Ji-min dragged me here,” you admitted.

“Ah.” Sae-byeok nodded knowingly. “That makes sense.”

You raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked. “That you don’t really belong here.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught between offense and curiosity. “And you do?”

Sae-byeok chuckled, but there was something unreadable in her expression. “More than you think.”

Before you could ask what she meant, she leaned in slightly, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cigarettes and something sweet—maybe perfume, maybe something else.

“You got any money?” she asked, voice low.

You blinked, confused by the sudden shift. “What?”

“For a little something to take the edge off.” She smirked, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Coke, weed, molly—I’ve got whatever you need.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t do drugs. You didn’t even drink.

“I don’t—” You hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t do that stuff.”

Sae-byeok raised a brow, clearly surprised. “Really?”

You nodded.

She studied you for a second before her smirk returned, this time softer, almost teasing. “Cute.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—I should probably find Ji-min.”

Sae-byeok chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated for a moment before turning to walk away, but you barely took two steps before her voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

Sae-byeok tilted her head, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. “See you around, yeah?”

You swallowed hard. “…Yeah.”

And with that, you disappeared into the party, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason than before.

The children’s home was always quieter than you expected.

You had been coming here for nearly a year now, visiting your little sister, Yu-jin, whenever you could. And yet, every time you stepped through those doors, the sterile stillness of the place made your chest tighten.

Yu-jin’s face lit up the moment she saw you, her small frame practically tackling you in a hug. “Unnie!”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around her. “Hey, baby. Did you miss me?”

She pulled back just enough to pout up at you. “Obviously.”

Your heart ached. She was only eight, still too young to really understand why she was here, why your parents—if they could even be called that—had decided she was too much to take care of. But she understood enough to know that you were the only one who still came back for her.

You spent the next hour with her, playing board games, helping her braid the hair of one of her dolls, and listening to her ramble about the latest school drama—who stole whose eraser, who got in trouble for talking too much, and how she definitely deserved extra dessert at lunch today.

It was a small escape, a moment where you could pretend things were normal.

But eventually, visiting hours started to wind down, and you had to say goodbye.

Yu-jin clung to your waist as you knelt in front of her. “You’ll come back soon, right?”

You smiled, brushing some hair out of her face. “Of course. I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

She huffed. “Too late for that.”

Your chest tightened again, but you just pressed a kiss to the top of her head before gently prying her arms from around you. “Be good, okay?”

She nodded reluctantly, stepping back as one of the caretakers came to usher her inside.

You watched until she was out of sight before turning to leave, your heart heavy.

And that’s when you saw her.

Kang Sae-byeok.

She was walking down the hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of her oversized hoodie, her face unreadable. But what caught your attention wasn’t just her—it was the fact that she had just come from the same visiting area you had.

For a moment, she didn’t see you. But then, just as she was about to walk past, her dark eyes flickered up and met yours.

Recognition flashed across her face—followed immediately by something else. Something guarded.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe a simple “hi,” maybe a question about why she was here, but before you could get a word out, she brushed past you without a single glance back.

No smirk. No teasing remark. Nothing.

Just silence.

You stood there, stunned, watching as she disappeared through the exit like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

And for the first time since meeting her, you saw a version of Sae-byeok that had nothing to do with her reputation, with the confident, untouchable girl who flirted with strangers and sold drugs like it was second nature.

This was something else entirely.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it.

You really needed to start saying no to Ji-min.

Another party, another night of being dragged into a place where you didn’t belong. The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and weed, and bodies moved together in a sweaty, chaotic rhythm.

You sighed, nursing the same half-empty cup of soda you had been holding for the past twenty minutes. Ji-min had already disappeared into some drinking game, leaving you to lean against the wall, watching the party unfold around you.

And then—

A familiar voice, smooth and teasing, cut through the noise.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

You turned your head, heart stuttering for half a second.

Sae-byeok.

She was dressed in her usual effortless way—baggy jeans, a fitted black top, and her signature leather jacket slung over her shoulders. But it wasn’t just her presence that caught you off guard.

It was the fact that this time, she was actually talking to you.

“I could say the same about you,” you shot back, raising a brow.

Sae-byeok smirked. “Pretty sure that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “What do you want?”

She tilted her head like she was considering something, her dark eyes scanning over you in a way that made your skin heat. “Maybe just some company.”

You blinked. “You? Want my company?”

She chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you. “Yeah, why not?”

You hesitated. After what happened at the children’s home, you half-expected her to keep avoiding you. But now, here she was, acting like that moment had never happened. Like she hadn’t practically run past you without a word.

Maybe it was better not to ask.

So instead, you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Fine. But I’m not drinking, so if you’re trying to—”

“I don’t care about that,” she interrupted, smirk still in place. “Just talk to me.”

And so, you did.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow, you and Sae-byeok ended up spending the rest of the party together. She wasn’t as closed-off as you’d expected—she was sarcastic, quick-witted, and had a way of making you laugh without even trying.

She also had a way of making you nervous.

Because the longer you talked, the closer she got. A hand on your waist as she leaned in to hear you better. Fingers brushing against your arm, her breath warm against your ear when she made a teasing remark.

By the time you realized what was happening, it was already too late.

You wanted her.

And she knew it.

Which was probably why, an hour later, you found yourself pressed against your apartment door, Sae-byeok’s lips hot against yours.

You barely remembered how you got there. One second, she was murmuring something about leaving the party, and the next, her hands were on you, her jacket discarded somewhere on the floor as she kissed you like she had been waiting all night for it.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, a soft gasp escaping you when she pressed her body flush against yours. She tasted like cigarettes and something sweet, something undeniably her.

“This okay?” she murmured against your lips, her hands slipping under your shirt, warm against your skin.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

That was all she needed.

The rest of the night blurred together in a haze of soft moans and tangled sheets, of Sae-byeok’s lips against your skin, her hands exploring every inch of you like she was mapping out something she planned to return to.

And when it was over, when you were both spent and lying in the quiet of your room, you half-expected her to leave.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she lay next to you, her breathing steady in the dim light. Not touching, not speaking. Just existing in the same space.

It felt like something shifted in the air between you.

Something unspoken.

Something neither of you were ready to acknowledge.

Not yet.

The thing about sleeping with Kang Sae-byeok was that it didn’t just stay in your apartment.

It bled into your everyday life—subtle but unmistakable.

At school, it was the way her hand would brush against your waist when she passed by in the hallway, her fingers just barely ghosting over the fabric of your skirt before she was gone. It was the way she’d smirk at you across the library, eyes dark with implication, as if daring you to recall exactly what she had done to you the night before.

It was in the stolen moments between classes, when she’d pull you into an empty classroom or an abandoned stairwell, pressing you against the wall with her lips on your neck, her hands slipping under your shirt just long enough to leave a mark—something only the two of you knew was there.

Yet no one ever caught on.

Not Ji-min, who still dragged you to parties without realizing you had already found the ultimate distraction. Not your professors, who had no idea that the reason you were sometimes a little dazed in class was because Sae-byeok had been between your legs just an hour before.

And certainly not the girls who still fell for Sae-byeok’s effortless charm, unaware that no matter how much she flirted, no matter how many lingering glances she gave them, she always ended up in your bed.

But if anyone should have noticed, it was Chae-won.

Chae-won was one of Sae-byeok’s old hookups—one of many, from what you had heard. She was also a regular customer, which was probably why she was currently pressed up against Sae-byeok outside of one of the campus buildings, whispering something in her ear.

You weren’t close enough to hear, but you didn’t need to.

You could tell exactly what was happening.

Sae-byeok, however, looked… bored.

She handed Chae-won a small baggie—probably molly, maybe coke—and took the cash in exchange, slipping it into her pocket without a word.

Chae-won, clearly expecting more, leaned in closer, her fingers trailing down Sae-byeok’s arm. “Come on, babe,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to catch. “It’s been a while.”

Sae-byeok didn’t even hesitate.

“No.”

Chae-won blinked. “What?”

Sae-byeok sighed, stepping back slightly. “You got what you wanted,” she said, nodding toward the baggie in Chae-won’s hand. “Now go.”

Chae-won’s expression twisted into something almost petulant. “So that’s it? You’re just done with me?”

Sae-byeok’s gaze was flat. “Yeah.”

For a second, Chae-won looked like she might argue, but then she scoffed, shoving the drugs into her pocket. “Whatever,” she muttered before turning on her heel and stalking away.

Sae-byeok watched her go, her expression unreadable. Then, as if sensing your gaze, she glanced up—directly at you.

You raised a brow.

She smirked.

And just like that, she was walking toward you, slipping her hands into her pockets like nothing had happened.

The room was quiet except for the occasional hum of traffic outside your window and the soft rustling of sheets as Sae-byeok shifted beside you.

She was staying the night again.

It had started as just another hookup, another night tangled in each other, breathless and flushed against the sheets. But now, hours later, she was still here, lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she took another hit from the joint she had rolled earlier.

You watched as she exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily in the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re gonna stink up my room,” you muttered, but there was no real annoyance in your voice.

Sae-byeok smirked, turning her head to look at you. “You say that like I haven’t already.”

You rolled your eyes, but she wasn’t wrong. The scent of weed mixed with the lingering traces of sweat and sex—of her—was all over your sheets.

You expected her to just enjoy her high in silence, like she usually did. But tonight, something was different.

Because tonight, Sae-byeok started talking.

“You ever think about how fucked up everything is?” she mused, her voice slightly hazy from the weed.

You blinked. “That’s… vague.”

She chuckled, but there was something bitter underneath it. “I mean life. How some people just get fucked over from the start while others have everything handed to them.” She took another drag, then exhaled. “I used to think I could change that. Like, if I worked hard enough, I could make things better.”

You stayed quiet, sensing something deeper in her words.

Sae-byeok let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “But that’s bullshit. No matter how hard you work, if you’re born at the bottom, you stay at the bottom—unless you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

You swallowed, watching the way her fingers tightened slightly around the joint.

“That’s why I do what I do,” she continued, staring at the ceiling again. “Selling, stealing, fucking people over if I have to. Because no one’s ever given a shit about me or my brother, so why should I play by the rules? The rules were never made for people like us.”

Her voice cracked slightly on that last part, and your chest ached.

You had known—or at least suspected—that her life wasn’t easy. But hearing it from her, hearing the raw frustration, the exhaustion, the pain in her words… it was different.

You hesitated before reaching out, gently taking the joint from her fingers and setting it aside in the ashtray.

She turned her head toward you, blinking slowly, her pupils blown wide from the high.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

Sae-byeok scoffed, but it lacked her usual sharpness. “Maybe I’m too high to shut up.”

You studied her for a moment before murmuring, “Or maybe you just don’t want to be alone with it anymore.”

She didn’t say anything, but the way her jaw tightened told you enough.

You moved closer, hesitantly brushing your fingers over hers. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she turned onto her side, her dark eyes searching yours, something vulnerable flickering beneath the usual guardedness.

Then, suddenly, her lips were on yours.

It wasn’t like your usual kisses.

This wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a means to an end. This was slow, deep, desperate in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with something neither of you were ready to name.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer, grounding her.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m here for you,” you murmured. “Not just for this. For you.”

Sae-byeok tensed slightly, like she wasn’t sure how to process that.

But then, after a long moment, she exhaled and pressed her lips to yours again—softer this time.

The children’s home always had a certain stillness to it, but today, it felt different. Heavier.

You had barely stepped through the doors when the head caretaker, Mrs. Park, approached you, her expression unusually serious.

“Ah, you’re here,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

Your stomach twisted. “Is Yu-jin okay?”

Mrs. Park hesitated, and that hesitation alone was enough to make your heart drop.

“She hasn’t been feeling well lately,” she admitted gently. “Nothing too alarming, but she’s been fatigued, hasn’t had much of an appetite, and she’s been getting a lot of bruises.”

You frowned. “Bruises?”

“She says she doesn’t remember how she got them,” Mrs. Park continued, concern etched into her features. “Normally, I’d assume it’s just roughhousing with the other kids, but… I think it would be best if you took her to a doctor.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Yu-jin was small, but she was tough. She rarely got sick, and when she did, she never complained about it.

If she was acting off, then something was really wrong.

“I’ll take her,” you said immediately. “I’ll call around and see if I can get an appointment for her soon.”

Mrs. Park nodded, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “She’s in the playroom. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You forced a smile, but your mind was already racing.

You didn’t have much money. Your parents had made sure of that when they dumped Yu-jin at the home and left you to fend for yourself. You could probably scrape together enough for a basic check-up, but if something more serious was going on…

You swallowed hard. You couldn’t think like that. Not yet.

Taking a steadying breath, you made your way to the playroom.

Yu-jin’s face lit up the moment she saw you, but as she ran toward you, you noticed it.

She looked pale. Too pale. And when she threw her arms around you, she felt too light, like she had lost weight since your last visit.

“Unnie!” she chirped, but her voice had a slight rasp to it.

You pulled back slightly, trying to keep the worry off your face. “Hey, baby,” you murmured, brushing some hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“Mrs. Park said you’ve been tired a lot,” you pressed gently.

Yu-jin pouted. “I just get sleepy. And my legs feel weird sometimes.”

Your stomach clenched.

You needed to get her to a doctor. Soon.

But how the hell were you going to afford it?

And Sae-byeok wasn’t stupid.

She noticed things.

She noticed the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you greeted her. The way your responses were shorter, more distant. The way you barely reacted when she slid a hand along your waist in the empty hallway between classes, when normally, you’d roll your eyes and tell her to behave.

At first, she didn’t say anything.

She just watched.

Waited.

But when you barely looked at her during the entire party Ji-min had dragged you to, she had enough.

The moment she got you alone—outside on the balcony, away from the swarm of drunken students—she pressed you against the railing, her hands bracketing you in, her dark eyes scanning your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Her head tilted slightly, searching your expression. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Sae-byeok didn’t buy it.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You never get tired of this.” Her fingers brushed against your hip, her touch light but suggestive. “So what is it?”

For a second, you almost gave in.

Almost let her kiss the thoughts out of your head, let her hands distract you from the weight sitting heavy on your chest.

But you just… couldn’t.

Gently, you reached down and pushed her hand away.

“I’m just not in the mood,” you murmured, barely recognizing the words as they left your lips.

Sae-byeok froze.

It was small, barely noticeable, but you felt the way her body tensed for half a second before she pulled back.

She studied you, her expression unreadable.

Then, she scoffed lightly, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Huh.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, glancing away. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing back into the party without another word.

You exhaled, gripping the railing tightly as you shut your eyes.

You knew she wasn’t mad.

But you also knew that Sae-byeok didn’t do feelings.

And for the first time, you worried that she might take your distance as something it wasn’t.

That she might think you didn’t want her anymore.

When really, she was the only person you didn’t want to push away.

Sae-byeok hadn’t planned on staying long.

She never did when she came to visit Cheol. The children’s home always felt too sterile, too full of things she didn’t want to think about. But she came anyway—because Cheol needed her. Because she was the only one looking out for him.

But today, something was wrong.

The moment she stepped through the front gates, she noticed the emergency vehicle parked outside, its flashing lights casting eerie reflections against the windows. A group of caretakers stood near the entrance, their faces tight with concern as paramedics wheeled out a small gurney.

A child lay on it.

A little girl.

Sae-byeok barely spared the scene a glance. Kids got sick all the time. Accidents happened. It wasn’t any of her business.

She walked past them, slipping inside the building and heading toward the playroom where she knew Cheol would be.

When she found him, he was sitting on the floor, his coloring book open in front of him—but he wasn’t coloring. He was just staring at the page, gripping a crayon so tightly his knuckles were white.

Sae-byeok frowned, crouching down beside him. “What’s with you?”

Cheol glanced up, his face unusually serious. “Yu-jin got sick.”

Sae-byeok blinked. “Who?”

“My friend.” He pointed toward the door, as if she should’ve already known. “She was here with me. We were coloring, and then she said she felt dizzy. She tried to stand up, but she just—” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “She fell, noona. She wouldn’t wake up. The teachers called the ambulance.”

Something in Sae-byeok’s chest twisted uncomfortably.

She exhaled, ruffling Cheol’s hair in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “She’ll be fine,” she muttered. “Hospitals know what they’re doing.”

Cheol didn’t look convinced, but he just nodded, his small fingers still clenched around the crayon.

Sae-byeok sighed, about to change the subject—

Then, movement outside caught her eye.

She turned her head, glancing through the window just in time to see you rushing toward the caretakers, your face pale, your breathing uneven.

You were crying.

Sae-byeok went still.

You barely even spoke before one of the women gently grabbed your arms, trying to steady you, trying to explain something.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

The little girl.

Yu-jin.

Your sister.

Sae-byeok’s stomach dropped.

She had never asked much about your life. Never pried, never pushed. But she had seen you at this home before. She had known you were visiting someone.

And now, she knew exactly who.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched you wipe at your tears, nodding shakily to whatever one of the caretakers was saying before turning toward the emergency vehicle.

Sae-byeok wasn’t sure what she was doing before she was already moving.

Sae-byeok barely spared Cheol a glance as she stood up.

“I gotta go,” she muttered, ruffling his hair quickly before heading for the door.

She ignored the way he called after her, ignored the way her own pulse pounded in her ears.

Because right now, nothing mattered except getting to you.

By the time she stepped outside, you were still standing near the emergency vehicle, your hands shaking as you wiped at your face. The paramedics were already inside, shutting the doors, preparing to drive off.

Sae-byeok barely hesitated before striding up to you.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice sharp but not unkind.

You startled slightly, turning to her with wide, tear-filled eyes. For a second, you just stared at her, like you couldn’t believe she was actually here.

Then, your face crumpled, and you exhaled shakily.

“It’s Yu-jin,” you murmured. “She—she’s been sick for weeks, but I thought—” You swallowed hard, gripping your arms as if to hold yourself together. “She collapsed. They think it’s aplastic anemia.”

Sae-byeok frowned. “What the hell is that?”

“It—it means her bone marrow isn’t making enough blood cells. She’s been pale, getting bruises, getting tired easily…” You inhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I should’ve taken her to a doctor sooner.”

Your voice broke on that last word, and Sae-byeok felt something clench painfully in her chest.

She wasn’t good at this. At comforting people. At knowing what to say.

But fuck, she hated seeing you like this.

So she did the only thing she could.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing your wrist firmly but gently.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

You hesitated, your lip trembling. “Sae-byeok, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But I’m still going.”

You stared at her for a moment, like you were trying to find a reason to push her away.

But then, something in you gave in.

You nodded.

And without another word, the two of you got into your car and drove to the hospital.

Sae-byeok didn’t let go of your wrist the entire way.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something sterile, something cold.

You hated it.

You sat in one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting room, your knee bouncing anxiously, your fingers twisting together in your lap. The fluorescent lights above you buzzed faintly, but everything else had faded into white noise.

You could still see Yu-jin in your head—too pale, too small, strapped to a gurney with an oxygen mask over her face as they wheeled her away.

Your stomach twisted.

Beside you, Sae-byeok sat silently, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

She hadn’t left your side since you got here.

She hadn’t said much either—not since the nurse had told you that Yu-jin was being stabilized, that a doctor would come speak to you soon.

At first, you weren’t sure why she had come at all.

This wasn’t her problem. She didn’t do emotional support. She didn’t do waiting rooms or hospitals or sitting next to you while you tried to keep from falling apart.

But she was here.

And when your breath hitched, when your fingers clenched into fists against your thighs, she moved.

Wordlessly, her hand slid over yours, her fingers prying yours open, threading through them.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sae-byeok exhaled softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know.”

You turned to look at her. “She’s all I have.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened slightly, her dark eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

Then, after a long moment, she squeezed your hand.

“No, she’s not.”

Your lips parted slightly, your pulse stuttering.

Sae-byeok didn’t elaborate.

She just kept holding your hand, grounding you, keeping you tethered to something solid as the minutes dragged by.

The waiting room had never felt so suffocating.

Every second that passed felt like an eternity, stretching thin over the weight pressing against your chest. Sae-byeok’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from spiraling completely.

Then, finally, the doctor arrived.

She was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a clipboard tucked under her arm. She gave you a small, professional smile before sitting down across from you.

“You’re Yu-jin’s guardian?” she asked gently.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. How is she?”

The doctor sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “She’s stable for now, but her condition is serious. Aplastic anemia is rare, but it can be treated. However, it requires aggressive management—blood transfusions, medications, and in severe cases, a bone marrow transplant.”

Your stomach twisted. “A transplant?”

She nodded. “It’s the best chance for a full recovery, but it’s not easy to find a compatible donor. In the meantime, we’ll need to start her on immediate treatments to manage her symptoms.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “And… how much will that cost?”

The doctor’s expression softened, as if she had been expecting that question. “That depends. Do you have insurance?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

Your fingers curled against your jeans, gripping the fabric tightly. You could feel Sae-byeok watching you, waiting for your answer.

But you didn’t have one.

Because you already knew the truth.

You had nothing. No insurance. No savings. Just barely enough money to scrape by, let alone pay for something as massive as this.

But you couldn’t say that.

Not out loud.

So instead, you swallowed past the lump in your throat and forced a small, polite smile.

“Thank you for your help, doctor,” you murmured.

The woman hesitated, her gaze flickering over you, as if she could see the weight of what you weren’t saying.

But she just nodded. “Of course. I’ll have a nurse bring you the paperwork soon. In the meantime, you can see Yu-jin once she’s moved to a room.”

You nodded stiffly, watching as the doctor stood and walked away.

The second she was gone, you felt Sae-byeok shift beside you.

“You don’t have insurance,” she said flatly.

You inhaled sharply, keeping your eyes on the floor. “I’ll figure something out.”

Sae-byeok didn’t respond right away.

Then, quietly—

“You can’t pay for this, can you?”

Your throat tightened.

You couldn’t look at her.

Because if you did, you’d break.

So instead, you just squeezed your hands into fists, forcing yourself to take a deep breath.

“I’ll figure it out,” you repeated, but the words felt empty.

Because you had no idea how.

Lunch at school was usually loud—full of chatter, laughter, and the occasional shouting match over stolen food.

But at your table, it was quiet.

You barely touched your tray, pushing food around absentmindedly with your chopsticks. Your mind was still at the hospital, still stuck in that suffocating waiting room, still haunted by the sight of Yu-jin lying in that hospital bed, too small, too pale.

Sae-byeok sat across from you, watching.

She had been watching you all morning.

And when she finally spoke, her voice was calm. Steady.

“Here.”

You blinked, looking up just in time to see her slide something across the table toward you.

A thick envelope.

You frowned. “What is this?”

Sae-byeok didn’t answer right away. She just leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Take it,” she said simply.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the envelope before finally picking it up and peeking inside—

And your breath caught.

It was cash.

A lot of cash. Stacks of bills, neatly bundled together, more money than you had ever held in your hands before.

Your stomach twisted. “Sae-byeok…”

“For Yu-jin,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head immediately, pushing the envelope back toward her. “No. No, I can’t take this.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I do!” Your voice was quiet but urgent, pleading. “Sae-byeok, this is your money. You worked for this. I can’t take everything you have—”

“I don’t need it,” she interrupted.

You swallowed, shaking your head again. “Please,” you whispered. “Don’t do this.”

For the first time, something flickered in her expression. Maybe frustration. Maybe something else.

But after a moment, she exhaled, grabbing the envelope and shoving it back into her bag.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I won’t force you.”

You sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

Sae-byeok didn’t say anything.

She just nodded, finishing her food in silence.

You thought that was the end of it.

You thought she had listened.

But you should’ve known better.

Sae-byeok skipped her afternoon classes.

No one stopped her when she slipped out the back of the school, her bag slung over her shoulder, her hood pulled up.

She had a job to do.

Getting to the hospital didn’t take long. She had been there before, knew her way around well enough. And it wasn’t hard to figure out where to go—she had overheard the doctor say Yu-jin’s name, had seen the forms in your hands.

Kim Yu-jin.

When she reached the billing office, she didn’t hesitate.

The receptionist barely glanced up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pay a bill,” Sae-byeok said smoothly, pulling out the envelope of cash and setting it on the counter. “For Kim Yu-jin.”

The receptionist blinked, clearly surprised. “Are you a family member?”

Sae-byeok didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”

The woman hesitated before nodding, typing something into the computer. “Alright. The family still has a significant balance, but this will cover a large portion of the immediate treatments.”

“Good.”

The receptionist paused, glancing at the cash before looking back at her.

“No questions?” she asked carefully.

Sae-byeok met her gaze, unblinking. "Nope."

You knew something was wrong the moment you walked into the hospital.

The nurse at the front desk greeted you with a polite smile, the kind that only made your stomach twist.

“Good evening, Miss Kim,” she said. “We wanted to let you know that a substantial payment was made toward Yu-jin’s treatment earlier today.”

Your breath caught.

“What?”

The nurse nodded. “Yes, a young woman came in this afternoon. She said she was family and paid in cash.”

Your fingers curled against the counter.

A young woman.

Cash.

No.

No, she wouldn’t—

Your heart pounded as you spun on your heel, barely muttering a thank-you before storming out of the hospital.

You already knew where to find her.

Sae-byeok was leaning against the gate in front of the school when you found her, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But the moment she saw your face, her expression shifted.

You didn’t slow down.

The second you reached her, you shoved at her shoulder—hard.

She barely stumbled, just blinked at you, unimpressed. “What the hell—”

“What did you do?” you hissed.

Sae-byeok exhaled, rolling her eyes. “You already know.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I told you not to—”

“And I told you that you didn’t have a choice.”

Your chest tightened. “That wasn’t your decision to make!”

Sae-byeok scoffed. “Yeah? And what was your plan, then? Huh?” She took a step closer, her voice low but sharp. “Just sit around and hope the money magically appears? Let Yu-jin get worse because you’re too fucking proud to accept help?”

You flinched, your throat tightening. “That’s not—”

“She needs treatment,” Sae-byeok snapped. “She needs money. And you don’t have any.”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “And you do?”

She didn’t answer.

But she didn’t have to.

Because you knew.

You had always known.

Sae-byeok didn’t have a normal job. She didn’t come from money. The cash she had given you—it wasn’t clean.

And she had spent it all on you.

Your eyes burned.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered.

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well.” She looked away, exhaling sharply. “Too late.”

Something in you cracked.

Because this—this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to need her. You weren’t supposed to owe her.

But now, you did.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

So instead, you just inhaled shakily, shaking your head. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Sae-byeok studied you for a long moment.

Then, quietly—

“I don’t want your money.”

You swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly in her pockets.

Then—

“You.”

Your breath hitched.

But before you could even begin to respond, she turned away.

“Come on,” she muttered. “I’ll walk you home.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

But the weight of her words stayed with you the entire way back.

[rwshfordgirl]

"I HOPE THEY LIKE ME."

all images were taken from pinterest.

where he meets her parents for the first time.

pairing: hector fort x reader!

a/n: the last one 💔 i feel like i could have developed it more but i hope you like it.

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

"Cariño, you look good in anything." I said looking at my cell phone screen watching Hector try to choose an outfit. "I just want to make a good impression." He said as he changed his shirt for the thousandth time.  "Just wear the clothes you normally wear, my parents don't care about that." I tried to calm him down.

My parents know who Hector is, I just don't know if they remember him, but we studied together in the early years of school. We weren't close, but we stayed together because of our friendships. I lost contact with him when I moved to Valencia because my grandmother had become ill and my mother decided it was best for us to stay close to her, and she certainly wouldn't live in Barcelona even if you offered her all the money in the world.

So I spent four years there, I would come to Barcelona every now and then to sort things out with my parents but I didn't stay for long. I remember when I left, my friends organized a farewell snack after school, it felt like I was going to the other side of the world. And my favorite memory of that day is Hector saying, "I'm going to miss you so much, don't forget me." And I replayed that phrase in my head every day before I went to sleep.

Until I got back to Barcelona, I went with some friends to a birthday party for someone I didn't know and do you know what was the first thing I saw? Hector Fort, leaning against the wall and laughing uncontrollably at something his friends had said to him. He stopped laughing when he saw me, waved and came walking towards me excitedly, the huge smile on his face almost made me fall apart. "Why didn't you tell me you were back?" he said hugging me.

That hug changed my life. After that we spent the night talking, every detail about how our lives had changed was shared. Before I knew it, I was already going to Barcelona games, I sent him good luck messages and worst of all, I lied to my parents every time I met him. 

But it was on a random Wednesday where I was sitting on the couch watching a movie with my mother, I opened my cell phone, went into the gallery and turned the phone towards her. "Your son-in-law." She almost spat out the water she was drinking. "Seriously? Why haven't I met him yet? Why hasn't he come here yet?" Later that day, my father came to my room. "Your mother told me about Hector." I smiled, but the tone in his voice was serious and I felt apprehensive "I'm only accepting this relationship because he's one of ours! Visca el Barca." He made me laugh and then closed the bedroom door.

"You're coming to my house on the 15th, don't forget." I sent him an audio message. "Why? Are your parents going to be there?" He replied by text and then sent me a playful photo, but I could already feel that Fort was nervous from the start. "Yes boy, they want to meet you."

Hector arrived about forty minutes after the video call, I was waiting for him on the porch. "I told you you looked beautiful either way." I kissed him as he approached, in his hands he had a bag and a bouquet of flowers. "I'll give you your present later." he said as he held out his hand to me. I gently pulled him into the house, my mother was finishing the food in the kitchen and my father was watching the news in the living room.

"I hope they like me." he commented and I smiled without showing my teeth, I gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "it's impossible not to like you." I replied. My father looked at us when he saw us approaching, he promptly stood up smiling and already offering his hand to my boyfriend. "Hector Fort in my house, what a privilege!" he said and I felt Fort's cheeks blush "Thank you for having me, sir! I was looking forward to meeting you." Fort was so nervous, I wanted to hug him "We've only heard good things about you! I hope you and my daughter work out." my father patted him on the shoulder.

My mother appeared in the room all happy, she greeted Hector with a tight hug. "Make yourself at home." she told him.  The player gave her the bouquet and an autographed Barcelona shirt to my father, and I knew that he had won my parents' hearts. My mother loves flowers and my father loves Barcelona.

"My brother-in-law just lost his position as favorite son-in-law to you." I commented before giving him a peck on the lips. "He's going to hate me." Hector commented. "I told you it's impossible not to like you."

[kiyo-cant-write]

Imagine octavinelle with a shrimp merman ? I don't remember if they are actually called that 😭😭

octavinelle with shrimp merman ✧･ﾟ

Thank you for requesting! I am sorry this took so long. Uni makes me literally want to cry sometimes when it keeps me from finishing things. Also happy Valentine's Day!! 💕 🍫 🍬 Lol, it's 1:30am in the morning for me! I'm sleeping now! Enjoy~!

If I made a mistake, please do request again btw!

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Summary: The reader is a shrimp merman. What does Octavinelle think of their classmate?

TW/CW: Just some tweel-typical implied violence/bothering

Notes: pre-relationship, male reader, he/him pronouns for the reader, the reader is NOT Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, the reader is explicitly in Octavinelle and a first-year at NRC

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[Name] is a shrimp merman, not an uncommon species but not a common one either. Growing up in the Coral Sea, he is now among the students at NRC who attended "land camp" to learn how to walk among humans in a form gained by taking a special potion.

Once he arrived at Night Raven College, he was promptly sorted into the dorm of the benevolent Sea Witch, Octavinelle. It was there that he met the housewarden and his... assistants? Associates?

Just what kind of place is this??

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Azul Ashengrotto

Azul doesn't feel any which way about [Name] being a shrimp merman though he does note there aren't many of them.

Even back home, he had only heard of a handful (maybe)

The real annoyance sets in when the twins decide this is a perfect reason to pick on or otherwise bother [Name].

While Azul tolerates it to a degree, Floyd takes it too far.

Azul ends up having to step in and that is where the friendship begins between [Name] and Azul.

Meet cute where boss saves you from his minions-

Azul is a surprisingly caring friend when he genuinely likes someone. He might seem a bit detached at times but the boy is just scared of getting hurt again like when he was younger.

Azul sometimes forgets [Name] is a shrimp merman.

Azul tries not to think about being an octomer.

He may or may not be projecting this onto [Name] as well.

All in all, Azul doesn't mind [Name].

[Name]'s species doesn't affect how he sees him.

He would only worry if the other merman seemed to know of his past. Then he would force him to sign an NDA.

Azul was not expecting to find a shrimp merman in his lounge before opening and being just about harassed by not one eel but two. Floyd, he could ignore. When was Floyd not doing something vastly inappropriate for the situation because it seemed "fun"? But Jade knew better. Or, in Azul's mind, he did. However, the octomer was reconsidering that sentiment as he watched the shrimpmer get tossed between Jade and Floyd.

Right, left. Right, left. Right...

"Jade, Floyd," Azul spoke in a firm tone of voice as he walked over to the twins, "What exactly are you doing to this person?"

He saw Floyd let out a sigh at being caught whereas Jade simply smirked a closed-mouth smile that made Azul vaguely uneasy (a natural response to Jade Leech in these situations). Both of them, however, made no moves to let go of the other boy.

"The two of you have work to be doing," Azul reminded, teeth gritted as he wanted to smack at least one of them (probably Floyd).

"We do, but this seems like such fun," Jade responded.

"Yeah! You never let us do anything fun, Azul," Floyd added.

The octomer sighed this time, shooting them a glare. They knew he might do something they didn't like if they pushed him enough. And that wasn't something either twin would risk just for a few minutes of fun, maybe for something more worthwhile, but not just throwing an underclassman around. That would never be "worth it" to them.

"Jade, Floyd, get back to work," Azul told them once more.

"Of course, understood," Jade offered, releasing the grip he had had on the shrimpmer's shoulder at last, "I will do so right away."

Jade seemed keen on pretending he hadn't misbehaved. Azul didn't even want to say anything. He ignored the look of relief that crossed the shrimpmer's face at being let go by at least one of the eels.

"Maa, fine," Floyd agreed a few seconds after Jade, pushing the shrimpmer toward Azul as he spoke, "You play with him, then."

With that, Floyd turned to walk away, not realizing what he had done.

[Name], not expecting to be pushed, went flying toward Azul, who had to reach out at the last minute to catch them. [Name]'s arm got caught in Azul's scarf, and Azul's cane tripped [Name] again... And the two fell to the floor with [Name] having his palms against the cool floor of the lounge and Azul's head pinned between them.

"Ehhh?" Azul managed to let out a sound between surprise and horror as he realized the kind of position they were in.

He could hear the twins snickering, watching instead of returning to their posts before the rush began. He would get them or this later.

"I'm sorry, senpai!" [Name] began, shifting to move away from him and only complicating the position the two were in, "Ah, sorry again..."

"Just..." Azul began, "Just stop it."

He tried to ignore the heat on his cheeks, the deep color his face probably was at this point. He could pretend it wasn't happening if he just waited it out. But he also couldn't. He was in the middle of the floor and customers would arrive soon.

Slowly, he moved to take the other boy's forearms in his gloved hands and push him away from him in the least awkward way possible, all the while hearing the shrimpmer apologize some more.

Once they were disentangled, all the while Floyd and Jade just watched in amusement instead of helping (really, Azul wanted to punch one of them so badly), Azul glanced awkwardly at the shrimpmer before he sighed in defeat and spoke again.

"You may have whatever drink you like for free today," Azul told him.

"Really?" he asked Azul, surprised by the offer.

"It was my employees who did this to you, it's an apology and an offer to buy your silence for what just happened."

It was only the right thing to do, Azul told himself.

"Oh... Oh! I won't tell anyone," [Name] promised, offering a slight smile, "Thank you for the drink, senpai."

"Of course," he told them, still sounding winded and a bit tired.

Oh, yes. Azul would be thankful to head back to his office after this.

"I'm [Full Name] by the way," the shrimpmer added before he found a table and began ordering his drink from one of the twins (Azul really couldn't care less which one was doing it as long as they were working and not harassing random students that wouldn't benefit the lounge in some way-).

But that name stuck in his mind as he returned to his office.

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Jade Leech

Jade is intrigued to an extent but it's nothing special.

Even if they are not common, they are still merpeople. Right?

Jade is far too captivated by the land (though he denies it) to be captivated by something that is so similar to his homeland.

He speaks politely to [Name] and teases him along with Floyd.

But this is normal tweel behavior and not because [Name] is a shrimp merman. Jade doesn't really care about that.

What matters to Jade is [Name]'s interest.

He will be happy if the other boy expresses interest in his club.

Jade's interests are intense and specific.

Something will need to fit into them to have his full attention.

Otherwise, he only focuses on things that apply to "work."

Azul asks him to research so many things.

Being a Vice Housewarden is tiring, you know!

As he gets more comfortable he may mention these sentiments to [Name] but it's unclear if those are real or crocodile tears.

Jade is forever shrouded in mystery as someone very guarded.

"Floyd-senpai called me a snack in the potentially cannibalistic way today," [Name] told Jade as he walked up to him wearing the best kind of outdoor clothes he could muster from his closet (which ended up being PE clothes).

"Oya?" Jade offered, feigning a worried expression for a moment before posing a question, "And what did you say to my brother?"

[Name] shrugged.

"I said I had to meet you for a hike and left," he told Jade, "I was already running late. Sorry about that!"

He laughed slightly, unsure if Jade would be upset or not. They weren't super close friends. [Name] asked Jade if he knew anything about the local flora on the island and Jade had gone on a twenty-minute rant about a local variety of mushrooms. Now they were going on a hike in the mountains near campus to explore.

[Name] didn't know what to expect but Jade was often polite and didn't call him "shrimp" (derogatory) and "snack" (cannibalistic) all the time like his unpredictable brother so this would be alright. Or [Name] thought it would be. Jade wasn't as startling as Floyd was.

The only time that Jade had startled him was when they first met and Jade seemed to know everything about him from age to hobbies. It wasn't the kind of information he was used to people knowing.

Still, it was less scary than Floyd. So he moved on.

Was that a mistake? Maybe.

But now they were on this hike.

"So, senpai," [Name] offered, "Do you do this often?"

It was a genuine question. [Name] had little experience hiking as he lived under the sea until land camp and now school and Night Raven.

"Hiking? I like to," Jade told him, "It's a part of my club at school."

"Your club? One you made?"

[Name] had not heard of this before.

"Something like that. I run the Mountain Lovers Club."

As Jade said the name, [Name] could have sworn he sparkled.

"Mountain lovers... So you must really like mountains?" he asked.

Jade nodded slightly with a grin.

"Something like that, it is more of an appreciation for what nature has to offer us," he explained, leading [Name] along the trail.

Seeing him like this, [Name] wondered what else about this strange island he could learn from Jade-senpai and if this was what Jade was truly like. He seemed much happier and chattier in his club uniform and out walking in the mountains.

Or maybe that was just [Name]'s imagination.

"Senpai! Wait for me!"

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Floyd Leech

Floyd thinks it's funny that [Name] is a shrimp.

They meet at the lounge when Floyd decides "This one looks fun."

He discusses with the Prefect about changing his nicknames around since [Name] is much more a shrimp than Yuu is.

This is a first in Floyd's history. Jade is impressed.

Floyd teases and makes fun of [Name].

Sometimes he will bite them just to scare them, not hard enough to leave a mark or draw blood but enough to startle them.

His excuse is always that he seemed "tasty" looking.

He gets into mock fights with Jade over [Name].

Sometimes the fights become actual scuffles when Floyd decides, "No, actually I do care that you're too close to Shrimpy."

Floyd is so unpredictable it's hard to say if he likes [Name], wants to eat him, or is just messing with everyone.

If [Name] wants to romance this eel, he will have to try harder to get his attention. Floyd can be a little dense at times.

Chaos does that to people.

Floyd is having fun with Shrimpy.

[Name] wasn't sure how it happened. It all happened so quickly. he had just wanted to buy something from the lounge that his dorm apparently ran and now there was a tall teal-haired boy attached to him and not letting go. What was happening? He was so lost.

The whole school was big and he was new! He barely remembered things from orientation and now there was this... this guy! All he wanted was to have a nice drink or a snack at this lounge. That was it. Was he asking for too much? Honestly! Maybe!

"Um... Can you let me go?" the shrimpmer asked, trying to break free and failing once more, "I need to find a table if I can."

He also would like to be able to move freely again.

The toothy smile on the teal-haired boy's face drooped slightly as he pouted at [Name] and whined in an albeit childish way.

"You're no fun! I just wanted to come investigate," the boy told [Name], "You seem like you're merfolk, you know."

[Name]'s face flushed. He had been doing a good job at being human, he thought? Was he not being land-y enough? He was doing exactly what they were taught at camp.

"How did you know?" he asked him.

"You seem like one," was all the boy said.

That didn't answer his question but [Name] didn't want to press for more information, especially in the position that he was in.

He sighed as he gave up struggling against him.

"I'm [Name]. And I'm a shrimp merman... Though I'm still not sure how you knew that," [Name] introduced himself as best he could.

The boy's eyes sparkled to the point [Name] was a bit unnerved.

"Ooh! I'm gonna call you Shrimpy instead of Shrimpy... But then what will I call them instead? Huhh..."

He seemed to think about it and [Name] wondered who the original "Shrimpy" might have been and why they were called that to begin with. Were they shrimp merfolk too? It didn't add up.

"And you are?" [Name] asked after a moment of silence between them, still in the boy's arms even though his grip had loosened.

"Floyd Leech," he said with another grin, still refusing to let go completely.

"Nice to meet you then..." [Name] told him.

Would he really be able to get away from this Floyd guy?

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[acourtofthought]

I agree with your post that Azriel was an asshole in that scene 100%. But I think making it seem like Elain didn’t have a choice whatsoever in that moment is also why people keep saying the fandom infantilizes her. She was wrong too for thinking it was okay to do that especially when Lucien was there. Again I agree that Azriel acted like an ass there, but Elain wasn’t forced to do anything with him. Let’s start treating her like the adult she is in this fandom. If you want Azriel to apologize to Elain, then Elain should apologize to Azriel too because she was aware she’s a mated female and still chose to accept that kiss.

I actually don't agree with this take and it sounds like you're confusing infantilizing a character with what is you wrongly thinking a female somehow owes a guy something. A guy who, even if she's confused and secretly wants him, has not at this time been giving him any mixed signals therefore her actions were not in any way "cheating" or disloyal.

How was Elain in the wrong for exploring something outside of one likely super serious commitment after she just got out of a super serious commitment when she has currently made no commitment to anyone?

I LOVE Lucien, my heart breaks for Lucien but I also realize how much Elain has gone through.

Lucien lost Jesminda but spent the next how many centuries having casual liaisons with others. Yet for some reason people think Elain has to go from an engagement with Graysen immediately into a super serious mating bond which is a forever sort of thing. Somehow she has to accept her bond with Lucien RIGHT NOW because .....? Why? Why is she not allowed to have a hot girl summer before maybe deciding to explore the thing someone else decided for her. Make no mistake, I am all here for Elucien's story and the reluctant soul mates / arranged marriage trope but that doesn't mean she's not entitled to take time to herself without worrying about Lucien's feelings. Did you forget everything she's been through in the last two years on their timeline? Lost her entire life in the human lands, rejected by her fiance, forced to become a species she grew up fearing, had to stab someone, lost her father and on top of that everyone seems to expect that she focus on Lucien. Everyone but Lucien of course because he's a complete green flag which is why he is her endgame. But she's allowed to be a 24 year old girl processing trauma even if that means having a meaningless fling just to see if she's ready to get back on the dating horse.

Rarely does the fandom fault Nesta for all but confessing her love to Cassian, being willing to die by Cassian's side then turning around and (without any sort of discretion) sleeping with MANY other males, something he was fully aware of. I also do not remember Sarah having Nesta apologize to him for sleeping with others.

Elain did not set out to hook up with Az that night, she thought everyone was asleep. And yes, Lucien was in the house but as far as we know he was also asleep and not aware which means she was a lot more discreet than Nesta had been.

Elain does not need to apologize to Az for anything because Az was fully aware she has a mating bond. They both chose not to discuss her mating bond, Az never asked her whether she planned on rejecting it which means he was fine moving forward without those answers. And just because she has a bond doesn't mean she owes Lucien loyalty. Again, Nesta suspected Cassian was something to her yet she still went on to hook up with multiple others.

Infantilizing Elain is when others act like she's the only person who never had a choice therefore she HAS to end up with Az, that somehow ending up with Lucien isn't a choice because "we need to respect what she wants" as if she's not a fictional character whose wants can change from one book to the next.

Acknowledging that Az hurt Elain in that moment and not the other way around is what happened and I think if you somehow think Elain needs to apologize to HIM than that is you infantilizing a 500 something year old guy with communication issues.

Edit thanks to @zenkindoflove :- Here's your apology from Elain, anon: She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I'm sorry." "You don't - Don't apologize he managed to say. "Never apolgize. It's I who should...." He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression. "Goodnight."

The 24 year old apologized to HIM when he called things a mistake after he was the one who left his hands on her neck then titled her head. And instead of saying, "It's I who should apologize, I'm so sorry" he just decided he couldn't handle telling her he was sorry.

[babybearnation]

polyam!lance/mick + omegaverse = general soft/smutty headcanons

(i blame my omegaverse obsession on you btw /lh)

you're welcome lol <3

omega!lance stroll x alpha!male!reader x omega!mick schumacher

smut below cut

fluff:

lance smells like blueberries and mick smells like cornflowers, a concoction that never fails to make you feel loved, safe and happy

a perfect pair of cuddle bugs, these two can always be found in each other's arms or clinging to you - it's like they have a cuddle quota they must fill every day

they were very nervous at the start of their relationship with you but you courted them so sweetly and were so patient with their anxieties that they couldn't help but fall hard and fast

neither of them can sleep without having some sort of physical contact with you - you usually end up trapped with lance on your left side, mick on your right, and their hands link over your tummy or back (depending on how you sleep - these two make sleeping on your side impossible)

both mick and lance get jealous over you interacting with other omegas but they react in different ways - mick gets quiet and teary but he always speaks to you about his feelings whereas lance gets angry and bitter, lashing out at you before he bursts into tears

lance is very catlike in that, should he feel inclined to, he'll walk up to you or mick and just casually start nuzzling his head against your skin, desperate for kisses and cuddles and affection

mick is what many deem to be the perfect omega - he's sweet and quiet and patient, but he's also very playful and fun and he's not above indulging lance in his chaos even when he's tired

these two have no qualms whatsoever about parading you around and showing you off to people - after all, you are theirs and they don't care who finds that annoying/irksome

smut (bottom!lance, switch!mick & top!reader):

lance and mick's scents always combine to create the most potent candle-esque scent ever when you three have sex and it's damn near impossible to forget it once you've smelt it, especially if your scent is thrown into the mix as well

lance is clingy during sex, his legs wrapped around the head or waist of the person in between them, but mick is perfectly content to sit to one side and watch, as much as lance begs for his touch

their first heats with you were intense but you made sure to take such good care of them with the help of the other omega and it made any and all heats the easiest to deal with because of it

pre-heat jealousy actually hits mick harder than it does lance. lance stays pretty much the same, if a little bit snippier, but mick fully snaps at people, threatening to hurt them if they get too close to you

both have a thing for marking you up but lance goes for scratching whilst mick goes for soft love bites - they both go absolutely feral any time you mark them up, though (the harder, the better)

even in heat, neither of them can last very long - the two of them are just such sleepy boys that it only takes 2-3 rounds for them to be satiated, both in and out of heat (whilst this can sometimes make your ruts harder, you never let them feel bad about it)

they require so much aftercare its insane - you'll have to somehow clean them up, get some water & food in them and (if they choose to put clothes back on) redress them all whilst they cling to each other sleepily and refuse to help you

mick gets shy post-heat as he doesn't like all the stares he gets but lance shines so brightly when he's covered in your marks and has a limp because of your knot that it slowly starts to rub off on mick as well

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[reverie-verse]

Anakin Skywalker x Reader: Forbidden Attachments PT 1..

Prompt: A time between the Clone Wars on the verge of beginning and then end of Padawan ages. Y/N is in love with Anakin, but his heart seems to belong to someone else. Senator Padme. One thing a Jedi cannot do, is the one thing that sets her free…Her life takes a turn resulting in her starting over, finding a new life on a different planet. Only a few years later does an unexpected visit rehash old feelings. 

*Glimpses of Obi Wan, Ahsoka, Rex.

A/N: I had an anon reach out an ask for a part 2, then I read this one so I could get in the mood lmaooo. THEN I realized I NEEDED to rewrite part 1 again.....soooo I did! Ummm please enjoy!

Part 2 is ON THE WAY!!!!🫶🏽

My REQUESTS are OPEN!!!! 😌 

———————————————————-

The day you left the order was the hardest decision you’ve ever made. It wasn’t because of false accusations or because you believed that the sith could help you achieve goals the Jedi couldn’t. No it was one specific rule, one specific code. Attachments are Forbidden. Love was forbidden and you were in love with Anakin, your best friend. It wasn't his fault, you couldn’t blame him for being himself. You couldn’t exactly blame the code either, it was a rule you needed to abide by. However, it hadn’t stopped the pain that coursed through your body, your heart, and your mind. You knew the reality of the situation, you knew there wasn’t an easy way to go about this, to work through this. The love that you craved was immense, you felt drawn to him, yet you knew the truth, he could never care for you the way you hoped. 

But that was a lie.

He could care in the way you yearned for, only it wasn’t you he wanted. The memory was fresh, as if it had happened yesterday, how could you forget? You were beginning your rounds of patrol, it was your turn that night. Obi Wan usually took the first shift leaving room for him to meditate when he can. Anakin took the second shift to avoid ruining his sleeping schedule, to soak in the last remaining source of the sun. You took the last shift because you had always taken the shifts or the jobs nobody wanted. You hadn’t minded, you enjoyed the peace and the quiet that came with it. 

Only it was that night that you had regretted it. Per usual you had wandered down the halls, your gaze landing on every corner, crevice, window, walls, doors, rooms. You had continuously minding your thoughts to yourself, even then as you walked, you couldn’t help it. Work seemed to find itself placed on the back burner as you drifted in and out of wants and desires. You reprimanded yourself repeatedly as you tried to embed the code as far deep into your soul as possible…But it all came to an end. You had reached her corridor, looking further into the hall even within the dim lighting, it was as clear as day. Your heart shattered. 

It’s pathetic how well you remembered the way Padme grasped Anakin’s arm. The way she pulled him into her room, so late into the evening as it neared the middle of the night. The way he looked at her, his eyes wandering her features, he took her in as though she were the only woman in the galaxy. Her lashes flutter as her gaze locks onto his, her smile sweet, warm, and welcoming. It was an open invitation, as she guided him into the heated space of her bedroom. He followed her with such ease, he practically melted in front of her, his thoughts no longer his own echoing into an abyss that was only heard by you.

Your mind and body are no longer connected, your feet moving backward, retracing your steps. They guided you towards your bedroom, forgetting the fact that you still had hours left of your duty. Your mind and your heart collided for the second time, only it wasn’t pleasant as it once was, time it was painful. The yearning, the wanting, the day dreaming the milliseconds of when you touched or when you locked eyes or when you spoke truths to each other-it had all but ceased. It  crumbled apart right before your eyes. You felt betrayed, you felt envious, you felt delusional, you felt wrong, you felt guilty. But you were thankful, you were thankful he hadn’t noticed you were thankful that you could escape knowing now that he would never love you the way he had Padme. 

This was your time. It was selfish you know, and you realized that your life’s work depended on this decision. You were selfish with it all, the Jedi were never meant to be that way. They were meant to be selfless and giving, protectors, you were none of those things, at least not in the eyes of the Jedi. You had devoted all your life to the cause of the war, the battles that you won, the battles that you’ve lost, the lives that you’ve saved and the lives you lost all for what? You were tormented in every aspect of your life and this was the final straw. You have given all of it up, it was pathetic, and it was stupid indeed, but deep down you had already craved a simple life. So you made the decision to leave and there was no one to stop you. The moment opportune. 

You had a plan, you knew the routine schedule of the Nabooian security forces. You knew where your beloved Master and friend.. would be, it was just too easy. You had known that taking your own ship, or a Nabooian ship  would alert everyone of your disappearance. It was easier to slip out taking one of the speeders you found as you travel by foot for the first few miles. From there it was a cake walk allowing you to take off without so much of a trace. It was a success, to say the least, by now it would be too late. Dawn was nearing, you had already passed the inner city, the port and onto the cargo ship. With your bag slung over your shoulder as you walk along the corridor, the vessel makes its great escape as it exits the atmosphere. 

You knew that you wouldn’t be returning to Coruscant, you knew how devastated Anakin would be. As any concerned friend would be… Obi Wan would be there to deliver the loss, while Padme would take the chance to ease his pain in every way possible. You couldn’t stay in Naboo or to return home to the Jedi temple on Coruscant. You couldn’t bear the pain that came from watching someone else fall in love with someone else that wasn’t you. Nor could you ignore the feelings that bubbled beneath your skin, the life of Jedi was taking its toll and for once this decision hadn’t felt wrong. You felt a slight relief, this was a good thing, you were going to start a new life, one that you craved. You were going to be free of all the madness in your life…

It had been close to two years now, you had found yourself a home on Aurea, in the city of Shakamm Crater. A vast planet filled with forests, oceans, sands, a tropical climate, a beautiful home, it was better than all the metal structures you were used to. The planet itself practically ran on so many various forms of trades, and skills, artisans of all kinds. It was easy to find a low maintenance job, one that allowed you to keep a low profile and keep an eye on potential exposing threats. You were lucky in the fact that there were millions of people that resided here. That alone brought comfort to you with an extra padding of protection. You knew that the Jedi would never check the core worlds, only the outer rim held their focus. 

It had reached nightfall by now, you had gotten home maybe an hour or two ago, a small humble abode in the middle of an open field nearest the ocean and forest. You sought out a home that allowed you to live at the edge of the city, the area brought a deep comfort reminding you of some of the gardens you once walked through at the temple. Your home was open, your floor plan wide, everything within sight, except of course your bedroom and bathroom. It was exactly the space you needed and nothing more and nothing less. A breeze had swept past the cotton material of your curtain. You had wandered over to it, wrapping the cloth together and pinning it to the side. A late night indeed. The breeze was cooler in the middle of the night, the stars amongst the galaxy calling to you. You take a seat near the windowsill, your chin tucked into your hand. Your hair wet from the previous shower you had taken, your large tunic and shorts, loose against your body. The moons at its highest peak, a steady stream of light pouring in. You take a moment shutting your eyes, as you battle the memories of your past that threaten to consume you. 

———-

A specific image of you sitting in a home, you in your natural state, your hair in its unruliness, a sight he hasn’t seen in a few years…This version of you was placed near a window overlooking a view, one that he couldn’t see. One that the force wouldn’t allow him to see. Oh how you haunted him in every aspect of his waking life, odd moments, during meditations, and even in his slumber. When head the most relaxed he received these visions. What had expected carrying your trophies around as if they were a part of him. He places a hand on his forehead, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes, he shuts them for just a brief moment or two to relieve the pain but nothing comes of it. 

Rex, his loyal captain, his friend, turned to look at his General “Sir are you alright?” Anakin knew the reason he was asking, the two in the past have shared their horrific memories, bonding in a way that allows him to feel safe with trust. The many sleepless nights, the days spent in triggering environments, forcing old and new memories to collide..

“Yeah I’m just fine Rex” He grumbled, not in the mood to respond to his question in further detail. This was exhausting him, driving him into a silent madness. He knew Rex knew better than to push the situation, so he hadn’t. For that Anakin was grateful for, at this time he had no energy left to give. Anakin wasn’t sure why it was like this, this…recurrence of you. You were everywhere and in everything. His mind was tormented and not a single person could help him ease his pain. Not his padawan, his old Master, not even Padme.

“Master I can’t keep fixing this power core, I need a new one and the fuel tank is running low-” Ahsoka shouts from the back of the ship, Anakin heaved a sigh as she drags herself back into the cockpit. Ahsoka, with each passing day was beginning to remind Anakin of himself. Her attitude, her knowledge that she gained, her skills growing, Rex refrains from chuckling as Ahsoka stops in her tracks “-Where are we?”

Obi Wan only shakes his eye as his locks onto a set of coordinates before looking out towards the massive planet. “I believe we’re headed for Planet Aurea, I hear  Shakamm Crater has a docking station. Fuel and maintenance might be a bargain.” Obi Wan says as he checks the scanners. There were two engine malfunctions and the fuel tank ran dangerously low. 

“Great, let's hope the repair won’t cost a fortune.” Anakin replies as he pressed a few control keys before pulling back on the yoke, he nods his head towards Rex. With extra support Rex began to slow down the ship as it passed through its orbit and through its atmosphere. The sun’s burning glow hit the planet signaling that it was daylight.

“There’s the station” Ahsoka points out as Anakin helps Rex fly the ship closer, landing it on a dock. The group opens up the hatch as they exit the craft taking in the scenery before them. There lay an assortment of ships, workers, and droids. Sparks floated about the air as equipment mold, cut seal and from pieces of metal. In all directions various sounds filled the station, rumblings of engines, motors, workers, customers and droids shouting amongst each other. It was easy to get side tracked if no one knew where to look or what to do. Ahsoka and Rex were slightly captivated by this environment, there was an energy about it, the openness, the invitation of it all. 

Obi Wan and Anakin had a set routine, and while Ahsoka may be learning, it came with instinct the way the two immediately went searching for a mechanic. Time was of the essence and with a quickness, Anakin and Obi Wan spotted a mechanic, who happened to have been wiping the grease from his hands and fingers, and exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “What can I do for you?”

“We need fuel, a new power core and a new engine, oh and our left wing needs some attention. We need it done by tomorrow. ” Anakin states as he crosses his arms, Obi Wan already in the same stance.

The worker glares at him, frustration clearly evident. “Tomorrow? I at least need a few days to get the parts- What’d you do? Fight some pirates or something” 

“Now why would we tell you that?” Anakin’s voice clips. Obi Wan takes notice choosing to remain silent until he feels he needs to step in…which he could only assume won’t be long. 

“Look, you won’t find a better worker than me around here-” The worker taking a step forward causing Anakin to raise a slight eyebrow. 

“Never mind that, We will pay you handsomely to fix it in a few days” Obi Wan offers as he takes a step forward between them. 

The worker shifts his angered gaze from Anakin’s and towards Obi Wans. “ What’d you have in mind?” Obi Wan slips to the side pulling the attention of the worker allowing them to separate from his padawan. Anakin rolls his eyes keeping his shoulders square, arms tightly crossed as he scanned the area. The smell of burning metal brought a comfort to him, a warm comfort at that. For a moment it allowed him to relax, to find peace, it was only then did he realize what he’d done. A tug pulls at his chest, a familiar one at that. The bond that Anakin had with the force was immense and strong. His intuition, his instincts were usually never wrong. 

He takes this as a cue, one from the force that suggested he dive deeper. Again a harsher pull, that caused his heart to leap, his eyes searching, as his feet began to guide him. For a brief second his heart stopped, as the pull so great caused him to freeze. There it was, that essence, it drew him in further, his head shifted slightly to the side. It was right there, the thing that called to him through the force if only he could just-His eyes follow an  invisible line over his shoulder, time seemed to have ceased in its very existence. His chest tightens, his breath trapped within his throat, there a sight for sore eyes, was you, the very person he dreamt of. 

There you were burning brighter than a thousand suns, your skin glowing. You swiped the back of your hand onto your forehead, pushing at the loose hair to the sides and out of your eyes. The grease on your hands smeared a tiny bit into your forehead. You had worn a uniform jumpsuit that the sleeves were tied around your waist, exposing your short sleeve shirt. More grease and dirt stained the skin of your arms and neck. You were captivating, breathtaking, Anakin was sure he was forgetting to breathe. 

You were in a position of concentration, you had been sitting criss crossed on the nose of a ship. You had been working on the droid that had been trapped in its place. It beeped at you causing you to shake your head allowing you to loosen it up just a tad. You were only a mere few paces away and yet he could see you clear as day. Anakin hadn’t missed the way your smile had broken its seriousness. A coworker of yours had wandered over to you, saying something that naturally let your beautiful laughter escape. You had quickly turned your attention allowing the small robotic creature to jump out of its pocket landing next to its owner. Your friend who shouts something at you causing you to wave them off. 

They cackled loudly and waited till you hopped down from the nose of the ship. You smiled and spoke, shaking your head. You reached into your backpack that you had now slung over your shoulder, you pulled out something small. He wasn’t able to make out what it was but by the looks of it your friend was happy. The two of you waving goodbye to one another only to catch the eyes of Anakin in the process. The force had a funny way of bringing the ones you know and love back into your life. It was then you froze, your heart thumped with everything it had. Your chest squeezing, the air from your lungs evaporating. It felt as though no time had passed, the way you two connected, a strong cord securing its hold, it pulled you both in. For a moment you remember it all, the love, the pain, the comfort, anger, the happiness, every bit of emotion there was to feel.. all brought up from the past..

You didn’t want to admit that after all this time you still loved him. That he still looked as handsome as the day you first met. He no longer had a padawan braid signifying that he passed the trials. Both hands were protected by gloves, only one was more textured than the other. His hair grew a few inches longer than the last time you saw him. A scar cutting through the top of his eyebrow and down to his cheek, his piercing blue eyes, locked with yours. You’d heard stories about him, most of which were his heretic deeds, his cunningness and his ability to chaotically strategize. A poster boy for the republic for the Jedi. Then there were other stories that suggested a dark version of him, one only smugglers and bounty hunters speak of. His reputation preceded him, in more ways than one. 

Anakin held an intensity about him, always falling into depth, on each end of the scale never in between. To match his intensity a boyish nature flickers behind his eyes. A way to keep relief from all the chaos and suffering of the war. Still even now he found ways to peer into your soul to keep you trapped beneath his gaze. A trace so heavily captivating it was hard to break-but you had too. With two blinks, you took a step back, your thoughts finally catching up to your body. There was a decent amount of space between you, even then your mind began to calculate its time and an exit plan. He may have a hold over you but, maker forbid, that he brings you back to the Jedi. You weren’t going to risk it, not this time. No matter how deep your bond ran, or how much you used to love him. 

Obi Wan comes into view, placing a hand on his shoulder. Two more people who you had not recognized joined him on the opposite side. It had taken you mere seconds to recognize that young togurta is a force wielder. You didn't need to look for the lightsabers. The man behind her was a clone easily distinguished by the many rogue clones you had encountered along the way. Obi mouths your name in question, the young padawans gaze follows theirs towards your direction, realization flashes across her features. Reality bends back into its original form, the opportunity arises as you break out into a run. Anakin took his only chance to go after you, he shouts at Obi Wan to stay with the ship, Ahsoka and Rex both protesting, wanting to follow him. However, Obi Wan knew better than to interfere. 

You’re faster than Anakin remembered, usually he’d out run you but this time you were out running him. Somewhere in the space between the crowd and the exit, he shouts your name, calling for you. You ignored him against every fiber of your being. Your feet carried you through the sea of people, your body slamming into every other person you came across. You hadn’t even had the chance to mutter an apology. You had created a pattern, one that you ingrained into your mind for a day like this. You zig zagged through the crowd creating confusion as you ran for the threshold. You reached the edge of door heading for the platform. You see your speeder in sight tossing your bag in the passenger as you threw yourself into the front seat. Your hands worked quickly struggling to get the speeder started.

Your eyes flickering up briefly to notice Anakin had come to a slow jog outside of the station. You curse under your breath as you tried the system again it created an unsettling sound fear building up in your chest. “C’mon c’mon c’mon” you groaned as you kept trying. Anakin catches your eyes, his feet carrying him towards you, a roar of the speeder signaling that its alive. You had no room for hesitation, your foot slamming down kicking the vehicle into gear. Anakin swears as his eyes scan the area for a speeder to hijack.  What could only be described as force luck, he finds one, quickly igniting it, placing it into gear as he chases after. He’ll be damned if he lets you get away one more time. Hes relentless, at the upmost level, he’s refusal significantly stronger. He will not let you get away, that’s not an option. He’s  relentless, his refusal at a it’s maximum level. He just needed to see you, to grab a hold of you and throttle you for leaving him when you did. To wrap his arms around you to tell you that he missed you. You weren’t getting away this time. 

———

As you reached your home you clumsily parked the speeder, the plants and grass swayed with the motion of the wind. You rushed into your home, heading for your room. Underneath the floor boards you buried an emergency bag. You knew a day like this would come, the Jedi would be searching for you. They’d sent three Jedi and a clone to prove that to you, and they weren’t just any Jedi. Maker only knows of their plans, what they might do to you. Force you to stand trial as a criminal, give you a life sentence for crimes that you’d never committed? Or would they exile you as if you hadn’t already done that yourself? What brand had they placed onto your name? Foolish thoughts but the possibilities could easily become your reality. You knew the Jedi were capable of anything as long as they felt it benefited a cause. All you knew was that you weren’t willing to go back. 

Your heart completely shattered, its pieces broken, the one that were already mended, destroyed. You loved the home you built yourself, you loved the people you’ve worked with and come to know. They had became your friends welcoming you into their families. This planet was your home. For it to be stripped from you angered you, it upset you. The life you’ve always wanted was taken away from you. You’d assumed it was because of your selfishness of leaving those in need was the cause of this moment. You blamed yourself but you didn’t have the time to cry. Your feet moved before your mind did, slugging the bag over your shoulder you didn’t have the time to take a glance around to say goodbye. You were already out of the door, running towards your speeder getting ready to throw your bag back into only to stop in your tracks. 

Your were stuck halfway between your door and speeder, Anakin blocking your path. The dirt and gravel shifting underneath your boots. Your legs threaten to break out into another run, Anakin tilts his head slightly. He was ready for the chase, and he’d do anything to stop, you both knew that much. Neither one of you chose to speak opting for silence your eyes locked onto one another. Anakin’s jaw tense and set, his brows knitted together. He knows what he should feel what he did feel, shock, happiness, relief, comfort, but it all vanished when you decided to run, again. Now he only felt hurt and anger, confusion, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get the answers he deserves. 

You knew Anakin wasn’t going to let you leave, with his body in the way, of your speeder, trying to match him in combat seemed like a good idea…Only you knew how dangerous it could get, how his emotions controlled his every step, his every action-not the Jedi way. You were no Jedi. Anakin lifted his chin up, as if to dare you to make the move. A challenge, one he used to do when the two of you sparred as Padawans. The twinkle behind his eyes, even in his seriousness, a playfulness dances there. A familiar game with a familiar ending. You were smart enough to know to leave as much space as possible. Anakin fought the urge to smirk, he had you exactly where he wanted, and he knew you knew that. Time ceased to exist, the two of you knowing each other like the back of your hands. 

Your chest heaving as you threw your bag down onto the ground. Fine. He wasn’t going down without a fight neither were you. You sure as hell weren’t going to make this arrest very easy for him either. You quickly side stepped to the opposite side of your bag as if you were going to run. The faux step caused Anakin to stumble as he lunged for you. You grabbed dogged to the side running to grab your bag heading for your speeder. Anakin lifts his hand force pushing to the side away from your speeder and into the grass for a soft landing. You groaned in frustration. Anakin’s heavy boots charging for you. You push yourself up barely the ground sticking your leg sweeping his out from under him. It almost made you giggle how well you could still trick him. Only in this situation it wasn’t as humorous. 

Anakin was quick to recover you barely noticing as his arms looped around your body. His faced tucked into the crook of your neck, one arm securely across your chest gripping your shoulders with one hand tucked to your chin. The other tightly wrapped around your midsection securing your other arm in place. Your body almost immediately melting into his hold, tears forming at the brims of your eyes. The comfort of him overwhelming you, a move he used to use on you to disarm you. You were always prepared for it but this time-it was difficult. A straggled scream into groan hiss out of your clenched teeth. 

“Y/N?” He whispers, his lips gently brushing against your skin, goosebumps rise as his breath caresses it.

 You shook your head “No..” the tears threatening to spill, both of your chests rising and falling heavily. All this running, it was exhausting, and the pain that course through you both. Somehow the force connected you both, the way you formed together, molded each other as if you were made-No-you couldn’t think this way-You stepped on his foot, forcing him to release some of his hold, you slipped your wrist out of his hold on your midsection, you twisted sideways placing your hand on his abdomin force pushing him away from you. Anakin flew back landing back into the ground. Your feet running you in the direction of the speeder. 

From the time you got to the speeder, and by the time Anakin and caught up to you, he yells loud enough to have you stop in your tracks. “DONT YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING INTO THAT SPEEDER!”

“Or what? Huh? You plan on having Obi Wan and his padawan come after me? Have the clone take me out with stun gun? I WONT GO BACK!” You argued turning on your heel, you could see the fury that burned with him as his heavy boot marched towards you. 

“You left the temple all on your own! Why?” He asks no trace of malice, only anger and pain.. Deep down Anakin knew why he asked you this question, one of which he needed to know why you’d left him there alone on Naboo, to return to the trials without you by his side. Two why had you chosen to run at the sight of his presence? What had he done to make you hate him so much? 

Fear etched its way through your veins, was this all part of his plan? To get you to confess all your sins, the reason you believed were more than enough to vanish from the jedis teachings. Was this his ploy to have you weak and broken to take you back to the Jedi temple, to have you stand trial exposed and then imprisoned, or be exiled, to waste away alone.. “I won’t play into your games, Anakin. There’s nothing to say!” You retorted, your own eyebrows scrunching together in anger, though a sorrow hides in the depths of your eyes.  

“The Jedi was once your home, your people! Obi Wan and I were your family! You abandoned them, you abandoned us, you adandoned me!” You could see his hurt behind his eyes, the way they threatened to tear. You could see how much your absence has affected him, tormented him. It was never your intention but even now you vowed to keep him at arms length even if that meant the ones you called family take you back to prison you escaped from. 

“It was once my home..I did care for all of you-some more than others..but I was never a Jedi.” Your voice carried as it shifted from loud to a softened tone. Hidden within a meaning that Anakin recognized. To feel displaced in your own home, in your own way of living was exhausting, for some they find a peace within. 

“We talked for hours about what our lives would look like. The ways of the force, the Jedi the knights we wished to become, the masters we were encouraged to embody! We were supposed to do this together!” You'd known that the Jedi was never going to be more than what it was. Anakin still had hope, how that it would change, hope that he’d gain all the knowledge and power in the galaxy. 

“It was nothing but false pretenses, false dreams that weren’t meant to come true, Anakin” The way you had said his name, made his heart lurch forward. Even with all this anger the need for you to say it again at an all time high. You had  managed to convince yourself of the insignificance of the dreams you’ve shared, shattering them to pieces. To him it meant that all of it meant nothing to you, that you couldn’t care in the way he once believed you did. Even that felt wrong.

“The Jedi are nothing like the Sith. How could you compare them? You and I both know what the Jedi truly are” 

“The truth is that neither Jedi or Sith are correct in their teachings. Their minds vexed by their own ignorance.” 

 “Is that why you ran?” He questions, he’d noticed a small connection in your words, a slow realization of what it was you were implying. Anakin needed confirmation, something tangible, but even then he wasn’t sure if he truly understood the situation. 

“It’s none of your business why I ran” Your heart thrummed in a pace that felt as if it might fly out of your chest and land right into the palms of his hands. You refused to allow him any information, if he’d chosen to take you in to custody, even then you wouldn’t give up your pain, your emotions, that was the Jedi trained in you. To restraint to prevent to protect the parts of you the galaxy wasn’t allowed to see. 

“As a Jedi Knight, I have every right to ask you this question. You will answer it” He demanded.  

“You have no power over me. I am not yours to order around. I will do no such thing.”

“You will tell me” 

“No” 

“What has you so afraid that you can’t even explain yourself?” You hadn’t noticed the way he shifted closer to you, the way his scent filled your nose amongst the fresh breeze. It was intoxicating your senses. You shook your head trying to clear him from your over crowded thoughts, regaining your control you were beginning to loose. As out of practice as you were in controlling your emotions you knew Anakin could sense what you were feeling. The fighting was beginning to take its toll. 

“I am not afraid” You say through gritted teeth.

“Then tell me why you’d left me.” His voice softens, the aggression leaving him completely, the two of you beginning to wear down from the tension, all time high of emotions that rampaged through you both.

“I can’t” Your eyes flicker between his. You fought the tears that risked falling. Your teeth remain gritted as your jaw sets. You could feel the exhaustion building within yourself. You were tired from all of this pain and torment. You had tried to make yourself look cruel, evil, an enemy that belonged in a prison. That the Jedi wasn’t your home but you weren’t good enough for the Sith either. You made yourself look like a runner with a need to work for hire. A possible bounty hunter if you truly wanted. You hadn’t, you’d become a mechanic who helped anyone that came through the station good or bad. Jedi life was never truly meant for you. Your emotions are always running at an all time high, the natural way of life which you craved, it made you vulnerable…The Jedi could’ve prosecuted you for it. 

That was only part of the reason, Padme was only a trigger for you. She was everything you wanted to be and more. To do as she pleases, to live as free and unrestricted as possible. The ability she had to help those in need while remaining true to herself and her cause. She’s able to keep her head on her shoulders while rule with logic and emotion. All the things you wished you could’ve done or still do. You supposed that’s why Anakin loved Padme. She was everything he wanted to be and more. She could give him things that you couldn’t, not then and certainly not now. Anakin could sense the war within yourself, the push and pull within the force evident and clear. With that came the barrier you built around yourself, he knew you all too well. You’d kept your secrets hidden, but your force signature called to his begging and pleading for help. 

Two single tears roll down your cheeks staining them along the way. Anakin had half a mind to reach out and swipe them away. Your suffering was more than what he’d imagined. Your brows scrunched together again in anger as you aggressively wiped the tears from your cheeks. You crossed your arms, your body tense and tight, it practically locked itself in place. Anakin had come close enough to you that if he truly wanted he could grasp your hand and pull you into him. The two of you lost in the moment. “Tell me,” He whispers, pleading for an answer.

“ If you’re not here to take me back to the temple then leave” You jutted your chin towards the road. 

“I won’t leave you again, Y/N not this time.” he whispers to you, the sound of your name brings you back in time. All of your old memories collide into one another. He calls back to you, to who you were, who you both were. He calls into the force for guidance as its presence builds upon it. You are reminded of your friendship you’d built together. The love, the warmth, the comfort, the support, all of it. His hand extends outward grasping into your hand that had wiped away your tears. He hadn’t hesitated, he hadn’t given himself the opportunity. There it was again, the emotions that plagued you came crawling back. His skin gilded against yours, the slightly tug, bringing you as close as possible to him. The tears flowed without warning, you shook your head, eyes cast downwards, as you attempted to pull yourself out of his grasp. His touch burned in a way that your heart craved. Everything about your internal body betrayed you, even your thoughts became clouded. 

“You’re wrong…I-I saw you with Padme” You whispered, your gaze flickering up to meet his. In your clouded state of mind you knew the truth. He  would leave you again and you would be in the same position you are now. 

“ What?” 

“You both looked so in love.” You shrugged, your body losing all its energy. Your lashes flutter with wetness by the tears you’d shed. 

“ How did you-” His expression turned to confusion. He’d checked the hall that night. Taking every precaution there was to make sure that their evening had been left uninterrupted…It seems that part of the plan went accordingly but what he hadn’t considered was you. The possibility of you catching him in the act.. 

“It was an accident, really I mean, to think that I could’ve  been able to escape my own torment even while on duty-” You shook your head, a painful laugh escaped your lips. “-I was doing my usual routine check and yet, I found myself torn between becoming the jedi I was meant to be, or to be in love with someone I couldn’t have… In the galaxy we live in, the decision had been made for me…I realized I couldn’t be in love and be a Jedi. I would’ve broken one rule out of the order. To risk expulsion or prison, a lifetime sentence alone locked in a cell or trapped on a deserted planet seemed extreme…so I left.” 

Anakin found it hard to believe that you had found someone to love let alone a Jedi at that. A part of him was angry, that’s you had chosen someone else, though another part of him understood. With Padme he’d learned what puppy love meant, but from the looks of it, the love you’d experienced was far greater than his. He knew as time went on, as your disappearance loomed over him, he’d learned that his love wasn’t as strong as it should’ve been.. Love no matter how big or small it was blinding. “Who was it?”

“Who was what?” You sniffled your tears slowing down, your hands vigorously wiping at your eyes. 

“Who were you in love with?”

“Maker,” You groaned, you took a breath “-It doesn’t matter because he doesn’t love me.”  You shrug, offering him a sorrowful, empty smile. 

“How do you know?” 

You looked at him ridiculously, had the conversation blown past his head? “Anakin, I said he’s with someone else” You clarified. 

“I know about that but I still don’t understand-”His eyebrows scrunch as his gaze fixes on the floor, a hand slightly dismissing what you already stated. Only then did he stop in his tracks, it clicked. You’d said the man you loved was with someone else, he had been with someone else…His eyes flickered up to yours, he released the hold on his brows as they shot up in surprise. “You-You love me?” He asks you in disbelief, but only a pain filled smile creases into your features. You give a smile and a simple shrug. A variation of the words you were looking for hits you as your tears return. This time Anakin was quick to catch each one, his feet practically knocking into yours, his hands lifting to cup your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the skin. 

His heart and nearly ripped apart at the mere thought of you watching him fall for Padme. How you’d caught him in the act, while you were fighting against the entire galaxy and yourself, alone. You hadn’t come to him, for the same reasons that he couldn’t go to you..Yet Anakin made the exception with Padme, had his attraction not been as strong to her, he might’ve noticed that his best friend was suffering..The truth was even after you’d left Anakin’s love for Padme dwindled to nothing. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. You were the one who he sought out, the force connected the both of you in ways he couldn’t describe. All he knew was that you were his home no matter where he was. 

Anakin had been blinded by the Angel he’d seen on Tatooine forgetting his best friend’s existence. You were there for as long as Anakin could remember. You gave him advice, you went along with his stupid yet ridiculously complicated plans that always seemed to work out in the end. You faced obstacles together, you were his support, and all that time you had fallen in love with him. He had become so infatuated with the thought of an older woman, distracting himself from the possibilities of being with you. He failed to realize that you, yourself were the guardian Angel sent to him not Padme. He was blinded by his own ambitions to see it.

“I do, I just-can’t let you take the blame for my fall-” You choked out. You could see the thoughts forming beneath his gaze. You saw how he over analyzed, going over every moment, every second trying to understand where he went wrong. Then again you were there to ease his mind, to sooth his pain as you’d always done. How could he have been so caught up in a distraction. He’d taken you for granted and he hated that he had. It took him all these years to finally figure out that the deep love you held was something he’d been dying to reciprocate. He’d lost touch with his home, with his reality. He’d realized that the force had connected you both, always drawing you both into one another. The two of you share a magnetic pull, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. 

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to blame, you were always meant to be mine. Your heart called to me every moment of every day. There wasn’t a moment where my thoughts weren’t of you. I missed you so much, I was a fool to leave you to your own thoughts. I should’ve been with you, the force is what brought you back to me. The trust that I would've seen you again-it always brings me back to you.” His eyes flicker between yours as he lowers his forehead touching yours. His eyes fluttering shut, his hands still cupping your cheeks. The warmth of your skin against his flesh, it drove him insane. The electricity that followed between the two of you was undeniable. The force too pulled within you both, he could resist the urge-

His lips crash down onto yours lips, you hesitated for a mere second or too, realizing that his lips were in fact touching yours. Anakin nudges your head as he kisses you, his tongue already dancing with yours. Somewhere in between one of his hands slipped from your face, wrapping around your waist pulling you impossibly closer. You don’t remember reaching up latching your hands onto his clothes, all you knew was how hard you were gripping them. The air in your chest had nearly dissipated, your chest tightening, your body needing air. Anakin growled as he felt you slipping away from him, fuck air, he didn’t need it, all he wanted was you. 

“ Wait- wait” You say breathlessly. Your mind wandered to Padme and how wrong this situation is. To think that he might still be with her right now. If anything was to happen because of this you’d feel even more guilty than you already do. You shook your head moving to keep him at arm's length. You needed to put distance between you both. “Padme-We can’t, she’ll be devastated to find out about this. Oh maker and if the Jedi find out-“ your eyes squeezed shut your nose scrunching in discomfort  at the thought. 

“Padme has nothing to do with this, I left her the moment I realized that I knew you were the one I loved. I won’t risk losing you again, I can’t so much as breathe when you’re not near. I’m in agony when I’m without you and when I’m with you I can finally breathe-The Jedi, they have no control over who I love. It is forbidden, yes, but the compassion that comes with love is essential to one’s life. You’re the one I want, Y/N” He smiles at you, sweet and genuine, a hint of his boyish charm shines through. How could you resist such a devotion of love? You couldn’t deny that you both wanted each other, craved each other. With the guidance of the force you two were finally brought together as if this was all made just for you both. 

“Ani, this is life or death- secret this big could destroy you-” You started. 

“-I know what I want.” He takes a step forward gripping your jumpsuit, pulling you back in by the waist.

“You know they’ll check the logs on your fighter to see where you’ve been-” You shook your head, you placed your hands on his chest attempting to put a barrier between you both. Though your arms weaken, your body already itching to succumb to his warmth. The force and the galaxy hummed with joy, it echoed through you even as you argued and deflected, trying to stop what was meant to happen. 

Anakin would never allow that, not when you’re here, in his arms, alive, breathing, your skin touching his. What more could he ask for, the Galaxy could wait for him, as the war would always be there. With you he wasn’t guaranteed the time he wished for, the time he needed. He’d have to relearn you all over again, and that was all he could dream of.“Y/N, you’re not changing my mind.” His hand caresses your cheek, you instinctively lean into his touch. Anakin hums, his smile remains, as your eyes finally flutter shut. He pulls your head towards his, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. So inviting, so calming, the tension melting away. 

“I might” You huffed.

“Never”Anakin chuckled his hand around your waist stroking your hip. You could feel how relaxed he’d become. He held you in a tight embrace, one where you could feel that he wasn’t ready to let go. One where you’re sure you weren’t ready to let go either. You sighed involuntarily, Anakin’s heart jumped at the sound. Your eyes flutter open upon the sound of your own sighed, your own heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as you lifted your head back, your eyes lifting to meet his. 

“Nothing, but um we should probably get back to the port. I’m sure Obi Wan and his padawan are looking for you.” You peel yourself out of his arms only for his hand to grasp onto yours pulling you in for another kiss. His nose bumps yours just as he takes your lips into his. So tender and yet it’s  filled with passion, a need, so heated it becomes. You fell just as quickly as you realized how far he wanted to take it. A chuckle vibrates through your chest as you peck his lips once more. “-Mhmm we can’t”

“I’ll have Ahsoka stall him for a while-with a little help from Rex, it’ll keep him occupied” He smirked

You squint your eyes at him “You would have his padawan distract him? And the clone?”

“ Not his padawan, my padawan” his smirk turns into a grin, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Besides, Rex will be there to help in case things go sideways.”

“ Y-You’re padawan? Since when?” You went to sling your bag over your shoulder, Anakin swiftly taking it from you and placing it on his shoulder instead.

“Since I became a Jedi knight. The council thought it would be a good idea for me to train a padawan. They felt I was fit for the role” The two of you inched toward your front to enter into your home.

“Fit for the role, my ass.” You muttered rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Are you questioning my skills as a Master?” He crosses his arms staring at you with an expression that was filled with pride, and with teasing. 

“So what if I am?” You questioned, crossing your own arms as you stood near the threshold.

“So you want to pick a fight with me?”

“You couldn’t teach a padawan to save your life-”

“I do hope the two of you have resolved your issues.” Obi Wan's voice echoes from the end of your driveway. No trace of hatred or anger, only a genuine sense of care, happiness. Your heart squeezed at the hope that you were safe again. You felt at ease and comforted, Obi Wan travels across the dirt and gravel, as nears you and Anakin, Ahsoka trailing behind with Rex. Even you could sense the happiness from her, a smile gracing her features. 

“You could say that.” Anakin grins sharing a look with you by his side, you couldn’t help but return the grin. 

“It's good to see you, Obi Wan” You shift your gaze back to Obi Wan who couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

“It’s good to see you too, Y/N” Obi wan bows his head, his gaze catches dirt and grass smeared from the ground onto both of your clothes. He took note that the two of you shared a few throws to one another. He could remember the many training sessions you both shared, how you sparred, the way you too made it look so easy…Warmth spread through his chest as his gaze fixated on both of you. To see the two of you in the same light, teasing, challenging, loving, two compassionate hearts. He knew what you felt, and how you’d left the order for a price he couldn’t pay. One that he considered doing himself.. Yet he was proud of you for taking that chance, illuminating the path for Anakin to fulfill his destiny, his fate, that had already been written for him. A small silent sacrifice for the sake of the galaxy..whether you realized it or not.

Obi Wan knew the force worked in mysterious ways no matter how many times he practiced meditation.  What he did know was the force had a way of working itself out, creating and destroying paths that were meant to cross. How could Obi Wan deny that even in your separation, the two of you were always meant to cross paths? There was a plan written in the stars that he couldn’t compete with, if the path drew Anakin to you, and you were meant to be his light, then Obi Wan wouldn’t question it further. The Jedi council wouldn’t hear a word of this and he intended to keep it that way. There was nothing they needed to know, both of his former padawans happy, alive and healthy, what more could a master ask for?

“Why don’t you guys come inside, sit down and relax. I’m sure your ship won’t be ready for a few hours” You stepped aside and opened up your home. The three wandered inside taking a look around. Anakin was quick to scoop your hand in his as he stood next you, his eyes finding yours the two of you sharing the same look of love and wonder. 

A new path, a new challenge forged by the force by destiny by forbidden attachments...

[writinganon1]

Soap the toned-down version 💪

A thought was thinked. Thunk? Idk 

@cokoweee cut out what i didn't think the peeps here would vibe with. but ur other anons make me think I prolly would have been fine lol

oh yeah, a shameless self plug is in here too coz I thought it was silly

~

The pot on the stove simmered, onion and garlic sautéing, filling the kitchen with a pleasant aroma. She stirred it absently, looking over her shoulder to the lab where Othello had locked himself all day. She needed a way to get him out. He’d disappeared sometime yesterday and had only emerged to eat dinner and sleep for a few hours at night. 

She’d allowed it at first. He was working on something again. She hadn’t seen him put so much effort into something since a few months ago when she’d needed her wristband updated. 

But this was new.

She’d never seen him quite so devoted to a project in the year he’d been living with him. 

It didn’t matter though. She was going to drag him out no matter what it took. 

Pouring broth and rice into the pot, she turned the burner down to medium to let it simmer. Grabbing butter and herbs she placed them neatly on the counter before marching to the lab. 

~

The door opened with a shudder, purple light flickering from the center of the room. It stopped as soon as the light from the hallway filtered in. Othello shoved something under a blueprint, grabbed a small screwdriver, and began fiddling with a small object.

Idiot. 

“Watcha workin' on?” She asked, hand placed on his shoulder as she began to massage out the knots in his muscles. 

He stiffened slightly, “Nothing! Nothing at all to help you.” He hunched over the table, tail flicking nervously as he covered the blueprints for whatever he was working on. 

“Mmmmmmm” She pressed her hand harder against his shoulder. “Then you won’t mind coming to eat dinner with me?”

“Ken I-” 

She set her chin on his shoulder, turning her head so her mouth was flush with the side of his head. “I’m sure whatever you’re working on can wait.” She murmured, pressing her lips to his neck.

His pulse quickened against her lips as he placed a hand against her head. “I’m sure you’re right.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled, grabbing his tail and yanking him off the chair.

He screeched, throat bobbing as he clicked his jaw, limbs sprawling on the floor as he fell. 

Leaning down to his level, she gripped his hair and lifted his head. “You’re washing your hair after this.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” He laughed, waving her away. “But-” 

“I wash your hair, got it.” She said letting go of his hair as she stood up. 

“WHAT THE HE-” His words fell short, muffled by the ground as he slammed into the floor again. “I hate you.” He grumbled. 

“I know.” She trilled, grabbing his tail and dragging him across the floor to the kitchen. 

He clawed desperately at the floor, trying to gain some footing before giving up and going entirely limp. She slowly hauled him across the tile, angry hisses broken by clicks filling the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Mm’s Friday.” He mumbled against the floor. 

She kicked his side, earning a low hiss as he pushed himself off the ground with a huff. 

“Can we swim after this?” He asked, hauling himself onto the counter as he looked at the stove. “Because I yearn for the water Ken. YEARN.” 

“We?” She, feigned shock as she placed the pan back onto the stove and waved him over. “C’mon, you’re helping.” 

“I have no idea how to cook that.” He said, throwing his hands up. 

She rolled her eyes. “And yesterday you forgot where the dishwasher was..” 

“One time! I forget to load the dishwasher ONE time!” He jumped off the counter throwing his hands into the air as he walked over to her. “One time!”

“Mhm. Cut,” She said placing a cutting board, a fillet knife, and a large tilapia in front of him.

“Right then.” He said, chopping off the fins and tail of this fish. “Now what?”

She guided the knife along the long side of the fish. “Now you get the guts out.” She said, reaching in and removing pink masses of flesh. “You can throw those away, can’t make anything with the-” 

He gave a quick thumbs-up as he snatched them off the table swallowing them whole. 

“Gross.” 

“Pretty good actually.” 

“Alright.” She sighed, chopping the head off. 

Turning the fish, she slid the knife down its body, opening it to reveal the meat inside. Carefully gliding the knife across the rib bones, she separated the bones and set them on the table before grabbing a pair of tweezers and extracting the pin bones. 

Othello sat quietly, occasionally twitching from his perch on the counter. “Can I have those?”

“Gotta cook it first.” She mumbled, not looking in his direction. 

“You don’t have to cook bones?” He argued back, plucking them from the plate and stuffing them in his mouth. 

She turned wide-eyed as he crunched. “Genuinely why would you do that.” 

“Good source of calcium.” He shrugged, face twisted in confusion as if he had done something completely normal  

“YOU COULD JUST DRINK MILK?” 

“Milk is gross.” 

“YOU JUST ATE BONES.” 

“And they were very tasty.” He smiled, a small squeaking noise just behind the words. 

She turned, her face brightening. “What was that?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve heard it before.” He paused, a smile creeping over his face. “You should start drinking more milk though. Might help with your height.” 

Whipping around she marched over to him, grabbing his hair and pulling him down to her level. “Von Ryan, one more word out of you about that and I will find a way to drown your stupid turtle head.” Taking a breath she returned to the stove. “ And the weird noise you made? Not usually low enough for me to hear.” Sprinkling the tilapia with salt and pepper she carefully added the fish into the simmering oil. “Can you get started on the butter? Everything you need is in the bowls on the counter. Just mix it and it should be good.”

He nodded, adding the chopped herbs and spices to a small bowl and mashing them together until they became a smooth paste. “Now what?” 

“See that pot on the stove?” She said, pointing to a purple-lidded pan. “ Put that in the oven. Twenty minutes and take it out to stir it before it goes in for another twenty. When it’s done, put some butter and cheese in there.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She flipped the fish over, the skin flaking against the spatula. “Anything else you want?  I think this is good for me but you usually eat more.” 

Humming quietly he rummaged through the fridge. “Think I’m good,” he mumbled over his shoulder.

“Mkay, go ahead and set the table then wouldja?”

~

She watched his fork screech along the plate as he struggled to pick up the tilapia. He chased the bite for a few seconds before setting his fork down seizing the fish in his hand and swallowing it whole. 

“You act like you were raised in a sewer.” 

He looked up, wiping a smudge of sauce from his mouth, frowning. “Well I hate to break it to ya but….”

She rolled her eyes, finishing the last few bites of the meal. A flicker of movement caught her eye. “Othello.” She snapped. 

He turned wide-eyed, nail still dug into his arm. 

“Stop scratching at that shed or I’ll get the mittens of shame.” 

“Nooooooooooo. Anything but those!” He screeched, pushing against the table. 

She paused, thinking for a moment before smiling. “Tell me what you’re doing in the lab for so long today and I’ll keep the mittens in the drawer.” 

“I haven’t been working that long.” He protested, tail twittering against the chair. 

“You were gone when I got up and this is the first time I’ve seen you all day.” She said pointedly, a fork aimed at his face. “You’ve been doing this all week.” 

He shrugged “…The roots of invention are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”

“It’s 7:00! The door’s been locked. I couldn’t get in. Sheldon kept getting in my way.” She pressed, leaning forward. “Don’t bend Aristotle’s quotes to hide.” She added as an afterthought. 

“Aristotle would have wanted me to finish,” he said snottily, snout pointed to the roof as he stood.

“Well, Kendra wanted to see her husband at some point during the day today.” She snapped back, ring slamming against the table as she shot up. 

His eyes widened and he slowly moved his gaze to her. “Well, maybe Kendra’s husband was trying to do something nice for his wife.”

“Kendra had no way of knowing that!” She scowled. “She didn't know anything about why her husband wouldn’t answer her texts.” She paused, taking a breath as she shrunk into herself. “Kendra’s husband should give her at least a little bit of information before he disappears for a week without a word.” She whispered.

He softened and moved closer before whispering back. “But then Kendra’s surprise would be ruined.”

“Whatever.” She groaned. “Just tell me next time ahead of time before you close yourself up in that stupid lab.”  She leaned into his side. “It was just me and Mr. Nubbins all week. He doesn’t exactly talk back. If you would just tell me before you go off and leave me so I can come up with somewhere to go… Or at least people to see.” She gestured vaguely to the empty subway station. “That’d be great because I’d rather go back to the farmhouse for a week with Sagi than stare at these ugly concrete walls.” 

“How was I supposed to know- “ He paused, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her barely above the ground as he hugged her. “Sorry I didn’t-I wasn’t - why didn’t you say something?”

She shrugged against his arms. “You were always gone when I woke up and by the time you did come to bed, you always fell asleep before I could say a word. You’d just assume I was already asleep and lay a hand on my shoulder before you passed out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” 

“I won’t do it again.” He promised, holding her closer. 

She pressed her face harder against his side as his tail curled around her calf. “Why do you do that though?” She asked, words muffled by his plastron. 

“Hmm?”

“The hand thing. It’s every night you have to have your hand on my shoulder or my arm or chest or stomach, my anything.” She looked up, eyes meeting his. “Why?”

He froze, tilting his head slightly. “To make sure it’s real.” He took a deep breath. “Sometimes it feels too good to be true, ya know? After everything that happened. It’s easier to fall asleep at night when I can feel the heat radiating from your body, the pulse beneath your skin, the steady beat of your heart.”

She cocked her head. “If that’s so important to you, why haven’t you spent any time with me this week?”

He grinned. “Because sometimes, making something for someone you love is almost like being there with them. Anticipating their reaction is worth a few days of work.”

“Not for me.” She huffed “I didn’t get any of that. I got left alone.”

“Ken, I’d never leave you alone.” He murmured, pressing his snout to the top of her head “As a matter of fact, you’re coming with me.” He said, a smile creeping into his voice. 

“Huh?”

He hooked an arm around her middle, effortlessly hoisting her up, and began walking to the old convenience store he’d turned into a large pool.

She shifted her weight so it wasn’t around her stomach full of food and let her arms dangle. “I don’t have a bathing suit on.”

“I know.” He laughed, cheekily smiling down at her, tail whipping back and forth. 

“No! No, No NO!  Nope! I just washed these!” She screeched, kicking against him in a futile effort to free herself. 

Her weight shifted ever so slightly as he used his free arm door to the pool opened with a shudder and she flailed, kicking as he brought her closer to the water.

“OTHELLO VON RYAN IF YOU DROP ME IN THERE I WILL MURDER YOU!”

He stopped, looking down to her, a stupid smile on his face.

“What?” She snapped. “Plotting how you’re gonna do it?”

“Nope.” He grinned wider. “I was just thinking that if you killed me that’d be another felon for you.” 

Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open, -“Wait!”

His tail wagged as he set her on the edge of the pool. “A few more of those and you can run for president!” He said snarkily, contorting his face into a smirk and bobbing his head. He raised a finger and straightened up. “They’re eating the dogs. They’re eating the cats.” He pointed his finger to her, “You! Have you ever eaten a pet?”

“I think you need to look at a map.” She mumbled taking off her socks and dipping her feet into the water.

“It was funny!” He protested. 

She shrugged. “It’s funny to make fun of the orange man, not nearly as funny to not know where your wife is from.”

“…I was raised in a sewer.” 

“You were raised in America.” She corrected. 

“I thought you were born here?” 

She nodded. “Born here in New York, but my parents raised me there for as long as they could afford to, back in Indonesia.” 

His face twisted in thought as he slipped into the pool. He looked to her face and she nodded. His eyes lit up as he dove under the water, the walls echoing the squeaks and trills as he swam. 

Smiling softly, she let herself relax, shoulders loosening as she kicked at the water. A streak of green raced beneath the surface, almost faster than she could comprehend. It wasn’t often she came in here with him. She could swim, but it wasn’t exactly a passion of hers.

He swam laps around the bottom of the pool, seemingly exhaustless, before slowly floating to the surface, only his snout visible. She watched for a moment longer to ensure he wouldn’t go back to his crazed swimming. He floated lazily, occasional pockets of air bubbling from his nose, not a hint of movement elsewhere. 

Pulling her shirt over her head, she slid into the pool, the water flowing around her body. The green flash immediately appeared next to her, his eyes just barely above the water. He raised his eyebrows.

She shrugged and held out her arm. His lips quirked up and he grabbed her waist. 

“I thought you just washed those?”

“I took my shirt off.”

He didn’t respond, simply dragging her to the middle of the pool. 

“Aye! I can swim.”

He stopped, turning to her. “If my memory serves me correctly- and it does- tell me that you said that at the lake.” Staring pointedly, he smiled. “And then you nearly drowned.”

She spluttered, words stuck on her tongue.”Uh”

“That’s what I thought.” Letting her waist go he waited for a moment to make sure she stayed afloat before flipping to his back, patting his plastron. She climbed atop, flattening herself against his chest as he floated. 

Latching her arm around his neck, she relaxed completely, letting her body fall limp against his plastron. 

Her foot hung off his side, water lapping against her ankle. “Othello?” She whispered after a moment. 

He hummed, the vibration rumbling against her torso. 

She traced the side of his face, fingers stopping where his ears would be. “You would look nice with earrings.” She murmured.

“Thanks but I don’t-“

She groaned, taking her hand from his face and letting it fall into the water. “Ugh, your earlobes are uncircumcised.”

“I don't have earlobes, Ken.” 

“I’ll find the tape tomorrow.” She said after a beat of silence. 

He laughed, jostling her slightly. “I’ll do whatever you say. You think I’ll look pretty? I’ll try ‘em on for your sake.”

She smiled against his plastron. “I know.”

Time ticked by slowly. There was nothing but the beat of their synchronized heartbeats, gentle waves, and their intertwined bodies. 

“I had a dream last night that I was on a walk and four dudes tried to steal my bag.” He said suddenly. “But I didn’t have any bags so they just took my bō.”

“Thanks for telling me, bud.”

“Anytime” he shrugged.

She paused, frowning slightly.

“I have other dreams too. The other day I dreamt that I was in a pool of jello.” He shuddered. “It was so sticky Ken. So sticky.” 

She shook her head. “It just occurred to me that you might have never had one of the dreams I’ve been having pretty often.” She said, words muffled against his shoulder.

“Which is?”

She paused, finger sweeping arcs over his neck. “Kids.”

“…Oh.” He turned, taking her in his arms as he swam to the edge of the pool deck. He set her down gently, placing his head on her thighs, arms wrapped around her bare waist.

“Not like us, having kids. Like I assume that’s how it happens I guess but- ugh I don’t even think that’s possible.” Curling her torso around his head, she let her body weight fall against him. “But I have dreams where I give birth to a little girl. Ya know? She looks just like me. And I raise her and I love her.” She put her hand around his neck, gently tracing the soft skin of his throat. 

“You’re there too. It’s nice. And it’s not always the same girl. My dreams sort of, rotate I guess? There’s one that looks like me, one that looks like you, and one that’s a mix. Just depends on the night.” She sighed. “But then I wake up and suddenly my picturesque life is gone, and I don’t have a child to hold.” 

She tensed, tightening her grip on his neck. “And it’s so stupid because despite it all I’ve still got you. But my arms have never felt so empty without someone small to hold. And the child I raised for years?” She took a deep breath, her emotions threatening to boil over. “She’s gone, Dee. I don’t even remember her name. But you know what’s even worse? Sometimes I wake from those and you’re not there. You’re off tinkering in the lab and I’m alone.” 

She pulled away, gently lifting his chin before cupping his cheeks. “The bed has never felt colder than when I wake up from those dreams. It makes it feel as if all of this-“ She gestured to the walls of the pool. “Isn’t real. Because I wake up and I’m slammed into a reality where she was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”

He didn’t say a word, merely looked into her eyes, hugging her closer. “How often do you have those dreams?”

She shrugged, looking towards the middle distance. “It depends.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well, you’ve been pretty much MIA all this week, so I’ve been a little lonely which always makes the dreams more intense.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmured against her chest. “Anything else?”

She shrugged. “Hormones are all outta wack which always makes my dreams more vivid.”

“Oh, ya know what that makes a lot of sense!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“You always get kinda mopey and anxious when you ovulate.” He grinned, his eyebrows waggling. “But sometimes it’s a little more ~fun~” 

“Ugh”

He threw his hands up. “Hey, all I’m saying is that I never initiate anything like that. I leave it up to you.” He shrugged. “That particular time is when you usually go for stuff like tha-"

“Are you tracking my menstrual cycle?” She burst out. “Because if you are, that's actually insane.”

“Not on purpose but we share a bathroom, and.” He paused, “I have a decent understanding of the cycles… so.”

“I’m actually a little scared not gonna lie.”

“April gave me a very in-depth lesson when I was younger after I  found her curled in the fetal position on my bed one day.” He frowned. “Now that I think about it she might have been exaggerating to make us do things for her.”

“Oh, she definitely wasn’t exaggerating. Periods are a living hell. You bleed outta ya coochie for like a week while your uterus decides to punch your insides.”

He pulled away, face twisted. “ I’m gonna go get more stuff.”

“Oh! That’s why you have little heating pads and Midol here!”

His eyes widened. “Did you take those pills? They haven’t been used for like years; they’re most definitely expired.”

“I checked. I threw the pack out but I was kinda wondering.” 

“Yeah, it was because of April. We left stuff for her in the bathroom and we always had a stash of chocolate and ice cream for her.”

She looked to him, “You should, like, I dunno, start doing that again.”

“I’ve already asked Drax to pick some stuff up.”

 She laughed, throwing her hands into the air “Thank you thank you thank you!”

He smiled, resting his face back on her thighs. “ I’m the best. I know. But about that dream.”

She sighed. “Not much to say. Just feels a little weird I guess.” 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Come to bed?”

He wrapped his other arm around her. “ ‘Course Ken.” 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I forgot you knotted your hair into an absolute mess!”

He grinned sheepishly as he shrugged. “Shower?”

“Lord knows you need it.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can we stay like this a bit longer?”

“Yeah.”

She worked her hands around his head, gently untangling the knots he had created as she hummed. She stopped, fingers working through a tangle. 

“Hmmm?” He looked up, eyes locked on hers. 

She laughed, a malicious grin on her face.“So you can boat!”

“THAT'S NOT HOW I WORK!” 

“Explain to me the definition of a boat then.” 

He scowled. “ A small vessel propelled on water by oars, sails, or an engine.” 

“Ah hah!” She lifted one of his arms up. “ You were using your arms to propel! BOOM! A BOAT!”

He pushed her away. “ My arm is not a pole.” 

“Whatever you say, boatman.” 

She screeched as his arm flew out, hooking around her middle and throwing her into the water. Spluttering, she floated to the surface. “Guess I touched a nerve there huh?” 

“I am not a boat, and I am not a pool toy. I am an object not to be reckoned with!”

“Whatever you say bud.” 

He sighed and lifted her out of the pool. “Let's go.” 

“Give me two seconds to grab my stuff and we’ll be right as rain.” 

He hummed in response, hoisting her over his shoulder.

“-Hrk-“ She slapped his shell. “Put me down!”

He didn’t ask another question, simply lowering her dot the ground. “You good?”

She scowled, “We had dinner like thirty minutes ago! No, I am not ‘good’ to be thrown over your shoulder like a bag of flour!”

“Sorry.”

~

The water fell from the shower head, steaming the room. She poured lavender bubble bath into the water, stirring it with her hand. Satisfied with the temperature, she turned off the faucet and went to find Othello. 

He was lying on the floor of their bedroom again, a heating lamp balanced precariously on his dresser. His fingers twitched briefly before he chirped quietly. 

Smiling, she used her foot to kick at his side. 

He startled, hands splaying to the side, his bottom jaw hitting the bottom as he clicked angrily. “How dare you attack me in my hour of sorrow!” 

“That was not an attack.” She kicked his side, “Get up or I’ll drag you there. You can pout about whatever you’re sad about later.” 

Groaning he got to his feet and grabbed the lamp as he shuffled to the bathroom. “I’m taking this.” 

“What happened to your yearning for the water?” She laughed, following him to the next room. 

He grumbled, almost too low for her to hear, and whipped his head around. “Well, I can’t swim in a BATHTUB!” 

She pointed to the tub. “In.” 

He shot her one last look before slinking into the tub. 

Placing the lamp above the tub she patted his head. “Good?” 

“Yea-” He paused, suddenly noticing the bubbles. He frowned, looking up at her. “Why?” 

Rolling her eyes she handed him a bar of soap. “Wash.��� 

He ran the bar over his arms twice before handing it back to her. 

“That’s all you’re going to do?” 

Nodding he sunk a bit deeper into the water. “I washed.”

“Absolutely not.” She flicked his head. “You really were born in a sewer you disgusting worm.” 

“We have been over that fact, yes.” He said somberly. 

She threw a bottle of body wash at him. “Lather it between your palms and then lather it into your skin. Deeper clean, lasting scent”  

Nodding slowly he rubbed the soap between his hands until it foamed before working it into his skin. 

She gave a quick thumbs up, grabbing her brush and conditioner from the tub side. Rubbing the conditioner into the worst knots, she yanked her brush through his hair.

“OW!” 

She whacked the top of his head again. “Don’t be dramatic it wasn’t that big of a knot.” 

“You nearly broke my neck!” 

“I could break other things.” 

He turned around, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Be gentle, it’s my first time.” 

Grabbing his hair she tilted his head back, making eye contact with him. “I’ll do what I want.” 

“I know.” 

She let his hair go and worked her way through the tangles. 

They sat in comfortable silence, the occasional churr breaking the quiet .“Hold on, I gotta get the shower head to get this out of your hair.” 

He didn’t say anything, just watched as she climbed on the tub wall to grab the nozzle. 

She turned the water on, letting it flow over his head when he suddenly moved. 

“Do you want to hear about something?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Yeah, you do. Ok, so there's this family, right? And they are like celebrities in their little world.” He waved his arms, tilting his head. “And they all have powers. And there's this whole prophecy telling them that they’re going to save the world. But when they go to save the world, all of them-” 

She cut off his sentence by spraying the shower head into his face.  

“I- Are you trying to waterboard me?” He managed after a moment.

“I need you to stop talking about that for a sec. You’re moving your head and I can’t properly wash it.” 

“Oh.”

“You can keep talking just maybe about something you’re a tad less passionate about.”

“So basically the whole thing is a retelling of Greek stories. Like all of the characters are derived from Greek myths. And while most of them don’t interact in mythology, they do here. And then, the main character's best friend is named after a Greek constellation! But of course the-” He paused, tensing. 

She took her hands off of his head. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

“Well, I can’t exactly form sentences when my head is being used as a gearshift.” 

Patting his shoulder she planted a small kiss to his head. “Good thing we’re done.” 

She climbed back onto the tub wall, hanging the shower head back on the hook. Turning, she hesitated slightly. 

Othello took it as an invitation, grabbing her bare waist and dragging her into the water. 

She gasped. “Wha-”

He hugged her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close. “Hi.” He whispered against her ear. 

“Hi.” She whispered back, leaning into him. 

His hands crept up her beck slowly, savoring each inch of skin they touched. Her shirt pooled around her, his hands forcing the fabric away from her. He crossed his arms against her, left hand on her right shoulder and pulled her close. 

Water dripped nearby, echoing across the bathroom walls. The sound rippled outwards, meshing with the sound of their breathing. A perfect symphony. 

She melted against him, reveling in the closeness of their bodies. How sweet it was to be so close to a lover. 

He tiled her chin up, mouth parted slightly. 

A small nod. 

He lowered his hands to her hips, lifting her barely out of the water, kissing her gently. She leaned closer, her lips pressing into his. 

He faltered, breath hot against her face.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, head resting against his shoulder. 

Lowering his head, he planted feather-light kisses against her neck. She tilted her head, inviting him closer. He moved down her neck, pressing kisses against her skin. Stopping barely above her collarbone, he shifted her to rest higher against him. 

He kissed her like there was nowhere else he’d rather be, lips traveling along her skin. He lowered his head, resting against her chest. 

“I love you, you know that right?” He murmured, breath tickling her wet skin. 

She hooked an arm around his neck. “I know.” 

He stalled. “It’s just that I don’t think you quite understand. I don’t think there's enough words in the world for me to explain just how much you mean to me. I can never tell you enough. There’s always a part of me that wants to give you more.” 

Unhooking her legs, she turned around to face him. “You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for.” 

He shook his head, “It’s not enough.” 

She frowned inching slowly up his lap. “Maybe for you.” She kissed his mouth, hard, hands tangling in his hair as she pressed herself closer. “But you are what I want.” She pressed a kiss to his neck. “I’ll never ask for more.” 

Smiling he placed a hand on the small of her back, the other against her waist, finger rubbing circles against her shoulder. “I love you.” 

She leaned against his chest. “Come to bed?” 

He sighed. “I have to finish something, Ken. " He stuck out his tongue. "Also, you taste like soap right now.” 

She nodded slowly, “You know how it goes in the shower. I’m gonna get ready for bed then.” 

“Wait!” Grabbing her arm, he pulled her back. “I know this isn’t everything you do for a shower. I don't feel as soft as you do. We can finish this and then I’ll finish my project for realsises.” He stopped, leaning back so she could look at his face. “ I can wait until tomorrow though if you want.” 

“We can finish this, but only if you come to bed before one.” She smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” 

He grinned. “I can do that.” 

She watched as he climbed from the tub, water dripping from his hair. Following behind him, she froze as he grabbed her waist. 

He gave her a lopsided smile before pushing her back. 

She gasped as the cold tile slammed against her wet back. A cool breeze coiled around her legs, sliding her arms and spilling over the back of her neck. “Eh?”

His eyes locked onto hers, fingers tracing the outline of her body. He moved closer, breath tickling her shoulder. “I was being serious.” Lifting her hips, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I can wait until tomorrow if you need.” 

Shrugging, she broke away from the wall and pulled on a pair of dry pants. "Whatever works for you. Turn around real quick."

He shut his eyes, and she yanked her wet shirt and bra over her head, pulling one of his discarded hoodies over herself. "Let's go get you all soft and purdy."

~ 

He churred against her skin. “My favorite pillows.”

She swatted at his head. “Hold still, I’m trying to do stuff here.” 

He melted closer to her. Clutching at the pillow behind her back, he eased his hand beneath the pillow to press a hand to her back. 

Opening a bottle of unscented lotion, she mixed it in her hand with the lavender-scented oil until it became a homogeneous mixture. She spread it evenly between her hands before smoothing it over his shell. 

He twitched slightly at the touch, relaxing again as she massaged in into his skin. 

“It smells so good.” He whispered against her chest, a quiet churr hidden beneath the words.

“It smells like me.” 

He nodded. “That’s why it smells so good.” 

There was silence again. Just the warmth of their bodies pressed together as she worked the mixture over his dry shedding skin. 

“Did you know I was meant to be a weapon?” He mumbled quietly, looking up. 

“No?”

He shrugged against her. “Yeah, I was meant to destroy the human race or something to save Yoki or something like that.” 

“You are really bad at your job” She laughed. “I’m not even fighting back or anything and you’ve made no move against me.” 

“Thank you for that.” He grumbled. “Would you rather I fulfill that prophecy?” 

“You and your prophecies. You seriously have got to stop reading that book I think it’s messing with your brain.” 

He smiled. “It was written by a psych major, so it’s supposed to do that.” He looked up again.  “Ok, you gotta tell me a story from your childhood now. 

“Hmmmmm. When I was younger and my dad remarried Jason’s mom I didn’t like him coming into my room because he wasn’t really my brother at that point, he was just some kid. So to keep him out I created a monster named Allen and we were best friends, but he told me that he hated Allen and if Allen ever came in the room he would eat him.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Or at least until our parents found out and then I got in trouble and they told me I couldn't do stuff with Allen to scare him anymore. But Jason was still scared so we had a really big going away party for Allen so Jason would no longer be tormented by what I had created.”

“I am frightened.” 

“Good.” She grabbed the toothbrush by the side of the couch and scrubbed at the loosened skin left over from their bath. 

He melted against her immediately, an odd noise emitting from his throat. 

“What’s that?” 

“I actually had no idea you could hear that.” He replied simply. 

“Ok, but what is it?” 

He shrugged. “Purring.” 

“You’re like a little cat! You and Mister Nubbins need to hang out more!” 

“ I am not going to ‘hang out’ with the nasty street cat you found.” 

She pouted, “But he’s so cuteeeeee.” 

“I prefer you to him.” 

Placing the toothbrush back behind the couch, she patted his shell. “I’m done, I’m gonna go find Mister Nubbins and give him the love you refuse to.” 

“Mmmno.” He tightened his grip on her back. “You’re warm. Stay.” 

“Let me sit up a bit?”

Nodding he pushed himself up and scooted over to let her get up. As soon as she settled in, he wrapped his arm around her thigh, resting his head against it. 

She grabbed her phone from the side table, taking out the camera, and snapping a quick picture. 

K- He told me he was a force to be reckoned with about an hour ago

C -He’s such an idiot sometimes I swear

C- Wanna see Cassy jr? 

K- IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION? 

She smiled at the video of Casey teetering around the farmhouse, Cali hunched over one of Casey’s stuffed animals. The video beneath her blurred and she rubbed at her eyes, the day’s events hitting her slowly

“Tello?”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m two seconds away from falling asleep right now.” 

He sat up, maneuvering her to lay across his legs. “I’ll be right here.”

“I don’t even know why.” She hooked an arm around his waist, curling her head against his plastron as she drifted off. “I didn’t do anything.” 

He ran his hand through her hair. “Sometimes it be like that.” 

~

“ 起きろケン” ( wake up Ken) 

“Eh?” 

He planted a kiss on her head. “Wake up, I finished.” 

She pulled herself off his chest, face twisted in confusion. 

Smiling he put her hand over her eyes. “It’s a surprise, you have to see it all cool.” He explained. 

“Ok?” 

Removing his hands, he revealed a small purple bot. 

“What is that?” 

“Turn around.” 

She complied, twisting so the back of her head was facing him. 

“What do you want?” 

“To go back to bed.” She grumbled. 

He laughed quietly. “Soon, but what kind of hairstyle do you want?”

“I dunno a bun?” 

The bot lit up, light purple before he placed it on the back of her head. Strands of her hair moved, pulling into a messy bun on the middle of her head. 

She turned around, eyes wide. “That’s why your hair was a mess!” 

He nodded sheepishly. “It took a lot of tries to get it right.” 

“Thank you.” She crashed into him, holding him in an embrace. 

“Course.” 

“Bed?” 

He scooped her up bridal style and carried her to their room. Laying her gently on the mattress he went to grab the heating lamp from the bathroom, attaching it above his side of the bed. 

She watched slowly, extending an arm out. 

He set a new blanket down, smoothing it over space before climbing into bed, and curling up next to her. 

“Are you getting sick or something? You’ve been attached by the hip  to that lamp all day. And the added blanket isn't helping your case.” She murmured, pressing herself closer, tracing the faint outline of his backpiece before planting a small kiss along each of the scars. 

He turned, facing her, hooking their ankles together, arm draped over her side. “Mmmmnno. It’s just getting colder so I’m sleepier than usual. And my stupid annual shed came earlier this year so I’m actually dying over here.” 

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine, just a bit itchy.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “Good night Ken. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

She smiled. “Will you remember where the dishwasher is tomorrow?” 

“One time Kendra.” He mumbled against her hair. “ One time I forget to load the dishwasher. How long are you going to hold that against me?”

“As long as we’re together.” She whispered. 

“Forever then.” He whispered back, breath tickling the top of her hair. 

She placed her head against his carapace, ear placed above his heart, listening to the constant rhythm. “Forever,”

~

if you get any of my references I LOVE YOU

i'm gonna go eat popcorn now I think

@crowleys-pockets ( you can read this one before I show you the other one tmmr. DON'T LOOK AT THE OTHER DOC TILL I'M AT UR HOUSE)

The day I get 100 notes on any of my fics is the day I start writing kendratello 🥵🤤😩 scenes by the way

JOKIN jokin jokin I’m jokin!

Maybe

[ryanthel0ser]

What if we were in hell and found peace in each other?

What if we were in a world where we didn't matter. Where we were carted around and put on display, but only worth how much you entertain your masters. Where being human meant you had a price tag, a pet put in a killing game against your will, the only drive to succeed being "survive."

And what if you saw me. What if you didn't look at me because of my talent and beauty, because I was meant to be gawked and objectified. But because of me. Because you were enamored by who I was, by the way I took in the world around me. By how much of myself I put into the world. By the way my eyes sparkle when I look at you, by the way I love to be close to you, by the way my touch feels against your skin. By the way I'd be happy just to stand by you till the end of time. And what if I felt the same way about you?

And what if we enjoyed the simple things together. What if you drew on the glass between us to make me laugh, what if we wrote a song together, what if we played in the water together, what if we watched the stars together? What if we ran away together? What if we ate together, drank together, existed together?

And what if we were never taught how to be human beings. What if we were taken from our parents before we could remember them, what if we were born without parents, what if we were raised to forget humanity as we know it?

But despite it all...something in me tells me to hold your hand. Something in me tells me to lean against you. Something in me tells me to hold you close. Something tells me to rub your back as you cry. Something in me tells me to wrap my arms around you. Something tells me to brush my fingertips against your cheek. Something in me tells me to put my lips to your skin.

Because I love you.

No matter what they do to me, no matter what they do to you, no matter what they take, no matter what they tell me to do, no matter what they force me to do.

I love you.

They can control my behaviors, what I see, where I go, who I'm with, what I wear, when I eat, when I sleep, when I speak. They can control me down to the way my heart beats in my chest.

But I will love you. I will always love you.

What if the only thing we had was love?

[ivoyzzz]

𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒

Chapter 2

synopsis: two girls the same age meet on a train and both have the same destination. while the obvious similarities, the two of you are polar opposites. you, the lively, outgoing, pink-loving girl. saebyeok, the stoic, layed-back, and serene girl. does it turn into friends, best friends, or something else?

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

warnings: none !

a/n: rewatching squid game, and why would they kill fine shyt wtf </3 anyways lmk any ideas bc im not too sure how i want this to end xoxo ivy

When Saebyeok stepped out of the train station, she felt the crisp against her skin. She was happy to be off that stuffy train and away from the overly-hyper girl sitting next to her. Saebyeok didn’t want to tell you, but she was also headed to Seoul for college, she was a music major.

Saebyeok shoved her things in and then hopped in a cab. She was headed to her dorm for the first time. She hoped her roommate wouldn’t be loud, annoying, or nosy. Someone more like herself. Someone who would just let her be.

When she stepped on the college campus, she felt an odd sense of something she couldn’t identify. Nerves? Excitement? Maybe both? Either way, it was real and it was happening.

Saebyeok unlocked the door, opening it up to see two empty beds and a bare room. Maybe she lucked out and didn’t have a roommate. She gives a soft hum looking around, it was nice. She’d better get used to it since she would be living here for the next 9 months.

She walked to the bed on the left, and set her stuff down next to it. Saebyeok kicks off her boots somewhere around the room, sitting on her bed. Just when she’s about to close her eyes and get much needed sleep, she hears the keys in the keyhole.

Saebyeok’s eyes shoot open. Why would her roommate also get here this late? But, what catches her by surprise, is you. She watched you drag your heavy pink suitcase in disbelief. Was this some kind of prank? Out of everyone that could’ve been her roommate, it had to be her?

The perky girl from the train, the one who wouldn’t let her sleep, you. Saebyeok had gotten a loud, annoying and nosy roommate. It felt like the universe was against her. What did she do to deserve this? Or maybe she was just really unlucky?

You hadn’t seen her yet, still tugging on your suitcase to get it to budge out of the doorway. When you finally make it into the room, you look up seeing the girl from the train, Saebyeok. Instead of the blank face she wore on the train, she wore a frustrated scowl.

“Mystery girl! It’s me from the train, remember?.” You say as if it was an option for her to forget you. Trust her, if it was an option she would forget.

“I remember.” She grumbles, leaning her head back against the wall.

You can practically feel the tension rolling off of her, the kind of vibe that says "I did not sign up for this." Her arms cross tightly over her chest as she glances over at you, clearly not thrilled with the situation. You can tell she’s trying her best to stay composed, but the eye roll she gives says enough about how she feels.

“Well, I guess this is it, huh?” you say with a bright, almost teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. It’s clear she’s not into the idea of small talk, but you’re determined to make this situation a little less awkward. Your determined to make Saebyeok like you, even just tolerate you.

She doesn't respond at first, just sort of watches you struggle with your suitcase for a second before she finally speaks up.

“Why are you so... loud?” Saebyeok mutters under her breath, though it’s loud enough for you to hear. The bluntness catches you off guard, but you’re not backing down that easily. She’s obviously irritated, but maybe—just maybe—you can crack that shell she’s got going on.

You take a deep breath, giving her a grin that’s borderline obnoxious but good-natured. “Guess I’m just built this way. Some people are magnets for trouble. Lucky for you, I’m stuck here with you.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s no real malice behind it—just exhaustion and frustration. "Great," she replies sarcastically, her voice dripping with a kind of dry humor that surprises you a little. "Just what I needed."

“Just keep the noise down,” she warns, though there’s a trace of something softer in her tone.

“Promise,” you say, holding up a hand like a mock oath. “No loud music, no random deep conversations at 3 a.m. I’ll be your silent, non-annoying roommate.”

Her eyebrows furrow as you said that, were you even capable of being silent? “Better be,” she mutters, leaning back into her spot against the wall again. But this time, the scowl seems a little less intense, maybe even a little more resigned.

“Come on, this is totally a sign that we have to be friends.” you laugh, moving to set your suitcase down on the bed. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you're starting to like me already.” You say, in an almost a teasing way.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, this isn’t a sign. This is just me being unlucky.” Saebyeok grumbles, obviously not too happy with the situation.

“We’ll see, I have a way of making people like me.” You say, smiling sitting on your bed to sleep.

Saebyeok doesn’t respond, but at least she doesn’t seem actively plotting how to escape either. It’s a start.