#i can't even say it with a straight face • ooc

[lcfthaunted]

-hollers- WHO WANTS KISSES FROM MAZIE

[sonolynn]

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

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“Why don’t you marry her then?” 

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped. 

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him. 

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night. 

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected. 

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature. 

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out. 

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond. 

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her. 

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?” 

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection. 

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her. 

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her. 

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild. 

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers. 

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something. 

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip. 

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead. 

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms. 

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her. 

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen. 

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly. 

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips. 

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side. 

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but.. 

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper. 

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.” 

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep. 

____________________________________________

Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips. 

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward. 

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else. 

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less. 

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock. 

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain. 

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his. 

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys. 

____________________________________________

The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing. 

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond. 

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys. 

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much. 

At least, not after last night. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body. 

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name. 

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled. 

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.” 

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs. 

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-” 

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?” 

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.” 

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her. 

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble. 

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did). 

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.” 

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance. 

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-” 

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued. 

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.” 

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper. 

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned. 

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle. 

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts. 

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop. 

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress. 

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good. 

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her. 

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one. 

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her. 

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..” 

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.” 

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name. 

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her. 

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her. 

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached. 

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her. 

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself. 

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

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[shaisuki]

MY HEART IN YOUR HANDS

a night of his love bore a result. one that you can't escape from. you were still determined to let go of him and put him the story and happiness he deserves even you'll be left with nothing but a body with a shattered heart — Zayne is a another story. He's not willing to let you go when he's already in too deep.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── notes. inbox is open for any inquiries and requests that are related to this trilogy. thank you all for the support and the comments that made the sequels possible. i do apologize that it is rushed and all.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── taglist. @sillyfreakfanparty @chersyluvs @inzanekillian @regalillegal @quillsanddaggers @hebreeee @hi-itsmee @lupitalover @animegamerfox @xaakilove @iluvzayne @dstrctaya @roschea-arts @simpingpandas @auraficial @sill33witheen @popejar @skyline-night @aboobie @youraveragereaders @ssetsuka @nothoughts-justzayne

❆ ₊⋆ ──── content warnings. angst + yandere themes + implied noncon/dubcon + babytrapping + emotional manipulation + pregnancy + ooc zayne + possessiveness + brief descriptions of birth + insecurities + grammatical/typo errors.

READ PART ONE. PART TWO

It's probably a stomach bug or you overate which you always did when you're stressed.

That's what you said to yourself after breakfast when you came running to the nearest sink and hurling the contents of your stomach. The first purge came violently and the bits of your breakfast that wasn't digested by your stomach acid splatters on the pristine white sink of his kitchen.

Zayne rushes to your side. His white coat abandoned in the back of his chair and his sleeves are still rolled up while drawing circles in your back. You coughed up a bit, stealing a glance to him and your throat tightens and your stomach lurches forward. Another wave of nausea hits you.

The sound of the faucet being turned on registers in your brain and you watch as the once contents of your stomach slowly disappears and be washed away in the drain.

Concern was etched on his face. He takes a wash cloth, running it under the cold water flowing from the faucet, giving it a squeeze to wring out the excess water before bringing it to wipe the corners of your lips. His hand holding your jaw while he moves it to inspect your face.

After cleaning your mouth, he asks you a question. “We should go to the hospital.” He calmly says but there's a hint of tenderness in there.

“No. It's not necessary.” Straight out refusing him. It's just nausea, typical. There's several reasons for that but Zayne is quick to refute you. One of the cons of being with a doctor.

“It is needed. Clammy hands, elevated pulse and coldness, it could be a underlying symptoms of an illness. It's better to be sure. Your health should not be overlooked.”

Period. He didn't gave you any chance to refuse him again. He came with you all the way to the hospital and got you settled on one of the private rooms. Not the clinic for walk-in checkups or consultations.

You were kind of glad for the coldness of Zayne's hand while it massage the flesh of your arm. Personally taking your vital signs and doing the blood works while a nurse waits for his instructions. He taps your skin before sticking the end of the needle.

“You will feel a pinch.” He warns, it's not like you needed it. You survived in a fatal car crash and was prodded and wired to different machines.

Blood fills the syringe and he takes it out before putting it on a tray. “I need to get this done as soon as possible.” He orders and the nurse nods at him. Taking the needed information about you and rushes outside. Clearly, they were intimidated by Zayne and whatever he said is the unwritten rule in the book.

“You don't have to pause your work for me.” You surmised, resisting the urge to peel the band aid in your arm where he stuck the needle earlier to draw your blood.

“It isn't ideal but it won't hurt anyone for me to accompany you. Considering you're my patient and future wife. ” He affectionately pets your head. Pulling the chair besides your bed where you sat at. He sits right in front of you.

You ignore the last sentence. It doesn't ease your mind when Zayne is being overly affectionate to you like a housecat when it's near feeding time. Always watching, always close. He takes your hands in his. Marveling the smoothness of your own to his own scarred ones.

“It's going to be fine. Treat it like a another check up. We're only here to make sure you're fine.” His voice calm and assuring. Noticing the small tick when you're worried.

It didn't take long for your tests to come back. It wasn't a nurse who appeared but a another doctor. A woman wearing the same white coat similar to Zayne's, their identification card clipped in the left breast pocket of their uniforms.

Opposite to Zayne's stoic expression, she's bubbly for some reason. “Dr. Zayne.” She greeted the cardiac surgeon. A holographic screen appeared in front of her and with a smile that she fails to keep in doing so, she began to speak.

A sense of foreboding washes over you. You bit your lower lip unconsciously.

“There's no irregularities in the result of her blood tests, Dr. Zayne.” Her sight darting over you and Zayne. She glances back at the screen. “Although, the count of her red blood cells are lower and the white blood cells are higher than normal which is expected since hCG are detected in her blood.”

You didn't like where this is going.

“Congratulations, Dr. Zayne. She's pregnant.” She cheerily announces like it was a privilege to find out the most sought and talented cardiac surgeon is about to be a father.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the sudden revelation. You raise your head to look at Zayne. The other doctor left to give you both privacy at the sudden news. Is that mirth on his eyes? It faded before looking at you but nonetheless it is present. His expression lax.

The memories of what transpired that night sent chills to your spine. You desperately wanted to forget that night but the ache in your body throbs and the hickey he left in your neck stings. You didn't know Zayne was capable of doing that.

“Zayne....” Your voice trails off as you call him. “Is it not to early for me to be pregnant?” Disbelief follows your every word. You meet his gaze. Begging for him to say the truth, that it was only a lie, a fluke, a mistake.

He wraps his arm around you. Your head on his chest and your world crashes when he spoke those words. “Blood results doesn't lie. It's more accurate than any other tests.” He explains. “I am glad that you are fine.” He says with such familiarity, voice gentle and warm. It was much tender than what he used when telling a patient of good news.

There's a flicker of revelry on his eyes as his gaze fixated on the windows before looking down at you.

“You're only pregnant.” He whispers. “It was bound to happen.” His hold on you firm. He presses a kiss at the top of your head. “Don't be so afraid.”

His hazel green eyes darkens as he said those words. “You won't be alone, I'll be by your side — just like I promised.” He murmurs. His arms secured around you, sensing that you're about to pull away.

It didn't bring you the assurance or the words you wanted to hear. Your fingers tightens around the crisp coat of his. Enclosed by your fists, you didn't care if it got wrinkled. All you can think is how you're going to raise a child. Your child with him.

“My parents are back.”

Zayne tells you to get a reaction from you while he loosens his tie. He just got home from overtime at the hospital. A traffic incident got him stuck. He expected that you're already asleep considering your condition but you were wide awake. Poring over the pages of your book.

He sees the furrow of your eyebrows from the reflection of the mirror on the wall. “Is it too soon for them to be back?’ Your voice were flat but for the sake of conversation you try to carry. Zayne ignored the tone of your voice. “The conference ended early.”

He takes off his watch and pulls the drawer to put it. Zayne turns around to see you flipping pages of the book. You didn't even glanced at him. Keeping your response clipped and only mmm's and yeah's. You didn't take the news of your pregnancy well.

It was sudden of course, it only happened that night and weeks later, you are with his child. Considering he monitored all your cycles and since you were under his care, there's a little bit of change in your diet. Foods that are nutritious and rich in boosting your chances of fertility. You didn't suspect a thing.

The night when it happened, he got swept away. Strongly feeling those emotions that he wasn't aware of and he snapped when you said those dreadful words. Why would you leave him now? Don't you love him anymore? He only made his point that night despite your tearful protests that breaks his heart.

He feels a bit guilty about it but was soon relieved. It was necessary. You're not going to leave him, not when you're carrying his child and it would be a shame to your family and there's the risk of you getting shunned. Affluent families doesn't take shame lightly. It was losing face and the honor that was built from time to time. He knows your parents won't agree.

It only happened once — you argued to him. After the test results came back all positive for your pregnancy. He easily downplayed it as normal and you were both a couple. Engaged and waiting to be married. A good time for the upcoming union but your tears told another story. You wanted to leave him and he used the oldest trick in the book. Impregnate your stubborn soon-to-be wife. It worked quite well. Side effect? Your fiancée won't take it lightly and will give you the cold shoulder. Fine by him.

He won't let you go that easy.

He keeps a firm grip on your hand as you both walked in the familiar hallways of the posh restaurant. It was traditional and had lasted through the years despite the frequent Wanderers wrecking havoc in the area. Following the maître d' in where the private room with both of your parents are waiting.

This happened a few times. It was usually you would walk behind him. Almost tripping — trying to catch up his long strides. He never bothered to look behind nor waited for you. Deja vu was the thing you hated. Forcing you to replay all the wasted efforts you put. A reminder that you were always overlooked, ignored. This time you weren't. Walking side to side with his hand intertwined to yours.

Birthdays, graduations and the milestones in one's life are always celebrated here in this very restaurant. Yours and his. It's the little things in life, Zayne's mother would say. It's also the way where Zayne, her son to make him come. Even when he's busy with his studies, he would come. Always the dutiful son that respects his mother's wishes.

On those times, he keeps the facade that you two were both fine. Not realizing that their children in front of their parents are strangers. A relationship strained that it makes family dinners unbearable. You and Zayne both perfected that. Keeping up with appearances.

The room was spacious. A huge crystal chandelier dangling on the ceiling. The light reminiscent of a candles burning in the night, creating a more subdued lightning but still provides the warmth and comfort of the area. It reflects on the cream colored curtains. Glinting on the silver cutleries.

“Here they are.” Is the first voice you recognized upon entering the private room. Your father's voice. Boisterous and good natured just the way you remembered it.

The maître d' politely bowed before leaving the room.

“Finally.” Another voice pipes up and it was Zayne's mother. You can see the slight crinkles on the side of her face. A total opposite of Zayne who keeps the same stoic look on his face.

“My apologies. There's a bit of traffic on our way here. Thank you for waiting on us.” Zayne apologetically nods his head. Light catching on his glasses.

You subtly pried his hand on your plush waist before going to greet your parents while Zayne's parents fuss over him.

“It's been so long, (Y/N). I hope you're faring well.” Your father says before you hug him. “I am.” You lied through your teeth but masked it as something warm to assure your father. You glance at your mother. Stiffly greeting her. The same cold hard stare that scared you and prevented you from bonding with her. You didn't blame her though. She was scared when she almost died giving birth to you. Thanks to Zayne's parents that she was spared from the fate.

“Mother.” Is the only word you can call her but nonetheless, she kisses your cheek. The little bit of affection she can spare to you. Maybe, it's also the reason why you settle for the tiniest of form of affections that were given to you that you're easily contented by it.

The other woman, Zayne's mother approaches you with warm eyes. You can see the lines on her face. A testament that she lived her life on her profession. You adored this woman like she was your own mother. “(Y/N), darling.” She presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“You look lovely as always, my dear.” Zayne's mother compliments you. Squeezing the flab of your arm which you didn't mind. “Is my son treating you well?” She whispers discreetly which isn't so discreet since she glances at his son who was talking to your parents. Her eyes wandering all over you and you failed to notice it. She knows.

“Zayne's treating me well.” You repeat her words. Assuring her that her son was nothing but the best towards you. It earned you a kind smile from her.

It wasn't far from the truth but Zayne was nothing like the man you knew since childhood and before the accident. You were used to his indifference but this was the another side you wished you didn't knew. All it took for you was to almost die.

The lines of her face became more prominent as she held your hand. “I can see that and you're doing the same to my son. I've never seen him so tender — devoted.” She smiles a little wider. The kind of smile knowing her child is somewhat happy in a place. “You know how my son is, always a little hard on himself. You've brought the best of him, my dear child.”

The worst. You wanted to correct her but looking at her kind, warm eyes. That looked out after you since you were a kid — you can't bring yourself to the truth. You've brought out the worst in her son.

“I hope so.” You murmured. Lowering your gaze.

You couldn't meet her eyes while telling a lie.

Zayne was putting pieces of different dishes in your plate. Keeping a sharp eye on the sudden change since you started your cravings and you have gotten quite sensitive to certain smells. A frown quirked in your lips meant you didn't like the food. A thin line meant it was okay and the twinkle in your eyes is what you desired at the moment but you will still refuse it with a pout.

He also noticed how you occasionally glare at him. Not hiding your frustrations at him but keeping it subtle not enough to raise suspicions for the elders in the table to pick up your sour mood directed to him.

There's the sound of ice clinking in the glass and a thud. Your father suddenly putting the glass in the table before a chortle left his lips. Highly amused at the scene in front of him.

“Old habits don't die, huh? You're always making sure she's well fed. I'm glad to know you're still taking care of her.” Your father said amused.

“It's the least I can do for her.” Zayne murmured after placing a chunk of the juiciest part of the meat to your plate. He made sure you take a bite out of it.

Another voice joins in and it was Zayne's father. “Ever since they were children, Zayne always keeps an eye on her and that's the time I knew he'll always look after her. My son here always earning brownie points to impress her.”

Funny how the adults see it. That was lie but also half of the truth. The brownie points was after the accident. It was suffocating now. You glanced at him and he still sports the same stoic look on his face.

“So Zayne...” His mother began to speak, her voice serious but there's a hint of warmth on it. “It's rather unusual for you to call us. Is something the matter we need to discuss?” She looks knowingly at the both of you, her stare a little longer on you before looking at Zayne.

The cardiac surgeon that is her son looks at you. His face hidden by the curtain of his bangs. “Yes.” He paused.

Reaching out for your hand and linking to his. The table grew silent including your parents and his. Suddenly aware of the seriousness in his voice. Anticipating for the news that is about to be revealed. The look on his eyes were warm when you stare at him.

“(Y/N) and I are expecting.”

Your heart dropped at his announcement. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears from how fast it was beating. The familiar sensation of bile rising up in your throat surfaces but you tried to contain it.

Of course, he was going tell your parents and his about this pregnancy. This wasn't just a family dinner. He planned it. His parents back in town, knowing their conference was still ongoing abroad. Yours was easy to convince. They were much easier to involve and they trust Zayne more than anyone else in the world.

Zayne's mother is the first to erupt in cheers. “Finally.” She claps her hand in astonishment. You wanted to deny it but you feel bad, not when they are all expecting a grandchild from the both of you. The union will bore the result in no time but there's no wedding have occured, yet.

Before the accident you decided that you were going to discuss this with Zayne. Call of the engagement and you will both proceed in your life without attachments and pretend this awful engagement for the both of you never existed but it was impossible now. You're pregnant. A outcome of that night you badly wanted to forget.

Just when they're still reeling from the surprise that you were with child. It didn't stop Zayne from proposing again, something that you badly wanted to be free from.

“I understand the seriousness of the situation that comes with (Y/N)'s pregnancy since it was unexpected. Considering that it already happened. Will you allow us to marry as soon as possible before our baby is born?” His tone never faltered at those words. It was like reading from a script that he already prepared for. He was sincere and all.

Your body stiffens. Discomfort being etched to your face. “Did we? Isn't this too soon? I was hoping maybe after the baby comes.” You denied. There was no discussion of it or anything at all. You looked at your soon-to-be in-laws hoping they will disagree at the sudden wedding just because you're pregnant. You look at your parents for help too but you were quickly denied.

You tried to pry your fingers from Zayne's hand discreetly but he squeezes it. A warning. “The time's right, (Y/N). The engagement has been so long and it's a perfect timing before the birth of our grandchild. We were all worried that you two aren't planning at all” Your father commented. A bit concerned at your behavior. Your mother remained quiet. Zayne's parents agreed with your father.

“You don't have to worry a thing. Zayne's good for you. He's a good man.” Your father added. It's the start of every misery when it comes to arranged marriages.

“I apologize for springing this up. (Y/N)'s a bit shaken up since it was — we recently known that she's pregnant.” The pad of his thumb grazes your knuckles. His voice apologetic and remorseful enough to convince your parents and his. You really don't know him anymore.

“Oh darling. We understand. It's fine to feel that way. Trust me, everything's going to be overwhelming starting from now but it will be a breeze after you and Zayne are married.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line. Feigning to consider the implication. You glance at Zayne who's been quiet while his mother gently assures you that being married to her son will be the best choice for yourself and for the baby.

Your father must have sensed your hesitation. He reached for your hands. Holding it to his own wrinkled ones.

“I know marriage is not easy as it can be. Take me and your mother but we worked it out. I trust Zayne with all of my heart.” Your father takes your hand in his. “When we received the news of your accident, my heart couldn't take it. My little girl is hurt. Alone and scared without her father and when I knew Zayne was with you. I have never felt so relieved. Someone is looking after my little girl.”

His voice warm and you see your father, your old man — a little bit younger than his age. Like he was at peace that he knew that his precious daughter is in the right hands. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You did love your father but your relationship with Zayne was the cause of your current misery.

“The baby...” He clears his throat. “My grandchild, consider it as a blessing to you (Y/N). After that inevitable accident and nearly losing your life. Consider it as a second chance to your life with Zayne.”

It was easy for him to say that but could you blame him? He didn't know. You wanted to shake your head in denial. The baby was no blessing. Zayne had put his baby in your womb as a punishment for wanting to leave him.

Everything was a blur to you. Worked it out? Your mother hated you. She can only spare you a bit of her affection. You desperately wanted to reach out to your father. Hoping that he'll listen to your plea but he had entrusted your life with Zayne cause no other man was enough to be with you. Zayne was the perfect husband that every parents wants for their daughters.

The dinner ended after they started discussing about the upcoming wedding. Zayne had excused you both with the reason that you need to rest early. Well wishes were made and Zayne's parents have decided to stay until the wedding.

The excitement was thick that even looking at them made you gag. There wasn't no malice on there cause it was for a good union that both families will be tied just like they wanted. It doesn't settle right with you.

They kept talking. How happy they were for there children being in love and the new addition of the family that will come in the next seven months. Hell, you didn't even knew you were pregnant and Zayne have known it before the tests. Simply because he knows you more than your own.

Uncertainty washes over you. This is not what you wanted. You were ready to walk away from all of this. Be shunned and be a disgrace to your own family. It will hurt but it was better than to be with him. Realizing that the Zayne you always wanted will never be him. There's always the shadow of doubt but alas circumstances changed that. He made it clear.

A gentle melody of the music being played in the radio fills the silence that is engulfing the both of you inside his car. You pressed your palm unconsciously to your stomach. It was still the seventh week of your pregnancy and there wasn't still a bump. The baby the size of a poppy seed sticking to your womb and doubted a baby bump will be prominent considering the natural roundness of your belly pouch. Well as normal people can see it, you're already pregnant.

“You've been quiet for awhile now. Do you want to talk?” He sees you rubbing your stomach. “No.” You answered him before pushing the button besides your seat. The seat reclines before you curled up. Ignoring him while he smoothly manipulates the steering wheel.

You continued to ignore him until you reached his house.

The heaviness of the air lays thick spreading in every corner that it was suffocating. Like the clouds bringing a storm.

“What were you thinking?” The silence of his house settled into you. Breaking it with a shout. The words slipped from your mouth. Your eyes blinks rapidly. There's a rattle of the chains from your sling bag as it hits the cold floor.

“What were you thinking, Zayne!?” You repeated. Your voice a little higher cause you never knew how to scream but someday you'll learn and maybe it was tonight.

Looking at that man who was once so dear to you. The man who you desperately wanted.

“Why would you do this to me? You didn't even want to be married — not to me, at least.” Your fist collided in his chest but he didn't budge. He welcomed it. He welcomed all the anger, the frustration.

“It is needed to be done.” He says without hesitation. A cold hard truth and you hated him for being true and honest with his intentions and feelings.

“Done?” You repeated the word as if your hearing had failed you and you turned deaf.

“How could you!?” You momentarily paused. Your voice quivered as you continued. “I gave you a chance. I was ready to walk away. I-I was prepared to leave anything behind cause I will never be yours. I will never be what you want. I will never be her.” A tear slipped from your eyes. Your body felt cold.

It was the truth. The cold hard truth. You gave up. How could you compete for a woman that holds his heart — his soul. That looking at him will ever remind you of her. That you will always be second. Part of you wished that you should have died that night.

The sight of your glassy eyes, burning with anger and frustration and hurt made his heart clench. It pained him to see you like this. Hurting over for the other woman. Yes, he admits it. He once loved her. Clinged to her existence cause it was the time that he felt that they belonged to each other until he realizes it was only an illusion. A sense of familiarity.

But what bothered him the most is your words. Leave him? Gave him a chance to walk away from this? From you? Why would you say that when you're already with his child. When all he did was take care of you?

He kept silent. His sight flickering between your teary eyes and the belly straining in your sundress. He lets you say it. Scream all your frustrations at him. You were in a delicate situation and he's letting you feel all of it but it doesn't mean he doesn't care. It's better to let it all out than harm you and the life growing inside you.

“I tried so hard for you. I learned things that I know would impress you. I learned how to bake. How to keep it shut. How not to annoy you. It didn't matter. You kept choosing her over me and now you want me? Decide for me? You're guilty. You're fucking guilty!” You screamed at him. Taking a breather because you didn't trust your voice no more.

“That's what you're feeling. You didn't love me! I smiled despite being hurt by you cause I know my place.” A violent sob racked through your body. You shoved him. Putting all the force of your anger and anguish in your hands. You want to hurt him so bad.

“You decided for me. You got me pregnant and you suddenly announced to my parents and yours that I'm pregnant. I — I — I hate you very much! I wished I died that night! I—”

I wished I died that night. Your words bouncing right back and forth in his mind. It rings on his head. The events that happened that night keeps replaying. Bleeding and unconscious. Barely breathing. You wished you died that night and what? Leave him alone in this world?

A frayed rope that was barely holding his emotions snaps, the ends wriggle — too late to realize what just happened.

Then his voice boomed. Akin to a crackle of thunder that shocks your insides that made you shut up. Staring at him wide eyed. The tears continued to spill.

“Enough!” He caught your wrists. Gently wrapped on his cold palms. “Don't you say that words again.” His voice back to the same composed ones. He pulls you closer to his. The scent of his seeping to yours and this is the times where you think Zayne can be warm too.

“Don't you say that words again. I will never let it happen to you again. Don't you ever say that!” He cups your cheeks. There's a slight tremor in his arms before composing himself.

The tears stopped and your anguish was replaced by confusion like you can't believe his words.

“Hate me.” He whispers. “Resent me. Hurt me.” He tenderly brushes the apple of your cheek. “Let me suffer with your hatred but I won't leave you. You are mine. And I will be with you for the madness you have to offer for me. I will take it — accept it — but don't you ever say those words again.” He says softly but there's the firmness to it. Making himself clear.

“You're mad.” Your voice came out unsteady. Disbelief painted in your face.

“Yes, I'm mad. If hatred is the only thing you will have for me in the long run. I will desire it as I desire you because you are mine.” His gaze locked into you. Clouded with darkness or simply madness.

A stray tear trickled down your cheek. Glistening in the trail of path of your still tear-stained cheek. He wipes it with his thumb. His gaze flickering between your eyes and lips.

“What happened to you? You're not the Zayne I knew.” Blinking slowly as try to clear your vision blurred by your unshed tears.

Is he for real? Or you got transferred to another reality where this version of Zayne madly desires you. Sees you for who you are.

There's only the sound of the breathing in each other's mouth. You can't process how to move or how to feel when he's holding you like this. None of you speak. Locked in each other's gazes. You were about to detach yourself from his hold and without a flicker nor a beat — he kisses you without a warning. The kiss that leaves you helpless.

It started out as soft. A tender kiss. The very first kiss you bestow when you didn't see each other for so long then the kiss turned out something as nothing but rough.

Feverish as his lips connected to yours. Pouring all those words that he can't speak of. That even the most sensible of man can be this emotional. Brought by the madness and the intensity of his feelings caused by this woman. His heart beating rapidly in his chest like a bird flapping it's wings wanting to be free.

He holds you close. Closer than he can ever hold. Afraid that if he lets you go — or loosen his grip you'll disappear. Forever lost.

His hand moves from the one holding your cheek to the back of your head and the other descending in the small of your back. Pulling you closer and deepening the kiss that you once lost to.

It was messy. The kind of kiss that all tongues. Dragging into each other. Tangled in desperation that air wasn't even a necessity.

You grip the lapels of his coat. It's the only thing you can hold unto while he keeps you caged in his arms. Leaving you no room to escape from his iron grip.

You were a marionette on his own strings but even he controlled your movements. You can't shut the thoughts running on your own mind.

Zayne's lips were warm on yours. You expected it to be cold but it was devoid of coldness but only the gentle warmth. It tastes like regret and sweet. Bittersweet you describe it.

He's kissing you. Pouring all the feelings he can't say to you and you thought of her. Does Zayne thinks of her while kissing you like this. Imagining it was her on his arms and not some fucked up, insecure woman who begs for attention that no one notices but only when she bleeds.

Still, you kissed him back.

He's not the only one who can kiss you like this. You kiss him while tears pours from your eyes. You didn't stop. You both didn't stop. Chasing each other's lips and tangling each other's tongues. Tasting each other's breath. You're a mess. A fuck up who enjoys being kissed by a man you love who loves another woman.

You dreamt what it was like to be kissed by him. It was sort of granted but it wasn't on your own terms. It was rough. The first night and the first time he kissed you. It was ugly as it can be but still it was a kiss. One that you yearned for a long time. If he wants the hatred you can give to him — then he's sure he will accept all the resentment you have to offer.

It was this kiss he craves — needed. The bitter taste of your regret but there's sweetness above it. Honest and raw that you loved him all this time and you were willing to throw whatever bit of your sanity left for this.

It was addicting. How the fullness of your lips molds into his. The scent of you driving him insane and the feel of your plush body pressed on him. He feels your pulse quicken under his touch. Knows that your heart beats for him and only him.

It's wrong but it feels so right. He couldn't think of her. Not like this. When it's your lips on his. Your touch burning on his skin. Electrifying. Maddening. He will accept this. Learn to embrace it. And when he's in too deep, he couldn't think of her but only you. In his arms. Trembling under his touch while you cried.

Suddenly, the coldness of that lingered on his body melted. Replacing with the burning feeling of your skin. Melting like snowflakes.

The taste of salt in your tears made it addicting. Like the sweets he's fond — tasting the hint of something that shouldn't be there but it's always right. Meant to be there. Everything's balanced. Everything's feels right when it's your lips on his. When it's you who consumed his thoughts.

He will freeze hell for you.

Looking at your glassy eyes and the spit stained lips mix with yours and his. He wipes your tears again. Pressing his forehead to yours and the silence engulfs the both of you with the exception of the gasps taking air again after the kiss.

“You're going to hurt us both, Zayne.” Your voice shaky and pleading.

“Yes, but what is pain when my love for you can endure everything. A love without pain shall not last. And my love for you will be eternal.” He declares without hesitation. That it is the truth and will only be the truth.

Your eyes widens at the depth of the darkness of his words.

“I'll fix us both. I will do everything in my power — whatever it takes. You're not going to leave me and I won't leave you.” His hand holding your cheek descends to your round belly. “Not when our child is growing inside you. Not when you're mine.”

He kisses your forehead with all the love and promise. For a future with you.

That night something broke. A bond that was long forged from ice and a frozen promise. A vow destroyed when his own blood and flesh sprouted inside you. And just like that, he broke the fate of his with a twist of his devotion for the woman in his arms.

The chapel is something out from a dream. A job well done for a kind of rushed wedding. You can see the vibrant hues of wisteria draping over the gables of the chapel. A willow tree in the distance. The air is cool and buds of the flowers are slowly blooming as they sprouted from the damp earth. There's a burst of rain earlier leaving the scent of the soil and the cool breeze gently caressing your skin. It's the weather you want for a wedding. A auspicious day to be married.

Your family insisted per Zayne's flawless convincing, you weren't sure if it was even one. It was the truth coming from him and it was better this way since you're still in the early stages of your pregnancy. Both of your families agreed without a fuss and the wedding day came.

You found yourself behind the wooden doors of the chapel that remains timeless as the years gone by and you can tell that it was maintained. You tried to look up straight ahead as you hear the faint music began to play. The instrumental version of your favorite song from a movie. The doors opened and you think to yourself — it is now or never — or maybe you can run away from this. Save yourself from another heartbreak and disappointments.

You think of the flowers decorated in the pews and how it took the effort to make it pretty for your special day. You recognized a few of them. It's going to be wasted on you. You didn't deserve pretty things. It's not too late. Your conscience told you but as you take your first step towards him — it didn't matter anymore.

During the days you spend thinking about the future as a stupid teenager that carried until your mid-twenties you envisioned your wedding with him. You will be dressed in white and you know Zayne will be handsome in his tailored suit. He's always handsome — you mused to yourself but after years of pining and yearning for him that will never be reciprocated — you abandoned the dream. Some things aren't meant to be.

Then suddenly, you're the one walking down the aisle towards him when you have already given up for this moment. A future with Zayne. A future for the man who noticed you when you knocked on death's doorstep and suddenly — poof — like a flick of a wand or the sudden appearance of a heartbeat in the electrocardiogram after you flatlined — he's marrying you and you doubt him.

He didn't love you. He was guilty for all of this that until this day — by marrying you, he will atone for the misfortune that fell upon you when it's not his fault. You were just born at the wrong time and place, carrying the resentment your mother that placed to you. You can't bring yourself to believe that he truly loves you.

He didn't need to do all of this and he acted like he didn't had a choice to be with her when you gave him the chance. You were willing to walk away! And then when you decided that your tears aren't enough for this relationship to last long, that it wasn't truly you — the heartbeats growing stronger in your stomach tells you how far he can go just to prevent you from leaving him.

Your thought drifted to her, lingering in the back of your mind and surfaces when you're at most vulnerable. A pure soul with a pretty face. Beautiful inside and out. Fearless and gentle to everyone. You were not. You were a thief stealing Zayne from her when you they're the happiest with each other. A coward for letting fear take control of you. Powerless.

The smile plastered on your face strains in your skin. The more you tried to keep it up, the more it numb you. You really can't marry him. You're stealing him from her. You didn't want him to resent you for existing but the gazes of everyone lies heavily on you. The thoughts still screams inside your brain.

And as you take his hand, you can't erase her.

He didn't missed how your eyes flickers between the doors behind you and him. Still contemplating to left after what he had done to secure this day with you. As if it the life he put in your belly isn't enough. That's why a wedding must happen with both of your families as the witness of this union.

Zayne stands there waiting for you, there isn't amiss from his usual stoic expression but his eyes tell something. Certainty. It wasn't arrogance but the confidence that you were truly his.

His gaze fall to the beauty of his bride — about to be his wife. Walking towards him, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The blues and greens a dedication to the commitment.

The wedding gown beautifully hugs your plush figure. The gentle swell of your belly strains against the fabric of your dress, it wasn't a baby bump but you're getting there.

The draped sleeves of your wedding gown delicately exposes your soft rounded shoulders. A touch of modesty and a tease there. Your hair woven into delicate braids and a silver tiara rests at the top of your head weaved with leaves and small blossoms of flowers. It is what considered a timeless and elegant look.

As you get nearer, Zayne basks in your softer features especially your face. A light make up enough to highlight your features.

It was the face he learned to love, the one he gets to look whenever you weren't looking. Him constantly admiring you from how your round cheeks puff when you're pouting and the fullness of your lips that he founds himself staring at it more than he can count.

There's a slight tremor in your hand as you take his and once you're facing each other in the middle of the altar, the priest beginning his spiel about the sacred vows of marriage and the people staring at the both of you — Zayne knows you will always be his and that is the finality of it.

His eyes remained on you the whole time. Admiring the bride that was about to be his. It didn't deter him how glassy your eyes look, at the cusp of crying. He reaches out to wipe the tear that rolls from your eye. He can hear the small awe of the crowd.

Don't cry. You repeated the words like a mantra. You're going to play in his cards but it didn't stop the single tear from rolling. All of this feels wrong cause it was never yours to begin with.

You keep your eyes on him and behind those piercing gaze of the green of his eyes — does he imagine of her instead of you? Does he think that it should be her standing in your place? That she should be the one dressed in white — them exchanging vows of eternity and not even death will part them and find each other in the next life.

Your chest felt tight and your stomach in a twist. You wished you can blame it on the pregnancy hormones or something cause it's easier to put the blame than take responsibility of your actions. You should have left, instead you waited for him and that was the biggest mistake. You were trapped with no way out.

In the same measured voice, he began to speak of his vows. The intensity is thick that you're the only one who can pick it up underlined with warmth that makes it convincing. He affirms you with those words, tinged with softness that is solely reserved for you. A rarity for those who have heard it.

His eyes never left you. Looking deeply into your eyes while he gently lifts your soft hand before slipping the ring in your finger.

“I do.” The words are hauntingly sickening when it was your turn to say it. Your hands tremble as you take his hand, you were scared that out of nervousness you won't be able to put it but lo and behold it slips smoothly on his scarred finger.

His hands cups your jaw, the coldness of his hands seeps into your skin. The priest have pronounced you both, husband and wife — the kiss is about to seal the union.

You only tipped your face to look at him and then, he's leaning down to you — bestowing the kiss that he's going to be yours.

The eyes, they will never lie. You see the same hazel green eyes of his looking at you and you wonder when he looks at you like this. His eyes soft but holds the composure, a hesitation that once never existed and with the love he made you believe but the love's dubious and the real one was the one he holds for her.

Her. You can't stop thinking about her. Sweet, beautiful her will never be compared to you. You glanced at the doors and for a brief moment you see her. Crying silently while the love of her life — kissing someone who is not her. You closed your eyes in surrender.

And when you feel the slow, soft breath coming from his mouth — you strategically move your face slightly to the side and only for him the corner of your mouth. A shaky breath escapes your lips. Swallowing the bitter invisible pill down your throat.

He remains calm and calculating under the rejection of his kiss towards you. He subtly pulls you closer to him and even when you reject his kiss in your lips, you will still feel his love as he gently kissed your forehead. A devotion that he hopes you'll understand and accept.

Silver Springs.

The place where Zayne took you after the wedding. A cozy place nestled in the middle of the woods with a lake view. Perfect for sunsets and sunrises. A perfect getaway from the bustling crowd of Linkon.

You wouldn't exactly call it a honeymoon and retreat is a more befitting word for it. A three day and two nights to be away from everyone. It was your first day as newlyweds — husband and wife. You didn't need to stay long in this place and Zayne have his duties as a doctor.

You didn't know what to feel after the wedding. Everything was rush from your pregnancy to marriage. You didn't thought of it and suddenly you're in the middle of the woods with your husband. The word is strange in your tongue. Zayne — your husband. The very one who had been so distant to you and he's the one who is constantly hovering over you.

Dusk had settled and Mr. Moon have made it appearance. The night is dark — dotted with tiny stars and the crickets chirped in the surrounding area. For some reason it gave you a peace of mind for a few minutes. It reminded you of the summers spent at the countryside where your siblings and you frolicked over the damp grasses and throwing mudpies at each other. Your mother disapproved but your father was forgiving. Children should be children — he says. You can't even hear a drop of scoldings from your old man.

Zayne's in the other room, putting the bags away. You didn't bother helping him. Already exhausted of what transpired yesterday and you want to sleep for now but your brain didn't allow. Since the beginning of your pregnancy, your sleep schedule was a mess. You were out like a light in the mornings and sometines you stayed up late like a night owl. If it wasn't for Zayne's interfering and making sure your sleep schedule was aligned to what a pregnant woman should have.

The door creaked and it revealed Zayne. Holding a cup of tea that helps you sleep comfortably. He places it on the bedside table.

“You're going to regret all of this.”

You blurt out of the blue. The words were sharp but it's a surrender. He stops in his tracks. His gaze falling down on you. Studying you for a second.

“What do you mean?” He asks evenly but he knows what you're referring to. He needs to hear the words.

Your absentmindedly caress your rounded belly. “Me. All of this.” Your tone bitter. “You're going to regret marrying me and having me to bear your children.” You say without indifference nor a quiver to your voice. Not yet. You're still not cracking.

“I don't regret any of it.” He says as he settled down besides you. The wind rustles the trees outside and crickets stopped chirping. The night falling into the silence.

You move to your side and without hesitation, you crawled towards him. Climbing on his lap, caging his thighs. He didn't react much like he anticipated this one and is relishing on the sudden affection of his pregnant wife.

He leans behind the headboard. Holding your wide hip and grounding you on his lap. Securing that you won't let go after such bold move.

“I won't ever regret of marrying you nor putting my child into you. It will happen in due time and I decided it's the best for the both of us.” He says flatly — like it was the reason that makes sense.

You remained silent. Reaching out to touch his face and he melts into your hold. Grasping your wrist as you traced the features of his face.

This man. Your husband belonged to her and you're the one touching him like this. Freely admiring how the light dances on his pale skin. The perfectly sculpted face that you think he was made from a god. Those thick lashes arched in novelty. Framing those narrow eyes of his with eyes the color of forest in spring dappled in sunlight.

“You were so out of reach from my fingers. I watched you. Loved you silently. Hoping that one day you'll look at me but you never did.” Your voice trembled. The calmness of your exterior starting to fade away the more you look at him.

“I heard I flatlined.” It was awful, during your stay at the hospital you heard how Zayne was desperately reviving you after your heart stopped beating, sending you into another cardiac arrest and almost had given up until your heartbeat had surfaced again.

“Was it only the time you realized you were truly afraid of losing me or was it I was slipping away from you?” You searched for a bit of emotion on his face but it remained stoic like he was thinking.

“I never feared anything more than losing you.” The fear, the pain, the guilt that wracked his whole being. All that crashes into a single tidal wave. Rendering him powerless to protect you from all the things that harmed you. It was out of his control of what happened to that fatal car accident that it almost costed your life.

It was beneath him. He had never been so useless his whole life. He never wanted to see you hurt again. Lying in the bed — fighting for you life.

“My mistake ks that I had never given you the chance to know you more but now, I have a lifetime to know you and I won't let anything get between us.” He squeezed the plushness of your waist.

“Yeah?” You asked not moved by his declaration. “What about her? You loved her.” Your eyes burn, thinking of her. He watched as the white of your eyes turned red — deeply affecting him that you still think of her when it was you he choose.

“She doesn't hold my affections the same you hold mine.” He says coldly like the entire existence of her was nothing and is a taboo one to speak that will get you cursed. His expression barely cracked. The reserved, calm exterior were nothing to the cold gaze in his eyes. Simmering with the unadulterated devotion and the darkness merging in those depths.

“That's it?” You murmur — unsure, like you can't believe what he said. “That's it?” You repeated again. All his life it was for her. Being a doctor specializing in the cardiology since she was sick, something in the heart. Devoting his studies to understand her condition and he says that like it doesn't matter anymore.

“You built yourself for her, Zayne — you loved her more than anything else and it is this easy for you to say that I'm the one who holds your affection when you turned like this after what happened to me?”

“I did love her but she's not you. She's not the one I married, not the one who's carrying my child. You're the only one that matters and it will be the end for this. We have a future together.” He says without indifference.

“You won't know the extent of my devotions — I will kill for you. Let the world know that you are mine.” He added. The room turns cold as he let those chilling words left his mouth without breaking eye contact. Frost have formed in the corners of the room but he's warm.

He watch as your eyes widens at his declaration. The heavy implications lays thick and it was true. You don't how far he'll go to such lengths for you, to prove that you're the only one. Enough to convince you to abandon the thought that you will always be second.

Kill. The word is strong. Shivers creep down your spine. It doesn't hold any hostility but the thought of him killing for you, scares you the most.

“I save lives and I can take one too — if anyone touches you — let alone a strand of your hair, I'm the last person they'll be looking at. I am capable of holding a knife to someone's throat much as I am with a scalpel. Nobody will harm you as long I am here.” He added.

In which he already did. The paramedics fault to sent the man also in Akso Hospital. The negligence of his drunk driving endangered your life and in the unforeseen future will also put the others. He just ended it. Administering small doses of potent drug that made it look like he peacefully passed away in his sleep.

“I turned you into a monster.” You whispered, about to remove yourself from him but he kept you on his hold.

“You didn't. You made me feel without restraints. Real. This is who I am.” The tone of his voice didn't change while he strokes your cheeks adoringly.

You were on top of him but is Zayne is quick to admonish you to place you beneath him, that he's always the one to be in control.

“My devotion runs deep for you, more than you will ever know.”

This isn't what you envisioned for your future. Forever tied to him for this lifetime. He took the words from your mouth but it doesn't mean it was enough to say it again.

“I will hate you in the long run.” You warned him but Zayne smiles softly at you.

“It's fine. I have enough love for the both of us. Enough for the two little ones.” A faint smile ghosted his lips. Already attached to the twins — to the thought of being a husband to you and a father to your unborn children. He rests his palm to your protruding belly.

He gently switches the position of you both and now you're lying beneath him. Your hair sprawled like dark halo in the pillows. “You didn't kissed me properly in our wedding.”

His gaze lingering on the soft plump lips of yours before looking at your eyes. “I'll be kissing you properly tonight. You won't deny me right?” It wasn't a question for he kissed you and it's not only a kiss he got from you.

It was a real honeymoon after all.

It's the first time in months you have seen her again.

In the quiet afternoon of the corridors in the hospital, dressed in her hunter uniform. You were done for your monthly check-up with Zayne in your side. His crisp white uniform is abandoned for his black dress shirt and trousers paired with his leather shoes. He's not a doctor today but a doting husband to his heavily pregnant wife.

The flowy pale blue sundress did nothing to conceal the pronounced baby bump. Straining against the fabric and it's the only piece of clothing that is providing you comfort. Loose and breathable.

It may the effect of your pregnancy but you weren't the same anymore when you've seen her. There's no more stinging burn in your eyes nor the heaviness in your chest. You felt at peace or you made peace with your emotions towards her. It's not the assurance that Zayne was your husband and pregnant with his child — it is because you surrendered.

There is no point on dwelling with your ugly insecurities towards her and besides you're going to harm your babies in your womb. You were already at risk with your pregnancy and you shall not strain the innocent babies growing inside you.

The thoughts will always linger. Zayne studies your reaction or the possible trigger of a meltdown but he found nothing. He should be assured — relieved but the neutral expression in your face didn't settle right with him and then he noticed — the mask you were wearing.

Well, it didn't last long for the facadé to crack. You were calm but there's still the hurt left in your heart.

He didn't speak of it but he keeps a firm grip to your plush waist. Shielding you from any possible stress that may harm you and the babies in your womb.

They crossed paths again. What once yesterday's silent promise was nothing to today's and future's commitment to you. He didn't spare her a glance not once when in the past he look at her like she's the most precious thing in the world but now, she was only a shadow. A remnant of the past. He couldn't bother not when there's you in his hold, pregnant with his children. A future he looks forward to.

After leaving the hospital, you were both walking in the nearby park in Linkon. The trees were lush with greenery, the pond glimmering from the sunlight reflecting in the water. The grass soft to touch. The weather wasn't also warm or cold just a right touch of being a good weather.

It's been a few paces and the you noticed it, the stares.

Of course, who would not stare at the eye candy besides you holding your hands. If Zayne weren't a doctor he could be a model. Posing on different cover pages of famous magazines dressed in the latest trends of clothing. Haute couture and all that. Walking in the runway. He must be used from all of it. Except he's not the only one being stared at. They're also looking at you and Zayne noticed that.

You were looking more radiant. Lovelier and fresh like a rain drop. The pale blue sundress did your voluptuous curves justice even with your bump. You could be quite oblivious to but not for long.

The stares, they were weighted and when people stares either they are judging or admiring and you always think of former. You weren't a pretty face nor have the body of a model or maybe it's just the bump. That's right the bump and you unconsciously squeezed your hand in his. Anxiety filling the pregnancy brain of yours.

“Is there something on my face, Zayne. They're staring.” You asked him unsure. Pulling your cardigan closer to you.

He turns around to face you. Another curious gaze from a man he catched giving them a sharp look that says back off before looking at you. “No.” His voice tender and assuring.

“It must be the bump or I've gotten too big.” He sees how your eyes turned sad and the tears was already there.

“It's not the bump. It's you.” His voice firm and it kind of scares you.

“They're admiring my wife.” He explains and the sadness were replaced of a assurance. “Don't worry about them. You have me.” He softly murmurs to you and you believe him.

It makes him want to protect you more.

Zayne took you to a nearby flower shop. Where a nice old lady owns it. Keeping in mind to pick the flowers you wanted to plant since you've been eyeing the vacant part of the garden in the house. You didn't need to tell him. He knows. You've also been much open to him, vocal about what you want.

For the twins, you spoke to him one night about how you wanted flowers in the garden. You wanted flowers to bloom for the twins and he's more than happy to fulfill that for you.

“When are you due, dearie?” A voice spoke besides you. A gardening can in their hand while they admire the potted plants near you. Her hair silver, kept into a neat bun. Their eyes kind and she reminds you of the nice grandmas you meet in the hospital during your checkups or anywhere.

“In a few months.” You said softly, your fingertips tracing the petals of the daises. Admiring the other variants of flowers, thinking of what you should plant for your babies.

She laughs in a light-hearted way. Patting her apron smudged with dirt from tending all the plants in her shop. “The little ones are joys, you know.”

Your mood dampened a bit, remembering how you got pregnant in the first place and Zayne notices about to intervene not wanting to upset you further. “First one?” The nice old lady inquired.

You smiled softly as your gaze drifts to your round belly. “Twins, actually.” You murmur.

“Double the blessing at the first try.” She muses, looking at you. “Pregnancy suits you beautifully, sweetheart.”

Your face warmed at the compliment. “Excuse me, dearie. I shall find you a selection of seed packets of flowers you might like for your babies.” She left with a smile and you turned around to meet his gaze.

“You don't need to hover.”

He keep his hand planted at the small of your back and you sighed. This man can be stubborn.

The old lady came back with the seed packets she promised. She noticed Zayne. “You take care of her.”

“I will.” His voice flat while staring adoringly at you.

You both left shortly after getting the seed packets and bulbs of the flowers you wanted.

“I'm staying home for today.” He tells you one morning. The sun were barely up and you were puking your guts out in the toilet. Six months in your pregnancy and nausea have been kicking you harder than ever. Your twins were literally taking up the space in your belly.

“Is that allowed? You're the chief surgeon.” You take his hand as he assisted you in getting back to your feet again and guiding you towards the bedroom.

“My colleagues can handle today's work.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing and if he says so. You don't have the strength to argue nor push him anymore not when you're already resting your head on his chest. The warmth of his body and the coldness of his hands is what you need.

“Mmm...” A small sound escaped your lips as you tried to suppressed the sudden movements of one of your twins. It was kicking your stomach. You raised your head to meet his gaze. “Calm your spawns in my belly.” Groaning as you feel the both of your twins getting more active.

The surgeon put his hand on your belly. Rubbing soft circles around it and the twins immediately settled down. You didn't mean to sound bitter and call your twins — spawn but with your emotions heightened caused by your pregnancy that is your husband's fault. You can't help it.

Triggered by the way you addressed your precious babies — the familiar stinging pricking behind your eyes started and it broke out when you look at him.

“I hate you.” The words slipped from your mouth and then followed by another. “I hate that you put them in my belly without asking me if I wanted them.”

You couldn't count how many time you said you hated him than you loved him still Zayne remains tender with you. He did said he got enough love for you and how will he accept the hatred from you.

He countered it. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love that you're mine. I love that you're going to be the mother of my children.” Your lips curls up in a pout and quivered as you broke out in sob and he kisses your tears away until you calmed down.

It's not really a big price he needed to pay. He didn't regret his decisions cause it was planned and he only acted upon it. Similar to operations, you can't cut open without studying their condition and Zayne knew that you still love him.

If you should not have still loved him, you would have tried to escape him or hurt the two little ones growing in your belly but you didn't. You loved them, nurtured and took care of them with care. His extensions of devotion.

Even when you screamed and told him how much you hated him — why did you still accept him in your arms when he seeks it or the days where you look for him for the safety of his body he provided you with love and comfort.

Strongly besotted that when you tried to annoy him with your cravings having particularly developed a taste for the brightly orange colors of the carrots that should have been obliterated — he took a bite after you said that “I'm going to eat carrots cause you hate it so you can hate me too.” He long avoided that disgusting excuse of a vegetable and only you can make him eat it — not to spite you but to show that he will never hate you cause the mistake you only did was love him with all your heart.

There's also your pregnancy, he didn't thought about being a father but with you — everything's right. Falling into its rightful pieces.

Some nights, she crossed his mind. Thinking that he didn't truly loved her. He did became what he is today but it's not enough for a reason to stay. To love is to hurt. That phrase didn't justify when his love for her slowly diluted and was filled for you. Filling the cracks of your shattered heart. He only got hurt when he almost lost you — when your heart decided to stop beating.

He was terrified of losing you — of living a life without the sound of your voice or your presence haunting him.

You are his destruction and you shall be only his salvation.

Stained his hands with the blood of he saved and those who harmed you. He will protect you even it cost him what he believes in.

It was all the answers and the logic that he received that he didn't truly loved her cause Zayne only bleeds for you.

The twins came early as expected.

Aurora. His first born daughter and the eldest of the twin came into the world crying her eyes out like a newborn does. Her cries filled the quietness of the hallways and mixes with the storm raging outside.

The other twin — the one that gave all the doctors and nurses including him the scare. It wasn't visible since they were trained to be calm in situations like this. He didn't came crying for he wasn't breathing.

They had tried to all medical procedures to coax his youngest to cry or breath and even with his specialty in neonatal care, it didn't prepared him for this scenario until he sees your weakened state, reaching out for his child — your child with him.

Zayne didn't believe in miracles that it was only the will of the mind and body shall survive in dire straits but a mother's love for her child proves that miracles exist.

He placed your son to your chest and you cradled your unmoving child to your chest. “Mommy's waiting for you.” You whispered. Your voice hopeful — trying not to crack. Gently tapping his back to coax him to cry or breath or anything that he's alive. It was minutes of pure torture but you remained calm, you didn't let the fear of losing your child take over.

You didn't take your eyes off him. Tears are welling up in your eyes but you didn't let it slip and then it happened — a tiny flutter of breath — his tiny fists curls up in your chest. You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and the tears fall before you can realize. You let out a choked laugh. Relieved that your baby boy is alive and well.

“Yue.” You call his name and he gave you the tiniest of smiles before his eyes began to open and stares at you with eyes similar to his father.

Outside the storm had passed. Dark skies began to part and to show the moon peeking through the stormy clouds. Shining brightly and fully.

The room is dim. The monitors beep and seeing you in bed brought unwanted painful memories for him. You're not in that situation anymore. You're alive and passed out from exhaustion despite trying to fight it earlier to admire your children.

The twins are resting in their separate bassinet. Already done with their tests and no health conditions were present. Both healthy and thriving.

Zayne loves his children before they were even born but his gaze fixated on his baby boy. The one who didn't cry and breathed not until surrounded by your warmth or hear the voice of his mother.

Similar to him whenever he wasn't near to you. His fingers gently stroke his baby's boy head then whispered. “You shouldn't scare your mother like that.” The baby only stirred, lips twitching as if understanding him.

He looks at you peacefully sleeping. He will never you put with this kind of pain again. He promised to himself. Admiring his wife blissfully vulnerable and beautiful.

“We're together now.” He said before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

At that moment with the twins and you resting, Zayne had never felt so complete in his life.

It felt surreal — how you managed to birth your two babies. Peacefully asleep in their separate cribs, dressed in their snowman onesies.

The pregnancy scared you and with Zayne constantly hovering over you adds the anxiety that you weren't going to be a good mother. You weren't even ready to conceived the both of them but Zayne wanted them — wanted to grow in your womb that you will have no means to leave him.

It mirrored how weak you are that you are easily manipulated with no control of your autonomy. Forced to be with his children without the thought how it will change the course of your lives.

Zayne became the cold and ruthless man that didn't know he was capable of. He would rather let you hate him than leave. You screamed — told all the foul words that you knew but he only stands in front of you with cold gaze. Did his heart even break when you told them all those spiteful words?

The nursery was quiet. The walls were pale blue, painted with arctic animals. Penguins in the corner with their black and white feathers, polar bears in their snow white fur and the other wall were dotted with tiny snowman.

It became your haven when everything becomes too heavy for you to carry. What once you despised growing inside you became your comfort. You hated yourself for hating your children when they were inside your belly cause how come you would want something you didn't ask for and when your baby boy came out almost lifeless and brought to life with your warmth — it frightened you.

They lay asleep. A twitch of their lips in there and their body stirring. You reached out gently to stroke your daughter's cheek with your knuckles. Sweet Aurora with her adorable smile. Melting hearts after she was born. She looks like you with your eyes in hers, taking your facial features and you hope she won't take after your personality.

You kiss the pad of your fingertips, pressing it to her chubby cheeks. You teared up a little. Your gaze fell to the other crib where your baby boy rests well he's not when he sensed you. Reserved Yue who only cries when you're far away from him. Always wanting to he with you.

You take him out from his crib to soothe him. Cradling him close to your chest and your baby boy looks at you with his father's eyes. The same hazel green that you didn't know wether to love or hate it but it belongs to Yue. The baby you almost lost. He's a mirror of Zayne. A tiny version of your husband and the resemblance grew bigger every day.

“You know how to scare mommy, Yue.” You whispered in the quietness of the night and his round eyes stares at you — unblinking.

You sniffle a bit. “Mommy won't wish anything but she hopes that you and Aurora would grow up, strong and healthy.” You laugh a bit to yourself. It was every mother's wishes to their children and you're no different.

Then your voice drops lower like you were on the verge of crying — you are but you only smiled. “But I hope you and Aurora won't be like me.” Your voice cracks. “Please don't be like me.” You repeated and your breaks with every word. “Please don't change to be loved — to be wanted.” You don't want a repeat of history. You don't want your children to be in the same pain you had gone through.

“Learn to leave when you're not needed or wanted and learn to stand up for yourself. Mommy will teach you how even she failed to do it for herself.” The first tear came rolling and Yue raises his tiny hands as if to reach you.

You laugh to yourself before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Mommy's sorry for telling you this, Yue.” You look at your daughter. “Aurora.” You silently call her name. “Mommy does not want her babies to be hurt.”

You wipe the tears using the heel of your palm before gently rocking your baby boy to sleep. You promised to yourself that they won't be like you. A weak coward who can only stand up for their self when it's only too late.

Zayne stilled for a moment when he hears you say those words. He didn't mean to hear it and assumed you were asleep except you weren't and he finds you in the nursery. Sitting in a rocking chair. Rubbing soft circles to your baby boy and then he hears you. Begging and broken.

After all this time you still think of that? That you still live in the past with the pain of his shortcomings but who could ever blame you — you were hurt by his own.

Slowly, he walks towards you.

The weariness of today can't compare to your pain. He holds your wrist — almost startling you and he catches the tear stains in your cheek and the embarrassment that followed.

He kneels in front of you. Reaching to wipe the tear stains on your face before cupping your round cheek on his large palm. “They won't know it. They will be loved the way I loved you.” He says in a calm voice that soothes your very being despite being hurt.

“I won't allow that.” His voice low enough for you to hear and not to disturb the children sleeping. “And you should never believe nor feel that.”

You were about to say something but your lips closed. Waiting for him to speak again.

“You were never meant to feel those things.” Brushing the tears with his thumb. “You're mine and I have a lifetime to spare and the next that you shall never feel these things again.” He assures you before standing up to press a kiss to your lips before his gaze fell down to his son who looks exactly like him. He softly caressed their soft head.

“Yue, Aurora and you shall never be in pain and I will rid everyone whoever tries to harm you all.” It's dark and chilling from how he spoke those words.

You only hoped that his words are true and there won't be a repeat of that again.

[cj-theyoungling]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

cw : injuries ig. Idk man

synopsis : You decide to surprise Jason by coming home early to visit but he surprises you instead.

author's note : I've never written for the Batfam so if this is OOC I'm so sorry. I've been obsessed with them recently though.

"Jason!" You call across the foyer as you enter the Wayne mansion. You hang your jacket on the coat rack and smile at Alfred who enters the room.

"Good evening ma'am." He says, moving to grab your bag from you and hang it up.

"Good evening to you too Alfred." You greet him, "Is Jason here?"

"Master Todd is in his room." He informs you

"Thank you Alfred." You start up the stairs before turning to face Alfred again, "Oh I almost forgot. Here's the cookie recipe I promised you last time I was here."

"Much appreciated ma'am. Glad to see you back." He takes the card from your hands and then walks out to the kitchen.

You make your way to Jason's room and knock on the door. When the door creaks open and Damian peeks his head out.

"Where's Jason?" You ask in confusion, trying to open the door. Damian shoves his body weight against the door, preventing you from opening it further so you can't see inside.

"He's on patrol." Damian replies quickly, still trying to push the door shut.

"Alfred said he was here." You say to the younger boy and press your back against the door so you can shove your weight against it too.

"Well he's not." Damian struggles against the force of you pushing against the door.

"If he's not here then why are you in his room?" You question, shoving the door a bit more open, you chuckle at the intensity of Damian who is using all of his body weight to try and keep the door from opening. You're honestly surprised he hasn't started pulling out gadgets to aid him.

"No reason." You hear the tell-tale lift of his voice that tells you he's lying to you. With one more shove against the door you finally stumble into the room , barely keeping on your feet. You stand up straight and catch sight of Jason in the bathroom, picking glass shards out of his side with tweezers.

"Nothing to see here. Get moving." Damian says pushing you towards the door.

"It's fine Dams. You can go." Jason finally speaks up.

Damian huffs and walks out of the room. You close the door behind him and walk to the bathroom in front of Jason. You carefully take the tweezers out of his hands and take over picking the glass out of his side and chest.

"What happened?" You ask quietly.

"I fell out of a window." He explains, his hand comes to hold your wrist and pin it against his chest. You eyes trail up from where you were working to his eyes.

"Weren't you wearing body armor or something?" You ask, worry laced in your voice.

"I was caught off guard. i was just stopping a mugging on my way home."

"Why didn't you call a doctor? Or at least ask someone for help." He ignores your question and presses his lips to your forehead, "Jason," You begin again, he cuts you off with another kiss, this time to your lips.

His free hand cradles the side of your face so he can deepen the kiss. He pulls away with a smile, "I missed you sweetheart." he murmurs.

"I missed you too Jason. Let me finish cleaning you up." You insist. he let's go of your wrist and let's you finish cleaning and wrapping up his cuts.

The second you finish up your work his hands reach under your thighs to lift you up against him.

"How's college been sweetheart?" he asks between kisses.

"It's a lot better than Gotham State." You giggle.

"Mhm." He mumbles into your neck, setting you on the bed and pressing kisses to the crook of you neck while holding you tightly.

"The city hasn't gotten much better I see." You giggle. The two of you cuddle up on his bed, your head resting on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" He asks

"I wanted to surprise you." You smile and press a kiss to his lips.

"I love you." he says against your skin.

"I love you too."

[magickizu]

Phantom Contingency Plan

Crossover dp x dc, with hinted dead on main. So I've got this little time line I have in mind for my own crossover AU and this is a snippet of it. Will post more of it; might make a master post too at some point. For now, the prompt:

After something happened and the Phantom-Squad (Danny, Ellie, Dan and Jazz) had to reveal themselves to the batfam, Bruce calls up Danny and tells him, now that he thought about it and in the least offensive way possible: how likely is it for the Phan-Squad to "go rogue". Danny is silent, a thought filled, contemplating silence. "... I'll come by the cave tomorrow eve at 8pm."

P.s.: sorry if the batfam becomes too much ooc, I grew up a marvel-child and just recently became invested into dc. pwq

"This is absolutely ridiculous, B!" Jason, in full Red Hood get up, was leaning against a support beam. He just can't sit right now. This idiot really just straight up decided to go and ask Danny for their weak points! Instead of going the normal route of collecting information, to expand the contingency plan alone- like it was supposed to be!

"As if any of them, who's very core is actively making them protect, save and help- literally!!- would just go against it and harm themselves with it." Why Hood was this adamant, about the Nightingales? Okay, yeah, maybe it does have something to do with him crushing on Danny, the moment he made the pits fall silent for the first time... But why the hell would he ever say that out loud!?

"It may be in their instinct, but you can never be sure what happens when that person breaks." Nightwing, who leaned on a nearby table. He talks calmly, but stern. His expression shows the hint of unease even he feels; the Nightingales have come to Gotham in an attempt to flee from someone. Someone who's set on hunting them down and hurting them, they're basically refugees. It doesn't seem 100% right, definitely. But the "what if"s are too big of a risk, none of them got any idea of what they're truly capable of.

"Bullshit..." Hood crosses his arms, looking away. His helmet is off, just the domino, so his muttering comes out as just that.

"Hood, please. Nightwing is right. As much as they want to help, you know it's for the best. Not even Constantine could think of something." Barbara sat next to Batman, as she turned to face the boys.

"Wait, what?? You can't be serious! Even Gandalf the Blond didn't know??" Nightwing looks at her incredulous. The redhead shook her head, but a slim smirk formed on her lips from the nickname.

"That doesn't excuse anything-" Hood got cut off by the notification that someone was coming in through the tunnel.

For the first time since the others came in, Batman moved from his seat at the batcomputer. He turned towards the tunnel entrance, where the roaring of a motorcycle can be heard. While Barbara and Nightwing seemed surprised, Hood could somehow, probably through his now healing core, sense it was Danny- which in turn just sent his head reeling a bit and his heart fluttering a little. Batman just checked the clock; the moment Danny brought his bike to a halt, next to Jason's, it was exactly 8:00pm, as promised. The ghost king really does keep his word, that's good to know.

Danny wasn't wearing any padding: no sturdy jeans, no leather jacket, just his usual get up and the black helmet with neon green accents. Crazy dangerous for a normal living person, but what could possibly happen? He's already dead, plus more sturdy anyway and untouchable when he wants to. Plus he's got the heightened reflexes, to use his abilities timely. ...which honestly just made his entrance, like- Wham!

Nightwing whistled impressed, "Damn dude, you're making little wing real competition, looking all cool and serious like that." He smiles, still impressed. Barbara just gave him a look that said, to keep his mind focused. In turn Nightwing answered with a look that asked, why it's only him and to look at Hood. Who in all fairness just was completely entranced by his crush looking extremely awesome, which made him incredibly hot. Well, at least until-

"Jay, stand back." Danny said, well... more like softly commanded, right as he took his helmet off, hanging it onto the handlebars. Said vigilanty did as he was told, without questioning. If it could harm Danny, it will harm him.

"Thank you, for not only your understanding, but your quick response, as well as trust to not misuse this. We really appreciate it." The Bat said in his low, serious tone. Danny nodded, giving him a similar facial expression.

"And thank you, for appreciating the afford." He grabbed two silver suitcases: one was flatter and the other looked more like a box. The moment he stepped closer to the table Nightwing was sitting on and where Hood was still standing, albeit a little off now, Hood became a little paler and suddenly feeling a bit weaker and uncomfortable. As if something underneath his skin began itching, somewhere inside. Danny's gaze shot towards him immediately, after setting them both down.

"You okay?" He asked, the concern visible in his eyes. The man's feet took him over towards Hood, the moment he was approximately 2 meters away, Danny shook and rubbed his arm. Probably to stop the same feeling Hood felt.

"I'm- ...yeah. I can handle, just uncomfortable." He chose to be honest, knowing, hearing and feeling the concern emanating from his core. But he nods, then stands himself next to the taller man.

Meanwhile Batman, Barbara and Nightwing stood themselves around the table in a half circle around the suitcases.

"The thicker case is filled with blood blossoms. Do not open that one, unless it's happening. These flowers have anti-spectral properties, they not only harm us, can occasionally break haunts and ghostly curses, they can and will kill ghosts and ghost-adjacent beings through exposure alone. Especially in that quantity." He begins to explain and Jason shifts slightly, shuffling one step away, trying not to make it obvious. Nightwing and Barbara look on in shock, even Batman has to take a deep breath.

"But aren't they just a fairytale? Constantine had mentioned them, but also said that they come from old folklore. Medieval times, when Christianity wasn't even that known. And aren't they supposed to have anti-supernatural properties?" Barbara questioned and it's true. John told Batman about them, but added that he didn't exactly know if it wasn't just some old folklore and not to put his bets on it. He knew of the infinite realms, sure. But Ghosts explicitly? Not that much..

Danny nodded. "They are as old as humanity and they have been used in countless traps and banishment rituals. It's just that..." He grabs his neck, thinking of which words to use and letting his usual self finally slip through. He's been practicing explaining things, this definitely put it to the test. "Hmmm... Okay, uhm... It was said that they have anti-supernatural properties, because quite a few ghosts were mistaken as other supernatural creatures. For example... Yetis!" He snapped his fingers, smiling proudly to himself, that he came up with it that fast.

"Yetis...?" Nightwing asked completely flabbergasted. "Pfff... Bigfoot also a ghost? Ow-" He couldn't help himself, but got a slap on his arm from Barbs, who glarred daggers at him.

"Yes and no, Bigfoot is actually a spirit of sorts, but not really. He just wants to be left alone, man. And yes, Yetis. They are ghosts of the far frozen and spirits of ice, the cold and healing. Because they're technically ghosts, they'd be affected, but they don't exactly look like your conventional, stereotypical ghost. So people just forgot about them due to monotheistic religions, because instead of blaming vengeful, violent and malevolent spirits, they became demons. Which lasted not that long after exorcisms and prayers became a thing." Danny explained.

"I see... So that's why Constantine didn't know for sure." Batman nodded. Hood got a stool and sat down a little further away- was this what kryptonite felt like to the supers? He made a mental note to never tease them about it again... In the back of his mind and in his chest, he can hear- no... Sense a chirping. It's Danny sensing Hood's tense unease. The smaller ones core calling out, //it's okay//will protect//save//. It did help a bit though and Hood's grateful for that.

"And this one?" Nightwing pointed at the slimmer suitcase, intrigued now.

"Those are regular ecto-blasters. They just shoot ecto infused lasers- completely harmless to anything living. The only thing it does is to inconvenience or harm a ghost, but they're mostly non-lethal." Batman nodded again, opening the case and inspecting the guns. "If you need more, just say so. I used to use them constantly, so I still got quite a few on the shelf." He crosses his arms, for comfort. But Hood's attention was drawn more to the 'used to use them'. Danny wheelded harmful 'mostly non-lethal' weapons for a while, so that also implies that he knows how to turn them lethal... Why?

"If that is possible, I would be most grateful." Batman said, holding eye contact with Danny, who in turn nodded.

"I'll drop them off tomorrow, then. You'll need to recharge them with both electricity and ectoplasm. Don't ever let them run low, tho or it will back fire on you. Not pretty. When you aim to stun: hit wherever besides the chest, it regenerates. But when you aim to harm and injure: aim for the core. It's, you guessed it, in the middle of the chest. Even if ghosts can regenerate, just empty the thing and keep firing; the amount of ecto we lose, is too much to heal against. Especially because we need said ecto to heal in the first place. And don't be surprised: ghosts melt. We don't turn to ashes, get sucked away to who knows. We melt into ecto." Danny answered almost immediately, stunning the birds and Oracle. But the bat only nodded, containing his own curiosity, as he closed the case and readied them to carry away.

- - - - -

"Danny! Talk?" He turns his head towards Hood; both sit on their bikes, standing next to each other. The traffic light glowing red, when the taller man calls. Then after a few seconds of silence, Danny looks around and motions for Hood to follow.

After some more explanations in the cave, on how to most effectively use each weapon and tool against his very own life and leaving the two birds as well as Oracle stunned silent, Hood decided to ride along. Since he has to go in that direction anyway, might as well ride with Danny and spend more time. As the light turns green, Danny nods and leads the way. After another 10-15 minutes of silent driving they get to a quiet viewpoint in a more abandoned area of the neighborhood. They come to a halt and the taller is the first to speak,

"Just... Just out of curiosity. How come or well, why were you so, I wouldn't say eager but, so... fast to respond? Not even the League members reacted this... How to put it, ready? Collected? Hell knows, they didn't nerd out about their weaknesses. So-"

"Jay, tell me: how much do you trust yourself?" The smaller man takes off his helmet and hangs it up on the handlebars again. Hood sighs and does similar, leaving only his domino mask on, as he leans against the railing, next to his king. He shrugs.

"I guess... talking about confidence in my skills and how to use them? Yes. Yes, I do." But the electric blues only look over the city skylines, he nods.

"No, I mean in yourself." So naturally Jayson's breath hitches, when these eyes suddenly stared into his. "Your ability to control your emotions, when the worst happens and push comes to shove." He takes a deep breath, his gaze flicking from the other up to the sky. Surprisingly it's a clear view of the stars. And again Jason decides that a) this man has so many more secrets, than he already thought and b) it just adds to his enchanting mystique and liminal beauty. Oh damn, he fell hard and deep.

"I mean... The pit-rages stopped, when we began training, but..." That's when realisation hit him. "...I don't know. No."

"...and I do know, that I won't." Jason looks at Danny almost immediately. His small, growing and healing core rumbling with //confused//what?//. Danny sighs heavily: "the last time it happened, I developed new powers again and apparently declared war to the conspiratorial wing of the government, leaving nothing but death, destruction and a crater the size of Wayne Manor's property line behind. I wasn't even at full health. I've also seen what happens, when I let my anger win and that was from a point where I was about 10 years weaker than I am today. It was a wasteland of a world, didn't even see the justice league there, so..." Danny's hands slip from the railing to hug himself, Jason just stares stunned and in shock, trying to buffer the words and sounds the other one makes. Said one smiles weakly his gaze never leaves the stars, as if they're giving him some form of comfort or answers only he can read. "...emotions are more than natural for ghosts, we're literally made by them. The will to survive, the need to protect and help or ... The boiling rage to avenge." He finally gave Jason a small glance and encouraging smile. "Really it's only natural. But that's also why I'm so hellbend on teaching you to control yourself. The more your core heals,..." He reaches out touching Jason's chest and his heart skips a beat. Gods he hopes the other doesn't notice, but he doesn't react so that's good? "The more you will feel and the harder it becomes to regulate. But... I got the feeling, you'll manage." He smiles and pats Jason's chest, then he turns back to the stars. His smile slowly fading. "...but if things happen, that'll make me lose it for good? I'd prefer to be taken out clean before another 'reign of terror' Happens."

They're silent, Jason has to process what he just heard. Danny more so as it still looks like he's listening to the stars sing, however that's possible. But hey, that's the Nightingale's ever since they showed up: anything but normal. The bigger one finally huffs, "So... You're really a big f*cking fish, huh... Your siblings that powerful too?" The other shrugs, yes and no. "Damn... Well, I definitely hope that it'll never happen. ...would absolutely suck to lose you." He glances at the other, just barely to try and get a sneak peak at him. But Danny just smiles softly, eyes closed. That's when Jason can sense the chirping from Danny's core again, //appreciate//you too//love//.

...wait. Wait, hold on!-

"Welp, was nice but I gotta go now. Jazz is probably done with dinner by now and they're waiting for me." The smaller turns to walk towards his bike, patting Jason on the shoulder and back again. "I'll see around, Red Guy. You know where to find me." He winks cheeky and puts on his helmet and like a phantom into the night, is gone. Jason still stands there...

Did he... Did he really just understand... Love? No, wait again! Danny and his siblings too always say, that ghosts are very sensitive to emotions and can read them off of- ...

...did Danny knew from the very beginning...?

[h4ndwr1tten]

toji fushiguro x sensitive/crybaby!reader

toji might be a little ooc ;)

you don't know why you agreed to this. why would you ever think this was a good idea? thanks to your decision, you're stuck on the couch, not ready to be jump-scared and faced with blood and violence for 2 hours straight.

that might not even be the worst part. the worst part is the fact that your doing this with your boyfriend, toji, who can sit through the most gruesome horror movies like they're nothing. you can already feel the teasing and humiliation coming.

tonight was movie night, and it was his turn to pick out a movie. you had a feeling he would be selecting something horrible, but he never forces you to pick another movie if he doesn't like it. he'll only make hateful comments, but watch it with you nonetheless. so it was only fair to do the same.

but as the movie begins, you're starting to regret not saying something. nothing hasn't even happened, but the screen is pitch black and slow, eery music plays in the background.

a scream comes out of nowhere and you jump and gasp, gripping onto toji's bicep for support.

an actual scene begins to play, but toji is laughing at you. you slap at his chest, muttering, "it's not funny."

"nothing even happened!"

fast forward 45 minutes later, you swear you're going into cardiac arrest. the movie has jump-scares every 5 minutes, someone stupid dies a violent death... you could go on. your heartbeat has significantly increased and you're trembling, bad. every time you flinch or jump, toji just laughs at you while patting your head or rubbing your back. your eyes burn every now and then, because why is it so realistic, and why is toji poking fun at you?

your clutching his hand with white knuckles, eyes glued to the screen. you think the plot's calmed down, but it hasn't.

the next scare shows up and lasts around a minute, or so it feels, and it's so extreme that you throw the blanket over yourself and hide your face in toji's chest, violently shaking.

"no... no more, please," you whimper into him, shaking your head. you really couldn't take it any more and had to surrender.

toji laughs a little but realizes your being serious. he feels you gripping onto him for dear life, along with his shirt growing damp. he pauses the movie.

"hey," he whispers, trying to coax you out of hiding, "hey, it's okay. it's alright, baby."

"no," you choke out a sob.

a small smile finds its way on his lips. he coos, "aww, was it too much for you, doll? too scary?"

you nod. "mhmm. i d-don't... can't handle h-horror."

you feel guilty and humiliated for crying, but your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind. he hoists you up and into his lap, allowing for him to comfort you better.

"i know, i know. shhh, you're okay, it's over," toji reassures you, soothingly rubbing your back as you continue to cry. "my poor baby got too scared?"

"i'm sorry," you pull your face out of his chest and wipe at it, continuing, "i know it—cough—it's your turn to p-pick, i'm sorr—"

"shh, you don't have to say sorry. i should've asked if you were okay with it first. i'm sorry, sweet girl."

he presses your head into the crook of his neck, his reassurance and comfort unceasing. he still chuckles here and there, but he's mostly helping you breathe and relax.

"let's watch a better movie, yeah?"

the rest of the night was spent binge-watching tinker bell and safely in toji's arms.

he flinches every now and then to scare you, and you have to smack his arm or chest while he snickers like a child.

[kaechu1]

Hi !! May I ask for a Burning Spice cookie x Innocent wife reader please ?? Not abuse or manipulation, just Fluff please...

burning spice cookie x innocent wife reader

note: how am I supposed to write fluff with this cookie man? i can say i try my best, it might be a little bit ooc because this man cookie is something...

warning: nothing just pure fluff, he's protective tho.

burning spice cookie treasure your innocence, he's so fond of the way you view the world, so pure and innocent, how did a cookie like you get with him in the first place?

you're two different cookies, he's the destruction and you're the peace, he's the storm and you're the soft clouds, he's the giant waves and you're the calm sea

burning spice cookie loves that about you, and he'll do everything in his power to protect your innocence, he doesn't care what he has to do, he'll never let you lose your innocence.

as his wife he'll protect you at all cost, no matter if it is him who's protecting you or one of his cookies, he'll always order nutmeg tiger cookie to watch over you when he can't.

he's keeping you away from the other beasts cookie, nope he can risk it with them.

he stops yelling or doing anything horrible when you're around, he'll even treat cookies better if you tell him to. he'll continue what he was doing when you get awa

If anyone disrespect you in any way behind your back.. oh god he's not staying for long, but burning spice won't even bother, he'll just send nutmeg cookie to do the job.

as if someone says anything in your face? yea i don't think they'll dare to... burning spice is always with you, so one wrong look and they will crumble.

and oh if someone hurt you? yea i think we don't need to get into details we saw what happened to golden cheese.

he always tries to control his temperature around you not like he could ever get mad at you but whenever he's in a bad mood he runs straight to you, after all it just needs one smile from you and he's all calm.

he can listen to you talk and sing non stop without getting bored, he could never get bored of the sight of you or of your angelic voice , he can listen to them forever.

he's not very good with words so he'll try to show his love through actions, whenever it's buying gifts, or spending time with you, or just physical touchs.

if you're sad about anything he'll do everything to make you happy, he'll tell jokes or even tell you about his stories without mentioning him torturing cookies ,or just let you hug him. he'll even ask shadow milk cookie yes he found out about you but burning spice threatens him not to say a word for help but we know he's an ass and won't really help

even tho he's a ruthless beast, he'll use soft pet names for you like "sweetheart" "angel" and those fluffy stuff

you call him "my burning fire" or "honey" which makes him so weak against you.

as busy as he is, he'll spend every second he has with you, he just want to be beside you, no matter what.

did i mention he's protective? after all, he doesn't wanna lose you too.

note: this was hard... this cookie is everything but gentle but i guess here you have it! another cookie run request done now i need to write something else or I'll get bored of it...

[yosuk-e]

i find comfort in you; ft. tsukishima

in which the reader finds him dejected after a lost practice match.

a/n: for the request i got today! had a super sudden burst of motivation to write (instead of reviewing for exams yayyy......) so i hope you enjoy this. also, i'm aware this might be a bit ooc for tsukishima, whoops. i was planning for a bokuto & kenma version of this prompt too, so let me know if you'd like that.

tsukishima

kei was never one to sulk about volleyball. you'd known that since he made it painfully clear that no, he does not care about this sport, because it's just a club. a just because, and that it was never going to be anything more than that. he'd been that way about it with basically everything for as long as you two had known each other, and you sometimes wondered whether he genuinely enjoyed anything thoroughly at all, except for maybe you and dino-shaped chicken nuggets.

tonight was different, though.

tonight, tsukishima didn't greet anybody, other than a muffled "i'm home." tonight, kei went straight to his room, in a flurry of frustration both at the fact that they had in fact lost that practice game they were working tirelessly for, but also at the fact that he even cared so much, especially after the many times that he's asserted he doesn't. on an even more concerning note, he's entirely ignored you. left you no message, gave you no call. all which left you with a growing pit of anxiety at the ring background you desperately hoped would illuminate your phone screen, "any moment now..."

6:37PM. you hummed in annoyance at the number. why is it taking him so long to call? is he busy? did something happen? you take a deep breath in an attempt to collect yourself.

ding! you scramble to your bed where you've left your phone to charge.

three new messages - kei

you hurry to read the messages in a rush.

left displeased with the interaction with your boyfriend, you huff. it wasn't abnormal for you and tsukishima to fight. arguing was sort of your love language, even. this was just odd. not an explanation, just a shutdown.

you make up your mind and rush to get dressed. there is no way he's this upset and you can't comfort him about it. you weren't going to let him grow distant when he needs you most, so you dash over to his house, in as little time as possible.

7:23PM. you make it there, standing awkwardly at the door of his room, a pit growing in you. are you overstepping? maybe he just needed some alone time, and you're acting like a pushover? what if-

creak. the door opens, and you're greeted with wide eyes and a soft voice. "yn?" you gulp. how stupid is it that you've been silently standing here for 2 minutes? "uhh... have you just been standing?" tsukishima says, with some slight, but noticeable judgement in his voice. "yeah..."

a smile (so very slightly) appears on his face, as he pulls on your arm gently to let you in the room, his door shutting with a soft click. and you both stare, awkwardly, until you finally begin, "look, i know you wanted to be left alone, but-"

but nothing, because in that same moment, the near 190cm giant you were standing next to leans over, and rests his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around you, leaving no space for movement. "i'm sorry."

"you're sorry? no, kei it's-"

"we lost the game. it was shitty. i'm mad, and i don't want to be. i want to not feel like i cared about this so much, because, well, fuck. it's just a club. it's supposed to be just a club." tsukishima holds you close, in his strong, unrelenting grasp making you feel at home. "we all put a lot of work into it. i put a lot of work into it. shit. it's whatever."

your arms free themselves from his grip gently, making their way to his hair, playing with the soft, blonde strands. "kei..."

"-and it's fucking, damn it. nothing. it was nothing."

you hum encouragingly. tsukishima might've not been the most social, the most outgoing, or the best with words. but for now, for this moment, it was enough.

your hands cup his face to kiss his forehead lightly, and press it against yours, softly saying, "it's okay. you can always tell me."

your evening is filled with rants, rambles, and complaints, but you wouldn't wish for it to be any other way.

a/n: i did NOT proofread this so if you see anything wrong hush.....

[mtchee]

Quiet Comfort - [Gunwoo & Woojin] FEM

blurb:

A day in the life with your two big sweethearts, and some quiet comfort from the usually otherwise obnoxiously burly duo after a long day.

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, fluff, have fun with two giant puppies, poly relationship, use of the term 'jagiya/jagi', mentions of having hair, teasing, if you think they're ooc please let me know i'm trying to get used to writing them, i love them sm frfr

| masterlist | bloodhounds collection |

[2.0k]

"Woojin-ah! Have you seen my jacket?" You call out, head buried deep into your side of the closet.

Gunwoo pops his head in through the doorway instead, "Hm? Oh, I put it in the wash."

"In the wash?" You lean back out with a frown.

"Did you say my name!?"

"Don't mind! Gunwoo, I'm doing a stock run for the cafe. Your mum needs me to go, and it'll be cold," You draw out a whine after calling back to your other boyfriend's distant voice. He's probably splayed out on the living room couch.

Gunwoo's big eyes flicker, his face suddenly downtrodden and you quickly backtrack.

"It's fine. It should only be quick anyway, I'll be inside for the rest of the day."

"I'm sorry," Gunwoo's thick lips form into a big fat pout, his voice apologetically soft and you want to bite him, "you can use one of mine, or Woojin hyung's. If you want."

He shucks off the dark puffy jacket that he's wearing and quickly offers it to you.

Habitually, you open your mouth to decline before hearing the wind whistling through the miniscule gaps in the window. You glance outside. It even looks cold.

"Mm, you're running deliveries today, aren't you?" Your brows pinch in concern, gently pushing outstretched jacket back to his chest.

Gunwoo shakes his head profusely, using both his hands to reinstate his now no-returns offer.

"We're doing some training first. Then we'll start on the deliveries," he assures you, tone much more firm on the fact that the topic regards your wellbeing, "I'll be warmed up before then. And I can pick up the jacket in between runs." He adds onto the end quickly, subtly coercing you to accept his choice.

You take in a breath, assessing him silently.

Gunwoo's sized up, back straight and broad shoulders no longer sagging, as to appear more self assured and resolute. His big puppy eyes once slightly glossed over from your chiding now hardened with a quiet resolve.

You huff through your nose, accepting the oversized puffy jacket with a hidden smile, "...Alright. Thank you, Woo-ah."

You can barely stifle the giddy butterflies you feel when he smiles at you.

Later that day, Woojin gives you the fright of your life while you're on your way back to the cafe.

You scream when a familiar himbo comes barrelling at you from around the corner of the street, tackling you in a semi-sweaty hug.

"JAGIYAAA!"

"Woojin-ah!" You shriek, bracing your arms over your head as the impact with his torso sends you flying. The only thing stopping you from hitting the ground is his eager embrace that quickly follows, catching you and tethering you to him in a tight hug.

"Are you crazy!?"

"Aish~ I missed you," he nuzzles into you obnoxiously, ignorant to any passersby that send you strange looks.

"Yuck!" You can't help but laugh as his nose tickles you behind your ear. You can feel the perspiration glossing the skin of his neck and you grimace, pushing him away with a grin.

"I saw you this morning," you reason when he looks at you, offended.

His brows furrow, "Barely. And it's not the same."

You roll your eyes at him, though you suppose it is thrilling to bump into each other on pure coincidence.

"Did you finish a delivery?"

Woojin nods, "Mm. I'm on my way to the cafe. Gunwoo's going too. We were arguing which street was quicker, but then I saw you."

"Well, then he's definitely winning."

"..."

You laugh when his face drops.

Steam disperses from the bathroom doorway, condensation dripping down the glass of the shower while the mirror over the sink slowly dipleats itself of the fog lining it.

You sit on the bed clad in one of your boyfriends' shirts and a pair of panties, planning on applying your body lotion after drying your hair. With the tub of cream sat beside you, you eye your faint reflection in the window pane, ruffling your towel through your locks.

Your impatience results in the rough fabric lashing against your cheek, and you wince, blinking off the abrupt contact.

A tinge of frustration nips at you before you take in a deep breath to calm you down. It's been a long day, and your little spa routine was a way of helping you unwind.

The day's toll must've been a lot worse than you thought.

You let the towel fall from your head and onto your lap, staring at it blankly. You can feel a flurry of emotions toiling within you, but you don't have the energy to process them fully.

In no time, small unshed tears begin to glisten your lower lash line and you scrunch your nose. Why are you almost crying?

It's not like you haven't had bad days before--and you've definitely had worse.

"Jagi..?"

You don't even hear Gunwoo approach, still staring at your lap tiredly. Gunwoo's brows furrow, and he leans down slightly to peer at you in concern. A small gasp escapes him at the sight of your glossy eyes and wrinkled nose, and he sits himself down beside you.

He parts his lips to say something before thinking better of it, he watches you for a moment longer, thinking to himself quietly before gently prying the towel from your weak hands.

"Here, jagi. Let me do this for you." His voice is tender, patient and coaxing as he shifts his torso to face your back, and he starts to dry your hair for you.

The only response he garners is a soft sigh while you lean your head back at his careful touch. Your quiet acceptance has him smiling gratefully.

He's a little clumsy with his large hands, but he's mindful of his strength, and gets the job done.

Eventually, Woojin wanders into the room from the kitchen after wondering where his two partners disappeared to.

"Hey, do we want--" he stops short when Gunwoo whips around and shakes his head at him. Woojin narrows his eyes at him, and the younger motions his eyes towards you, and then he understands.

"--A-Ah... okay," he's quiet, taking a few more steps inside the room until he's stood in front of you. He crouches down, hands seeking purchase on your knees and he tilts his head to meet your vacant gaze.

He murmurs your name softly in a song like tune, "How are you feeling, hm?"

Gunwoo's activity ceases as he waits for you to speak.

You match his eyes with a little bit more life in them, feeling more soothed than frustrated now.

"Tired.."

"Yeah?" Woojin spies the tub of lotion by your thigh and nods towards it, "can I do that for you?"

Your eyes flutter in a soft blink, and he waits patiently. You look at the body lotion and then slowly draw your gaze back to your lap again. A sudden embarrassed heat crawls up your neck at the state of you: hair damp and body hunched, braless in an oversized shirt that hides your underwear from view with your naked legs on display.

"A-Ah..." you hesitate, lips parted unsurely. Suddenly bashful, you look over your shoulder at Gunwoo who blinks and gives you a light, unassuming smile.

You look back at Woojin, who's gaze never left your deliberating form. He rubs his thumb across your left knee comfortingly, eyes kind.

A soft breath escapes you, and you feel oddly reassured by them. Despite the mild fluster you feel at the intimacy of their attention, you nod and give and affirming hum.

He doesn't take that though. He wants to hear you.

With a gentle squeeze on your soft thigh, Woojin purses his lips and looks at you expectantly, though the upward twitch of his lips indicates his playfulness.

You whine, diverting your gaze shyly as you lean back against Gunwoo who chuckles at you. You look up at him for help, but scoff quietly in receiving none, and so you speak.

"Okay..."

Woojin beams, all crescent eyed and white teeth, "Thank you, jagiya~"

He reaches for the tub, unscrewing the lid and scooping up an appropriate amount for application--he's watched you do this a good few times now after all.

After lathering his hands, he starts with your right leg. Shifting so he's bent on one knee, he prompts you to lean your weight against Gunwoo while he rests your foot against his knee, big hands massaging the lotion into your skin.

Although his touch is innocent, you can't help but squirm nervously when his palms stroke up your thigh, and he grins.

He handles you firmly, placing pressure on all the right places that have you sighing in relief. Gunwoo starts playing with strands of your hair, even leaning down to place a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear.

"Feel better..?" He lets out a happy hum when you nod lazily.

Woojin finishes by lightly tickling the sole of your foot, grinning when you squeal and try to jerk away. He relents, letting out tug it out of his grasp before he taps your other leg, giving it the same treatment.

All too soon is it over, and Woojin places a teasing kiss on your shin with a squeeze to your thigh when you pout. You cringe at the tingling sensation it causes, slapping his hand away while he laughs at you.

The rest of your hair would be fine to air dry now, so when you flick the end of the towel away from you Gunwoo takes it, blowing against your neck playfully before he moves to put the towel away.

You can't help but watch after him endearingly. To be loved is to be known, and both Gunwoo and Woojin have done more than you could've ever asked for, and that's not just on accounts of that night.

They always taken care of you, always looking out for you: by walking you to and from places, to treating you out, checking in on you during times when you're separated, spoiling you whenever they can for no reason other than just because--they've done it all.

And you couldn't be anymore grateful.

The slightly open window allows a sharp evening breeze to graze across your bare skin, and you shiver.

Woojin perks up, "Ah, are you cold?"

Having heard from the bathroom, Gunwoo comes back, immediately rifling threw the dresser drawers while you answer the other with a nod.

Spying the goosebumps across your legs, Woojin runs a warm palm over them twice before feeling a breeze on the back of his head, and he clocks on.

"My turn!"

With the older standing up and closing the window, Gunwoo quickly slams the drawers shut and steals his spot in front of you.

You sit up, startled at the sudden movement, giggling when Woojin whirls around at the claim with an offended guffaw.

Gunwoo kneels in front of you this time, a pair of rolled up fuzzy socks in his hand while he tugs you closer to him. You laugh as you're pulled across the bed covers, the comforter bunching up messily.

Gunwoo's eyes crinkle at the sound of your laughter, and he unfurls the socks before slipping them over your feet. It goes about halfway up your shins, keeping your toes nice and warm and you hum contently.

Like Woojin did earlier, he runs his big hands over the rest of your exposed skin, smoothing down your cold caused bumps with his natural warmth. He tugs down your shirt so it covers your lower half a bit more modestly, though you notice he can't help but sneak in a quick squeeze on your hip.

His ears are a bit red, otherwise he smiles at you unaffectedly.

"Yah," Woojin claps him on the shoulder chidingly, though his tone is light hearted, "no fair. I saw that, you sneak."

"Hyung..." Gunwoo whines.

You can't help but grin at them, heart swelling with an incogitable fondness for your two big puppies. Any prior distress thoroughly dispelled thanks to the loving care of your two partners.

And you couldn't ask for more.

[iratempestatis]

did someone ask for... XIAO REQUESTS??

*manifests in a purple glowy glittery cloud from a magic circle on the floor*

I have been summoned.

What about a scenario where Xiao is trying to get a gift for his s/o? have him not only maybe trying to craft something, maybe he wants the gift to be so perfect he goes around Liyue and the harbor to find the best wrappings, the best ribbons and the best snacks to go along with his gift?

Xiao SOOOO needs more fics these days 😩

"For You."

Xiao x gn!reader, 4k words.

Just a bunch of fluff, Xiao might be a liiiitle bit ooc but I tried my best <3. I had way too much writing this lmao, it's vv self indulgent. It did diverge a teensy bit from how exactly you wanted, anon, but I hope you still like it <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks!

Xiao remembers the first time he got you a present.

It was nothing, really. You mentioned needing violetgrass to finish a commission one day. It'd made Xiao wonder why exactly an adventurer would need a medicinal herb in such large quantities, but he hadn't known you for long, so he didn't bother to figure out why.

You didn't talk to him much back then- only really knowing him because you were forced (yes, you!) to cohabitate with him while you found a residence in the harbor.

You were impetuous- not of faith and certainly not respectful, and it irked you massively when he'd step away whenever you greeted him, or silently turn his back on you and vanish. He didn't quite know how to articulate why without venting his frustrations to a stranger, so he never did.

He remembers you being violently sick during the colder months and still stubbornly trying to yank your bags out of a friend's arms, furiously sniffing and telling them you needed to do this.

Xiao knew for a fact you were diligent with your commissions- you liked Mora and you liked being comfortable. It couldn't be rent. He couldn't help but puzzle about it for hours, tucked away in the soft, cool damp trees on Wuwang hill until your shriek broke him out of his reverie.

After abruptly appearing before you (and scaring you more than half to death), as well as many hours of hunting the elusive herb made even more elusive by the chill, you had a nice basketful by evening.

“I wanted two,” he remembers you saying ruefully. He can't remember what you wore or even what you'd sounded like. Or if that was even what you'd said. But he remembers knowing you needed two basketfuls somehow, and you only had one, and your eyelids weighed down by disappointment, and the press of your lips.

He remembers putting a second basket in your balcony by dawn, and he remembers feeling a sudden rush of fondness when he found out you did it unexpectedly for a sick Baizhu, without his knowledge, expecting no fee. He remembers talking to you more when you lunged out of the shadows at Wangshu inn, to grab his arm and beam and thank him. He remembers the first time he touched you on his own- fingers gingerly reaching forward to pluck a piece of thread off your face. He remembers you disappearing for months on a long mission, only to return home and run straight into his arms, your newest glider fluttering on your back. Right there in his arms. He doesn't remember breathing. He remembers the way your fingers felt when they brushed against his in that moment, for the very first time. He remembers you asking if you could hug him, “just for a moment please,” and he remembers scoffing in surprise, then quickly saying yes.

But for the love of- god? Which god? He was a god and he didn't love himself too much. Morax? For the love of Morax, then, why couldn't he remember the things you liked?

He remembers everything you like and nothing all at once. Books? You have them. Brushes? Clothes? Would you even wear what he bought you? What if it wasn't your style? What if- maybe a bag? No, you never used bags you didn't buy. Something about the quality of the fabric. A handbag? Would you use it often? Probably not. Another glider? A glider made of his feathers, perhaps? Dear god no, that would be. Alarming. Snacks? You'd eat them. They're an addition, not the present itself. Furniture? A body pillow? You mentioned wanting a Ningguang body pillow. What the fuck is a body pillow?

He bites back the urge to throw his almond tofu at the wall. A gift for someone so precious must be one of equal value– but really, what could compare to your smiles, or the way you veered into him on walks, or the way you’d stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Or your adorably frustrated expression when your cooking turned out not quite right? Every minute spent with you was spent carefully watching, memorising. He couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting even the smallest details.

He remembers his first gift to you- a silver hairpin, laden with heavy flowers of jade and quartz that chinked against one another at the slightest movement. He remembers the the way your eyes widened when you unwrapped it.

It frustrated him.

You were pleased with all his presents- you never seemed to prefer one over the other. The amulet he brought to protect you? With you in a pouch on every commission. The hairpin? You wore it on special occasions. The crystalflies he caught you on a whim were kept in a pretty glass container on your bedside table. You kept the flowers he brought you for months until even their potpourri turned to dust. What did you like better?

He swears by the skies he’s never been more frustrated- or desperate.

Your birthday draws closer by the minute and he’s determined to be the first to give you a present, even if it means… talking to people.

✦—————————————✦

He wishes Verr Goldet would stop looking so… Astonished. He knows he should be working! He’ll get to it right after he acquires your present… which would be?

“Perhaps- perhaps perfume?” she suggests, finally regaining composure. “They mentioned being fond of perfumes, although they usually don’t quite use it. Also…” She hesitates, then shakes her head with a smile. “It is good to see you home.”

He’s startled- he can’t help being so, not when she’s giving him such a sincere smile (that he unknowingly softly returns.) Strange mortal. Thanking her, he leaps off the balcony rails, unfurling wings of teal and gold. Perfume. Not the most inspired gift, but perhaps he’d come across something at the harbour?

✦—————————————✦

He does, unfortunately, come across something at the harbour. It’s an annoying little something (endearing on the days he feels more patient), slightly tall, vaguely maniacal. In a fun way.

Hu Tao has dragged him across every stupid stall on the northern side of the harbour. They’ve seen all sorts of absurd fish (even ones he thought were long extinct, good for them- or perhaps not, since they were soon to be a meal), clothes, china, children’s toys (he’s pretty sure you’d like the fat finch carving actually, so he gets it) and… perfume?

Hu Tao beams as she gestures to the man lounging in a corner of the harbour, asleep with an arm thrown over his wares. The wares happen to be several exquisite (regrettably empty) bottles.

He blinks. “Where is the perfume?”

“Huh? You want me to get you that, too?” A fly lands on her face and she swats it away. “I don’t really know where to get one you’d like. What sort of smells do you like? Can you even smell? I thought birds couldn’t smell?”

He sighs at the cascade of questions. “Some can’t, some ca- you digress.”

“Fine, but listen- aren’t the bottles so pretty?” She reaches for one and he’s forced to admit they are. The one in her hand is fashioned to mimic a gently sloped, round rock, with qingxin flowers acting as the lid. A bit unorthodox, but charming. “You can put whatever you want inside! Plus you told me you wanted a bottle of perfume, not a bottle with perfume-“

Well.

✦—————————————✦

That’s two gifts and neither is as he wants, nor perhaps as you’d want. He thinks back to the gifts you’ve given him- so intricate, so thoughtful. The best gift is still you, though, and the time he spends with you is enough to wash away years of anguish. When you fall asleep in his arms, the tension within him comes undone. This world has never treated him well, but its one benefaction was the vision hanging at your hip. He can’t help but trace it gently with his fingers, running his hands up and down your waist, so, so lightly. He’s grateful.

He wishes he could gift you even a fraction of the joy you bring him.

A whistle snaps him out of his thoughts. Yelan lowers herself to sit next to him on the cool stone steps going down to the harbour. Where did she come from? Was that blood-

“Soup. Tomato soup.” She pops the ‘p’ as she speaks. He can smell the blood. “No worries.” He does worry. She laughs when she sees his face. “It’s not mine, relax. What brings our hermit adeptus to the harbour?”

She reaches for the bag of purchases in his hands as he explains. “I’m here to get (Name) a present.” She turns the finch around in her hands, amused, and he continues. “I’m yet to come across anything significant. Do you have any… recommendations?”

Yelan tsks and stares at the hubbub below, deliberating. Xiao glances at the luxurious fur on her jacket rustle gently in the breeze and wonders how they ever became friends. His advent into the Chasm… well, he truly did think he would die, but he instead returned with closure and absurd company.

More or less anyway- Yelan is too busy to come visit frequently, but she’ll sometimes call him for no reason. To sample some dessert she bought, or to tell him a mundane story. He suspects it’s so she can keep an eye on his health. Sometimes, in his nightmares, he sees her stricken face when he teleported her out the Chasm, when she thought he’d never return.

“What are you thinking?” She raises an eyebrow. “It had better be something productive, not daydreams of (Name).”

“Those are productive,” he counters. “But forget it… suggestions?”

“Maybe jewellery?” She stands up and dusts herself off. “It’s a little cliché, but never a fail. And probably some perfume to put into that bottle… which I will go get, because… no. Actually, you should come too.” She grins.

✦—————————————✦

He’s never talking to Yelan again. The shop she suggested had some lovely ear cuffs, shaped like wings and flowers, clouds and daggers. Pretty. He got you a few pairs, which the shopkeeper seemed delighted about. Were they expensive, by mortal standards?

He peeks into the bag and watches them glitter through the glass case. Probably.

The thought of you wearing them makes him feel a bit lightheaded. You’re always at the very zenith of loveliness, so it always astounds him to see you turn more and more beautiful by the day. The ear cuffs would accentuate your charm wonderfully. He grins at the thought, then painedly coughs, recalling Ying’er. By Morax, she made him profoundly uncomfortable, then compounded that discomfort with every passing minute. Yelan found it hilarious and he admits, only to himself, he’d find it equally amusing if it was someone else in his place.

In any case, he now has a rather large bag of presents. A fat finch, jewellery, a pretty bottle containing gentle perfume extracted from the flowers of your hometown (he’s so proud of expertly dodging Ying’er’s questions on how he got them) and-? A coffin keychain?

He sighs and keeps it.

While he has all these offerings present for the god that reigns supreme in his heart… there is no centrepiece, no special present. When he asks Yanfei and Ping, they glance at one another and gleefully suggest a wedding ring, to which he gives a forceful no. He’d never want to make you celebrate two things in one day- after all, that’s one less day of merrymaking.

✦—————————————✦

Liyue Harbour looks so pretty in the night.

You remember a friend of yours telling you something once. Liyue Harbour makes you feel melancholy on the bad days, and warm on the good. She was right.

Sometimes, you have trouble deciphering what exactly it is that you’re feeling. And sometimes, you have trouble facing your feelings altogether.

As you trod through the gates facing Mt. Tianheng, you feel a pit softly open through in your chest. Inside of you, something stays deathly still, trying to ignore it, even as soft, powdery tendrils attempt to coax you inside.

It’s two in the morning, and it is also your birthday.

The shops and stalls are nearly all closed, with only some taverns open late into the night. They’ll close soon enough too, though. If you crane your neck enough, you know you’ll catch a view of the Pearl Galley, radiant and luxurious, a warm spot on the cool waves.

Sometimes Xiao walks you home after a long day. He’ll pause on the road while you receive your commission Mora from Katheryne, and you go take a walk along the harbour, buying groceries for dinner, him sighing as you find and inhale the unhealthiest snacks you can contrive, and scoffing when you offer them to him- even though there’s no force behind it.

And sometimes you sit on the edge of the port, watching the Pearl Galley take gentle laps around the port. Amusedly trying (and failing) to take a peek inside, wondering which socialite paid the lovely maidens aboard a visit.

But there’s no Xiao here today. He hasn’t visited in a while, and it’s your birthday.

You blink rapidly, eyes stinging. It’s okay. Birthdays happen every year and you’re not a child, you’re just tired after a long day.

“And besides.” You pat a stray dog as you walk past it to your home. “It’s so late. He’ll hopefully remember and wish me tomorrow?”

She answers with a whine and a wag of her tail. You chuckle.

“Stay right here. I’ll get you something.” You blow it a kiss, your temper buoyant once more. It’s so late, you can’t expect Xiao to-

“I already fed her.”

You nearly stumble (curse those mountains, your muscles are so goddamn sore) with how fast you whirl to face him. He’s right there, in soft, loose clothes. The lights inside the house come on as he gives your baffled face the smallest, softest of smiles. “Happy birthday, (Name).”

You bark a laugh as you rush into his arms.

✦—————————————✦

You’re not sure what exactly you did for this world to give you Xiao, the most beautiful of creatures, kindest of people, gentlest of hearts. You used to think his distance and clipped sentences were an armour worn to protect his jaded heart from the world. You were heartbroken yet skeptical when Wang Ping’an told you of it being the opposite- that he cares deeply for his people and is devoted to his duty. That he has much love to give, but never could on account of his karmic debt.

You don’t know what you’d do if not for your vision.

Xiao’s firm, calloused fingers softly massage your scalp. He offered to help you wash your hair when you mentioned being too tired and sore to do it on your own, so you’re now in your bathroom seated on a stool as he does it for you. One hand reaches down gently to prevent the foam from entering your eye as you ramble on about the day you’ve had. He frowns when you tell him you got nearly killed by a treasure hoarder, then looks almost impressed when he hears you befriended the schmuck.

“And he’s not a bad guy, really.” You boop his nose gently with a wet finger and it scrunches slightly. “He just didn’t have a choice, y’know? Anyway, I told him I’d help him get a job. He’s gonna stay over until he gets back on his feet, so be nice when you see him, okay?”

Xiao blinks rapidly. His eyelashes are so pretty. “Wait- are you certain you can trust him? Tilt your head back.”

You tip your head back and explain as he rinses your hair. “He’s just a kid, really. He’s new to this treasure hoarder schtick. And it should be fine, right? I’ll keep the valuables locked and let him have the guest room. Poor kid, do you think he’ll be able to wait on people? Maybe I could convince Chef Mao?

“He has his hands full with Shenhe.” Xiao snorts. “I don’t think he can take any more. Although if you want… I could take the child to Wangshu Inn with me. Perhaps he could assist Huai’an.”

You gasp in delight and beam at him. You swear you see his pupils dilate. “You’d do that for him?”

“For you.”

✦—————————————✦

Dinner was pleasant- all you could focus was inhaling anything and everything remotely edible present on the table. You were ravenous.

Even so, you couldn’t help but notice the anticipatory looks Xiao gave you, the little taps of his clawed fingers on the table. He didn’t say a word as you finished your meal. Just looked at you gently with those luminous golden eyes.

Stamping down your excitement was difficult despite your exhaustion. There was something Xiao was keeping under wraps, you could tell- he was just a bit unravelled, just the tiniest bit. Lips parted in slight anticipation, pupils dilated like a parakeets.

You look at one another across the table and he abruptly blinks and rises up, taking the dishes with him. Putting them in the sink, he turns to you slowly. You hear the dog bark at something outside, the clatter of her claws across the pavement but it feels as though she’s on land, with you underwater. When did Xiao get so close?

Your breath leaves you as his talon tipped fingers gently cradle your face, stroke your cheek. He laces his fingers with yours and brings them to his mouth for a kiss.

“Do you wish to rest?” He asks gently. As if he didn’t just rob you of your ability to form coherent sentences. “I had some presents prepared for you, but it’ll be morning soon. You ought to rest.”

Aha. So that was what he wanted to show you. He looks so shy at the mention of gifts- long eyelashes lowered, lips pressed together that you can’t resist beaming and landing a soft kiss on his cheek. He exhales.

“I want to see them now.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling, too. “Very well.”

He gestures for you to walk on ahead to your room and you do, sprinting across the hallway, invigorated at the prospect of- what.

Your bed is laden with presents.

It looks almost like an offering table- there are flowers interspersed among the gifts- an exquisite bottle of perfume is the first to catch your eye and you excitedly hold it to your nose. It smells like your favourite flowers. You turn to beam at him and he turns away, pink eared, and gestures to the rest.

There’s a coffin keychain (huh?), a fat finch carving the size of your face (you’ll cherish and protect that thing with your life), multiple small, velvety boxes with glass covers (you nearly scream. Is that the Mingxing jewellery crest? How expensive was this?) and something covered by a soft square of fabric, right in the centre.

It’s a feast for the eyes, you giddily think, taking everything in. You’ll definitely need to have a talk with Xiao about the expense- good lord, that ear cuff is embedded with three different jewels- but for now, you heart is so full you feel it’ll burst at the seems. And as you lift up the cloth to uncover what’s beneath, you’re very certain you’ll weep if you’re not too careful.

It's a box, made perhaps of wood, standing on elegant coral legs. With gems or resin or more coral, you can’t tell- there's a picture composed upon it, with you clinging to the side of a mountain before it, and Xiao right behind, holding out his fingers to receive what you hand to him. There’s the sunset too, behind both of you- a gorgeous mess of pink, white and scarlet, gold rays streaking across it, from the setting sun into the lavender dusk beyond.

It’s a bit roughly hewn, but it’s beautiful, and it’s yours.

It’s the day you really talked to one another for the first time, the start of something so precious to you that even the mere thought of losing it makes your heart physically ache.

You really are going to cry.

Turning to Xiao, you see the soft, anxious look in his eyes as he tries to gauge your reaction. He parts his lips to say something, but stops to let you go first. You shake your head and ask him to speak.

“I… am aware of it not being the best of presents.” (You wonder if he smacked his head into something today.) “It is… a box.” He coughs, glancing away, then faces you again and now you truly are in danger of bawling, with the way he’s looking at you. You bite your tongue and blink rapidly. Xiao gives you a rueful smile as he continues.

“I thought for a long time, but couldn’t fathom what you’d want most. I did not know what would constitute as a good present- but I remembered… when we first talked for length. Your unpaid commission. I’m grateful to Baizhu, for falling ill… I could never have dreamed myself capable of feeling such joy. Because of you.

“I just…” he trails off, eyes widening as the tears slip past your lashes, down your cheeks (traitors, they’re making such a fuss). He’s before you in an instant, cupping your face, drawing you closer, forehead pressed to yours. “I wanted to give you something to put your treasures in, where they could be safe. And I wanted to remind you… I will appear, no matter the circumstances, the moment you call for me.”

Your chest hurts.

“And,” he whispers, “if your burdens grow too heavy, simply turn around. Place them in my hands. I will carry them until you can once more. Just as you have done for me.”

And all you can do, really, is tell him you love him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping him in a giant embrace. He jumps, then laugh, large wings and slender arms wrapping around you.

It’s morning by the time you finally fall asleep, presents on one side of your bed and you on the other, after listening to Xiao recount his day at the harbour. You snicker at his conversation with the Boss, laugh when you hear of Hu Tao’s shenanigans, cackle hysterically when he shakes his head in embarrassment and tells you of his time spent with Ying’er and Yelan.

But when he tells you of his conversation with Ping and Yanfei, eyes softening, wings tightening around you- of the time he spent bringing the box into being, with their help and his very own hands- you can’t help but get teary eyed once more. Wrapping your fingers around his, you bring them to your mouth to kiss every fingertip, each kiss interspersed with a whispered “I love you,” that he returns with a quiet, fervent murmur of his own.

As you both begin to doze off in one another’s arms, you hear finches in the distance, awakening before even the dawn. You trace your fingers over his face, gently, gently and kiss his cheek.

You wish you could articulate what he means to you- and what his efforts meant to you.

His presents were nothing in the face of his company, and his company nothing in the face of his happiness.

More than anything, your heart is full at the thought of Xiao- free of his duties for even just a day, meeting with friends to contrive a present for you. That he spent time with them, amused himself with their shenanigans, fell prey to their mischief. That he had a mundane day at the harbour.

By Morax, you love him. Perhaps next week you’ll clear out your schedule, and ask him to take you with him on another.

[askoverkill]

// ooc, but I actually wanted to just point ou some details that I think will be important, or that I just really enjoyed seeing?

1) Lupus is actually forgetting more than just island memories, but seems to be forgetting when Dawn gets too hurt - or just emotionally distressing situations. Like, Lupus was there when Dawn was poisoned by cyanide and yet when everything came back didn't seem shaken by it. And when Dawn was coughing up too much blood and Lupus saw it, they were distressed, but soon a "forget sprite"/ sprite w/ two black stars came and they were questioning why there was blood. Maybe it's some kind of curse? Since the curses seem just Siffrins inner struggles related to the loops manifested in some way (like the ISAT bathroom monologue on ACT 4 where he says "THE WORLD SHOULD HAVE TO SUFFER LIKE YOU DID" or something). Or maybe it's just the Universe? But it really feels important to understand Lupus and their future role in the story more here, since they are seeing the loops firsthand but with a watered down version of it all.

2) I also really like the fact that when we get Lupus drawings they always draw swirly cheeks! The same way the Directors cheek is drawn on their face!!! Because it's part of their artstyle in a way and I think it's cute!!! And also sad because Lupus and Director have really big design similarities, and maybe that gets me because yeah... Something something you never let go of your inner child they become part of you.... Something

3) It is absolutely hilarious to me that ALL Siffrins are wearing heels. Specifically white ones. The only one that breaks this rule is Lupus but still. They may be walking straight into hell or be the hell themselves but they are walking there with their click clacks on the floor!!!!

4) Have I commented on how I really like the fact that Dawn's and Dusks design are complementary opposites in every ways and I think that's so cool because yes they are opposites but they are still fundamentally Siffrins.

5) Stupid Rotten Adults parallel killed me also. Like not even the one with Lupus but the one with Dawn that just occurred where he asks Mira if she really believes that. Looked like Bonnie asking Frin if they were sure. Killed me instantly.

6) Hoo boy I can't shut up but there are so many small details sneaked into this that I just can't stop writing!!! Your writing of the characters is just so so so good. I love it.

// bashfully plays with my hair~ thank you for enjoying the story and taking note of details.

// Lupus doesn't get heels because they're still wearing their islander clothes, or what they've replaced while on the road. Baby too young for heels, gotta have good support while growing!!!

// it must be extra nice for them too, to finally be walking around on their feet.

[lcfthaunted]

Come one, come all, to the grand opening of the Split River High School rpc server! A fun, chill place to hang out, have fun, and chat with your fellow Bandits (or Devils?) about the goings-on at school. We've got a channel for pets, we've got an opt-in channel for show salt, we've even got a channel to arrange some IC shenanigans, if that's your thing. Get your tickets here!

React to the rules to get your role and open the rest of the server! promo credit.

[pinkaditty]

UGH I love love love ur Hc’s it like you literally came straight out of the game ^^ although jiro doesn’t get much time to sit down or relax in general sometimes tells me he’d like cockwarming

well yes obviously!!! this way he wouldn't have 2 move around much... ALSO TYYYYY this is the best compliment i could get in reference 2 hcs i think... like it's so good it's like i came out the game fr?!?!? amen!!!!! (hc's are here! unfinished, but being worked on)

a/n: well. im back. i know what i said but... i needed 2 write. the worms are inescapable... im working on a romance fic (sho haizono x reader) in the bg bc I need 2 post something fluffy... just this once... ANYWAYS this is short 4 my own sanity I fear. sorry! ill write more jiro next time I promise. he was gonna be my next smut victim anyway (after haru!). also please let me know if i wrote jiro ooc... i have an odd feeling i may have gotten something wrong here.

summary: jiro's resting. you can't stay put.

cw: cockwarming! and discussion about penis length, i guess? it was funny 2 put that in there. sorry. i love human anatomy i fear it's the coolest thing ever 2 me. ALSO MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

You squirm for the hundredth time, squeezing your walls tight around Jiro's hardened length. He snaps his eyes open and looks down at you sitting in his lap. You can't tell if he's disappointed, tired, or neutral. The only signs he's enjoying himself are his clouded gaze, wavering expression, and cherry red blush across his cheeks. You didn't understand how he was "relaxing" like this, but somehow he made it work. He sighs, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. He reaches for your back and pulls you into his chest, and you shiver from feeling him twitch inside you. "You really should relax." His low voice is as expressionless as ever and masterfully hides the arousal he feels, the evidence of which is plastered all over his face.

"You're... A bit too long for that, Jiro." You try to say it jokingly, but your words are overshadowed by your groan as you try to settle yourself, only to end up spearing yourself further on his impressive length. He's silent for a moment before he strokes your back gently, as though apologizing. You ramble on. "I mean, I knew it was rumored that taller guys had longer dicks, but I didn't know that it was actually true—"

"It's not." Jiro pauses his hand movements, looking down at you again. "It's an unreliable method to use one's height alone to determine length, and the correlation that has been found is too weak to assume accuracy." His smile had faded at some point, returning to his usual stoic expression. His blush has not faded, however, and his pupils were blown wide.

"Okay..." You hold out your words, looking up at him curiously. You pull away from his chest, suppressing a moan as he twitches inside of you again. You grip his shoulders, steadying yourself, and his hands settle on your hips. His lips part as he pants, his breathing quickening. Once the dizzy pleasure in your head fades a bit, you shake your head and look up at him. "So, I'm curious. Is there a way to predict penis length?"

Jiro looks off to the side, in thought, somehow still holding it together better than you were. His cheeks were still flushed, his lips still parted with heavy breaths, but not much past that. He wasn't even sweating, remaining calm despite buried to the hilt inside your cunt. You had to admit, it was impressive. "Yes; if I remember correctly, there's a stronger, more reliable correlation between the respective difference in lengths between your pointer and ring fingers and estimated penis length." He looks back to you, bored voice matching his expression if not for that expressive blush. "It's stronger than both height and shoe size correlation, so it's more likely for someone with a larger difference in the lengths of those fingers to have a larger size."

You hardly even think about it, lifting one of his hands from your hips as he was talking. You analyze the length of his ring finger in comparison to his pointer finger, only to find not much of a difference. You almost feel disappointed for a few moments, before Jiro's laughter shakes you out of your thoughts. He squeezes your hip tighter with his free hand, still laughing. He shakes just slightly as he laughs, causing minor friction of his length against your walls. You let go of his hand and press your palms into his shoulders, suppressing your moans. "Jiro!" You press your palms into his shoulders harder. His laughter slows to a soft chuckle, and he returns his other hand to your hip, steadying you, pressing his hips upwards into you. He huffs out a breath, a slight groan escaping his throat as he does. His eyes darken for a split second as he gazes at where your bodies connect before he lifts his gaze to you again, soft smile on his face.

"You should've seen how disappointed you'd looked." He said, breathy chuckles escaping him as he lifted one of his hands, displaying the minimal difference in length between his pointer and ring finger. "I said it was likely, not that a large difference in length would always be indicative of longer lengths. And, I have long fingers." He returned his hand to your hip again, sounding as bored as ever, but with a small smile stuck on his face.

"There ought to be an easier way to figure this out." You muse, leaning towards him slightly, careful not to cause too much friction.

"There isn't," he states flatly, looking at you with an amused expression. "The best way to predict length would be via a combination of ethnicity, height, shoe size, and the difference between lengths of the pointer and ring fingers. Studies have been tried prior simply by asking, but those values tend to be exaggerated." You notice his voice begins to waver slightly, his lips remaining parted even when he's finished talking. He swallows thickly, leaning back against the chair, gripping your hips a little tighter.

You don't bother suppressing the surge of pride that runs through you as he visibly melts under you, clearly letting the sensation of your walls clinging to his cock get to his mind. "Someone's melting," you say teasingly, pressing a finger to the center of his forehead. He blinks at you a few times, as though attempting to clear the pleasurable haze.

"You squeeze when you're focused or engaged in conversation." He speaks quickly, his breathing getting heavier. He blinks multiple times, staring down at you. "Your squeezing makes it hard to relax."

"Aw, sorry big guy." You huff out a short laugh, leaning towards him, watching his eyes as they cloud further with lust.

He sighs, as though resigning. "Have we talked enough for you to relax?" He sounded like an actual doctor, his voice flat and formal despite his seemingly hazy expression.

You nod, deciding to let him rest, as he'd wanted. He wordlessly moves one of his hands to your back, pushing you towards him. You lay against his chest again, exhaling and melting into his body as he melted into you. You look up, watching as his eyes slide shut again. He rubs gentle circles on your thigh with his thumb, keeping his palm on your hip.

You're comfortable... at least, until his cock twitches again.

a/n: jiro, at last. i am. kind of worried i wrote him a bit ooc and maybe went in too hard with my bio stuff. idk. i hope it's good regardless.

note that i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs! please, tell me all about how you enjoyed my work!! it keeps me going!

@rottenzombrainz i believe this is ur man unless im mistaken

[mm-lurking]

Malfunction: Heart Mode - Boothill

Based on this post. fem reader. Praying this is not ooc. Writing is kinda choppy, I tried my best. 1.6k words. tag: @nvuy hope you like it -- Boothill is one strong muddle-fudger. He does not give a rat's behind when it comes to romantic love, affection, and all that fudging nonsense. Even if it has crossed his mind, he's too busy dealing with the forking problems of the cosmos and most importantly trying to find that son of a nice lady who is responsible for killing his sweet angel and destroying his planet.

Yet here he is, standing in front of you at the bar with a drink in his hand as he hears his machine heart starting to whir. You both were regulars at the bar and often ran into each other from time to time. Your encounters were akin to something like being seatmates; there was enough information exchanged to know about each other yet it was nothing personal. While you didn't quite understand why he would disappear for long periods before returning like nothing happened, you never questioned it and were simply happy to see him again.

He too liked meeting up with you. He couldn't help but flash his razor-sharp teeth whenever he saw you; calling you “partner!” out loud before greeting you and asking how you had been. The little interactions you both had were always a pleasure and as time passed, he seemed to grow more attached to seeing you.

Today was a little different. Compared to your usual outfit, you were dressed up all fancy and the more he looked at you, the louder the whirring of his heart got.

"Fudge."

He mutters under his breath. You look at him inquisitively as he turns his head sideways and sighs.

"Something the matter Boothill?" "It's nothing partner."

You watch as he chugs down his glass and sets the empty vessel down on the bar counter before ordering more.

"I haven't even finished my first drink yet and you're already done?"

You laugh a little as you take a sip of your drink. The dim lights of the bar made your jewellery glow and alongside the reflections of other shiny things, you looked heavenly in his eyes. He doesn’t answer so you look over and find him dazed.

"Boothill...? Um, do you need some space?" "Fudge!"

He can't help but say it out loud this time, covering his face as he scrunches his eyebrows and frowns. This was not how he normally behaved. What in the hot diggity fudge was going on with him?

"Yes- I mean no, ugh fork me!"

You stand there confused (and slightly amused) at how he seems to be fighting himself like a madman. He almost looked possessed from how he kept going back and forth with himself as if he was surprised at what he was saying. Like his tongue wasn't his own.

"I'll give you some space."

The last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself or those around him. You finally decide to leave just to make sure everything's alright only for him to grab your arm and then quickly let go in shock.

"Sorry 'bout that partner.”

Boothill awkwardly apologises for his unusual behaviour. Before you can reply, a drunk accidentally pushes you from behind and you lose your balance causing you to fall straight into his arms.

“I-!?” “Um…?!”

Both of you are speechless. He swiftly holds your waist with one hand while the other firmly holds onto malt juice. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders from the fear of falling. No coherent thought is spoken but the flustered look on your faces has got some of the bar regulars around you giggling.

You don’t even hear the apology of the one who accidentally pushed you. It's as if time has slowed down and nothing exists outside you both. Strangely, he doesn’t let you go and you don’t move either making things even more awkward.

The strong alcohol you were sipping on makes you tipsy and somehow gives you the courage to lift your head and gaze into Boothill's unique eyes. You've always admired how dashing he looks; from his physique to his dressing style and even his interesting way of speaking. And now here you were up close, staring disrespectfully at his face and how handsome he looked.

Boothill is no different either, he's gazing at you hesitantly as he tries to find something to say but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is-

“Fudge me…” “I'm sure the ladies at the ranch think about that regularly.”

You mumble without thinking and he tenses up.

“I- what?!”

He stutters as his cheeks turn slightly red and his eyes widen.

“Uh?! Nothing!”

You mentally slap yourself for blurting that out loud. Even if it was true, why did you have to say it and make things awkward? Come on! You both were having a somewhat endearingly awkward time together! 

You attempt to conjure up something to smooth things over but your thinking is disrupted by a strangely loud machine sound that seems to be coming from nearby. The whoosh is accompanied by irregular beeping sounds, almost like one of those technology things Boothill had told you about. 

You glance around to see if you can find the source only to realise-

It’s coming from Boothill.

“Oh.” You whisper under your breath but the cyborg (who still doesn't let you go nor drinks his beverage and is as still as a statue for some reason) hears you loud and clear.

“Something the matter, pretty lady?” “Yes. Do you plan on us staying in this position until the bar closes?”

Instead of answering his question, you deflect it with another. He turns red again and stammers badly which makes you giggle and further confirms your theory.

“Gotcha.”

Before Boothill can ask what you’re doing, you slowly drag your hands down his shoulders until they rest on his chest. You feel the rapid whirring of his heart through the vibrations it emits through your fingertips. A tiny smirk spreads on your face and you look back at him.

“You’re pretty cute.”

You flirtatiously speak. The look of confusion and embarrassment on his face makes you laugh harder.

“What- hey what- I-”

Boothill’s stammering only gets worse alongside the overheating of his heart. He tries to reply with a snarky comment but the only thing he’s capable of doing is squeezing your waist harder and propping himself up with the bar counter to avoid falling. You, being the woman you are, do not stop the teasing.

“You can’t handle affection, can you? Look at you sweet thing, your heart is overworking and your synesthesia beacon has already overheated.” “Shut…” “I barely said anything and you’re malfunctioning already? How amusing.” “Son of a nice lady…” “I am indeed the daughter of a nice lady.”

“You-!”

He is bewildered at your unexpected behaviour but that painfully obvious blush on his cheek tells you he's not mad about it.

“Oh dear,” you chuckle and pry yourself off his metal chest, “I should stop or else your…eccentric friends…will hold me responsible for any severe malfunctions.”

This was enough teasing from you today. If it were up to you, you would go on and on but you feared any dire consequences that would affect Boothill. You lift and steady yourself up nonchalantly as if you just didn't cause the ranger to nearly pass out from your shenanigans.

Despite the cold metal exterior, he feels the loss of warmth from you moving your body away. His hand slowly retracts from your waist but lingers as if he hesitates to let go. The overheating of his system rapidly starts to decrease, however, he is unable to calm his emotions down completely. He turns his attention away from his mechanical heart and gazes at you curiously while you fix your wrinkled dress.

“You are one hell of a woman.”

A long sigh leaves his mouth as he speaks as if still processing your chaos. A sly smile appears on your face when you (finally) hear him speak properly.

“Took you a while to get talking didn't it mister?”

That grin on your face screams ‘this wasn’t even my best attempt’ but he shrugs it off. He unknowingly takes a step closer to you as if wanting your presence as close to him as possible. The (welcomed) intrusion into your personal space causes you to sharply inhale. He simply places his hand over the rim of your filled glass and whispers gently.

“You think I'd let any lady come close like that?”

Your mouth practically foams as you try to formulate a response. Eventhough you're not looking him, you can feel his gaze on you which makes you nervous.

“I'll tell you something sweetheart. I've got some fudging business to attend to in a bit but the next time we meet, I'll finish what you started.”

His voice is low and rumbly as he subtly warns you of the consequences of your actions. He follows it with a tight squeeze of your hand and then steps away from you. Your mind protests his leave but you're too stunned to speak; had you put yourself on his wanted list now? 

There is a devilish smile on his face as he checks his gun and locks it before walking away with it casually. Next time, he'd show you what a cowboy is capable of.

Hey, at least you were living out the dreams of those ranch ladies. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[cozmowrites]

The Fire Burns Out

ooc: cheating

===

The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. You sat on the couch, staring at the television screen displaying a paused scene from a movie you'd stopped paying attention to.

It had been a week since Bakugou came home late, smelling of someone else's perfume, and three days since you had confronted him about it.

Even now, the echo of his words replayed in your head, sharp and cutting.

"It didn't mean anything, alright?" He had snapped, his voice raw. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this." Why would he say something like that?

The argument had spiraled out of control, leaving behind wounds that words couldn't heal. His guilt was there, you saw it in his eyes. But it wasn't enough to stop him. Not enough to fight for you the way you had always fought for him.

Your fingers traced the rim of your coffee mug. Four years. Four long years together, and it all felt like it was unraveling at the seams. You remembered the beginning.

The way he shyly asked you out in your third year of high school, his cheeks flushed as he tried to play it cool. He loved you. The way he'd held your hand for the first time, his touch hesitant but warm.

You had believed in him, in the fire that burned so brightly in his soul. But now, that fire felt cold, its embers scattered.

The front door clicked open, and you heard his boots against the floor. He didn't announce himself like he used to. No, "I'm home," or teasing remarks about your taste in TV dramas. Instead, he walked straight to the kitchen, avoiding your gaze.

"Late night again?" You asked, keeping your voice even. You wanted to cry, but you had to show how u bothered you were. Just to get through it.

"Work," he muttered, not looking at you as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Work," you repeated bitterly. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

His movements froze, and for a moment, the air between you was thick with unspoken tension. Finally, he turned to face you, his crimson eyes hard but tired.

"What do you want me to say, (Y/n)?" he asked, his voice low. "That I'm sorry? I already said it. What more do you want from me?"

"I want the truth," you shot back, standing up. "I want to know why. Why her? Why now? After everything we've been through, Katsuki, how could you—" Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it.

His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "It just happened, alright? I don't know what else to tell you!"

"You don't know?" You said, your voice rising. Cracking. "You don't know why you decided to throw away four years like it was nothing?"

"It's not like that!" He snapped, his own temper flaring. "Stop acting like I don't care about you, because I do!"

"Do you?" You challenged, stepping closer to him. "Because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it. You haven't looked at me the same in months, Katsuki. I'm not stupid. I know you've been pulling away, but I thought—" Your voice broke again, and you took a shaky breath. "I thought we could fix it."

His silence was deafening, and for the first time, you saw it in his eyes—resignation. He wasn't going to fight for you.

"Maybe we can't," he said quietly, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe. The tears you'd been holding back spilled over, and you turned away from him, covering your face with your hands.

"God, you're such a coward," you choked out. "You'd rather cheat than talk to me. You'd rather hurt me than admit you're falling out of love. How did we get here, Katsuki?"

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I don't know, (Y/n)."

The fight drained out of you, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sat back down on the couch, burying your face in your hands.

"I loved you," you whispered. "I still do. But maybe that's not enough anymore."

Bakugou stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looked like he wanted to say something, to reach out to you, but he didn't. Instead, he turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving you alone with your broken heart.

+++

The days that followed were a blur of cold silence and awkward avoidance. You both went through the motions, pretending you could coexist in the same space without addressing the chasm that had grown between you.

One night, you found yourself scrolling through old photos on your phone. There was one from your high school graduation, the two of you grinning like idiots with your arms around each other. Another from your first vacation together, where he had carried you on his back after you twisted your ankle hiking.

You missed that version of him. The version who looked at you like you were his entire world.

But people changed. Love changed. And as much as it hurt, you couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

+++

The final fight came a week later.

"I'm moving out," you said, breaking the silence as you packed your suitcase.

Bakugou stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, his expression unreadable. "So that's it, huh?"

"What else is there to say?" You asked, not looking at him. "We've been pretending like this can work, but it can't. Not anymore."

He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "You're giving up."

You laughed bitterly, turning to face him. "I'm not the one who gave up, Katsuki. You did. The moment you decided she was worth more than us, you gave up. I'm just finally accepting it."

His gaze dropped, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But he didn't. Instead, he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I know," you replied, your voice softening. "But sorry doesn't fix this. It doesn't fix us."

You finished packing and zipped up your suitcase. As you walked past him, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

"(Y/n)," he said, his voice cracking.

You looked at him, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of the boy you had fallen in love with. But it wasn't enough to make you stay.

"Goodbye, Katsuki," you said, gently pulling your hand away.

And with that, you walked out the door, leaving behind the man who had once been your everything.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

[quimichi]

I Read Your Twisted Wonderland 'When You Wake Him Up With Nonsense" and Wanted To Ask If We Can Get One With The Staff(With Staff!Reader) and RSA(With RSA!Reader)? 🥺

Feel Free To Ignore😭

Love You❤️ And Have a Great Day!

"=⌕ YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE / pt. 2

⌕ pt. 1 here

warnings: bad writing, as usual, some characters may seem ooc, I apologize, pet names, some might dislike those

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night with some nonsense

characters: RSA, NRC Staff and Rollo x GN!Reader

word count: 1,995

a/n: some are shorter or longer, it's just that I find some characters hard to write or I write them like I view them :) I HOPE YOU ALSO HAVE A VEEEERY NICE DAY TOO!

Chenya

The sound of your voice draws his attention to you. His breath hitches as he tries to stay asleep. He does not respond, instead he remains still as a statue. It is as if he wants to hear every word you have to say. And he wants to keep sleeping.

"Chenya, Chenya, Chenya, Chenya...Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker." Your voice cuts through the quiet. Your words pull him out of a dream.

He opens his eyes, and he looks straight at you and whines. "Why you gotta pull my full naaaaame...jus' wanna sleeeep..." "Yesterday I saw a motorcycle on the sun kissing the curtains in a cow." He blinks, utterly baffled by your words. His brow furrows and he is at a complete loss with how to respond. Finally, he settles on a simple and tired, "Wha-?" "What I said." You are utterly illogical. It makes it nearly impossible for him to comprehend you.

Your mind is fascinating, weird. You're fucking dumb sometimes.

His lips twitch upwards. That's why he loves you.

"You make no sense, ya know." He signs hard, rubbing his eyes. "And ya woke me up for that bullshit...you gotta pay me back, you better."

Neige

The sound of your voice is so familiar, and the words hit him like a wave of cool air while he's asleep. His body shifts as he starts to respond in the depths of his sleep.

"Wha-" He starts to say, his words faltering on the cusp of waking. "Cutie are you...is everything okay?" he asks groggily, a bit of sleep still clinging to him. If he could blush in his slumber, he would have been scarlet in shame for how his words slurred and garbled on his tongue. He slowly sits up, looking more worried than ever.

"I just saw a chicken picking up McDonald's at the gas station for detention." The words catch him off-guard once more, and he stares at you with a small confused smile on his face. He tries to process what you've said, but finds it impossible without more explanation.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he tilts his head to the side, looking way to adorable for his own good. His confusion soon gives way to a brief chuckle, and he smiles widely and nods, still processing your words.

"That's such a nice story!...You should tell me the ending tomorrow though..." and with that he pulls you back against him and pets your head gently before both of you fall back asleep. He's still confused tho...

Rollo

He begins to stir, slowly waking to consciousness. His eyes dart around the room, his vision blurred and unfocused as he sits up. "Mmm, yes?" Rollo could never be mad if you woken him up for a reason, a good reason.

"I forgot to tell you that the telephone told me about the flying elephant with rainbow eyes and silver shoes." Rollo raises one eyebrow at first, thinking you're playing a trick on him. The joke is too outlandish to be real. Even this is to stupid for you.

But seeing that you're serious, he has no idea what to say. He is speechless. Oh...so you are that dumb huh? At this point the lord can't save him anymore.

"Is...that so?" he finally asks. "Yes!" Rollo stares at you incredulously as you continue. Every detail you describe is nonsensical and unrealistic. But his gaze remains firmly fixed on yours, and his thoughts are blank.

He struggles to understand why you woke him up. Is this a game? He is utterly puzzled. And his annoyance is starting to seep in. But the look in your eyes is magnetic, and it is difficult for him to hold his frustration. He sighs, "You...you are truly one of a kind, are you aware of that?" But Rollo can't help but smile at you, you just had to turn his life upside down, huh?

Crowley

He stirs slightly, his eyes blinking slowly open. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he realizes you are next to him and closes it again. His expression is soft and delicate, like your presence is a beacon of light in the darkness, and all he can focus on is you. You'd be surprised, moments of his adoration aren't that rare.

"What is it?" he asks with a slight yawn, his voice still soft and sleepy. "So like, I cooked us a clock with sprinkles of snow and the clock then when away with the pan because of their date at the baseball doctor." In spite of his tired mood, he bursts into laughter. A hearty, full-bellied laugh that only he would be so amused by such ridiculous, nonsensical statements.

"Ah, my love. It seems you have discovered the wonders of a dream," the headmaster chuckles, running his fingers curiously through your hair. For a moment he ponders about what other kinds of nonsense you would utter, if this is what your brain conjures just during your sleep.

He chuckles again in amusement. "Do go on," he encourages you, still looking through you with a light in his eyes. "Did the clock turn into a frog? Did the frog wear green boots and sing rock songs in kitchen utensils?" He's amused, but he also wants to know.

Crewel

As you call to him, you can see his eyelids twitch underneath. Your voice seems to permeate his dreams. There is no immediate answer as his eyes flutter in a way that seems to indicate that he's trying to force himself awake but still struggles to do so. He turns onto his back, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice. After a moment, he finally manages to open his eyes with a low groan. His hand reaches for his forehead and rubs it, as though he's suffered from a particularly intense headache. But once he sees you, he stops, his eyes brightening at the sight of your face.

All the weariness seems to leave him in an instance, yet not entirely. He manages a smile for you. "Puppy?..." "I just ate a singing pizza who told me the story of the bees and the snakes who danced underwater." "Ah..." Divus manages a confused hum. It takes him a moment as he seems to try and work it out in his head.

"They danced in...underwater?" He asks, voice soft. "Underwater...is a body of water...but...how does one..." he looks away from you as he attempts to picture the scenario. After a moment, he shakes his head, chuckling softly into his palm. "No matter. That is quite a tale, indeed my pup."

Divus draws you close and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder and hugging you tightly. His breath is hot against your neck, his muscles tensing underneath.  "Sleep..." he mumbles softly, his voice seeming to get thicker as a low growl rumbles from his chest.

"Or does my pup want to keep being disobedient?"

Trein

(Solid grandpa issues ya'll have here)

It is almost as you say his name that his eyes blink quickly. They become wide and concerned. "Dearest?" he whispers with a hint of urgency in his voice. Though his expression turns gentle as he notices you aren't hurt or sick. His shoulders relax. "Yuu, have you not been feeling well?" Mozus asks, his voice a soothing melody. After a moment, he sits up. The bed creaks with the weight of his shifting body. Even Lucius wakes up from his slumber to tip tap his way over to your shared bed.

"Did you perhaps catch a cold? I could fetch some medicine if you would like." He doesn't want to see you in pain, not even for a moment. Oh, how caring he can be sometimes..."My hair turned purple because I washed it with dirt in the afternoon 13 years ago on a full red moon at midnight."

Silence hangs in the air as you speak. Mozus's expression remains concerned; worried. And then it turns into a frown. "Ah... You must've hit your head. Or else you wouldn't speak of such nonsense" he says. Though he tries to conceal it, a flicker of irritation flashes across his eyes. Your sudden statements seem to have sparked his annoyance.

"Or are you perhaps playing a childish prank on me at unholy hours?" he asks sharply, tone becoming stern. "If there is nothing else you require, I believe you've wasted enough of your time together." He tries to keep his voice neutral, but is obviously still slightly peeved at your game. "I-Im sorry..." His anger melts at your apology. His face melts back to a soft expression as he pulls you into his arms. His voice returns to its soothing tone as he presses his lips to yours.

When he pulls away, only seconds later, there's a content smile on to his lips. "Do not apologize," he says softly, voice quiet. Yet you feel a surge of pleasure run through your body. You feel almost as light as a feather once again. "I'm happy you're in best condition."

Vargas

Ashton jolts awake as he hears your voice, immediately rising into a defensive stance as he looks at you. Protectively he stands before the bed frantically looking around for potential danger with both his fists up, ready to punch whatever lurks in your shared bedroom.

"It's okay! Is there something wrong? Are you hurt?!" he asks anxiously but wild as he still holds his position. "Wha--no?!" He reacted so fast you couldn't keep up. "Oh...!" Asthon blinks a few times as he seems to calm himself. He lowers his fists, though now he seems completely at a loss for words. He stares at you blankly.

"That is good," he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed about the situation, "very good, yes " he offers a small smile, though you can sense him struggling to gather himself. "...so I woke up because the curtains were running away from a wild toaster." Ashton blinks a few times, processing this information. He seems to ponder it for a moment and then... bursts out into laughter.

It's a loud sound, like a true suburban father laugh. It's a sound of complete delight. Though, it doesn't take him too much effort to bring himself back. "Ah... yes," he says, "Wild toasters. They are very problematic." He lets himself sink into bed again, and like before, you're to slow to react. Because the moment his head hits the pillow, he's gone. Snoring the night away...

Sam

"Hm?" The mighty lord stirs in his sleep. He pulls the sheets tighter around him, his body twitching in his sleep. The sound of his name being uttered by you seems to have broken through his slumber. "Wake uuuup~!" "Hm?" Sam finally looks up at you, his eyes barely open. They seem to focus on you, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room before he finally smiles. "Impy...?" He speaks in the softest of whispers, his voice almost hoarse as though it had been a while. "Did my friends wakw you...or...was it my snoring?"

"My shampoo ran out cause the towel used it for their skincare routine." "Ah..." He sits up, his expression still weary from sleep. Before you can even tell him to stop, he's already risen from the bed. He's practically half-asleep as he waddles towards the shop and comes back with a bottle of shampoo in hand.

He doesn't question you or the strange request at all. "There you go," he holds up a bottle of shampoo. "Only the best for my little imp, and since its you...its on the house" he says, although he looks like he's in a trance he does smirk at you.

"Thank...you?" You question as you take the bottle from his hands. Before you know it he drops face first into bed, "But...if ya need anythin' else...get it yourself...alright?" he mumbles into the pillow.