#i love when the knight just like. is in boxes

[separatist-apologist]

heaven and hell were words to me

no grave could hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her

Summary: When Elain finds herself unexpectedly divorced, she makes a spontaneous decision to buy a run down farm house outside the city. Elain expects to find the pieces of herself among the rubble- she doesn't expect love in the form of her next door neighbor and his eight year old son.

Thank you @wilde-knight for your unending encouragement. I love you.

Read on AO3 | @elucienweekofficial

-

The sun was shining, and the world was ending.

That was how it felt, anyway. The fingers that held the pen trembled, making a mockery of her usually neat signature. 

Elain Nolan.

At least, until the paperwork was filed with the court and a judge agreed. There had been a box her lawyer had dutifully checked, returning her back to Elain Archeron. It was as if the last ten years hadn’t happened. 

Across from her, Graysen had already signed. He’d wanted to watch, to ensure she actually signed it. Elain had trekked across the city to his fancy lawyers office without her own (she’d been too ashamed to call her older sister and ask her to help), and sign away the life she’d once loved. Everything worked out in his favor thanks to her own desperation.

She thought if she’d been accommodating and forgiving, Graysen would realize he was making a mistake and take it all back. Instead, he’d gotten the house, half the equity in her business, half her meager retirement, and offered up nothing in return. No support, none of the finances other than an even split of their bank account, and the hatred burning in his steely gaze.

His lawyer snatched away the paperwork breathlessly.  “Well,” he said, tucking it beneath the arm of his expensive suit. He glanced at Graysen before offering Elain a thin lipped, oily smile. “I believe that concludes our business. I can show you to the elevator—”

“Tell Feyre if she needs that help we talked about, I’m still good for my word,” Graysen added quickly. Elain couldn’t recall what he meant.

She was going to cry. She could feel the tears burning in her throat. There wasn’t a shred of dignity left to her and hadn’t been since he’d asked her. Was there someone else? Why didn’t he love her anymore? How did someone wake up one morning and just stop loving their wife? Graysen had never explained it satisfactorily to her and he likely never would.

“And me?” she heard herself whisper. 

His expression hardened again. “Not you. Never you.”

He swept out of the room when it was clear she wasn’t going to, leaving her standing there with shaking legs and unkempt hair. His lawyer offered her a sympathetic smile, eyes pinched at the corners. “Why don’t we let him leave before ah…”

Elain collapsed into the black, leather swivel chair at the long conference table, hiding her face in her arms. She was a grown woman, she reminded herself. Sobbing like this was shameful, embarrassing. Where was her pride? Her dignity?

Gone, along with her wedding ring, her future plans, and the only man she’d ever loved. No one asked her to leave, despite her heaving, hiccuping sobs that must have carried through the thin, glass walls of the conference room. And no one said a damn thing to her when she finally stumbled out into the clinical hall that smelled strongly of pine sol and coffee. 

Outside, the world looked exactly as it had when she’d walked in. How? Everything felt so different for her—wrong, ruined, upended. Shouldn’t the world reflect that? Standing in the humidity, Elain waited for storm clouds to roll across that cerulean sky, for thunder to rip through the serene peace of an otherwise perfect day.

Nothing happened. 

She managed to make it to her car, though Elain felt a little drunk as she walked. Dazed, too. Tossing her keys to the passenger seat of her new-to-her Toyota Corolla—made in the late nineties, but still functional and more importantly, still affordable—Elain didn’t bother to turn the ignition despite the oppressive humidity.

Instead, she fished out her phone, the screen cracked from a fit of rage that saw her throwing it across the room. She’d been looking at houses on Zillow despite having almost no money to buy one. Her credit score wasn’t exactly great, either. Still, there had been a little farm house outside the city, sitting on three acres of uncut grass, that she hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about. It was cheap because it needed to be gutted or had structural damage or something, but Elain didn’t care. In her mind, she saw herself doing all that work despite not knowing how. 

Elain swiped through the pictures again, imagining painted walls, hanging plants, and maybe a couple chickens penned up on the property. It had character. Charm, even. More than she had. Maybe she liked the house so much because they were both hollowed out and empty.

Or maybe this was part of the grieving stage those women in the facebook chatrooms were always talking about. Anger, sadness, bargaining…and impulsive home ownership.

Or maybe not—Elain wasn’t a therapist, afterall. She was a florist with a business that was close to being upside down thanks to Graysen. She probably needed to see a therapist, but Elain hadn’t even admitted to her family that she was divorcing. Only her best friend, and only because Arina was nosy as hell…and was impossibly busy as a curator for some beautiful museum in the very metropolitan city of Velaris. The same city Elain currently was baking in. 

Arina had wanted to throw her a party after the divorce, an idea so miserable Elain had broken down crying when Arina had suggested, which had been embarrassing given they were sitting in a Chili’s at the time. 

What if I bought a house?

Elain sent the text before she fully comprehended the action. Her fingers still shook, her throat was still raw, her skin too tight. The phone chimed immediately.

Do it.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Elain had to go from pre-approval to full approval, which took her an entire month to complete given all her free time was spent laying in bed trying to think of something to text Graysen.

Not that he responded, of course. He’d blocked her, given the once blue bubbles of their text chat were now green, which made texting feel a little safer. Still, she had dreams where he came back to her on bended knee, apologizing for how horribly he’d treated her. She’d see him sweep her up in his arms and kiss her passionately only to be jerked back to the cruel reality in which he didn’t speak to her. 

Sometimes, when she wanted to torment herself, she replayed his final words back in her mind.

Not you. Never you. 

Had he done that favor for Feyre yet? Unlikely—he’d have told her little sister they’d divorced, surely, and Feyre would tell Nesta, and the two would descend on her shitty, studio apartment like a plague of locusts. They could handle bad break ups. Elain had watched them do it again and again. Hell, Feyre had ended a relationship with the man she intended to marry the day of their wedding, and go on with her life like everything would be fine.

They had the dignity Elain lacked. 

She couldn’t handle their boss babe platitudes and insistence that men weren’t shit, anyway. If that were true, why were they dating a pair of brothers? Not that Elain would ever dare say that. She knew it made Feyre and Nesta feel better to imagine her put together and perfect rather than the reality.

She slept on a futon in the living room of her apartment, ignoring the peeling paint on the walls and the unpacked boxes scattered along the floor. If Elain wasn’t working, she was staring at her phone and scrolling mindlessly through short videos of other people living their lives. She liked to watch people put make up knowing damn well she was never going to dot freckles over the bridge of her nose or buy a sparkly primer that made it seem as if she were lit from within.

Word came back forty five days after she’d first applied. The bank was unhappy, of course, but Elain had used her trust to put down an enormous down payment which silenced any further objections. If she defaulted, they still had a sizable sum to soften the blow. 

All that was left was to move. It should have been so easy–she was living out of a black trash bag stuffed with some clothes and a couple errant, mismatched bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Everything else was untouched, likely still reeking of her own life. And yet, when it came time to order a moving truck to take her out of Velaris, Elain always hesitated. Leaving made everything final in a way the divorce hadn’t. That seemed like a dream, something she’d imagined entirely and could escape if she just waited it all out. 

Graysen had already moved on. She watched his life through his Instagram stories—Vegas and Cancun, boy's trips and parties where women in tiny bikinis always seemed to make an appearance. The women seemed too young, but Graysen had money which she supposed made a thirty something attractive to a nineteen year old.

He’d moved on. Shouldn’t she? 

Not you. Never you.

Like she’d done something horrific to him. In one shouted fight, he’d admitted they’d married too young, but he’d proposed while they were still in college, and she’d been the one to drop out while he went to law school. Elain didn’t think she’d pressured him to do any of that—and it wasn’t like she’d gotten in the way of his goals or dreams. She’d worked odd jobs while he was in law school to pay their bills while also working to get her business off the ground. She’d managed their house, kept him fed, helped him study.

And he resented her for it. 

It wasn’t fair. The idea that Elain could give up a decade of her life to a man who would turn around and blame her for every perceived fault and failure seemed too cruel to contemplate. Graysen wanted to live out his twenties, and some stupid, pathetic part of her wanted to wait until he got it out of his system. He’d come back—she knew he would. It wasn’t like he could cook, and Graysen hadn’t cleaned his own laundry since she’d moved in with him when she’d been nineteen. 

What if it took another decade? What if he never came back? Elain decided to leave, thinking that he wouldn’t want her if she was moping and sad. Just like him, she needed to prove she could do things without him, if only to show him he wanted her back. Maybe, once she fixed up the house, he’d come back and they could start that family they’d always dreamed of. 

Elain left, telling herself she’d be back. 

She’d be back.

—

“Mom, please,” Lucien pleaded, turning to face his kitchen sink. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t swear,” his mother chided, talking to him as if he were a child. 

“Dad says fuck all the time,” Rowan told his grandmother cheerfully, taking his place at the little table in the kitchen. His mother glanced over at her grandson, hardly old enough to have a grandson truly. His mother had her first child at sixteen, and six more in quick succession while his father had been in his thirties. 

Or, not his father, as Lucien was learning. “Did dad—Beron—know?” “Yes,” she replied, tucking a piece of auburn hair behind her ear. It was the same shade as Rowans, though his was a mop of wild curls inherited from the mother he didn’t remember. 

“And he was fine with it?” Lucien demanded, turning his thoughts back to the problem at hand. 

His mother leveled a look at him—the one that reminded Lucien of the chaotic, violent upbringing they’d all had. Had it gotten worse when he’d been born? Was that the excuse his father had needed? Or had he always been like that? Eris seemed to think he’d always been that way given the eulogy his brother had recently given.

Multiple people had called it disrespectful, but Lucien and his surviving brothers had all had a good laugh. Why memorialize  a truly cruel man? No one had good memories of him, his family included. Funerals were hardly the time to lie. 

Now, his father cold and bloated in the ground, Lucien was learning he’d never been Beron’s son at all but instead had some other, unnamed father. Maybe he should have guessed that—his late wife Jess had always quietly wondered where his dark skin came from. Now he supposed he knew. 

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because we’re going on a date this weekend,” his mother informed him blithely. “And if he comes around for the holidays, I don’t want any surprises.”

Lucien swore under his breath again. “Am I going to meet him?”

“If you want,” she agreed, raking her fingers through Rowan’s hair in an attempt to smooth them into something a little more respectable. Good luck, he wanted to say, though Lucien preferred them unruly. His mothers had always been the same. 

“I—I need to think about it,” Lucien admitted, before adding, “do my brothers know?”

“Yes.”

“And no one thought to mention it?” Lucien snapped, tempering his anger. His mother’s brown eyes flashed a warning, and though he was a grown man twice her size, Lucien shrank back a little, unwilling to make his mother angry. 

“What would have been the point? Not knowing kept the worst of Beron’s anger focused on me, not you.”

Lucien was immediately overwhelmed with guilt. “Alright. Just…just let me know how the date goes and if you need me to put him in his place,” Lucien offered contritely. His mother exhaled, stepped forward, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

��You’re a good man,” she told him before joining Lucien’s son at the dining table. It was early afternoon, just past lunch and Rowan was back inside with scraped knees, a hole in his brand new shorts, and dirt smudging the tip of his nose. 

“Dad, someone bought the haunted house.”

Lucien, distracted, merely glanced down at his seven year old son. “Oh?”

“Yeah, some lady. I saw her moving things in this morning.”

“Oh, honey,” his mother murmured, licking her finger to wipe away the dirt. Rowan wiggled out of her grasp, cheeks squished beneath her grasp. “No one can live in that house.”

“I saw her,” Rowan protested, nearly knocking his chair backward to escape. “Her name is Elain.”

Lucien’s attention focused wholly on his son. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

“Why did she tell you her name?” Lucien pressed, though he already knew the answer. His son had likely marched right up to her to offer a welcome, the nosy little thing. Rowan was charming and unafraid of strangers no matter how many times Lucien had tried to drill it into his head that not everyone could be trusted. His mother had been the same way—fearless, adventurous, and entirely friendly to a fault. 

A pang of grief pricked at his gut. Jess had been gone for six years, and Lucien’s misery had softened into fondness, his memories rosy. They’d been married two years, together for five before she’d passed away, leaving him with a son that bore a striking resemblance to her. Rowan had all of Lucien’s coloring—his golden brown skin, his russet colored eyes, his auburn hair—but the arrangement of those features were wholly Jesminda. It was her high cheekbones, her soft mouth, her wild curls that people noticed.

And her personality. She was still alive in that way, still loved by Lucien even if he couldn’t tell her so directly. He just wished that Rowan had a little of Lucien’s skepticism.

“I told her my name,” Rowan replied, interrupting Lucien’s internal monologue. 

“What if she was a murderer?” Lucien demanded, just as he always did. “What if she kidnaps children.”

“She looked nice,” Rowan replied with a shrug of his shoulders, turning back to his glass of water. “She said when she got the pool fixed, I could swim in it.”

“I’ll bet she did,” Lucien muttered. Vowing he’d deal with the problem of a new neighbor later, he returned to work. He’d been out here alone for the last seven years—that old, rotting farm house had been for sale and abandoned far longer than Lucien had lived here. He imagined some developer had purchased it for pennies, would flip it, and turn it into an Airbnb. 

Still, the thought of the neighbor interrupted his thoughts for the remainder of the day, punctuated only by Rowan wandering in and out to tell him about a leaf he saw or a bug he was trying to find—typically when Lucien was in the middle of a client meeting. He was fortunate to work as an attorney mostly from home given he rarely needed to be in court. Lucien was far better at litigating settlements and driving into Velaris as needed to get paperwork signed, but he mostly worked out of his office in the little cottage he and Jess had purchased years ago.

It would have been too small for them if they’d ever had the big family they’d wanted. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and interconnecting rooms that offered little privacy, it had been all they could afford at twenty three. They’d always planned to move someday, but after she’d gotten sick and died, Lucien couldn’t bring himself to leave. All her memories were concentrated in that space.

And he’d vowed back then he’d never fall in love again, so what did it matter? Rowan got to grow up surrounded by the memories of his mother and out in nature, and Lucien remained close to the only woman he’d ever loved. 

His mother and brothers helped—they watched Rowan when Lucien asked, providing free childcare so he could continue to work. It was what had brought her over that morning, though she’d stayed longer than she normally did to drop that little confession on him.

Another father. He’d dreamed of it as a child—some stranger coming to whisk him away, freeing him of Beron’s tyranny. Now he had it, and Lucien wasn’t sure he even wanted it. Where had he been, all those years? Content to watch from the sidelines, biding his time while hoping Beron would die young? He could have gone through the courts, could have provided a safe haven.

Could have condemned Lucien’s mother to an even worse fate than she already had. Lucien supposed it was a no win situation. Beron demanded absolute control and authority—he wouldn’t have given up Lucien anymore than he’d have let Lucien’s mom divorce him. She’d tried plenty of times to get away from him, and every single time, Beron found them and dragged him straight back. There was no point in being angry with anyone but Beron. Lucien could sort out the rest of his feelings in time.

He called it quits around four, making his way back into the living room where Rowan was, kneeling on a multicolored rug as he built another lego set. “C’mon,” he said, “let's go introduce dad to the neighbor.”

“You’ll like her,” Rowan began, scrambling to his feet so quickly he was in danger of destroying his progress. Lucien threw his hands out, but Rowan wasn’t concerned, barely glancing backward before bounding out of the house. 

“How do you know I’ll like her?” Lucien questioned, offering his hand to his son as they stepped out into the humidity. He was ready for Summer to end even though it was only July. The weather wouldn’t become bearable until late September, a fact that made Lucien’s insides recoil. Rowan didn’t seem to care either way, pushing curls out of his warm, brown eyes as he bounded ahead barefoot. 

“She’s nice,” Rowan declared, as if that were the only quality that mattered. 

“Well, I hope she’d be nice to a little boy,” Lucien commented, earning a wrinkled nose frown from his son. It was 

“Big boy, dad,” Rowan reminded him. 

“Of course. My apologies,” Lucien replied, wishing Rowan didn’t feel so ready to grow up. Time seemed to be moving too quickly, and his little second grader was close to entering the third grade.

The youngest child in the class by far, but back when Lucien had enrolled him, he’d rationalized, he’d been motivated by the idea of socialization. Rowan didn’t talk to anyone his own age, and had been a shy little boy that only came out of his shell when he started interacting with peers his own age. 

The house came into view about half a mile down the road. White peeling paint and broken windows and a broken fence made it a wildly unappealing property. Lucien was pretty confident there was a bat infestation in the attic, and the inside likely needed to be completely gutted. He didn’t expect to see anyone, still certain it had been purchased by an investor.

But no, there she was. Standing on the rotting front porch was a woman who couldn’t have been a whole lot younger than him, hands on her hips as she stared upward. The veranda was sagging and one of the support beams had splintered, likely from a bad storm. Elain, his son had said. That sounded like the name of someone corporate, but this woman had on short overalls and a pink tank top beneath, a peak of her slim stomach between the gaps of fabric.

She turned, hair braided in twin tails down her back, to look at him and oh. Lucien felt as if the wind had been sucked right out of him. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, which immediately made him feel guilty. He’d once said the same to Jess, and had believed it ardently.

“Oh, hey, Spam!” she said with a smile, walking down the creaking steps to greet his son. 

“I brought you help, just like I promised!” Rowan told her, bounding toward her to throw his arms around her middle. He barely knew her—why was he greeting her like an old friend? 

“Lucien Vanserra, and my son, Rowan Vanserra,” he told her, taking her smooth, small hand in his own. She offered him a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes—she looked as if she’d been crying. Or, maybe it was allergies? Her eyes were just a little swollen and red, and the warm, soft brown were glassy and just a little unfocused. Had she realized what a monumental mistake she’d made?

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Elain Nol—Elain Archeron. I uh…I didn’t realize how much work this place was going to need.”

Lucien rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s been empty for a long time. Local kids used to party in it before they put locks on the door.”

“That explains all the beer cans,” she replied. “I don’t expect you to help, by the way. I’ll hire contract—”

“What kind of neighbor would I be if I didn’t?” he heard himself interrupt. Why? Shut up. Was this who he was? The first beautiful woman he stumbled upon made him forget everything in the hopes of spending some time with her? No, he was just being friendly. It would inevitably amount to nothing.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d been living like a monk. He’d had plenty of one night stands when his son was at his moms or out with one of his brothers. Not that he intended to sleep with this woman, he amended hastily in his mind. Just that it wasn’t the first time he’d had those kinds of thoughts, and he didn’t need to beat himself up so badly about them. 

She offered him a small, shy smile that made his stomach twist into knots. Between them, Rowan’s head pinged back and forth with unconcealed delight.

“Can I use the hammer?”

“Of course you can,” Elain offered sweetly, unaware that a hammer was the last thing he’d let his son help with.

“No,” Lucien added, shaking his head. Elain’s cheeks flushed.

“Oops,” she whispered, offering Rowan a conspiratorial wink. “Well, how about paint?”

“Dad let me help paint my bedroom!” Rowan informed her without telling her how he’d knocked a bucket over on the hardwood floor. She’d figure it out eventually.

Elain smiled. “I can’t wait.”

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[starkaabii]

At least half the Kirby fandom is madly in love with Meta Knight. And while there's absolutely nothing wrong with that whatsoever, I sit here after 8 years, thinking about feelings that I used to have no idea how to understand. I've always loved Meta Knight, and I would have just said it exactly like that, because I didn't understand love back then. Now I'm older and I'm finally starting to slowly begin to understand all those things that once puzzled me.

I love Meta Knight, yes. But not in the romantic, crushing kind of way that a lot of others in this fandom do. Yet, not in just a "he's a cool character and that's it" way, either. But then, what did it mean for me, exactly? How could I even begin to articulate it? Why didn't I just get normal fictional crushes like other people?

It's now that I finally realize that what I've felt since I was a child is an admiration. For me, Meta Knight is a character I've always greatly looked up to and admired. I wanted to be like him. His courage and nobility, yet his selflessness; his perseverance, his ability to hold on to hope even when everything cane crashing down a thousand times over. His refusal to let his circumstances and past stop him, his care for those he considers his friends, all wrapped under his calm, collected demeanor; not unfeeling and cold, but level-headed and able to take the time to think things through, yet also act at a moment's notice to do what's right, even when it means putting himself on the line.

Meta Knight has been my hero and role model most of my life. That's what I meant when I was younger and would say I love him without truly understanding how. And it's made me able to realize that, a lot of the time when I've dearly loved even real people, it hasn't been romantic. There are so many different kinds of love than just romantic love. So many different things love can mean. And it's amazing, really, especially now that I'm finally beginning to be able to understand that and myself. Love isn't limited to romance, it's not even limited to friendship. Love for a character in media isn't limited to a fictional crush likewise; it can mean so many other things.

It's just kind of amazing, finally learning to understand all that as someone who has such a difficult time comprehending and interpreting feelings. Like seeing a rainbow appear in a stormy grey sky and taking in that whole beautiful spectrum of colors.

[age-of-moonknight]

“New Moon,” Moon Knight: Fist of Khonshu (Vol. 2/2024), #1.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[goldentigerfestival]

something I really love about Yuri's character growth between childhood and teenhood is how... relaxed, openly nurturing, sillier, and happier he became.

I think a lot about how sometimes I feel like Yuri was a bit too harsh with the other kids. like, yes, they did a LOT of dumb things, but I think Yuri's reactive responses, which were understandable annoyance and aggravation at their behavior, could've been better solved with calmness and softer tones. if he had gently nudged the other kids when they all went outside the barrier to be quieter for instance, such as suggesting Jareth simply sing extremely softly (thus being accepting of his feelings and happiness outside the barrier but still warning him/reminding him to be careful), I think the other kids would've been more receptive. I think if he'd been understanding about their excitement and just softly urged them to be happy but quietly, they could've avoided more problems.

and I think that's really noticeable in how Yuri acts as an adult and as a teen. he is softer in his voice - something he started doing as a teen. he's less reactive and more likely to speak softly and understandingly, even at times that he feels he needs to be firm. as a teen, his first reaction to situations that he's not fond of in relation to Flynn, Jareth and Jiri aren't as whiplash emotional. he's more understanding and more likely to stop and think about how to respond. he gets emotional, but he doesn't react in outbursts anymore. by the time he's an adult, it takes a lot to get Yuri angry, and he also cools off very easily.

Jareth especially is a big one. as kids, Yuri used to get snappy at things he did. as a teen, he instead gets quiet. he'll raise some concerns and he won't hide if he's bothered, but he's much calmer about it and more openly worried than he is annoyed. as a kid, Jareth acted out if he was yelled at. they had this sort of back and forth, push and pull relationship sometimes. but if Yuri had been more receptive to Jareth as children, Jareth might not have been so pushy about his responses (or to Flynn in turn).

and of course they were just seven year old kids, so like, of course Yuri didn't really have that logic pipeline, but that's what I love about his progression to his teenage years. by then he does have that ability to make a logical conclusion. when Jareth is upsetting him at dinner, he voices his concerns, but he doesn't snap at him. when he's worried about Jareth's behavior, he's quiet and thinking about it and it's noticed by Flynn, but Yuri doesn't react to it in any way that would put Jareth on the defensive like he did as a child.

I just really love the huge differences in his personality and his reactionary behavior between the child and teen arc. I know I joke about teen Yuri being a perfect little baby angel and the sweetest little guy ever, but I do really think he's at his best and happiest in the teen arc than he is in any Vesperia media that's prior to post game. like, after the game's timeline, I think Yuri is starting to heal from all the emotional damage he's had since his teenage years (that's a whole other post I've already made LOL). I just think that Yuri would be a very different person as an adult if Jiri and Jareth hadn't died and if Flynn hadn't moved away after that insanity. I think if all the chaos hadn't happened in the teen arc that Yuri would have become a very different person based on who he was as a teen.

[sweetandglovelyart]

Are there any other Kirby fans on here who are also fans of Star Trek? I’ve met a couple of people on here who like both, but I’m trying to see if there’s anyone else.

I’m a big fan of Star Trek and I actually see a lot of parallels between Kirby and Star Trek (some examples of this are they both have mirror versions of the characters and the plot of Planet Robobot is just the plot of every Borg episode from Star Trek). I also like to include Star Trek references in my Kirby fanart (like making a reference to the Vulcan philosophy IDIC/Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations in my Meta Knight backstory comic) and I was wondering if anyone else in the fandom likes to do stuff like that in their art or writing. Where are all of the Kirby Trekkies at lmao 🖖

[tiskycat]

Btw, I’ve been playing FFIII for a couple weeks now and I love how the four heroes/player characters just share one dialogue box for that true “one entire brain cell in the group” experience

[todayisafridaynight]

We’re having an emergency meeting to discuss Chris Johnson and the whitest name ever

absolutely fitting for our white man now innit

[thetarotyapper]

how will your future partner/spouse show their affection towards you? (pick-a-card reading)

paid services 18+ paid services tarot community ko-fi

(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. scroll down to read your message!! remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

۶ৎ pile I ۶ৎ

10 of cups, knight of wands, the chariot, 4 of swords, the emperor, strength, 6 of swords, 2 of swords 

babe, the cards for your reading was LITERALLY falling out. like your person had no chill😭. their energy came off as very messy and dominating. it's almost like they lose their control over you. i'm not even kidding when i say that i'm literally feeling so hot right now. like your person's energy is STRONG. phew okay with that being said, let's get to your reading hehe. 

your person is going to show their affection towards you by always being there for you and protecting you. they just give off such safe vibes, it's so heartwarming. “oh you need help with this? let go of it, babe. i got this”, typa vibes. you can always, and mark my words when i say this - ALWAYS depend on your person. they're not the type to get irritated with you. they're patient, kind and also very understanding. i see you feeling all soft and giddy with them lol, and i honestly don't blame you. they're the type of person who loves taking care of their partner and they'll go out of their way to make you feel satisfied. and seeing you happy makes them happy. i would be lying if i said i'm not giggling while writing your reading. THIS IS EVERY PERSON'S DREAM PARTNER. they'll be your backbone and they'll be with you through thick and thin. they might not be very verbal about their love for you but their actions will show it. they're a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words’. OH MY GOD i just imagined you trying to reach a box in a cabinet but it's too high and you're struggling to reach it and then BOOM your person is right behind you, getting the box for you with ease. they might be someone who is very tall and i see them having nice biceps. they might like the colour black or dark colours and they might have facial hair. i'm also seeing that you might be a little submissive towards them and you will try to act cutesy and ‘weak’ in front of them so that they can help you. you can do the things yourself, but you like it when they do it for you because then you'll get to see their muscles flex. ahem pile 1, you're smart🤭. 

acts of service is one of their love languages. i'm also seeing that they'll love providing you with guidance and they'll do so with great patience. i'm getting the energy here that they might be someone who is older than you or they're someone who is emotionally mature for their age. 

they're going to show their love for you by being very fiery and passionate. they literally can't keep their hands to themselves. AHH I JUST FELT SOMETHING WHISPER IN MY EAR. they might like to whisper sweet nothings to you and might even like to nibble at your ear a lot. lots of sloppy, heated and passionate kisses coming through😳. im seeing that they will love to take you out on a lot of dates and might like to go out and do fun activities because i'm getting a lot of movement energy here. they'll also love it when you voice out what you want. they want to meet your needs. they want to be your provider. they want to serve you. 

they'll also love cuddling with you and i see that they might like to be the big spoon. they'll love listening to you rant and it's one of their love languages. they love listening to you talk. they're going to show their affection towards you by acting as a ‘stress-free’ plushie for you where you can take out all your frustrations on them. and i also see them helping you understand your emotions and calming you down. if you're wrong, they'll make you realise that you're wrong in the most healthy and understanding way, instead of lashing out on you. they're not the type to get angry. in fact, they'll hardly get angry. they'll help you release control. they'll show their affection towards you by providing you with emotional support and by helping you face your challenges. your person might take some time to open up to you and show their affection towards you in the beginning, but that doesn't mean they don't love you. some people take their time opening up and they're one of them. but always know that regardless of what happens, they'll always have your back. they also might not be very verbal, but they won't hesitate to show you how much they love you. 

۶ৎ pile II ۶ৎ

8 of pentacles, the sun, 7 of cups, 2 of cups, 2 of swords, 2 of wands, the moon, the emperor

pile 2, your person is going to SPOIL you like crazy. like omg me when🏃‍♀️🚶‍♀️. like y'all are so lucky and you deserve it!! your person is a hard worker and they're literally doing their best so that they can spoil you. BYE THE WORD “babygirl” JUST CHANNELED THROUGH HEHEHE. seeing you happy is literally all they want in life and they're going to go out of their way to see you smile. “you want this gucci purse? okay, but make sure to take something else too. don't make me look poor”. LIKE UGHHH IM LITERALLY SCREAMING. sugar daddy/mommy who?👀 hahahaa. 

your person radiates this warmth, it's so hard to ignore. your person gives a lot of child-like energy and they're very sensitive towards you. like no one is gonna mess with their partner🤭🤭. if y'all ever get married, they will literally flaunt you and they'll love saying “my wife”/”my husband” like ajahajahjahajaja. they're such a cutie patootie im not gonna lie. like awww they are such a fool for you. they'll never make you feel like you're missing something. you'll get ANYTHING you want.

your person is so fulfilling, like ugh where have you been this whole time!!! they're going to have their eyes on you and ONLY you. they might be a little submissive or they aren't afraid to be vulnerable towards you. i see that they will like it when you praise them a lot. like if you call them a good boy/girl, they're literally gonna go crazy. I WAS TRYING TO KEEP THIS READING AS FRIENDLY AND SFW AS POSSIBLE BUT I JUST COULDN'T IGNORE THIS PART. they might be like a golden retriever typa person. 

i'm also seeing that they might be a little insecure because they might feel like they aren't good for you because you might have a lot of potential suitors and they feel like you'll pick those people over them. they're constantly worried about that. and that might also be one of the reasons why they always want to spoil you so much. they're scared of losing you. and not to mention, they would love to surprise you with gifts and every present they buy has a deep meaning behind it. they want to spend the rest of their life with you and they won't be afraid to show it. they're almost pathetic for you lol (we all love someone who is love-crazy over us 🤭🤭). 

your person is also someone who is very honest and real about their feelings for you. they're going to show their affection by being completely raw and natural with you. they won't beat around the bush. they're very straightforward. they will also help you face your fears and they want you to know that no matter how hard life gets, they'll always be there for you. 

your person is going to show their affection towards you by putting in the effort towards the relationship. they're going to be so patient and loving towards you. they might also like to playfully tease you in public. your person does not have a said love language like pile 1. they're all over the place, but they're fulfilling. they'll never make you feel deprived of their love. you're literally going to be their first priority. the song “no.1 party anthem” by arctic monkeys just came to my mind - the look of love, the rush of blood…. oh pile 2, your person is such a sucker for you. you've got them wrapped around your fingertips. they want to build a future with you. but at the same time, they're scared of what the future holds for them. they're scared you'll find someone better, and it breaks their heart.  you'll need to build trust with your partner and you will need to show them that you're here to say forever. they might get a little possessive towards you but it's because of pure jealousy. they might also have abandonment issues, so you'll need to be very understanding towards them. suddenly i got the energy here that they might be controlling over who you talk to and what you wear, but this can be avoided if you clearly communicate with one another. this behaviour of theirs will make you feel a little strained sometimes but you'll also have to understand that there might have been a very deep rooted trauma as to why they're acting this way. i'm getting the energy here that their family life or their past relationships might not have been that great and that is why they act this way. if you do not like their behaviour, then please voice it out. 

۶ৎ pile III ۶ৎ

page of cups, 3 of wands, 4 of pentacles, 10 of wands, the chariot, the moon, 7 of pentacles, queen of swords, queen of wands 

for some reason, im seeing that y'all would go on cute art dates or dates where y'all would like to do cutesy stuff. lots of paintings and colours came to my mind. maybe pile 3, you could be an artist or maybe your person will be. or maybe you both have an interest in art - either as a profession or a hobby. 

i'm going to be honest, either you or your person have been through a lot. one of you (im mostly getting the energy of your future partner/spouse) would have taken a break from relationships and might have even given up on love. i'm seeing a lot of hurt and mistrust here. relationships might have felt like a job rather than an emotional connection. but here's the thing, when you guys meet each other, everything will change. i'm seeing cherry blossom trees. this relationship is going to be life changing and transformative. your ideas on love will entirely change when you meet one another. this relationship is going to be a new beginning. 

your person is going to show their affection towards you by making you a part of their life. they're going to involve you in each and everything and they're going to try out new things with you. i see you healing their inner child. they're going to be very expressive and emotional with you. i see this relationship moving forward very fast. your person is someone who is very creative so they're going to show their affection towards you in creative ways such as writing you love letters, poetry, painting or they might even cook your favourite meal. they might be an introvert and might be a little nerdy. 

this relationship is going to be very nurturing and im seeing a lot of growth here. your person will also help you come up with creative ideas for your work and they might also help you explore your interests and will support your ambition. they'll love to see you grow and they'll be so proud of you. they're going to be very protective over you because they have never felt this way for anyone. they might also love cuddling/hugging you a lot. your touch gives them this sense of safety. your person might be someone who is under-confident and i see them finding it hard to maintain eye contact with you. i see you helping them build their confidence and i see you supporting them throughout their journey. my dear pile 3, you're such a beautiful person. you're such an understanding person, the world deserves more people like you. i see you being so patient towards them and it honestly warms my heart. at first, they might be a little hesitant to open up to you because of their trust issues and it might take them some time. but your understanding and kind nature will help them to eventually open up. pile 3, i want to give my heartfelt thanks to you because your energy is so lovely, i feel so safe. thank you for being here, pile 3. i truly mean it. 

your person is very sensitive to your emotions so if something bothers you, it bothers them. i see them helping you with your responsibilities by taking on half of your burden and guiding you through your difficult times. they're going to help you stand your ground. i'm also seeing that sometimes they might feel overwhelmed with your love and they might try to push you away, but you understand them so i see you both working through it. your person wants to work things out with you and they want to move this relationship forward. they will be a little hesitant and closed off, but i see you both working through it. i'm also seeing that their actions will be calculated because they are scared of disappointing you or making you angry and honestly this is so sad. they have gone through a lot, pile 3. sometimes you might get tired and irritated with their emotions, but you need to understand where they are coming from. i agree it can be frustrating, but you need to realise that you're the only one they can be so vulnerable towards and that's why they are so open with you. you understand them. this relationship will progress slowly, but it is going to be a very emotionally fulfilling relationship. 

your person is not the type to show their affection in public because they don't like anyone in their business. they might show subtle and soft gestures in public. but when you both are alone, they're raw and honest. sometimes you might feel like they don't show you off or that they aren't very affectionate towards you and if it bothers you, please speak up. your person is afraid of making a move because sometimes they feel like they make you uncomfortable but you need to show them that you want them to be affectionate towards you. they prefer it when you're honest and direct with them and i'm seeing that they prefer it when you tell them what you want. communication is the main key in this relationship. 

i'm also seeing that sometimes your partner might feel bold and will be very flirtatious with you and this might catch you off guard. they are a shy baby, but underneath that surface is a whole new world that will be unlocked only as time passes by and when trust is built from both ends. they might struggle showing affection sometimes, but they'll try their best to make you feel wanted and loved.

hi loves!! i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot & oracle cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, feelings and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

જ⁀➴ all credit for the pictures & dividers goes to their rightful owners and creators.

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl) & Slade Wilson

After a short festive break, I'm back in force with my headcanons. My (hyper) brain has been obsessed with DC lately, so get ready for some DC headcanons with new characters I've never done before. I missed you all, love, Marie.

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- You didn’t mean to do it. Well, that’s a lie. You absolutely meant to do it. The way Bruce’s broad, suited figure strode past you in the Batcave was simply too tempting. There he was, the epitome of brooding composure, running a hand through his dark hair as he mulled over crime scene reports. Without much thought, your hand acted on instinct. Smack. The sound echoed through the cavern like a gunshot. Bruce stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head, an arched eyebrow lifting to meet his ever-present scowl. "Really?" he asked, voice calm but laced with that unmistakable Wayne edge.

- His reaction wasn’t anger, though you could see the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. You, the only one in Gotham—or perhaps the world—who could dare to breach his stoicism with something so mundane as a playful swat. You crossed your arms, feigning innocence, though your smirk betrayed you. “What? Just testing your reflexes, Mr. Wayne.” He took a slow step toward you, his shadow sprawling like a cloak. “I thought you’d want to keep that hand intact,” he murmured, but there was warmth in his voice that belied the threat.

- Bruce never let much show, but you knew the man beneath the cowl better than anyone. As much as he loved his mission, as much as he carried Gotham on his weary shoulders, he loved you more. There was no hiding the way his stern exterior softened around you, how his dark eyes gleamed with affection when he thought you weren’t looking. And now, despite his unflinching persona, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in the way he lingered near, uncertain if he should let himself laugh.

- “Next time,” he finally said, his voice low, “make sure Alfred isn’t around to hear it.” His lips quirked into the barest smile before he turned back to the Batcomputer. Yet, as he walked away, you could swear he slowed his stride, almost as if daring you to do it again. You didn’t, of course. Not then. But the idea of Gotham’s Dark Knight flustered by a simple smack was too delicious to forget. And Bruce knew it.

Clark Kent (Kal-El) aka. Superman

- Clark didn’t see it coming. How could he, when he was too busy carrying three bags of groceries in each hand and balancing a box of pastries in the crook of his elbow? You watched him shuffle toward the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his wholesome, Midwestern charm radiating even in the simplest acts. As he passed, you couldn’t resist. Smack. The clap of your hand against his ridiculously perfect backside made him jump slightly, the pastries nearly tumbling from his grip. “Hey!” he exclaimed, spinning around, cheeks flushed pink.

- For someone faster than a speeding bullet, Clark sure could get caught off guard by you. His face was an endearing mix of surprise and bashfulness, and you swore the man looked like he’d just been scolded by Ma Kent herself. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine confusion but also a hint of laughter. You shrugged, batting your lashes. “Couldn’t resist. You’re carrying so much cake, after all.” He groaned at the pun but couldn’t keep from smiling.

- Clark, despite his extraordinary origins, was at his core a simple man. A man who loved sharing quiet evenings with you, cooking together, and pretending the world didn’t need him for a little while. He was also devastatingly kind, a trait that extended to how he loved you—with full-hearted sincerity and no room for doubt. So when he looked at you now, shaking his head with a chuckle, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

- “You’re unbelievable,” he said, placing the pastries safely on the counter. Then, faster than you could blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with that impossible strength. “But if you’re going to tease, you’d better be prepared to deal with the consequences.” His grin was all boyish mischief as he tickled your sides, your laughter ringing through the kitchen. You swore he let you win when you finally broke free. Clark Kent, the strongest man alive, completely at your mercy.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry didn’t even stop moving. You were sure he noticed, though, because as you walked past him in the hallway and your hand made contact with his backside, he nearly tripped over his own feet. For the Flash, that was saying something. “Did you just—” he started, spinning to face you. His words were drowned out by your laughter as he stood there, red-faced and wide-eyed, his usual chatter momentarily short-circuited.

- “What?” you asked innocently, though your grin betrayed you. Barry spluttered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I wasn’t expecting that!” he managed, his voice pitching higher than usual. You loved how easy it was to fluster him, even though he was one of the smartest, fastest people in the world. “You’ve got to work on your reaction time, hero,” you teased, winking as you sauntered away.

- Barry’s mind was racing, as it always did, but now it wasn’t just thoughts of his latest case or some quantum theory experiment. No, now it was you—how you could so effortlessly knock him off balance with a single playful act. He adored you for it, for the way you brought lightness and humor into his often chaotic, exhausting life. You were his anchor, his calm in the storm of velocity and danger.

- Later, when he zipped into the living room with snacks for your movie night, he couldn’t resist a little payback. As he placed the bowl of popcorn on the table, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “Tag,” he whispered, and before you could respond, he darted away, leaving a gentle swat on your hip in his wake. Your laughter followed him, echoing in the space he’d just vacated. Barry might be the fastest man alive, but you were the one who always left him breathless.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- You didn’t think it was possible to catch Diana off guard. The Amazon princess was grace and power personified, her every movement deliberate, her every action precise. But when you passed her in the sunlit garden and gave her a cheeky smack, she stopped mid-step. Her head turned slowly, her azure eyes narrowing as her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Did you just strike a warrior?” she asked, her voice a blend of amusement and mock reprimand.

- “A warrior with impeccable form,” you shot back, bold as ever. Diana’s laughter rang out, melodic and warm, her posture relaxing as she faced you fully. “You’re fortunate I consider this an act of affection,” she teased, stepping closer. The sunlight caught her dark hair, casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She was intimidating and beautiful, a goddess among mortals, yet in this moment, she was utterly human—and yours.

- Diana loved how unafraid you were of her strength, her presence. So many treated her like a distant, untouchable figure, but you reminded her that she was more than her titles or her mission. You made her laugh, you challenged her, and you weren’t afraid to be playful with her—even when it came to something as bold as this. She admired your spirit, your fire, the way you met her gaze without hesitation.

- “You realize,” she said, her tone mock-serious as she closed the gap between you, “that this is an invitation for retaliation.” Before you could react, her arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Her laughter joined yours as she spun you once before setting you back down. “Careful, my love,” she warned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “A warrior never forgets.” But the smile on her lips promised she’d never stop loving your daring nature.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- You should have known better than to smack Arthur Curry as he walked past, the salty scent of the sea clinging to him like a second skin. The man was built like a fortress, with muscles that rippled beneath his tank top and a stride that exuded the confidence of a king. As your hand connected with his backside, the smack echoed through the cozy beach house you shared. Arthur stopped mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned his head, a grin spreading across his rugged, sun-kissed face. “You sure you want to start this game, love?”

- He set down the fishing net he’d been carrying, his piercing green eyes narrowing playfully as he took a deliberate step toward you. You couldn’t help but laugh, holding your ground even as he loomed closer, his smirk promising trouble. “I couldn’t resist,” you said, your voice light. “It’s not every day a queen gets to remind her king who’s really in charge.” Arthur barked out a laugh, the sound deep and rich like the ocean waves outside. “Oh, is that so?” he rumbled, his hands finding his hips.

- Arthur loved your boldness, the way you matched his fiery spirit without hesitation. You were one of the few people who could keep up with him—whether it was challenging his quick temper, teasing his authority, or standing beside him when the burdens of two worlds weighed heavily on his shoulders. You weren’t afraid of his strength, his power, or the scars that told the story of his battles. Instead, you met him head-on, reminding him of the joy and levity he often forgot.

- “Alright,” he said finally, leaning down until his face was inches from yours, his grin widening. “But just remember—you started it.” Before you could react, his large hand swatted your hip, the playful strike making you gasp and laugh at the same time. “That’s for round one,” he teased, straightening as he headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if you’ve got the guts for round two.” You watched him go, shaking your head. King of the seas? More like king of cheeky comebacks.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- You didn’t even plan it. Hal Jordan had been walking past, cocky as ever in his flight jacket, tossing his keys onto the counter with that easy swagger that made your heart race and your patience thin in equal measure. Before you knew it, your hand moved of its own accord. Smack. The sound was sharp, and Hal froze, mid-step, his head snapping toward you. For a moment, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, finally, he broke into a grin. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

- Hal was never one to back down from a challenge, and you knew that all too well. “Careful,” he warned, his green eyes sparkling as he took a slow step toward you. “You’re playing with fire here, gorgeous.” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, please. If you’re so tough, you should be able to handle a little pat on the back. Or… elsewhere.” His laughter was immediate, loud and free, filling the room like music. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

- That was what Hal adored about you. He’d spent so much of his life surrounded by danger and responsibility—whether it was saving the universe as Green Lantern or pulling insane aerial stunts as a test pilot. But you? You were his gravity, his reminder that life wasn’t all about proving himself. You made him laugh in a way no one else could, and even when you pushed his buttons, he couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with you each time.

- “Alright,” he said, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch. “You wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty.” Before you could react, Hal’s ring glowed, and a green construct of a feather appeared in his hand. “Let’s see how tough you are when the tables turn.” You squealed, darting behind the couch as he followed, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Hal Jordan might be fearless, but you knew his real weakness—your laugh, your smile, your ability to keep him on his toes.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen barely flinched when your hand smacked his backside as he walked past the kitchen counter, a bow slung over his shoulder. Instead, he stopped, cocking his head to the side with a slow smirk spreading across his handsome, scruffy face. “Well, that’s one way to get my attention,” he drawled, turning to face you. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could already tell he was plotting some form of retaliation. “Should I be worried, or was that just your way of saying ‘good shot’?”

- “You’ve been spending too much time in the field,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “Thought I’d remind you who really has the aim around here.” Oliver laughed, the sound warm and rich as he set his bow down carefully. “Oh, really? You think you can out-shoot me and out-smart me in my own house?” His tone was playful, but you knew the archer in him couldn’t resist a challenge.

- Oliver loved that about you—your boldness, your fire, the way you never let him take himself too seriously. It was a rare gift to be able to break through the walls he built around himself, the layers of guilt and responsibility he carried as Star City’s protector. But you didn’t just break through; you tore those walls down with humor, love, and a fearlessness that matched his own. You reminded him of the man beneath the hood, the one who still knew how to laugh and love.

- “Alright,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you in place. “But just so we’re clear—if this is your idea of flirting, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you deeply, stealing your breath and your smugness all at once. When he pulled back, his grin was pure Oliver Queen. “Your move, pretty bird.”

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- When your hand smacked John Constantine’s backside, his reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, throaty chuckle that promised trouble. He turned to face you, cigarette dangling from his lips, his trench coat swirling slightly with the motion. “Well, well, love,” he drawled, his voice tinged with that unmistakable cockney accent. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Careful now—you’re playing with fire.”

- “Oh, please,” you shot back, smirking. “You deal with demons, curses, and apocalyptic prophecies daily. You can handle a little slap.” His grin widened, and he took a step closer, the scent of tobacco and leather surrounding you. “You’ve got some cheek, you know that?” he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ash into the tray. “But that’s why I keep you around. Keeps me on my toes.”

- John wasn’t used to this—lightness, laughter, love. His life was a whirlwind of darkness and chaos, and yet, somehow, you had wormed your way into his blackened heart. You brought him peace in a way no spell or sigil ever could. And while he’d never admit it outright, he adored the way you challenged him, kept him grounded, and gave him something to fight for beyond his own self-loathing.

- “But fair warning, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that sent shivers down your spine, “I don’t play fair.” Before you could react, he whispered a quick spell under his breath, and suddenly, your shoes were glued to the floor. “There,” he said with a wink, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Let’s see if you’re still so bold when you can’t run away.” Your laughter filled the room as he walked off, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Classic Constantine—always one step ahead, but always hopelessly smitten with you.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- You really couldn’t resist. Roy Harper had been strutting around the apartment like he owned the place, shirtless, a bow slung across his back, humming some old rock tune under his breath. His cocky energy was palpable, and when he passed by you in the living room, it was instinctive. Smack. Your hand connected with his jean-clad backside, and the sound was sharp enough to cut through his off-key singing. Roy froze, turning slowly with a look of mock betrayal. “Did you just…? Oh, you’re really asking for it now, gorgeous.”

- You leaned back against the couch, smirking. “What? Just checking if Arsenal’s reflexes are still sharp.” Roy placed a hand on his hip, pointing at you with the other. “You’re lucky I didn’t just shoot an arrow in surprise,” he teased, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he was anything but annoyed. “But fine. If we’re doing this, let me warn you—I don’t fight fair.”

- Roy loved that you didn’t take him too seriously. In a life full of chaos, mistakes, and battles, you were his sanctuary, the one person who could knock him off his pedestal in the best way. Your playful antics reminded him that not everything had to be about proving himself or fighting the next big battle. You were his partner in every sense of the word—his laughter, his balance, his home.

- “Alright, beautiful,” he said, dropping the bow and cracking his knuckles. “You know what happens when you mess with me, right?” Before you could react, he pounced, pinning you to the couch in an exaggerated wrestling move that had both of you laughing uncontrollably. “This is justice!” he declared dramatically, tickling your sides until you were begging for mercy. Roy Harper was impossible, but then again, so were you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- The reaction was immediate. As your hand connected with Koriand’r’s backside while she passed you in the hallway, she stopped mid-step, her fiery hair glowing faintly as it caught the light. Slowly, she turned to face you, her wide green eyes blinking in confusion. “Was that… an Earth custom of affection?” she asked, her tone curious but tinged with amusement. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, her innocent confusion melting any attempt at feigned innocence. “Sure, Kori. It’s totally a custom. Very common.”

- Kori tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her beautiful features. “How interesting,” she said, stepping closer to you. “On Tamaran, we express affection with embraces, kisses, and occasionally by flying into the air with loved ones. But this… this is new. I like it!” Her radiant smile made your heart flutter, and you could see the mischief spark in her gaze. “Does this mean I can do it back?”

- You adored how open and loving Kori was. She embraced life with the same passion she brought to battle, and her joy was contagious. Loving her meant constantly learning to see the world through her eyes, where every experience—big or small—was worth celebrating. You could never get enough of the way she made even the smallest moments feel like an adventure.

- “You may want to prepare yourself!” she declared suddenly, her arms wrapping around you in a warm, powerful embrace. Before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly off the ground, spinning you in circles as laughter bubbled out of both of you. When she finally set you down, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a playful tap on your backside. “This is a wonderful custom!” she declared with a bright giggle. You’d created a monster, and you couldn’t have been happier about it.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn she was carrying when your hand smacked her backside. Nearly. Her Kryptonian reflexes kicked in, and she saved the snack, spinning around with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. “Did you just…?!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. You leaned casually against the counter, biting back a grin. “What? Just making sure Earth’s strongest woman doesn’t have any blind spots.”

- “Blind spots?!” Kara exclaimed, placing the bowl down with exaggerated care. “You’re lucky I don’t fly you straight into the stratosphere for that.” But the way she crossed her arms and pouted made it clear she wasn’t actually upset. If anything, she was flustered—adorably so. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

- Kara loved how comfortable you were around her. So many people treated her like a symbol or a savior, but you just treated her like Kara. You teased her, laughed with her, and never let her powers overshadow the fact that she was just a girl trying to navigate life on a new planet. Being with you grounded her, reminded her that even superheroes deserved to let their guard down and have fun.

- “Fine,” she said finally, her lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “But don’t think I won’t get you back.” Before you could respond, she darted forward at super-speed, giving your side a playful nudge that sent you stumbling into the couch. She was back in her original spot before you could blink, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on her face. “Kryptonians don’t lose, you know,” she teased, her laughter filling the room.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to do it. Slade Wilson wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, but as he passed you in the training room, his armor catching the dim light, the temptation was too strong. Your hand smacked his backside, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet space. He stopped immediately, his head turning just enough for his single visible eye to lock onto you. The sharp, dangerous glint in his gaze made your heart race. “You’re braver than I thought,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

- “And you’re slower than I thought,” you shot back, unable to resist. His brow arched, and you could see the corner of his mouth twitch—was that amusement? “Careful,” he warned, stepping closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. “You might find out just how fast I can be.” Despite his intimidating presence, you refused to back down, crossing your arms and smirking up at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

- Slade had always admired your boldness. In a world where most people either feared him or tried to use him, you were a refreshing change. You didn’t treat him like a weapon or a monster—you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who carried the weight of too many sins. Your audacity, your fire, reminded him of the parts of himself he thought he’d buried long ago.

- “Alright,” he said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “But don’t forget—every action has a consequence.” Before you could respond, his hand darted out, delivering a sharp but playful swat to your hip. You gasped, more in surprise than pain, and he straightened, his smirk now fully formed. “Your move,” he said, turning and walking away with the measured confidence of a man who always had the upper hand. And yet, you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For all his gruffness, Slade Wilson was undeniably charmed by you.

[icharchivist]

Randall's valentine's card is so pretty,,,

IT ISSSSS HE'S SO PRETTY!!! and the colors and pose look so nice i love it so much!! He's so good oghhhhh

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Heartslabyul

Go here for other dorms

Riddle Rosehearts

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you approach Riddle. He’s seated in the Heartslabyul garden, engrossed in a book, completely unaware that his life is about to change forever.

Your hands are sweating. Fantastic. Nothing says “I love you” like handing someone a heart-shaped box drenched in pure nervousness.

“Riddle,” you say, voice admirably steady despite the chaos in your soul.

He looks up, eyes widening slightly at your presence. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

You very calmly thrust the box toward him like a knight presenting a sacred relic. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I made this for you.”

The change is immediate.

Riddle freezes, his entire face flaring up like a traffic light on its final warning. His fingers twitch as he hesitantly accepts the box, staring at it as if you’d just handed him the crown of a foreign kingdom.

“You… made this? For me?” His voice is slightly higher than usual. The poor guy is barely holding it together.

You nod, feeling your heart slam against your ribs. “Yeah. And, um… I like you. A lot.”

For a second, you’re terrified he might actually faint. His ears are burning, his posture unnaturally stiff as he processes your words in real time. You can practically see the gears in his head jamming.

Then, slowly, carefully, he sets the box on the table beside him, takes a breath, and stands.

And before you can react, he takes your hand in his, bows slightly, and presses the lightest, most delicate kiss against your knuckles.

It’s so soft. So warm. So utterly, devastatingly polite—yet scandalously romantic—that your brain completely short-circuits.

He lifts his gaze to yours, still impossibly red but full of something achingly genuine. “I… accept your feelings,” he murmurs, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “And I—I… I like you as well."

You’re gone. This is too much. His flustered sincerity should not be this cute.

Riddle clears his throat, attempting to compose himself—but he absolutely fails because his blush is creeping down his neck now. “A-Anyway. Shall we have tea together? I’d… like to enjoy this properly.”

You nod, still speechless.

Somehow, this went even better than expected.

Trey Clover

You’re standing in an empty classroom, clutching your carefully wrapped box of chocolates like it’s a lifeline. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the absolute hurricane of nerves raging inside you.

Trey stands across from you, looking as effortlessly cool and put-together as ever, the picture of someone who probably never panics over something as simple as chocolate. Which is unfair, actually, because you’ve been agonizing over this moment.

“I, uh…” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I made these for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Trey blinks in surprise before his expression softens into something warm. “Oh?” He takes the box with careful hands, like it’s something precious. “You made these yourself?”

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to watch him open it, your stomach twisting into a knot. “Yeah. I know they’re probably not as good as what you make, but—”

“You’re nervous.”

You flinch when you feel the lightest touch under your chin, his fingers tilting your face up. You hadn’t even noticed him stepping closer.

Your breath catches when you meet his eyes. They’re so gentle, full of something soft and unreadable, and suddenly, this moment feels a lot bigger than just some chocolates.

“You really think I’d compare this to something I bake?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing just below your eyes before dropping away. “You made this for me. That alone makes it special.”

Your heart is going through it.

“I—” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts before you combust. “Trey, I like you. That’s… that’s why I wanted to do this.”

There’s a small pause. And then—his smile.

It’s real, not his usual easygoing grin but something genuine, touched, and just a little bit shy.

“I like you too,” he says, his voice warm as honey.

Oh. Oh.

You barely have time to process it before he straightens up, still holding the chocolates in one hand while the other slides into his pocket. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Let me walk you back.”

You blink. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His smile quirks at the edges, teasing now. “Gotta make sure you don’t run off before I can ask you out properly, right?”

Your heart is doomed.

Cater Diamond

You find Cater in a quiet hallway between classes, leaning against the wall and idly scrolling through his phone. The second he notices you approaching, he perks up, flashing you an easy grin.

"Hey, hey! Fancy seeing you here." His eyes flicker down to the heart-shaped box in your hands, and his grin turns teasing. "Ooooh, what’s this? Someone’s got a Valentine?”

Your stomach is doing backflips. But you force yourself to hold out the box, pretending you’re not dying inside.

“For you,” you manage, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck.

Cater blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful energy pauses, just for a second.

“For me?” His voice is light, but there’s something in it—something careful. “Like… me, me?”

You nod, heart hammering. “Yeah. I like you, Cater. That’s… why I made them.”

And for the first time ever, you see Cater Diamond speechless.

He just stands there, staring at you like you’ve just told him the greatest plot twist of the century. Then, all at once, his grin returns—brighter, realer, and just a little bit unsteady.

“You’re serious?” He lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “Like, you—out of everyone—actually like me?”

“Obviously?” You shift the box toward him, raising a brow. “You gonna take these or what?”

The teasing snaps him out of it, and he laughs, reaching forward to grab the chocolates and, in the same movement, presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your brain blue-screens.

“There,” he says, still grinning as he pulls back. “A little thank-you for totally making my day.”

You open your mouth—whether to yell, combust, or actually form words, you’re not sure—but he’s already linking his arm with yours, spinning you both toward the exit.

“Sooo, where do you wanna go for our first date?”

“What—wait, first date?”

“Duh!” He holds up the chocolates with a wink. “You confess, I accept, we date—it’s the natural order of things.”

An absolute success.

Ace Trappola

You don’t even get the chance to find Ace before Ace finds you.

"Whoa, what’s this?" His voice is all mock innocence as he suddenly appears at your side, eyes locked onto the box of chocolates in your hands. He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s just witnessed a scandal unfold. "No way. You? Giving out chocolates? Some poor soul's gonna get victimized today."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Victimized?"

"Yeah, y'know—" He gestures vaguely, rocking back on his heels. "Swept up, led on, utterly ruined for anyone else. Tragic, really."

He’s dying of jealousy. You can see it. Feel it. Smell it in the air like cheap cologne.

You roll your eyes, already fed up. "Well, if you’re so concerned, maybe I should just eat them myself."

Ace laughs. "What, you’d steal your own chocolates? That’s cold."

"Not really, considering they were meant for you."

Silence.

Ace stares at you, frozen mid-smirk. His brain just blue-screened. You can see the processing bar loading at 2% completion.

"...Huh?"

You sigh, shifting the box in your hands. "I made them for you, dumbass. But if you don’t want them, I guess—"

You don’t get to finish that sentence because suddenly, Ace is clutching the box to his chest like it’s the last treasure on earth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up—who said I didn’t want them? I want them!" He’s grinning now, the brightest, cockiest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen on him. "You serious? You really made these for me?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah. But you’re being a brat, so I kinda regret it now."

"Nah, too late! No take-backs!" He laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. Then—softer, realer, a little bit breathless— "You really like me, huh?"

You hesitate, suddenly flustered under the weight of his gaze. "...Yeah."

His fingers tighten around the box. "Good. 'Cause I like you too."

Your breath catches.

Ace tilts his head, there’s a warmth in his eyes now—something soft, relieved, like he’s been waiting for this. "Thought you’d never notice, y’know? Been here the whole time, just waiting."

You scoff, rolling your eyes to cover how fast your heart is beating. "And yet you were so ready to tease me about it."

"Of course!" He throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning like he’s just won the lottery. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t mess with you at least a little?"

"Boyfriend?!"

"Uh, yeah? You confessed, I accepted, now you’re stuck with me forever. Basic math."

Mission accomplished (You think?)

Deuce Spade

It’s just another casual hangout, nothing out of the ordinary—except for the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’ve been hiding behind your back like it’s a live explosive.

Deuce is sitting on your couch, totally unaware of the internal chaos happening mere feet away. He’s relaxed, chatting about his day, but the second you clear your throat and step forward, he pauses mid-sentence, sensing danger.

"Uh… you good?" he asks, blinking up at you.

"Yeah. Fine. Totally normal." You inhale, ignore the full-body cringe threatening to consume you, and hold out the box. "This is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day."

Deuce freezes. Like, actually freezes.

His eyes dart between you and the chocolates like he’s trying to make sure this isn’t some cruel prank. His hands are shaking just a little when he reaches out, carefully accepting the box like it might disappear if he blinks too fast.

"You—" His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, ears burning red. "You made these? For me?"

You nod, trying so hard to play it cool. "Yeah. I like you, so… yeah."

For a second, nothing happens. Then—his grin.

It’s shy, just a little wobbly, but so ridiculously bright that your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

"You… like me," he repeats, as if he needs to say it out loud to believe it.

"Unless you don’t want them, in which case, I can just—"

"No!" He clutches the box to his chest like it’s his most prized possession. "No way, I—I want them. I just—" He exhales, a little breathless, still grinning like an idiot. "I can’t believe this is happening."

You barely have time to process that before he straightens up, determination flickering in his eyes.

"Can I—" He swallows. "Can I take you on a date? I mean, since you—since we—" He gestures vaguely at the chocolates, too flustered to form a proper sentence.

You laugh, heart so stupidly full. "Yeah, Deuce. I’d love that."

His breath catches. Then he nods—fast, like he’s locking it in before reality can take it away. "O-Okay. Cool. Great. I’ll—I'll plan something good, I promise."

You grin. "I’d expect nothing less."

Deuce beams.

He looks down at the chocolates again, still holding them like the most precious thing in the world.

And honestly? You think this might be the best decision you’ve ever made.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[macabrebatz]

SOMETHING THERE (Caged Warcraft Orc/Reader)

Summary: Orcs have invaded your world and you're tasked with taking care of a very angry, very injured imprisoned orc. But he's not the only one that's going to be taken care of.

Author’s Note: Hello, lovelies! A little while ago I got sent an ask here about the captured orc in the movie Warcraft (you can read the post here). I love the concept so much that I just had to write about him. He's unnamed in the movie so I just refer to him as an orc throughout this. This can be read as a generic orc x human story but just know this was written specifically with this big drooling guy in mind. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, fem! reader, orc x human, canon divergent, smut with some plot, teratophillia/monsterfucking, injured character, conversation about mates, teasing, size difference (this orc is bigger than you no matter your size), let's pretend that Warcraft orcs would actually fit for a moment, fingering, standing sex, rough sex, unprotected p in v, some degradation, possessiveness, he's mean I don't know what else to tell you, choking, hair pulling, semi public sex (?), Lothar makes an appearance, no aftercare, NOT beta read

Word count: 4.7k

Your job had been straightforward for the most part. You were a handmaiden often tasked with cleaning and maintaining the kingdom's dungeons. There had never been many prisoners kept in the lower parts of the castle, not while you had been of service there at least. Most of the time the cells were empty and you were often tasked with taking care of other parts of the castle instead, places frequently overlooked by the other maids.

But all of a sudden you found yourself busier than usual when a handful of knights dragged in a nearly dead creature of the likes you had never seen before. It took multiple men to pull him down the steps of the dungeons and into a barred cell.

Lothar, a man you had become friends with, followed behind his fellow knights, watching as they hovered around the prisoner.

“What exactly is he?” you asked quietly.

You had met all types of denizens of Azeroth. Elves, dwarves, worgen….but never anyone like the large, tusked man that laid before you.

Lothar shrugged, not knowing the answer to the question.

“If I knew I would tell you. They just…showed up. I don’t know where they came from. Or how many there are. We took the other one to the king for questioning. She’s tiny compared to the rest of them,” he mumbled.

You looked down at the floor, staring at the smeared trail of blood leading from the stairs to the cell.

“He’s wounded?” you questioned, looking back at the cell.

“Yes, he was going to attack the other one we captured. Can you keep him alive?” Lothar asked.

You nodded. You had cared for injured and sick prisoners before. Some of them probably wouldn’t have lived if it wasn’t for you.

“I’ll need supplies though.”

“I’ll get you everything you need. Just be careful and try to keep your distance as much as possible. He doesn’t seem to be the friendliest,” he said.

Lothar left you with the other knights, disappearing up the stairs. After a few minutes, he returned with a box of supplies, far more than enough to heal any wounds. He ushered the other knights out and wished you luck as he sauntered away.

You had unlocked the cell and spent a considerable amount of time trying to remove the rugged bone armor and leather from the sleeping creature's chest. You then began cleaning and stitching the stab wound, silently cursing Lothar for creating such a nasty wound to begin with. Never once did the being move or wake. His breathing was weak and a part of you thought he might die right then and there from the amount of blood he had lost.

But his chest continued to rise and fall as you snipped the end of the stitches with your shears. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you sat there for a moment, watching the sleeping creature.

He was large, bigger than any human you had ever seen. He had long greying hair and an untamed beard. Although his eyes were closed you could tell that one had been previously injured, the skin around it scarred and almost red. On the opposite side of his face, a deep scar ran from his lip up the side of his face. There were pieces of metal embedded in the skin where the wound had been closed and healed over the metal.

There was a part of you, deep inside your mind that found the rugged stranger quite attractive. But you ignored that part of your mind, pushing those thoughts aside. You knew nothing about the being that laid before you and you weren’t going to let curiosity get the better of you.

You wrapped a bandage around his shoulder and chest, something that proved to be quite difficult with how large he was. But you managed to do it regardless, securing the bandage so it wouldn’t move.

You stood up and walked out of the cell, closing the door behind you.

There was still blood all over the floor and you quickly turned your attention to that, scrubbing the floors by hand, something you had done time and time again.

About an hour passed and as you found yourself on your knees, scrubbing the last bit of blood off the floor you heard shuffling. You glanced over your shoulder to see the creature waking up, slowly sitting up, reaching for his chest and grimacing in pain.

He shook his head and looked around, growling as he slowly became more conscious. His head turned, stopping when his eyes laid on you. For a moment neither of you moved, staring at each other, but then the creature lurched forward toward the bars and let out a roar. You jumped back in surprise, almost knocking over the bucket of water sitting beside you.

The roar ceased as he grabbed his chest once again, falling onto his knees in pain. Your fear was quickly replaced with worry, standing up quickly and walking closer to the cell.

“You can’t do that. You’ll make the wound open back up,” you said.

He snarled and said something in a language you had never heard before. He sat back against the wall, glaring at you.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” you said.

He didn’t say anything else. He just sat there, grumbling and holding his chest.

And that’s how almost every day had gone for weeks. He would over-exert himself out of anger, trying to break through the bars of his cell. You would scold him, telling him he needed to rest, which he would ignore. He would yell at you in his native tongue and you would ignore him, setting down food and water in front of the bars, just enough for him to reach the plate but not you.

Some days the yelling and banging on the bars would get so loud that the knights that stood guard at the entrance of the dungeon came rushing in, scared for your safety. You would shoo them away, assuring the worried knights that you were fine. They were honestly happy to leave, not wanting to be so close to the creature behind the bars.

Not all days were like that though. Sometimes he was quiet, too tired to do his usual routine of raging. On those days you would talk to him while you cleaned or while he sat and ate, filling the void of silence with your voice.

You would just talk about things on your mind, gossip from the other handmaidens, stories you had heard from the knights that would try to flirt with you and impress you with their war stories. The table and chair that had been set out for you slowly inched closer every day as you sat and talked to him during lunch.

You rarely ever had anyone to talk to throughout the day. Sometimes one of the knights would join you for lunch or Lothar would talk with you as you cleaned when he wasn’t busy, but it was a rare occasion. So now you found yourself droning on to the prisoner during your time spent cleaning and your breaks. He didn’t seem to mind but you honestly couldn’t tell. His face often had some form of a grimace on it, a snarl always daring to creep up.

You weren’t sure if he could understand you either until one day, while the two of you ate, you finally asked him a question that had been on your mind.

“What exactly are you? Lothar hasn’t answered the question yet. You’re not human…not an elf. Your teeth are kind of like a troll’s teeth. A bit smaller than theirs though,” you rambled.

You didn’t expect him to say anything. On days like this, he never said anything. After a moment, he broke the silence with one word.

“Orc.”

You looked up from where you sat, glancing through the bars of the cell. He was looking back at you, his working eye staring at you.

“An orc? That’s what you are?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“So you’ve been able to understand me this entire time?”

“Yes.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. He didn’t say anything for the rest of the day.

A couple more weeks passed and the caged orc had seemingly calmed down. He no longer yelled and raged on, often sitting in silence.

But sometimes he would speak, occasionally answering questions you had about orcs and his culture. He was often cold, even mean when it came to replying, but you simply shook it off.

You asked him about his cloudy eye and the large scar running up his face. That seemed to perk him up. For the first time in almost a month, his cold demeanor dropped. He told you about the fights he won, boasting about how many times he had come close to death. It was the first time he had ever been talkative. Usually, he would give short responses to your questions but now he was painting vivid pictures for you as he told a story for every scar.

“And this,” he brought his hand up to the healing stab wound on his chest, “is nothing. A scratch.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You laugh, but it’s true. Your tiny knights couldn’t kill me if they tried,” he said.

“Lothar came pretty close,” you chuckled.

He frowned, a growl escaping his lips as he stood up and slowly walked towards you. You sat just out of reach from him, you had moved your table even closer to the cell over the past few days. Despite his gruff attitude he had begun to grow on you. You enjoyed talking to him and maybe even staring at him a little.

You took a sip from your water as he stepped closer, gripping his hand around one of the metal bars.

“You talk about that one a lot. Is he your mate?” he questioned, his voice low.

The question took you by surprise, causing you to choke on your water.

“No…no. He’s not. We’re not…no,” you said in between coughs.

The orc hummed, sounding almost amused by your answer and frantic coughing.

“No? One of the other knights then? Or one of those handmaidens you’re always talking about?” the orc asked.

You shook your head as you sat your glass down.

“I don’t have a…mate.” The word felt foreign to your lips. You could feel your face heat up as you frowned, averting your eyes from the orc.

There was a small moment of silence before you heard him chuckle, the sound of his voice echoing off the stone walls.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m sure you’ll find a puny little knight one of these days. Although I doubt they could keep you satisfied,” he said.

Your jaw dropped a bit, shocked by the sudden forwardness of the orc.

“I think I’ll be satisfied,” you said, scoffing.

“I highly doubt it. The men of your species seem…inadequate,” he said, sitting back down.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. Why was he talking about this? What was he getting at?

You shook your head, deciding to change the subject.

“How is your wound?” you asked.

“I told you. It’s just a scratch,” he mumbled.

“You were stabbed with a sword. You’re lucky you’re even alive,” you sighed.

He scoffed, sounding offended that you would even suggest that he could’ve died.

“May I please check it? To make sure it’s not infected?” you asked.

“I guess,” he grumbled.

You stood up, walking closer to the cell. You swore you could hear Lothar in your mind scolding you for doing exactly what he said not to do. But you couldn’t exactly keep your distance if you wanted to do your job properly.

The orc leaned towards the metal bars as your hands snaked through, untucking the bandages and slowly pulling them off of his chest. The orc grimaced at the sensation, traces of dried blood had caused the bandages to stick to his skin. You hadn’t had the opportunity to clean it. It was the first time since he had first arrived that you felt comfortable enough to get close enough to examine him.

“It looks…fine. It could use a little cleaning though. Wish I had a healing potion to give you but I don’t know any alchemists,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I don’t need any of that,” he grumbled, looking down at you.

“At least let me clean it. Surely dying from infection isn’t the way you want to go,” you joked.

“Fine,” he chuckled.

You smiled. It was odd hearing the orc laugh but you found it slightly endearing.

You turned, grabbing your supplies from the table and turning back around to the orc. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned his skin with a washcloth, wiping away all of the traces of dried blood.

“No mate,” the orc said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You have no mate,” he said.

Really, this subject again?

“Yes, I thought we established this?” you asked.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why are you so interested in this subject?” you mumbled.

“You ask stupid questions all the time. Why can I not ask you a question?” he said.

You rolled your eyes and looked away from him, focusing your attention back on his wound.

“I don’t know. Just haven’t found the right person. Why do you care anyway? It’s not like we could be mates,” you huffed.

“And why is that?”

He was looking down at you. You felt your face heat up a bit as you averted your gaze.

“You’re too…mean. And grumpy. And I’m ninety percent sure you were going to try to kill me for the first few weeks you were here,” you said.

You turned away from him, grabbing a new roll of gauze.

“I’m not trying to kill you now,” he said.

You unrolled the gauze and started wrapping it around his chest.

“Yeah…I know. Can we please drop this subject? It’s not like I would be your type anyway.”

“Type?” he questioned, not understanding the phrase.

“Your type. It’s what you’re attracted to. Now shush and let me finish,” you said.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. All of a sudden it was becoming very hard to think clearly. Something about being so close to the orc while he was watching your every movement was managing to make your head foggy. Sure, you found him attractive. Something about his ruggedness and size was alluring. But you never expected him to make your knees weak. And he hadn’t even done anything to you.

You did your best to ignore whatever feelings were brewing inside of you as you finished bandaging his chest.

“There,” you said, “all better.”

“Thank you,” the orc grumbled.

The rest of the day came and went quietly, all without a word about the previous conversation. You found yourself staring at him. Your stomach felt fluttery and it was becoming more and more difficult to suppress what you had felt all along.

When you went to bed that night you couldn’t help but repeat the conversation in your head, completely puzzled by the orcs’ fascination with the fact that you were ‘unmated’.

Such an odd thing to be hung up on.

What was worse was that your own fascination with the orc seemed to be getting stronger.

So much so that you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned all night, your mind racing just at the thought of the imprisoned orc.

So much so that when you finally did fall asleep, you dreamed about him. You were being held by him in your dream, the same way you had hoped to one day be held by a knight or maybe even a skillful mage. But for some odd reason, the thought of being held by the orc brought you more comfort than every silly knight fantasy you ever had.

So much so that the next day you found yourself scooting your table and chair closer to his cell. Something you had already done but now you were repeating the process every day for a week, slowly inching it closer and closer.

So much so that you started to purposely loosen the laces at the top of your dress. At this point, you weren’t sure what was overtaking your mind. You found yourself wanting to tease him, something you never thought you’d do.

So much so that you had been lingering in the dungeon well past the curfew given to the maids. You wanted to be in his presence. To say he was growing on you was an understatement.

So much so that about a week later when you bent down to pick up his plate, something you had done every day since he arrived, you didn’t walk away from the cell.

This time the orc gripped you by your hair, yanking you back hard against the bars of the cell. You yelped as the plate dropped to the floor. He let go of your hair and his hand snaked through the bars, wrapping it around your throat. His other hand rested on your stomach, holding you in place.

“Are you done teasing?” he asked as his grip tightened around your throat.

“Teasing?” you squeaked.

“Do you really think I’m clueless? Every day you get closer and closer to this cage. You’ve been staying in here late at night. And your breasts have practically been falling out of your dress. It’s almost like you’re begging me to rip it off you,” he growled.

He was absolutely right. You had been caught red-handed.

“Are you going to explain yourself, human?”

He had you pressed against him so tightly that it was almost hard to breathe. You could feel something hardening against your backside and that fluttery feeling started building in your stomach.

“I just…”

“You just what?” he said.

“I just want you to touch me,” you said just above a whisper.

“Say that again. I didn’t quite hear you.”

You couldn’t see his face but you just knew there was a smirk plastered across it.

“Touch me. I want you to touch me,” you repeated.

“Just a few days ago I was ‘too mean’ for you but now look at you. All needy. Maybe if you ask nicely. Maybe if you beg,” he hummed.

Now he was the one teasing. He didn’t move, his hands didn’t even flinch. He just held you tight, pressing you against his erection.

“Please. May you please touch me?”

You were almost whining, pushing back against him. He chuckled, finding your neediness amusing.

He let go of your throat and turned you around so you were facing him. Sticking his hand through the cell, he brought it up to your bust and gripped your dress, ripping the fabric down the front like it was a piece of parchment. You gasped as it fell to the ground, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

“I liked that dress,” you pouted.

Not to mention the fact that it was technically your work uniform. A problem you would deal with later you supposed.

“You look better without it. Now take those off unless you want them ripped as well,” he said, looking down at you.

You nodded as you slipped off your undergarments, tossing them to the side.

He pulled you closer to the bars until you were almost pressed against them, lifting up one of your legs with his hand, cupping underneath your knee. His free hand snaked down and one of his large fingers found its way to your cunt, spreading apart your folds.

“You might as well be dripping. Already so wet and I haven’t even got started yet,” he said.

The orc didn’t give you time to respond as he slowly began pushing his finger inside of you, stretching you out as your walls wrapped around his massive digit. A moan escaped your lips and it echoed throughout the room.

“Sshhh, be quiet,” he shushed you, as he began to pump his finger inside of you.

His thumb rubbed against your clit, drawing little circles around it as his other fingers thrust in and out of your pussy.

You mindlessly ground into his hand, adding to the friction and causing ripples of pleasure to shoot through your body. You had never felt this full before. The size of one of his fingers was almost triple the size of a human’s.

Soon he was adding a second finger, gathering your wetness and pushing into your entrance, curling with every thrust of his hand.

“Gotta stretch you out if you want to take me,” he mumbled, fucking his hand into you at a quicker pace.

Your legs were trembling and you could feel yourself clenching around his fingers. His thumb rolled over your clit faster, pressing down on the sensitive bud.

You did your best to stifle your moan as your orgasm hit you.

“There you go. Cum on my hand,” he said.

One of your hands gripped onto a cell bar while the other reached through, reaching up and pressing against his shoulder for support.

He didn’t give you time to recover before his fingers slipped out of you and his other hand let go of your leg. His hands unfastened his pelt, revealing his hardened cock underneath. It felt like there was a lump in your throat as you swallowed, looking down at it. You could see why he insisted on stretching you out beforehand. You were a bit worried about it fitting inside of you.

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit,” he said as if he could read your mind, “Now turn around and bend over.”

You did as he said, turning your back towards him and leaning down. His hand grazed over your ass for a moment, giving it a light squeeze before he reached forward and grabbed your arms. He held your wrists behind your back, his large hands covering them completely. His other hand held his cock, sliding it against your clit, teasing you with the head.

You groaned, wanting to push back on him, but he held you firmly in place.

He slid his cock towards your entrance and began slowly pushing into the hole. You stretched around him, the feeling felt so new to you that it sent shivers up your spine. Although his fingers had done a good job stretching you out, it was still nowhere enough to accommodate the size of the orcs’ cock.

You felt him tug ever so slightly on your wrists, pulling your entire body closer to him, sliding into you at an agonizing pace.

Another moan began to slip from your mouth, unintentionally loud. Before it could come all the way out, his hand moved from your wrists to your mouth, muffling your moan as he continued slowly pushing his cock into you. He growled, a low rumble coming from his chest.

“Shush, you don’t want your little knights to come running in here, do you? You want them to see you like this?”

You shook your head, slightly horrified at the thought of a knight walking in, especially if that knight happened to be Lothar. You hadn’t even given that possibility a thought.

“Then be quiet for once,” the orc said.

You nodded, and his hand slipped away from your mouth. This time it settled on your shoulder, his other hand slipping off his cock and gripping onto your hip.

He held onto you as he began to slowly rock into you, thrusting the rest of his length into you. Your back arched as pain and pleasure crept up inside of you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked in a patronizing tone.

His hips were slamming against you, he was giving you no amount of time to adjust to his size. His balls slapped against your cunt with every thrust. That and the sound of you squelching around him radiated through the dungeon.

He reached forward, gripping your hair once more, pulling you all the way to the bars. You hissed as he yanked your head back.

“I asked you a question. Is this what you wanted?” he questioned.

“Yes. Ah-yes, this is what I wanted,” you said.

He let go of your hair, pushing you back down with his hand as he continued to pound into you through the cell bars.

“Look at you. Pathetic human. Taking my cock like a greedy slut,” he chuckled.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your moans. Every thrust was unrelenting. You could feel him sliding against that spongy spot inside of you and it was slowly pushing you closer to the edge.

You were getting louder and louder, whimpering as the orc fucked you.

His thrusts suddenly halted and you whined.

“No, why’d you stop?” you asked, near tears.

“I thought I told you to be quiet?”

“You did but-“

“But what?” he said.

“Please keep fucking me. I don’t care if they hear us. I only care about you,” you pleaded.

You weren’t sure what had overcome you but it was true. In that moment all you cared about was the orc behind you.

There was a brief pause before the orcs’ hands were wrapping around you, pulling you as close as he possibly could despite the cell bars between you. It was like something snapped in him as he began rutting into you, burying his cock deep inside of you with every roll of his hips.

You moaned, not caring if anyone heard you. You were so wrapped up in the pleasure that you weren’t even sure if you cared anymore if someone walked in.

“You’re mine, do you understand? I’ve ruined you. None of those pathetic knights can have this,” the orc growled behind you.

You were at a loss for words as ecstasy washed over you, too in a daze to answer.

“You don’t want them anyway, huh? I’ve stretched you out so much that only I’ll be able to satisfy you.”

You didn’t say anything but your body answered for you, clenching around his cock as he fucked you. And he noticed, grip tightening around you almost immediately like he was afraid you’d somehow slip away.

“Oh, you like that? You like that I’ve ruined you for everyone else? You want me to make you my mate, don’t you?” he said.

You found yourself nodding your head, not even thinking about it. Maybe it was just the pleasure or maybe there was truly something else. Something there deep in the back of your mind that wanted more of him.

“All mine,” he groaned.

Your body shook as you reached your second climax, moaning as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. That’s it. Cum on my cock. Just like that,” he grunted, still thrusting into you.

You were whimpering underneath him, slowly becoming overstimulated as he chased his own high, bucking into you. His cock twitched as he moaned, cumming deep inside of you. His hands were still wrapped around you, holding you through the bars as he filled you up.

Before you could pull away there were sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Your mind was too foggy to even react when you looked up, seeing the all too familiar face of Lothar stopping at the dungeon entrance.

“Oh my….what are you two…put some clothes on!”

Lothar had covered his eyes with his hand, completely in shock.

The orc chuckled, letting go of you completely. Your legs buckled underneath you and you stumbled forward, slipping off his cock and falling to the ground.

You heard the jingle of keys before they were tossed near you, sliding on the stone floor.

“I was coming to let him out. He can thank his chieftain. I’m just…I’m going to go,” Lothar said, rushing out of the room.

You laid on the floor for a moment. Too exhausted to move, too embarrassed as well. You could feel the orc’s cum leaking out of you onto the stone. You would’ve fallen asleep right there if it wasn’t for the voice of the orc pulling you back to reality.

“Are you going to lay there all day or are you going to let me out, my sweet mate?”

[1d1195]

Buttercup

~7.8k words

From me: I love a knight in shining armor moment. Grumpy sunshine, black cat and golden retriever kind of vibe. There are definitely some details missing on purpose here. Best of luck. Hope you like it 💕 Sorry for the delay in posting. What a week.

Warnings: dick ex-bf - cheating, emotional trauma, threatening. Angry Harry, neighbor Harry, some mentions of sex, a good bit of angst, and some fluff.

Summary: Harry's new neighbor is fun to prank. She just wants to tend to her garden and enjoy her chocolate in peace.

But it's... comforting to know Harry is right next door.

The boys that lived next door weren’t too loud, weren’t super messy, and they were easy on the eyes.

But that was the furthest she could compliment them.

Well, Louis was really lovely overall. He had a girlfriend that came by frequently (almost daily) and appeared to keep him in check. But there was no one to keep Harry in check. He walked around his yard in his boxers, got the mail in them even, and both greeted his sexual partner(s) then sent her on her way off his property the following morning in nothing but boxers as well.

All with a smug smile in her direction while he wore nothing but underwear and the ink etched on his unbelievably smooth skin.

Stupid hot people.

Regardless of what he was doing, he was always sure to irritate her if she was outside. “Hi Buttercup,” he cooed like they were old friends while she worked in her garden. It was clearly her favorite part of the house. It desperately needed a new coat of paint, and she didn’t care in the slightest. The flowers were more important, and she did a good job. Clearing the flowerbeds happened before all her boxes were officially inside her house.

She thought about the day she arrived.

When she moved in, she took a deep breath, pulled her hair into a ponytail and tugged it through the back of a baseball cap. One by one, she pulled a box out of her car and brought it inside. A storage pod was dropped in the driveway as well and then she began the same process after taking a short break while she looked at what she needed to do first. She leaned against her car and felt anxiety and a serious case of being overwhelmed start to fill her chest. She took deep breaths hoping the sugar she ingested would help ease her worried mind.

“Hey, neighbor!” She turned to the voice where a guy with brown hair and blue eyes smiled brightly at her. “I’m Louis, welcome to our neighborhood. It’s nice to meet you. Need help?”

She shook her head quickly. Almost defensive as she aimed to protect herself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Louis glanced at her storage pod and tilted his head at her curiously. It was a lot to unpack on her own.

Metaphorically and literally.

“You’re sure?” He asked. “My roommate saw you from the window. Thought you were... well, not struggling... But it’s a lot to move for anyone. He’s changing, he’ll be right out to help too,” he explained and rubbed the back of his head. “My girlfriend was on the phone and overheard Harry, and she insisted as well.”

She thought that he was nice. A friendly neighbor if there ever was one. But the wall of anxiety she put up and the nerve she was feigning to keep up was battling something fierce. “Right,” she cleared her throat. She would need an ally. There was no one in this new town for her and Louis seemed nice.

Levi seemed nice too... she thought.

Shaking her head she tried to rid herself of the negative outlook. Louis wasn’t Levi. “That... that’s really nice. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

Louis’ best friend and roommate Harry soon joined them. Introduced himself and she sincerely thought they were just two nice guys who would be decent neighbors.

The second they dropped the first load of her stuff safely inside Harry began his pranks. “Is this box labeled underwear up for grabs?”

There was no box labeled underwear. She knew that. But it still made her cheeks burn with embarrassment even though Louis rolled his eyes as if was used to it. Which she supposed he was. “Christ, Harry,” Louis sighed and pinched between his eyes. “I’m sorry, love. We don’t let him out of the house much.”

She looked at him with an eye roll. He was cute. She would give him that.

Well, hot.

Enticing green eyes, sinewy muscles, and a smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He knew he was hot. There was no way he didn’t. But she wasn’t going to let him get to her.

“Where are y’moving from?” Harry asked.

“Uh...” she shook her head trying to remember what lie she was supposed to say. But then went with most of the truth. “Just upstate, a few hours away. I got a new job and whatnot.”

“New modeling job?”

“Boo...” Louis droned, grumbling as he moved boxes labeled kitchen into the correct room. “If you’re going to embarrass yourself, you could use better material.”

“This is m’best material, Lou,” he scowled at his friend. Her cheeks were still burning at his shameless flirting.

“I know he’s obnoxious, but he’s harmless,” Louis rolled his eyes.

“Excuse you, Louis. M’not obnoxious.”

“The shit you say,” he shook his head.

“I jus’ think you’re gorgeous,” his eyelashes did all the flirting for him when his words stopped.

But whether Harry was flirting or not, she didn’t want to flirt with her neighbor. Didn’t want to have a boyfriend. Certainly not one with all the charisma he had around her.

Even if he was flirty and charming.

And hot.

There was no denying how hot Harry was.

So she would have to be careful.

*

“Looking good, Buttercup.”

She glared at the tulip bulbs she was planting in front of her door for the spring. She adjusted the planters of mums placed on the porch steps. A variety of gold, orange, brown and red. Perfect for fall and the idyllic picture for a magazine cover. There were pumpkins on the side of the bottom step greeting anyone at her home with the pretty festive colors. A cute scarecrow was staked among fake corn stalks and hay beside the pumpkins.

It was unseasonably warm for November but for the last two months, and even though Harry drove her crazy, she wanted to be outside enjoying the sunshine and fresh air while she could. She had listened to Harry’s flirting with her since the moment she moved in. He was blatant about it. But in the same timeframe, she watched him with women coming and going. Of course, it didn’t bother her one bit who he spent his time with; that was his choice, and he had no obligation to her or the women he took home as long as he wasn’t a complete douchebag to them.

But Harry always seemed to be there. He was there when she got her mail. There when she got home from work. There when she was going to work. It didn’t matter. Didn’t he have to work? “Are businesses too intelligent to hire you?”

“No?” He chuckled phrasing it as a question.

“Just assumed, since you’re never at work.”

He snorted. “Funny.” She continued tending to her flowers. “I work from home.”

Perfect. So he would continue to always be there. Some people had all the luck.

He wasn’t in his boxers for a change. An interesting change of pace. He was in a pair of plain jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, yet he was the one that looked like a model for Nike.

Men had it so easy being attractive. A pair of workout pants and a T-shirt that outlined his pectorals way too tightly was all it took to get her flustered.

He sat beside her and watched her work. “Y’should do our garden, next Buttercup. Looks so nice the way y’put everything together.”

She paused and stared at him. His eyes roamed her little planters and across the weedless yard. He smiled at her as his gaze returned to hers. “You’re making fun of me,” she scowled.

“Kitten,” he pressed a hand over his heart, looking affronted. “I would never make fun of you.”

She looked back at the dirt that was under her nails. She focused on the feeling of it rather than the feeling of dread she felt around Harry. He was so confident in himself and in everything he did. It was annoying. His stupid green eyes and his dumb smile. She couldn’t fall for it again. No matter how sincere he sounded.

“Y’look really pretty in y’garden,” his voice was gentle. Like he was worried she was going to throw something at him. She had considered it. Her trowel seemed like it could do some damage. But she was trying not to be completely ridiculous just because Harry was a pain.

And sickening.

And irritating.

And cute.

Fortunately, she had a list of things to remind herself of that he was a nuisance. Not to mention there were his pranks that made her crazy.

He sprayed her with the hose when she wasn’t looking. Sent mail to her house for porn addiction making the mailman look at her with a smirk before she screamed at Harry (which didn’t help the look the mailman was giving her). At the beginning of October, he put a Halloween mask outside her window to scare her when she woke up so terrifyingly that Louis and Eleanor rushed over in their pajamas. While nothing was irreparable or worth putting her into therapy, the jokes made her mad because Harry always made her mad. He was too good looking and too there all the time.

Instead, she continued weeding and planting. Making the previously bare flower beds green and brown with freshly overturned dirt. It was calming. Being in the garden, the yard. Dirt on her hands and the sun on her back.

“Cat got your tongue, Buttercup?” He joked.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“The more y’ignore me, kitten, jus’ makes me want y’more.”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

“Ugh, will you marry me?”

“You’re so ridiculous, Harry.”

“God, y’drive me wild.”

She continued digging in the dirt. “If you’re going to sit there and be annoying, can you at least be useful and hand me the watering can?”

Harry silently grabbed the can and poured the water into the hole, watching her carefully. “I used t’garden with m’Mum.”

“You didn’t just spawn from the ground climbing out of hell?”

Harry chuckled quietly. “No, m’mum’s a saint,” he said with a smile. The fondness in his voice and reverence for her made her heart skip a beat. He was so annoying but that was undoubtedly beyond sweet. Even if it was Harry saying it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your mother.”

“Y’didn’t. I know what y’meant,” he chuckled. “Mum would like you,” he told her. Which absolutely terrified her because mothers often did. It made things more complicated. Like it had in the past.

“She would like me? I’m an absolute bitch to you, Harry.”

“Hey,” he frowned. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his voice continued making her throat catch on any rebuttal she wanted to say in return. The pucker of skin between his eyebrows made her want to reach out and smooth his skin. His frown made her sad too. Before she could push the feeling away, he spoke again. “You’re funny. Stubborn. Adorable. Mum would like that y’keep me grounded,” he complimented.

“Keeping you grounded is the nice way of saying bitchy.”

He sighed, irritation practically rolling off him in waves. That was new. “Seriously, kitten. Knock it off,” he shook his head disappointedly.

She blinked, surprised by the genuine tone. “You’re serious?”

“Jus’ because y’say it ‘bout yourself doesn’t make it better.”

For a whole minute she seriously thought about how easy it would be to fall for Harry. He was handsome, intelligent, kind, and funny. Even if he was obnoxious. Louis and Eleanor kept him around for a reason, right? For God’s sake he wouldn’t let her call herself a bitch. Who did that?! “Um... sorry?”

“Apology not accepted. You’ll have t’go on a date with me. S’the only way t’make it up t’me.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bulbs she was planting. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Alright fine; I’ll jus’ have t’think of something else,” he sighed, pausing, like he was really thinking about how she could make it up to him.

Then he smeared a clod of cold, wet dirt across her cheek.

She spluttered trying to avoid dirt in her mouth and reached out to smack him. However, he was nearly giggling, practically running back to his house before she could register what really happened and retaliate. “See y’later, Buttercup!” He called.

*

One of Harry’s ongoing pranks involved slipping his phone number into her contacts early on when he met her. It happened shortly after she moved in, and it allowed him to send her memes and inappropriate messages (not the kind of unsolicited messages that only complete dicks sent to women who did not want them) but the ones that he found on the internet. Inappropriate jokes. Innuendos.

But he also texted her when he was heading to the grocery store to see if she needed anything. But in the time that they exchanged messages, she never started the conversations. It was always a Leave me alone Harry. No thank you. Can you stop staring out the window like a creep? If she needed something she asked Louis, which honestly upset him to a degree, but he understood. Harry came on strong when he met her. Not that he would change that, but it wasn’t unreasonable of her to feel standoffish to him.

God, was she beautiful. Harry loved seeing her in the yard. Made it a point to drop everything he was doing and go get a closer look. He was drawn to her. Moth to a flame. The whole bit. She was so funny, even when she was grumpy. He wasn’t joking when he told her that her ignoring him made him want her more.

She was a hard worker and left early in the morning and returned well into dinner time. While the weather was nice, she would sit on her porch and read or work tirelessly on her perfect garden. She was lovely. Harry could see it from afar and he was bummed she didn’t catch on to his shameless flirting the way he had hoped when he first saw her.

One of these days I’d like you to text me instead of Louis when you need something. Louis already has a girlfriend.

From the looks of it you have PLENTY of options for a girlfriend.

Jealous?

Of getting a disease? No. I’m good.

Your green thumb is spreading, Buttercup. It’s not your color.

You can ignore me all you want. Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be a thing. I just want you to know I’m happy to help you if you need it. Not just Louis.

Also, I’m clean in case you ever want to explore that side of things too 😉

Surprisingly, she ignored that message too.

*

Harry felt like he was going through withdrawals from her. He hadn’t even seen her in the yard. Between the rain and their work schedules, it was like he couldn’t get a glimpse of her pretty being tending to the weeds, reading her book, or anything. His joke asking her what she plays with at night that also vibrates went unanswered.

Maybe he should have stopped sending her inappropriate jokes, but the fact she hadn’t blocked him gave him the shred of hope he desperately wanted. Maybe if she had blocked him it would get through his head that she was out of his league, and she wasn’t interested.

I’m heading home to shower, change, and then I’ll come grab you. It was Niall though, and not her reply to his joke.

Harry put cologne on and settled in the living room quietly scrolling through his social media looking at the time stamp from his message, almost a whole day ago. Frowning, he returned to scrolling and waiting for Niall. Not thinking much of anything of merit as he did.

But then that little notification slid from the top of his phone making his heart bounce with excitement.

Harry, are you home?

Is it finally happening?! 😍

There was no response and Harry thought he ruined their moment. Even if he believed her when she said they would never sleep together, he was glad she was talking to him. He was worried his latest prank had gone too far.

Harry’s car was in the garage, and he had almost every light off since he was leaving soon, so it was a fair question since she couldn’t see the back of his house where he was hiding in his room.

I was kidding, Buttercup. I’m home. You could have just come over to ask though.

There was still no response, but he kept his phone in hand waiting and holding his breath. Hoping something would come through from her again.

Pick some flowers from my yard.

Come knock on the door like we’re supposed to be going on a date.

Please.

And hurry.

Please.

What?

...?

Kitten...what’s wrong?

He tried calling her immediately, but it went right to voicemail, like she had turned her phone off after sending her last message.

What the hell. Why aren’t you answering your phone?

This isn’t funny, Buttercup...

You’re making me nervous.

If this was a retaliation prank it went way too far. Way further than putting the mini popping firecrackers under her tires before she left for work. The very one that got her so mad, he thought she was going to call the cops finally. The one that made her ignore him for days on end despite the messages he sent.

But this wasn’t funny. Not even a little. Her safety and security weren’t things Harry liked to joke about because despite everything, he was possessive about her. And frankly, he adored her. Even if she wasn’t his to obsess over nor adore.

But he wasn’t going to ignore her any longer than he had to. He nearly sprinted out the door, swiping randomly at her pretty flowers and feeling horrible that he was pulling her precious plants after all the hard work she put into them. It seemed silly to spend time doing this, but he didn’t want to fuck up what she asked him to do. Not when her messages seemed so worrisome. Not when she didn’t answer. With a fresh bouquet in hand, he hurried to the front door. Fortunately, he was dressed for a night out. Niall would be on his way to pick him up; so, he was, in theory, date ready. But the thought of being with Niall and not home when she needed him terrified him further. Thank God he was home.

Harry had no idea what was on the other side of her door, but it was embarrassingly late in the moment that he realized there was a car in the driveway he hadn’t seen before. At once he realized she never had company. Which only made him even more anxious.

Swallowing, he knocked firmly.

The door flew open within ten seconds of his knock. The relief in her eyes made Harry feel sick. What was she so nervous about? What could make her that nervous, that seeing him made her at ease? She was constantly irritated by his presence. The moment only made him feel worse. “Harry, right on time,” she smiled sweetly. She was a good actress. If she hadn’t texted Harry so urgently, he wouldn’t be looking for signs of trouble, wouldn’t see the relief in her eyes, and he would have no idea that something was wrong.

“Hi kitten, don’t y’look beautiful,” he cooed leaning down to press a kiss to her cheekbone as if he had done it a thousand times before. Gratefully, he had imagined it about a thousand times, so it probably looked as natural as it felt. Plus, she was beautiful. Always. The acting came naturally to him as well. His arm wrapped around her waist in the same movement instinctively. His eyes fell to the man standing a few feet back watching her like a hawk. His gaze was territorial and possessive; Harry didn’t care for that at all. Even if she wasn’t Harry’s, she definitely wasn’t his either.

But Harry was possessive, and he was there because she asked him to be there. Something he got the feeling the other man did not have permission for. He knew he shouldn’t have felt possessive of her, but he would pretend all the same if it meant the worry in her eyes would go away.

He handed her the bouquet he plucked only moments before and threaded their fingers together; another movement that felt like he had done before and not for the very first time that second. “Let’s get a vase,” he suggested and kept his eyes on him. It wasn’t lost on him how easily her fingers fit between his, the way their palms touched, or how her grip tightened ever so slightly when she settled her grip in his. “Hey,” he nodded his head in greeting.

The guy ignored Harry. His eyes glaring at the pretty girl beside him. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve been dating this guy since the moment you moved in?”

Her cheeks burned red, and Harry kissed the top of her head tucking her toward his chest protectively. Harry didn’t care for it at all. If the anxiety in her texts, expressions, and body language wasn’t enough evidence, then the way she leaned further into his chest despite everything and how annoyed she was by him, certainly was. “M’Harry,” his voice was firm. Pointed. “And you are?”

He grunted, shook his head. “The fuck, babe?” He snapped. She didn’t respond, simply glanced up to meet Harry’s gaze. She blinked unsurely at Harry, unable to find her next move. Harry nudged her gently toward the kitchen.

“Do y’have a name or what?” Harry grumbled over his shoulder as he made a show of caressing her while she found a vase. Her hands were shaking slightly as she placed the vase in the sink. Fortunately, Harry saw it immediately and tugged the glass from her grip, pulling her hand back in his. Even if it was impractical and stupid looking while he placed the vase with one hand in her sink to finish what she was doing.

“Levi,” he snapped. “We apparently used to date.”

Harry felt her body deflate. He wondered why. Was it the prospect of dating this asshole? Was it the phrase used to? What happened before he got here?

“Well, Levi, glad we’re on the same page and you’re using the past tense. M’here t’take my girlfriend on a date,” he pressed his body around hers, bracketing her body against the sink. She kept her eyes down, away from Levi’s gaze. Her body felt so warm against his it made him wish this wasn’t for show. Instead, he bent down to kiss the crook of her neck and shoulder hoping she wouldn’t hate him later over it.

He was really into pretending. She squeezed his hands that were wrapped around hers against the edge of counter. Was that a thanks? Was that a sigh he imagined when he kissed her skin? God, she smelled good.

“M’not sure exactly what’s going on here, but m’getting a good sense that she doesn’t want y’here. So maybe s’a good time t’go before I have t’escort y’out of the house.”

He snorted and shook his head. He glared at Harry as he spoke, but her eyes were still cast down toward the sink. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, babe. You can try and fool me all you want. But I’m not stupid. I’ll come back when your boyfriend isn’t around,” he left the kitchen and slammed her front door shut as he exited. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Begrudgingly, he left her by the sink and went to the front door, peering out the small window right next to the frame. He watched while Levi pulled out of her driveway and down the road. Harry stood and watched, waiting for the sound of his car to completely disappear before he felt he wasn’t coming back any time soon. Harry locked her deadbolt.

“Who was that—” He started as he turned back for the kitchen, but his heart practically broke at the sight of his stubborn, fearless, and utterly pretty neighbor teary eyed and shaken to the core. She left the kitchen near silently it seemed but stopped in the hall right before the entryway of the front door. He didn’t even hear her approach. “Hey,” he cooed coming closer. “Buttercup,” he frowned when she didn’t respond to her nickname. “Hey,” it was like he was approaching a wounded, wild animal. He didn’t want to scare her, but God did he want to protect her. God, did he want to hold her again. “Love, he’s gone. I—” He wanted to reach out for her and pull her into his embrace again, but something about her looked off. The anxiety written all over her face made him nervous and sad.

He zoned in on her hands; they were shaking by her sides worse than the way she held the vase. Her eyes were so fucking sad looking Harry wanted to scream. “Kitten,” he tried again. “Can I...?” He reached for her again. “M’not going to...” all his sentences were half finished as he tried to figure out why the fuck Levi scared her so badly. All he wanted was to comfort her. She was too sweet and pretty to look so terrified. When she never looked scared of anything. “Buttercup,” he murmured again.

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “I’m fine,” but her voice was barely audible over the sound of it getting caught around the emotion in her throat.

“Hey, s’okay t’not be okay. M’here,” he promised holding his hands out to her. “Can I touch you?” He asked. She shook her head quickly. It hurt like hell for her to say no. Harry thought he was seriously going to cry. “Okay, okay,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets because he didn’t trust himself not to try and comfort her and the last thing that he ever wanted to do was break her trust and consent. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart,” he pouted and watched as she was starting to shake like she was in the middle of a blizzard without a coat. “Come sit,” he begged. “Please.”

She obeyed and Harry went to her kitchen and found a glass in the cabinet as if this was his own house. He got water from the dispenser on her fridge, and he brought it to her. Her hands were still shaking violently, and her tears were flowing but not a sound other than a quiet sniffle left her. “Here, Buttercup,” he mumbled.

She sniveled and wiped her eyes as she took the cup from him. He avoided brushing her fingers with his and he paced in front of the coffee table. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he caught sight of the time. “Fuck,” he muttered. Pressing the phone to his ear he glanced out the window. “Sorry Niall. Can’t come out,” he ran a hand on the back of his head. She perked up at his words.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“No... I don’t know.... I just need t’be here for her,” he mumbled.

“Harry, you don’t—”

He silenced her with a look while her words died in her throat with another little whimper. Being vulnerable was hard for her. Obviously. Harry wondered if she knew how difficult it was for him to watch her look so upset and scared and not comfort her. If he knew letting go of her in the kitchen meant he wouldn’t get to touch her again, he wouldn’t have let go to start.

He hung up without hearing Niall’s response and he put his phone in his back pocket.

“If you have plans—”

“I don’t,” he interrupted shaking his head quickly. “Jus’ a date with a pretty girl,” he sat across from her on the coffee table making sure that not even his knee bumped against her. His eyes were following her every breath. Every tiny movement and flinch. The nervousness he felt was painful. Waiting for something to make sense. The water in her glass rippled and practically splashed over the side from how hard she was shaking. Harry wanted nothing more than to take it from her grip. But instead, he patiently waited until she sipped it.

“I’m okay,” her voice was nothing more than air. Even if it wasn’t, Harry wouldn’t believe her.

“Baby,” he frowned. “No one sends a message like that if they’re not worried about their safety. I’m worried ‘bout your safety. So don’t pretend t’be okay if you’re not. I’ll stay all night, sitting right here, and stare at you.”

She snorted. “That sounds like watching paint dry.”

He shrugged. “You’re far more interesting and prettier than paint drying.”

She swiped at her eyes again looking at her lap. “He cheated on me.”

“What a fucking moron,” he mumbled and tilted his head at the ceiling. Harry would never understand how the luckiest men in the world treated lovely, beautiful girls like her as if they were nothing. “He wants y’back?”

She shrugged, shook her head, and nodded. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want him back?”

She whimpered and shook her head. Squeezing her eyes shut so tight, he worried she was going to split open her lids. “God, no,” she whispered.

Harry sighed, rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Can y’talk t’me, kitten? M’not leaving unless y’tell me to. Do y’want me t’leave?” It would kill him. Sincerely, truly kill him. But if she didn’t want him there, he would go.

“I can’t,” she was sobbing. It was killing him. It hurt so much not to hold her and comfort her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll... I’ll jus’... go back t’my house... Yeah? If y’need something, jus’...” he rubbed a hand over his face feeling like he was walking on a bed of glass saying the words. “Call, text, throw rocks at m’window,” he stood, mindful to not bump her knee. He smiled weakly at his own joke. It wasn’t returned. He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t know how to help the sweet, lovely girl. The smile fell from his lips when she didn’t respond. “Jus’... lock the door behind me, Buttercup, yeah?”

It felt like he was walking toward his death, but he left her living room and waited until he heard her deadbolt lock before he descended her porch steps.

*

She dropped the glass of water Harry gave her in the kitchen after she let Harry leave. It shattered into a million microscopic pieces and the flowers from her garden looked so unbelievably pretty she wished Harry really was taking her on a date.

She covered her mouth around another broken sob. Her eyes felt red and raw, and the pressure of her sinuses and the front of her forehead ached beyond words. She was safe. She was okay. But her chest hurt.

Levi was gone. Harry came to her rescue. After she was mean and grumpy toward him. Trying to protect her heart after it hurt six ways to Sunday because of the man that let himself into her home without permission. Harry didn’t even try to touch her without permission. She could tell he wanted to. Hell, she wanted him to... but everything hurt, and she was just so scared.

Maybe it was too late. But she needed him. Really needed Harry to hold her and comfort her. Her mind ran rampant with thoughts of how lovely it was to be held by him. The kiss on her skin. He was warm and solid. Safe. That’s what she wanted. To feel safe. Her heart ached with want.

Immediately after the thought of his warm solid body around hers, she raced out of the kitchen and unlocked her door. She was ready to fly down the steps of her porch, cross her yard and his hoping he would have the door open before she even arrived.

But Harry was already there; at the bottom of the third and final step of her porch.

He never even left.

Harry stood and turned as soon as he heard the deadbolt open, standing only seconds before she was ready to blow right past him. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered to himself.

Without any more pause, she was in his embrace. Her arms around his neck and she sobbed openly into his shoulder. His hands felt so big and safe on her body, just as she predicted.

He hummed something into her hair. Something like “M’here,” in his gravelly, pretty voice. “I have you,” he soothed. “Oh kitten, m’so sorry,” his voice sounded like he wanted to cry as much as she was. Poor Harry. He didn’t deserve to feel so sad. Not because of her and her messed up life. “C’mon, Buttercup,” he scooped behind her knees and cradled her as he carried her back inside to her sofa, locking the door behind them as he entered.

“Don’t leave me, please,” she begged, sniffling into his shirt.

“Never, baby. Never, ever, ever,” he promised rubbing her back. “Not unless y’ask.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “But I will ask,” she sniffed. “Because I’m too much. I’m sad, scared, broken, and damaged.”

“Y’not any of those things, kitten. Certainly not damaged, Buttercup.”

“But I am,” she whimpered. “You have no idea. He messed me up so bad... and I... I don’t,” she choked. “I pushed you away already.”

It wasn’t much, but the little bit she opened up her heart to him meant the world to him. It was almost as good as holding her. But nothing could replace that feeling now that he had it. He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “I wasn’t far,” he shrugged.

He didn’t even leave her porch. Was he going to stay out there all night? Her heart felt achy, and her eyes were already raw with tears but if they weren’t she would have cried at the thought of her obnoxious neighbor sleeping on the bottom step of her porch in the cold all because she was broken.

“You just wanted to help, and touch and hold me, and I wouldn’t let you—”

“Kitten,” he said sternly. He cupped below her jaw and stared right into her pupils like he was speaking directly to her soul. “Let’s get one thing very clear. I will never touch you without permission. No one has any right t’touch you unless y’ask.”

A sob escaped her throat and then she buried her face against his chest. His body was so broad and warm. She imagined if they were without heat or power, she would still be warm. “But I want you to touch me. All the time. Every second I’m around you,” there was no use denying it. Not when she couldn’t lift her face from his shirt.

Harry sighed with relief. “Well good,” he squeezed her affectionately. “Baby,” he stroked his thumb below her eye. “What happened?”

She shivered and Harry pulled the blanket that was on the back of her sofa over them. Her personality was huge and beautiful. She invaded Harry’s every thought. In the same room, she was in every air particle. Outside in her garden she was every little piece of dirt, petal, stem, root and all. She was larger than life.

It killed him she felt so small in his arms.

“I knew he was cheating, and he didn’t want me to leave,” she sniffed. Harry nodded, his teeth ground together. His jaw tensed. Waiting for her to continue. “He said I was overreacting. Our relationship was stale, and we just needed something to spice things up.”

She turned her face to his shirt and Harry cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding and massaging his fingertips against the back of her skull. “He’s an idiot, Buttercup. A stupid, idiotic, horrible excuse for a man,” he grumbled.

She swallowed and didn’t say anything for a few moments. Harry holding her felt like medicine was sinking into her skin and directly into her bloodstream. Harry didn’t force her to speak. He didn’t ask questions. He just held her. She was sure he wanted to know more. Wanted to know all the gritty details that resulted in her moving in the middle of the night and finding this house next to his.

But there was only one thing she could think about.

“Why do you call me Buttercup?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t answer for several seconds. His free hand was on the small of her back, pressing gently to get her frame even closer to his. “Can I kiss right here?” He asked ignoring her question. He brushed his thumb along her temple. She nodded and Harry followed the brush of his thumb with his lips.

“That’s nice,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Jus’ wait ‘til y’get a real kiss,” he promised. “Gonna make y’fall in love with me.”

She didn’t want to tell him she already had because that seemed ridiculous. So ridiculous it made her a little breathless. “That good hmm?” She hummed.

“Never had a complaint.”

“That’s obvious,” she smirked.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t sleep with all of them.”

“Not my business.”

“But it is... M’a gentleman first, kitten. Mum taught me well. I just like t’make m’date feel good,” he explained. “Doesn’t always include... y’know,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know I drove y’crazy walking them out in m’boxers.”

“No, you didn’t,” she lied.

He chuckled. “S’okay t’admit it, kitten; don’t know what I would have done if y’had someone over and flaunted a date in jus’ your underwear.”

“You were trying to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t think y’were that stubborn.”

She wasn’t sure if Harry was avoiding her question or trying to distract her, but she still wanted an answer. “Why?” She asked quietly again.

“Why what?”

“Why do you call me buttercup?”

He sighed, kissed her temple again turning her insides warm and mushy. He didn’t speak for a few seconds like he didn’t really want to tell her. “Y’were eating a peanut buttercup,” he mumbled. “When y’moved in. Y’have wrappers all over the floor of y’car. On Halloween, y’didn’t pass out any of them, but I saw them in the grocery bags I carried in for you one time.”

She bit her lip wondering how she didn’t put it together. It was incredible he noticed that. “They’re my favorite,” her voice no more than air once more.

“And you’re mine,” he assured her, cupping the side of her face. “M’not going t’let him hurt you. I’ll break every bone in his body and mine if I have to.”

She blushed. “You don’t have to—”

“Buttercup, m’not joking,” he said cutting off her protest. “Y’don’t have t’be scared because m’never going t’let him get close t’you ever again,” he promised.

“He just said he was going to... wait until you leave, Harry. You can’t promise that.”

“Guess I won’t leave. Or you’ll have t’come home with me.”

“Harry,” she croaked.

“Kitten, m’not messing around with y’safety,” he reminded her. “I can stay here on the couch and y’can stay in your bed. It doesn’t have t’be a thing. M’staying t’keep y’safe. Don’t read into it if y’don’t want to.”

But she wanted to read into it. God, did she want to. Harry dropped everything the moment she texted him from the bathroom in a panic. He was only next door. Didn’t she want to believe all his pranks were his way of flirting? Didn’t she want to believe he liked her more than just annoying her?

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. He didn’t deserve a mess. He deserved one of the effortlessly beautiful girls that he brought home. The kind that knew how to curl their own hair and where to draw the contour lines when they did their makeup. “You don’t have to stay,” she shook her head.

“Kitten,” he tutted.

“No seriously—”

“You’re deflecting, baby.”

“I’m just—”

“Buttercup,” Harry’s hands felt so warm and perfect against her skin. He brought his other hand to her bare cheek. It looked like he was trying not to cry himself when she met his gaze. “You just told me y’would try t’push me away. I don’t want t’go. But I will. I’ll sleep on your porch if y’want me too,” he offered. “Please,” he whispered quietly. Gently, like he was worried he was going to scare her. “Don’t ask me t’leave you.”

There was a long pause. “Stay,” she murmured into his hand. Because she was too exhausted and scared to tell him to leave. Pressing her lips against his palm, she met his gaze and watched the hope bloom in his eyes with just one little word. “Please... please stay.”

Harry sighed with relief, pulling her tightly toward him and nodding. “Course, Buttercup. Of course.”

*

It had become routine. She arrived home from work, and there was Harry. Sitting on the bottom step of her porch. He waited for her while she gathered her belongings from her car. His smile was so stunning. Like a streetlight on a dark road. Bright, beautiful, and all for her. “Hey Buttercup,” he hummed as she approached. He stood and pulled the bag off her shoulder and carried it for her. It wasn’t even heavy. In the same movement, he pecked her cheek and pressed a hand to her lower back like he had done for the last six weeks since he started seeing her exclusively. Not a single girl with perfectly curled hair had been his driveway. No one with expertly contoured makeup. Harry stopped walking around his yard in his boxers (but now she wished he did it more). As he guided her toward the front door, he continued grinning like an idiot. “Did your day get better after lunch, kitten?”

She nodded, his encouraging text sent at lunchtime was meant to ease the frustration he could sense through her messages. It wasn’t lost on him that as much as he used to enjoy her frustration, he wanted nothing more than to ease it now. “M-hmm,” she smiled at him. “You?”

“Better now that you’re home.”

She rolled her eyes at him because while he stopped pranking her so much, he replaced it with the cheesiest thoughts and lines known to man. But there was no denying how it made her heart flutter. “Did you want to go out to eat?” She asked.

He shrugged, then nodded. “We can if y’want.”

“I don’t really feel like cooking.”

“Me either.”

“Let me change and we’ll go.” Harry was looking at her strangely. The kind of face he made when he pulled pranks on her before he officially swept her off her feet. Maybe she was wrong, and the pranks were coming back.

Maybe there were those mini firecrackers under her toilet seat. “What?”

“Nothing, jus’... think y’look pretty,” his smile was too devilish (and handsome). He knew what he was doing. she shook her head and snorted. But Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. He watched her head to her bedroom. When she stopped in the doorway, his smile bloomed. Her pause to look at her room as if it wasn’t hers made his heart skip a beat. “S’matter, Buttercup?”

“There are like a hundred peanut butter cups on my bed,” she told him. Like he didn’t already know. Orange wrappers lined up in the shape of a heart along her bed spread.

“107, actually,” She turned to look at him. He shrugged. “It would have 110, but I needed a snack.”

She wanted to smile. But her heart was beating fast, her emotions overwhelming her. She bit the inside of her lip. “Why?”

“Y’said y’were having a bad day.”

Her lip felt raw from biting it, behind her eyes prickled with tears. “Oh.”

“S’nice? Yeah?” He wondered and made his way to her, putting his hand on her lower back. He kissed her temple. “Kitten?” She nodded and turned her head toward him, hiding her face against his shoulder and trying to quell the emotion that was threatening to come out of her. “Hey, s’wrong, Buttercup?” He frowned. “Do y’want t’order take away instead?” He rubbed her arm soothingly.

She shook her head, then nodded, followed by a shrug. “I don’t know,” she sniffed.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry,” he hummed. “S’okay,” he reassured her. He didn’t even know why she needed reassurance. “S’jus’ some candy.” She sniffled again and Harry kissed the top of her hair. “M’gonna make sure y’feel good all the time, Buttercup,” he promised.

Her chest felt so overwhelmingly warm and achy in the best way. She nodded against him wishing she could tuck herself further into his strong body where she felt like nothing bad could happen. The change in relationship was a lot to absorb. But it was easy in a lot of ways. Harry was sweeter than she ever imagined he could be. Or maybe she was biased now that she got kisses, and he held her like she was the most precious thing he had ever touched. It killed her in hindsight how standoffish she had been to him. The thought of ignoring him made her feel sick to her stomach.

“I think you really will,” she mumbled into his shirt. He chuckled, kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Y’never have to thank me, kitten,” he shrugged. “Sorry I was so annoying.”

“I suppose it worked,” she sniffed.

He chuckled. “I knew it would.”

“You did not.”

“I did so,” he said petulantly. “Or I hoped it would.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t know why you would want someone so mean.”

“Jus’ makes me want y’more,” he joked and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “M’gonna kiss y’now, kitten,” his way of warning her and asking for permission. It hurt that he felt he had to ask. But Harry was nothing if not thorough and sure in asking for her consent.

“Don’t ever stop,” she sighed dreamily.

He chuckled again and leaned in to follow his promise. “M’pleasure, Buttercup.”

--

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[ilianasbruce]

“A friend of Bruce.”

word count: 4,900

summary: Bruce had never felt territorial about a word.

warnings: full +18 content with a plot. minors do not interact, please.

notes: hello, hello!! ♡ i’m back with another thought about Bruce; uh, he is such a lover and whore boy simultaneously in my head!! and he is a user of ‘good girl’ since i had read it with my own eyes on the 11th issue of Batman: The Brave and the Bold (for educational purposes onlyyy,), so happy reading!!! ♡♡

It was such a bad idea.

One fucking awful idea for dragging you into this. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve thought that you were off-limits when it came to her. Gotham could take his body and mind, but you were untouchable. He would fight his fists until his skin was discolored with a stinging sense under his gloves or he’d be dislocating his shoulder after hitting himself on some building’s wall for chasing Catwoman for a burglary the third time in the week — as he made sure to be the protector that Gotham needed, as he nightly exchanged himself with her. But you? You were his and he should’ve prohibited you for her.

He should’ve let your offerings be a murmur in the air around the cave. He should’ve ignored your loveliest eyes that were yearning to let you help him; deny your sweetest, worried spirit tailing behind him until you got your hands around his waist to press your cheek on his upper back with “Please, baby, let me help.”. He should’ve but damn it, how could he when you were so sweet?

You, unaware of your vision in him, were just his beloved girl, uneasy about his dual life every single night as he left you until he came back right into your arms in one piece. You would think about him for the hours he left you in your shared bed, between the sheets that smelled like him, or in the cave on his seat. You’d talk to him some nights on the comms when he was available to see where he was heading. Some nights when the city was quiet, he’d come back early — safe and relieved with a small smile on his cowl-covered face. You were in love with him heavily, the kind of fondness that made him the only one of yours just for everything. Your Bruce, your devoted Dark Knight, and the love of your life forevermore.

But for Bruce, it was more deeper than yours. Your love was too mighty for both of you, there was no denying that. But Bruce’s love? God, it was more intricate than your sweet devotion. He loved you wholly, with his mind and body, with his heart and hands. Bruce ached for you in a way that was too much for him to comprehend. It was unbearable and much, but he couldn't orbit without you. Since the first time he laid his eyes on you, you were a phenomenon in his mind — always in the back of his mind and always making him spiral into you obsessively. You reminded him of a doll ballerina in the vintage, dark-wooded box, starting to waltz through the melody as soon as he curved the key in the reading room of Manor when he was seven. The kind of stare he’d blink through his dark, thick lashes at you with zeal and longing as he turned the key over and over again, for hours just to see you. You were just as unaware of his gaze as that ballerina, happily existing with your waltz with your sweet soul in his life while he was holding that box dearly to himself, so lovesick and always eager for another curve of the key between his fingers.

You were his sweet love, his sole Sun.

If you’d utter a word to him, no matter what, he was always mindful of you. You were letting him see another view of the world — another window. And that’s why it was simple for him to be lured by you. He couldn't discard your eagerness to assist, your vision, when you were embracing him with your pure intentions of support for Batman about his Gotham. Oh, he could never get enough of you, couldn't he?

“I’ll be good,” you murmured to his shirt as you were holding him tightly, your gorgeous face pressed on his back. “I promise.”

Oh, he should’ve sent you to Manor. Fuck, he should’ve.

So, he wouldn't be sitting right next to you, with his masterly disguised form of yours, two waiting for one of his snitches in the eastside bar of Gotham. Bruce, for the information, would usually turn himself to strangers to learn intel about the cases he worked on and the city. He had been doing it for years, learned from the best in his younger years, Avery Oblonsky. A touch of his deft fingers on there and here resulted in creating a few new identities, one of them named ‘Matches Malone’. A man who would usually wander through the cheaper bars in the name of a mere conversation and beer. But you knew better.

“Stop staring at me.” he muttered as he sipped his beer, his eyes on the door.

“But you look so adorable with that mustache.” you said with a lovely smile of yours, your eyes glinting under the low bar lights. He gave you a brief glance and turned to the door that he had been staring at for twenty minutes.

It was a terrible idea to bring you here. Of course, he had played with your exterior, too. He would rather have broken ribs to see the lowest of Gotham witness his wife wandering with an ‘outlaw’ in the God knows what corner of East Gotham. He altered your gorgeous features with great concentration without exceeding the limit. His skilled fingers traced your soft skin to remake you as he thought, wondering about whoever created you like this must’ve taken their time on you to give all those features he adored so much with his keen eyes. You were still adorable after his work, blinking up at him with your precious smile and pink wig. You had begged him to let you wear that, promising that you’d be quiet. He should’ve stopped that right there but… never mind.

He spent one hour on your pink bob, fixing it to really look like your own hair. You were beaming like the Sun itself after he wiped the tint from his fingers, looking at your new form in the mirror with awe at his mastery. A few kisses and whispers of ‘I love you’s were his payment. He was too tipsy from you to mind the awfulness of the thought in the cave to discard the idea, — that you’d accompany him for the sake of his city. Now, with a straight mind, he realized how foolish to let Gotham indulge in you as much as he did.

You were wandering your eyes in the bar intrigued, quietly sitting as you had promised him. He caught your gaze in a few seconds, you giving him a sweet smile in the dim light and warmth. You were just so…

“Matches, man!”

You two were interrupted, no, you were startled by the eerie, loud outsider who sat opposite you. Your startled eyes found the man in his thirties as your hand found Bruce's under the table. He squeezed your hand in reassurance for your stunned expression.

“Hello, Christoph.”

Christoph, or ‘Ziggy Chris’ as he let you call himself was a funny man. Despite being in the criminal life, he was likable. He made you laugh with amiable intentions and Bruce was not having it. He did not know what riled him up, Chris’ awe of you or your contented conversation with a criminal. Or maybe it was also because Chris was busy with you for Bruce to energize him for intel.

“You know, candy girl, Matches is a really good fella out here.”

And that fucking pet name because of that fucking pink wig. Your pink bob reminded Chris pink, wrapped candies and now, Bruce was forced to witness some lowlife call his wife with endearments. You were listening to Chris as if he were delivering a psalm, ridiculously curious about some damned criminal. God, he should’ve known.

“Yes, he is such a great friend of mine.”

Bruce couldn't help his immediate glance at your side profile for your choice of words. Friend? A mere friend? Truthfully, it was not a big deal. It was a normal thing. But Bruce had been stuck in the conversation between you and Chris for fifty-three minutes without getting a look from Chris. When he had tried to speak, it was Chris who was interrupting him ‘Man, I’ll let you finish but listen to this,” and “I’ve been there, candy girl, I’ve..” or your concentrated eyes on Chris had been irritating him for the last one hour.

And now you were calling him a friend? A fucking friend? The word itself, the mere definition behind it boiled his blood with fume. You could've said my boyfriend, but no, you went with a friend. (It was much better as you had said but he was irrational about you at that moment). He stared at your outline for a few seconds with simple vexation and turned his eyes to Christoph. Chris saw his friend Matches’ eyes on you and he made a joke about how you offended him. Your innocent eyes found your undercover husband’s face but he was already dissecting Chris with a tense jaw. There was no blame on you, it shouldn’t be a problem and why Bruce was gritting with the word of ‘friend’ was a mystery. A mere word, nothing more. Not that it meant something anyways.

Oh, he’d show you a ‘friend’ if he had the chance at the moment but he was supposed to get intel, and the bathroom of the bar was overly unsanitary for your soft skin and jean skirt. The thought was tempting, though, too tempting that his hand found your thigh under the hem of your skirt without casting a glance at you.

“Okay, okay. Let me ask this, man, I’ve heard that Penguin has a new interest.”

Bruce finally took the wheel for granted in his fake New York accent and directed it to any point he wanted for information. You stayed quiet, listening to him with your curious, pretty eyes from then on. He eventually cast a few glances at you, drinking in your flushed cheeks and pink hair in the low bar light. His palm stayed on your soft thigh, not crossing any limit with his deft fingers to the point he wanted to dive. He’d have that time later anyway.

One hour later, Bruce had what he wanted after leaving that damned bar of eastside. The intel was valuable for the case he’d been tracking for two weeks. Oswald Cobblepot and his Iceberg Lounge, something that Batman had to look into closely. But before that, he had a thing to take care of.

The walk to the car was silent but slightly rushed. Your hand was in Bruce’s, as he pulled you with a nonchalant look and silence through the streets. The sky was already dark, and it’d probably be raining in ten minutes before you reach the car. You thought he was rushing because of Batman, but no. You did find out about that later.

“Was that useful?” you asked him as you turned the corner where your car was, hand in hand. He exhaled quietly and muttered a ‘yes’. He was pissed off, you could see that. But you thought he was pissed off at you, not the dreading minutes of listening to Chris about his made-up adventures to impress you and that, sticky and smoky air filled bar.

“Are you angry at me?”

The words hung in the air as you had already reached the car. He gave you nothing other than opening the door for you, making sure you get inside fully before closing the door. When he was inside and starting the engine of his sports car, he did not utter a word, either. You just accepted his silence and pressed your head to the window as he drove. During the car ride to Manor, you two were silent. But Bruce had made a few calls to Lucius about the items for a voice recorder chip and Alfred about the Batsuit. You had accepted the thought of him being irritated with you.

When his car entered the cave and found its usual spot in there, you quietly left the car. Alfred was waiting for both of you with his usual tea tray and your favorite homemade cookies he had made for you. He had an amused look on his face as he saw you two as you approached him.

“I hope your peculiar couple bonding went well, Madam?”

“I guess so, it was fun.” you answered with a smile at Alfred and a bite of his splendid cookies. Of course, it was fun. You weren't the one who was strained. You were happily sitting right next to your beloved Bruce in your pink wig and thigh-length jean skirt, adorably looking at him as he was pumping the words out of Chris’ mouth as if he were a magician in your eyes (well, he was when it came to manipulating the words when he needed to). He did not understand why you were there to provide some ‘help’, but whatever your innocent existence was not a help to him as you promised. So, yes — it was fun.

Bruce was concentrated on the Batcomputer for something you did not heed at the moment. But you realized he was into his case so you decided to leave the cave to give him space. You took your way to the bathroom, trying to get rid of your ‘alteration’.

It was almost fifteen minutes that you were in the shower after taking off your wig and clothes. You almost did not notice him when he entered the bathroom. You just randomly shut off the water for the shampoo and he was there, taking off his own disguise. He saw your surprised eyes in the reflection in the mirror and went on with his action. It took him a quick time to get rid of his disguise and slip into the shower with you. He closed the glass door while keeping his eyes on yours.

“Hi,” you said quietly as he overstepped into your space. He had his hands on either side of your ribs to cage you with the wall and himself, confusing you with his sudden motive. His baby blue eyes were looking into your eyes with slightly creased brows (giving him a frown) and a concentrated gaze. Like he was disappointed with something but he couldn't spell it yet. You felt heavy under his gaze in those seconds, your eyes looking up at him with a doe-like gaze as your head was pressed up to the intricate tiles of your bathroom. He glanced at your lips briefly then turned his unfulfilled gaze to yours.

He neared his face against yours, making you press your forehead against his with closed eyes next. You thought he just missed you as he always did when he joined you in the shower. You thought he’d be kissing you sweetly and slowly like he always did. But to your surprise, as soon as you nuzzled your nose to his, he crashed his lips against yours. That caught you off guard, your hands moved to his waist to balance yourself against him.

You couldn't understand his discomfort at the moment that why he was giving you a rough time suddenly. His hand went to let the water flow over you two since you had turned off before he joined you. The slightly cold water turned into the hot one in the next seconds when he bit your lower lip. Your brows creased slightly at the feeling while he kept kissing you wholly. It was a struggle for you to breathe under the hot water over you and his roughness, thus your hands went to his shoulders to break his kisses. But to your surprise, he led your hands around his neck, pressing his chest against your bare one, not giving you permission in that position.

His one hand that on the side of your ribs moved to your hips, and the other found the back of your thigh to press you to him. When you were breathless for his lips, he let both of you have some air but quickly regained his kisses as soon as he had air. You felt his leg between your thighs, using his hand under your thigh to put you in a position where his thigh was pressed against your cunt. You let a moan to his mouth and he broke the kiss with half-lidded eyes. You did not have time to whisper his name on his lips before he kissed you briefly.

When he started to kiss your jaw, then your neck you finally had an opportunity to breathe as much as you could under the pressure of the water and him with the fog-covered glasses. Your blurry eyes were on him as he half-sucked and half-bit your skin of your neck while your hands were around his neck. You let your eyes close, a breathy moan escaping your kiss-stained lips against the foggy air around you as he pressed his thigh between your soft thighs where you were getting wet.

“B-Bruce,” you muttered when he was sucked off the valley of your breasts, with little bites afterwards to leave stains. He had no intention of listening to your soft sounds about his name, making you arch and press yourself against him more at the moment.

You felt the pressure of his thigh lessen, but in the next seconds, his fingers replaced it. You moaned when he dove his middle digits into you while his teeth sank into your throat. He started to move his fingers in a steady but just a little faster pace, not giving you any chance to relish in the feeling. He fingerfucked every sweet spot of yours with his deft, calloused fingers, making you let out soft sounds of your pleasure to the dense air between you two. He stole your sounds while he started to kiss you again and again, playing with the pressure of his own sweetness and roughness.

But this time, he let out to break his kisses and have a sufficient amount of air for your lungs. He was watching you with his hazy, half-lidded eyes as his face was closer in the distance that your lips were brushing his when he was earning every moan. It felt suffocating for you at some point, his fingers, his pressed body, and the hot water over your skin but it also felt good. You were too full to think about anything at the moment, just Bruce and his two fingers.

He knew how to make you come undone, hitting one spot over and over again to arch yourself against him. You just remember the overfilling sense and the immediate combustion of your euphoria, him letting you fall your head in the curve of his neck. It felt surprisingly so good, making you scratch your nails on his back shoulder while your face was pressed on his neck. You couldn’t have enough time to come to yourself when you felt his fingers’ drawal and his cock to replace them.

He just cursed under his breath — you thought so, as he slid into your sensitive cunt effortlessly. He had stretched you perfectly so that it let him have his time in delight.

“Fuck,” he muttered to your spot below your ear, as your scorching walls wrapped him sweetly. Your first orgasm had created an ideal lube for him, easily, fully fitting into you with great pleasure and you with sweet moans. When he was buried in your pussy, he kissed the same spot below your ear with the words of “Wrap your legs around me, baby. Gonna be a long ride.”

Yet, his hands found the back of your thighs to help you wrap your legs around his waist. You unhid your pretty face from his neck, pressing back to the tiles with tight eyes when he hit the first thrust into you deliciously. He started to fuck you with slow but gentle thrusts.

“Mmm..” you couldn’t help but let your sounds fill the hazy air around you, as he hit every good spot nicely. Your legs were tightly wrapped around him as much as you could, since he was increasing the force of his hips every minute. The time in the shower passed very intensely but briskly for you. It was there, him fucking you too good with his curses and kisses on your lips; but it was blurry for you. It was likely because of the scorching atmosphere — both his body and the water pressure, dizzying you. So, when Bruce fucked you another round for your second orgasm, you came again in his arms. You were breathing in pleasure against his lips as he half-watched you with his own hazy eyes, half-kissing you.

When you came, he came in the next few mintues, too. But not inside of you — he was tensing his jaw at the feeling and calculation, pulling out at the moment when his seed was about to fill you up. You whimpered at the feeling of sudden pulling out and the sensation after it while he came between your thighs. You both were breathless, gasping for air. You thought he’d shut down the water and let you have a good extended amount of time to come to your senses. But, no. He shut down the water to carry you to your bedroom.

Your scorching skin felt the mild air of your somber bedroom in his arms as he carried you to bed. It felt refreshing after the shower atmosphere. When your head hit your pillow, he was already on top of you. You looked up at his features in the dull room from the glint of the bathroom light that came to your bedroom through the door. He was just watching you, too. You let him kiss you again and again, stealing your breath to relieve what was bothering him. You knew him well enough to know he had something on his tongue. Your fingers found his hair as he devoured you, kissing and biting your sweet lips as he wanted. You lazily played with his wet locks, trying to ease his tension. But you met with his grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head on your pillow with one hand.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked him after his breathless kisses. Your first guess was that you weren't promising right next to him, did something to piss him off. But in reality, it was just his frustration. You whispered another ‘baby’ to his lips when he kissed you. But your words were answered with his mocking tone.

“Am I your baby now, huh?” he muttered in a tone that shook your dizziness. Your brows were creased slightly with confusion but he furrowed them by entering you again. You let out soft moans against his face as he nestled back in where he was owned. Your viscous walls welcomed him utterly again, as if it was where he belonged (he did). His free hand went to your hips to align them to his liking, to angle them in a way that you could feel him buried inside you as much as you could.

You were gazing up at him full but dazed, your cheeks warm and lips marked by him. As much as he was pissed off, he was still sweet when it came to you. Your vision in his eyes made him sigh in love and kiss your lips gently, him simultaneously started to hit your spots as he thrust into you cunt. You were sensitive after your two rounds of orgasm, thus he was slow in his pace unless you wanted him faster.

Bruce’s lips found your jaw and then your neck as he fucked you slowly, just as he preferred at the moment. You were mewling or softly moaning against the darkness, your legs shaking on either side of his waist on the mattress. You couldn't wrap them this time, couldn't find the strength. Bruce was busy biting the places he marked in the shower, marking them for a prolonged time. He was having his immaculate time, just where he wanted to be — inside you with your pussy wrapped around him flawlessly that he was letting his groans out a few times already, before the patrol. He was slow to his liking, relishing in the tightness of you.

“Your friend, yeah?” he muttered in your ear while you were dizzy with his thickness between your thighs. “Yeah?” he taunted you more, his tongue licking the skin of your throat next. You merely sighed in pleasure at his sneer, couldn't think fully at the moment.

“I didn’t — fuck, I didn’t know friends fuck each other just as I do.”

“B-Bruce..”

You couldn't handle the slowness of his hips and his taunting. Your creased brow, half-lidded gorgeous eyes were watching him as he was fucking you just as he wanted. He came back to your face with sweat and wetness on his temple, looking down at you with furrowed brows as he rolled his hips into your tightness.

“I’m gonna erase that word from your tongue,” he muttered to your lips, his handsome face hovering over yours. You just closed your eyes helplessly, slightly turning your face to the other side due to reflexes. You felt his kisses on your cheek, your jaw as he started to speed up his pace more. It was already overwhelming for you and the pressure of his tightened grip around your wrists over your head made the pooling around your stomach more prominent. Bruce could feel the ache of your body about orgasm and that’s why he played with his pace to prolong it. You let out disappointed sounds, mentally writing somewhere in your brain to avenge his injustice moves.

He was watching you like a man starved — in love, aching to say ‘that’s what I felt when you said that’, but he knew better. He then shifted his angles again to relish the feeling of your viscous walls around his cock. He gladly fucked every second, every moan out of you slowly, leaving you marked his lips on your cheek and pussy with his thickness. He was just bare inside of you, no condom tonight, just the yearning to come right inside of you, filling you with his seed. He wished he could still fuck you and fill you as much as he wanted, until his seed was overdripping between your folds, marking every inch of yours but he couldn't. You two were too young and inexperienced for a possible baby.

The thought was unbearable at the back of his mind always, when he was ready to dive into you but always forcing himself to pull on a condom. He’d sometimes — on very rare occasions — come inside you without protection, still aware of your monthly cycle rounds.

He knew you were sensitive and after a good amount of thrill, he rocked his hips with the pace you liked. He moved as you wanted him, kissing and whispering sweet nothings to your ear as you were breathless under him. “Is that good, baby?” he muttered to you temptingly.

“Mhm..”

“Use your words like a big girl.”

Oh, that husband of yours. Just knew how to taunt and seduce you simultaneously.

“B-Bruce,” your words dripped with your sweetness and dizziness, making him groan in your ear. He hit your sweet spot, then kissed your lips before muttering to you a “That’s my good girl.”. He set up his pace to your liking, finally letting you finish. God, it felt amazing — your pent-up, overwhelmed muscles ached in the perfect way when you orgasmed for the third and last time in the night. And it was much better than the two.

Before getting you to the finish point, he intertwined your fingers over your head, ushering you with his focused eyes and murmur of “Come on, baby, I got you.”. When you came, he relished in the scene of your sweet glow in euphoria, your sighs of pleasure, and his name on your tongue. You just remember the feeling so satisfying, so full and sweet. He really made sure to give you what you needed.

He came right after you, pushing himself to the point. But it was simple for him since he was thriving with the feeling of your warmth and cunt around his cock, your obscene vision just for his eyes. He had to thrust a few more times and he was there — just suppressed like you.

You two caught your breath after being tangled up with each other. Your faces were so close to each other and warm with color. Bruce pressed countless kisses on your face, specifically on your cheeks and your eyelids along with your lips after catching his breath quicker than you. He nuzzled your face, just satisfied and buried inside you loosely. You were too exhausted, both from the water and him, as your eyelids were heavy from the feeling of his warmth. He brushed his lips with quiet sighs against your skin, murming sweet nothings along with them.

“My good girl,” he nuzzled his nose to your warm cheek, keeping it there. “My,” a soft kiss there, “sweet girl.” as if he was reminding the words to himself and Gotham. You were drowsy with your serene sighs, your attention fading from him, from the feeling of him intertwined with you or his fingers fiddling with yours above your head. He was a lovefool in the warm bed of yours, letting his buried words slip through his lips during his pillow talk.

He noticed your eagerness to sleep — he notices everything about you, kissed you until sleep lured you — just as you did more than a few times when he came from patrol, weary but still energized. You’d kiss him until he was surprisingly sleepy from your loving. Mostly, he was at peace so he could sleep.

You did not feel his last kiss on your temple before he slipped off you gently and carefully without disturbing you. He buried you under the quilts and got his robe to switch off the bathroom light, then took the way of the cave for his alter ego. He hoped you did understand what he had thought about the word of ‘friends’ now, unless you wanted to prove otherwise.

thank you so much for reading!! ♡

[kxsagi]

hiiiiii, can you make reader giving the bllk boys a puppy or a kitten please? 🫶

(rin, bachira, reo, nagi, sae (+) maybe it’s their dream dog or cat :3

“𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐢𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞”

a/n: hiii ofc this is so cute ❤️

i, too, would name my pet yuzu

ft. itoshi rin, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi

itoshi rin

rin does not ask for a kitten. rin does not want a kitten. rin receives a kitten anyway. 

“what the hell is this.” 

says that with a cat in his hoodie, purring on his chest, and his entire aura softened like a warm baguette fresh from the oven. 

it’s a tiny grey one you found abandoned near your apartment, and when you bring it to him, you expect him to say no. instead, he stares at the mewling fluff ball for 0.2 seconds before going: “it’s cold. give me your blanket.” 

cue you watching him spend 20 minutes constructing a blanket fort around it like a cat IKEA architect. 

names it something really blunt like kuro. or neko. 

says “don’t touch her too much. she’s scared.” like you’re the guest. 

she ends up sleeping on his face. you take a picture. he threatens to burn your phone. doesn’t follow through. 

bachira meguru

he almost cries when you show up at his door with a golden retriever puppy in your arms. 

“NO. WAY. is that my son? IS THAT MY FUR SON???” 

immediately drops to the floor and starts barking back. puppy’s barking. he’s barking. you’re filming. it’s a family moment. 

names him “chompy.” refuses to explain. 

goes on walks with him wearing matching jackets. even buys him goggles. 

they’re inseparable. the dog howls when he leaves for practice. bachira howls back through the window. 

teaches him stupid tricks like spinning in circles, headbutting people, and booping noses on command. 

one day you come home to find him and the dog in a pile of treats on the floor. “he deserved a little snack party!” sure. and now your kitchen’s a crime scene. 

mikage reo

reo stares at the calico kitten you brought like you stole her from a museum. 

“she’s... beautiful. what if i’m not good enough for her?” 

spoils her immediately. you are no longer his favorite girl. 

gets her a princess-themed litter box. orders organic, salmon-glazed kibble with prebiotics. hires a cat nutritionist. 

takes her to the vet in a designer carrier. wears sunglasses like he’s in a movie. 

starts saying things like “i think she has an eye for luxury.” no, reo, she’s literally biting a sock. 

names her something extra like lady caviar mikage III. 

every time she lays on his chest he looks like he just got knighted. 

she bit his finger once and he told you it was “because he deserved it.” 

nagi seishiro

stares at the puppy you give him for a solid minute like it’s a math equation. 

“... is it maintenance?” 

you promise to do most of the work. nagi: “okay. sick.” two days later, he’s carrying it in his hoodie like it’s his new spawn. 

puppy’s just as lazy as him. sleeps 22 hours a day. they nap together like matching plush toys. 

names it something weird like tofu. 

“don’t touch tofu, he’s resting.” he says, with tofu upside-down on his lap, tongue out like a slug. 

tries to train him by just looking at him. no commands. just vibes. 

when it works once (she sits), nagi gets so smug. “we understand each other. no need to talk.” 

takes him to convenience stores in a sling like a baby. asks if he can get a dog discount. you leave him outside on purpose. 

itoshi sae

gives you a blank stare when you drop the orange tabby into his arms. 

“... what’s this?” 

“love.” 

raises a brow. but the cat headbutts his chin and immediately starts purring like a chainsaw and you see the pixelation of his soul. 

acts cool and unaffected at first. until you catch him letting her sleep in his suitcase. and using a fake voice to talk to her. 

“what do you want, you little gremlin. yeah? food? yeah? you wanna destroy my couch again?” 

names her yuzu. pretends it’s random. actually named her after your favorite drink. 

goes full tsundere. “she’s not mine, she just follows me around.” she literally sleeps on his laptop keyboard while he works. 

lowkey checks his camera roll every night to make sure she’s in at least five new pictures. 

“if anything happens to her, i’m suing god.” 

isagi yoichi

when you surprise him with a shiba inu puppy, he screams. 

“IS THIS REAL?? ARE YOU REAL?? ARE WE MARRIED???” 

immediately puts him on his Instagram story with “me & my son 🥹” 

names him something super normal like mochi. acts like it’s the most creative name on earth. 

treats the puppy like a teammate. “good job, bud! way to poop outside!!” 

you walk in on him training drills with the dog. like. actual cone drills. baby shiba zooming through like a pro athlete. 

"he's got stamina. he could play for bastard in five years." 

buys a matching hoodie for all three of you. “family fit check!!” 

cries a little when the puppy licks his face for the first time. “he loves me.” 

sometimes falls asleep with him on the couch and mumbles in his sleep: “pass it here, mochi…” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢