#figured this was a good place to start!! not trying to lead to a biting or anything!!

[stilettobitearch]

🥀starter call. @dxnse-macabre

the question wasn't as much about how had so many been taken by the nautiloid and had a tadpole inserted into their brain, but why ceremorphosis hadn't taken hold of any of them yet. and that wasn't even secret's first question, though her own wasn't something she felt she could voice yet.

they all had their own secrets, shadowheart's worship, and… the tiefling glanced over to astarion's tent as the sounds of the camp rustled around them, the party settling in for what would hopefully be a restful night. it made sense that he kept the whole vampire thing close to his chest, but… truthfully, secret didn't mind. she was more of a monster, anyway.

grabbing a bottle of wine, the paladin strode over and cleared her throat to announce herself.

"i wanted to talk to you, and i have wine." bold words spoken softer, not a threat. more gentle. she was practicing being gentle.

[hanasnx]

“ I CAN FEEL IT, CAN YOU FEEL IT, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING IN THE AIR ” — rafe cameron.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: kinktober; takes place in obx s4 e1 but there’s a slight change; also happy birthday @princessbrunette :) i wrote this for you in mind; and based off of the scene in f&f where dom picks letty up calling her his trophy. WARNINGS: spoiler warning for obx season 4 episode 1 ノ non canon compliant: i made rafe win the race ノ size difference ノ established relationship ノ objectification ノ impact play: ass smack ノ mild exhibitionism bcos of pda ノ praise ノ sexual content: p in v stuff ノ dirty talk.

Your feet sink into the sand as you traipse alongside RAFE CAMERON to his station in the race. His large hand envelopes yours, keeping you balanced as he leads you to his bike. The roar of revving fills your ears, loud enough for your boyfriend to have to lean down to your level to speak to you, walking you through the process and your role here. You’ve never been a flag girl before, but he told you she needs to be a “hot piece of ass” and he wants these boys heads still spinning when he wins the race. As a distraction, you were the only girl he wanted for the job.

“… and all you gotta do, baby, is make sure those guys are lookin’ at you. Show off a little something—just this once, I don’t care.” he explains, and you nod your head while brushing your hair out of your face from the wind. The two of you stand aside his bike and he mounts it, swinging a long leg over it. It creaks from his weight, and you roll your tongue between your lips. Without sunglasses, his gaze is narrowed, meeting yours in the light as he tugs you closer to him. “You look good. Prettiest girl on Figure Eight.” he assures you, the corner of his lips quirked as he checks you out. The tiniest booty shorts you could find and a stringy bikini top, you looked good enough to eat. If Rafe wasn’t so concerned with crossing the finish line while these cucks were still drooling over you, he’d be a little jealous they get such a treat. “Man, you are eye candy. Give me a twirl, c’mon.”

It eases your nerves, grinning bashfully to yourself as he raises your hand over your head, twisting on your toes to show him your outfit. He bites his lower lip hard at the sight of the underside of your ass hanging out of your shorts, and he can’t help but give you a tap. You whirl around from the swat, and catch his eyes flash up.

“Mm, baby.” he exclaims, talking about you like you’re dessert and he’s got a sweet tooth. He doesn’t give you a chance to scold him for smacking your ass around all these people, “C’mere,” he murmurs, yanking you to him until your body is draped over him on his bike. Your manicured nails brace on his chest while he steals a kiss, humming in surprise at him when he tilts his head to deepen it. Takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue along yours in a proper good-luck-kiss, which only makes for a string of spit to connect the two of you when you part. You breathe hard, chest rising and falling from thrill as you search his expression. There’s a glow of love-sickness in his eyes.

You try to milk more attention. “I don’t know if I can…” you begin, alluding to how shy you’re gonna be in front of all these people.

“Oh, don’t start that shit, you’re gonna be fine.” he dismisses, seeing right through you and shrugging you off him so you get it’s time to stop being clingy. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He plucks his helmet up, and rounds his body to place it on his head while you reluctantly leave him.

When it’s time to start the race, you hold up two bandanas—donated by some guys trying to buy you drinks—and Rafe scoffs to himself, patting himself on the back for being such a genius. “Who wouldn’t be lookin’ at you?” he thinks, while he revs his bike. You even give the crowd a little shake, your girls strapped in your bikini top swinging teasingly right before you set them off with the bow of your bandanas and the low dip of your arch. Rafe could’ve sworn one guy glanced over his shoulder to check out your ass bent over because he lost control of his steering for a second after. The race was on, and you did your job exactly how your boyfriend wanted you to.

Some kook with too much time on his hands made his way through the crowd to invite himself into your atmosphere, watching you as you eagerly await Rafe’s return and your signal to drop the flags for the winner.

A voice too close to your ear alerts you, resulting in a minute jolt of your body when he speaks. “What are you doing after this?”

Brows furrow as you glance over your shoulder at him, “Oh, uh, I dunno right now.” you reply, but you’re not showing interest. It would depend on Rafe’s victory. You refocus, keeping an eye on the horizon and the roaring metal of competitive bikes. Rejoining the crowd’s enthusiasm, you react with them when someone wipes out.

“Me and the boys were gonna head to a kegger in the boneyard. You should come.” he tells you. Again, too close for your liking. He’s not particularly bad-looking, or grabby, but you don’t like how he’s standing right next to you and stooping to speak in your ear.

You face him again to respond, but the race takes your attention away, shutting your mouth to whirl around just in time to see Rafe drive back into view, sand kicking up behind his wheel.

After a close call, he wins, and when it’s safe, the adoring crowd cheers as it floods the scene to congratulate the riders. You’re one of them, beelining to Rafe without a second thought. He’s discarded his helmet, tossing it haphazardly to the sand as he meets you.

“Ah, there’s my trophy.” he says, hands clamping onto your waist to lift you from the ground. You squeal with delight, bracing on his shoulders and kicking your feet up. Slowly he lowers you until you can wrap your arms around his neck. He’s hot and sweaty, and smells like it too, inhaling his scent deeply as you embrace him and he spins you around. You’ve completely forgotten about that kook you left behind.

“Did so good, precious, did exactly what I told you to.” Rafe murmurs against your lips, whipping his bike jacket off behind him while you lead him by his jaw deeper into his place.

“Mhm, had to give them a show. Like you said.” you exhale, nodding fervently as you press yourself to him, desperate for some friction.

“Didn’t I say you’d be fine? Huh? What’d I say?” he goads, and stoops, signaling you to jump into his arms. He catches your legs, securing them around his waist before his hand cups your backside and his other pins you to him by the back of your neck.

“I did so good!” you reply, a little perkier than you’d meant to. It breaks him out into a grin against you, and he snickers through his nose. Bringing you to his bedroom, he settles your back onto the bed.

Lips locked, and bodies tangling together, he struggles to find a spare second to keep talking, “Gonna give me my prize? You gonna put out for the winner?” His hips surge, and a familiar hard outline sweeps across the crotch of your denim.

You nod, poking your tongue out in concentration as you help him to undress fully, and you wiggle out of your booty shorts. The peek of your tongue doesn’t go unnoticed, and Rafe’s lips overlays yours, sucking on the pink tip there toyingly. You relax into it, untensing them to melt into a real kiss as the tip of something else nudges against your sex. Already wet and aching from all the teasing today, you go limp at the promise of what’s to come. Bulging mushroom head lazily thumbing in and out of your slit makes your head throw back and jerk. “Rafe…” you whine. Sodden lips mouth at your cheek and jaw, working their way down to make out with your neck as his hips shallowly rut.

Ringed fingers clutch your face, tucking your chin in the web of his index and thumb. It faces you to him, and you look up at him with doe eyes and pretty brows in an upturn. He wants to watch your reactions as he pushes in deeper and deeper, finally sheathing as you cry out. It’s a stingy stretch, and he can see your want for it in the roll of your eyes and the flinch of your delicate expression. “Yeah, baby, gimme that trophy. That’s right.”

[pucksandpower]

Stitched Together

mafia boss!Charles Leclerc x surgeon!Reader

Summary: helping a man in dire need of medical attention leads you down a road you never could have imagined

Warnings: this is a mafia romance so … yeah (gunshot wounds, drugging, kidnapping, and Mattia Binotto)

The quiet streets of Monaco glisten under the soft glow of streetlights as you make your way home from a work dinner. The night air carries a slight chill, and you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, your heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.

Suddenly, a pained groan echoes from a nearby alley, stopping you in your tracks. Your instincts as a surgeon kick in, and you cautiously approach the shadowed passage.

“Hello?” You call out, peering into the darkness. “Is someone there?”

Another groan answers you, and as your eyes adjust, you spot a figure slumped against the wall. Rushing forward, you kneel beside the man, immediately noticing the dark stain spreading across his midsection.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, your training kicking in. “Sir, can you hear me? I’m a doctor. I’m going to call an ambulance.”

As you reach for your phone, a hand weakly grasps your wrist. “No ... no hospitals,” the man rasps, his voice strained.

You frown, conflicted. “Sir, you’re seriously injured. You need medical attention.”

“Can’t ... risk it,” he manages, his breathing labored.

Biting your lip, you consider your options. “Okay, what’s your name?”

“Charles,” he replies, grimacing as he shifts slightly.

“Alright, Charles,” you say, your voice calm and steady. “If you won’t go to a hospital, will you at least let me take you back to my apartment? I’m a surgeon and I can patch you up there.”

Charles hesitates, his piercing green eyes searching your face. After a moment, he nods. “Okay.”

With some effort, you manage to help Charles to his feet, supporting his weight as you slowly make your way out of the alley. “My place isn’t far,” you assure him. “Just hang on.”

The short walk feels like an eternity, but finally, you reach your apartment building. As you fumble with your keys, Charles leans heavily against the wall.

“Almost there,” you encourage, guiding him inside and into the elevator.

Once in your apartment, you lead Charles to your couch. “Lie down,” you instruct, already moving to gather supplies. “I need to assess the damage.”

Returning with your medical kit, you carefully cut away Charles’ blood-soaked shirt. The bullet wound is clearly visible, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s not as severe as you initially feared.

“Good news,” you tell him, meeting his gaze. “The bullet seems to have missed any vital organs. I can clean and stitch this up, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Are you sure I can’t convince you to go to a hospital?”

Charles shakes his head firmly. “No hospitals. Please.”

You nod, respecting his decision despite your reservations. “Alright. This is going to hurt, but I’ll do my best to be quick.”

As you work, Charles grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “So,” he says, clearly trying to distract himself, “what’s a surgeon doing patching up strange men in her living room?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Honestly? I have no idea. I guess I just couldn’t leave you bleeding in that alley.”

“Most people would have just called the police,” Charles points out, hissing as you clean the wound.

“Well, I’m not most people,” you reply with a small smile. “And you seemed pretty adamant about avoiding official channels.”

Charles studies you for a moment. “You’re not going to ask why?”

You shrug, focusing on your work. “It’s not my place to pry. Though I have to admit, I am curious about what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

A wry smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Fair enough,” you concede. “Hold still, I’m about to start stitching.”

As you work, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re good at this,” he comments after a while.

You smile, not looking up from your task. “I should hope so. I didn’t go through years of medical school for nothing.”

“How long have you been in Monaco?” Charles asks, seemingly genuinely interested.

“About three years now,” you reply. “I came here for a fellowship at the hospital and ended up staying.”

Charles nods. “Do you like it here?”

You consider the question as you finish the last stitch. “I do. It’s beautiful, and the work is challenging. But ...”

“But?” Charles prompts when you trail off.

Sighing, you begin applying a bandage. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels a bit ... lonely, I guess. It’s not always easy to connect with people here.”

Charles’ expression softens. “I can understand that. Monaco can be a difficult place to truly belong.”

You meet his gaze, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. “Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I’ve made some friends, but sometimes I miss the sense of community I had back home.”

“Where is home for you?” Charles asks.

“Originally? A small town that feels like a lifetime away from here,” you answer. “Nothing like Monaco, that’s for sure.”

Charles chuckles, then winces slightly. “I can imagine. It must have been quite the culture shock.”

You nod, smiling. “You have no idea. But enough about me. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you,” Charles replies, attempting to sit up.

You gently push him back down. “Not so fast. You need to rest and let that wound start healing.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on keeping me hostage, doctor?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But I’d feel better if you stayed put for at least a little while. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Water would be great, thank you,” Charles says, settling back against the couch cushions.

As you move to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you can’t help but glance back at your unexpected guest. There’s something intriguing about Charles, beyond his mysterious injury and resistance to seek official help.

Returning with the water, you hand it to Charles, who takes it gratefully. “Thank you,” he says, his fingers brushing against yours as he accepts the glass.

You sit in the armchair across from him, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “So, Charles,” you begin, “what do you do when you’re not getting shot in dark alleys?”

Charles nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly before letting out a surprised laugh. “You certainly don’t pull any punches, do you?”

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Well, you did say it was better if I didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious.”

Charles regards you with amusement. “Fair enough. Let’s just say I’m in ... business management.”

“Business management,” you repeat skeptically. “That must be some high-stakes business.”

“You have no idea,” Charles murmurs, his expression turning serious for a moment before he shakes it off. “But really, I’d much rather hear more about you. It’s not every day I meet a beautiful surgeon with a penchant for rescuing mysterious strangers.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment. “There’s not much more to tell, really. I work, I occasionally have dinners with colleagues, and apparently, I moonlight as a back-alley doctor.”

Charles laughs, then winces, pressing a hand to his side. “Careful,” you warn, “You’ll pull your stitches.”

“Worth it,” Charles says with a grin. “You’re quite something, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. “You’re not so bad yourself, for a guy who got shot and refused proper medical care.”

“What can I say? I like to live dangerously,” Charles quips.

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Clearly. Though maybe you should consider a slightly less dangerous lifestyle. I can’t imagine getting shot is good for your long-term health.”

Charles’ expression turns thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ve been due for a change.”

An unexpected wave of concern washes over you. “Charles, are you in some kind of trouble? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He looks at you, surprise and something else you can’t quite place flickering in his eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” you say dryly, gesturing to his bandaged midsection.

Charles chuckles. “Point taken. But really, you’ve been incredibly kind. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just promise me you’ll be more careful,” you say, surprised by the intensity of your own words.

Charles holds your gaze, his expression serious. “I promise.”

A moment of charged silence passes between you, broken only when Charles slowly pushes himself to his feet. “I should go,” he says, though he sounds reJoristant. “I’ve imposed on you enough.”

You stand as well, moving to steady him. “Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay and rest.”

Charles shakes his head. “Thank you, but I really should be going. I have some ... matters to attend to.”

You bite your lip, concerned. “Alright. But please, take it easy. And if you need anything — if that wound gives you any trouble — don’t hesitate to come back or call me.” You scribble your number on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

Charles takes the paper, his fingers lingering against yours. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For everything.”

As you walk him to the door, you find yourself wishing he would stay. There’s something about Charles that intrigues you, draws you in despite the obvious danger surrounding him.

At the threshold, Charles turns to you one last time. “I meant what I said earlier. You really are something special. I hope our paths cross again under ... better circumstances.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, with a final smile, he’s gone, leaving you standing in your doorway, your heart racing and your mind reeling.

As Charles exits the building, he immediately pulls out his phone, his expression hardening into one of intense focus. He dials a number, speaking in a low, authoritative tone the moment the call connects.

“It’s me. I need eyes on someone, 24/7. A surgeon named Y/N Y/L/N. She’s under my protection now. No one touches her, understood?”

He ends the call, casting one last glance at your apartment building before disappearing into the night, already planning when and how he’ll see you again.

***

The glittering lights of the Hotel de Paris’ ballroom cast a warm glow over the assembled guests. You smooth down your elegant evening gown, feeling slightly out of place among Monaco’s elite. The hospital’s annual benefit gala is always a grand affair, but tonight feels different, charged with an energy you can’t quite place.

“Y/N!” A is familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Dr. Sophia Moreau, one of your closest colleagues, approaching with two champagne flutes in hand. “You clean up nicely,” she teases, offering you a glass.

You accept it gratefully, taking a small sip. “Thanks, Sophia. You look amazing too. How’s the night been so far?”

Sophia shrugs, her eyes scanning the room. “Oh, you know, the usual schmoozing and small talk. But there’s a buzz going around. Apparently, the director has some big announcement planned.”

Your interest piques. “Really? Any idea what it’s about?”

“No clue,” Sophia replies. “But whatever it is, it’s got the board members practically giddy. And you know how rare that is.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. The hospital’s board is notoriously hard to please, a fact you know all too well from your years of lobbying for transplant certification.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Dr. Henri Beaumont, the hospital’s director, takes the stage. The room falls into a respectful hush as he taps the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Beaumont begins, his voice carrying across the ballroom. “Thank you all for joining us tonight in support of our wonderful hospital. Your generosity never ceases to amaze me.”

You listen politely, expecting the usual platitudes. But as Dr. Beaumont continues, you feel your heart begin to race.

“Tonight, I have the great pleasure of announcing a new chapter in our hospital’s history,” he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Thanks to an incredibly generous donation from one of Monaco’s own, we will be embarking on a project that will revolutionize healthcare in our principality.”

You grip your champagne flute tighter, hardly daring to hope.

“Within the year, our hospital will become fully transplant certified,” Dr. Beaumont announces, his words met with a wave of gasps and excited murmurs. “And that’s not all. This donation will also fund a dedicated medical helicopter, allowing us to transport organs and critical patients with unprecedented speed.”

The room erupts in applause, but you barely hear it over the pounding of your own heart. After years of fighting, of presenting proposal after proposal, it’s finally happening.

“None of this would be possible without the extraordinary generosity of our donor,” Dr. Beaumont continues once the applause dies down. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in thanking Mr. Charles Leclerc!”

As the room once again breaks into enthusiastic applause, a figure rises from one of the front tables. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognize the man turning to face the crowd.

It’s him. The mysterious Charles from the alley, the man whose life you saved. He looks completely different now — impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo, his presence commanding the room’s attention. But those piercing green eyes are unmistakable.

“Y/N?” Sophia’s voice breaks through your shock. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Charles to look at your friend. “I ... yes, I’m fine. Just surprised, that’s all.”

Sophia raises an eyebrow. “I’ll say. This is everything you’ve been working towards. You must be thrilled!”

“I am,” you assure her, your mind still reeling. “It’s just ... a lot to take in.”

As the applause dies down and the crowd begins to disperse, you find your eyes drawn back to Charles. He’s engaged in conversation with Dr. Beaumont and several board members, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up. Your eyes meet across the room, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Excuse me,” you murmur to Sophia, setting down your champagne flute. “There’s someone I need to speak with.”

You make your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with each step. As you approach, Charles politely excuses himself from his conversation and turns to face you.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you, his voice warm. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. Leclerc,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Charles’ smile widens. “I’m full of surprises. Though I believe you already knew that.”

You glance around, noticing the curious looks from nearby guests. “Could we speak privately?”

“Of course,” Charles says, gesturing towards a secluded balcony. “Shall we?”

You follow him out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom. For a moment, you both stand in silence, looking out over the twinkling lights of Monaco.

“So,” you finally say, turning to face him. “Charles Leclerc. I’m guessing that’s not the name you usually give to people who find you bleeding in alleys.”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. But it is my real name.”

“And you’re ... what? A millionaire philanthropist?”

“Among other things,” Charles replies enigmatically.

You cross your arms, studying him. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were that night?”

Charles leans against the balcony railing, his expression turning serious. “Would you have believed me if I had? A man refusing hospital treatment, claiming to be a wealthy businessman?”

You have to admit he has a point. “I suppose not. But this ...” you gesture back towards the ballroom, “This is incredible. The transplant certification, the helicopter ... it’s everything I’ve been fighting for.”

“I know,” Charles says softly.

You blink, surprised. “You know?”

Charles nods. “After that night, I ... may have done some research. I was curious about the remarkable surgeon who saved my life without asking questions or for anything in return.”

“So this donation,” you say slowly, “it’s because of me?”

“In part,” Charles admits. “Your passion for your work, your dedication to improving healthcare here — it’s inspiring. But more than that, I saw an opportunity to do some real good. To maybe balance the scales a bit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Balance the scales? What exactly is it that you do, Charles?”

He gives you a rueful smile. “Let’s just say my business dealings aren’t always as philanthropic as tonight’s donation might suggest.”

A chill runs down your spine as the pieces start to fall into place. The gunshot wound, the refusal of hospitals, the mysterious “business management” — it all points to one conclusion.

“You’re not just a businessman, are you?” You ask quietly.

Charles holds your gaze, his expression unreadable. “No, I’m not. Are you sure you want to know more?”

You take a deep breath, considering. Part of you wants to walk away, to pretend this conversation never happened. But a larger part — the part that couldn’t leave a bleeding man in an alley, the part that’s drawn to the mystery and danger Charles represents — wants to stay.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “I want to know.”

Charles nods, respect flickering in his eyes. “Very well. But not here. This isn’t a conversation for a crowded gala.”

“Then where?” You ask.

“Have dinner with me,” Charles suggests. “Tomorrow night. I’ll answer all your questions, I promise.”

You hesitate, weighing the risks. But the memory of that night in your apartment, the connection you felt with Charles despite the strange circumstances, makes your decision for you.

“Alright,” you agree. “Dinner tomorrow.”

Charles smiles, relief evident in his features. “Thank you. I’ll send a car for you at eight.”

Just then, the balcony doors open, and Dr. Beaumont steps out. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Leclerc! And Dr. Y/L/N, how wonderful. I was hoping to speak with both of you.”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to hide your frustration at the interruption. “Dr. Beaumont, good evening.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” Dr. Beaumont says, looking between you and Charles.

“Not at all,” Charles replies smoothly. “Dr. Y/L/N was just expressing her excitement about the transplant certification project.”

Dr. Beaumont beams. “Yes, isn’t it marvelous? And it’s all thanks to your generous donation, Mr. Leclerc. We can’t thank you enough.”

“Please,” Charles says, “call me Charles. And the thanks should really go to Dr. Y/L/N here. Her proposals and persistence were what brought this need to my attention.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Well, Dr. Y/L/N, it seems we owe you a debt of gratitude as well. Your dedication to this cause has clearly paid off.”

“Thank you, Dr. Beaumont,” you manage, still reeling from Charles’ praise. “I’m just glad we’ll finally be able to offer these life-saving services to our patients.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Beaumont agrees. “In fact, I’d like to discuss the possibility of you heading up the new transplant department. Your expertise would be invaluable in getting the program off the ground.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “I ... I would be honored, sir. Thank you.”

“Excellent!” Dr. Beaumont claps his hands together. “We’ll set up a meeting next week to discuss the details. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle with our other donors. Charles, Dr. Y/L/N, enjoy your evening.”

As Dr. Beaumont retreats back into the ballroom, you turn to Charles, still stunned. “Did you have something to do with that offer?”

Charles holds up his hands innocently. “I merely suggested to Dr. Beaumont that the project would benefit from your leadership. The decision was entirely his.”

You shake your head, a mixture of gratitude and confusion swirling inside you. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Then don’t say it,” Charles replies softly. “Just promise me you’ll use this opportunity to do what you do best — save lives.”

You nod, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the events of the evening. “I should probably get back inside,” you say reluctantly. “People will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

“Of course,” Charles agrees. “I look forward to our dinner tomorrow. There’s much we need to discuss.”

As you turn to leave, Charles gently catches your hand. “Y/N,” he says, his voice low. “Whatever you learn tomorrow, whatever you decide ... know that my feelings for you are genuine. That night in your apartment, it ... it changed things for me.”

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. “It changed things for me too,” you admit softly.

Charles brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, then.”

As you make your way back into the ballroom, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You spot Sophia across the room, waving you over with a curious expression.

“Spill,” she demands as soon as you reach her. “What was that all about? How do you know Charles Leclerc?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the inexplicable situation you’ve found yourself in.

“It’s ... complicated,” you finally say. “And I think I’m about to find out just how complicated it is.”

***

As the sun sets over Monaco, casting a golden glow across the city, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment building, nervously smoothing down your dress. The sleek Rolls Royce that Charles promised pulls up, and a uniformed driver steps out to open the door for you.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you politely. “Mr. Leclerc is expecting you.”

You slide into the plush leather seat, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive through Monaco’s winding streets is brief but gives you time to collect your thoughts. Before you know it, the car is pulling up to Le Louis XV, arguably the most exclusive restaurant in all of Monaco.

As you step out of the car, you spot Charles waiting for you at the entrance. He’s impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence commanding even among the elite clientele entering the restaurant.

“Y/N,” he greets you warmly, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckles, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

As you enter the restaurant, you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the decor. Crystal chandeliers hang from intricately painted ceilings, and the soft strains of a string quartet fill the air.

The maître d’ greets Charles by name, leading you to a secluded table tucked away in a corner. Charles pulls out your chair for you before taking his own seat across from you.

A waiter approaches, offering you menus. As he leans over to pour water into your glasses, you notice his gaze lingering a bit too long on your neckline. Before you can react, Charles clears his throat sharply.

“I think we’ll need a different server,” he says, his voice cold and authoritative. The waiter pales, stammering an apology before hurrying away.

You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “That was ... intense.”

Charles’ expression softens as he looks at you. “I apologize if that made you uncomfortable. I simply don’t tolerate disrespect, especially towards someone I care about.”

His words send a flutter through your chest, but you push it aside, reminding yourself why you’re here. “So,” you say, meeting his gaze, “you promised me answers.”

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Indeed I did. But first, let’s order. This conversation may take a while.”

Once you’ve placed your orders and the new, much more professional waiter has poured your wine, Charles leans back in his chair, studying you intently.

“What do you know about the Monegasque underworld, Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You shake your head. “Not much, honestly. I know it exists, of course, but it’s not exactly something we discuss in the hospital break room.”

A small smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “No, I suppose not. Well, to put it bluntly, I am what you might call the boss of the Monegasque Mafia.”

Despite your suspicions, hearing him say it so plainly sends a shock through you. “The Mafia? Charles, that’s ...”

“Illegal? Dangerous? Morally questionable?” He finishes for you, his tone wry. “Yes, it’s all of those things.”

You take a sip of your wine, trying to process this information. “How did you end up in that position?”

Charles sighs, his eyes distant. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I inherited the role from my father. He built this empire, and when he died, it fell to me to maintain it.”

“And the gunshot wound?” You ask, remembering the night you first met.

“A disagreement with a rival organization,” Charles explains. “It’s been dealt with.”

You feel a chill at the implication in his words. “Dealt with how?”

Charles meets your gaze steadily. “Do you really want to know?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Smart,” Charles says approvingly. “The less you know about certain aspects of my business, the safer you’ll be.”

The waiter returns with your appetizers, providing a brief respite from the heavy conversation. As you start to eat, you find your mind whirling with questions.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You finally ask. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to reveal your identity?”

Charles nods slowly. “It is. But I trust you, Y/N. That night in your apartment, when you helped me without question, without judgment — it showed me what kind of person you are. And I find myself ... unwilling to lie to you.”

His honesty touches you, despite the circumstances. “I appreciate that, Charles. But where does this leave us? What happens now?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes intense. “That depends on you. I won’t lie — being associated with me comes with risks. But it also comes with benefits, as you’ve seen with the hospital donation.”

“Is that what this is about?” You ask, a hint of disappointment creeping into your voice. “You’re trying to buy my loyalty?”

“No,” Charles says firmly. “The donation was genuine. Your passion inspired me to do some good. This ... this is something else entirely.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you. I’d like you to work for me, as my personal doctor when the need arises.”

You blink in surprise. “Your personal doctor? But I’m a surgeon, not a general practitioner.”

“Exactly,” Charles nods. “In my line of work, emergency surgical skills are more valuable than routine check-ups. You’d be on call for me and my ... associates when medical attention is needed discreetly.”

You sit back, considering his words. “That sounds an awful lot like being a mob doctor, Charles.”

He doesn’t deny it. “It is. But it would also give you the opportunity to save lives that might otherwise be lost. And I can promise you, the compensation would be ... substantial.”

The waiter returns to clear your plates and bring the main course, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts. As you cut into your perfectly cooked steak, you mull over Charles’ offer.

“What about my work at the hospital?” You ask. “I can’t just abandon that, especially not now that we’re getting the transplant certification.”

Charles shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to. This would be in addition to your regular work, called upon only when necessary. Your hospital duties would always come first.”

You take a sip of wine, studying Charles over the rim of your glass. “And what if I refuse? What happens then?”

“Then you walk out of here, go back to your life, and we never speak of this again,” Charles says simply. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I trust you. If you choose not to be involved, I know you’ll keep my secret.”

His sincerity is clear, and you find yourself believing him. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

“Anything,” he replies.

“Why me? Surely there are other doctors you could approach, ones with more ... flexible ethics, perhaps?”

Charles’ expression softens. “Because you’re extraordinary, Y/N. Your skill, your compassion, your integrity — they’re rare qualities, especially in my world. And selfishly, perhaps, I want to keep you in my life.”

His words send a warmth spreading through your chest, and you find yourself at a crossroads. On one hand, everything you know tells you to walk away, to keep your life simple and safe. But on the other ...

“What would it entail, exactly?” You ask, surprising yourself.

A glimmer of hope appears in Charles’ eyes. “Primarily, it would involve treating injuries that can’t be taken to a hospital — gunshot wounds, knife punctures, that sort of thing. Occasionally, there might be a need for more ... specialized care.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Specialized how?”

“Let’s just say that sometimes, information needs to be obtained through methods that aren’t entirely ... ethical,” Charles says carefully.

You feel a chill run down your spine. “You mean torture.”

Charles doesn’t flinch from the word. “Yes. Your role would be to ensure that lines aren’t crossed, that no permanent damage is done. To save lives, even in the darkest of circumstances.”

You take a deep breath, trying to reconcile the charming man across from you with the brutal world he’s describing. “I don’t know if I can do that, Charles. It goes against everything I believe in as a doctor.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I know. And I wouldn’t ask you to participate directly. Your job would be to mitigate harm, to heal. Nothing more.”

As the waiter clears your plates and offers dessert menus, you find yourself at a loss for words. Charles watches you carefully, giving you space to process.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. Weigh the pros and cons. I know it’s not an easy decision.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve. “Thank you. I ... I will think about it.”

As you share a decadent chocolate dessert, the conversation shifts to lighter topics. Charles tells you about his childhood in Monaco, and you share stories from your medical school days. Despite the heavy subject matter earlier, you find yourself laughing and enjoying Charles’ company.

All too soon, the evening draws to a close. Charles insists on walking you out, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you exit the restaurant.

As you wait for the valet to bring his car around, Charles turns to face you, his expression serious once more.

“Thank you for hearing me out tonight, Y/N,” he says softly. “Whatever you decide, know that I meant every word. You’re an extraordinary woman, and I’m honored to know you.”

Before you can respond, Charles leans in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth in a kiss that’s both chaste and charged with potential. You feel your breath catch in your throat, your heart racing at his proximity.

As he pulls back, Charles meets your gaze, his green eyes intense. “Think about my offer. And when you’ve made your decision, good or bad, call me.”

With that, he steps back, leaving you feeling slightly dazed as the valet pulls up with his car. Charles opens the passenger door for you, ever the gentleman.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

As the car pulls away from the curb, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. You touch your fingers to the spot where Charles kissed you, still feeling the ghost of his lips.

Part of you knows you should run as far and fast as you can from Charles Leclerc and the dangerous world he inhabits. But a larger part – the part that yearns for excitement, for purpose beyond the hospital walls – is already considering his offer.

As Monaco’s glittering lights pass by outside the car window, you realize that no matter what you decide, your life will never be the same. The question is, are you ready to take the leap into the unknown?

With Charles’ business card burning a hole in your purse and the memory of his kiss lingering on your skin, you know that the decision you make will shape not just your future, but potentially the future of Monaco itself.

***

The shrill ring of your phone pierces the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake. Fumbling in the darkness, you grab your phone, squinting at the bright screen. Unknown number.

Your heart races as you answer, “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Charles’ voice comes through, tense and urgent. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

Sitting up, suddenly alert, you reply, “Charles? What’s wrong?”

There’s a brief pause before he continues, “I wish I could give you more time to consider my offer, but I’m afraid circumstances have forced my hand. One of my associates is badly injured and needs immediate medical attention.”

You can hear the strain in his voice as he continues, “If you’re willing to accept my offer, I’ll have someone pick you up right now. If not, I understand, and I’ll look for help elsewhere. But I need to know your decision now.”

Your mind races, weighing the implications. This is it — the moment of truth. Do you step into Charles’ world or walk away?

Taking a deep breath, you make your choice. “I’ll do it. Send the car.”

You can almost hear Charles’ relief through the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. A car will be there in five minutes. Be ready.”

The line goes dead, and you spring into action. Throwing on clothes and grabbing a bag with some basic medical supplies, you’re waiting outside your building when a sleek black car pulls up.

The drive is tense and silent. The driver, a stern-faced man, offers no conversation as he speeds through Monaco’s empty streets. Within minutes, you’re pulling up to an expansive, gated compound.

As soon as the car stops, the front door of the mansion flies open. Charles strides out, his face etched with worry.

“Y/N,” he greets you, guiding you quickly inside. “Thank you for coming. Follow me.”

You hurry after him through opulent hallways, your mind struggling to take in the surroundings. “What happened, Charles? Who’s hurt?”

“My right-hand man, Pierre,” Charles explains as he leads you down a staircase. “He was ambushed leaving a meeting. Took a bullet to the chest.”

You nod, your mind already racing through possibilities. “How long ago?”

“About an hour,” Charles replies, pushing open a door.

You step into what appears to be a fully-equipped operating room. On the table lies a man, his breathing labored and shirt soaked with blood.

Rushing to his side, you begin your examination. “Pierre? I’m Dr. Y/L/N. Can you hear me?”

Pierre’s eyes flutter open, filled with pain. “Y-yes,” he manages to wheeze.

You turn to Charles, who’s hovering nearby. “I need to examine him properly. Can you help me remove his shirt?”

As you and Charles carefully cut away Pierre’s bloodied shirt, you assess the wound. The bullet hole is below his right collarbone, and his breathing is increasingly strained.

“The bullet’s punctured his lung,” you announce, your mind already formulating a plan. “He needs surgery immediately. Charles, I’ll need assistance. Are you up for it?”

Charles nods without hesitation. “Tell me what to do.”

You quickly outline the procedure as you prep Pierre for surgery. “We need to reinflate his lung and remove the bullet. It’s going to be tricky, but we don’t have time to get him to a hospital.”

As you work, you fall into a focused rhythm, your years of training taking over. Charles proves to be a capable assistant, following your instructions precisely.

“Suction here,” you direct, carefully navigating the delicate lung tissue. “Good. Now hold this retractor steady.”

Hours pass in a blur of intense concentration. Finally, you step back, exhaling deeply. “I think we’ve done it. The lung’s reinflated and the bullet’s out. He’s not out of the woods yet, but his chances are good.”

Charles looks at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “Y/N, I ... thank you. You’ve saved his life.”

You nod, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion. “He’ll need close monitoring for the next 24 hours. Is there somewhere I can clean up?”

Charles leads you to an adjacent bathroom, where you wash the blood from your skin. As you emerge, you find Charles waiting, two glasses of whiskey in hand.

“I thought you might need this,” he says, offering you a glass.

You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip. The alcohol burns pleasantly, helping to calm your frayed nerves.

“So,” you say, meeting Charles’ gaze. “I guess this makes it official. I’m your doctor now.”

Charles nods solemnly. “Indeed. And I can’t express how grateful I am. Not just for tonight, but for taking this risk.”

You lean against the wall, suddenly feeling the weight of your decision. “I still have questions, Charles. About all of this. About what I’m getting myself into.”

“Of course,” Charles agrees. “Ask me anything. You deserve to know what you’re part of now.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin, “How often can I expect nights like this? And what exactly is the nature of your ... business?”

Charles considers his words carefully. “Nights like this are, thankfully, rare. Most of what I’ll need from you will be more routine — treating minor injuries, regular check-ups for my key people. As for my business ...” He pauses, taking a sip of his whiskey. “It’s complex. We have interests in various sectors — some legitimate, some less so. Gambling, real estate, import and export. And yes, sometimes that involves activities that aren’t entirely legal.”

You nod slowly, processing this information. “And the violence? The rivalries that led to Pierre getting shot?”

“An unfortunate reality of our world,” Charles admits. “We try to minimize it, but conflicts do arise. My goal is always to resolve things peacefully, but sometimes ...” He gestures towards the operating room, where Pierre lies recovering.

“I see,” you murmur. “And my role in all this? Beyond providing medical care, I mean.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Your role, Y/N, is to be a light in this sometimes dark world. To save lives, to minimize harm. And perhaps ... to remind people like me that there’s good in the world worth protecting.”

His words touch something deep inside you, and you find yourself nodding. “I think I can do that.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only when a monitor in the operating room beeps. You both rush to check on Pierre, finding his vitals stable.

As you adjust his IV, you ask, “So, what happens now? Do I just ... go home and wait for the next emergency call?”

Charles shakes his head. “Not quite. I’d like you to stay here for the next day or so, to monitor Pierre’s recovery. After that, we’ll set up a more formal arrangement. You’ll have a secure phone for communications and a driver on call for when you’re needed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And my regular job at the hospital?”

“Remains your priority,” Charles assures you. “This work will always come second to that. I don’t want to jeopardize your career or the good you do there.”

Relieved, you nod. “Alright. And ... us? Where do we stand?”

Charles steps closer, his eyes intense. “That is entirely up to you. My feelings haven’t changed since our dinner. But I understand if this is too much, too complicated.”

You find yourself drawn to him, despite the rational part of your brain screaming caution. “It is complicated. But ... I can’t deny there’s something here. Something worth exploring.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, genuine and warm. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll take it slow, see where this leads us.”

Just then, Pierre stirs on the operating table, groaning softly. You both move to his side, your instincts taking over once again.

“Pierre?” You call softly. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first but then settling on you. “Who ... where am I?”

Charles steps into his line of sight. “You’re safe, my friend. This is Dr. Y/L/N. She saved your life tonight.”

Pierre’s eyes widen in recognition. “The surgeon ... from the alley. You recruited her?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a long story. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” Pierre croaks, attempting a weak smile.

You check his vitals as you explain, “The bullet punctured your lung. We’ve repaired the damage, but you’re going to need time to recover. No strenuous activity for at least a month.”

Pierre nods, then looks to Charles. “The meeting ... did we get the information?”

Charles places a hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “We did, thanks to you. But don’t worry about that now. Focus on getting better.”

As Pierre drifts back to sleep, you turn to Charles. “He needs rest. And so do we, for that matter.”

Charles nods in agreement. “I’ll show you to a guest room. We should both try to get some sleep before morning.”

As you follow Charles through the mansion, the events of the night start to catch up with you. By the time you reach the luxurious guest suite, you’re practically swaying on your feet.

“Get some rest,” Charles says softly. “I’ll have some fresh clothes brought for you in the morning.”

As he turns to leave, you catch his hand. “Charles ... thank you. For trusting me with this.”

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “No, Y/N. Thank you for taking this leap of faith. Sleep well.”

As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, your mind whirling with the night’s events. You’ve crossed a line tonight, stepped into a world you never imagined being part of. But as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.

For better or worse, your life will never be the same again.

***

As the weeks pass following that fateful night, you begin to notice subtle yet undeniable changes in your daily life. It starts with a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched that you can’t quite shake. At first, you dismiss it as paranoia, a natural reaction to your new connection with Charles’ world. But then you start to catch glimpses — a man in a dark suit lingering across the street from your apartment, a familiar face that seems to pop up wherever you go.

One morning, as you’re grabbing coffee before work, you decide to confront the situation. Turning abruptly, you lock eyes with a tall, broad-shouldered man who’s been tailing you for the past few blocks.

“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

The man looks momentarily surprised before his face settles into a neutral expression. “Mr. Leclerc assigned me to ensure your safety, Dr. Y/L/N. I’m not meant to interfere with your daily life.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And does Charles think I need a bodyguard to get my morning coffee?”

The man — you decide to call him Shadow in your head — gives a small shrug. “Mr. Leclerc believes in being thorough. I’m here to protect you from any potential threats.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine. But can you at least try to be a little less ... obvious? I don’t need my colleagues at the hospital getting suspicious.”

Shadow nods. “Of course. I’ll maintain a more discreet distance.”

As you continue your walk to the hospital, you can’t help but feel a mix of irritation and a strange sort of warmth at Charles’ protective instincts.

The surprises don’t stop there. Later that week, you return home from a long shift to find a large, elegantly wrapped package outside your door. Curious, you bring it inside and carefully open it.

Inside, you find a stunning designer handbag — one you vaguely remember admiring in a shop window weeks ago. Attached is a simple note:

A beautiful bag for a beautiful doctor – CL

You can’t help but smile, even as you shake your head at the extravagance. Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to Charles.

The bag is gorgeous, but you really didn’t have to.

His reply comes moments later.

I wanted to.

Is it not to your liking?

You chuckle, typing back.

It’s perfect. But you don’t need to shower me with gifts.

Perhaps not. But I enjoy it. Allow me this small pleasure?

Rolling your eyes fondly, you respond.

Fine. But nothing too outrageous, okay?

You can almost hear his chuckle in his reply.

I make no promises.

True to his word, the gifts keep coming. A rare first edition of your favorite medical text. A pair of ridiculously comfortable designer shoes that somehow fit perfectly. Each accompanied by a note signed simply “CL”.

But it’s not just the material things that change. One day, as you’re buried in paperwork at the hospital, a delicious aroma wafts into your office. You look up to see your colleague standing in the doorway with a bag from your favorite local restaurant.

“Special delivery,” Sophia says with a grin, setting the bag on your desk.

You blink in surprise. “I didn’t order anything.”

Her grin widens. “No, but apparently you have a very thoughtful admirer. This has been showing up every day for the past week. The nurses have been taking turns bringing it up.”

Your cheeks flush as you open the bag, finding a perfectly prepared lunch and another note from Charles.

Sophia leans in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, who’s the mystery man? Anyone I know?”

You quickly tuck the note away. “It’s ... complicated. We’re still figuring things out.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophia says, clearly not buying it. “Well, whoever he is, he’s got good taste. In food and women.”

As Sophia leaves, you can’t help but smile. Despite the complexity of your situation with Charles, these small gestures warm your heart.

The changes extend beyond gifts and food, though. You start to notice that things at the hospital seem to be running more smoothly. Bureaucratic hurdles that used to take weeks to clear now resolve themselves in days. Equipment requests that were once denied due to budget constraints are suddenly approved.

One afternoon, you’re in a meeting with Dr. Beaumont, discussing the progress of the new transplant center.

“I must say, Dr. Y/L/N,” Beaumont says, beaming, “the speed at which we’re moving forward is remarkable. It’s as if all the red tape has simply ... vanished.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suspecting Charles’ influence but unable to confirm it. “Yes, it’s ... quite fortunate.”

Beaumont leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think our generous donor, Mr. Leclerc, might have something to do with it. He seems to have friends in high places.”

You force a neutral expression. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

Beaumont chuckles. “Let’s just say that certain government officials who were dragging their feet on approvals suddenly became very cooperative after a few calls from Mr. Leclerc’s office. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

As you leave the meeting, your mind is whirling. You appreciate the help, but the extent of Charles’ influence is starting to sink in. That evening, you decide it’s time for a face-to-face conversation.

You send Charles a text.

We need to talk. Dinner tonight?

His reply is almost immediate.

Of course. I’ll send a car. 8 PM?

At eight sharp, you find yourself being ushered into an exclusive rooftop restaurant. Charles is waiting, looking as handsome and composed as ever in a perfectly tailored suit.

He stands as you approach, pulling out your chair. “Y/N, you look lovely.”

You sit, fixing him with a serious look. “Charles, we need to discuss a few things.”

His expression turns concerned. “Is everything alright?”

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “The bodyguard, the gifts, the lunch deliveries ... it’s all very sweet, but it’s a bit much. And the thing with the hospital — are you pulling strings to make things happen?”

Charles listens intently, his face unreadable. When you finish, he leans back, considering his words carefully.

“I apologize if I’ve overstepped,” he says finally. “The protection is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. Your safety is paramount to me. But if the gifts make you uncomfortable, I can scale them back.”

You nod, relieved he’s listening. “And the hospital situation?”

Charles sighs. “I may have ... encouraged certain officials to be more cooperative. But I assure you, it was all above board. No bribes, no threats. Just a gentle reminder of how beneficial the new transplant center will be for Monaco.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Gentle reminder, huh? And I suppose your reputation had nothing to do with it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of Charles’ mouth. “I may have a certain ... influence. But I used it for a good cause. The transplant center will save lives, Y/N. Isn’t that what matters?”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charles reaches across the table, taking your hand. “I know my world is very different from yours, Y/N. I’m trying to bridge that gap, to make things easier for you. But if I’m going about it the wrong way, tell me. I want you to be comfortable with this ... with us.”

The sincerity in his eyes touches you. “I appreciate that, Charles. I do. I just ... I need to feel like I’m still in control of my own life, you know? Like I’m not just being swept along in your wake.”

Charles nods, squeezing your hand gently. “I understand. From now on, I’ll consult you before making any decisions that affect your life. No more surprises. Well, fewer surprises, at least.”

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate. “I suppose I can live with that. But maybe we can compromise on the bodyguard situation? I don’t need a shadow 24/7.”

“How about this,” Charles proposes, “The security detail maintains a distance unless you’re entering or leaving your apartment or the hospital. They’ll be there if you need them, but not constantly in your space. Would that work?”

You consider for a moment, then nod. “I can live with that. Thank you for listening.”

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Always, Y/N. Your happiness and comfort are important to me.”

As the waiter approaches to take your order, you find yourself relaxing, enjoying the evening with Charles. The conversation flows easily, touching on your work at the hospital, Charles’ legitimate business ventures, and your shared love of classical music.

By the time dessert arrives, you’re feeling more at ease with the situation than you have in weeks.

“Charles,” you say, savoring a spoonful of soufflé, “I have to ask. How did you know about the handbag? The one I admired weeks ago?”

A mischievous glint appears in Charles’ eyes. “I have my ways. Let’s just say I pay attention to the things that catch your eye.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees with a smile. “But admit it, you’re starting to enjoy it.”

As you leave the restaurant, Charles’ hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you realize that he’s right. Despite the complexity, despite the lingering concerns about his world, you are enjoying this. Enjoying him.

Charles walks you to the waiting car, opening the door for you. Before you get in, he catches your hand, his expression turning serious.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that I treasure what’s growing between us. I know my world is complicated, often dangerous. But with you ... I see a possibility for something real, something good. I hope you can be patient with me as we navigate this.”

Touched by his honesty, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I? We’ll figure it out together.”

As the car pulls away, Charles watching from the curb, you lean back in your seat, a small smile playing on your lips. Your life has certainly become more complicated since that night in the alley. But as you reflect on the past few weeks — the challenges, the surprises, the growing connection with Charles — you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.

***

The cool evening air greets you as you exit the hospital, your shift finally over. You roll your shoulders, easing the tension from a long day of surgeries. As you walk towards your car, your mind drifts to Charles, wondering if he’ll be free for a late dinner.

Suddenly, a sharp prick in your neck startles you. Before you can react, a wave of dizziness washes over you. The world tilts, your vision blurring. You try to call out, but your voice fails you. As darkness encroaches, your last conscious thought is of Charles.

When you come to, it’s to a pounding headache and disorientation. You blink, trying to focus. The room is dimly lit, cold, with bare concrete walls. As awareness creeps back, you realize you’re strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles bound tightly.

Panic rises in your throat, but you force it down, trying to assess the situation. You’re still in your scrubs, which means you haven’t been unconscious for too long. There are no windows, no indication of where you might be.

The creak of a door opening snaps your attention forward. A man enters — relatively tall, curly-haired, with a scar running down the left side of his face. His eyes, when they meet yours, are cold and calculating.

“Ah, Dr. Y/L/N,” he says, his voice carrying a slight Italian accent. “So good of you to join us. I hope you’re comfortable.”

You glare at him, finding your voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man chuckles, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mattia Binotto. And as for what I want ...” He leans in, his gaze intense. “I want Charles Leclerc.”

Your heart races, but you keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mattia’s laugh is harsh. “Come now, Doctor. Let’s not play games. I know all about your ... relationship with Charles. I’ve been watching you both for quite some time.”

“Why?” You demand, tugging futilely at your restraints. “What does Charles have to do with this?”

Mattia leans back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Everything, my dear. You see, I used to work for Charles’ father. I was his right-hand man, his most trusted advisor. And how did the old man repay my loyalty? By kicking me out, exiling me from Monaco.”

You listen, your mind racing. Charles had mentioned conflicts within the organization, but this ... this was something else entirely.

“So this is about revenge?” You ask, trying to keep him talking.

Mattia’s eyes flash dangerously. “Revenge, yes. But also reclamation. What was taken from me, I intend to take back. And you, my dear doctor, are the perfect bait.”

Fear claws at your insides, but you push it down, channeling it into anger instead. “Charles won’t fall for this. He’s smarter than that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on his intelligence,” Mattia says, standing up and beginning to pace. “You see, Charles knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. He’ll come for you, make no mistake. And when he does ...” Mattia’s smile is chilling. “Well, let’s just say I have quite the reunion planned.”

You struggle against your bonds, your mind whirling. “You’re insane if you think you can take on Charles and his entire organization.”

Mattia stops pacing, turning to face you. “Insane? No, Doctor. Prepared. I’ve spent years planning this, gathering allies, waiting for the perfect moment. And you ...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You jerk away from his touch. “You are the key to it all.”

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl, glaring up at him.

Mattia chuckles. “Feisty. I can see why Charles is so taken with you. It will make breaking you all the more satisfying.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. “If you hurt me, Charles will-”

“Charles will what?” Mattia interrupts, his voice mocking. “Come charging in to save you? That’s exactly what I’m counting on, my dear.”

You fall silent, realizing that every word you say is potentially giving Mattia more ammunition. Instead, you focus on studying your surroundings, looking for any potential way out.

Mattia seems to sense your shift in focus. He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “Don’t bother looking for escape routes. This room was designed to hold people far more dangerous than you. You’re not going anywhere until Charles arrives.”

Pulling back, he checks his watch. “Speaking of which, I imagine he’s discovered your absence by now. Shall we give him a call?”

Your eyes widen as Mattia pulls out a phone — your phone. He scrolls through your contacts, finding Charles’ number.

“No, don’t-” you start, but Mattia silences you with a sharp look.

He puts the phone on speaker as it rings. After two rings, Charles’ voice comes through, tense and worried. “Y/N? Where are you? Your security detail lost track of you hours ago.”

Mattia’s grin is triumphant as he speaks. “Hello, Charles. It’s been a long time.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Charles responds, his voice low and dangerous. “Mattia. If you’ve hurt her, I swear-”

“Now, now,” Mattia interrupts. “Your precious doctor is fine. For now. Whether she stays that way depends entirely on you.”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t listen to him! It’s a trap!”

Mattia backhands you, the slap echoing in the small room. “Quiet!”

“Y/N!” Charles’ voice is anguished. “Mattia, I’m warning you-”

“You’re warning me?” Mattia laughs. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making threats. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come alone to the address I’m about to send you. If I see any of your men, if I even suspect you’ve involved your friends in the police, the good doctor here will suffer the consequences. Understood?”

There’s a tense pause before Charles responds. “I understand. Let me speak to her.”

Mattia considers for a moment, then holds the phone closer to you. “Make it quick.”

“Charles,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth-”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Charles interrupts, his voice intense. “I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I promise, I’ll make this right.”

Before you can respond, Mattia pulls the phone away. “How touching. You have one hour, Charles. Come alone or she dies.”

He ends the call, turning to you with a satisfied smirk. “And now, we wait.”

The next hour is agonizing. Mattia leaves you alone in the room, your mind racing with possibilities, each worse than the last. You test your restraints, but they hold firm. The chair is bolted to the floor, leaving you no way to move.

Just when you think you can’t take the suspense any longer, the door opens. Your heart leaps, thinking it might be Charles, but it’s Mattia who enters, followed by two burly men.

“It seems your knight in shining armor has arrived,” Mattia announces, his eyes glinting with malice. “Let’s make sure we give him a proper welcome, shall we?”

He nods to one of the men, who moves behind you. You feel the cold press of a gun barrel against your temple.

“Is this really necessary?” You ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

Mattia shrugs. “Insurance, my dear. Can’t have you trying anything heroic when Charles arrives.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion outside the room. The door bursts open and Charles strides in, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N,” he breathes, relief and worry warring in his expression.

“Charles, no,” you plead. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s a trap!”

Mattia steps forward, clapping slowly. “Bravo, Charles. Right on time, and alone, as instructed. I must say, I’m impressed by your obedience.”

Charles tears his gaze from you to glare at Mattia. “Let her go, Mattia. This is between us.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mattia replies, circling around to stand behind you. He places his hands on your shoulders, and you struggle not to flinch. “You see, your lovely doctor here is my insurance policy. Insurance that you’ll listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

Charles’ jaw clenches, but he remains still. “Say your piece, then.”

Mattia’s grip on your shoulders tightens. “It’s quite simple, really. I want what’s rightfully mine. The position your father stole from me, the respect I deserve. You’re going to step down, hand over control of the organization to me, and leave Monaco. Forever.”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t do it! You can’t trust him!”

The gun presses harder against your temple, silencing you.

Charles’ eyes flick between you and Mattia, his expression unreadable. “And if I refuse?”

Mattia’s laugh is cold. “Then you get to watch your beloved doctor die, slowly and painfully, before I kill you too. Your choice, Charles.”

The tension in the room is palpable as Charles considers his options. You try to catch his eye, to silently communicate that your life isn’t worth the price Mattia is demanding. But Charles’ gaze is fixed on Mattia, his mind clearly racing.

Finally, Charles speaks, his voice eerily calm. “You’ve made one critical mistake, Mattia.”

Mattia’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? And what’s that?”

A small, dangerous smile plays at the corner of Charles’ lips. “You assumed I came alone.”

In that instant, several things happen at once. The lights in the room suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. You hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by several muffled thuds. Someone grabs you, and for a moment you panic, thinking it’s Mattia. But then a familiar voice whispers in your ear.

“It’s me, Y/N. Hold still.”

It’s Pierre. You feel him cutting through your restraints. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you make out shapes moving in the room — Charles’ men, you realize, taking down Mattia’s guards.

When the lights flicker back on, the scene has completely changed. Mattia and his men are on the ground, subdued by Charles’ team. Charles himself is standing over Mattia, a gun pointed at his head.

“You’re right, Mattia,” Charles says, his voice cold. “This was between us. You should have left Y/N out of it.”

As Pierre helps you to your feet, you stumble, your legs weak from being bound for so long. Charles is at your side in an instant, supporting you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “I’m okay. How did you ...”

Charles manages a small smile. “Did you really think I’d come unprepared? My men were in position before I ever entered the building.”

You lean into him, relief washing over you. “I thought ... I was so scared you’d give in to his demands.”

Charles’ arm tightens around you. “Never. I would never let him hurt you, Y/N.”

As Charles’ men secure Mattia and begin to lead him away, you turn to Charles. “What happens now?”

Charles’ expression turns grim. “Now, we make sure Mattia can never threaten us again. And then ...” He looks down at you, his eyes softening. “Then we talk about upgrading your security. Because I’m never letting something like this happen again.”

***

The morning after your harrowing ordeal, you find yourself seated in the hospital’s main conference room, feeling as though you’ve stepped into some sort of surreal dream. To your left sits Charles, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Across the table, the hospital’s board of directors fidget nervously, their eyes darting between you, Charles, and Dr. Beaumont, who sits at the head of the table.

The tension in the room is palpable as Dr. Beaumont clears his throat. “Well, Mr. Leclerc, Dr. Y/L/N, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice. I understand there’s been some ... concerns about security?”

Charles leans forward, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. “Concerns would be putting it mildly, Dr. Beaumont. Dr. Y/L/N was kidnapped from your parking lot last night. I think that warrants more than just concern.”

You can see the color drain from Dr. Beaumont’s face. “Kidnapped? I ... we had no idea. Dr. Y/L/N, are you alright?”

All eyes turn to you, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “I’m fine, thank you. It was a ... misunderstanding that’s been resolved.”

Charles’ hand finds yours under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “A misunderstanding that could have ended very differently. Which is why we’re here to discuss new security measures.”

Dr. Beaumont nods, still looking shaken. “Of course, of course. What did you have in mind?”

“Two of my personal security team will accompany Dr. Y/L/N at all times while she’s on hospital grounds,” Charles states, his tone brooking no argument.

There’s a moment of stunned silence before one of the board members, Dr. Rossi, speaks up. “Mr. Leclerc, while we certainly understand your concern, having armed guards in a hospital environment is highly unorthodox. It could make patients uncomfortable, not to mention the potential liability issues ...”

Charles’ eyes narrow. “I’m not particularly concerned with what’s orthodox, Dr. Rossi. I’m concerned with Y/N’s safety.”

You decide to intervene, hoping to smooth things over. “Perhaps we could find a compromise? The security team could maintain a discreet distance, only stepping in if necessary?”

Dr. Beaumont latches onto this suggestion eagerly. “Yes, that sounds more reasonable. We could provide them with visitor badges, allow them access to staff areas ...”

“No,” Charles cuts in firmly. “They stay with Y/N at all times. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Another board member, Dr. Chen, leans forward. “Mr. Leclerc, please understand our position. We have protocols, regulations to follow. Having armed personnel constantly present could jeopardize our accreditation.”

Charles’ smile is cold. “I’m sure exceptions can be made, Dr. Chen. After all, I’d hate to think that the hospital values bureaucratic red tape over the safety of its star surgeon.”

The implied threat hangs heavy in the air. You can see the administrators exchanging nervous glances.

Dr. Beaumont attempts to regain control of the situation. “Now, let’s not be hasty. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that satisfies everyone. Mr. Leclerc, what if we were to increase our own security measures? Install more cameras, hire additional guards ...”

Charles shakes his head. “Not good enough. My men are highly trained professionals. They stay with Y/N.”

You can see the frustration building on the faces of the board members. Dr. Rossi tries again. “Mr. Leclerc, please be reasonable. We can’t just allow civilians to roam freely through sensitive areas of the hospital. There are privacy concerns, not to mention-”

“I think you misunderstand me,” Charles interrupts, his voice dangerously soft. “This isn’t a request. It’s happening. The only question is whether you choose to cooperate or not.”

The threat in his words is unmistakable. You watch as the color drains from Dr. Rossi’s face.

Feeling the need to defuse the tension, you speak up. “Perhaps we could implement this on a trial basis? See how it works for a month and then reassess?”

Dr. Beaumont seizes on this suggestion like a lifeline. “Yes, excellent idea, Dr. Y/L/N. A trial period would allow us to address any issues that arise and make adjustments as necessary.”

Charles considers this for a moment before nodding slowly. “A trial period is acceptable, provided there’s no interference with my security team’s duties.”

Relief is palpable around the table, but it’s short-lived as Charles continues.

“Of course, I understand this arrangement may cause some ... inconvenience for the hospital. To that end, I’m prepared to make an additional donation to help smooth things over.”

The board members perk up at this, their expressions shifting from worry to interest.

Dr. Beaumont leans forward eagerly. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Leclerc. What sort of donation did you have in mind?”

Charles’ smile is predatory. “Let’s say ... sixteen million euros, to be used at the hospital’s discretion. Provided, of course, that my security requirements are met without further argument.”

The room falls silent as the enormity of the offer sinks in. You can practically see the dollar signs in the administrators’ eyes.

Dr. Chen is the first to recover. “Mr. Leclerc, that’s an incredibly generous offer. I’m sure we can work out the details of the security arrangement to everyone’s satisfaction.”

Charles nods, satisfied. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, shall we discuss the specifics?”

What follows is a detailed negotiation of the security protocols. You watch, somewhat bemused, as the very same administrators who were stammering objections moments ago now fall over themselves to accommodate Charles’ every demand.

By the end of the meeting, it’s agreed that Charles’ security team will have full access to all areas of the hospital, will be allowed to carry concealed weapons, and will have final say on any security matters relating to you.

As the meeting wraps up, Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Dr. Y/L/N, I hope you know that your safety is our utmost concern. If there’s anything else we can do ...”

You manage a small smile. “Thank you, Dr. Beaumont. I appreciate the hospital’s flexibility in this matter.”

As you and Charles stand to leave, Dr. Beaumont calls out, “Mr. Leclerc, a word in private, if you don’t mind?”

Charles nods, turning to you. “I’ll be right out, Y/N.”

You exit the conference room, your mind whirling. As you wait in the hallway, you overhear snippets of the conversation inside.

Dr. Beaumont’s voice, low and eager, “... sure there isn’t anything else we should know?”

Charles’ reply, cool and dismissive, “... all you need to concern yourself with ...”

A moment later, Charles emerges, his expression softening as he sees you. “Ready to go?”

You nod, falling into step beside him as you walk towards the elevator. “Don’t you think this is all a bit ... excessive?”

He stops, turning to face you. “After what happened last night, I’m not taking any chances with your safety. I can’t lose you.”

The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You reach out, touching his arm gently. “You won’t lose me. But Charles, this is my workplace. I need to be able to do my job without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I’m sorry if this complicates things for you. But please, just give it a chance. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

You study his face, seeing the worry lines etched around his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Despite your reservations, you find yourself nodding. “Alright. We’ll try it your way. But if it becomes too disruptive ...”

“Then we’ll reassess,” Charles finishes, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you, Y/N.”

As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. The world of medicine, with its clear rules and ethical guidelines, seems far removed from Charles’ realm of shadowy deals and armed guards.

“Charles,” you say as the elevator descends, “what exactly did Dr. Beaumont want to discuss in private?”

Charles’ expression turns guarded. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just some details about the donation.”

You’re not entirely convinced, but you decide not to push it. As the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the sight of two men in suits — clearly Charles’ security team.

Charles nods to them. “This is Andrea and Joris. They’ll be your primary security detail.”

You force a smile, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you both.”

Andrea and Joris nod respectfully, but their expressions remain impassive. You can already tell that this is going to take some getting used to.

As you walk through the hospital lobby, you’re acutely aware of the stares and whispers from staff and patients alike. Charles seems oblivious to the attention, but you feel your cheeks heating up.

“Charles,” you murmur, “people are staring.”

He glances around, then shrugs. “Let them stare. Your safety is more important than gossip.”

You’re about to argue further when you spot Sophia rushing towards you, her eyes wide with concern.

“Y/N!” She exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I heard you were in some kind of trouble last night. Are you okay? And who are these guys?”

You extract yourself from Sophia’s embrace, acutely aware of Charles and the security team watching. “I’m fine, Sophia. Really. It was just a misunderstanding. As for these gentlemen ...” You gesture vaguely. “They’re, um ...”

“Private security,” Charles interjects smoothly. “In light of recent events, we felt it prudent to take extra precautions.”

Sophia’s eyes dart between you and Charles, clearly bursting with questions. “Private security? Y/N, what’s going on?”

You can feel a headache building behind your eyes. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later, okay?”

She nods, though her expression says this conversation is far from over. “Okay, but you owe me details. Lots of details.”

As Sophia walks away, you turn to Charles with a sigh. “This is going to be a nightmare to explain to everyone.”

Charles’ expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I need you safe. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing the mix of concern and affection there, you feel your resistance crumbling. Despite the complications, despite the danger, you know that what you and Charles have is worth fighting for.

“Together,” you agree softly.

As you head towards your office, flanked by Andrea and Joris, with Charles by your side, you can’t help but feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter of your life. One filled with more danger and complexity than you ever imagined, but also with a depth of love and protection you never thought possible.

The hospital corridors stretch out before you, familiar yet somehow changed. You take a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them head-on — with Charles (and now apparently with an armed escort) by your side.

***

A year later, life has settled into a new normal. You’ve grown accustomed to the peculiarities of being the personal physician to Monaco’s most powerful man, including the late-night calls and the sometimes bizarre injuries.

Tonight is one of those nights. You’re in Charles’ private medical suite, nestled within his sprawling mansion, tending to yet another gunshot wound. The room is state-of-the-art, rivaling any hospital, but with a touch of luxury that screams Charles.

“Ow! Easy there, mon cœur,” Charles winces as you clean the wound on his upper arm.

You roll your eyes, but there’s affection in your voice as you reply, “Maybe if you’d stop zigging when you should be zagging, we wouldn’t be here so often.”

Charles attempts a charming smile, but it turns into a grimace as you start preparing the sutures. “You know I can’t help it. Danger follows me everywhere.”

“Mhmm,” you hum skeptically. “And I’m sure you do nothing to encourage it.”

As you begin stitching, Charles lets out an exaggerated groan. “Y/N, you’re torturing me. Is this revenge for forgetting our dinner reservation last week?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “If I wanted revenge, I’d let Pierre patch you up instead. Now hold still, unless you want a scar to ruin your perfect skin.”

Charles pouts, looking more like a petulant child than the feared boss of the Monegasque Mafia. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Only a little,” you admit with a smirk. “Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

As you finish the last stitch, Charles flexes his arm experimentally. “You know, for someone who claims to care about me, you’re awfully indifferent about my pain.”

You start cleaning up, shaking your head in amusement. “Stop getting shot if you don’t want stitches.”

Charles’ hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. “But it hurts,” he whines playfully. “You should kiss me, treat me with care. I’m your patient, you should be good to me.”

You laugh, gently extracting yourself from his grip. “Nice try. But doctor’s orders are rest and recovery. No strenuous activity for at least a week.”

Charles’ eyes widen in horror. “A week? You can’t be serious. What am I supposed to do for a whole week?”

“I don’t know,” you tease, “maybe try not getting into gunfights? I hear it’s good for your health.”

Charles stands, testing his arm’s mobility. “You know that’s not what I meant. Come on, mon amour, surely there are some ... activities we could engage in that won’t strain my arm?”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “No sex, Charles. You’ll pull your stitches.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Charles groans dramatically, flopping back onto the examination table. Then, a mischievous glint appears in his eye. “What about just a little ... oral attention? That won’t affect my arm at all.”

You can’t help but laugh at his persistence. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charles grins, clearly thinking he’s won. “But you love me anyway.”

“God help me, I do,” you admit, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “But the answer is still no. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Charles sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. But you owe me when I’m healed.”

“I’ll make it worth the wait,” you promise with a wink. “Now, let’s get you to bed. And I mean for sleeping, mister.”

As you help Charles to his feet, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You know, this whole stern doctor act is incredibly sexy. Maybe we could role-play once I’m better?”

You playfully swat his uninjured arm. “Behave or I’ll have Pierre stand guard outside our door to make sure you rest.”

Charles chuckles as you guide him out of the medical suite and towards the bedroom. “You wouldn’t dare. Pierre’s terrified of walking in on us after last time.”

The memory makes you blush. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look him in the eye.”

As you reach the opulent bedroom, you help him settle into bed. He catches your hand as you turn to leave. “Stay with me?” He asks, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way few people ever get to hear.

Your resolve melts. “Just to sleep. I mean it, Charles.”

You kick off your shoes and climb into bed beside him, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Charles immediately pulls you close with his good arm, nuzzling into your neck.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Not just for this, but for everything. For patching me up, for putting up with my dangerous life, for ... for loving me despite it all.”

The sincerity in his voice touches you deeply. You turn in his embrace to face him, cupping his cheek gently. “Charles, I don’t love you despite your life. I love all of you, dangerous parts included. Though I could do with fewer midnight patch-up sessions.”

Charles chuckles softly. “I’ll try to schedule my injuries for more convenient times in the future.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “How about trying to avoid injuries altogether?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Charles teases, but then his expression turns serious. “I know my life isn’t easy, Y/N. I know I ask a lot of you. If it ever becomes too much ...”

You silence him with a gentle kiss. “Stop right there. I’m not going anywhere. I knew what I was getting into, and I choose this — I choose you — every day.”

Charles’ arms tighten around you, mindful of his injury. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not,” you agree with a smirk. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”

As you lay there in comfortable silence, your mind drifts to the events of the past year. The increased security measures, the close calls, the exhilarating highs and terrifying lows of being part of Charles’ world. It hasn’t been easy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“What are you thinking about?” Charles asks softly, noticing your contemplative mood.

You trace lazy patterns on his chest as you answer. “Just ... everything. How much has changed in a year. How different my life is now.”

Charles tenses slightly. “Do you ever regret it? Getting involved with me, I mean.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him properly. “Never. It’s crazy and dangerous and sometimes I think I must be out of my mind, but I’ve never been happier.”

The relief on Charles’ face is palpable. “Even when I wake you up at ungodly hours to stitch me up?”

“Even then,” you assure him with a smile. “Though I reserve the right to be grumpy about it.”

Charles laughs, then winces as the movement jostles his arm. “Fair enough. I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t accidentally stitched anything embarrassing into me yet.”

You grin mischievously. “Don’t give me ideas. I’m sure ‘Drama Queen’ would look lovely across your bicep.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Charles gasps in mock horror.

“Try me,” you challenge playfully. “Keep whining about your injuries and find out.”

Charles pulls you closer, nuzzling into your hair. “Alright, alright. I’ll be a model patient from now on.”

You snort in disbelief. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

As Charles’ breathing evens out, you find yourself marveling at the turn your life has taken. From a chance encounter in a dark alley to this — sharing a bed with one of the most powerful men in Monaco, patching up bullet wounds in the middle of the night.

It’s not the life you ever imagined for yourself, but as you feel the steady beat of Charles’ heart beneath your hand, you know it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. Dangerous, complicated, and wonderfully yours.

You press a soft kiss to Charles’ chest, careful not to wake him. “I love you,” you whisper, knowing that no matter what challenges tomorrow brings, you’ll face them together.

As sleep begins to claim you, your last coherent thought is a mix of amusement and affection. You make a mental note to stock up on lollipops – it seems your most frequent patient has a penchant for post-treatment rewards, and you have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of his pouty face in the future.

But that’s okay. Because for every whine, every pout, every dramatic sigh, there’s also the fierce protectiveness, the tender moments, and the love that radiates from Charles in everything he does. It’s a package deal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to Charles and let sleep take you, ready to face whatever adventures — or misadventures — tomorrow might bring.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

For the next part,

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Ateez | The Type To

Hongjoong

toothless smiles. you'll never get enough

knows every little fact about you. it's all stored in his head

but can't always figure out your mood, where he needs your help

picks your clothes or accessories sometimes

lets you do the same

more of the dating-inside kind of guy, but makes the most of when you do go out

if he's busy, he'll acknowledge you with a smile and then go back to work and forget you're there

because he likes to focus on one thing at a time

and when he's not busy he's all yours

but when he is busy and you decide to play naughty, he will focus on the task ahead- you.

and make you regret (in the best way) interfering with his work

which has become your thing now

calls you his 'muse' and def makes you feel like one

esp with the way he kisses you and makes you feel like a puddle

he really doesn't stop his hands from going anywhere he pleases

fav place might be at your hip

or fingers in your hair- might take a liking to tug your hair back to make you look at him at times

which is when he'll give you the most sultry look and tell you exactly what the events following will ensue of

def the type to hold you against the wall and move across the room while you make out

laughs between kisses oh goodness-

teases the fck out of you and makes you a whimpering mess

spends alllll his energy on you but still takes care of you after

bites-

the type to make you watch yourself too- like if you can see him taking you in some reflective surface or a mirror, all the better

and then you won't believe the filth that'll come out of his mouth (tho you love it when he mumbles dirty little things in your ears)

also has his soft moments, which are so intimate that sometimes you feel overwhelmed with love

and he'll constantly assure you he's here, here with you, forever :')

does the most meaningful things for you- brings you your fav food, reforms your clothes or accessories for you, paints with you, lets you try doing something with his music samples, etc etc

he's your captain

Seonghwa

pass you subtle glances from across the room

hold your hand and lead the way whenever you're out

make you walk on the inside of the sidewalk

mother you in every way-- wiping your mouth with his sleeve, fix your hair, fix your clothes, fix you

scold you in the most loving tone possible

which makes you wonder if you're actually getting scolded because you start to get heart eyes

never make you feel insecure- it hurts him more than it hurts you

details. details in everything he says and does (flashbacks to his fav colour being 'glossy silver chrome' like who are you i don't know you-)

which means your dates are detailed asf. he'll have everything planned out and make sure you have the best time

but also love it when you take him out on impromptu dates

scans your face before he kisses you

forehead kisses. temple kisses. it's his thing

plays with you a lot (take your mind out of the gutter i'm talking about actual games like the board games or whatever)

but also plays with you a lot- *coughs*

tongue.

also his fingers are kinda long so-

will pick you up in the middle of your makeout session and take you somewhere more comfortable

goes hard, but it takes him a millisecond to turn soft

and he's the best softie ever.

he's gonna take his sweet time exploring every nook and cranny of your body, learning everything about you

learning what you like

and you'll most of the times feel like it's your first time all over again- that's def how he makes it feel like

tho he certainly spices things up every time

it's just he makes you feel so safe and loved

also i feel like you both bring out the playfulness in each other, in both romantic and platonic ways

he's such a romantic.

he's also capable of driving you insane with his facial expressions alone

takes care of you when you're tired, makes sure you're good, tucks you into bed, spoons you, lulls you to sleep :')

Yunho

okay hear me out-

he is literally your best friend

and i mean in the way best friends know each other inside out

and the way they know exactly how you're feeling by just glancing at you

so with yunho, you always feel safe. his constant vocal and physical reassurances keep you grounded at all times

so you wish to do something in return for him-

but he assures you that you, just like this, are enough

he's not hard to please in that way. he's not demanding but he's not making you feel like he's not interested in you either. he's got that perfect balance

the most comfortable presence out there is what i'm saying

(maybe this^ was my delulu thoughts ok now to the real shit-)

he's always looking at you to make sure you're okay, or there,

but sometimes, something turns him on and his eyes change

and he really, really can't hide when he's turned on. he starts picking at his lips while giving you the most sultry gaze

sometimes you pretend not to notice

which is when he becomes unexpectedly playful and teasing

he knows what his hands on your body do to you (turn you into jelly is what they do btw)

so he's going to give you a backhug and while he kisses your neck or ear, he's going to let his hands travel all over your body

or when sitting on his lap, he'll let them rest on your thighs- purposefully

and we all know what purpose those long fingers could serve

he's def the type who'll cuddle into you while lovemaking- like bury his face in your neck, in the crooks. you think that's soft? he can make it a hard moment too.

groans into your ears 100 % and that sound might be one of the hottest things you've heard

and when he mumbles things in your ears? his voice goes new levels of deep you never heard before.

kisses you like you'll break

also loves pinning you to surfaces

fully capable of manhandling you (lovingly, ofc)

likes experimenting a lot with you, figuring out what you like and what you don't like together

big spoon most of the times you bet

jokes around a lot with you too- he never makes you feel overwhelmed in any situation

but he is also fully capable of driving you insane at times *coughs*

best caretaker you know it

Yeosang

i'm having a vision- what starts as savage remarks thrown at each other turns into a challenge, turns into another different sort of challenge

we'll get there later

cafe dates. chocolates. you better be ready to satisfy his sweet tooth

you love complimenting him bc 9/10 times he's gonna respond with a shy smile that made you fall in love in the first place

he's usually teasing you bc that's his love language but is also the most genuine person you know

so whenever he compliments you or tells you how much he loves you, you know it's straight from the heart

holds your hand whenever he gets the chance

will kiss it too

shy kisses at first

until he gets turned on and his eyes change and the inner demon that we seen in halazia comes out oof

gentle kisses. demanding kisses. we-have-all-the-time-in-the-world kisses. i might be lacking in my vocabulary

hands cradling your face- that's what makes you weak

is pretty vocal and wants you to be vocal too when he does something new or even in routine

there's this switch in him- y'all be having a soft moment and his switch gets flipped and then he's just... banging. wild.

loves foreplay

might have a thing for placing his hand on your throat too i mean he has his moments

and he also lets you have your moments which is sth you love about him

i feel like he loves to drive you to the edge multiple times before he finally lets you have your way

which is hot asf

but is also so nervous about making sure you're okay, you're good with whatever he's doing

so he's gonna spoil you when he takes care of you, which might probably lead to a round two-

anyways time to touch some grass <3

San

this mf istg- *breathes*

okay he's such an eye candy do you think you'll be interested in anything else other than just staring at him 24/7 whenever you're with him-

let's not let these intrusive thoughts win and dive deeper :D

so yeah he is a nature admirer and when he takes you out, you do admire nature but you admire him more

esp the curves and edges of his face

and when he catches you, he gets shy. like actual shy

rewards you with a sweet kiss

and a good old hug

but sometimes, things get... heated instead

so he raises his eyebrow and goes sth like 'you done staring'?

and if you toss a sarcastic remark next (9.9/10 times you do), he'll just attack you

flirts with you in public

unintentional flirt most of the time

his kisses have a wide range spectrum. from being the most slow, gentle, i-might-break-you-if-i-hold-you-wrong kisses to hot, open-mouthed, i-am-going-to-break-you kisses (i cannot englishi-)

and he's really not shy in lovemaking. he knows what he's doing. he takes advantage of it

loves driving you to the edge too. will take so long to actually get to the real deal, just playing with you first and cornering you and driving you insane ugh

the type to pull you into his lap and make you straddle and ride him

tongue-

tbh i feel like it can get really filthy with him in the best way possible

but also, he's the softest when he's in the mood

and you love that he can switch

the type to shut you up with a kiss

also the type to hold you by your chin and have a staredown with you whenever you tease him

which just leads to other things-

hugs

lots and lots of hugs. hugs of every kind.

his laugh heals you :(

he'll always tell you he's there for you, he loves you, how imp you are to him :(

pocket sized hehe

Mingi

he's a princess so he deserves princess treatment. the end.

no but he's such an unfiltered personality i feel like in the sense that it just shows what he wants

you can see it in his eyes when he wants a hug, when he wants to leave some place, or when he wants to steal the last bite of your food-

also very good at reading you even if you argue that you're not that readable

to him you will be bc he pays attention to every little detail

the kind to throw his arm around you while you walk

bonus if it's winters and he wraps you in his coat

the type to tie a scarf around your neck and then pull you with it and give you a kiss

his kisses are the meaningful sort. you can tell by his kiss what mood he's in

like if he's slow and he sighs in between, he's probably feeling down. if he's gonna act naughty you'll know what he wants

which makes it easier for you to lead things

lets you lead most of the time too

unless he's feeling some type of way

and when he's feeling that type of way, you're in for a banger (pun intended maybe)

i feel like he's really good with his core strength even when dancing so uhh just go ahead and imagine

fingers. (getting shy at this point)

probably gives the best head

like can you imagine the tip of his nose brushing at the your most sensitive parts-

likes when you run your hands through his hair

likes to tug your hair even more

might have a marking kink like he'll like it when he can see what he's done to you

but he's also the most responsive and comfortable during intimacy

and can go on forever, makes you feel like you can go on forever with him

cuddles with you when you're done, cuddles long and good

will shower with you and 9 out of 10 times that means a second round-

softie. absolute softie at times ;-;

Wooyoung

you both love to drive each other insane. you'll fight a lot at most random things, end up laughing in the middle of an argument, tease tf out of each other

but at the end of the day there's no one you'd rather be with

he feeds you like his life depends on it

which means he'll make you food, he'll get you to try different things when you go out, and he just likes it when you're happy with food

takes care of you subconsciously- like wiping your mouth, fixing your clothes, rolling your sleeves when you're eating, etc- he doesn't do it on purpose, it's ingrained in him to take care of you

intentional flirt.

which means he makes you flushed with embarrassment in public

he knows how to rile you up, and oh, when you're riled up-

you know you'll go home all heated up which will def result in a hot makeout session

he's not shy to show you how much he likes it when you're making out so he's very vocal

and we all know about his degradation kink LMAO he loves it when you show him his place in the middle of making out

and you love it when he begs for you to do sth

but he's also very, very good at making you beg, oh, he'll push to to the edge and make you fucking cry before he gives you what you want

his hands everywhere on your body.

mumbles things in your ears, dirty things

and then bites you earlobe

you just love it when he breaks away in the middle of making out and pushes your hair back, all the while scanning your face as if making sure you're real before smiling the purest smile ever :(

and when he evil smiles? you know you're in for a ride quite literally

switches most of the time

satisfies you in ways you didn't know were possible

quite possibly plays a lot with you- might have a thing for tied wrists (his or yours, whatever you're feeling like)

keeps telling you how beautiful, how perfect you are, and when he says it? you never feel like he's lying. you start to believe it

boosts your confidence 10000x

honestly he has a contagious energy so you kinda sometimes turn into wooyoung too and he just 🧍

aftercare is a whole new level with him

hugs you to sleep <3

Jongho

he sings for you. what more do you want? :')

you'll have to hide apples from him tho LOL

being with him is very comfortable and... peaceful. like he brings out the calm in you

tho when he cracks a dad joke you start to reconsider-

but he's adorable

slaps your butt at the most random times

and then giggles before he runs away

gives you backhugs at the most random times too

likes to peck your cheeks while you're sitting in his lap watching sth with him

which sometimes makes you kiss him

usually starts slow but there's a certain sense of urgency behind that kiss sometimes

which makes it into a heated makeout session

stares into your soul when he breaks away to catch his breath

dry humping follows

likes seeing exactly what his actions make you feel like

shy at first but he's also confident asf

and he's... strong

it just drives you crazy when he pins you as he thrusts into you like there's no way you can break free from that

and why would you? ;)

has a thing for necks i've said it before i'll say it now

and he knows exactly how to please you

which means that when he's in the mood, he's gonna drive you to the edge multiple times before letting you have what you want

sometimes lets you do the same to him

he loves it when you're on top of him and ride him. perfect place for him to hold your butt and squeeze it

really good at aftercare, makes sure you're feeling good too

bear hugs after. cuddles

kisses you multiple times before settling down

sings you to sleep :( (i'll always end jongho imagines with this line)

[xoluvx]

absolutely in love with everything you write, and i've been thinking a lot about billie lately 🤭 could i request a fic/blurb about dom!billie letting us top her for the night since we've asked so nicely but further into the night, she just thinks we look so pretty while thrusting our strap into her and she can't help but flip our positions. thank u so much! ❣️

darling, this request is just *chef's kiss* thank you on my knees for you any day msg me. also join the club once you start thinking of billie you don't stoooop

her tongue traced shapes on your neck as your eyelids fluttered feeling her thigh press between your thighs. you held your arms under hers as she supported her weight careful not to crush you. her teeth sunk into your skin, lips wrapping around your neck.

"baby," you hummed wrapping your fingers tightly around her arms and raising your hips.

"yes?" she mumbled against your neck preoccupied by the pulse of your blood pumping through your veins on the tip of her tongue.

"can i-" you swallowed unable to concentrate on your words, but also trying to figure out a way to express what you wanted.

billie trailed her lips to your jaw before landing on the corner of your lips. her nose brushed yours as your eyes met. she was flushed, hair falling on her face. lips swollen.

"can you what princess?" she asked resting her hand on your neck, thumb feeling the way your throat moved, swallowing and finding your words.

"can i use the strap on you?" you asked shyly. the words sounding so foreign on your tongue. had you worded that properly? was she going to be offended? you dug your fingers into her forearm feeling the way her muscles flexed.

billie bit her lip, her eyes filled with lust. she looked at you like she wanted to ravish you and she very much did. she was enamoured with the way you were looking at her. your eyes big in anticipation. lips parted breathing softly even though your heart was beating rapidly and the oxygen in your lungs was dwindling.

"okay. since you asked so nicely," she whispered as your brows raised her thumb ran along the side of your face. you relaxed into her touch. she kissed your forehead before getting off the bed. you followed her naked body with your eyes, holding on to the sheets under your own nude body.

"do you need help getting it on?" her voice sweet but laced with a hint of playfulness.

you nodded as she looked down smiling. almost blushing. she was being so-

so-

you couldn't think. your mind was foggy. she held her hand out and you took it sliding off the bed. you stood in front of her as she sat taking the strap. her hands touched your skin in the places the strap clung to your body. she traced the outline before looking up at you. then she leaned back, body propped on her elbows. legs opening for you. eyes watching you carefully.

you approached her sinking into the mattress, hands on either side of her body. your lips found hers in a slow kiss as the strap hung between your bodies. she let you kiss her, let your hands cup her face, down her neck, and the side of her body until your fingers dug in her skin.

then you held the fake cock running it between her folds. it glided so smoothly spreading her wetness. she bite her lip muffling the sounds that roared from deep in her belly. you were focused on the dildo between your bodies watching the shaft glide up and down until you were centered at her entrance and she was swallowing it whole.

hands fisting the bedsheets, head tossed back in pleasure. it disappeared in her pussy and you pulled out just to watch it happen all over again. you held her knees as you thrusted establishing a steady pace. not too fast, but not too slow either. just perfect. she wrapped around the strap so perfect.

billie forced herself to look at you. watching you concentrate on her pleasure. asking her if this was okay or if she wanted you to go harder. she let you take the lead.

you just looked so fucking good fucking into her. thrusting and biting your lip in concentration. she brought one hand out to hold your hips wanting to feel your skin. then she spread it over your abdomen feeling you flex each time you thrusted.

"so fucking pretty," she mumbled through gritted teeth as you increased the pace, whimpering at her delight and compliment. she couldn't hold herself back any longer. she loved the way you moved and she knew she'd given you permission to fuck her, but oh my god she wanted to fuck you so hard right now. you were a mouth watering sight.

she lifted her body flipping you so quickly it took you a moment to process what was happening. with less than three movements she'd removed the strap, clung it to her skin, and opened your legs. she slid into you effortlessly and the familiarity of the cock made you moan.

you wrapped your arms around her shoulders as she leaned down pressing her body on yours. she moved her hips in a steady pace slamming into your pussy. skin slapping. cock hitting all the right places. your mouth hung open as your moans bounced off the walls. your legs wrapping around her waist as she buried herself deeper and deeper in your pussy.

you were going to cum. you felt it coiling so tight, you were aching.

"you looked so pretty fucking me," she turned her face to whisper in your ear. the compliment made your pussy clench harder and your whimpers grew louder.

"but you look even prettier when i fuck you," she emphasized licking the shell of your ear before biting. lips messily linking to your neck as your impeding orgasm caused temporary blindness. she knew just what to say and how to move to make you lose your mind.

[munsonluhvr]

MAMA, I'M IN LOVE WITH A MECHANIC (PART 1)

mechanic!eddie munson x receptionist!reader, no warnings. ❀ part 2 & part 3 coming soon...

“No, that’s not-“ Joyce Byers begins to say as she gently pushes you to the side of the register with a frustrated, yet gentle, sigh. “It’s like this,” she says, pushing the metal buttons of the cash register, making the cash drawer pop out towards you. You frown, biting your lips as embarrassment creeps across your cheeks. On the other side of the register, the teen-boy customer looks between you and Joyce with an impatient look. 

It’s your first day as the new receptionist at Munson’s Timeless Tune-Ups, a car repair shop owned by Wayne Munson and his nephew Eddie Munson; though, so far, you’ve only met Wayne. Joyce, the current receptionist, is moving to California for a ‘new start’ she told you, and you are learning her ways, or trying to learn at least. 

It’s only 1pm, and already your head is beginning to ache. Since 7am, you’ve been learning how to work the register, schedule appointments, and learn automotive terminology in order to tell Wayne and Eddie the issues the customers are having with their vehicles – and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake in applying for this job. 

“You’ll get the hang of it, y/n. Don’t worry,” Joyce says, offering you an encouraging smile though you question her transparency. So far, you haven’t figured out the register quite yet. She moves a few paces to the side, pulling out a box cutter from her back pocket and bending down towards the small pile of cardboard boxes that rest behind the counter. “Mind helping me with these?” Joyce says, gesturing towards the boxes. You nod, leaving from behind the register to help. 

Together, you and Joyce cut the boxes open, revealing various types of air fresheners and other car accessories, placing them neatly on the racks on the wall. Munson’s Timeless Tune-Ups is a small, humble shop, the register adjacent to the garage area where the Munson’s fix the cars. The office is small, the register placed on top of a wooden table. Off to the right, the wall is covered with things to purchase, small pamphlets explaining different car issues. The windows that line the wall allow for ample sun to flush into the office, making it bright. 

Behind you, the telephone rings loudly, causing you and Joyce to jump. Joyce drops the product she holds back into the box and moves towards the telephone. You hum softly, continuing to place the little packets of air fresheners onto their hooks. You’re living in your own mind until Joyce inhales sharply and then places the phone back onto the hook. “Y/n, I’m so sorry to have to do this, especially on your first day, but my son Will needs to be picked up from school,” Joyce says, moving quickly to collect her jacket and purse from the chair. “I don’t think the Munson’s have many cars left to do so you won’t have to worry about using the register, hopefully they’ll give you exact change.” 

You try to maintain a smile, though panic is beginning to settle into you. You barely can use the register, somewhat know how to schedule appointments, and ask the right questions to write down for the Munson’s, but what are you to do without Joyce? “O-Okay, Joyce.” 

“Just be sure to lock up, the keys are on the hook by the door.” Joyce gestures towards the door that leads into the garage part of the shop where a set of keys dangle on the hook. You nod, biting your lip again to ease your anxiety. “Good luck.”

“I hope your…“ you begin to say as Joyce pulls the door open. “…son feels better,” you finish, though Joyce is gone before you can finish your pleasantry. You sigh to yourself, looking at the several boxes that are left to unbox, price, and put onto the wall.  You continue your work, pleased that you at least have something to keep you busy until the shop closes. 

Off in the distance, somewhere in the garage, you can hear Wayne and who you assume is Eddie, chatter back and forth, listening to the radio loudly. Occasionally there is a loud bang, a clank, of the last of the customers cars behind repaired. Your fingers are laced with angst, the anticipation of not knowing how to use the register, or anything really, making it hard to concentrate.

Working in the quiet of the office is disturbed when the chime of the front door signals a customer. Placing your hands on your knees to lift you up, you turn towards the door ready to greet the customer but the male standing in the doorway is covered in grease, dirt marks tattering his bare arms and glistening chest. He has long, dark, curly hair, a red bandana covering the top of his head. This must be Eddie. 

“So, you must be Joyce’s replacement. Y/n, right? Aren’t you pretty,” Eddie says bluntly, moving towards the water dispenser in the corner of the office. Your eyes widen, goosebumps raising on your skin as you watch him walk past the front of the register. “Thanks,” you mumble, looking down at the surface of the register counter. 

“Wayne said this is your first day on the job,” Eddie says, glancing at you. His eyes graze the length of your body as you places a small, paper cup underneath the spicket and then push the lever for water. “How’s it going so far?” 

You flush under his sight, feeling every curve and inch of your flesh under scrutiny. You clear your throat, trying to glance at Eddie casually. God, he’s so gorgeous. “F-Fine. Joyce had to leave but I think I can manage.” 

Eddie hums, taking a few paces to sit in the chair that’s a few inches from you. He sighs loudly as he sits, kicking his feet out to rest on the register counter, blocking you in. He leans his head against the wall, looking at you. “I’m sure you can, I believe in you,” he says with a wink. You smile, then look away, sitting on the stool directly behind the register. 

He’s wearing a white, cotton tank top, that’s now see-through due to sweat. His jeans are covered in dirt marks, his yellow steel-toed boots now dark brown with dirt. His fingers are covered in silver rings, a silver chain adorning his defined chest. You feel your core begin to melt. 

“I just need to rest a minute, the garage has been so busy today,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyelids. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

You shake your head, glancing at him quickly. “Of course not. Plus, it’s your shop.” 

“My uncle’s shop, I merely work here. Plus,” Eddie says mimicking you, “you were in here in silence and I had to come in here and disturb that.”

You shrug, a little smile creeping across your mouth. “I don’t mind the company.” 

Eddie hums softly again, opening his eyes only to flash you a little smile. You two sit in silence for only a moment when the last customer saunters into the office. “May I pay?” he asks, looking between you and Eddie. You nod, turning away from Eddie and to the customer. 

The panic begins to set in again as you stare at the metal keys of the antique cash register. You take the yellow slip from the customer, looking towards the bottom for the total that Wayne has written. You recall Joyce’s protocol on how to use the register and you follow them confidently, feeling Eddie’s eyes on you. You punch in the numbers and wait for the cash drawer to slide open – but nothing happens. “Um,” you say nervously to the customer. “Sorry, let me try again.” 

You try again yet come to the same result. You clench your jaw, heat beginning to creep up your neck. ‘Why me?’ you think to yourself.

“Let me help,” Eddie says, taking his feet of the counter. He stands up, sliding up beside you close enough that your arms brush. He punches in the total on the register, a few other buttons, and the cash register opens up with a ding! Your fingers work quick to take the customer’s bill and exchange it with the exact change. “Have a nice day,” you murmur, moving to sit back on the stool, your line of sight aimed at the floor.

Once the customer leaves, Eddie moves around from behind the counter, moving towards the front door where the customer left only seconds before. “It was nice meeting you, y/n. I can already tell I’ll be hanging in the office a lot more.” Eddie says, turning towards where you sit on the other side of the office. Before you can reply, Eddie slips out the door. 

[soxcietyy]

Racer Yuuta pt3

Yuta x fem reader

Continuation of part 2

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚ forbidden love, brat taming, 5 year age gap, 18 + content, exhibitionism.

Arriving at the place he tells you to wait in the car as he goes to fetch you some water. You comply only because you felt so tired. He kindly rolled the window down for you so you could get some fresh air. Closing your eyes you began to relax. You could hear chattering from the people outside but it wasn’t enough to bother you. You wernt about to tell people they couldn’t speak or so you thought.

"Y/n! I’m surprised to find you in Yuutas car! I thought you said there was nothing going on with you two." Mahito says as he standing at your door.

You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Also Yuuta wouldn’t be so happy just like last time. If you didn’t want to be scolded then you would have to shoo him away before your boyfriend got here.

You tell Mahito that you actually figured things out and to leave you alone. He obviously didn’t care since he was still standing here. You also couldn’t roll the window up because Yuuta took the keys. You groan as he kept pestering you about how he saw Yuuta with another girl last week. You didn’t care about that though because you didn’t know him till three days ago!!!

"You don’t look like a taken women, where’s the ring? The marks? Or his hoodie?" He says inspecting you up and down.

"Look Mahito I’m kind of busy right now. I need to actually go look for Yuuta." You say as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. You could not be seen with this man. He’s had been blowing up your phone since that day you met him and you regrets sharing your contact information.

"There’s no need for that because he’s coming this way." He says pointing at Yuuta who was walking back with a water bottle in his hand. He obviously wasn’t wearing his normal smile either. You sink into your chair as you cover your face with your hands. This was not going to end well for you.

"May I help you?" Yuuta said trying to sound nice even though his face didn’t really help.

"Oh no I’m just catching up with my friend here." Mahito laughed as he grabbed your shoulder playfully. You would quite use the word friend to describe your relationship at all.

"That sounds wonderful and all but we really need to go." Yuuta said as he gets in the car and drives off to the other side on the area. He drove where all the other competitors parked. He pulled up your window not wanting the same thing to happen again.

Your eyes grew big once you saw the cars. They look so good and unique. Yuuta ended up parking next to Itadori and the same girl you saw Yuuta talking to the day you met him. He turns to look at you and asks you about what Mahito said to you. You tell him everything but emphasize that you wanted no part of the conversation.

Yuuta let out a simple "tsk" as you finished speaking. "I don’t think you need anything to let people know your mine." He said clearly pissed off about what that guy said.

Then you said something you shouldn’t have.

"What if he’s right? A hickey wouldn’t hurt." You say shyly.

He turned to look at you surprised. "There’s no way you’re agreeing with him y/n. Plus hickeys are so tacky."

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed in the response. "Maybe just one wouldn’t hurt." You mumble.

Yuuta looked at you for a second before pushing his chair back and leaning it down. He then pats his lap for you to crawl on. Was this him saying yes to the hickey? That was actually so easy.

You comply and sit there comfortably. Then he leads you to his lips and kisses you. It was a really slow and passionate kiss that had you melting. He makes you strap his lap as he bites your lip. You let out a groan from the sudden pain. This gave him his an easy opening and starts exploring once he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You could feel as his hands were being occupied your chest as he groped them roughly. Your hands go up to his hair as your fingers intertwine with his hair. His very soft, silky, jet black hair that smelled of coconut.

His hands then decide to go to your behind. He groped them and massaged them to his pleasure. Loving the way the filled his hands up. You follow his lead by pulling his member out of his pants. Nobody would see what you were about to do since your back was facing them. So jerking him off while you made out wouldn’t hurt.

"Since you want everyone to know who you belong to." He said in between kisses. "I guess we’ll have to show them right?" Yuuta said as he abruptly lifted your skirt up. You gasp and try to turn around to pull your skirt down but his grabs you and pulls you down so you would be laying on top of him with your ass in the air.

You look at him horrified, "what are you thinking?!" You say trying escape his grasp.

"Just showing the world who my girl is." He said as he forced your hands to lay on the small of your back as he used his other hand to remove your panties. With one hard tug the string to your panties broke.

"Yuuta!" You yell furiously.

"Now this is a side I have yet so see." He smirks at you. "Such a feisty girl huh?" "You wanted this Angel, just look at everyone around us with there phones out. Taking photos and videos of your adorable little cunt." He said as he aligned his member with your hole. In one swift motion he slammed himself inside making you shutter.

You moan as he pumped himself in and out of you. You wernt a virgin but you also wernt that experience in this. You grip tightly the hand that Yuta was holding you trapped with. This was not how you imagined your first time with him being.

"I guess Gojo was right, you do get everything you want. Such a spoiled little brat."

You could feel how he stuffed you so much that your stomach felt full. If it wasn’t for Mahito you wouldn’t be in this mess. If it wasn’t for you agreeing with that man you wouldn’t be doing this. This was so embarrassing and so vile. The second this stopped you were going to go off on this boy. You could wait to tear him into pieces. Even better you should just wreck this stupid car. Destroy everything he loves because he just destroyed your dignity.

You called him so many names that you wouldn’t be able to count. Everytime you did he would just laugh and go harder in you.

"Yuuta please I’m begging you to stop! I don’t like this at all! I’m so sorry for agreeing with him, I’m so sorry for everything." You moan

"But your gripping me so tight down there, are you sure we didn’t just discover a kink of yours? Lets see." He said as he pulled out and turned you around. He grabbed your legs and opened them wide infront of everyone.

You squeeze your eyes shut not being able to look at everyone because this was too embarrassed. That’s when he slipped inside you again and started plowing you. You throw your head back onto Yuutas shoulder from the pleasure as he used you. It felt so fucking good, so much better than you imagined. You hated that you loved it. You loved the feeling of having his cock inside of you, his heavy breathing, his moans, the wet sounds, and the little praises he gave you here and there. Eventually you were on the verge of releasing but you couldn’t do this infront of all these people.

"Hey look isnt that uncle Gojo over there?" Yuta points out as he’s still going in and out of you. You look up tiredly and make eye contact with him from afar. That’s when you start frantically thrashing around for Yuuta to let go of you. Though this boy had the strongest grip on you.

You couldn’t let Gojo see you like this, this was going to be the worst thing ever.

"Yuuta let go! You had your fun torturing me so let go! Please, oh god." You cry feeling the wave of pleasure suddenly hit you 10x harder.

Your body began to shake as you came all over his member. Your vision was blurry and a loud moan escaped your lips.

"Fuck, atta girl. Relax and release." Yuta praised you as your tense body started to shut down. He pulled out of you and let your body rest on the steering wheel as he pumped his cock a few more times before ejaculating. You could hear him huff in satisfaction.

On the other hand you were just thinking about all those videos and photos that were going to be circulating on the internet. Not only that but the fact that Gojo saw you in such an embarrassing way. you had to come up with a plan but maybe later because you couldn’t think quite right right now. You hug the steering wheel as Yuuta cleaned up his own mess.

"That was so good, I had no idea I was so pent up." Yuuta said cheerfully as if he didn’t just do something horrible. He noticed that you wernt responding because you were genuinely upset.

He wrapped his arms around you as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. "Don’t be upset y/n, do you want to know something?" You sat there in silence but he still continued. "These windows are so tinted to the point where it’s illegal. Meaning nobody saw a thing."

Your anger stopped and turned into something worst. You turned to look at him and then

*smack*

Yuuta didn’t bother to doge it because it was well deserved. Before you could say the most jaw dropping thing a knock on the window was heard. You both look to see it was Gojo. Yuuta tapped your thigh indicating for you to move back to your seat. As you crawled back he pulled your skirt down quickly.

When he opened the door Gojo looked at the both of you for a minute before telling Yuuta to step out.

"The race will start in 30 minutes so they want all of us to get in position." Gojo said as he pushed his sunglasses up. Though Yuuta found it odd because it was literally dark outside.

"Don’t tell me your going to drive with thoes on." Yuuta laughed but the other one didn’t.

"What happened to respecting me so much that you wouldn’t lay a finger on my niece." Gojo pointed at Yuutas chest aggressively.

"What are you talking about?" Yuuta tilted his head.

"Fuck, you think I’m stupid don’t you? Messy hair, wrinkled hoodie, you reek of sex and lastly look what’s peeking out of your pocket." Gojo said angrily.

Yuuta looked down slowly to see your pink panties stuffed effortlessly into his pocket. He looked up at Gojo slowly trying to think of the best excuse.

"Im just holding them for her."

Gojo pinched the bridge if his nose. He had no idea what to do with the both of you.

"Im literally about to give you a matching mark on the other cheek." Gojo said as he shook his head.

"Should I call you uncle in law from now on?" Yuuta asked with a sheepish smile.

"Don’t get too cocky. I’m not allowing this at all." Gojo snarled

"Hey how about we bet? If you Win I’ll leave y/n alone. If you loose then I guess you’ll be seeing me around more often." Yuuta smiled.

Gojo was thrilled with this bet. His pupil really thought he can beat him? The best drag racer in Japan? He had no idea what he had coming. Poor y/n was going to be so upset when she finds out that Yuuta lost.

Gojo brought his hand out and Yuuta shook it to seal the deal.

The cars lined up on the empty street. It was four cars in total due to it only having four lanes. Usually it would be two cars at a time but it was hard to get to all of the racers. Especially in a place know too well for street racing.

The second a cops sees a crowed or here’s loud engines they are on the way to disperse it. All the cars lined up next to each other. Racer number one seemed to be some new person, number two was Itadori, three was Gojo and Yuta was the fourth one.

Your boyfriend told you that you needed to stand with the crowed because he would hate for you to get into an accident. He said he would never forgive himself if something happened to you. So you stood with all the people, next to Maki and Shoko. Shoko was here as first aid, she wasn’t going to fix a broken bone but she was here for life saving measures like cpr, bandaging, cleaning wounds.

You rock your feet back and foward excited for the race to start. You could hear as they flexed the loudness of their cars. Out of the three boy’s you knew, you know they loved competing to see who had the best sounding exhaust and engines. Though you couldn’t lie the first car sounded like a monster compared to the rest.

Two girls walked in between the cars and did a small dance to hype of the crowed. Both of them in synchrony pointed one flag to the right and the other to the left making sure the racers were ready. Then they lifted the flags high up in the air for a bit to build up suspense and finally they went down. All four of the cars accelerated quickly and went off, leaving smoke behind them and a loud screeching sound.

The roads to racing on the streets were sort of short, it’s nothing about skill but how your car is built. People would go crazy lengths to make sure there car was fast. The amount of money that goes into these bets were also crazy. You could rank up so much money from winning a few races.

The first and last two cars where neck and neck. Going very fast down the road to the point of almost loosing sight of them. Luckily there’s a person at the end that would see who came first. You fidget, nervous to know the results of this race. That was until you saw racer number one swerve all the way to Yuutas lane. You could hear the loud break sounds of all of the cars. Number twos car somehow flipped over, and Gojos spun out of control. Your heart snuck to the ground as you witness the accident. You could see Yuutas white car in the field to the right.

You start running to the scene with Shoko next to you. How could this have happened? The closer you got the stronger the smell of burned tired lingered in the air. You could see Gojos car wasn’t totaled and Yuutas car was on the grass.

"Go check on Yuuta, I’ll get Yuji, and Maki will see Gojo ." Shoko said as she jogged towards your the flipped car.

You made it to Yuutas car and open his door to find him sitting there breathing heavily. Thank god he looked fine, just a bit spooked though. "Yuuta, what happened?!" You say trying to unbuckle his seat belt for him. He slowly got out of his seat and sat on the grass.

"I can’t believe I actually managed to escape that crazy bastard." Yuuta said as he turned to look at the finish line where racer number one was at.

It took you a second to figure out what happened. It wasn’t a freak accident, it was done on purpose. That person did it so he could be the one to win. Yuji car must of flipped from how hard he braked. Gojo was stuck in between Two cars and had no way of dodging but tried to anyways. While Yuuta had enough time to react and got out the way even if that meant getting off the road.

"Oh Yuuta I’m so glad you’re okay but you need to come and help to get the others." You say pointing to the cars in the back. Yuuta gave you a firm nod and followed you.

At the end everyone was fine and were able to walk off the scene. These boys were obviously not in the condition to be driving right now. You could see they were still jumpy so you offered to drive them home in Yuutas car. Gojo told Itadori that he will have both the cars towed to his place. He agreed and you all drove in silence. You could feel some sort of tension but maybe you were imagining it. You stopped for some pizza and took it back to your place so everyone could eat.

"I can’t believe they let him race! I thought we all agreed on banning him because of last time!" Gojo said angrily as he took a bite out of the pizza.

"What happed last time?" You ask.

"The same thing but the person he was racing against ended up in the hospital." Yuji said.

You cringe just imagining the injury’s he must of gotten.

"They should start making it where the opponents have to agree to race each other. If I knew he was going to be there I wouldn’t have raced." Yuuta said leaning back on his chair with his arm around the back of yours.

Gojo agreed as much as he didn’t want to. It was better to be safe than having hospital debt.

You retreated to bed early and got ready to sleep for the night while Yuuta stayed behind.

"Technically I won since the deal was that if you lost you had no say in our relationship. If I remember correctly Sukuna won tonight." Yuuta said with a smile.

"I’m going to tell Suguru and he’s not going to be very happy about it." Gojo said as he started cleaning the table.

Itadori just sat there amazed to see far distant cousins bickering. He’s always seen Yuuta as a calm cool person but clearly they were taking digs at eachother.

"He’s going to get mad at you more for letting y/n go to a car meet, and for leaving her alone with me." Yuuta said as he started walking away. "Goodnight uncle in law." He said as he reached your door and entered.

When he did he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Finally he was going to get some rest after a long night. What was even better was that he was going to be sleeping with you. He could just imagine the cuddles right now.

"Y/n I still have your panties in my pocket, care to claim them or are they my souvenir?" Yuuta said as he finally opened his eyes to find you shaking your head with a panicked look. He looked at you confused until he looked to see someone standing next to your vanity.

"What the hell did you just say?" Geto crossed his arms.

" Shit. "

Tags: @sukunaswifee @leilaniers @leehansfishmommy @ellicxp @officialholyagua

[cameronspecial]

OMGGG, I woke up today and thought of smth. It's gonna take forever to make if you do make this, but..

Drew starkey and Y/N, they meet at a fancy restaurant like this GIF

And Y/N thinks he's cute and she's like there waiter or smth and Drew is out for dinner w the cast to celebrate season 4 starting and she's just like really smiley or smth, anywaysss. They get eachothers numbers and talk a bit later that night and she finds out he's a Actor and he played in OBX and what not so she starts watching it and they eventually get tg after more talking. IDK, I WANT IT TO BE LONG LOWKEY, OR CHAPTERS OF THEM MEETING AND TALKING, HE FINDS OUT SOME HOW THAT SHE STARTED WATCHING OBX OR A MOVIE HE PLAYED IN AND SHES ALL BLUSHING AND EMBARRASSED, IDK ITS SM TO ASK- PLSSSS PLSSSS PLSSSSSSSSS PLEASEEEEE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

-Autumn

That's Him?!

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Y/N has been texting Drew all day. She shouldn’t have slipped him her number last night, but he was too good of the match not to take the chance to get to know him better. The table he had sat at was big, filled with, who she assumed were, his co-workers. They were all polite and respectful, helping make her job easy by being patient and stacking their plates when they were done, yet he stood out to her even in the sea of faces. He was attractive, no doubt, and always caught her attention with the most charming smile. He would joke and try to make polite conversation as she served his table. So once the time for them to close their cheque came, she took the opportunity to write her number down on his receipt. It turns out, the feeling is mutual. 

I swear I didn’t know that Nair was a hair removal product. Logan didn’t believe me though. She giggles at his recounting of when he accidentally caused his brother to go bald, not noticing her sister’s arrival in the living room. 

The shift in the couch beside her causes Y/N to turn her sister. “Are you still texting that guy from last night?” Via inquires. Y/N bites her bottom lip to hide her smile, “Yeah. He’s really sweet.” “Well, hopefully, this turns into something more because you need to get laid. Anyways, I’m going to watch my show down here.” The older sister doesn’t say anything as her sibling picks up the remote and switches it to Netflix. 

Y/N continues her conversation with Drew, letting the show on the TV drown out in the background until a familiar voice sounds throughout the room. Her eyes flick up to the large screen and back down to her phone. She recognizes the buzz head and can’t believe his presence. She also doesn’t know why she never thought about asking him where he works. “That’s him?!” she yells, pointing at the screen. Via looks at her sister like she has grown two heads, “What are you talking about?”

“That’s Drew. That’s who I met yesterday and have been talking to.”

“Hold on, you are telling me that the Drew you have been talking to is Drew Starkey.”

“I guess.”

Via pauses the show and pulls out her phone. Her sister waits patiently as her sister types something in. The phone is turned in her direction and she looks at the various pictures of her new friend on the screen. “Yeah, that’s definitely him.”

———

After a few weeks of texting, Y/N and Drew finally set a date on their calendar. His hand rests on her lower back, leading her while the hostess shows them to their table. She sits across from him with a massive grin. His hand rests in the middle of the table and she reaches out to place her hand on his, almost knocking down her empty wine glass if it isn’t for his quick reflex. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I guess I’m still feeling a little Kooky.” Her eyes glance towards his face to see if he reacts to her teasing. His face remains stoic as he tries to figure out if she used the word for the reason he thinks she did. She recognizes his attempt and pushes it even more by going over the menu. 

“I wonder if they have any fish. I’m in the mood for menhaden or as it is otherwise known as pogue.” 

Certain that the jig is now up, he sets his menu down to give her his full attention. “So you know?” he confirms. She nods, “Yes, I found out a few weeks ago when my sister was watching the show in the living room. How come you didn’t tell me?” He sighs, playing with the hoop in his ear. “I didn’t want you to treat me differently. Or for you to be scared of entering a relationship with me because I travel a lot for work and sometimes get followed by a crowd of fans.”

 She gives his hand a soft squeeze. “I understand why you would fear those things, but I promise you don’t have anything to worry about. You are still plain old Drew to me and I have a thick skin from being a waitress, I think I can handle a few teenage girls.” 

He gives her a thankful smile and holds his hand up to her, “Why don’t we start over? I’m Drew Starkey. I act for a living and I think you are the most beautiful girl I have seen. I would love it if you would go on a date with me. She giggles and takes his hand. “Nice to meet you, Drew. I’m Y/N. I wait tables and I would love to go on a date with you.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[doumadono]

Upper Moons 1-3 & submissive s/o - NSFW headcanons

Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

Akaza

Witnessing his significant other in lingerie would swiftly provoke Akaza's transformation into a more dominant figure within the confines of the bedroom. The mere sight would ignite an intense flame within him, prompting Akaza to initiate with gradual and tender actions, consisting of gentle caresses and delicate kisses

Initially, he experienced significant unease, concerned that he might be pressuring his significant other into a submissive role and worried that there were certain actions he shouldn't take. However, after you clarified your desires and expressed how genuinely thrilled it made you, his apprehension transformed into excitement

Akaza would have a daddy kink for sure. Call him daddy once and it would instantly transform sex from vanilla to dominant. His fingers lightly caressing your backside before he spanks your ass harshly. “Are you going to be a good girl for daddy?”

Demanding you get onto your knees to suck his dick, he's gently intertwining his fingers in your hair, he delicately adjusts the angle of your head as he face-fucks you; the sound of you gagging around his dick would really spur him on

Akaza would definitely catch you off guard by grabbing your wrists in his hands and holding them above your head/behind your body. Tying you up would be one of his biggest kinks

The noises his s/o makes would really excite him as he teases your body. Akaza's primary motivation for enjoying a dominant position lies in the significant ego boost he experiences while observing you struggle beneath him

If Akaza was being excessively rough with his s/o, he would still take measures to ensure their well-being. He would occasionally squeeze your hips in a reassuring manner, checking for any signs of pain or concern through eye contact

Kokushibo

Kokushibo's vulgar discourse would undoubtedly be characterized by its ruthlessly crude nature. “Is that all you can handle, Y/N? I think you can take more than that.” or “Look at your wet pussy, is that for me?”

In an intimate moment with Kokushibo, he prefers to maintain eye contact. If you were to avert your gaze or close your eyes, he might respond by pausing or adjusting the pace, emphasizing the importance of maintaining that connection. “Look at me, babygirl.” This reason is why he wouldn’t be into blindfolds. Observing your eyes as you reach climax is undeniably alluring

Kokushibo's inclinations would lean towards the practice of edging, finding pleasure in the tantalizing art of delaying gratification. This demon, known for his unwavering pursuit of power and pleasure, would likely derive immense satisfaction from testing the limits of his s/o. “Not yet, princess. Do you think you deserve to come? Beg for it.”

Kokushibo would catch you by surprise when he thrusts back into you, starting a harsh pace as he rubs quick circles around your clit to try and get you to climax faster. “Come for me, Y/N.” The sound of his deep voice adding to the sensation as your climax washes over you

Kokushibo, being dominant, prioritizes ensuring his partner's pleasure by focusing on multiple orgasms. He doesn't give you a chance to settle down after your first climax, relentlessly pursuing a second one for you

His favourite place to come is inside you. He would bite down on your neck as he fucks you, his orgasm approaching

Douma

Challenging or responding with sass to Douma would often lead to him asserting his dominance swiftly. It wouldn't take long for him to take control, leaving little room for defiance

Douma possesses captivating and intense eyes, and engaging in eye contact with his s/o is one of the most exhilarating aspects of his dominance in the bedroom. It's a powerful and swift method for arousing his partner, and he's well aware of its effectiveness. Moreover, the act of maintaining eye contact significantly arouses Douma himself, adding to the mutual excitement between them

He takes immense pleasure in undressing his s/o, relishing the captivating view of you standing bare before him while he remains mostly clothed. Douma's hands glide across your entire form, delicately tracing each curve

One of his favourite things to do would be to tie his s/o up and/or blindfold you. When you're blindfolded, your other senses become more acute and sensitive and Douma loves running his hands along your body while you’re blindfolded, randomly licking or sucking exposed parts of your skin

Douma finds great delight in teasing his s/o on numerous occasions. He takes pleasure in playfully taunting you, often with a mischievous smirk adorning his face. Douma's teasing nature is fueled by a combination of genuine affection and a desire to provoke entertaining reactions from his partner. His remarks can range from playful banter to more provocative teasing, carefully testing your limits and pushing your buttons in a calculated manner

Expect edging or orgasm denial - partly because he enjoys watching his s/o squirm in ecstasy beneath him, relishing the pleasure they experience. Consequently, he's determined to prolong the intimate moments and not let them come to an end too quickly

Giving his s/o oral is one of Douma's favourite things to do. The way you moan and buck your hips underneath him as he licks your slit, sucking your clit into his mouth - it's driving him nuts

He’ll definitely make you beg before penetrating you, adding to his love for being the dominant one. “Tell me what you want, princess. Use your words."

When Douma is fucking his s/o, he’ll maintain eye contact but will also over-stimulate you by rubbing your clit. "That's my little lotus, I know you can take it, just relax."

Douma appreciates moments of physical closeness and intimacy, but he may not seek out cuddling immediately after sex. While he may not engage in traditional cuddling, he expresses his affection and care for his partner through other means - this could include gentle touches and whispers of affection

[aflame4goinghome]

Just A Kiss

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x bisexual!reader, Jake Kiszka x female OC, reader x female OC

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!! swearing, flirting, unfaithfulness (kinda), possessiveness, jealousy, some arguing, mentions of drinking, LGBTQ topics SMUT: kissing, touching, dirty talk, sexually implicit language, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sex, biting, slight dom/sub dynamic, dominance switching, threesome, slight breeding kink, hint of a praise kink

A/N: Well… I guess you can say that I was inspired by certain recent events. This is all a work of fiction, of course! I took inspiration and ran with it from there… The title is inspired by A Kiss by The Driver Era :) This fic is in collaboration with my good friend @dancingcarbon! We hope you enjoy it ;) *it’s only lightly edited ok so sorry for any typos*

————————————————————————

“Ten minutes ‘til we hit the stage– places in five!” you hear echo through the hallway beyond the dressing room door. You’re lounging comfortably on the sofa, legs hanging off the armrest as you scroll through your social media and wait for the show to start. When you hear the call for places, you flip your phone over and place it on your lap to look over at Jake, who’s finishing getting ready in the mirror across the room from you. You watch as he takes one last look in the mirror, then turns and strides toward you with a smug smile. 

“How do I look?” he asks, smirking as he places his hands on either side of the couch and hovers over you, bending slightly to allow his face to be level with yours. You smile wide as you look up at him, brushing your hands softly on the expensive, beautiful material of his jacket. Your eyes meet his, tightly lined with eyeliner and half-lidded from the two glasses of whiskey he already had.

“You look sexy as always, my love…” you answer, leaning your lips upward to catch his, kissing him quickly before the two of you get up and walk toward the door. His arm snakes around your waist as he opens the door for you, smacking your ass playfully as you walk out the door in front of him. Entering the hallway, you see the other guys not too far ahead of you, heading toward the stage. You intended to watch the show from the wings tonight rather than sitting in seats, since you were here alone and figured you’d get the best view there.

This wasn’t your first rodeo. You and Jake have been dating since all the way back when they used to play in bars, and you’ve been by him every step of the way. You’ve been his biggest fan and supporter, coming to as many shows of each tour as the paid time off at your job would allow. Luckily for you, dating the lead guitarist of a famous rock band was a pretty good excuse to miss work. 

Your job gives you a lot of leeway in terms of submitting assignments, since it’s more on the freelancer side of things, so you always have plenty of opportunities to join him and the band on tour. You’ve already been to plenty of shows on this leg of the tour, but Jake insisted on you coming along to all of them once again.

“Cone on, you’re my lucky charm, baby,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he pulled you into him. It was the day before they were meant to leave for the next branch of the tour, and he was desperately trying to get you to come along.

“Jake, I can’t this time. I have a huge project due next week, I can’t just go halfway across the country with you,” you said, groaning frustratedly as you tried to escape his hold on you, but failing miserably. His right hand came up to brush your hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek softly as he pled with you.

“You can do it remotely, I’m sure they’ll understand,” he said, using his pointer finger to lift your chin and look you in the eye. “I need you there.” As his eyes bore into yours intensely, you caved in. 

“Fine…” you groaned as he captured you in a kiss, smiling against your lips. 

“You won’t regret this,” he said.

As you approach the wings of the stage, Jake turns around one more time before walking up to the catwalk, cupping your cheeks to kiss your lips softly.

“This is all for you, my love,” he whispers against your lips. You smirk as your arms wrap around his waist, your hands squeezing his hips tightly. 

“Considering how hot and bothered you get on that stage sometimes, I would hope it’s all for me…” you whisper against his ear. Your fingers ghost over the bare skin of his abdomen and a shiver runs through him as you feel his cock grow hard against you through his pants. 

“Careful, sweetheart… How am I supposed to play a show when you start saying things like that,” he says, kissing down your jaw.

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait,” you say with a smug smile as a stage manager calls him over to him. He shoots you a quick wink, then walks over to the stage and slides his guitar on over his head. You watch as the overture starts to approach the end and he walks up the stairs to wait along the back catwalk for the curtain to drop. 

You decide to move closer to the front of the wings, standing far enough back to not be seen by the crowd, but close enough to be able to see both the band and the fans in the pit below. You see all of their excited faces as they scream for the guys, the anticipation building slowly. 

The curtain finally falls and the crowd loses their minds watching them open the show. You look out into the pit to watch their reactions one by one– people-watching is one of your favorite pastimes, especially when it comes to the fans and seeing their excitement. It’s something that always thrilled you from the start. 

As your eyes pan to each fan on the barricade, they’re immediately halted on one individual in the center. God, she was beautiful. All of Greta Van Fleet’s fans are beautiful– it’s just a consistent factor when they make sure beautiful music— but this girl genuinely stopped you in your tracks. 

Her long dirty blonde hair sat on her shoulder in a loose wave, with a few pieces pinned back in the front with barretts shaped like stars. Her makeup was gorgeous, with several small rhinestones sitting delicately underneath her eyes, lighting up her face even more. Her top was tight and had a deep neckline, which made it impossible for you to look away. 

You’ve always known you were bisexual from a young age, this isn’t new. You’ve been with plenty of girls before, even before Jake came along. It’s something you were completely open about with Jake and it added for some spicy dynamics, whether it be talking about a girl you both found attractive, hitting on girls in front of him, or sometimes even engaging in a harmless make-out at a bar while locking eyes with him over her shoulder. Taking it a step further and bringing someone into the bedroom had been something both of you were interested in– you’ve discussed different boundaries and comfort levels but when it came to the reality of organizing one, you both agreed that it occurring organically felt better. 

As your eyes continue to explore her, they land on her hands that sit atop the barricade and you notice the small sign that she’s holding. You can’t make out exactly what it says from this far away, but you’re certain that it has Jake’s name on it.

Of course– all of the sexiest girls are Jake fans. How could you blame them? He’s ungodly talented, sexy, confident, and more. At times it’s been hard to keep the slight twinge of jealousy at bay. As Jake struts down the upper catwalk toward the front of the stage, her eyes are glued to him. You can’t help but wish that she’d look at you that way, with lust, admiration, and desire. 

As you continue to steal glances throughout the set, you notice that she’s starting to return your eye contact. To your surprise, this time she looked past Jake and directly at you, breaking eye contact to look down blushing to herself, before pushing her hair behind her ear, meeting your eyes once again with her bottom lip between her teeth. It felt good to get a little bit of what Jake gets each night, a harmless flirtatious from afar. Or from afar you thought.

As the show went on, you tried your best to keep your mind off of her. You chose to watch Jake instead, which certainly did the trick. Watching as he rutted his hips against his guitar always made your legs clench shut with want for him, and he knew it too. You knew he did it more often when he knew you were watching, making it feel like a dirty little secret between you two. 

When Jake began thrusting against his guitar and throwing his head back as he began his solo for The Archer, instead of staying on him, your eyes shot to the girl in the crowd. You stifle a quiet moan from leaving your mouth as you see the expression on her face as she watches your boyfriend play. It’s lustful and full of need, sending shockwaves right to your core.

You look back at Jake and see his eyes are on you, which makes your desire so much deeper.  You can’t decipher the look on his face, but it’s passionate and so hot. Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, he starts to approach the steps toward the floor. What the fuck is he doing?

You watch as he makes his way to the pit, his solo still raging on. He approaches the barricade, playing out a long, whiny note as his eyes find a girl in the crowd– your girl. You finally have a good view of the sign she’s holding: “I’m a Jake Girl”.

You almost can’t believe your eyes as Jake looks down at the sign with a smirk then looks back up at the girl, leaning up and kissing her on the cheek. Her face lights up, her cheeks turning pink as he smiles at her. As Jake returns to strutting down the barricade, you catch her glimpsing back up at you with a look that only spurred your lust. Not in a combative challenge, but as almost a nod to what you’ve managed to lock down. There was something about it that only spurred your nefarious thoughts. 

You just stand there in the wings slackjacked as he walks toward his usual spot on the stage, finishing up his solo and waiting for Josh to come back out on stage. What the hell just happened? And why did you feel more turned on than jealous? 

You manage to channel the multitude of emotions from Jake’s little stunt and enjoy the rest of the show. Jake avoided your attention entirely, exiting on the other side of the stage before the encore. Soon enough, the encore ends and the band says their goodbyes, exiting the stage. He finally walks off to the side of the stage, handing off his guitar to a tech while looking for you but you are nowhere to be found. You had told his tech to tell him you’d see him in his dressing room. 

Over the years, you both have your moments of being the one in control during sex, but more often than not, he ends up being the dominant one. If this was any other night, you would know that you would pay for your attitude later tonight. This time, however, you have much different plans. 

After a short detour, you stroll into his dressing room to find Jake unwinding, taking off his jacket and kicking off his boots. “There you are, where were you?” he asks, somewhat annoyed.

“Nowhere important, don’t worry about it” you respond nonchalantly as you proceed further into the room. 

“Enjoy the show?” he cheekily asks. 

“Not as much as you apparently” you return his tone with a look over your shoulder. A smug grin crosses his face as he runs his fingers over his mustache. You continue to the vanity, picking up a towel sitting there and throwing it towards him. He chooses to ignore your passive-aggressive comment for now and proceeds with his post-show routine, removing his stage makeup.

“The crowd went crazy tonight during my solo during Lover, Leaver,” he says proudly as he wipes the towel across his face. A sly smile crosses your face, still turned away, as the game and your strategy perfectly revealed itself, this was going to be fun, two can play this game but you’d be the winner. 

“Oh, did they? I’m sorry babe, I must have missed that,” you answer coldly, focusing on your phone with your back still to him. In the mirror, you saw him stop and lower the towel from his face to reveal a confused look. You have him exactly where you want him. You look up from your phone and catch his eyes in the reflection, his puzzled look begging you to elaborate. 

“I’m sure it was great, love,” you continue while finishing up on your phone, “I just wasn’t really paying attention to you.” You slip your phone into your pocket and turn around, leaning against the vanity with your hands placed on it behind you. 

“My eyes were drawn elsewhere tonight… distracted, if you will, by someone else,” you continue, looking across at him to gauge his reaction. His confused look quickly turned into a sour one. You could see his mind churning, searching for what you meant or who you meant, recounting instances of his brothers’ antics to determine what could have pulled your eyes. You pressed off the vanity, slowly walking over towards him.

“Am I confusing you? I thought I might,” you say smugly. His brows furrow as you continue. “Sorry about that. I’m just still feeling a bit hot and bothered thinking about this girl who caught my eye during your show… God, she was just stunning…”

You saw it in his eyes that he’s connected the dots before they slightly roll back and he quickly bit his lip to contain himself. The game was afoot. You place your hands on his shoulders, continuing to back him up onto the couch. With him seated, you climb on top of him, leaning down to his ear.

“Seems like you thought so too,” you whisper as you place a light peck below his ear. You feel his vocal cords vibrate against your lips on his neck as he finally mutters out an answer.

“Did I turn you on baby?” he asks, his arms wrapping around your waist. How arrogant. You pulled your lips off his neck just enough to respond to his inquiry. 

“She did,” you breathe out, hot against his ear, hearing a soft whimper tumble from his lips as you move to his other ear. “All you did was make me competitive, so now I unfortunately have to get a taste for myself.” You feel his dick harden in his pants below you as his hands tighten around your hips.

“Fuck,” he shuttered out, looking at you with darkened eyes. 

“If you want to have your cake and eat it too, then so can I,” you say smartly, looking down at him, half-lidded with desire. His hands on your hips pushed you down into his lap, grinding his throbbing, hard cock against your clothed core.

“Y/N, don’t start something you can’t finish,” he spoke out in an attempt to gain back some control. 

“You’re more than welcome to call my bluff,” you chuckled before your phone pinged with a notification. You pulled back from Jake and retrieved your phone from your back pocket, still straddling him as you read the notification. 

“Ah, have to go,” you spoke as you stood up off of him with no further explanation.

 “Where could you possibly be going?” he smugly spit out as he sat there confidently thinking that he was about to win this round of your little game, getting you as the reward. God, this was going to be good. 

“To have my cake and eat her too,” you answer convincingly, holding up your phone to show a selfie of the girl from the show, sitting at the bar of your hotel. At that, you grab your bag and head for the door. 

—

Jake had no less sprinted out after you the second you left his dressing room, clad only in his black pants. As he attempted to adjust himself to conceal his obvious erection, you dropped the game momentarily to discuss the prospect of a threesome finally becoming a reality. 

You told Jake about how you grabbed a copy of the setlist, scribbled a message asking her to meet you both for a drink, and convinced a security guard to run it out to her. You had lingered for a moment to ensure she got it and immediately felt your phone buzz with a message. 

“What did she say?” Jake quickly asked, pulling you back into the present moment and turning his head around to ensure no one was privy to the conversation. 

“That she would love to buy me a drink,” you smirked out. His face sank a bit as you teased him, “Oh, and she said you were welcome too, of course.” The reality of the situation seemed to hit Jake as he once again nervously ran his hand over this mustache. 

“Now hurry up, rinse off, and get changed, the Uber is 11 minutes away and I think we’d both prefer that you buy us those drinks,” you say casually, walking toward the exit. When he didn’t move, you started to wonder if you had pushed him too far. But the second you turn back around and open your mouth to speak, Jake’s lips crash against yours as he grips your face between his hands.

 “I want this, don’t worry, I do. But fuck Y/N, seeing you like this and how much you want it… this side of you is so hot, I almost came in my pants just from you talking like that in my dressing room,” he admits, looking down at you with a smile. You laugh and felt the game pick up again as you swatted his ass.

“It’s just a drink, let’s just feel it out, okay?” you say, backing out of his grip to turn back toward the door. “Now, get a move on!”

The ride back to the hotel had been unremarkable, given the back of an Uber didn’t seem the best place to speak freely about a threesome. But words weren’t needed right now. You exchanged some knowing glances and squeezes and those non-verbal interactions did all the talking. You felt incredibly lucky to be with a man who let an essential part of you, your sexuality, exist freely. 

He’d done that the entire time you’ve been together of course, but he never once fetishized your sexuality and that’s why it was important to you that you were the one to orchestrate this adventure. You were at a point in your relationship that never existed in priors where you felt nothing but excitement to share this with him. As you returned to the hotel, hand in hand, you exchanged one last look before entering the bar. 

“We can stop at any time, okay? Whether that’s after a drink, a kiss, or whenever. There are zero expectations,” you assure him quietly. He quickly kisses your cheek and whispers, “I love you.” 

You smile and squeeze his hand, “Shall we?” you ask. “After you, my love.”

As you turn to the darkly lit bar, you spot her tucked away in a back corner booth, the sultriness of the ambiance only spurring you on more. She notices you enter, her face lighting up as she waves to acknowledge you. You wave back with one hand, Jake’s in your other as you weave through the room toward the booth. 

“I hope you don’t mind I started without you,” she says, nodding toward her nearly empty drink. 

“Not at all,” you quickly smiled back, sliding into the booth next to her. “I know Jake would personally love to get you another, if you’d like,” you continue, breaking your eye contact with her to look at Jake as her own eyes follow. 

“Would be my pleasure,” Jake replies with a shy smile. God, he looked even sexier under the dim candlelight. Her eyes darted back to you, almost nervously. 

“I’m a tequila girl so I’m getting a tequila soda, what are you drinking?” you ask reassuringly. “I’d love a rum and coke,” she replies.

“Coming right up,” Jake says with a smile before retreating to the bar as you turn back to her.

“Hi,” you say cheerfully. “I guess we haven’t actually introduced ourselves… I’m Y/N.” 

“I’m Sadie,” she says with a smile. Almost out of instinct, you held out your hand to shake hers.

“It’s nice to–” Before you can finish, she ignores both your hand and response, leaning in to plant a light kiss on your cheek… and just like that, the fire inside you is reignited. At the same moment, Jake returned with your drinks.

“Ah, getting acquainted I see,” he says as he sets the drinks down before sliding in next to you. 

“Just playing catch up,” you return with a wink, getting a chuckle out of them both. “Jake, this is Sadie,” you introduce. “Nice to meet you, Sadie,” Jake says with a smile.

All three of you chuckle, given the circumstances, then you continue to strike up the conversation to get to know each other better. The conversation flows comparable to the drinks in front of you, as if you were old friends but with so much to explore with each other. Jake eventually retreated for another round of drinks for the table. As Sadie puts down her empty glass, she leans onto the table toward you.

“I just have to say, you have the most stunning eyes,” she whispers, her eyes glossy as she looks at you with desire. She was close enough for you to smell the rum on her breath, turning you on even more. 

“I could say the same about you,” you retort with your glass in hand, chewing on the straw. Sadie leans in and pushes a fallen piece of hair back behind your ear then replaces her hand with her lips, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your earlobe. A shiver shoots down your spine and you know that the spark has definitely been lit.

Jake returns silently, admiring the moment as he quietly slides himself back into the booth. You look back at him with a look of lust and admiration and he returns your prideful look with a slight nod as you turn back to face Sadie. 

“Hey, if it’s something you might be interested in…” you began to blurt out, without any idea of what you were going to say next. Jake almost sensing it, jumping in to finish the question for you, taking the weight off of your shoulders.

“I sent our drinks up to our room, if you would like to join us upstairs for a nightcap,” he says, a hint of seductiveness coating his voice. “Or, we are also more than happy to just have one more down here and call it a night. It’s entirely your choice, of course.”

You looked back at Jake, he somehow managed to perfectly capture your thoughts and sentiments in the gentle manner you were seeking. Oh, how you loved this man. You both watch a slight blush populate Sadie’s face as she looks up at you.

“I am definitely interested in the nightcap option,” she says with a shy smile, placing her hand on your thigh with ardor in her eyes. 

The late hour had afforded a quiet hallway to which you did your best to stifle your conversation and laughter, arriving at your hotel room door. Jake quickly flashes the keycard and holds the door for you both to enter. Your nightcap round has already arrived and was sitting on the coffee table where you all gathered around. Jake had opted for tequila on the rocks and given the time that had span, the rocks were no more. 

“I am going to grab some ice, hang tight,” he announced before grabbing the ice bucket and exiting the room. You turned back to Sadie, whose eyes were already locked on you. 

“I hope you know how badly I want you,” Sadie said, closing the space between you two on the couch. You felt your body start to warm from her proximity, growing wetter by the minute from her tits on full display as she leans forward toward you. 

“I think I have an idea,” you respond playfully, reaching for the back of her neck. You pull her into you, your lips finally meeting after you’d been craving it all night. In one fluid motion, you lean her back against the couch and straddle her– the second time you’ve been in this position tonight. You return your lips to her mouth and continue, hearing the keycard unlock the door. You smirk to yourself, feeling ready for the games to begin. After a moment, you manage to pull your lips away and look over to see Jake standing at the end of the couch, his cock hardening at the sight.

“I’m sorry baby,” you say in your best sultry voice. “I couldn’t wait to get a taste of her, since you’ve already gotten one tonight.” You grab Sadie’s chin, turning her face towards Jake, and lick a long strip up her exposed neck, from her collarbone to ear, before taking her earlobe into your mouth, finishing with it between your teeth, locking eyes again with Jake in the process. “She tastes so sweet.”

Sadie whimpers softly as you feel her clench her thighs below you. You watch a soft yet pronounced “Fuck” fall from Jake's lips as he began to palm himself over his pants. The feeling of getting both Sadie and Jake off with your action alone has your head spinning and your heat dripping. You pull off of Sadie’s ear with a pop, leaning back up. 

“Join us, baby,” you say in Jake’s direction. Jake hurriedly slams the ice bucket down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to Sadie. 

“Can I take this off?” Sadie inquires with her hands on the bottom of your shirt as she sits up slightly. 

“By all means,” you shoot back playfully. With your shirt off, you reposition yourself with one knee in between Sadie’s legs and one in between Jake’s, straddling their two thighs. You lean into Jake, meeting his mouth and licking into it while Sadie works to open the couple of buttons left on Jake’s shirt. 

Your hand meets Jake’s on your cheek and you take his in yours, guiding it to curl around Sadie’s shoulder. They both blush shyly at first before you place a hand on the back of Sadie’s neck. Slowly, you lean back and guide their mouths together, nodding for them to kiss. Once their lips meet, you move towards Jake’s now exposed neck, planting sloppy, open-mouth kisses all over. You feel him moan into Sadie’s mouth and your core begins to drip, picturing how his brows were probably furrowing. 

You take the opportunity with them both engaged to remove your bra as you sit on top of them. As if sensing it, they both come up for air and appraise your bare chest, sending an intoxicating high throughout your body. To your surprise, Sadie leans in first, going straight for your tit and taking it into your mouth. Fuck, her mouth feels good. As she swirls her tongue around your hardened nipple, Jake places sloppy kisses down your neck until he reaches your other nipple, mimicking Sadie and taking it into his mouth. The gasp that escapes your mouth startles even yourself, and their collective moans against your skin suggest that they were satisfied with your reaction.

“Holy fuck,” you shutter out as you mindlessly, in search of relief, grind against where their two thighs met below you. You can feel Sadie growing wet against your knee and your wandering hand finds Jake’s dick, hard and throbbing against his pants. He moans again slightly as you palm his length, releasing your nipple from his mouth as his hand comes up to your cheek. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re a goddess,” he whispers, loud enough for Sadie to hear, moaning against your nipple in agreement. You bite your lip and whimper slightly before breaking free of Jake’s grip and lifting Sadie’s head off your chest to connect with her mouth briefly. 

“Jakey, those pants look so tight and constricting, why don’t you get more comfortable?” you say before taking Sadie back in your mouth. As Jake stands up to shed layers, you slowly undress Sadie to match your current topless state and return the favor to her chest. 

“Oh god, Y/N, your mouth feels so good,” she sighs out. You looked up at her, taking in her blissed-out state and you can’t help but grind down on her. You both let out a breathy moan at the sensation and you hear Jake groan quietly behind you as he continues to palm himself over his briefs, watching you ride her. 

You sit back up, one arm resting on the back of the couch while the other sits on Sadie’s knee as you continue to grind against her slowly, relieving you both. Her hands meet your hips and guide you, the friction being exactly what she needs. You catch Jake’s eyes, seemingly thankful to even be witnessing such erotica. You call him over and tilt your head all the way back to look directly up while he stands over you and leans down to meet your lips. Pulling away, you lock eyes with Sadie, exchanging a shared look. 

“I think it’s time we give our Jakey boy here some attention, what do you think Sadie?” you schemed with a smirk. 

“Only if you think he deserves it,” Sadie replies, running her hands over your body and taking your tit into her mouth once more. Her jumping in playfully only spurs your arousal and you watch Jake’s eyes practically roll to the back of his head as he stands over you both. You chuckle before standing up off Sadie and walking behind Jake, resting your hands on his shoulders softly. 

“Do you want that Jake?” you tease, your breath ghosting against the shell of his ear. “Your cock must be practically dripping, do want us to give you some relief, baby?” You feel his entire body shutter against you as he licks his lips and nods his head furiously. 

“Fuck, yeah baby…” he answers breathlessly. “Want your mouth on my cock so bad.” His admission only strokes your dominant front even more as you lick up his neck to his ear and reach around to palm him over his briefs. 

“I was actually hoping I could see Sadie’s mouth on your cock…” you whisper against his ear. Unable to contain the guttural moan that escaped his chest, he leans his head back against you, your words and touch hardening his cock even more. “Is that okay, baby?” you ask, egging him on. You feel him nod against you and you look over at Sadie, giving her a wink as she rises off the couch to approach you both, dropping to her knees.

“I am going to slide these off,” you whisper into Jake’s ear, lowering his briefs and freeing his leaking cock, before Sadie pulls them down the rest of the way. 

“Something to get you started,” you say teasingly as you run your hand through your own dripping core before reaching back around and pumping Jake’s throbbing cock with your arousal. Jake gasps at the contact as you both look down to watch your hand pump him, coating him with yourself. Looking down, you see Sadie bite her lip at your action, making you moan into Jake’s ear. You give Jake one last stroke before letting go. 

“May I?” you hear Sadie squeak out innocently. You smile down at her as Jake stays silent, almost as if he’s deferring the decision to you. 

“Jake, be polite and ask her nicely if she will please put your cock in her pretty mouth” you command, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder. You hear his breath catch before he looks down at her and breathily moans out, “Sadie, will you please put my cock in your pretty mouth?” Sadie smiles and nods before opening her mouth. 

“Good boy,” you whisper against his skin as you lick at his ear from behind him, sliding your arms around his waist and placing them on his chest, holding him tight. You were in this together and wanted to be as close to him as possible. As Sadie takes Jake into her mouth, Jake lets out a deep groan and drops one of his arms back to grip your thigh, as if searching for something to sturdy him. 

“You doing okay, baby?” you ask. As Jake starts to answer, your hand shoots up from his chest to his mouth to cover it. “I was asking Sadie,” you continue. “You okay, Sadie baby? You’re treating Jake’s cock so nicely.” Sadie simply hums her affirmative, not even bothering to take Jake’s cock out of her mouth and you feel Jake moan against your hand at the vibration. You withdraw from behind him and press against his side as he quickly pulls you in, squeezing your hips so hard, you’re sure they’d bruise.  

“Sadie looks so sexy with your cock in her pretty mouth, doesn’t she Jakey?” Numb from the pleasure, Jake simply hums out the affirmative, just as Sadie did, only to be met with you twisting his nipple. “Nah-uh, baby, manners,” you scold him. “Say thank you to Sadie for treating your cock so nicely.” Jake winced in pleasure before managing to get out, “Thank you for sucking my cock so nicely Sadie.” 

You turn your attention to look at Sadie now– god, she did look fucking incredible with Jake’s beautiful cock in her mouth. You can’t help but get turned on just by the sight of it. You lower yourself down to kneel beside her as you press kisses up her shoulder, clearing her hair away from her neck. “You are being so good to Jake, let me be good for you,” you whisper as you lick up her neck. 

She sighs so softly as your hand rakes over her chest and slowly finds its way to her heat. You stop at the hem of her thong before continuing further down. 

“Is this alright, baby?” you watch as she pulls off of Jake for air, using it to beg you to continue before taking Jake back in her mouth. You dip your hand into her heat as you smirk up at Jake. You immediately made contact with her swollen, sensitive bud as she yelps out against Jake’s dick from the relief. 

“Fuuuuuck, baby, it feels so fucking good when you make her whine like that around my cock,” Jake groans, throwing his head back. You chuckle as you continue to work Sadie’s clit, running your fingers through her folds.

“God, you are so fucking wet” you mutter as she moans lightly at your touch. You slip your fingers into her, eliciting a strong and loud moan that makes Jake quiver. As you work your fingers into her, rubbing her clit with your thumb, you reached the spot that made her push off Jake, gasping for air. 

“Oh fuck, Y/N, fuck– your fingers feel incredible,” she spits out. 

“Yeah? Right there, baby? God you’ve been so good to Jake, let me thank you properly” you answer, quickening your pace inside her. 

“Holy shit, Y/N,”  you heard Jake mutter while he lazily strokes himself as he watches you make Sadie unravel at your touch.

“Yes, YES! Fuck, oh my god, right there Y/N, please don’t stop,” Sadie screams out so needily that you can feel yourself dripping. “Let go, Sadie, we’ve got you, let me have it.” you chirp, bringing your other hand to work her clit and allow your other to reach up even further to her special spot and pump at a brutal pace. 

“OH, fuck, Y/N, I’m gon- I’m gon-” Sadie yelped. “Cum? Baby, here’s hoping, come on,” you encourage. 

You notice Jake has now lowered himself to your ear whispering “I’m not even touching myself and  fuck– I could fucking cum Y/N, goddamn.” 

You smirk back as you feel her squeeze around your fingers, right on the edge, so you lean in, placing your mouth around her nipple, pushing her into orgasmic ecstasy with your mouth as she screams out and rides your hand through her high, feeling her drip down your hand. After a moment, you slowly withdraw your soaked hand.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, that was amazing,” she says breathlessly as she comes down. “You’re amazing.” 

“She sure fucking is, isn’t she?” Jake chimes in from behind you.

You lean into Sadie and plant a long kiss on her lips. You exchange a smile before starting to rise when she grabs your hand, looking up at you from her knees. 

“Now let me show you how good you made me feel,” she seductively breathes out. You can feel your core dripping as you bite your lip. Nodding, she pulls herself up with your help, backing you both towards the bed. When the backs of her legs reach the bed, she drops to the floor, on her knees and you give her a confused look. 

“I want to taste and please you the same way I did Jake, on my knees for you,” she says, looking up at you through her eyelashes. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as you run your hand through her hair and nod. Fuck, she keeps getting sexier, so eager to please you and Jake. You feel Jake’s breath on your neck as he stands behind you. “Fuck baby,” he mutters “You sure know how to pick ‘em…” he says, smirking into your skin as he presses his lips to your shoulder. 

Without a second thought, Sadie buries her face into you, knocking the air right out of you with the way her tongue pierces your dripping cunt. “Oh fuck, Sadie,” you shutter out and you can feel her hum against your clit. You reach for her head for stability, when Jake chimes in from behind. 

“Hold onto me, baby, I’ve got you,” he whispers, moving both of your arms to hold the back of his neck, essentially hanging onto him. He snakes his hands over your body, finally reaching your chest, as he buries his face into your neck the same way Sadie is currently doing so in your heat. You let out the most stinging moan as Sadie’s fingers slide inside you while Jake plays with your nipples, running his mouth all over your neck. 

“That’s it, baby, just relax and enjoy. Let us worship you,” Jake says against your skin as Sadie concurs with a long hum over your clit, her fingers working you perfectly. Your chest continues to heave as Sadie shakes her head side to side through your heat, Jake peering down to watch, his cock hard against your ass. 

“Mmmm, doesn’t she taste amazing, Sadie? The sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” Jake rasps out. Sadie begins a nodding action, the feeling amazing, as her tongue laps at you in that motion and you can’t help but grind down onto Sadie’s face and she continues to work you with her fingers. 

You are in a state of suspending euphoria you have never experienced before. The way Jake is leading you through it,  pushing you further and further to the edge.

“Do you trust me?” you hear Jake say, ripping you out of your euphoric state. “What?” you ask, quickly turning your head to get a glimpse of him. “Of course,” you answer. Jake meets your lips and continues, “Go with me on this.” You nod, confused but willing. 

He takes his left hand, wraps it around your front, pulling you back harshly, pressing you completely up against him, his cock painfully hard against your back. He peers over your shoulder, down at Sadie, snaking his right arm around your side before grabbing a handful of her hair. 

“Sadie, I am going to try something, just stay still and if you want us to stop, double tap my leg.” She begins to nod but Jake pulls her off of you to get a verbal confirmation. “Got it,” she says, looking up at you, wiping her dripping chin with the back of her hand, eagerly returning her mouth to you as you shutter against her. 

Jake tightens his grip around you and widens his stance, situating you two perfectly, almost fused together as one, with his cheek nuzzled up against yours. With a handful of Sadie’s hair, he begins to rock his hips. “Come on baby, rock with me,” he says. You begin to move with the rhythm of his hips, a loud drawn-out moan fills the heated air, your clit perfectly grinding against Sadie’s tongue. 

“That’s it, love, let me grind you onto Sadie’s face.” His words alone send your mind reeling and you completely surrender to him. Your hands leave the back of his neck, falling to steady yourself on the bed behind Sadie, Jake following you to this new angle. He takes advantage of the increased mobility to press you hard against him, holding Sadie’s head steady for you, as he quickens his pace and begins to fuck you onto Sadie’s face faster.  Jake’s own moans start to permeate the air as he humps his dick against your backside in search of desperate relief. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he spits out, licking at your ear. You can’t tell if it’s the actual pleasure or how fucking depraved this act is that has you chasing your high. Sadie continues her devastating pace with her tongue and fingers, only to reach around  Jake and push you both hard into her mouth. 

“Ah, fuck!” you yelp out and hear her moan against your clit. Jake’s own breathing is hot and heavy in your ear. “Fuck yes baby, that’s it.” He continues working you both into Sadie’s mouth as they get you close and starting to see stars. 

“Oh fuck, you both feel so good” you breathe out. 

“Is our pretty girl going to cum for us?” Jake says. “You going to finish all over Sadie’s pretty face?” Sadie pulls away for a moment, still working her fingers at a punishing pace. “Please Y/N, I want it, just like this” she spits out before returning her mouth to you. 

You begin to white knuckle the sheets, “Fuck fuck fuck FUCK” you scream, “Cum for us baby, do it, do it Y/N,” Jake authoritatively breathes out.

With Sadie reaching deeper inside you, pointedly flicking at your clit, and Jake fucking you against her mouth with his dick hard and leaking against your back, you’re nearly catapulted into another dimension. Your body is almost weightless as Jake holds you and Sadie steadies you with her hands, now resting firmly on your hips. Your moans come out as screams as Sadie works your wet release out of you before you hear the sound of it hitting the marble tile below, the filthy sounds echoing throughout the room. 

“Holy fucking shit, Y/N,” Jake breathes out as he peers further over you after feeling your orgasm on his bare feet. “That’s my good girl, that’s it, baby, fucking soak us.” 

You are completely fucked out, Sadie’s lapping at your clit makes you spasm as the rest of your release gushes out and drips down her face. You stay hunched over, heaving, arms barely holding you up against the bed, as Sadie gently runs her hands up and down your thighs reassuringly and Jake peppers kisses on your back. 

“Relax, Y/N. Just breathe baby, that’s it,” he speaks softly against your skin. After a moment, you catch your breath and find the strength to move one hand to Sadie’s face as she stays kneeling in front of you. You run your hand over her soaked face, letting out a breathy laugh that you two shared. 

“Fuck Sadie, you are a marvel,” you breathe out. 

“Y/N that has got to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, you two are so fucking sexy,” she replies, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh. You chuckle again at her words before reaching down to help her stand up before motioning to Jake. 

“Come on baby, help me get her cleaned up,” you say, raising your eyebrow at him and he nods, getting the message loud and clear. You lead the charge, taking to one side of her face and Jake takes the other, cleaning your release right off of her face. 

“Mmmmm” Jake hums. “You taste even better like this, if that’s even possible.” And just like that, you can feel your core dripping again. A devilish grin falls over your face. 

“Speaking of taste, Sadie, I haven’t tasted you in the way I want to yet.” You watch Sadie’s eyes darken as you back her to the bed. You slowly lower you both onto the bed, as you crawl up to Sadie’s face, sucking kisses all over her neck, running your teeth over her collarbone as she melts into your touch. As you continue to trace your teeth over Sadie’s chest, you reflexively sink your teeth in and yelp out in response to feeling Jake’s warm mouth against your cunt. 

“Sorry baby” you whisper up to Sadie before placing a gentle kiss on the bite. She smiles and takes your hair back behind your ear. 

“Fuck, baby” you hear Jake moan against you. “I can still taste the fruits of Sadie’s labor and damn is it fucking sweet, mhmmm.” The sound of him slurping you only makes you drip more into his mouth before he pulls off and begins to stroke himself at the sight before him. 

“I bet you taste just as sweet” you mumble over Sadie’s stomach, your mouth making its way down to her heat. You hear Sadie moan softly, placing kisses on her mound. “Sadie, baby…” you call out. She sits up on her elbows and looks at you. 

“Do you think we should let Jake fuck me while I eat you out all nice and pretty?” You can almost hear Jake’s eyes roll back at your remark. Sadie flashes a devilish grin, looking back at him stroking himself behind your raised ass. 

“He’s has been so good for us, hasn’t he?” she says smugly. The way she jumped right into your game without a word had you lustful once again. “But only if you think it’s okay,” she continued. You smiled back at her, before turning to Jake. 

“Jakey, say thank you to Sadie for letting you fuck me.” Jake’s entire body shuttered as his hand quickened for a few more strokes along his dick before stopping. “Thank you, Sadie, for letting me fuck Y/N,” he moaned without a second thought, absolutely desperate to finally feel you around him. He crawled onto the bed, kneeling behind you as you resumed your work on Sadie’s waiting heat. 

As your tongue found her clit, Jake seamlessly pushed right into you, still wet with your last orgasm. “And thank you, Sadie, for eating this pussy so good, Y/N feels so fucking incredible,” Jake stuttered out. Not missing a beat, he leans down to your ear, and whispers, “How’s your cake taste baby?” You groan against Sadie’s clit at Jake’s comment, your mind racing from the feeling of him inside you and her quivering underneath you.

“Fucking hell,” Sadie breathed out, throwing her head back at the sensation of the vibrations of your moan against her core. “You two are intoxicati- oh, fuck Y/N.” As Sadie moaned out, you felt Jake’s dick twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ,'' he groaned, continuing to pound into you. Sadie lifted your head from her core as she watched your face contort with pleasure as Jake’s dick brushed your cervix. You breathe out a shaky moan, louder than you anticipated. Sadie’s hand snaked under your chin as she beckoned you up on top of her. 

“God, I could cum just from watching your pretty face as he fucks you. Let me.” Fuck, if she didn’t know all the right things to say. You slowly moved up on Sadie, as Jake followed, and you laid on top of her. She licks at your neck while Jake continues to work you from behind, leaning down to lick up your spine. 

“Fuck Jake, your cock feels so fucking good,” you whine out. 

“Yeah baby?” he asks smugly and you nod feverishly. An idea sparked as Jake reminded you just how powerful his thrusts can be. You raised your fingers to Sadie’s mouth and she immediately sealed her mouth around them. With your coated fingers, you reached between you two and slid them into Sadie’s warmth. Her hands flew up to push against the headboard.

“Fuck, Y/N” she whined as her eyes rolled back. 

“That’s it, baby, let Jakey fuck my fingers into you,” you mutter, looking down at her with deep lust in your eyes. Jake let out a loud groan as he watched you both. As Jake’s hips slammed into you, you moaned into Sadie’s mouth, your fingers pumping her with the same force and pace, only to find her moaning right back into yours, it made your pussy quiver. 

“Jesus, fuck, Y/N, don’t do that, I can’t hold it if you do” Jake begs.

“So then don’t” you whimpered back through your own moans. You turned back to Sadie. 

“Sadie” you sigh out. “I need you to —oh fuck— I need you to cum for me,” you paused to let out a loud groan as Jake’s dick perfectly brushed your cervix. The force mirrored in the way your fingers were working Sadie. 

“Fuck fuck fuck” Sadie hollered out, “I’m close Y/N.” You curled your finger ever so slightly, “OH god, yeah.” She huffed out. 

“God, you’re fucking that pussy so well Y/N… fuck that’s so sexy,” Jake groans, slamming his hips into you. You try to answer but Jake’s cock has left your head completely empty of any conceivable thoughts. You reach back your free hand to intertwine with his on your hip as you lock eyes with Jake. 

“Make me cum baby, make us cum, pound into me, I can take it.” An animalistic growl bolstered out of Jake as his hips punished you, his balls violently slapping against you and your fingers sending Sadie over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” she sang out as she started to release on your hand. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered against her as you moved your hand to hang off the back of Jake’s neck right as he lifted one of his knees so his foot was flat on the bed, the added leverage delicious, your vision going white.

“Baby I’m there,” you cry out as tears threaten to leave the corners of your eyes, squeezing them shut. 

“Oh fuck Y/N, Jesus, I’m going to cum–fuck, fuuuck,” Jake groaned, thrusting deep into you.

“Fuck me full, Jake. Please, I’m cum-“You didn’t even get the words out before you were collapsing into Sadie as your orgasm takes hold. 

“God, baby, I can feel you squirting out around my cock. Holy shit, don’t stop,” and with that, Jake rocketed into his own orgasm as you gushed around him. The three of your moans coat the walls as you come down from your highs. You all collapsed in a dog pile taking a few minutes to catch your breath, before you all began to laugh.  

You eventually manage to untangle from each other, falling back into the effortless banter you experienced with each other in the hotel bar hours ago. The late hour has your eyelids feeling heavy as you all fight off much-needed sleep. 

“Wow, it’s later than I thought,” Sadie spoke out, turning on her side to look at you both.

“You’re welcome to stay if you like, the bed is big enough. Or Jake and I can take the pull out,” you suggest as Jake nods in confirmation. 

“That’s very kind, but I better be getting home” Sadie answers. “Besides, my car will get towed if it’s still there when rush hour starts in– god, a few hours.” Sadie’s remark had you all notice the time and groan. 

“I had a lot of fun,” she says with a genuine smile. She departed shortly after as you and Jake lay in bed curled up in each other. 

“God Y/N, that was beyond my wildest dreams,” Jake says as you nuzzle into his chest. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, baby. You fulfilled my dreams too, you know,” you answer with a smile. A wicked smile grows across his face.

“You’re so hot, get over here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a passionate kiss before turning off the lamp, allowing you both to drift off to sleep happily and dream about the unbelievable events that just transpired.

————————————————————————

Taglist:

@highladyofasgard

[seeingivy]

the new romantics

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: la la la. good old usual clown angst show UNTIL it isn't.

an: happy thanksgiving! I recommend relishing on all the words in this one, this chapters a big one! <3

previous part linked here

--

Three days later, Levi walks into your room (Colt’s room) with a box tucked under his arm. You’re caught off guard by his presence, as he sits flat on the ground next to you. 

In the four days following your meltdown, you were lucky enough that the scenes they were filming had nothing to do with you. And that Colt and Porco - who might be your new favorite person - were more than willing to bring you food so you wouldn’t have to leave the safe confines of their room (that you were ambushing). 

“Hi kid.” 

“Hi Levi.” you respond, hiking your knees to your chest and crossing your ankles over each other. 

Levi’s quietly sitting at your side, and by the look on his face, you can tell that he’s simmering. There’s something on the tip of his tongue, that he won’t quite say. 

That was always the thing with Levi. While you were easily able to discern what he was feeling, a skill that took practice throughout years, you could never quite figure out why. Why he was sitting here in your room with you, why the two of you were arguing, why he’s got this dusty box placed in between you. 

You give him a strange look, before he opens up his little box. It’s filled with different cassettes, pictures, and letters - ones you had sent to Levi over the past few years. 

You swallow hard, leaning against the back of the bed, as you flip the little leaflet in your fingers.  Two little golden envelopes, with your name in big italic letters printed on it. 

Best Actress in a Leading Role 

Y/N L/N - Attack on Titan  

“Didn’t realize you kept this.” you murmur. 

“You were just so excited. All over the place that you forgot to take it. Figured you’d want it someday.” Levi murmurs. 

You flip the second one over, mouth dry when you read it. 

Triple Threat Commendation - Y/N L/N 

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask. 

Levi looks over, steely gray eyes peering into yours. 

“I want you to think about why you’re here.” Levi states. 

You swallow hard, the tone in his voice biting. 

“You were here before, for this. And now I need you to sit there and think really hard about why you’re here right now.” 

You lean back, against the back of the bed, as you flip the little leaflet in your hand. And run your fingers over your italicized name, a sight that you had been waiting to see for years. Quite literally, the only thing you wanted. 

“I don’t know, Levi. I don’t know why I’m here.” you respond. 

It’s embarrassing. So embarrassing, that you’re crying straight onto the envelope, smudging the paper, as it courses through you. 

That you don’t know what you’re doing, that you hate it here, and that really everyone else must hate that you’re here too. 

“I’ll ask you again, Y/N. Really think about it.” Levi murmurs.. 

You look over at him, at his eyes fixed so neatly on the picture in his hands, one of the ones he plucked from the box. You scoot closer to him, only to catch that it’s a picture of him, Marco, and Eren, smiling right into the camera. 

“Levi-” you start. 

“I’m not trying to punish you. I just need you to think about it. It’ll make things easier for you too.” Levi states. 

“I know you’re not trying to punish me, Levi.” you murmur, embarrassed that you had even said that to him in the first place. 

Levi smiles, placing his hands over your closed ones and squeezing. 

“I know. You’ve just got a shitty attitude problem.” he states. 

“I get it from my dad.” you respond, nudging him in the shoulder and smiling. 

Levi stands up, leaving the box and its content on the floor next to you. He shoots you a smile, one that you relish in, as he reaches for the door. Except he stops halfway on his way out and murmurs something that ignites the warmth in your chest. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, Levi?” 

“I am not your father.” he responds, before shutting the door on his way out.

--

You’re staring at the door of the set, the tiny pebbles crunching under your shoes, as you nervously teeter on your heels. You can hear everyone in there, the cameras moving around in the air, Levi’s voice animated and louder than everyone else’s, and the pounding footsteps of the crew marching in unison. 

“You okay?” 

You turn your head over your shoulder to find Eren standing next to you, his script and notebook tucked under his arm. 

“Oh. Hi Eren. Yeah, I-I was just taking a second I guess.” you murmur. 

The thought of having a repeat of the other day, of being so overcome with that feeling that you could barely even function, scares you. And the possibility of it happening, it’s so probable that it makes your stomach hurt. 

And it pokes at those deep fears that you had. About coming back, about doing this again. Because you’re filming Sasha’s death scene and…and you need to give a performance. A real one. And if you can’t do this, if you aren’t up to the par of your standards, you’re just…

Setting yourself up for that criticism. The ones that echo in the farthest corners of your brain, whispering into your skin and making you doubt every little move you make. You’ll get a shitty review from The Elms, while everyone else gets glowing ones. You’ll be the lackluster lead while everyone shines, before everyone once and for all, forgets you. 

If they even remember who you are in the first place.

“We aren’t filming Sasha’s death scene today.” 

You turn your head, eyes wide at Eren, as you beckon for him to explain. Because you were sure, almost positive, that this was the day you were going to do this. And you spent all night, trying to visualize it, how it would feel to have her staring at you lifelessly, in efforts to make the scene more palatable, the entire thing easier. 

You barely lasted ten minutes before it all went crashing down. 

“I requested that Levi switch the schedule. I just don’t think we’re ready to film that scene yet.” 

The wave of relief takes over you in full flesh, that block of feeling in your throat suddenly clearing, as you take the deepest, crispest breath of fresh air in. And the new set of problems come rushing in. 

You’re an actress. You can face anything, and-and the fact that they had to change the entire filming schedule for you just proves it. That you’re unprofessional. That you aren’t meant to be here, that this isn’t a place that you should be when you’re all but a fraud next to everyone else. 

“I-I could have done the scene, Eren.” you murmur, not even giving yourself the full conviction to prove you believed what you were saying. 

Eren gives you a soft smile, before responding. 

“I’m sure you could have. You were always stronger than me in that sense. But, I-I really don’t think I could stomach it today. I’ve been anxious since we watched them.” 

You pale, the embarrassment coursing through you. At the fact that you let Eren comfort you yesterday, till you could at least stand on your feet, just for him to be suffering in his own silence. 

You reach for his elbow, squeezing hard on his skin. 

“Eren. You could have told me.” you murmur, burrowing your eyes into his green ones. 

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Y/N.” Eren states, making the motions for you to walk into the set. 

The two of you walk in tandem, your footsteps lining up with one another's, as you walk into the chaos of the set. You and Eren get a few hello’s, which you happily return before walking up to the board and taking note of the scene lined up. 

The table scene. 

At that point, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, as you look down to find Gabi looking up at you, with a bright smile on her face. You return it in full, resting your face against her cheek, as you smile. 

“Hi Gabs. How are you?” you ask. 

“I’m great! I love your new haircut.” she states. 

You absentmindedly reach up to tuck your hair behind your ears, a slight shade lighter and the smallest bit shorter. Levi was increasingly serious on the fact that you were all getting makeovers for the season and you were no exception to the rule. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” you respond, pinching the skin on her cheek. 

“Hi Hobo. How are you?” Gabi asks, turning her head to Eren. 

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to flick Gabi’s forehead, followed by her swatting him off in protest. Which is only followed by Eren making moves to tickle her and Gabi getting ready to attack him, as the two of them start laughing and moving around each other. The sentiment of it makes you smile, that Eren’s the same as he was before. 

Always popular with the kids. 

Hange walks up, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and squeezing as they call for Gabi and Eren to stop. 

“Hey. Are you two ready?” Hange asks. 

“Yeah. We’ll head over right now. Thanks Hange.” Eren states. 

You watch Hange link their arm in with Eren’s as the two of them walk straight onto the set and settle into the chair. And you can tell that Hange’s teasing Eren about something, because they’re both lightly shoving each other and smiling. 

You swallow hard, as you take your seat at the table across from Eren. He’s nervously shaking his leg, as he flips through his script and cracks all the knuckles on his fingers. It’s the first scene you’re filming after coming back, the anxiousness pooling in your stomach under the lights. 

“Eren?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you still make notes in your script?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you want to switch? Like we used to before?” 

Eren nods, sliding his set of pages over, as you hand him yours and start pacing through his notes. They’re largely incoherent, the meaning entirely lost to you, as Eren quickly realizes and looks over. 

“Sorry. They’re not scene specific, they’re kind of…mental reminders for me. I didn’t realize we were still going to do this, but I-I’ll make sure I have good notes for the rest of the scenes.” Eren says. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.” 

“No, no. It’s what makes us the best, right?” 

You give him a polite smile, as you read through Eren’s lines. They’re all highlighted in light green, with the tiniest bit of ramblings scribbled on the side. Silent reminders, he’s giving himself. 

To breathe. 

“Are you ready?” Levi asks, hands firm behind his back. 

“Yeah.” you and Eren respond. 

“Eren, go get Armin then.” 

Eren nods, standing up from his chair, leaving you and Levi under the bright lights. He pulls the empty chair, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest as he glares at you. 

“Are you actually ready to film this scene?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask. 

Levi rolls his eyes, leaning forward on his forearms, as he brings his face closer to yours and whispers. 

“There is nothing wrong with admitting you’re not ready for this yet. This isn’t a particularly easy scene to film, especially for you, and I don’t want-” 

“I’m fine, Levi.” you respond. 

You can tell from the look on Levi’s face that he doesn’t quite believe you, disapproving of your response, before he stalks off and starts setting the cameras into place. Armin and Eren walk up, followed by Gabi, as you each take your respective seats in the chairs. 

Levi’s still stuck adjusting the cameras and the lights, which leaves the four of you awkwardly simmering in your seats. You shoot Gabi a smile, which she returns, before you tuck Eren’s script under the table and Eren does the same with yours. 

“Eren.” Armin states. 

“Hm?” 

“I heard you’ve been writing some of the scenes with Levi and Hange now.” Armin states.

“Really? That’s so cool, Eren!” Gabi states, reaching forward to squeeze his tightly shut fists. 

“Yeah. Thanks Gabs.” Eren responds. 

“This one must have been real easy for you to write, huh?” Armin asks, all but glaring at him. 

Eren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he swallows hard and shuts his eyes.

“Save it for the scene, Armin.” Eren murmurs, nervously cracking all of the fingers in his bones, as he nervously looks over his shoulder and waits for Levi to finish. 

It’s the smallest bit of solace you suppose. That you’re not the only sore thumb here. That Eren too has people who can’t stand to talk to him.

“Okay, Eren. On your count.” Levi states, giving the four of you a thumbs up. 

You all shift in your seats, adjusting your hands on the table, as Eren all gives you a meek nod before starting. 

“The things I do and choices I make are all decided by my own free will.” 

Eren’s dropped his voice an octave, the tone in his voice more gravelly and hoarse as he speaks. And it immediately reminds you of that shitty argument the two of you had in the moonlight outside of the house in Seattle. 

So that’s what Armin meant. 

You can immediately feel your throat drying, rough as sandpaper as you’re suddenly too aware of the lights shining onto your skin above. The warmth of them singeing the ends of your skin. 

“So your actions after meeting Yelena were all you?” Armin asks. 

“Yes.” Eren responds. 

“No. You’re being manipulated.” you respond. 

You look up to find Eren looking at you, the emotion in his eyes so devoid, so far away that it makes your skin sweat. That it makes you deeply uncomfortable, like you’re talking to a version of him that’s somewhere else entirely. 

“You-you wouldn’t get kids and innocents involved, even if they were enemies! Plus, I know you care about us more than anyone.” 

You swallow hard, the words burning on your tongue. 

“Don’t you? The reason you saved me in that cabin…the reason you gave me this scarf is because you’re kind, Eren.” 

“I said keep your hands on the table.” Eren states, his voice so unrelenting that it sends tears sprouting down your eyes. 

An entire five lines early. You fight down the urge to vomit, that disgusting acidic feeling accumulating in your mouth, as Eren continues, the gravel of his voice making the hair on your arms stand up. 

You ball up your fists, as you mutter out your lines - knowing damn well they weren’t loud enough or with half of the fevor Levi wanted - as you reach the part you were dreading the most. The mere anxiety of it, of Eren’s grating voice saying those words, has you breaking skin on your palms, as you look up at his green eyes. 

“Your family was made to forget who they are and live only to protect. In other words, slaves.”

“Enough, Eren!” Armin screams, slamming one of his fists on the table. 

“Do you know who I hate more than anyone? Those who aren’t free. Just like livestock.” Eren states, the tears warm and burning as they start flowing down your cheeks, with no means of stopping this time. 

“Eren!” Armin screams, again. 

“Just seeing you has pissed me off, and now I finally know why. I can’t stand the sight of a slave who obeys orders without a question.” 

You take a deep breath in, holding it in your chest. 

“Ever since I was little, I’ve hated you, Y/N.” Eren states, the tone in his voice definitive. 

Armin, right on cue, climbs on to the table and screams. 

“How could you say that to her, Eren?”

And you miss your cue, to get up and tackle Armin onto the table, because Eren’s suddenly crying, his hands balled into fists as he stands up. 

“I didn’t fucking mean it!” Eren screams. 

You look over at Gabi and then Armin, as Eren quickly realizes what he’s said. And then he all but storms out of the set, almost like he’s embarrassed, as Levi calls for a fifteen minute break and Hange rushes out after him. 

You and Armin share a weary look, as you help Armin off the table, and feel a tugging on your sleeve. You’re entirely thrown off by the outburst, his words hanging in your ears, as you readjust the table cloth on the table with shaky hands. 

“Is Eren okay?” Gabi asks, a fixed frown on her face. 

“He is. I’m going to go check on him, okay?” you state, giving her a pinch on the cheek before you stand up and make your way out to the set. 

The pebbles are crunching loudly under your feet, as you pace around and look for Eren and Hange. Only to find them slightly to the left, Eren hanging with his head in his knees as Hange rubs circles into his back. 

You swallow hard, before you walk up and clear your throat. Eren looks up, eyes teary and red, as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Hange. Can I talk to Eren?” you murmur. 

Hange looks over at Eren, before giving you a smile and standing up. 

“He’s all yours. Shout for me if you need me, yeah?” 

You give Hange a nod and they lovingly ruffle Eren’s hair, before walking off. You take the seat next to him, sitting flat on your hands. He’s still crying, the tears falling straight into his hands as he hiccups. 

“Eren.” 

He clenches his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, almost like he’s wincing at your presence, as he starts shaking his head. 

“Go away,” he murmurs. 

You swallow hard, swallowing the nervousness in your throat. 

“No.” 

“What are you doing here? Like seriously, just-” 

“You would do it for me.” 

He looks up, his green eyes staring at yours in his confusion. His tears have momentarily stopped, the wetness spread all over his cheeks and his hands. 

“You would do it for me. You did it the other day and at the funeral and I just- I owe it to you. You’re there for me and…” 

“You think you owe me something? Do you even hear yourself?” Eren asks, tone biting. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he thinks it’s okay for him to comfort you, but not for you to comfort him. You wrack your brain, trying to think of the best way to word this - or the best way to get him to listen to you - when it hits you. 

You should take a page from his book. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me.” you state. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re Bruce and I’m Margaret. Now talk.” 

Eren scoffs, wiping the back of his hands on his cheeks, as he coughs. 

“Y/N. Don’t be stupid.” 

“Who?” 

Eren stares at you, green eyes peering into yours, as he sighs. 

“Are you going to let this go?” 

“No.” you respond. 

Eren sighs, leaning back on the heels of his hands as he looks up at the sky. 

“I just had a long day. And I don’t really like this scene.” he states, leaning back into the grass. 

You follow suit, the blades of grass tickling your skin, as you both look up at the cloudy sky. 

“Sometimes, I can tell that the anxiety is like…bubbling. It’s not enough to make me freak out, but enough for me to notice it’s there. Like I’m hypervigilant, just-just waiting for it to come out.” Eren states. 

You beckon for him to continue. 

“Like I wake up late. It throws off how I get ready for the day and then I’m at set. I say the wrong things to everyone, say something weird or awkward, and then when I’m filming I know I’m not doing it right. That it’s all wrong and I try to take breaths, try to fix it, but that deep seated wrongness just doesn’t go away.” he responds. 

“Does anything help?” you ask, looking over at him. 

“Connie. He’s always good about this kind of stuff. He-he knows the right thing to say. And Hange’s comforting to be around.” 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, sliding your hand down until your fingers are locked together. Your skin is burning from the touch, as you feel Eren’s hand tighten and his eyes shift over to you. 

“What are you doing?” he whispers. 

“I don’t know. It just felt right.” you whisper back. 

Eren’s fidgeting with your hands, before he’s cracking every last knuckle on your hand. A nervous tick he’s had since you two were younger. 

“Don’t crack the smaller ones.” 

“I remember. You don’t like how those feel.” he responds, voice soft. 

You hum in response as you absentmindedly give Eren your other hand, as he fidgets with every last knuckle of yours, waiting till he hears that satisfying pop before he stops. And then he’s holding both of your hands in his, his breaths calm and even, as he runs his hands over both of your knuckles. 

And you both stay there, you completely dry of any words that could help him and Eren - the look on his face blank as he stares up at the sky. Eren was always better at this type of stuff than you and that much is apparent still. 

“Thank you, Margaret.” 

“You’re welcome, Bruce.”

And when you and Eren stand up - him brushing the smallest blades of grass out of your hair and you wiping the last of the wetness off your cheek - you curse yourself. 

For falling back into it so easily with him. And for wanting to let yourself fall the entire way. 

You cry almost the entire night.

--

You tend to avoid them when they all congregate in big groups. You’re not sure what it is exactly - maybe the fact that you've been living like a hermit crab for a better part of the past few months - but whenever you find yourself with them, it’s too awkward for you to stomach. 

Except for a few situations, like this one, where you find that you have to be there. 

“Y/N! Come here!” Jean screams. 

You peek your head out of the little doorway, to find them all sitting around in a circle in the living room. There’s an obscene amount of flowers covering every square inch of the living room, a sweet smell in the air. 

“Hi Jean. I was just going to go to bed.” 

“And now you’re not!” Connie replies, giving you a smile which you can’t help but ignore. 

You frown, as you feel someone join you at your side. And you look to your left only to consequently back straight into the wall behind you and hit your head. 

“Jesus fuck, Eren. You scared the shit out of me.” you pant, rubbing the tiniest little spot on the back of your head. 

He reaches forward, hands secured around his head, as you look up at him. And swallow hard. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Oh my god, Eren. What’s on your face?” 

“Huh?” 

You reach forward, fingers on his chin as you move his face to the left and to the right. 

“Are you trying to grow a beard, Eren?” you state, disgusted. 

Eren rolls his eyes, before swatting your hand off, and settling in next to Connie. 

“I told you Y/N wouldn’t like Hobo Eren.” Gabi states. 

“Well, I could have told you that. Y/N’s never really been into facial hair.” Eren states. 

“You can barely even grow any, Eren.” you deadpan. 

“Who wouldn’t like Hobo Eren? Look at him! He’s just so dreamy.” Reiner states, shaking Eren’s entire frame in his hands as Eren smiles. 

“Yeah, he smells a little. But he’s got that….wet dog charm to him.” Connie states, smiling brightly. 

You snort, as you settle in between Porco and Colt, the two of them shooting you polite smiles. 

“I just got a bit…scared, that’s all.” you respond. 

“I think Jean has the best look.” Mikasa states, twisting one of the sets of bouquets in her fingers. 

“You’re like literally biased. He’s your fiance.” Porco states. 

“It’s very hard to pull off a mullet.” Mikasa states, glaring at him. 

“Who do you think has the best new look, Y/N?” Gabi asks, tugging on the ends of your ankles. She’s seated right by your feet, directly next to Falco, as they play a very tame game of cards. Falco has yet to acknowledge you, since the day you first got back, and you have yet to try either. 

“Probably, Reiner. I couldn’t even recognize him.” 

“Not seeing me for two years will do that to you.” Reiner states, earring a fit of laughter from the group.  

You smile, cheeks burning with embarrassment, as the rest of them laugh. They all move along, but you’re stuck on that, as Colt gives you a reassuring smile. But it does little to curb the tears that are collecting in your eyes, the unease that’s coursing through you. 

“That’s right! I was wondering what you were doing here.” 

You look up to find the girl, seated right by Mikasa, looking straight at you. 

“I swear every time I look up there’s like a new cast member I don’t know.” 

The group of them laugh, as you bite the soft tissue of your cheeks and look back at her. 

“This is Amy. She’s Mikasa’s cousin. She’s going to be the maid of honor at the wedding, which is why she’s here. With this god awful set of flowers.” Sasha states. 

“I didn’t realize you would all have such strong opinions about the flowers!” she states. 

You look around the sets at the table, with a new eye. And not that you’re biased (because you totally are), but the flowers really are…awful. A bit too gaudy, too artificial for people like Jean and Mikasa. You ease off of the couch, as you twist the vases in your hand. 

“Do you guys mind?” you ask, looking up at Jean and Mikasa. 

They both shake their heads, as you start sifting through each of the vases. You pick out the flowers that make the most sense to you, as Connie makes it a point to make fun of Porco’s British accent for the next twenty minutes. 

When you’re done - a mix of violets, daisies, and baby breath - you snag the ribbon off the little box they came in and tie it around the stems. And then hand it to Mikasa, who's running her fingers over the petals. 

“It’s daisies and violets. Those are both of your birth flowers and the baby’s breath just kind of brings it together. The ribbon should definitely be white instead of pink, because it seems too loud when you add a color like that in. And you can easily make boutonnieres out of violets for the groom's party and have the girls wear corsages with daisies on them.” you state. 

“I love that idea. Thank you, Y/N.” Mikasa states, handing the flowers to Jean as he twists them in his own fingers. He gives you a big smile, which is enough to curb that sense of unease in your skin. 

“That’s what your name is!” Amy states, smacking her hand against her forehead. 

And it’s back. 

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you state. 

“Wait, didn’t you like…quit acting?” she asks. 

You swallow hard. 

“Yeah.” you state, laughing awkwardly. 

“Oh. So what are you doing here, then?” 

You absentmindedly look over at Eren, before pinching your lips together. 

“Just back for the final season.” you respond. 

“Oh. Was it like a PR type of thing? To build up hype around the show? You celebrities do things like that all the time, right?” she asks. 

You can feel the group of them looking at you, steely eyes staring into yours, as you set the last of the flowers down on the table. You knew that this would happen eventually, that you would get berated about what you did in your two years off. That some people wouldn’t understand it, that those whispering rumors of everything you do being fake would come back, but it was too early for this. The tears are warm and hot, the regret even hotter, as you stand up. 

“No. It wasn’t. But that’s besides the point. It was um, really nice to meet you and I hate to cut this short and all but I have to wake up early tomorrow, so…” 

“Right! I’ll see you at the wedding.” she states, extending her hand to yours as you begrudgingly shake. 

And shuffle straight into Colt’s room and cry straight onto his pillow. 

--

It gets easier to place yourself into the pacing on the set. Most of the scenes that Levi’s chosen to film are around Gabi, Falco, and Kaya, and it’s easier to be there and watch them than be in the house with everyone else. And it seems that’s someone’s always lingering around, an open ear to talk to. 

“Are you enjoying your time here?” you ask. 

“Yeah. It’s a nice environment to be in.” Niccolo responds, giving you a polite smile. 

The two of you are playing solitaire, an invitation that he extended to you after you were content scribbling through the ends of your script for Eren. 

“Levi and Hange always made it a point. To make it that way.” you murmur. 

“I can imagine. Especially for Hange, all the scrutiny that came their way back in the day, it’s…” Niccolo states. 

“The funniest part is I didn’t even know any of that had happened when I got here. Mikasa kind of had to tell me.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I-I looked up to Hange a lot. Idolized her even. And all I saw was someone who was so…true to themselves. They said whatever they wanted and they came out on top anyways. Turns out, they were suffering almost the entire time. And they wouldn’t have even made it out if it weren’t for Levi.” 

“Same could be said for you, no?” 

You look up at him, at his brown eyes wide and peering into yours. 

“Sasha talks.” 

“And what does she say?” 

“It doesn’t really mean much and I don’t want to rub salt in wounds or anything or-” 

“Being here is a big salt in the wound regardless.” you respond. 

Niccolo frowns, the look on his face fixed. 

“She said that in the earlier years, people gave you a horrible time. For reasons that were out of your control, like Hange. They hated them because they were queer? Because they supported things that were right but weren’t mainstream? And they hated you just because your family wasn’t famous. Because you were a successful, self-made woman. You didn’t have any of that industry etiquette, when things seemed wrong to you, rightfully so, you called shit on it.” 

You roll over the thought in your head. 

“What?” Niccolo asks. 

“I never really saw it that way.” 

“But it’s true isn’t it? Historia all but got groomed by a guy, you didn’t let him get away with it. You had no ins with the industry, but still made it out on top like you did. The Lucky One basically immortalized you as a pop star forever.” Niccolo responds, setting his cards down flat on the floor. 

“I guess. It just seems like at the end of the day, it wasn’t even worth it.” you respond. 

“Well, you’re talking about it like it’s all over.” 

“Huh?” 

“Things are far from finished. For you, especially. I have a feeling you’re just getting started.” Niccolo responds. 

You and Niccolo look up, to find Gabi and Falco at your sides, fresh off of the set. They’re both crossing their legs and taking their seats next to you as Eren walks up and joins you. He always seems to be here, since he is writing this all with Hange and Eren now, always giving the two of them pointers and leading them the right way. 

“Hi guys.” Gabi says. 

“Hi Gabs. You did great. You too, Falco.” you respond, reaching forward to ruffle her hair. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” Falco responds, giving you a halfhearted smile. 

“What are we talking about?” Eren asks. 

“Sasha. And how much Niccolo loves her.” you respond, giving him a smug grin. 

“Our favorite topic of conversation.” Eren responds, nudging Niccolo in the side, as a pink flush crawls up his neck. 

You deal a set of cards to everyone, ignoring your awkwardly shaky hands when you hand Eren his and zone out through the rest of this conversation. Because all you can hear in your head is Niccolo, and Levi asking you what you’re doing here, and every tiny fractal of a memory playing in your head. 

And really, it’s almost jarring how different everything is because you can barely bring yourself to get out of your head about everything. Because that god awful, damper of your thoughts brings ruin to everything. You thought you’d have Mikasa and Levi when you’d get here, that they’d walk you through this, only for them to be miles away from you. 

You figure you’d fight the urge to throttle Eren every time he looked at you, but his presence seems to be one of the only things that puts you at ease. That he’s quiet, that you’re both not you and that it’s easier that way, that nothing happened. 

That eventually, things would work themselves out. You’d all come back here and things would fall back into place again. That Connie would make a joke and you’d all laugh, that Armin would take a few pictures, that you and Eren would just be something again, no matter what it was. 

But you sit here, stuck in how none of that is true. That you’re at the end of a bottomless pit. That things are going to stay this way, that this is how they are, that this is what happens when you make the wrong choice. 

“Well, the convenience store is closing on Friday, so you better get a move on if you want something, Falco.” Niccolo states, setting his cards down. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Huh?” Niccolo repeats, looking up at you. 

“The convenience store is closing? The one on Scott Street? With….with the slushie machine?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Yeah. The one run by that really old guy, with curly hair.” 

You set your cards down, irritation flaming, as you turn to Eren. 

“Did you know?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” Eren responds, twisting his cards in his fingers. 

“And you weren’t going to tell me? Or do anything about it?” 

“What could we do about it?” Eren asks. 

You roll your eyes, bending the cards as you set them down and storm out of the set. And look for that god awful bike, because god forbid that this is one of the things that changes too. That really everything else can change - that you’re going to hate each other, that the one place you love is going to be different - but god, if you can throw any money at someone to keep that place open, then so be it. 

You find the bike in the shed, wheeling it out towards the front door when Eren runs in front of you, grabbing the handles and stopping you in your tracks. 

“What are you doing, Y/N? You can’t ride this thing by yourself.” 

“Well, watch me.” you respond, trying to wrestle it out of his grasp. 

“It’s a tandem bike. You need someone to push the back. And you’ve always been shit at steering.” he responds. 

“And you have a shitty personality, Eren. I guess there’s some things we just can’t really control, can we?” you spit, finally wrestling out of his grasp and moving past him. 

Eren jogs up to your side, trying to stop you in your tracks again.

“Quit trying to stop me, Eren.” 

“I-I’ll come with. Steer for you.” he states, reaching for the handles. 

“No. I want to do this on my own.” you respond. 

“Well, some things you just can’t.” Eren responds. 

“I’m going to the convenience store.” you respond. 

“To what? Stop it from closing?” 

“Yes. I have money. I’m going to use it. It’s like an investment, basically.” 

Eren frowns, stopping at your side again. 

“Y/N. Maybe we shouldn’t go.” 

And the irritation bubbles right to your head and you’re screaming at him in the middle of the pavement. 

“I want to go! I want to make sure this thing stays here, that people get to enjoy it because it’s the only thing I can keep. I can’t get my brother to stop being mad at me, my best friend moved on and picked a new maid of honor, Levi’s ten different levels of disappointment in me, and you…you left me! I know you don’t give a crap about this place, I just want this place that made me happy to stay there.” you shout. 

Eren swallows, before climbing onto the head of the bike and bracing his legs against the pedals. You oblige, climbing on and wrapping your arms around his torso as he starts pedaling. And when you reach there, he’s holding his hand out and helping you off, as you walk into the store. 

The smell is still entirely the same, but the store is heavily hollowed out. Almost all the shelves are empty, the buzzing of the refrigeration turns off and you turn to find your culprit. The owner of the store, that’s been giving you and Eren free slushies since you were fifteen. 

Michael. 

“Y/N! Eren! My little movie stars.” he states, opening his arms wide and enveloping you two in his embrace. 

You sink into the smell, the soft cherry wafting off of him, as he gives you a bright smile. His hair is significantly longer than when you saw him last, the years he’s lived hanging off of his skin. In wrinkles, in the permanent smile lines by his eyes, and his dimples - large and indented into his skin, as opposed to Eren’s. That really only come out on occasion. 

“We’re in a TV show, Michael.” you deadpan. 

“Same thing.” he responds, giving you a bright smile. 

“Are you really closing your store?” you ask. 

He sighs, giving you a smile. 

“Yes. I’m sure that much is obvious.” he responds, placing more items into the box. 

“Are you bankrupt? You should really stop giving free stuff to every kid who walks in here.” you murmur. 

“I’m not bankrupt. It’s just time.” he responds. 

You push yourself up on the counter, dangling your feet off the end as you turn to him. You’re toying with the ends of the tape on the counter, peeling it off as you rack your mind on the right thing to stay. To get him to stay here. And that insurmountable loss - that follows you everywhere - reaches this place too and you can’t handle it. 

“Do you need money to keep it going? We can hire and staff and-” 

“Y/N.” Michael states. 

“We’ll invest. Me and Eren, we-we’ll keep it going. Make sure it’s in good hands. It should-” you mumble. 

Michael sighs, setting the box down, as he glances over at Eren. 

“Always the same, you two.” he states, before walking out of the store. 

You give Eren a weary look, as you pad out of the store, to find Michael opening up the door of his car. You run up to his side, fists curled together. 

“Where are you going?” 

“We are going to the lake. I have something to show you.” he responds. 

You angrily march over to the passenger seat and buckle your seatbelt on, only to find Eren standing at your side of the door. 

“Well, get in.” 

“I’ll stay. Fix up the store for you, yeah?” Eren says. 

“Thank goodness. You god awful children know how to waste my time. And my money.” he responds, giving Eren a smile as he pulls out of the parking lot. 

You glare at Eren as the two of you drive off, the ride not even a full ten minutes, before he pulls into the little meadow. There’s a tiny little lake at the center, expansive enough that you can’t see the end and green grass surrounding the edges. There’s large willow trees, basking the entire place in a shade, as the two of you walk out to a bench and sit on it together. 

“You like the store, Y/N?” he asks. 

“I love the store. It’s-it’s why you can’t close it.” you respond, crossing your legs onto the bench and fidgeting with your hands in the space in between. 

Michael takes a deep breath, before smiling to himself and looking out at the water. 

“I spent my entire life in that store.”

You look out at the lake, at the little ripples keeling through the water as the tiniest wave hits the shore. 

“My mother passed away when I was very young. I don’t remember much, but…she was very fond of nature. Flowers, greenery, lakes.” 

You smile. 

“But my father. He….he spent his entire life in that store with me. And…he was an unrelenting man. Disciplined, principled, habitual. I didn’t know much about him, besides his name. That he worked at the store, that keeping it running was important. That he didn’t say quite much, that sometimes he would when he was angry.” he states. 

You swallow hard, immediately thinking of Eren and Zeke. 

“I moved away, the second I could. I turned eighteen and I-I went running for the hills.” 

“To?” 

“College.” 

“That’s nice. Surely something entirely different, after all that.” you softly add. 

“I was curious. So curious that I wanted to know everything. Every major was one I wanted to do, every class left me with a thousand questions instead of answering them, every person I met was a person I wanted to unravel, to know, deep in their bones.” 

“And did you? Meet someone like that?” you ask. 

Michael turns to you and smiles. 

“Always the romantic, weren’t you?” 

“Who said anything about being a romantic?” 

“Picking up bottles on New Year’s Day is quite a romantic sentiment to me.” he responds. 

You roll your eyes and he laughs, as you beckon for him to continue. 

“Her name was Evangeline. She had ivory hair, long eyelashes, and the tiniest bit of freckles on her skin. Two dimples, one on each side, that were hard not to notice whenever she smiled at me. Smelled like strawberries, never walked on the cracks in the sidewalk, dreaded getting gas to the point that her car would stall and run out.” 

“Quite the lady.” 

Michael smiles. 

“The first love. Always comes with impossible odds. There’s a sweetness, almost a purity to it. That feeling that there is no one else in the universe like this. There’s fumbling, there’s pining, there’s awkward and ugly mistakes.” 

“But you think it’s going to work. You want your love to be real.” you add. 

“Precisely. There’s always a first time for everything, right?” he adds. 

And from that somber tone in his voice, grating in his chest, you feel the tears spill down your eyes. Because you know what happens next. 

“How?” you ask. 

How did she leave him. 

“Accidental drowning. It seems she….she tripped over the ledge on a boat. Must have hit her head or something because when we got her out, she was…was already long gone. Didn’t fight her way back up, just…sank down.” 

You feel a hiccup escape your chest, the feeling so disgusting. That this shitty loss, that it permeates everywhere. That everyone feels it. That no one is safe from it and that truly, nothing stays. 

“I returned to the store. Worked with my dad for some time. It was nice to see the monotony of those types of things. Ring up the items, place them in a bag. Give two unrelenting kids a free drink here and there. Close the shop up until the next day.” 

You frown, your eyes burning, as he smiles at you. He taps on your forehead, on the wrinkles from your frown. 

“I was so deep in it. That feeling. I dug myself into that hole. And I stayed there. That I had experienced everything that I had needed to in life, that things were perfect that way and that nothing else was going to compare.” 

He takes a beat. 

“I was holding onto the memories. And they were holding on to me.”

“But-” 

“Holding onto memories is a good thing. But not when they drag you into the abyss. And that’s where I was - in that store, doing the same thing everyday. Ringing up the items, placing them in boxes and closing up for the night.” he responds. 

You swallow hard. 

“My father talked to me one day,” he states. 

“He was still there?” you ask. 

“He met my mother in that store. That she was reaching for the gum at the same time as him. That their fingers brushed across one anothers, that they split the pack of gum because there was only one left.” 

“And?”

“That he spent his entire life in that store, because she thought she would come back.” 

You wipe your snot on the back of your hand, looking up at him. And at the fact that he’s still smiling. 

“It made sense then. Why he was so untouchable” 

“Because he was waiting for something that wouldn’t ever come back?” 

“Because he was stuck in that store. Sitting in his little corner that he haunts.” 

You swallow hard. 

“When you sit inside, you seem to forget that the sun does rise again. That it falls behind the skyline, but it comes back. The moon follows the same - disappearing and reappearing to be a light in the night. The ocean pulls away from you just to come crashing right back.”  he states. 

“But-” 

“I don’t want to live in the hole anymore. I don’t want to haunt that corner, I don’t want to shy away from the water just because it is deep. It’s cold, it bites your skin, but you feel free in the water. The possibility is there, to let your self fallin the abyss, but you can also choose not to.” 

You can feel the tears falling in full flesh, the pain so palpable when you understand. 

The convenience store is the stagnant spot. And he has every intent to destroy it. 

“You cannot live life when you are so untouchable, Y/N. Living your life requires you to be vulnerable,” he states. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look up to find Eren standing at your side, the bike laying in the grass next to you. You scoot over on the bench, as the tears fall out even harder, the pain of it all so aching. 

At Eren. Holding a slushie, with two straws in the hole. Sitting right at your side. 

You take it in your hands, securing both of your hands around the cup, as you sip the drink. And that familiar mix - of the soda and the cherry covers your tastebuds - sending a chill down your spine. 

Michael sighs, smacking against the skin of his thighs before he stands up. He turns to give the two of you a smile, a hand on both of your heads. 

“You’re just going to leave?” 

“I’ll let Eren tell you the rest. I’ve got a wife waiting for me at home.” he states, walking off with a content smile on his face. 

You almost drop the entire drink over your legs, as you watch him walk off and turn to Eren. He’s got a soft smile on his face too, his head angled up as he watches the clouds move across the sky. 

“He has a wife?” you ask. 

Eren slides the smallest bit away from you and taps on the inscription on the bench. 

For Zola. You let the light in. 

You look up at him, confused. 

“Living your life requires you to be vulnerable. What’s more vulnerable for him than loving again?” Eren responds. 

You nod, turning your head back to the lake. To the waves, pulling away just to come crashing right back. 

“I do care about the convenience store.” Eren states. 

“Hm?” 

“Earlier. You said you thought I didn’t care about it….I basically did the same thing you just did now a few weeks ago when I got back and found out.” Eren responds. 

“Oh.” 

Eren looks over at you. 

“This was one of the hardest things I had to learn when I went to therapy, Y/N.” 

“What?” 

“That you have to hold space for your hurt, to let yourself feel it, but not let it bog you down either.” Eren responds. 

You swallow hard, looking down at the slushie - the colors mixing together into one. 

“The wound is the place where the light enters.” Eren states. 

You swallow hard. 

“Marco gave me a poetry book. And months after he died, I stumbled across it. And it was open right on that page.” 

“He did love his poetry books, didn’t he?” 

“Turns out Michael loves them too. He seems like a Marco type.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you respond. 

Eren stands up, brushing off his palms on his shirt, before he turns and extends his hand to you. You place your hand in his, warm and soft, before you hold it in the air. He makes a move to let go, but you clench harder. 

“Eren.” 

“Yes?” 

Your mind is blank. You can’t think of what to say. Or more appropriately, what to say first. Because he sends your mind into a spiral, that he overwhelms any normal sense, any rationale. 

Because you loved him. And he looks like the person you loved. Feels like him too. 

It’s why you can’t shout at him. Why every rational thought goes out the door, why that unyielding feeling that he’s still the person you knew is there. 

“I know, Y/N. It confuses me too. We'll figure it out." Eren states. 

You and Eren pick the bike up and make your way back in silence. But the air is somewhat lighter. 

--

When you walk into the townhouse, you make it your first point to find Levi. To the point where you march up to his room and pound hard on the door until he answers. All disheveled and the slightest bit of annoyance in his face. 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“I’m here for the right reasons, Levi.” you state. 

Levi’s eyes go wide, almost in curiosity, as he looks up at you and leans against the door. Gesturing for you to continue. You sigh, before reaching forward and wrapping your arms around him. 

For trying to push you to this spot, days earlier. By asking you the question. 

“I’m here to make amends. To move forward.” you state. 

“And?” 

“And that….that requires work on my part. With you and Mikasa. Falco and Eren and-” 

“Eren?” Levi asks, raising his eyebrows. 

You smile. 

“Always his biggest hater, weren’t you?” 

“Naturally.” Levi responds, closing the door behind him before linking your arms and walking down towards the kitchen. 

"Yes, even Eren. I-"

You take a deep breath in.

"I'm done feeling sorry for myself. And I'm done being so...so far away. This is where I'm meant to be. And it's where I'll stay until we're done." you respond.

Levi smiles at you for the first time since you've returned. And you know you'll win him over.

When you walk down, you and Levi move around each other in silence. He’s fixing the food while you drag out the plates, until the music starts blaring. Splitting both of your eardrums. 

You give Levi a motion to wait, as you pad into the living room to catch the sight responsible for the sound. Only to find your heart swelling, burning at it. 

They’re all dancing. Almost every single one of them, standing on their feet, hands pressed together, and screaming. 

The lyrics to your song. 

Baby, we're the new romantics Come on, come along with me Heartbreak is the national anthem We sing it proudly We are too busy dancing To get knocked off our feet Baby, we're the new romantics The best people in life are free

And maybe, just possibly, it draws something in you. That you wrote this song, years prior, to sick it to them. Because you were going to prove everyone, who had doubted you, that you were above them.

That you'll always rise above.

Falco and Gabi have their arms linked together and are swinging in a circle, while Connie tries to horribly swing dance with Armin. Niccolo’s spinning Sasha in circles, holding her flesh against his chest, while Mikasa and Jean - who are most certainly drunk - are excitedly screaming the lyrics in each other’s faces. Pieck and Porco are doing a very weird rendition of the original dance from the music video, while Colt tries desperately to teach them how to do it the right way. 

Your presence silences them all entirely, each of them stopping from their dancing to look up at you wide eyed. But you clear your throat and sing the lyrics of your song - for the first time in years. 

Please take my hand and Please take me dancing, and Please leave me stranded It's so romantic (it's so romantic) (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

You hold your hand out to Mikasa and Falco, who are all too happy to oblige. And scream the lyrics into each other's faces and dance on your feet until your soles hurt. You let Jean spin you and Mikasa in one arm, Connie’s screaming she’s back for a good five minutes, and you’re trying to let it happen. 

To let the light enter the wound. To keep moving forward. 

Eren and Levi pad into the room forty five minutes later, to find you all nestled on the floor, a tangle of limbs, and fast asleep. 

“Levi.” 

“Yes, Eren?” 

“I finally figured it out. The scene we’re missing.” he states. 

--

When you come to, you make it a point to destroy your convenience store. 

You take the lighter and burn that golden piece of paper. And it’s a sweet satisfaction, to see the letters go up in flames. 

Y/N L/N - Triple Threat Commendation. 

Reduced to ashes.

--

next part linked here

an: the emo y/n cannot come to the phone rn!!! she is letting the light in!!! she is about to build a castle out of all of the bricks that were thrown at her!!

(and for those of you worried that y/n has not rocked eren's shit yet, trust. trust. this poor guy getting the scolding of his life but all in good time)

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygff @cocomellxn @princess-ackermann @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

vignette. strawberry candies.

parts: previously / next plot: while at your place, you discover that someone has hurt judith. you turn to the only person who can help. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mostly bruce-centric, fluff, a bit of angst, bruce dealing with kids, mention of guns (no shooting), mentions of alcohol and smoking, bruce will get on this old lady's good side if it kills him. words: 3.2k. a/n: while outlining the next chapter, I thought up a sweet little filler chapter that takes place all in one day before and during the events of chapter 9. warning for the POV change after the first scene.

"Judith, what happened to you?"

The old lady feels your thumb brush the bandage above her eye and closes her fingers around your wrist, dragging it away, "It's nothing. It's nothing."

"Hell if it is," you rush her inside your apartment, shutting the two cops out with a kick to the door. You lead Judith to your couch, sitting her down as you kneel before her. Other than the bandage on her eye, she looks the same except for something small. You've noticed her nervous shakes before, never peculiar, but they were hard to ignore today. They rock in her lap as she keeps them folded, "Did you fall?"

She looks insulted at that, kisses her teeth at you for it. She'd had very few falls in the past, as sturdy and stubborn as a bull. But even as you examine her demeanor, you know it isn't that. Uneasiness sets in your chest. "No, I... I ran into some boys on my way home from church. That's all."

Your uneasiness begins to bubble into wrath, "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, child."

"Judith, I'm serious." Her eyes bore into yours, trying to show herself immovable, but you can feel yourself begin to tremble at the thought that Dimitri might have-

"It was some kids on the corner." She finally relents, looking away from you. "They wanted my purse, that's all."

"The corner where? By the liquor store?" Her eyes cut away from yours, guiltily, "Judith, what were you doing walking that far? You never get off the bus that early."

It was why she started taking the bus in the first place. People lingered on the streets that late, waiting for any easy target to snatch from or snatch up. With the rise in dropheads, people would take whatever money they could get, however they could get it.

The men on the corner usually kept to themselves though, nursing paper bag bottles and hiding out from the rain underneath the overpass. They usually cast a sneer and let you keep on walking if you ever found yourself around their side of town. You'd never gotten close enough for them to want to attack.

Judith frowns, "I missed it. I thought I'd walk."

"What did I tell you about walking home alone? If you have to, you call me, or you call one of the deacons, or a cab-"

"I did call you," Judith snaps, making your blood run cold, "and you didn't answer. So I called again. And then I figured you were busy or working late, so I walked on home. I'm old but I'm not senile."

Your frown deepens, "I didn't mean it that way."

"I even came to your door and you weren't there. So I handled it myself."

"You were right. I was working late." Your fingers brush your pocket where your phone lies dead, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Proud as she is, she doesn't look you in the eye, but you feel some of her anger melt away over time. Her hand finds yours and squeezes it, "It's not your fault. It's mine. I should've known better."

You want to bite your lip until it floods your mouth with blood. You couldn't imagine what might have happened if she'd been hurt worse, left to fend for herself in the dark. If they'd been angry, looking for someone to take it out on, and she'd been in the wrong place...

And Judith with all her pride. You can tell she barely wanted to talk about it, had hoped you might not notice. "Listen, Judith," you begin, feeling her watching you from her peripheral, "I'm not gonna be around for a while. I won't be far, I'll still be in the city, but I won't be... here."

"You're finally getting a real place?"

You laugh, "Sort of. It's temporary. Look, I won't be right here anymore so I need you to take care of yourself. I'll come running if you need me but-"

You're silenced by her two, chilly hands cupping your cheeks in between them. Stern as ever, Judith fixes you with a strong look, "I'll be okay. Don't you worry."

"You sure? I don't wanna have to call the nursing home on you."

One of Judith's hands takes your cheek into a pinch and pulls, hard, "I said I'll be fine." Despite the pain, you smile all lopsided at her and she eventually releases you.

You make her tea, but all the while your eyes keep finding the white gauze above her eye, itching and itching at you until you think you might scratch yourself raw. You couldn't let this one go.

This feels decidedly more sinister, posing on an old lady's fire escape instead of yours. Bruce can see through the lace covering the window that Judith is still up, putting on a pot of tea, and he hesitates in knocking on the glass. He couldn't exactly walk through the front door, and if he came in through the rooftop, he'd risk being seen by neighbors in the hall. This was the only way, and it just might scare the living shit out of this woman.

Gently, he curls his fingers in and knocks.

Judith does not move from the stove. He knocks again, a little louder this time. Still, no reaction. He's seconds from asking you to call Judith to get her attention, looking away for just a second, when his eyes drift back to the window and there she is.

She's got a cast-iron skillet up above her head and the meanest mug he's seen this side of the east coast. It could put Penguin to shame.

They both stare at each other for a while.

When Bruce makes no move to leave, Judith yells through the window, "Go away, demon!"

Bruce had never gotten to know his grandparents on account of them all being dead. There was no old woman at Christmastime to spoil him with gifts and candies, no lovingly crafted wrinkles and sweet smelling perfume to remember a grandmother by. He had never been the type of person to walk old ladies across the street, either. He knew his place.

There was no way to make himself small enough for her to not see as a threat, and so they each watch the other, waiting for them to make a move. He certainly wouldn't be first.

After a good few (painstaking) minutes, she points the pan at the window and asks, "What do you want?"

"A friend sent me."

Her brows furrow, and then an even deeper frown overtakes her face (if that was even possible). "I don't want your help."

"Our friend is worried about you. And worried about anyone else those guys on the corner might hurt."

"Leave or I'll call the police!"

Bruce considers his options. On the one hand, she might call and they might show and think that he'd just scared the woman creeping by her window. He'd get a slap on the wrist and a reminder to take the roofs next time. On the other, he might get a trigger-happy recruit who'd need disarming and a detective who'd need explaining.

He figures he might take his chances with this one, if only to be a true glutton for punishment, "What did it look like?" Her eyes narrow in confusion, "Your purse. What did it look like?"

"I said I don't want your help."

Bruce hides a grumble in his throat. He has half the mind to just leave. He'd take the verbal lashing from you if it meant ending this conversation sooner.

But there would be a million more grumpy old ladies, and he'd be no better at talking to them then. "You used to keep a lighter in there. It was your husband's." Judith stills. Bruce feels himself getting a bit more confident, recalling what you'd told him, "He always kept it on him. I can get it back for you."

She doesn't say anything for a while, still holding her pan at arm's length. He feels a bit silly talking at her through the window, curtains still partially drawn, and he doesn't suppose he looks any cuddlier shrouded in shadow. But all she does is stare at him.

Bruce feels more elated than he expects to when the pan lowers.

"I doubt you'll find it," she starts, and he can almost barely hear the next part through the glass, "it was silver with our initials engraved on it. C and J."

Judith is looking away when she says it. It feels as good a time as any to get going, but he lingers there until she's looking at him before making his escape. He'd like her to know he heard.

It's not hard to find them.

A group of about five men are standing on the corner, all of them just as you'd described. They look inebriated enough to not even stand straight, and Bruce wonders how they'd had the brainpower to handle a woman like Judith just walking by.

Bruce hangs in the shadows, perched on a ledge above them as a train rumbles by above his head. One of the men flicks open a light to light his cigarette, and Bruce's eyes zero in on it. He can't see initials from this far, but its silver glints under the streetlight just so. It's enough to go off on.

Bruce drops from his ledge, catching only one of the men's attention as he lazily turns his head over his shoulder at the sound. He's slow to recognize him, but quick to gather close to his friends on the brick wall, "Fuck!" He shouts, slurring a bit, "Let's get out of here!"

The one furthest from him starts to run, but Bruce's grapple gun wraps around his legs and yanks him onto his back, dragging him further into the alley and closer to him. The others look loyal enough not to run off without him, but their fighting stances are weakened by their stumbling.

"Fuck you man, we didn't do anything." One argues, raised fists wobbling in front of his face.

"Yeah!" The others chime in.

The one held captive at Bruce's feet is whimpering and clawing at the wire digging into his ankles, pulling at it to no avail. Bruce places a boot on his chest and forces him back down, "I hear you've been stealing from old ladies."

"What? No way, man. We don't do that shit."

Bruce digs the heel of his boot into the space between his ribs, feeling him squirm in anguish, "Last night you did. You took her purse. Where is it?"

"I'm telling you, we didn't do that shit. We... we weren't even here last night." The man under his boot is pushing at it, desperate to get away. Bruce has the sinking feeling as he watches him, like a rat with his tail caught in a trap, that he's telling the truth.

"We're not the only ones who hang out on this corner, we swear," one of the bigger members of the group pipes up, looking worried for his friend, "some assholes beat us here yesterday. We hung out by the docks instead. Honest."

Another chimes in, "Yeah. Ask boss inside. He lets us hang all the time. He knows we weren't here last night." He gestures toward the liquor store and Bruce watches them for a moment longer, eyes probing. They had every reason to lie: they were all drunk off their asses, and his reputation preceded him. Even with the five of them, he'd have it handled.

But that sinking feeling comes back.

Bruce gives it a little bit before he finally takes his foot off the man's chest, and he watches him scramble to his feet, running back to his pack. Before they can run to safety, Bruce grabs the one with the lighter and snatches it from his grip, checking the sides. All silver, no initials. He tosses it back with just as much kindness.

"You know who they are?" Bruce asks, holding him by the scruff.

"You gotta promise not to rat boss out," he stutters, looking back at the store, "he knows the guys. One of 'em's his nephew."

A flash of irritation rushes down Bruce's spine. These things were never easy.

Bruce catches the store owner on his smoke break, seconds from lighting a cigarette before he makes himself known. The store owner shrinks back, and before Bruce can even ask, his voice comes out in a tremble, "Where is he?"

Bruce gets the feeling it would be better to say nothing.

When he doesn't answer, the store owner starts to beg, inching closer to him even as his expression contorts in fear, "You didn't hurt him, did you? He's just a kid!"

"Your nephew is the one hurting people."

The owner winces, but doesn't refute it. "Please tell me you didn't hurt him."

"Not yet," Bruce sidesteps the man, circling him in the low light, "and I won't if he stops robbing old ladies."

"He'll stop. I promise. I'll handle it."

"You knew what he was doing and you didn't stop him before."

"I... I've tried, okay? He doesn't listen-"

Bruce grabs the man's shirt and shoves into the side of a dumpster, the sound reverberating through the near-midnight air as he stares down at him. His name tag reads "Brian", and the sweat that slicks his brow is starting to coat the collar of his shirt. "Where is he now?"

A click sounds from behind his head. Bruce doesn't turn at first, but he already knows what's pointing at him from behind.

There's a kid there, no older than 17, holding a gun to the back of Bruce's head. He trembles like his uncle, "Let him go."

Being held at gunpoint doesn't get any less frightening, even if it happens to you every night.

There's still this primal urge clawing under Bruce's skin to duck and hide, something he shakes off the second he grabs the gun and forces it out of the kid's hand. The thing clatters to the ground and he kicks it away not a moment later, taking the teenager and shoving him into his uncle's arms. Bruce almost feels sick at the scared look on his face. As if he hadn't been the one about to pull the trigger.

Bruce leans down to pick up the gun and goes to unload the chamber, but there's nothing. His gaze coasts back up to the kid's and he feels his stomach churn at the sight, the thought. This kid had seen Bruce and still thought, even if it was a long shot...

Bruce holds the thing by the barrel, "You know how to use that thing?"

"Yes!" But Bruce doesn't believe him.

"Not loaded, but it's enough to scare old ladies, isn't it?"

The kid forces himself to look tough and mean, falling flat to Bruce regardless, "How the fuck would you know?"

"Her purse. Where is it?"

"What? What are you talking-"

"If you don't have it, your friends do. Do you want me to look for them too?"

A flash of fear. The kid hardens his expression but he's too late, "There wasn't even anything in it."

Bruce glances at Brian. He hasn't taken his eyes off him. He looks as if he'll jump between any blow he might throw at the kid. His eyes glide back to the kid's and he forces his voice to soften, "There was a lighter in it. Engraved. She wants it back."

Recognition replaces the fear. The kid is hesitant to move or say anything at first, but when his uncle places a hand on his shoulder, it's enough to push him forward. He swallows down his pride for just a moment, "It's in the store. Upstairs in my room. I... we spent the cash already but all the other stuff's in there."

Bruce stares at him, and without another word, the kid runs back into the store. Bruce listens for the sound of feet pounding against the staircase to make sure he wouldn't try to book it, but he returns just as quickly as he'd left, shoving the purse into Bruce's hands as if he couldn't wait to be rid of it.

A quick ruffle around in it reveals the lighter and a pocket Bible, among strawberry candies and pens. True to his word, the wallet looks and feels empty.

He wants to leave it at that.

But one more look at the kid and Brian and he's shoving the empty gun into Brian's chest, gritting through his teeth, "You clearly love him. Don't let him do something he'll regret."

Brian goes rigid. Fixes his jaw tight. He says nothing in response, but it's enough.

He'd meant to leave it at the window, but Bruce is surprised to find Judith still awake in her recliner, fingers twiddling with another copy of the Bible. No wonder she only mentioned the lighter.

Bruce knocks and Judith does jump this time, genuinely surprised. He holds the purse up and she moves as quickly as she can, prying open the window a crack. Just enough for him to slip it in.

He's careful as he slides it through and she snatches it from his grasp, digging through it until her fingers grasp the lighter. Bruce takes advantage of the opening to speak to her, quieter this time, "The cash is gone, but they didn't touch anything else."

She says nothing. She holds the lighter in her hands and it shakes, her lip trembling just so. Bruce feels his chest swell with nervous feeling. Three years of this and he was as if a novice all over again.

He's about to leave when he feels a hand tugging on the bottom of his cape and when he turns, he sees the window propped wide open and Judith's hand fixed into the material of it. She isn't crying but she's misty-eyed, holding onto him with all her strength. He forces himself still. He awaits a "thank you" or even a firm nod of approval, but in her other hand, she holds out a candy. One of the strawberry candies. His brows furrow. He can't make out where it's from, but he knows he can't refuse.

He plucks the candy from her palm and tucks it into his utility belt. Judith releases him, saying nothing more, but as he begins his descent down the fire escape, he feels her eyes watch him all the way down.

You stare at the candy in wonder, eyes twinkling. Bruce cannot understand why you're so excited, "This familiar to you?"

"You've been given the Judith seal of approval, just one step down from getting invited over for tea." Bruce frowns. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've never had one of these before. Everyone's grandma has 'em."

"I didn't know my grandmother."

Your eyes soften, chuckling nervously, "Ah, well. To be fair, your grandmother was in another tax bracket. She probably would've given you... I don't know, gold-flaked truffles."

Bruce narrows his eyes at you, though a smile creeps up not far behind, "Colorful imagination. Is that what you want for dessert tomorrow night?"

"Don't you fucking dare."

[chevelleneech]

Ody3 revolving around Tristan, not Avery…?

I cannot explain how desperately I need the Doctor Odyssey love triangle to throuple to be have been presented as Max and Tristan fighting over Avery, leading to a threesome, only to ultimately end up as Max and Avery realizing they don’t work without Tristan.

Not that I want him to be an after thought, but right now things are sort of framed as Tristan getting a taste of what he’s wanted after all these years, as well as Max and Avery falling into each other really early on insinuating they’re meant to be.

So I want to see them trying to figure things out, which includes a misunderstanding of all feelings involved, leading to Tristan walking away thinking Max and Avery are better suited as a couple, and them believing Tristan saying he just wanted sex from them. Thus they convince themselves a throuple was never an option, only for their relationship to start stumbling, because without the thought of Tristan bounding around the corner or leaping between them in bed unannounced… it’s not the same. Their spark isn’t there, because even just the thought of, “How/when are we going to tell Tristan?” gave them that extra bite.

Because Max is the life-worn one who is a bit more methodical, yet is naturally curious, while Avery is quite cynical and likes to know where she’s headed. Tristan, however, for as serious and rude as he can be, is the rebellious burst of light both of them are clearly drawn to.

So while I know a traditional love triangle or even throuples tends to be because the woman nabbed the hearts of both men, which is what happened with Ody3, I just really really want it to give a little twist. Center the character who is obviously insecure in his place with both of them, and who so clearly wants both of their approval. Tristan wants Avery and Max, they wrote it so blatantly, but he doesn’t (didn’t) know he wants Max too, because his focus was on the fact that Max showed up and managed to get Avery right away.

Having the pairing that instantly clicked, realize they need that third person would so good. It would also add to the beauty of how and why Tristan and Avery not even so much as hooking prior to meeting Max made sense, because they needed their third person. It would also mean none of the duos work without their third, which I don’t think has ever happened on network tv. A throuple that works as a throuple, because coupling them off simply doesn’t.

Lastly, I stand by the fact that their cast chemistry was intentional. No way they wrote Ody3 this questionably on paper, and cast three actors who sizzle on screen together, yet nothing is meant to come of it. A throuple is the only thing that makes sense, regardless of my wish for the above.

[macabr3-barbi3]

Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself. 

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers. 

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested. 

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along. 

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

 “Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive. 

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt-  perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking. 

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.” 

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist. 

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being. 

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,”  you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it. 

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

[officialabortive]

Fostering wolfdog!Bakugou would lead do premature greys, methinks.

Bakugou's only here in the first place because he was found incapacitated with his head wound up in a snare wire. Even after treatment he couldn't be released back to the wild due to the increasing number of hybrid poachers. The vet recommended a good fostering program, the one you happened to be volunteering at.

He's in no way domestic and will bite at the hand who feeds him. Literally.

You were told to keep the muzzle on him, not that you'd be able to get close enough to remove it in the first place. It's cold metal bars are clearly irritating to have on his face all day, but there can't be any risk of bites before he's gotten all his shots.

Having grown among grass and soil, bakugou finds the things In your house incredibly intriguing. He spent over an hour opening and closing a closet door, just trying to figure out how it works. The concept of a light switch looked to be exceptionally fascinating. Their's no way of knowing what's going on in his head but with the way he went room to room investigating each light that bewildered look said all. This big pup probably thinks you're holding little peices of the sun captive. You can tell he is obviously seeing spots from staring directly at them for so long when he starts bumping into things. One can only hope his vision hasn't been impaired.

Just as any wild animal would, bakugou likes to... mark his territory...

Unfortunately for you, the place the hybrid deemed best to be "his" is none other then your bedroom. The room that holds most of your day to day essentials. The room that is now inaccessible due to the growing beast atop your his bed. Even with the muzzle restricting his attacks, those claws —even though clipped by the vet— could separate flesh from bone. That's not a risk worth taking for the sake of a change of clothes. Your only option was to wear the laundry on top of the washing machine that you'd been to lazy to fold and put away.